The past few nights had been uneventful since my first night out. The list Yusuf had given me hadn't been much help. I had spent the last two nights just waiting in front of stores, hoping something would happen, but nothing did. Now, I was lying on the couch, flipping through channels aimlessly, trying to take my mind off it. I stopped on the news in the middle of the weather report, which suddenly changed to a live feed of a bank surrounded by police.

  "Robbing a bank in broad daylight? They're either really ballsy or stupid."

  I sat up to get a better look. I recognized the building—it was our bank, and Mom had said she was going there before she left. I pulled out my phone and almost called her, before realizing that might just make things worse. Panic started rising in my chest as I realized my mom was most likely in there.

  I got up, debating with myself whether I should even go, and then the camera shook as a shot rang out from the bank. I was running to my room, my legs moving on their own. I threw on my mask, gloves, and boots. I opened my window, jumped out, and sprinted onto the roof, heading toward the bank.

  As I looked down at the street, I saw a line of cop cars trailing behind me, but I outpaced them. My nerves never left me, but I felt something else building up inside of me. excitement.

  ■

  I got there in a couple of minutes, crouching on the edge of the nearest building, trying my best not to be noticed. The ground level was swarming with people, the block sectioned off by first responders. Behind the barricade, news crews and bystanders watched the building.

  "The front door's covered by a table. I could get in from the ceiling, maybe," I thought.

  I looked down, watching for a moment when most of the police were preoccupied, then walked back for a running start. I took a deep breath and let the heat flow through my body, every muscle tensing. With a burst of strength, I pushed off the building, the concrete beneath me cracking as I launched myself toward the bank. My arms and legs extended forward as the other roof rushed toward me. I landed hard, rolling into the middle of the roof. I shot up and hid behind an air unit, scanning the roof for a moment until I found a vent and crouched next to it.

  "I just need to change to smoke and change right back on the other side... easy."

  I'd only have a couple of seconds before my real body would burn. I placed my hand on the vent and breathed out, the heat traveling through my entire body, centering in my skin as I changed. Until all I was, was that heat. My head and chest went first, my vision turning hazy as the world felt like it was on fire. The rest of my body and clothes followed suit, and I slipped my way through the vent. Flying out the other side, my "body" centered it on a large chandelier and changed back, the hair on my arms just starting to singe, but all in all, I was fine.

  I peeked down. The bank's main room was one long hallway, with hostages lined up, sitting on the floor. Looking around, I saw my mom, and her eyes went wide when she spotted me. I covered my mouth over my mask with my finger, signaling her to be quiet, and she nodded with a slight tilt of her head, still staring up at me. I glanced to the other side of the room. Four gunmen, all dressed head to toe in black and holding rifles, probably automatic from the way they looked, were lined up facing the hostages, a set of tables separating them. My heart raced as I prepared to jump down, adrenaline coursing through me. I raised my hand, heat flowing through it, and pointed my palm at the man in the middle. Suddenly, smoke poured from my hands, triggering the alarm. The gunman was swarmed by the smoke, his eyes widening in terror as he yelled. I swiped my hand to the left, and the leftmost gunman was engulfed in the cloud. I heard them coughing in the smoke as I blasted out more, jumping down into the chaos.

  "Don't have time to be gentle."

  I landed next to the middle man with a thud, the tile cracking under me. Before he could raise his weapon, my shin slammed into the side of his knees, and he collapsed immediately. I followed right after, a hammer fist slamming into his face, knocking him out cold.

  I heard a click and immediately shifted back to superhuman, grabbing the man I knocked out by his collar and launching him to the side, feeling bullets whiz by, missing me by inches. I shifted, spinning around and launching the knocked-out gunman into the one who had just shot at me, landing true, hearing the impact and pain gurgle.

  "Two left."

  I turned back to the right side and sprinted out of the smoke just as the rightmost gunman started to enter it. I slammed my palm into his throat at normal strength and then enhanced the blow into his gut. dismantling the man infont of me i look over his shoulder, and saw the last gunman fumbling with his weapon, hands shaking with panic in his eyes. I quickly grabbed the man I was beating on and threw him out of the line of fire, him landing in a heap.

