October 18th, 2014

  Timber Hollow, United States

  I couldn’t lie to myself–I was scared. Not just nervous, not just on edge. I was crap-your-pants scared. Not that I did that. But beneath the fear was something almost stronger.

  Excitement.

  This was the first time I would use my powers to fight. A real fight, I mean. Throwing a punch that missed against Lady Nyx didn’t count. And unlike her, Frowner wasn’t able to just teleport behind me and end things in a second. He was a brute. A bona fide monster. But honestly? That almost felt like a plus right now.

  I could hit him. I could go all out. He could take my punches, and if I went too far…eh. Frowner wasn’t the type of guy I would mourn. I’d feel bad, probably, but not that bad.

  The thugs below me were another story, however. There were three of them in total, two leaning on either side of the warehouse door and the other standing against the wall on the opposite side. More were inside, but I’d only managed a rough count before they entered. I guessed these guys to be a little under half the size of the original group.

  Which was good for me. Meant I could test out how much a normal person could handle without getting swarmed. Not that these guys were ‘normal.’

  If I weren’t a cape, they’d be pretty scary to deal with. Not in the ‘tatted up bodybuilder’ kind of way–more like ‘lone hobo muttering to himself’ scary. The kind of person you’d cross the street to avoid and hope they didn’t notice you.

  Point was… something. I didn’t know if there even was a point. I just knew I had to stop stalling. It had already been a few minutes since Lady Nyx left, and if she came back to find me still sitting on my hands…

  I moved. Climbed down the fire escape I used to get up to the roof and sidled up to the entrance of the alley. I didn’t risk peering in. My fists were tightly clenched and raring to go. My body didn’t feel the same.

  I took a steadying breath, and before any hesitation could build up, I jumped into the alley, my arm already swinging and wind gathering like a storm as I prepared to release it.

  “Wind punch-!”

  And then the alley disappeared, repced by bck and red squares, as my fist was stopped short by a palm twice the size of it. The wind I’d gathered exploded harmlessly against unwavering skin.

  “Weak.”

  That was all I heard before it felt like I got hit by a truck.

  When I blearily blinked back to consciousness, I was across the street, slumped on the sidewalk, and only upright thanks to the brick wall I had crashed against. My entire body hurt. It felt like my organs were pushing into my throat, and I tasted iron in my mouth. When I wiped my lips under my mask, my fingers came away red.

  Boots crunched against the pavement, the sound dull, and the only thing I could hear that wasn’t nauseating white noise.

  I looked up, my vision dotted with dark splotches, but I could see enough to see the man walking towards me.

  He was dressed in jeans, a bck and red pid shirt, and a silver mask covering his face, a rge, bck, and toothless frown carved into it. Slotted into that frown was a cigar. The lit stogie was thick, but not as thick as the fingers that pulled it away from the mask.

  “Get up. I barely even kicked you.”

  His voice was rough and sharp, sounding like a bark despite his bored tone.

  The slightest movement was herculean, but I did as he said, nearly stumbling back down a few times before I finally got up. If I hadn’t, there was little doubt in my mind that he would have just killed me for the annoyance. They’d get taken down pretty fast, but I’d seen videos of him killing for less.

  “How–” I coughed up blood, making sure to keep my eyes on Frowner the whole time. He didn’t move, just stood there in the street waiting for me to finish. “How’d you know I was there?”

  I wasn’t asking just out of curiosity. That was why I asked that specific question, but it wasn’t why I asked one in the first pce. I needed time. Time to finish formuting my half-baked pn and time to not wince whenever I moved.

  The answer to his question wasn’t meaningless, however. I had a theory about how he found me, and if his answer proved it true, then a hit-and-run strategy wouldn’t work at all.

  “You reek of fear and piss, kid,” he answered, and I knew I was right. He could sense emotions–negative ones, at least. Unless he just lied, but I doubted that.

  My moment of satisfaction was fleeting, however.

  “Now put up your dukes. I ain’t interested in talking.”

  He stomped forward with enough force to vibrate loose pebbles near my feet.

  “Wait, wait, wait!” I shouted, stalling for time with one hand on my knees and the other held out in front of me. “I’m not much of a fight like this, right?”

  Surprisingly, Frowner stopped, humoring me for some reason. Maybe he was the type to actually enjoy a more challenging fight, or maybe he was just bored enough to see me squirm. Either way, what mattered was that I got more time-

  “Fine. You get ten seconds.”

