Paragon
Chapter 1

An intense jolt of pain shot through Zeke’s body in two quick intervals. The first came from a vicious fist the size of a Christmas ham slamming into his chest. The other followed quickly when his head and back collided with the chain-link cage. He ducked his head to the left, ignoring the pain, when another blow came straight for his temple. His knee shot up landing in his opponent’s solar plexus. The sound of his assailant losing all of his breath was a satisfying reward.

The audience surrounding them howled and cheered as the large, lumberjack of a man bent over gripping his stomach. The brute seemed genuinely surprised that someone of Zeke’s stature could hit so hard, especially considering the size difference. Jack “The Bloodletter” Gallows was a beastly hulk and as hairy as as a bear. His shirt was off and covered in protruding boney quills that seemed highly uncomfortable to live with. Zeke had to time and aim every shot he took very carefully to avoid impaling his own hand. Though there was little time to think when it came to this fight. Jack was almost 6′7" and built like a tank, yet he was deceptively fast and agile. One of the perks of being a Super, Zeke guessed.

Zeke swerved to his left and kicked straight up, launching the shin of his right leg into Jack’s face sending the giant stumbling back panting in anger. Jack quickly recovered and roared like an animal, which sent the small crowd around them into a whooping cry of encouragement.

The fight took place in a bar, very deep underground, that had become the regular spot for Supers to congregate and avoid the Normal world. It also hosted Super vs. Super fights, some allowing the use of abilities and some requiring the use of only body and mind. Zeke fought in both types of fights, it was how he’d made a living for the past eight years since getting his GED from his Aunt Brida’s “home school.” Going out wasn’t really an option for him since his entire body was now a chilly blue, emphasized with yellow eyes and crimson red hair.

Another rain of blows came for his body and skull that he quickly bobbed away from. His left hand misted with intense cold, becoming an icy cestus which he used to block a hay-maker from Jack. Zeke ducked under another similar blow and launched himself up leading with his icy left fist connecting perfectly with Jack’s jaw. A cracking sound ripped through the air, partially from Jack’s jaw breaking and partially from the shards of ice that flew from the impact. Jack stumbled backwards again but Zeke didn’t let up. He rained blows on his opponent, intent on not giving Jack the time to react. A few swipes came at him which he quickly ducked or parried. He had to end this soon.

Sure he was making a good cat-and-mouse style show of things, and the crowd loved it, but Zeke was getting tired. The fight had been going on for easily thirty minutes now and Jack showed virtually no fatigue. Zeke searched for an opening; a way to grab hold of Jack long enough to give the fight a shocking ending.

Jack recovered from his disorientation and went berserk, almost drooling at the mouth. His eyes widened with rage. He swiped, thrust, kicked and lunged like an animal, trying to grab and maim Zeke, furious at the assault he’d suffered. Zeke had been warned about this. Bloodletter had a reputation for being more primal than sound of mind. This tended to scare a lot of the fighters he had previously faced to the point of being frozen in fear, surprise, or both. Both were highly likely.

Zeke’s mind acted quickly and let his powers do half his work for him. Patches of ice formed on the floor allowing him to slide away harmlessly and at the same time wrecking Jack’s footwork and almost causing him to fall several times. Then the giant’s foot launched forward with a vicious lunge of his body and planted itself in Zeke’s chest. Again, Zeke flew back into the cage; the impact knocked the wind right out of him. Zeke coughed and there was a slight splatter of blood on the floor. He wiped his lip and saw more blood on his hand and looked up just in time to see two very large spines erect from Jack’s wrist. They stretched forward almost a foot past his fingertips. Zeke’s eyes widened in sudden realization that the Bloodletter was out for blood and was likely going to try to kill him.

It wasn’t horribly uncommon for Supers to die in these fights, though it was something they tried to avoid whenever possible. This did not seem to be one of those times. Zeke saw only one way out and dashed forward on another patch of ice. Every inch he got closer to Jack he was summoning energy from his surroundings: the static in the air, the electricity in the lights above him which now flickered violently. His eyes lit up with pale yellow light and crackled with electricity. The red hair on his head buzzed with static.

Jack swiped left and right and stabbed quickly with his spines and made every effort to maim Zeke, but none of his blows landed or even came close. Both of Jack’s massive hands rose above his head once Zeke was just below him and then came down for a brutal finishing blow. But they were stopped. Zeke had only a literal split second to perfectly time catching the spines and then discharging all of his power into them.

Zeke’s timing was absolutely flawless. In the millisecond Zeke’s hands firmly gripped the two rippled spines protruding from Jack’s wrists torrents of amps and volts coursed through his body and into the hairy giant. Spidery-legs of lightning cackled and crawled around the two and Jack howled in agony. Burns covered his body and his spines started to steam. His entire form locked up and twitched. Every muscle in Jack’s body continued to spasm with every jolt that assailed his nervous system.

When the light show ended, Jack fell back and collapsed onto his back as Zeke tried to keep the “pleased with myself and grateful that ended things” look from creeping across his face. The referee, if you could call him that considering he barely did anything during the fight, jumped to his feet and ran over to Jack’s side. The crowd stood in silence while the ref, a middle aged blonde man with a crow’s peak and a fat face with breath that suggested he liked anchovies on everything, checked Jack’s neck for a pulse. The ref smiled and patted Jack on the chest which was once again rising and falling with air.

“Your victor!” The ref bellowed, skipping over to Zeke and raising his hand triumphantly. “The Storm Striker!” The crowd whooped and cheered in excitement. Zeke’s cage name was a little cheesy, but he liked it and it was better than the other name people sometimes used behind his back, “The Wraith.” He wasn’t a huge fan of that one; a wraith was a ghost that caused chaos and bloodshed and no matter the circumstance he always took every precaution not to kill.

Zeke’s adrenaline died down and all the pain from the fight came rushing into him at once almost forcing him to vomit. He fought the gagging and smiled, high fiving, bro-fisting and clasping hands with random patrons of the bar. People cheered and jeered their personal opinions on the fight but Zeke paid neither any mind and nudged his way through the crowd to the one man he really wanted to see right now. The Empath.

The Empath hung around the bar on fight nights because he was paid to heal the fighters, if they lived. His ability allowed him to actually mend physical injuries and pains, which came in handy on more than one occasions. He was easy to find, mostly due to the fact he was always in the exact same spot and had the most legendary beard of any man Zeke had ever witnessed. It was long, down past his chest and chestnut brown but not wiry. The Empath braided the two strands of hair that came from his mustache with little cross beads. He always said his powers came from prayer but it was his personal belief and, being somewhat of a believer himself, Zeke never said anything about it. He actually liked that the Empath would channel his powers by praying over the people he intended to heal.

Zeke finally spotted the healer and sat next to him, one hand firmly wrapped around his own side attempting to alleviate the pain with very little success.

“I’m assuming it’s your stomach that’s bothering you.” The Empath said with a curt smile barely visible underneath all the hair covering virtually every inch of his face. “You took a few hard ones in there.”

“Oh yeah. I thought I’d let him tenderize me before I went home.” Zeke responded with his usual sarcasm, but the Empath paid his disdain no heed and placed his hands over Zeke’s chest. He closed his eyes and let out a steady hum befitting a choral bass as white light radiated blindingly from the Empath’s hands. This part always felt really weird to Zeke. It was like getting blood drawn. You can feel the tube sucking out the blood from your veins, only with this it was his internal organs, nerves and skin repairing, mending and going back to their original positions as opposed to wherever the hell they had ended up in the fight.

This went on for several minutes and, as always, Zeke remained quiet and patient. Even closed his own eyes and tried to relax, tried to ignore the squirmy feeling of his body repairing itself and trying to go back to the way it used to feel when it was still healthy and hadn’t just had a mammoth pound on him for forty minutes. When it was over the light faded and even the noise of the club got louder, almost as if he’d forgotten he was surrounded by drunk Supers and party goers looking for the next round of stimulus and entertainment to give their lives some form of meaning.

