Chapter 2: Chapter 2
“I’ve got a blanket. Andthe inhaler. I’m fine. Holly, your fatal weakness is your arrogance, right? So let’s use that and make this quick. You’re thinking you’ve disposed of Beacon for good. The oldLightning Kid. Someone’s sidekick. Easy. Not a challenge. You can turn your back on him and let that be your undoing. Ryan, speaking of, go shoot Holly in the back.”
“I’m not thatmuch of a dick!” Ryan said.
“I really don’t mind,” Holly said, which made both his partners wince. Ryan knew John would be having the exact same thoughts he himself was, on the other end of the connection. As much as they all three enjoyed Holly’s genuinely submissive tendencies in bed, there was a line that got unhealthy, and that line hovered right around the need to keep on proving himself and his own redemption via martyrdom.
Holly, who knew perfectly well what they’d be thinking but hadn’t quite accepted the extent of his partners’ genuine concern over his own well-being, added, “I’d trust you not to hit anything vital, and we’ve got to make it convincing, haven’t we?”
“Holiday,” John said, “I didn’t mean you couldn’t put up a personal force field as a shield!”
“Oh. Right.”
“Tell me when,” Ryan said, sneaking up around a bridge pylon. He wanted good footing for this; he didn’t want to miss. When he landed his boot slipped briefly on rain-slick metal; he grabbed a piece of bridge and held on.
John paused to cough. Ryan and Holly paused to worry.
Down below, a few civilians pointed and called out Ryan’s code name. Their superhero, or at least half the local team. Electricity and flight and light in the darkness. Metaphoric and literal. A beacon, as it were.
Normally John would’ve been out here with him. Much better at crowd control. Big and kind and comforting. Super-soldier strength and minor telepathic illusions, which was always nice for dealing with magical threats or facades thereof.
John Trent, aka Sundown, had been a recognizable force for good for over fifteen years. People tended to like him.
Of course, normally John hadn’t run into a poison-filled trap in order to defuse a deadly bioweapon three days earlier. Self-sacrificial idiot. Giant martyr, arguably worse than Holiday. All muscles and good intentions.
Ryan adored him. Which meant scolding was in order. “If you don’t sound any better by tomorrow I’m calling my mother.”
“Come on, last time your mother threatened to sedate me for a week, that’s not fair—”
“You had two broken legs!”
Ryan’s mother adored John, too. Both Ryan’s parents did; both Doctors Yamamoto, the surgeon and the biomedical engineer, had immediately adopted their son’s partner and enveloped him in love and expensive holiday gifts and cooking of his favorite foods. They fussed over John’s birthday and even the anniversary of his first partner’s death. If they knew John was unwell, they’d show up at Clifftop armed with medical knowledge, laboratory supplies, and at least three kinds of soup.
Ryan occasionally suspected his parents liked John better than they liked him. Had to do with John’s old-fashioned respectful politeness. Irresistible. Which he himself knew all too well. Head over heels, right from the start. That first-ever leap into side-by-side battle. Taking down a robot army, falling in love.
“I can still shoot with broken legs,” John argued. “Which you need to do. Soon, please, there’s chatter happening on the radio.”
“I’ll go and be theatrical at people,” Holly said. “And pretend I’m not paying attention to you, so you can shoot me.” His cape rippled majestically. His mask caught storm-light and glinted. His rings hummed; he spread his arms and descended toward huddled humans.
Ryan couldn’t not roll his eyes.
Holiday Fortune Lyndsay Jones—the last surviving Sinister Sorcerer—gestured grandly at his audience. Intoned, switching to the external channel, “You are naught but earthworms before the power of my magic! Tremble before your rightful leader! Quake upon the sight of true power! Kneel!”
“Earthworms?” Ryan said.
“He’s having fun,” John said. “You know he loves Shakespeare. Though I’m not sure about the earthworms, either.”
“Would you hurry up,” Holly said, switching back, “I can only shout at them for so long before they realize I’m not in fact going to harm anyone.”
Ryan shoved wet hair out of his face again, made a mental note to ask whether his father could do something about a weatherproof cowl, and lifted a hand. “Got shields up?”
“Yes, Ryan,” Holly said.
Thunder clamored. Waves crashed across the bay. The bridge swayed. Ryan shouted, “We’ll never kneel before you!”—and yes, okay, he was having fun too—then summoned up white-hot electric bolts, arcs that flew from his hand and struck the Sinister Sorcerer squarely between the shoulders.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone