Amorphous.

  Analogous.

  A lost dream, forever left to the void that preceded it.

  A gulf that had no bearing, no poise.

  Therefore no need to remember.

  Leaving nothing to worry about.

  Not even as-

  *BOOOOOOOOooooooooooom*

  As Seth’s eyes shot open to the deep thud ringing his ears.

  What it was, what it could mean, questions trying to coerce him wide awake. But still sleepy eyes failed to care, blinking the world back into and out of focus in slow terminal relapse. His room was dim, the curtains still closed, morning light barely eking through and shining across ill holding surfaces. Those questions losing ground, more powerful urges countering. As pure justification smothered them whole. Because…

  'It's too early.'

  It was summer, no school or lessons or waking up early allowed. Kids weren’t made to wake up early anyway. He pulled his head back over on his pillow, regaining his lost comfort with slothful curmudgeon. Grumbling away the weight of his eyelids. Trying to get back to… to whatever he was dreaming of. Nothing stuck, just empty space. Empty memories. But he knew he would rather be asleep. Rather be comfortable. But before he could drift back empty bliss, he realized something else.

  'It’s so… quiet.'

  If he was ever woken up early, it was always because of his parents’ morning routines. Almost like they were trying to annoy him awake most days. No smells from down stairs, no sounds echoing through the house, no busy work and casual conversations.

  It was way too quiet.

  His drift was thoroughly shot, worry becoming antithesis to rest. He rolled up and on to the side of his two tone bed. Rubbing his lightly browned hair for all the blood flow his scalp was missing. Still half asleep and oblivious to anything not worth his while or too demanding he know about it. His room little more than a blur as he rubbed the grit from his eyes. Like… he didn’t know what all was in it. Though certainly not all was forgotten about.

  Hopping the slight fall off, he groggily shuffled and kicked through action figures all gathered up below. Most still stanced to fight whatever villain would be on TV next, whichever was brave enough to come out of hiding. A single one avoided for no lack of reverence, cared more about amid the less vague obscurity. Blocky red and green and yellow armor barely covering tan bravado, feather headdress frilled out into mohawk to dare the sky, and obsidian toothed blade of hard to pronounce heritage somehow absent from his little plastic hand. Some weird feeling welling up as he looked down on it. Panging the world to a sought after stop, if but for a moment.

  As he looked down on his favorite hero, on Tlatoani in his prime merchandising phase. Not wanting to leave even this parasocial standstill. But an equal force pushed him ahead. And away…

  Muscle memory bade him to grab the windbreaker he always left draped over his chair. Putting it on over the thick comfy pajamas as the world played on. Without sympathy. As he headed toward the door to the hall with questions rising in his throat.

  “Mom? Dad?”

  Nothing but continued silence as he stood there, just shy of halfway up the frame marked to show he’d grown. Small pride urging him out and into action. He was a big kid, he didn't need to be worried so much.

  He poked his head into his parent’s bedroom, but the bed was made and the curtains were still drawn. His mom always opened them first thing in the morning, to everyone’s curmudgeon. The bathroom door was open, but the light was off so they weren’t in there either. His dad’s office was empty, but he’d always told him that productivity was pointless this early. And always repeated it like Seth would forget it or something.

  But still, why was it so quiet?

  Surely there would be some noise, his mom making breakfast and clinking dishes, his dad making coffee from their overused maker, either of them talking. But there was nothing. And that was growing his worry into full concern, defeating that pride, and steering him toward the stairs down. Winding him down past family photos full of people he… he really couldn’t remember. Distant relatives he just never cared to know. Or never knew in the first place.

  Making it to the foyer, his bare feet stepped to the first floor. Right into the chilling morning air pooling over it. Turning him to the front door he knew full well was open. But seeing it was more anxiety inducing then it should be. Fully ajar, dim light illuminating the storage closet door that was directly opposite. And quiet.

  Way too quiet.

  No birds, no wind, not even someone driving by or mowing their lawn. It was like the world outside was standing still. Waiting for him. Waiting for him to make it all real.

  Seth inched ever forward to the door frame, heart beating louder in his ears than it should be. Little body barely able to keep from trembling.

  And yet… yet the scene awaiting him was indeed one of supreme stillness.

  His overly friendly neighborhood completely stopped. His parents finally found there, standing apart. Mom halfway up the pathway to the door with her hand covering her mouth, dad all the way at the sidewalk frozen with tension. Both staring straight ahead like everyone else on the street.

  Mr. Thomas next door at the sidewalk too, as was the whole Maltsburger family on the other side. Mrs. Buchanan leaning out her bedroom window, while Mr. and Mrs. Peirce were stopped halfway into their car on their way to work. Every one of them staring out toward the center of town.

  And the slowly rising plume of black smoke over it.

  “Mom!?”

  As if the spell sealing this moment broke apart, both parents turned at this call. Allowing Seth to see their surprise and worry on… on what should be their faces.

  But all there was, all... he knew, was a blur.

  The red scarf around his mother’s neck brighter than it should be. The one she would always wrap around him if he got cold. The one thing he could truly see. Truly… remember. The only thing there was, as it suddenly started billowing toward him.

  A strange noise carried by the wind, from down the street, whirling both parents back around in time to see Mr. Farrow at the end of the street lurch away before-

  *zzzzZZZAP*

  Before the world came crashing to a grim… slow… speed.

  A bolt, no a tendril of electricity striking him from around the corner of their short drive. Enveloping him in blinding light burning away detail and sanity. As two more arcs lurched out from where he stood. One struck out toward the O’Crowly house on the left, barreling through a window and detonating in a shower of splinters and glass. The right hitting Ms. Mable on her front porch as she saw the horror too late.

  But not Seth. No. He was forced to watch, to see, as his heart sank to levels it should not go. As it compounded grim inevitability with the shock of his parents turning back around. In abject panic and…

  And cruel clear focus. Like his mind finally caught and cleared away the fuzz that had been clouding his reality. Like it was something he knew, but couldn’t remember. Like a hand had come down to wipe away the fog, but only made it worse.

  His father’s light brown hair and green eyes burning toward him in desperate fury, pivoting and reaching out for his family too far away.

  His mother closer, reaching for him instinctively. Dark brown hair flowing behind her, and shared hazel eyes staring out as if this is the last time she will see her son.

  All the while the tendrils kept tearing through the air further.

  The left bursting out and striking the Peirces, their car shattering between them. The right slamming through the porch awning it caved in, right into Mrs. Buchanan. Blowing out her windows and adding more thunder to this too slow hell.

  The left hit Mr. Thomas as he recoiled from the shock, almost prone and pleading. The right wicked and chaining through the Maltsburgers on the other side. Then splitting again, one tendril tearing away down the street and the other…

  The other slamming his father in the side.

  The collective flashes washed away the street, Seth’s town, that smoke, his life. Yet that arc impacted as if it were a wanton blaring freight train none could not see. As it stole away those features in pure plasma cruelty. Before his dad could even make it another desperate step.

  And yet still it arced.

  Whiting out the rest of the world from sky to lawn. And chaining toward his mother with no care for even this moment of clarity. Light haloing around her as the tendril bared its hungry teeth, striking her in the back and bending her upward. Forcing her teared up eyes away as everything disappeared in the blinding light enveloping her. As even her face disappeared from his life.

  As adrenaline churned and mind realizes all too much what was occurring, and yet refused to let Seth move even a muscle. To look away, to stop this hell, to stop the pain rampaging through. Even as that final rippling, jagged tendril left his mother’s blown out and indistinguishable form. And stretched out toward him.

  He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. Only be there, forced to watch as it grew slower, watch it arc off densities in the air as grim inevitability burned the world into his brain. As it went into overdrive out of reflex and spite, trying to keep it like it never could before. As it came closer and closer.

  Until there was nothing at all.

  The world falling away. No blinding heat, no feeling of impact. Just a total loss of sensory input and necessary reaction. Replaced, consumed, by a darkness eating away at the edges of everything. A darkness encroaching upon all he could see, could feel, could know. His mind, being blotted out, torn through without regard or care.

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  Taking what little he had.

  The candy and toys his neighbors used to give him to make him happy, the dead animals he used to cower from at the edge of the forest, the annoying way his mom forced him up in the morning, the way his dad ruined breakfast every day. The… the…

  Every emotion, every tiny memory, every…

  Every memory he had.

  All of it being ripped away like haphazard threading. Defiant holds trying to grip but kept fading away, the blurry fuzz of failed recording filling every void in that blotted path. Leaving him nothing… but their absence.

  Their sucking void, their knowing loss, their known destroyer. Nothing but loss, and knowing it was lost. Leaving only that which it caused. The one thing that exuded from that swallowing abyss. The one thing it shared without cause or concern. The thing it left behind in its wake of nothingness. A burning! A blinding! Unassailable-

  …Light?

  A sudden new light, flaring into being irrespective of this void. Countering the darkness like heaven come to spare, overshadowing everything trying to take from him. Shattering even the white out of the real. Scorching the sky back to known across the town, streaking as if it had no care for physics or grim perception or loss of there in. A massive bolt of lightning tearing over rooftops and blurring out all but its magnificent fury. As if aimed with purpose and wanton disregard for that dared spread darkness. With direction and condemnation of its burning siphon.

  Flying straight for Seth.

  Crashed into him with force enough to slam the world back to what it once was. Snapping that abyss to cowering recoil. Colliding with power enough to blow both the front door and the closet door off their hinges. Both smashing through the storage closet like a freak hurricane, sending everything falling from its shelf or rack. An avalanche of disuse burying him in a mountain of coats and cleaning equipment until the only darkness surrounding him was the real and true article.

  A pain insurmountable, existence overheated and burning its wrapper. The world refading away more physical, concussion and agony over existential loss. But before his consciousness could drift away in sympathy, Seth could see that dim light once again. Finally through with its moment of blinding hell. A pinhole in the mountain of clear blue sky, fading away. Diminishing more and more before it all faded too…

  *rRr rRr rRr*

  To the alarm clock ringing off Seth’s barely asleep gid.

  An empty feeling permeated but it was familiar and hardly a worry. Understood. He didn’t dream. He might have once, but not anymore. Maybe because of what happened to him, or simply because he was just broken. More, less visible scars. But it wasn’t too bad, it wasn’t like he remembered what it was like to dream anyway. So there wasn’t anything to miss. Easily backfilled by what was on his mind before he slept. Usually another lecture from Speaker or another Garkah looking to pass on their knowledge. But, for as much as his bed was comforting in this only slightly disheartening introspection, he was still way to giddy to stay tucked in.

  No sense being late to your last day at work after all.

  Creaking up, he couldn’t help trudged to the bathroom though. Sweeping up a prepped shirt along the way to cut the chill. General Advance leading a tank parade across his chest, because business casual wasn’t his style. And it got in the way most of the time. Not a lot of dry cleaning in the area for some reason.

  His apartment, though small, wasn’t as dingy as the exterior made it out to be. New appliances and furniture existed alongside drab yellowing wallpaper. The fixtures in the bathroom were much the same, slightly disintegrating molding and stained ceramic clashing with clean metal and modern efficiency. Seth had the money to burn on things he could get himself, and had plenty of pestering laden know how from the Garkah on caring for metal, but in turn he cared little for aesthetics or stuff he’d have to call out for. Or spend hours doing when it barely mattered.

  Blankly staring into the mirror as he brushed his teeth told him he was still the same as before. Still that same kid. Just taller. And with the complete white out that was his hair. Frazzled and thick and refusing to go back to the brown it used to be no matter how much it was cut or grown out. An annoying reminder he’d always have, but still he shook that thought away to regain his smile. Though his skin was also still pretty pale just by proximity.

  ‘I’m inside too much. But that’s at least changing today.’

  As he left the bathroom, he scooped up and hobbled into his set aside cargo pants, heading for the kitchen a foot at a time. Just a single left hand turn away in this one room apartment. He didn’t need much space anyway.

  But, as he continued his morning, a distant boom rattled his only window. He didn’t pay it any mind though. It be on the news in short order, and usually wasn’t worth it. Probably just yet another idiot cropping up and getting beaten back down. He usually didn't make it to see the beatdown in time if it was anyone too weak. And sure enough the echo of the alert system started up in its wake, warning everyone to steer clear. A slight judge at the timing guessing it was in a central district, but that only narrowed it to 50/50 between commercial and residential.

  He listened as he pulled out butter, bread, and a cinnamon shaker for a light breakfast. He liked his sweets maybe a bit too much. Muffled words came through from the alert, but he could make out ‘park’ inter mixed with the din. So there was the answer, Raffle’s Memorial, aka the Fight Park. So an idiot with some sensibility. So maybe the odds were closer to 70/30 he would be able to see this one. Way too common a spot and way too prepared for it though. The place even had unofficial seating if you were lucky to be in the vicinity when things went down.

  As he put the bread down in the toaster he heard another boom, this time it was a little closer, and higher up. A sonic boom.

  ‘Someone was out and about this morning. And now it was paying off.’

  Then something softer, a droning in the siren echo, the jet whine of one of the League’s transports flying up and over the city. Seth smiled wider. The odds just hit 100, this was a real villain.

  ’And worth the detour.’

  The toaster popped as a voice tried to rise from the silence. Before the lightly browned bread had a chance to fall it was buttered, dusted, and hanging out of Seth’s mouth as he was pulling on an overstuffed backpack and slamming out the door to his buildings central stair. No time for a sit down, he had miles to clear.

  Sprinting down the two flights was too slow, so he mounted the banister and slid, munching on his toast for the first length. Only lurching to a respectful stop to allow his only other neighbor to get by.

  “Morning Ms. Mahan!”

  Seth squeezed by his built yet kindly, and literally blue haired, grandma of a neighbor as she climbed up the stairs back to her room.

  “No sense in being in such a hurry dearie. If you’ve seen one fight you’ve seen them all.”

  “I know Ms. Mahan, I’ll be careful”

  Seth returned to speeding away and careened out the door, skipping the last few steps of the building’s stoop by kicking off over the edge into the garage area.

  He didn’t even make contact as his garage door unlatched and got flung open to his arm whamming up. If it’s conductive, its fair game for a bit of sudden and very conspicuous electromagnetism. Finishing his toast, he put his pack down and quickly grabbed up a needed peripheral. A loose suit covered in sockets. A connector suit to slip into so he could snap into the empty skeleton of his armor. He needed to give the illusion he was taking his powersuit for a spin.

  Zipping up to it, he popped a button on the left side shoulder bracket of said empty skeleton, and let it flower open so he could step in. Magnetic rings snapped into the connectors with pleasant metallic pings, joining the movements of the two together. It couldn’t get skin tight over his clothes so his moves weren’t going to be very precise, but he didn’t need precision. Also he forgot his shoes, so this was a nice compromise.

  A heavy roll caged foot lifted and a smooth whir resounded before thudding the concrete. Nice easy moves, but only the precursor set up. He carefully lurched around his central crane and scooped back up his bag. Stomping the frame out of the garage and making sure it locked up behind him before he prepped for takeoff. The joints whirred and whined smoothly as he tested them, stretching his arms and reaching about as far as he could go. Tightly wound servos resisting with mediated rhythm. Sockets clanking their limits. Pistons moving inline like tendons and keeping the weight even. Articulation sliding nicely. All set, he hooped his pack over his shoulder, and decided to put his foot down. Crunching asphalt under three hundred odd pounds of titanium set to sprint into the fray.

  Seth eyed his surroundings, mind revving and pathing what was oncoming. The road was clear ahead, but downtown wasn’t going to be, so he’d need to use the rooftops. Which meant he needed some more power to-go. His eyes closed, his will given the reigns. The soft inaudible buzz of the powerlines running parallel over him rising to a closer decibel. One being ever so slightly tapped at the connections. So the tree wouldn’t be drained of all its sap, but the nectar would flow just fine. The buzz becoming more audible, louder as the air fought to not ignite in plasma pathing. But Seth got all he needed, and could feel it race down every nerve in his body.

  As the asphalt under his foot crushed to dust and all that metal and meat fused together burst out into the open road. Swinging to align with the flow of traffic, and flooring the accelerator right into the driveshaft.

