Armsmaster

  His bike revved as he increased his speed, reports of villain activity crackled in his earpiece.

  He had to hurry up

  Wind bellowed across his face. He only got faster. Hoping to catch the fight before it ended. He couldn't afford to be late.

  An explosion flashed in destruction, he knew from the sound and wave of force from it- he knew the fight was almost over.

  When he got there two things happened.

  Have you ever seen a watermelon expand, just before it was about to burst?

  That was the only way to describe what was happening to Lung's head. Brain matter splashed and viscera covered the environment. A malevolent beam –white in color– shot out from the eyes of the cape that Lung is manhandling.

  Was manhandling. No amount of regeneration was saving you from your head exploding. No, it couldn't even be described as that because the beam seemed to vaporize anything it touched. Atomizing it to a level that simply stopped existing. One moment Lung had a head and the next he didn't.

  He froze.

  Something that beautiful shouldn't have been capable of causing that much destruction.

  Armsmaster narrowed his eyes, years of military and combat experience keeping him on high alert. This particular cape was dangerous. "Unknown parahuman, Identify yourself!"

  The figure hovered in the air, almost ethereal, unmoving, as though time itself had frozen. Flight too? So, at least a legend package. Great.

  The costume—if it could even be described as that—was burnt to a crisp. It barely managed to cover him, while everything around it had been vaporized. The heat of the flames had destroyed everything in its path.

  But– Why was he unharmed? Armsmaster frowned, scrutinizing the figure. The flames had been intense—hot enough to melt concrete, lava being the only comparable thing. The evidence was all around, surrounding them like a tide: the blackened pavement beneath him, the ruined remnants of his costume. But the cape itself?

  No burns. No sign of damage. His mask had been burned away, exposing his face, yet there wasn't a single mark on his skin.

  The man—no, the boy—Armsmaster thought as he took a better look at the figure in front of him, he had distinct Asian features, his skin dark enough to hint at another point of ancestry. African American?

  It was weird in a way, the cape wasn't particularly big or large, at most maybe 5'10. It was a stark reminder that a superhuman didn't need to look dangerous to be dangerous- There were 9 year olds that put people on edge.

  Slowly, deliberately, the parahuman moved, his glowing eyes locking onto Armsmaster. The man instinctively braced himself, not entirely sure what he was capable off– he didn't want to be an easy target.

  "Steel," the boy said, his voice sounded like he was in a dream, like he had found something that he had been searching years– decades for. It was only then he realised that that was probably the cape's hero– Or if this goes south, villain name.

  Armsmaster frowned. "Are you going to fight me?" he asked, keeping his tone level, he didn't want to give any hint of what he was feeling. He wasn't a hundred percent confident, not with what he had just witnessed.

  The boy shifted slightly, his posture uncertain. "No, sir," he said, almost apologetically. "What just happened... was technically an accident."

  Armsmaster stared at him for a moment, his gaze hard. He delivered the words calmly but with finality. It struggled to match the situation; "Lung is dead."

  He wasn't sure why he said it like that. Flat. Detached. Maybe it was because there was no need for further explanation. Lung had been a threat, a killer. Terrorizing neighbourhoods, it was only a matter of time before he stepped too far, thinking himself invincible to consequences. He would have done it himself if he could get away with it. The boy, however…No immediate threat. Just confusion.

  Armsmaster kept his expression neutral. If this kid was responsible for ending Lung's reign of terror, it would take more than a few words to figure out if he was a danger to the city, or if he was just a casualty of his own powers.

  The boy looked taken aback for a moment, then glanced down, his eyes darting across the rubble around them. The weight of what he had just done seemed to hit him. He didn't seem proud or eager about it. He seemed…lost. Maybe he wasn't a villain after all.

  Armsmaster allowed himself a moment of quiet assessment. The boy wasn't like the others—there was something about him that felt… different.

  SPECIAL

  Maybe, just maybe, the kid wasn't as dangerous as he thought.

  Taylor

  Taylor was a simple person on a simple day. It was meant to be easy–her first day out in costume. Maybe punch a few bad guys in the face. Maybe save a cat stuck in a tree. But this?

  She did not sign up for this.

  The only reason she was here in the first place was because Lung was threatening to kill kids. Kids.

  Shockwaves spread as blows exchanged in quick succession. Fast and brutal. The figure that was very surprisingly holding his own against the very powerful dragon man.

  He wore white, his costume aligned by blue streaks and not in a cool type of way. They were slapped on with as much skill as a five year old making a macaroni house. Spray paint that looked like it had too much put on one side and too little put on the other.

  It didn't really matter much, I was just glad I wasn't dead.

  In my peripheral vision, something that would have been less out of place in a nightmare jumped out of an alleyway corner. It was hard to even describe– like an overgrown dog. On its back were 2 girls, one wearing a purple themed costume and the other wearing a cheap rottweiler mask– the only thing that even hinted at being a costume.

  More followed, each one more grotesque than the last. Two boys, each mounted on similarly nightmarish beings.

  The figures slid off starting off with the purple themed girl. A foxish grin plastered on her face. They were this close to being killed and she still had the energy to smile? If nothing else she admired the laxity.

  "You really saved our asses, huh? Thanks, a lot," Her voice was surprisingly soft but there was an annoying edge to it, like she was constantly trying to figure out what made people tick.

  "Umm, Tats? Maybe we shouldn't hang around where two powerhouses are trying very hard to kill each other." Another voice spoke– this one belonging to the 4th guy, he looked like he belonged more in a carnival fair than in a cape fight.

  "Well, introductions can come later then, I'm much more pressed on getting out of here." A figure dressed in black said, his voice was gruff and deep. "Need a ride?"

  For a long moment I stared at the strange murder dogs.

  I shook my head. He shrugged.

  "You got a name?" The purple themed– the foxish girl said.

  "I- I haven't picked one yet." The words struggled in my throat a little before I got them out.

  "Well, bug, a cape is going to be here in a few– so you should probably get out of here." She said, but not without shooting me with one of those playful grins.

  And with that they left, probably being in a rush to get away from the hot flames and all.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  I should probably get out of here too.

  I took a final glance at the scene– I didn't want to be labeled as a villain for running but I wasn't going to die today. I could deal with the consequences later.

  Something caught my eye, a flash of white and blue– the one that managed to fight Lung on equal footing.

  His mask was gone, probably burned off from the heat of the battle.

  Matthews?

  I thought as I ran with as much speed as my unpowered legs would take me.

  Huh

  ***

  I couldn't just walk away.

  I thought about doing so anyway but that would have been very stupid. I killed someone. Villain or not, committing a crime with your face in full view and then trying to run away would not have been a very smart move.

  It felt odd. Almost laughable. The first time I took a life I almost hyperventilated, my mind felt like it was about to burst from the mental pressure. But now?

  Now? I could take a nap if I was tired enough. And that scared me. I killed someone and I felt nothing.

  I never felt nothing. There was always something– a slight hint of guilt, a little disgust from the blood– but no. Nothing.

  Maybe it was because he tried to kill me first, maybe it was because it was Lung, maybe it was true that it became easier the more you took lives. I didn't feel particularly good about it but—

  The world never felt so clear

  After that moment– something clicked. Something changed. I could feel it. I could feel everything.

  And god, oh god how I wish I couldn't

  I wasn't just strong. I could feel every shift in the world around me. Every... thing. The pulse of life, the chaos of war, the weeping of families— it was all so close. So real.

  A newly triggered teen in Russia being chased by men in black. Societal wars and genocides committed in Africa— A Nigerian tribe perpetuating it. Families weeping in pain in Afghanistan, rubble crushing them like soft grapes. I couldn't shut it out. I felt their pain, their fear—it was too much.

  The world had never been so sharp, but it didn't feel like a gift. It felt like a curse.

  I almost emptied my stomach on the spot

  The world was disgusting, and something— no, someone needed to change it

  The wind had a sharp edge, the flutter of birds' wings sounded louder. The tap-tap-tap of ants on the ground, struggling to carry food, echoed like a drumbeat in my mind. I could feel it all—each pulse, each movement, every detail as if the world had magnified, and I could reach out and touch it.

  What the fuck are my powers?