Zeke always hated places like this; loud, obnoxious, annoying and belligerent, but the money he made being here and fighting was good and he’s only ever lost twice and those were his first two fights. Since then he’d had a perfect streak for the past five years with a new fight every week. He’d learned to use his powers to assist him and discovered unique ways to give himself an advantage, as well as discovering new abilities along the way. He discovered not only could he make his surroundings bitterly cold, but he could actually form ice wherever he focused his will. He trained and found he was able to coat his body in ice to protect himself, or create ice patches that he could slide around on if he needed to maneuver quickly.

When he was twenty years old he discovered his most impressive trait however, and that was the gift of seeing electrical energy if he focused enough. He could trace circuitry and tell exactly how much energy was stored or flowing. He saw the lines of electrical current glow orange whenever he activated his new-found sense. Alongside this sixth sense he also grasped the gift of harnessing static electricity and molding it to his will. Zeke made it a point to become a marksman with his electrical outbursts, but these tended to wear him out a great deal so he made it a point to use this part of his gift for emergencies, like in his fight with Bloodletter.

When he had turned 20 his abilities grew even further; Zeke’s will could impact the weather around him, though only when it came to stormy weather. He could bend the weather to his thoughts and create small storms of rain, hail or snow with a little bit of lightning here and there, but this too wore him out. It took a great deal of concentration, though sometimes he seemed to be much more proficient at it when he was angry. Since discovering this Zeke has made the nightly forecast very foggy, making it easier for him to move around the city unseen, though it wasn’t always easy to control. This ability came rather as a surprise to him when he had lost a friend of his to the Nullifiers and the weather around him, specifically the twenty feet around him, became drastically violent with snow and thunder. His moods sometimes made the sky a little darker than usual, even for Alaska.

Eventually there started to be whispers about Zeke being a Paragon, which he tried his best to dismantle quickly. Paragons were Supers that stood out, even among other super powered beings. A regular Super might be able to control fire but they can’t summon it, or maybe they can but the cold will bother them. A regular Super might have incredible strength but lack the bone density to actually be able to pick up a car without their skeletal structure collapsing; so yes they might be strong but their body still has normal limitations.

Paragons were different, they surpassed even the abnormal. A Paragon pyro-kinetic would be completely unmoved by extreme heat or cold; their bodies constantly hot to the touch and capable of summoning and controlling any kind of flame even to the point of being able to create heat lightning. There was one Paragon who named herself Lady Lightspeed back before the time of nullifiers. Lady Lightspeed had been able to zip from one side of the city to the other in the blink of an eye but her body was unaffected by the intense friction such speed would cause. Not only that but her metabolism was wickedly fast and could heal any wound ten times faster than any Enn or even most Supers.

Nowadays however, being a Paragon meant you were likely to call attention to yourself. Such a thing could bring Nullifiers where they’re not wanted and get a lot of Supers taken away. Since 2008 all Supers had to be registered with the federal government and have GPS microchips implanted so that they could be tracked . Of course most Supers went underground, adamantly avoiding such a thing as long as they could. Any Super who refused, dealt with Nullifiers who scrambled their brains and took them away. There had even been rumors that they were actively hunting Supers and abducting them. Zeke found these things to be conspiracy theories at best and paid them no heed. He wasn’t interested in politics, government, the system or anything like it. He stayed out of sight during the day and did what he wanted at night.

“I’m still not happy with your... choice of aesthetic.” The Empath said frowning at Zeke when he finally opened his eyes. Zeke cocked one, crimson eyebrow at him and gave a tilt of his head to show confusion. The Empath gestured his left hand towards Zeke’s bare chest and then to the mohawk. “The tribal tattoos, the mohawk. Why?”

Zeke’s entire upper torso was one large canvas for a bloody-red tribal design that traveled from his pelvis, up to his shoulders, down his back, over his triceps and down to his forearms. He chose red because it complimented his chilly blue skin tone in some bizarre fashion, and it was the same shade as his hair. The mohawk had just been something he did for the first fight he had won. A symbol that he was a warrior, a fighter and a little bit of a rebel. Since then the look had stuck and he wore it like a badge because otherwise what was the point? Zeke laughed a little and shook his head.

“It’s very theatrical. There’s not much of that anymore, since the days of capes and cowls died out...” Zeke said, bowing his head and remembering the books he’d read about Supers dressing as comic-bookish heroes and saving the day. Some fought in wars and fought for things like freedom and justice; some stayed in their city and battled cheesy-named supervillains intent on overthrowing the world or some other weird thing. As corny as it all sounded, it was History to Zeke and he’d grown up wishing he’d been born a few decades earlier so he could’ve been like one of those Supers. Now the History books in schools taught that these Supers did it for personal glory, for camera spotlights and talk shows. They only dressed up as heroes so they could get money and attention. But Zeke had read the old books, the ones not doctored to tell things from the perspective of jealousy and hatred. He admired their theatricality. That was the other reason he kept his image. It may not have been a traditional cape and cowl look like in the 60s and 70s, but it was his look; his image, his cover art, so to speak.

“Theatrics get people caught.” The Empath warned, furrowing his brow. While the tone was harsh and parental, Zeke knew the Empath simply didn’t want to see more people injured. Zeke always felt like the ability to heal might be more of a curse than a gift. Sure you can cure cancer and liver disease, but you also end up healing domestic bruises, smoky lungs, alcohol damaged livers and the worst kind of injuries imaginable. Some might think it would desensitize you to pain and gruesome imagery, but Zeke knew it had actually made the Empath more sensitive to seeing the wounds on people he cared for. He was only concerned for Zeke’s wellbeing.

“I’ll be alright. ’Sides, anything ever happens to me and Kira will raise hell trying to find me just so she can kick MY ass for getting caught.” Zeke said through a toothy grin and they both laughed. Once the Empath was done, Zeke threw on his shirt once more and joined the crowd around him.

The night went on and Zeke continued to mingle with the crowd, had a drink, laughed, played pool. Not long after his second drink midnight struck and he decided it was time for him to head home. Granted he was a night owl and usually slept during the day, but he still wanted to be home. He’d rather spend most of his time with Kira watching Netflix or playing weird fire vs. ice games they’d make up in the middle of the night than be anywhere else. So Zeke collected his victor’s pay from the owner of Cowls and took his leave. The sound of the music quickly died out as he made his way through the abandoned subway tunnels to get back to the surface of Glacier City. Once he made it to the top he made sure he was clear before summoning a blanket of fog to mask his movement.

Using his powers was always a difficult thing to explain to others. Everyone’s worked differently. Some had to concentrate very hard, for some it was exactly the same as operating a muscle (those were usually the physically gifted Supers) but for Zeke it felt more like having a third arm. He naturally flexed the bones and muscles of this imaginary arm and reached out with his gifts. For some things he had to focus on where this arm went and what it did, for others, like the fog, it was as simple as reaching for a cup on the table. It simply felt like using another part of his body. Once the fog coated his surroundings Zeke’s feet left the ground. Static electricity hummed gently underneath him creating a magnetic field beneath his body that allowed him to fly, another way he had discovered to use his abilities unconventionally. Zeke always made sure not to go too high into the air and only kept himself at a two or three story level when he moved through the pathways and roads of Glacier City. Luckily not much happened on Tuesday nights so he was practically alone. He could smell the Alaskan ocean from anywhere in the city, something he’d always loved.

“Grab ’er, now!” A voice bellowed from a nearby back surface street.

“Null her again!” Another voice commanded and Zeke heard the unmistakable sonic echo of a nullifier weapon discharge, followed quickly by the agonized groans of someone who could no longer use their gift.

Losing a power was like losing an arm. Your body knows there was once something there; it knows how to move the arm but when you try nothing responds, because the arm is gone. It’d be like a musician waking up one morning and being unable to pick up his instrument, or a singer suddenly forgetting how to sing. An almost impossible thing to perceive, and yet tremendously miserable to those who experience it. Zeke gave himself no time to think and forced the energy around him to guide him quickly to the sound of the offense. Behind a pawn shop he found two officers armed with nullifiers apprehending a young woman who was groaning and trying to grab her head. Her eyes were rolling back into her skull and Zeke could almost feel the pain she was experience.

“Let her go!” He bellowed. The fog disappeared and the two officials turned around to see him. Zeke’s eyes glowed and crackled with fury as he stared the two Nullifiers down, ready to discharge lightning if they even raised their weapons at him.

“Shit, another one.” The officer on the right said. He was white with a thick, Tom Selleck style mustache and built like a man who knew his way around a weight room. The other man was younger, Hispanic by what Zeke could tell; clean cut and very well groomed.

“Let her go and you can both walk away from this...” Zeke said, trying to make his voice sound confident. He was confident he could easily take both of them, but if even one got off a shot with a nullifier, he was done for and there was nothing he would be able to do about it. As such he very much hoped these two would not count on that and decide that he was impressive enough to save their own butts.

“Or, we bag two freaks instead of one!” The younger officer yelled and dropped the girl on the ground; the girl started to spasm and thrashed about on the ground, likely another grisly side effect of having your brain scrambled. Zeke’s right hand cracked and hissed with static power, his eyes glowed more intensely, his left hand steamed and started to develop a thick layer of ice around it.

“Ooh this one’s strong, it’s gonna be a good night for us Henderson.” The older officer said followed by an extremely rude and uncourteous spit on the ground.

“Reach for the rifle and you’re both going to be seriously hurt.” Zeke’s voice almost cracked and he thanked God it didn’t. He needed confidence right now, he needed to know he was on top and he needed them to think twice about their movements.

Zeke was afraid, without any shred of doubt he was afraid. In the silence he started to think about whether or not he’d ever see Kira or Mary or his Aunt again, but urgently pushed away those thoughts knowing they would just cripple him.

The silence dragged on for a minute. The officers moved only their eyes looking from one another then back to Zeke. Then the young officer raised his rifle and took aim but even with his training he could never be as fast as lightning. Zeke’s right hand twitched open and a wide, bright yellow arc of lightning cracked with a roar and tore down the alley with a static howl of power. The bolt struck the young officer named Henderson in his face and ripped into his body, frying every nerve in his system. The young man let out a choked scream that was swiftly cut off by the sound of a sonic blast that sounded like a banshee’s howl. Zeke froze, his eyes widened in horror, he was too slow. He didn’t hit the older officer in time and sure enough the Tom Selleck wannabe had his rifle raised and discharged a wave of sonic energy that would scramble Zeke’s brain and turn him into a vegetable on the ground floor.

Nothing happened.

Zeke remained in the air; he still felt the power in his body. He felt no different, except for the confusion that wracked his brain. Selleck discharged another shot once he’d gotten over the initial awe of his weapon not working, and still nothing changed. The weapon shrieked a third time but Zeke remained floating above the ground, static humming beneath his feet right hand charged with fatal amperage and his left hand misting with icy power. Zeke took a moment and looked over himself, examining his hands, arms, torso, and legs. Nothing changed. Nothing happened. When his attention returned to Selleck he lifted his left hand dramatically and grabbed a phantom in the air. His will summoned a brick of ice that trapped the officer by his legs and slithered up his body to his neck. He made sure the trap gave Selleck’s chest enough room to rise and fall so he could breathe, but he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Zeke’s body floated forward, he decided to be even more theatrical and pretend like he knew that the nullifier would have no effect on him. Fear was a powerful weapon after all. To further make his point he faked a dreadful cackle directed at the officer as he hovered closer and then planted his feet on the ground next to the small glacier he’d created to immobilize Selleck. The officer’s eye widened in horror; his breathing became erratic and panicked.

“Shh shh shh,” Zeke whispered putting a finger to his cold lips and smiling like a jackal. “I’m not going to hurt you. That is as long as you’re useful.” For emphasis Zeke focused his will into the ice and tightened it. Pain wreaked havoc on the cop who cried out as the ice crushed his chest and then quickly shrunk back to allow him breathing room again. “What did this woman do to justify this?”

“Fuck you.” Selleck spat. Zeke responded by touching the cop’s forehead with his charged right hand, sending a quick, low amperage jolt through his nervous system. The result was a twitching Tom Selleck wannabe encased in ice that almost made Zeke laugh.

“Now, tell me again?” Zeke said with the same Jackal grin consistent with someone who likes to play with their food.

“She didn’t do anything okay! We were just rounding up Supers on our route.”

“What the hell do you mean, rounding up Supers?” Zeke pressed, the smile disappearing from his face.

“Look it’s just what we’re paid to do, okay?” The officer continued to squirm and struggle against the ice that trapped him

“You’re paid to round up innocent people, rip apart their minds and abduct them?” Zeke’s patience suddenly wore thin. He didn’t like the direction this was going and suddenly started to wonder how much accuracy those conspiracy theories might actually have to them.

“We round’em up, drop’em off at Drake Tower and go home, okay? That’s it.” The officer said. Zeke was surprised at how easily he’d squealed. Perhaps the Nullifier malfunction had scared him more than Zeke had initially thought. Either that or the cop was just an incredible wuss and liked to act a tough guy.

“You drop off the Supers you’ve Null’d at Draco Industries? Why in the hell would you being doing that?”

“I don’t fucking know, freak. I do what I’m told, I get my paycheck I go home. Just... Fuck man, let me go. Don’t kill me, please.” A tear fell from the cop’s eye and Zeke felt his own eyes roll with irritation.

Zeke had expected this guy to have some kind of a spine after the crap he’d talked. On top of that he was a Nullifier Officer; the entire Super world was petrified of these men and women because of the weapons they used and the “allowable” brutality they were rumored to be sanctioned with when it came to dealing with Supers.

“Oh for God’s sake, have some dignity. If you wet yourself in there it’s just going to freeze on your leg.” On that note Zeke almost hoped he would wet himself. For once a Super was in a position of power over a Nullifier and it felt so damn good to not be afraid of this guy. “Who’s your chief? What’s his name?” He said, continuing his interrogation.

“Chief Slayt, she runs my precinct. You can have the girl, freak just lemme go!” Zeke responded again with a tap to the officer’s forehead and a quick jolt of taser-level electricity.

“Call me a freak again and the next one’s going to have permanent side-effects. That or I’ll just freeze your nose hairs solid, that’ll probably be more irritating for you.” Zeke looked down at the girl they were apprehending; she seemed to be unconscious but was no longer thrashing on the floor. “I want you to send a message for me, understand?” The cop nodded vigorously. “Tell your commissioner, your chief, your partner...” Zeke paused, looked down at the young man he’d electrocuted earlier and was glad to see his chest still rising and falling with air, “and everyone you meet that they can’t hide anymore. I want you to tell them there’s a Super who can’t be hurt by your weapons. I want you to spread this like wildfire so the whole damn city knows. Understand?” Again, Selleck affirmed with a rigorous nod and a panicked stare. The ice melted away from the cop’s body. Selleck wasted no time in bolting for his vehicle and speeding off.

Zeke knelt down by the girl and pushed her onto her back and tried to shake her gently but she wouldn’t wake up. So he did the only thing he thought might work in order to wake up someone unconscious. He made his hands really cold and pressed them against her forehead and cheek.

It worked like a charm.

The girl’s eyes burst open and she screamed and lashed out at Zeke. Apparently her gift was incredible strength because Zeke flew into the wall of the alley with a heavy thud against the bricks. Before he could regain his composure, or ask her to stop, her hand was on his throat lifting him above the ground. The girl was blinking rapidly, trying hard to regain her vision most likely. She was blonde, young, green eyes and dressed in a blue blouse enhanced by a black pencil skirt. Very attractive and well-muscled, but that part went without saying.

“Wai-hngg, h’lped you.” Zeke choked out as her hand closed around his throat. He didn’t want to electrocute her but he was starting to run out of options, and oxygen. Just before he was about to decide on self-defense she loosened her grip and dropped him.

“Oh my- shit I’m so sorry, I thought... I couldn’t see that well... I didn’t... Are you okay?” Her voice was an alto’s range, serene and not too high. It was actually a very pleasant voice. Zeke choked and coughed for another minute and pounded on his chest to help his lungs, though it didn’t really work that well.

“Yeah, fine. I’ll be okay, what about you? Did they hurt you?” He asked, letting his own thoughts of self-well-being drift away.

“I think so... my strength is back... How did you...?” Her head tilted in confusion as she scanned the alley and then gasped at the sight of the young Nullifier Zeke had electrocuted earlier. “Is he...”

“No, just unconscious.” Zeke said, cutting her off so she wouldn’t have to say the word “dead.” Zeke didn’t like the thought of killing someone, even a corrupt police official torturing and abducting a fellow Super.

He thought better of himself.

“Do you know why there were trying to grab you?” Zeke asked, gently rubbing his neck.

“They said something about Drake Tower, that’s all I remember... I don’t think we’ve met...” She said, brushing her hair out of her eyes with a flirty little smile.

“Uh... Zeke. So Drake Tower, huh?” Zeke rubbed the back of his neck and looked around him. For a moment, he tried to piece together any reason police officials would take abducted Supers to Draco Industries. “Can you make it to your home alright?”

“I think I’ll be okay yes... Do you always save girls in the middle of the night?” She asked as he started to float away.

“Only when my girlfriend lets me out of the closet.” Zeke retorted with a comical smile. He turned his attention skyward and once again summoned a fog to shroud his flight. A sense of urgency now bit into him as well as the kind of curiosity that tends to get people killed. Zeke rushed home and was glad to find the window to their apartment still open.

Given his skin color, the crimson red mohawk and body art he tended to stand out and, while it wasn’t illegal for a Super to be walking around, he didn’t like to call attention to himself. The irony of such a thing was not lost on him with his appearance, but he was unregistered and did not have the GPS tracker under his skin that Supers were required by law to have. Therefor staying out of sight and going in and out of his home through the window was the best option.

Zeke floated into his living room and let the fog fade away; his eyes returned to normal and the power drained from him. Before he could call out to her Kira appeared from around the corner and dove into him. Zeke wrapped her in his arms and squeezed her tightly, running his left hand through her fiery red hair which lit up like embers when she used her powers, or got really emotional.

Her hair always smelled like smoked hickory for some reason. A smell he loved and was anxious to have in his nostrils any moment he was gone from her presence. They kept the embrace silently and Zeke found new appreciation for the moment given that not even a half an hour ago he was facing down the barrel of a Nullifier.

“I’m so glad you’re home.” She whispered into his ear. He could feel her body heat swell against him, another thing he liked. The only time he ever felt heat was with her and he couldn’t get enough of it. “How’d the fight go?” She asked, pulling away from him briefly and looking up into his pale yellow eyes with her jade-forest greens.

“Won, but barely. Jack put up a good fight.” Zeke said with a smile, his arms falling to her waist keeping his fingers interlocked so that he could continue holding her. She rewarded him with a kiss as wet as the ocean.

“Good, ’cause I made your winning food!” She said with a sly wink and then slipped out of his hold and swayed into the kitchen. Zeke followed her quickly and was quickly met with the smell of fresh bacon, eggs, pancakes and more bacon. After every fight he always craved breakfast food and Kira was an amazing cook. The two sat down and started to eat but Zeke found his appetite strangely lacking. He stared with an empty expression at his half eaten plate.

“What’s wrong?” She asked while reaching her hand across the table and setting it on top of his. Her thumb rubbed against his palm as she stared into his eyes. “You never pause during a meal, what happened tonight?” Her tone dropped any playfulness it might have had earlier and became suddenly inquisitive. If nothing else, Zeke could admit that Kira knew him like she knew fire, maybe even more and she could read him better than hippies could complain about trees.

“Well... Something happened on my way home...” He paused, looked away, then back to her and stared into her eyes for a moment. When the moment passed he told her everything that had happened with the Nullifier patrol and the girl. Zeke left nothing out, knowing that to do so would be detrimental to the entire situation.

Zeke had learned several years ago that he couldn’t lie worth a damn to Kira and she also somehow knew whenever he was withholding something. It made keeping any kind of secret impossible. Despite his concerns her only outburst came when he told her the nullifiers had no effect on him.

“So this Null shot you... With a nullifier...” Her tone was dry, monotone, and robotic. It disturbed Zeke a little bit.

“Three times. Nothin.” Zeke flailed his arms over his head and then crossed them, still staring into her eyes.