  I got ten seconds. Not a lot, but more than I expected. I had a pn in mind, more of an idea that I hoped would work, really, and I needed him too mad to think straight for it to work.

  Standing on the other side of the street and behind Frowner was his group of thugs. They were just watching for now, some even taking bets, it seemed. I couldn’t rely on Frowner being stupid or prideful enough to keep them out of our fight. I needed to make him chase me–bring him somewhere they couldn’t or wouldn’t follow. If I was lucky enough to be right, an irate Frowner would be enough for them to stay away.

  “Before you, you know, kill me, I have a question,” I said.

  Normally, being an idiot who spends too much time online and learning information about capes was pretty stupid. Meaningless trivia at best.

  “You get one,” Frowner said.

  Except, in this case, the meaningless information I knew might be the key to keeping my life. Or if I screwed it up, it might be the reason I die.

  “I just wanted to know…”

  Discreetly, I balled the hand on my knees into a fist, tensing my arm and feeling power build up despite the ck of movement.

  “What?” Frowner growled. He was mad, or at least annoyed, already. That was good. Made it more likely for this to work.

  I straightened up, my arm feeling like it was about to overload with energy.

  “How’s it feel?” I asked with the most snarky, smug voice I could muster, channeling years of hearing voices just like it. “You know, being the one who got your mom killed?”

  It worked.

  Frowner’s cigarette crumbled to ash in his clenched palm.

  “You caught me at a good time,” Frowner said, his voice chillingly dead. “I was just gonna break your legs.”

  Frowner shook his hand to rid it of the ashes, but they didn’t sprinkle to the concrete. They flowed in shaky, erratic jumps toward the building wind.

  Towards me.

  “But you fucked up.” He continued. “Now, I’m going to choke you with your own spine.”

  I forced out a mocking ugh. “Wouldn’t I just die first?”

  “The st guy did.”

  I paled. He moved. I punched.

  The wind didn’t howl. It wasn’t the high-pitched, almost squealing rush of air I was used to. It was an explosion, like a bomb went off in my left hand. A deep, concussive force that swallowed everything in front of me.

  Barely audible through the deafening bst, I could hear the windows above me shattering from the force. If not for the wind pushing everything forward, I’d have been covered in gss shards.

  It didn’t st long. It felt like forever, but from start to finish, the effects of my punch sted only a second or two.

  When it was over, there was no dust to clear. The car-sweeping winds had already done that, leaving me with a clear of Frowner pushing himself out of a wall while his thugs cowered behind cover.

  There wasn’t a drop of blood on him.

  The same couldn’t be said for me. Hissing, I straightened up from the wall I’d unched myself back into. The pain from Frowner kicking me across the street had already ebbed, but new pain had loudly repced it.

  My left arm was throbbing, and when I held it up, three fingers hung loosely and bent in the wrong direction. I didn’t have defined muscles, but at that moment, I could see them spasming underneath the skin. When I touched it with my other hand, the flesh was tender and raw–like a flick would be enough to break it.

  But more pain was coming, and his steps cracked the concrete from how wrathful he was.

  Hurriedly and heedless of my body’s protests, I pushed off the wall and ran into the nearest alley, hearing Frowner grow closer with every stride.

  “Stop running, you fucking pussy!” He shouted, his voice thick with rage.

  I stopped at the end of the alley just as he appeared at the entrance of it. He slowed, misinterpreting my stillness as a sign that I wanted to fight. I had no such intention. I just needed him mad enough to keep chasing me–but far enough to never catch me. The narrow, one-way path of the alley would help with both of those needs. There was no way I was outrunning him.

  “Good. I hope you can hit harde-”

  So I had to cheat.

  I punched with my right arm–not as hard as before, but enough to make me wince. The wind bst was strong enough to shove a nearby dumpster a few feet, its metal legs scraping against the concrete.

  It made Frowner stand still for a second.

  Then he moved again, his steps faster but not hurried, as if there was no point in rushing.

  I punched again, harder. He stopped for a moment, then moved.

  Again, harder. His boots scraped an inch against the concrete, and then he moved closer.

  Again, and again, and again.

  When I punched again, my bones were starting to feel it, and he’d moved two-thirds the length of the alley.

  “Stalling won’t help, you know?” Frowner said when the wind faded. I was already backing up, looking for somewhere else to hold him at bay.

  “Too full of fear to lose track of…” He leaned forward with his knees bent in a half-crouch.

  “…too slow to escape.”

  Then he leaped.

  The concrete cracked beneath his boots as he crossed the distance between us in a split second, his fist already cocked back for a punch.

  Instinct saved my life. I leaned back, his fist sailing inches past my face with enough force to go through it.

  His next attack didn’t miss.

  Almost too fast to see, his leg snapped out in a frontal kick. My arms barely had enough time to move before his boot crashed past them and into my ribs. The impact crushed the air out of my lungs as I was sent hurtling back, going airborne from the force.

  But unlike the st time I was kicked like a dog, I nded on my feet, turning what should’ve been a fall into a desperate, stumbling retreat.

  If it wasn’t for that stumble, my organs would have been pulverized by his chasing uppercut. I could feel and hear the air split as his meaty fist soared past. Unlike my power, the wind he generated was born from pure, terrifying force.

  As I leaned to the side in a beted attempt to dodge the punch he’d already thrown, he sent another my way–a quick jab I could barely track. It connected with my left shoulder, the force twisting me like a marionette with a yanked string, lining me up for another jab to my right shoulder to spin me the other way.

  I used the momentum to pitter-patter back as fast as I could, each step a hair’s breadth away from being a slip.

  Frowner followed, his steps lumbering but each one covering more than double the distance of my unsteady own. It took him only three steps to my ten to get back in range. My arms felt like lead as I raised them once more.

  This time, he threw a straight punch. Blisteringly fast like the others, but I could actually see it coming as it blitzed toward my chest. I dodged back and swiped my arm to intercept his hand, but for all the force I put into it, I might as well have tried moving a wall. Yet, it was enough to turn the crunching hit into a gncing blow.

  He struck again–a frontal kick. Except this time, instead of getting unched backward, I stumbled back with his boots pushing against my hands. Something snapped in both of them, the feeling sharp and painful, but I barely felt it. I was high on adrenaline, but more importantly, I was high on victory.

  He attacked again, and this time, it didn’t even touch me. Again, and there was air between us. That was how the next five exchanges went: attacks that moments ago would have killed me turned into whiffs, each one dodged with rger and rger margins. By the sixth attack, I was smirking, practically dancing away from a punch that now seemed sluggish.

  But it wasn’t sluggish. Frowner wasn’t tiring–he wasn’t even breathing heavily. He was just as fast as he had been in the beginning, but somehow, I was faster.

  “What do I smell like now, huh? Fear, right?” I asked, panting slightly but filled to the brim with excited fervor.

  “Still like a bitch,” Frowner growled before shing out with another kick. This one was even slower than the others, letting me see in full detail as he snapped it down and turned it into a stomp. It wasn’t aimed at me, but at the ground.

  “And a stupid one, too.”

  I was too busy puzzling over the strange move to notice the shift in his weight–until it was too te. Frowner surged forward, far faster than any of his previous attacks. A split second ter, I felt a hand grip the back of my head, rge enough that the knuckles of his fingers pressed halfway down my neck while the heel of his palm dug into my skull.

  My hair felt like it was going to be pulled out of my scalp as he yanked me downward with such strength that I couldn’t even slow him down. My body was forced to bend with him lest my head be ripped from my neck. That was when he struck–a fist driving into my stomach so hard and so fast that I swore I could feel it touch my spine. The force of the blow was so great that it lifted my entire weight around his fist for a moment before I was unched into the air.

  My eyes bulged as pain and nausea erupted within me, the world seeming to turn in slow motion as I was forced to stare ahead. In front of me, blood and sputum flew forward, expelled without choice from my mouth and lungs in a silent scream. The unched bile moved in an arc toward Frowner, yet somehow, I knew not a drop would even nd before he finished what he was about to do.

  His arm was cocked back like a loaded gun. When we locked eyes, I knew exactly where that punch was aimed. He was going to fulfill his promise–punching through my stomach to rip out my spine. And behind that metal frown, I could have sworn I saw him grin.

  Fear gripped me harder than my soon-to-be-killer’s hands ever could, paralysis taking hold of me as death encroached.

  “There it is.” In between heartbeats, Frowner breathed in ecstasy, savoring the moment.

  That was when I snapped. I was going to die–I felt certain of it. But at the very least, I was going to leave a mark.

  With everything I had left, I punched forward, aiming for Frowner’s stupid face. It had to have been the fastest punch I’ve ever thrown–but by the time it was halfway there, I already knew it wouldn’t be enough. Frowner simply had too much of a head start, and I’d be dead before I could leave him my farewell gift.

  Except–just before his punch nded, his bck-and-red pid shirt seemed to scrunch up. His arm was jerked back, pulled just far enough for him to miss me.

  I had no such problem.

  A split second ter, my fist collided with his silver mask, warping the metal even before the built-up wind exploded outward.

  The bst sent us both flying–Frowner tumbled head over heels and me twisting like an out-of-control ballerina. The world blurred from the speed of my rotations, and I couldn’t even coordinate a punch in an attempt to reverse it. I was moving too fast, unched as if from a gun, and when I stopped, it was going to be from a wall. Frowner may not have been able to kill me, but I was still going to die, fttened like a mushy pancake on the side of an alley.

  Then my world turned into a familiar bck.

  When I was spit out the other side, I was airborne. Sky–rooftop–sky again. Rinse and repeat a dozen times. My speed slowed, then halted for a brief, weightless moment before I began to fall.

  I braced for concrete.

  Instead, I hit something soft–almost like a pillow.

  “Is he dead?” a voice asked from nearby.

  “I believe you already know, my dy,” another voice replied as I was lowered to the ground.

  I forced my eyes open and saw about eight people standing above me, their shapes blurry and swaying. A few blinks ter, I realized there were only two–one of whom I recognized.

  “I believe you already know, my dy,” another voice replied as I was lowered to the ground.

  I forced my eyes open and saw about eight people standing above me, their shapes swaying. A few blinks ter, I realized there were only two — one of whom I recognized.

  “…What took you so long?” I groaned to Lady Nyx.

  “I’ve been here the whole time, idiot,” she replied with a huff.

  “You—” I swallowed down a yell of outrage, inhaling sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked as I unsteadily stood up, my vision still dizzying.

  “You’re compining a lot for someone still breathing,” Lady Nyx replied, like my reaction was the strange one.

  “You can’t be ser-”

  “What I believe my dy means to say,” a different voice cut in—the same one I’d heard when I nded. It was masculine, calm, and heavy with amusement as he emphasized the tter half of his sentence. He also sounded posh. “Is that we’re gd you’re alright.”

  My gaze snapped toward the source of the voice. Now that my vision had steadied, I recognized him.

  “This is—” Lady Nyx started.

  “—Loom. Power gives him the ability to manipute string,” I finished, rubbing my temples. He was also the first male hero who didn’t tower over me. I liked him already. “I’m guessing you’re the one who saved me?”

  Loom nodded. “I am, though it was hardly much. I’m surprised you recognized me. Quite fttered, really.”

  “Don’t be,” Lady Nyx cut in. “He’s a damn cape nerd.”

  “Be that as it may, my dy, it still warms an old man’s heart to be recognized.”

  “Well, my dy, it still warms an old man’s heart to be recognized.”

  They talked with a familiarity that edged on familial—not that I cared at the moment. I was too exhausted to give a crap about their little dynamic.

  “Is Frowner detained?” I asked. I doubted he was dead, and Loom’s power was perfect for capture.

  “Currently writhing in his shirt,” Loom confirmed. “You gave him quite the lump, might I add.”

  “And the thugs?”

  “Limping home.”

  I nodded. “Good. Because I need to see a doctor,” I said, holding up my left hand. “My fingers broke, something in my hands snapped, and I’m pretty sure I fractured my arms.”

  “For what?” Lady Nyx asked, unimpressed.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m literally showing you why.”

  “That you need to go to a mental hospital?” She asked sarcastically.

  “What? No, because my fingers are…” I stopped mid-sentence. I blinked, shook my hand, but the image of perfectly intact fingers didn’t change. “…not broken?”

  “Did you hit your head, young man?” Loom asked, concern in his voice.

  I shook my head. “No, I just…” I trailed off. My fingers had been broken. I remembered the pain of just moving them. But now…nothing.

  “Well,” Loom said, studying me with newfound interest. “In any case, you don’t seem all that hurt.” He gnced at Lady Nyx. “You didn’t tell me he was a brute.”