  The Garkah had taught him a hell of a lot. How to push and pull electricity, to use it and only lightly abuse it. How to focus that uptake internally rather than just externally. To almost use electricity like it was muscle and tendon, as fuel for everything he could do. And the effects stuck all too well. He didn't know everything, but he certainly wasn’t complaining about that. What he was decrying about though was not having a face shield. Because the wind was not a fan of his as he picked up speed. But beggars can’t be choosers when you’re bounding hundreds of feet at a time.

  He stormed down the fairly empty industrial street. Exoskeletal feet keeping him from tearing the soles of his suit up, but they were doing a number on the roadway. When he had enough speed, he put his foot down again and launched upward toward a low building, crunching one last bit of asphalt but clearing the lip of the roof and continuing on. All that weight clanging and bending the metal copings the League had mandated be installed on most buildings. It was better to have a single hardened piece of metal take the brunt than risk raining shattered concrete on people. Also it’s easier to repair and clean with the right super. And really helped beat the traffic.

  A relative small leap from the roof of an outer office complex forced him back down to concrete, the suburbs not mandated as tightly. But he was back up as he hit the first shopping center made right off downtown, the distance between roofs waning quickly. At least horizontally. Vertically the variance started getting tedious. A clear path forward soon required jumping entire intersections, or three whole turns to get around the increasing skyscraper grade.

  When Seth finally had to climb, at least the metal coping extended down the corners on most of the buildings. Better to have maintainable metal than shattered windows. In all honesty this city was designed from the ground up for hero work, and practically required supers to keep it running. Especially with events like this. The booms were still resounding from the park, but it seemed whoever was up was already there.

  Reaching the top of a middle weight corporate office, Seth could see his destination. A big circular park ringed by heavy duty high-rises. The business district core, and the main draw point for whenever a villain decided to go all out. And, from the smoke and dust, it looked like that’s what’s happened. Which meant the park was going to need to be replanted… Again.

  Jumping those last few bounds across brand name headquarters and backend analyst bureaus, he found his position. One of the buildings just off the central ring, some CEO’s helipad offering the perfect vantage. Close enough to see without technically being inside the police line flashing below. And not on top of the final set of towers that were basically just concrete blocks set up to keep the worst hits from spilling out. Because for all his bravado in doing this, he wasn’t about to set up on a sacrificial building meant to fall in on itself. Strength and speed are nice, but he can’t fly.

  Glancing at the still starting action, he unpacked his lightly wind shorn bag, pulling out a smooth hunch of metal he'd had squirreled away. A recon suite ugh… borrowed… from work. Macro zoom cameras, thermals, inferred. No night vision though, but that was usually already available. Audio capture antennas, interception receivers, even separate earbuds. But most of that was just excess here. All he needed was the camera and antenna. Because he was going to have to pay for this somehow.

  ‘Kaysha appreciates a since surprise every now and then.’

  Snapping it onto the shoulder of his exoskeleton, it tapped into the wire framing and socketed nicely. He pulled up the scope from its brace and brought it over to his face. And slotting the provided earbuds in for the antenna. The hud inside it adjusted before his eyes, a small glitch or two signaling the Garkah were tapping in for the show as well. And the earbuds blocked out the ever present din of downtown for them. So…

  “I should scold your shirking of responsibilities. But at least you are getting practice on your inertia control. And firsthand intel has been slim as of late. Just do not forget you have a time limit.”

  “Eh it’s his last day anyway. What are they going to do? Fire him.”

  Speaker and Threat were always there to counter each other. But they both knew this was rare enough to warrant a bit of fun. Because this was Seth’s other hobby, fight watching. Amateurs and professionals alike ran into the fray to just catch a glimpse of real fights like this. The official stuff just never cut it or was edited to high hell, and the odd tournament had limits and standards. How was he going to know how to fight when it was finally his chance? How else was he going to learn what it took to be the hero he needed to be?

  “Who's up to the docket today anyway?”

  The unit zoomed quietly as the elevation provided an unhindered sightline between those faux skyscrapers. The scene waiting for them almost a cliché. A blasted apart battlefield of dirt and buckled concrete. A billowing aftershock framing up it. Several heroes lined and facing down a villain almost twice their size. Couldn’t ask for better. Seth could even pick out a few names he-

  ‘Holy shit!! They didn’t just send whoever was on call. It’s the Elite!’