Mega Man 1. Chapter 1

_ A boy of about ten or eleven crept down the stairs to the first floor, peeking carefully through the railing. He'd been awoken by sirens, far too close for comfort, and now there were voices drifting up to his room. So he'd pulled on some shorts-he would be too embarrassed coming down in the t-shirt and underwear he'd worn to bed-and gone for a look._

_ There was a light in the living room. His father's voice was coming from in there, as was a somewhat deeper voice. He could see a figure in dark blue who must have been a cop. Over the back of the couch he could see the tops of two heads, one brown haired and one blond; those had to be his parents. As it became clear that he hadn't been noticed yet, he crept closer until he could actually make out the voices._

_ "Dr. Wright, can you think of anyone who might have taken these samples?" asked the cop. "Anyone they might be of value to?"_

_ "They might be of value to the entire human race," replied the gruff voice of the boy's father. "But I suppose it would help to narrow it down to people who know about my research."_

_ "It was most likely Wai Li," the boy's mother said firmly._

_ "Melody," his father said, "Li's not a thief."_

_ "He knows where you keep the samples, he has access and motive, not to mention a rather shady background."_

_ The cop leaned back slightly, tapping his foot. "And this mister Li is...?"_

_ "Dr. Wai," his father said, emphasizing the name to correct the officer, "is my research partner. Or, former partner. He quit about a month ago."_

_ "Do you know where we can find him?"_

_ "I can give you his address. I should tell you, though, that he hasn't been answering his phone and his house looked deserted when I went there last week. And if that man doesn't want to be found, he won't be..."_

* * *

><p><em>-Blue Valley, 20XX (Six Years Later)-<em>

The sun was not yet visible over the horizon, but its hazy light was already filtering through the shades and into the room on the second floor. As the dim display of a cell phone mounted in a speaker stand on the dresser shifted from 6:29 to 6:30, the sharp staccato of drumbeats pierced the silence. The boy sprawled across the bed began to stir; the beats woke him up just enough that the blast of guitar that followed wasn't painfully jarring. He rolled off the side of the bed and landed on hands and toes. He did half a dozen pushups to get his blood flowing, then got to his feet, bobbing his head to the music. He didn't care that this song was older than his father, he had never found a better wake up call. The opening guitar riff alone had enough energy to get him through lunchtime.

Picking his clothes off of a chair in the middle of the room, Rick slipped into a comfortable pair of loose jeans and pulled on a t-shirt a few sizes too large for him. The baggy clothes belied his muscular build and above-average height. He picked up his house keys, his wallet, and other things he had put on the seat of the chair and slipped them into his pockets, except for a comb which he pulled through his messy brown hair. He glanced into the mirror to survey the the end result. His hair appeared almost as messy as it had pre-comb , but there were fewer tangles and the bangs were strategically parted to reveal his dark blue eyes. He slipped the comb into his back pocket, then pulled his phone from the speaker dock and turned off the song. He headed downstairs.

As he passed the door to his sister's room, he knocked on it loudly. "Come on, sis," he bellowed, "time to rock and roll!"

Her muffled groan just barely made it through the door. "Rick, that stopped being funny in fourth grade."

"Oh come on, that one's timeless!" Before she could make a rebuttal, he hurried down the stairs. His sister was right of course; when Rick and Laura were six, the nicknames 'Rock' and 'Roll' had seemed incredibly witty, but the novelty had long since worn off. Still, he was her older brother, if only by a few hours. It was his duty to get on her nerves, and that was hard to do when she was fully awake. Her cheerfulness was almost impenetrable, and if you _did _manage to annoy her she hit you with a kitchen utensil. Usually it was a ladle or a spatula, but there had been an incident with their older brother and a frying pan that Rick did not wish to repeat.

He walked into the dining room and immediately had to fight the urge to turn around and walk back out. His father was there, humming cheerfully as he set the table, plates piled high with scrambled eggs and hash browns. He glanced up at Rick and smiled widely, though his gray eyes remained dull and lifeless. "Well hey, good morning!"

Rick mustered a smile in return. "Morning, dad." He nodded at the plates. "Smells good." Which was true; his dad was the best cook in the family. Rick leaned against the wall, trying not to look impatient. When his dad cooked, it meant he wanted to have a 'family meal.' If Rick started without his sister, their dad would get visibly depressed. He might even have to wait for his mom. And in the meantime, he could try to make small talk with his father. What fun.

"So, anything going on at school today?" His dad set down the last of the plates. Rick couldn't help but notice a conspicuously empty area on the table. His father hadn't gone so far as to lay out an extra place setting, but Rick knew if he went into the kitchen there would be just enough food left over for a fifth person.

He wanted to say something about it. Something along the lines of, 'It's not as if he's going to show up,' or, 'It's been three years, when are we going to move on?' But that might lead to an argument. Or worse, to a sad, numb silence. He didn't have the heart for it. So he merely shrugged in response to his father's question and tossed out a question of his own. He didn't really care about the answer, but an awkward conversation was preferable to an awkward silence. The sound of the shower running came from upstairs, and Rick knew it would be at least half an hour before Laura came downstairs.