  I can't contain the grin under my mask as I launch myself at max speed to the left.

  I didn't need to be faster than a bullet. I needed to be faster than a panicking gangbanger's aim, and that was doable

  Finally getting close, a bullet grazes my shoulder as I shove his wrist upwards, letting him empty his weapon into the ceiling and then rocketing my fist into his face.

  I stop and scan the room for any more movement as I let the smoke dissipate. I take a deep breath, my breath coming out jet black, and my heart rate begins to slow. Turning to the hostages, I notice some huddled together, watching me in awe at what I had just done. I bend down and unmask the gunman, spotting a small crown tattooed under his eye, just as I thought.

  I look at my wound. The bullet had ripped a hole in my hoodie and cut a gouge into my side. I could feel a constant sting, but it was anything I couldn't heal from. Looking over at the hostages...

  "You're safe now. I'm going to clear the door," I say, trying my best to sound older than I am.

  The hostages slowly get off the floor as I move the tables out of the way. They start pouring out, relieved to be safe. I hang back, looking for a rear exit, but before I can leave, a woman taps me on the shoulder. It's my mom.

  "Um, sir," she says, sounding unsure in a way I've never heard before. She points behind the tellers' desks. "One of the men took an employee back there before you came in."

  Before I can respond, she's leaving out the door, and I'm running toward the desk. Just as I'm about to jump over, a man does, carrying two duffle bags. He's a little shorter than the others, dressed in all black just like the rest of the gunmen. The only difference was a vest over his gear with a bird skull surrounded by red feathers.

  My fists tighten unconsciously, and smoke starts to wisp off my skin as we stare each other down, barely contained fury in my eyes.

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  He drops his bag, and I feel my body drop into a stance instinctively and rush him.

  His arm shifts as white spikes rapidly grow from the limb into a blade and swings it at me with blinding speed. I barely dodge, backstepping as the blade slices through the front of my hoodie.

  I swipe my hand down, filling the room with smoke, and rush forward, my body continuing to heat up. He swings again, in between a cough, but I drop low, letting my momentum carry me forward, narrowly dodging his attack as it nicks my back. My hands hit the floor first, and I spring off, shooting my foot toward his head. He narrowly weaves out of the way on instinct, winding back an overly telegraphed haymaker, but I'm faster. I slam my foot back down, dusting the tile beneath me, but he's unfazed. The punch flies, and I slam my other hand into the bottom of his wrist, guiding it up and away from me as I smash my fist into his ribs. My knuckles scream in pain, but I ignore it. The impact feels wrong. There's no give. Suddenly, his clothes ripple, and I jump back as spikes shoot out of him right afterward.

  "There's a layer of bone under his skin," I think to myself. "And they're way harder than normal. I can't just box with this bastard."

  He lifts his hand, forming the bone into a hammer to slam down on me, but I'm faster, heat flooding into the appendage. I kick in front of his knee, doing enough just to throw off his balance and slam both of my palms into his chest, toppling him. He stumbles, trying to stay up, but I sweep his legs and he crashes. I follow up with my boot slamming into his chest, and I feel give to that. Dropping all my weight into a knee, I slam it into the same spot and grab his collar while he writhes in pain.

  "Your gonna stay down and fucking tell me where my FRIEND—"

  "GET OFF ME!" His voice is surprisingly young, around my age.

  My rant is cut off as needle-thin bones stab into my knee, and I jump away as more stab into my arm. I land in a heap, kneeling on my good knee, as I pull the bones out where he got me. He slowly starts to get up, and I take the moment to think.

  I can't hurt him easily, and he's strong, but all that extra bone inside of him has to be weighing him down. Thankfully, something comes to me quickly.

  Smoke pours out of me. I feel the tank starting to bottom out, but I push past it, slowly getting up in sync with him.

  "Do yourself a favor and just give up. It'll hurt less."