  I have never been able to answer this question, at first I thought I was a minor brute, strong but far from invincible. My strength was getting stronger, slowly but surely, I wasn't Alexandria strong but I was strong. I don't know what changed or when exactly something had changed but at this moment I could feel it.

  There was no force in this world that could overpower me.

  But just as quickly as that thought came, something even more terrifying pierced through me—what happens when nothing can stop you? What kind of person do you become if you're unstoppable? Am I even human anymore?

  "Steel."

  A voice cut through my thoughts like a knife. I barely registered it.

  Time to face the music I guess.

  What happened next was almost a blur, Armsmaster took my statement, his eyes as flat as ever. I nodded when I was supposed to and shut my mouth when I was supposed to.

  Lung or not, I still killed someone. We weren't about to start holding hands and singing kumbaya.

  He directed me to PHQ headquarters. He rode his bike, and I flew beside him. Before today, flying had felt almost impossible. Now, it felt like I'd been doing it all my life. The air felt as natural as the ground I walked. Moving was effortless.

  Soon I found myself in a white room, a robe to cover my ruined costume and a small mask given to me by Armsmaster– the only thing covering my face.

  "Just remember," he said, his voice almost too calm, "Be truthful and honest, you're not necessarily in trouble but you need to trust us for us to trust you." Those were the only words I got before the door slammed shut.

  Trust? Fuck off.

  At least I wasn't in cuffs I thought, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing. If I decided to kill everyone in this building nothing could stop me, least of all cuffs. Armsmaster knew it. I knew it.

  The people who gave the orders to have me here probably knew it.

  The door opened and a very chubby woman stepped in, flanked by two heroes I knew all too well. Battery and Assault.

  I braced myself.

  ***

  "As you can see we are at an impasse," the fat woman spoke, her lips flapping like a disgusting pig, "there are dangerous people out there who would gladly get at the Lung killer– Bakuda, Oni Lee. These people are vicious. They will make sure, to the best of their ability, that nowhere is safe."

  It didn't take long for me to understand what she was getting at, the only reason why she was speaking to me in the first place. I mean she looked important, she probably had better stuff to do. I didn't expect it. I didn't expect any of this.

  "You want me to join your hero organization… the Wards maybe?" I asked, almost regretting uttering the question.

  She didn't even nod. We understood each other and that was all she needed. The figure next to her– Battery, shifted a bit, probably a bit uncomfortable at pressuring a teen to join something they probably would have joined already if they wanted to. But the truth was– I didn't feel forced. I had come to a realization.

  It wasn't like I was against it. It just never really crossed my mind. I thought I had to do everything by myself. You know, make the costume, establish myself, get some accolades under my belt.

  But that was all bullshit. I only managed to get other people killed.

  I put my head down a bit and just stared, feeling my breath shake. I didn't want to join, but it made sense. I wasn't cut out to be alone anymore. Not with these powers. Not with what I could do. I'm better off in a program where I'm not doing everything alone. Acutely aware of just how powerful and volatile my abilities were.

  From the day I got my powers I always felt so alone. My mom had too much on her plate for me to even think about telling her. My friends? I couldn't drag them into this world, where people could die in a ditch and no one would even remember their names.

  "Good." The pig said. I really didn't like her. "We understand each other. We'll contact your parents and discuss this at greater length another day. For now, go home. Get some rest." She paused, took a breath, and then almost whispered the next part. "You did good work today. Lung was a murderer. We were looking for ways to get him into the Birdcage anyway. Dismissed."

  With that, she turned and left, a fucking smile plastered on her face– bitch. Assault and Battery didn't even say anything. They just nodded like all this was normal. Business as usual.

  I sat there a bit longer than I should have. The reality of the situation hit me like a truck. I killed someone—and I was walking away from it. No consequences. No questions. In fact, it felt like I was being rewarded for it.

  A contract with the Wards. Mom wouldn't have to work so hard anymore. I could be part of a team, part of people who would support me. People with powers like me.

  And I had killed people, including Lung. They probably even knew about the gang members. And they didn't care.

  It felt wrong. Unfair.

  I just sat there, staring. I had won today. But it felt more like a loss. A loss that pushed me deeper into a corner I'd been trying to avoid.

  I was only getting stronger. And the more I used my powers, the more I lost myself.

  And I wasn't sure I could stop.