  “Because he wasn’t,” Lady Nyx said, suspicion in her voice. She stepped forward, grabbing my arm and jabbing it.

  “Ow,” I said instinctively, but it didn’t hurt.

  “Doesn’t have ‘fractured arms’ either,” she muttered.

  The air turned awkward after that, neither of us saying anything. Maybe if I wasn’t so annoyed and exhausted, I’d have argued about it. Pleaded my case. But even if I could muster the energy to convince her, it wouldn’t really matter. I never lied. Not when it came to what I knew about my powers, at least.

  “Well.” Loom cpped his hands together, gathering our attention. “I’ll go ahead and dump Frowner somewhere nice and public. Wouldn’t want to interrupt two lovebirds, now.” He said with an exaggerated wink behind his cloth mask.

  Lady Nyx yelled something uncharitable at him for the insinuation, but his ughter was the only response she got as he leaped from the roof. Maybe at another time, I’d have cared too, but it wasn’t another time.

  When he was gone, I sat down on the parapet, feeling more mentally tired than physically.

  “…So?” Lady Nyx said after a few moments of silence.

  My lips pulled downward behind my mask in anticipation of an interrogation. First, she leaves me to fight on my own, then when she does come back, she doesn’t even help, Loom did, and then she acts like I should be grateful just because I was alive. It was bull crap, and I couldn’t even give her a piece of my mind. The things I had to do…

  “So, what?” I bit out irritably.

  “So, how was your first cape fight?” Lady Nyx crified, showing an uncharacteristic ck of annoyance.

  “So, how was your first cape fight?” Lady Nyx crified, showing an uncharacteristic ck of annoyance at my attitude.

  “Huh?”

  “Your first cape fight. Everyone has one, and it’s obvious you’ve never fought another cape before–I don’t count,” she said with a proud sniff. “So? How was it?”

  “I…I don’t know,” I said warily. “Why are you asking me this?”

  “Because this is your st chance to get out,” she stated. “So tell me, how was it? ‘Cause news fsh, this won’t be your st fight. Especially knowing you’re a brute–you will be expining that development to me ter. And if you don’t like fighting now, you’re going to hate it ter.”

  “I thought you didn’t want me in,” I replied, narrowing my eyes at her as she stood with her arms crossed.

  “And I thought you’d cower instead of fight. So congrats, you got the rare honor of proving me wrong.” She raised one hand, wiggling her fingers in a begrudging, faux celebration. “Now tell me—was it boring? Fun? Liked it? Loved it? Hated i—”

  “I punched a guy so hard his mask caved in,” I interrupted.

  “And it was…?” She asked leadingly.

  “It was great. Awesome. Too awesome.” My leg started to thump as the mere memory of the fight got my blood pumping. “It was, uh, scary. Like, really scary. But I’ve never felt so alive. It felt too good.” I paused. “Honestly, that part is the scariest.”

  “I know what you mean,” Nyx replied. “If you don’t want to fight, I get it. I’ve seen people turn into monsters from it.” She put her hands on her hips. “So, are you in or out? Last chance.”

  “I’m in,” I replied near-instantly, and I found that when I said it, it wasn’t just out of obligation. It really was scary.

  “Then you need to pick a name. I’m not inducting you without one.”

  “Like right now?” I asked.

  “Yeah, right now. If you don’t choose one, I’m calling you Hockey Boy–and good luck shaking it.”

  I shuddered at the thought. A cape’s name was one of the most important things about them—more important than their costume, in my opinion. Unless you were stupidly powerful, a bad name was a cloud over your head. It made you a joke, and when people thought you were a joke, they didn’t fear you. Didn’t hesitate when you showed up.

  I looked down at myself, searching for something—anything—that felt right. My arms, my stomach, my neck, and my chest—they were all covered in drying blood. When I pulled my bangs down in front of my eyes, my hand was the same shade as my hair.

  I had my name. Maybe it was stupid. I didn’t care. It was mine, and unlike the hair that inspired its creation, I chose to have it.

  “Red Gale.”

  It wasn’t heroic. Not in the slightest. It definitely wasn’t a name I’d want my mom to know about. But at that moment, covered in blood all my own and officially minted as a criminal, it felt right.

  “Red Gale, huh?” Lady Nyx extended her arm, hand open. “Welcome to the Old Blood.”

  For the second time in my life, I shook someone’s hand.