  He stares into my eyes, and I stare back, nothing but defiance in his eyes.

  I swipe my hand at him, and his world is suddenly smoke. I step lightly, walking around him in slow circles, getting smaller or bigger, stalling him out. He tries to stay strong, but eventually, he needs to breathe, and then he coughs.

  I circle around, and grabbing one of his duffel bags…

  "Catch."

  He turns to me by the sound of my voice, and I launch it at him at full speed. On reflex, he catches it, leaving himself open long enough for me to rush in, turn my momentum into force, and slam my heel into his chin perfectly. I feel his head snap, and he falls in silent agony, clutching his head.

  "Your brain's bouncing around like a pinball in there, like I said. Should've stayed down." I bend down. "Where did you get that, jaket"

  I hear and feel a rumble underneath me, and I'm too late to move. A bone slams straight into my chest from out of the floor, carrying me up until my back slams against the ceiling. I fall down off it, slamming back-first onto the tile, barely able to move, my vision blacking out for a moment.

  When I wake up, I feel him holding me up by my collar, only able to squeeze my hand against his wrist.

  "What did you say? Do yourself a favor and just give up. It'll hurt less."

  "Go fuck yourself." In the middle of my sentence, a fist slams into my chest.

  I fly through the pillar and out the side of the building, crashing onto a car outside, passing out on impact. Slowly, I come to as I hear gunfire and see walls of bone growing to cover his escape. Blackness swarms my vision as I pry myself from the car, falling onto my arms. I feel blood pooling in my mouth. My own weight feels like it's crushing me.

  ■

  I wake to flashing lights blinding me as reporters swarm in. Ignoring the pain, I jump up, vaulting over the crowd toward the direction he ran. I land on the other side of the reporters, greeted by jagged spires and flipped-over cop cars littering the front of the bank. But he's gone.

  Frustration wells up inside me as I turn back around, only to see a camera crew following me, and police tailing behind them. I extend my hands, filling the block with smoke, and take off running, making my way back home. I only slow down after getting a couple of blocks away, but my mind is still racing. How did he do that? I got cocky and blew it.

  I loop around the block just to make sure I'm not being followed, then climb up the fire escape and into my room, falling onto the floor from the window. The adrenaline had fully left my body, and the pain in my chest and back just continued to grow. Slowly getting up, I go to look myself over in the mirror. My hoodie is ruined from the fight, with gashes in the front and back. I take it off along with my undershirt, seeing that the back of it has been dyed red by one of his swipes. It doesn't feel very deep; I had only been grazed. I look at my chest, which is covered in a dark bruise that's only going to get worse over the day. I step back, lying on my bed, and pull out my phone that somehow survived, slowly dialing my mom's number. The phone rings once, and she picks up.

  "Hey, Mom, are you okay? I saw the news."

  "Hey, Jacob. I'm fine."

  "They didn't hurt you?"

  "Jacob, I said I'm fine. No need to worry."

  "Okay... Are you gonna be home soon?"

  "I don't know. I'm waiting to get questioned... I wouldn't hold your breath."

  "Oh." The line is quiet for a moment, my disappointment palpable. I try to change the subject. "So, superpowers are a thing now?"

  "And people are already doing this?"

  "Yeah... the world's changing. I'm sorry you got caught up in it."

  "Yeah."

  "Bye, Mom. Love you."

  "Love you too, Jacob."

  I hang up and sigh. I go to lay back on my bed but barely stop myself, not wanting to damage the sheets. I get up, limp into the kitchen, and rummage around in the medicine cabinet until I find some ibuprofen, rubbing alcohol, and bandages and tweezers. Limping into the bathroom, I take what's left of my clothes off, and sit in the tub turning the shower on to wash away my blood as i slowly pulling the broken spikes out of my arm and knee. When I'm done, I drop the tweezers and try and control myself, my arms shaking with pain, turning off the water with shakey hands pouring the rubbing alcohol on my wounds. Then, slowly, I start wrapping the bandages around my back. After a while, I get it on, though it looks like a mess—a vest of bandages wrapped around my chest and arm on a diagonal. When I'm done, I grab a shirt and pants, take my medicine, and lay down in bed, pulling out my phone. I dread this, knowing I had resigned myself to public exposure when I went to the bank, but still...