“And you’re sure you still have your powers?” Her eyes wandered over him, inspecting him for any damages, scars, bruises or any other indication he’d been injured. Zeke responded by placing his hand on the table and drew out his will beneath his hand. When he lifted his arm a small rose made of ice sat on the table sending cold mist across the surface of the tablecloth.

“I’m positive.” He said with a sigh and shook his head. Admittedly he was as perplexed as she seemed to be. He couldn’t think of any reason why the sonic waves hadn’t affected him and Kira seemed to be having the same amount of luck with the subject.

“...You’re going to tell Jon aren’t you?” She said with a hiss.

“Well... I mean he’s been trying to get me to-” Zeke was swiftly cut off with a wave of his pyro-girlfriend’s hand.

“Go out with him and fight crime? Raid warehouses? Gallivant through the city like a vigilante? You already do enough of that when there’s a building on fire or some other catastrophe and now you want to take on the Nulls?” She prattled on, each word seething through her teeth like a hex upon the man.

“You know I’ve been thinking about it, this might be a good reason to.” Zeke said and then quickly held up his hand to shush her before she could start yelling again. “You did also hear the part about the cop admitting he was tasked with rounding up Supers and dropping them off at Drake Tower?” She had no response to that, something that genuinely put Zeke in a brief state of awe when her eyes dropped down to her plate. “Something bad is happening, and for some reason I’m not affected by the nulls. That means I can help. I have no reason not to.”

“You have every reason not to!” She howled and stood abruptly. “What if you get hurt? Or captured?!” Her hair came to life and flared like embers and Zeke smelled smoked hickory, the scent flooded his nostrils and overpowered even the bacon. A few tears fell down her cheeks but quickly turned to hot steam from the heat of her skin. “What if I never hear from you, Zeke? What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“I know...”

“Do you?”

“Yeah I actually do know that Kira. It’s the only reason I haven’t gone out to help Jon with his ‘missions’” he emphasized with finger quotes. “Because all I can think of is not coming back and never seeing you again. But they can’t hurt me. Kira,” Zeke stood and walked around the table. Kneeling next to her chair he grabbed her hands and pulled her back down into her chair, “Kira they can’t hurt me. Not with a Null at least. If more Supers are getting rounded up and taken to Drake Tower instead of to the slammer I feel like I kinda have an obligation to figure out why.”

Kira’s hair died down and the smell of bacon once again filled the room. A few more tears fell from her eyes and she buried her face into Zeke’s neck.

“If something happens to you I don’t know what I’d do, Z...” She whimpered. A hot headed, strong, ball-busting woman Kira might be, but she loved Zeke. She loved him more than anything in the world and even the thought of living a life without him made her want to set herself on fire and burn away to ash. They needed each other.

“I know... I could never go on without you, you know that, Kira.” He said holding her tightly again. “Tomorrow night I’m going to go see Jon though. He needs to know about this.” She responded only by nodding into his shoulder and soon the tears were gone and she was simply leaning against him enjoying being held.

“If you get killed, I’m gonna kick your ass...” Was the last thing she said.

“And I would let you.” Zeke said with a smile before carrying her off to bed.

Intermission

“We go live now to a press conference held by the Chief of Police, Janice Slayt.” The blond woman says, flashing her typical smile until the video feed switched.

“Thank you all for coming,” says Chief Slayt who stands at a podium surrounded by fellow police and Nullifier officers facing down an army of journalists. “Last night at approximately 2:37 A.M. two officers were in the middle of apprehending a dangerous member of the Super community when they came under attack by another Super. Officers attempted to dismantle the situation peacefully and were met with extreme hostility.” The Chief reads from her paper with the confidence of a politician. Her auburn hair is tied tightly into a bun behind her head and every piece of her uniform is pleated and ironed to perfection. “Both officers have received severe electric burns and have been given leave to rest and recover. This conference is in reaction to the attack to let the people know we will not stop until this Super is found and brought into captivity. He is described as having blue skin, red hair and multiple red tattoos covering his body. If anyone has any information regarding this assailant, please contact our anonymous hotline. Thank you.”

Chief Slayt moves off the podium and is suddenly flooded with loud questions bombarding the microphones, but she stays silent as she marches to her car and gets in to drive away.

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