  I go to a local news site for Royal and find pictures of me and him. I click a link, and it sends me to YouTube. The video is shaky and unprofessional, but it's still watchable. The camera is pointed through one of the windows, recording me and him fighting. I skip ahead to the end, hoping to see how he had disappeared. The person filming dropped their phone when he made the spikes, and the video shows the person's face.

  "Lovelie?"

  It was her. I recognized her features immediately. She hadn't mentioned she worked for the news, but I hadn't asked. Was she an intern or something? I shake it off and look down at the views. My breath hitches as I see the view count: Fourteen million. My chest tightens painfully—14 million people had seen me. Thank god for the mask, but how much would that really help? I refresh the page, hoping it's a mistake, but the number goes up by another hundred thousand. I feel my hands tremble as I scroll down to the comments.

  PixelVoyager: Is anyone else freaked out by how powerful these guys are? Like, we're talking real-life superpowers here.

  EchoVerse: This is terrifying. How are normal people supposed to defend themselves against powers like this?

  NebulaNinja: Great, now we have to worry about super-powered thugs on top of everything else... Just what we needed.

  Kamo: I don't care what anyone says, that smoke guy is cool as hell.

  Shortiethegiraffe: Are there others?

  I see a link to another video and click it. It leads to a video of a boy around my age, breathing out a small stream of flame without any preparation. I scroll down, and he's in the millions of views as well. I keep scrolling, falling down the rabbit hole of others sharing their powers. After the tenth video, the only common thread I notice is their age—they were all around my age. I spend a couple of hours lurking in forums and reading comments, learning about the others. One word kept popping up to describe us: supes.

  Turning off my phone, I lay back and feel my consciousness get dragged into dreamless oblivion.

  ■

  The door opens, and I shoot up, rushing into the main room to greet her, hugging her tight before she's even halfway through the door. I feel her hand on my head, rubbing my short hair as I let go of her.

  "I'm okay, Jacob. Really, I'm okay."

  "Okay," I reply, relieved.

  We sit down, and she tells me about the robbery, about my entrance and her exit, about the police and getting questioned.

  "Yeah, there were a lot of us, so questioning took a while."

  "What did they ask about?"

  "Mostly about that smoke guy who showed up."

  "They're calling them supes."

  "Really?"

  "Why, what's wrong with that?"

  "It's a bad name."

  "I think it's cool," I say with a huff as she pulls something out of her bag.

  "But besides that, the detectives gave me their cards. They said they're going to have to stay in touch. I might even have to take the stand," she adds, handing me the card to look at.

  I take it, and I'm not really surprised by the name on the card—Ava, the same woman from the alley with John. I memorize the number and hand it back to her.

  "And Jacob, have you been smoking?"

  ■

  I sat in my room after a lecture on why smoking was bad, barely getting her to believe I hadn't it and only burned food, sitting on my bed. I had spent the past 15 minutes trying to smell the smoke on myself, to no avail. Finally getting annoyed, I opened my window and stepped outside onto the fire escape. Letting the heat flow out into my hand, I let tiny wisps of smoke waft off my fingertips and smelled them, only to smell nothing.

  It was like my brain or power completely tunes it out. I let the heat in my body shift once again, pooling in my shoulders. Smoke wafted up into my face, enough that it should have blocked my vision, but I only noticed it when I focused my eyes. Letting the heat settle back in my chest, I breathed out a small puff of smoke and went back inside. It's kind of like the smell. My brain just blocks it out. But still, I can't believe I just noticed.

  Laying doen i mulling over my options about what to do about the bone supe. I can't let him roam around doing whatever he wants. I get up, throw on my outfit, find a new hoodie, and head out my window. I stop at a payphone and dial Ava's number.