The father-son talk continued clumsily. Mornings like these were becoming increasingly common. Three years ago, Rick was used to being out of the house before either of his parents were up; occasionally his mother would be up in time to make breakfast, and once in a blue moon his father would stumble into the kitchen for a cup of coffee and a handful of aspirin. Even then, Rick was usually on his way to school before the man was capable of coherent conversation. But now it seemed like almost every day, he came downstairs to his dad making breakfast, jolly as Santa Claus-who, with his bushy beard, rapidly graying hair, and increasingly large belly, the man was starting to resemble.

Finally, Laura came into the dining room, a green ribbon in her mouth as she pulled her blonde hair into a ponytail. Rick managed to not actually let out a sigh of relief, but it was a close thing. His sister was fully awake and perky, and once she was done tying her hair back she managed to occupy their father's attention with lively conversation for the rest of breakfast. Soon they were headed off to school in the battered old car they shared. He dropped Laura off at her school before heading to another pointless day at Blue Valley High.

* * *

><p>By the end of fourth period, Rick had filled half a notebook with doodles, epic battles between stick-figure angels and demons, with the occasional dragon thrown in for good measure. Every few pages an actual note intruded on his art: a reading assignment or something the teacher had repeated three times. He was on his way to lunch when the sounds of a scuffle echoed down the hall, accompanied by laughter. <em>Sounds like my kind of party... <em>Like any concerned citizen, he hurried towards the source of the disturbance to gawk.

He soon discovered that the 'fight' consisted of two boys trying to deposit a third face-first in a trashcan while they attempted a witty commentary. 'You like it, don't you?' seemed to be about the best they had come up with. Some of the kids on their way to or from the lunchroom stopped to chortle, or hurried by hoping not to be noticed. Most of them didn't pay any attention at all. _Unbelievable. You're __all just going to ignore this? Is anyone even going for help? _He realized his fists were clenched tightly, and through great force of will he managed to relax them. He couldn't get worked up, he had to handle this situation calmly.

He took a deep breath to steady himself, then let it out in a theatrical sigh as he leaned against the lockers. "Really?" His voice carried fairly well through the halls, and caught the attention of the trio wrestling around the trash can. "We're doing this? This _is _the twenty-first century. You could _try _not to act like reject villains from a teen movie."

One of the boys told him to fuck off and got back to the task of dragging his victim off the ground. The other turned to Rick, rolling his eyes. "Week before homecoming is freshman hunting season. It's tradition. Seniors catch freshmen and stuff 'em in trashcans."

Rick tilted his head to one side. "...and that takes two of you? Grow a pair! You're bigger than him. If you're gonna be a tool, could you at least not be a bitch about it?" He tried to focus on his sympathy for the poor freshman, and his outrage at their actions. But those more noble intentions were giving way to a growing eagerness that Rick wasn't entirely comfortable with.

The more talkative of the seniors let go of the freshman entirely to walk towards Rick, giving him a shove. "You looking for a fight?"

"I was, actually. That might have been exciting. But I found this whole mess instead." He waved a hand at the two still by the trash can. "It's very disappointing."  
>He probably could have avoided the fist that caught him across the jaw. Instead he rolled with it, going limp and letting it push him to the ground. He hopped back onto his feet, rubbing at his cheek. The punch had stung a bit, but not done any real damage. Of its own accord, Rick's mouth twisted into a vicious grin. "Just remember when this is over... you started this."<p>

* * *

><p>It was about three thirty when Rick pulled into the parking lot of Wellington Prep. He rolled down the window and leaned back, watching students walk by in their dull red uniforms. He didn't miss the uniforms. In fact he didn't miss much about Wellington. It was hands down a better education than he was getting at the public school he now attended, but for Rick that just meant harder homework.<p>

Eventually he caught sight of Laura in the crowd. Despite her wearing the same uniform as a horde of other students, Rick never had any trouble finding his sister. He waved to get her attention; she exchanged a few words with her friends then broke off from the group. "You had another fight?" she asked as she buckled her seat belt.

Rick put on his best wide-eyed innocent face. "Why do you say that?"

She gave him a sideways glance and smirked a little. "Because you're smiling."

He put up his hands. "I can smile for other reasons!"

Laura ignored his comment. "Well, I hope you didn't get caught, otherwise mom and dad are gonna be pissed."  
>He shrugged. "It's not like I started it."<p>

"Oh yeah, haven't heard that one before." She turned to him with a mocking smile. "So explain to me how do you get into so many fights without starting any of them?"

He melodramatically clenched his fist before his face, making a caricature of a somber expression. "Those who seek justice are constantly under attack."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Rick, you're a thug."

"A thug for _justice!_" Rick revved the engine and accelerated out of the parking lot.

He hurried as much as he dared. The road wasn't crowded yet, but the evening rush was approaching and he wanted to get home before that. So perhaps he didn't pay as much attention to his left and right as he should have as he approached the intersection, but the cross traffic had stop signs and it wasn't a very busy intersection anyway. He didn't notice the motorcycle surging from the left until it was almost too late. His tires screeched as he slammed his brakes, and the motorcycle turned sharply, dumping its rider on the ground and sliding along the asphalt with an unpleasant scraping noise.

Rick turned off the car and burst out of the door, heading for the fallen rider. Laura practically crawled out the window. "Are you alright?" she called.

"Hey, are you okay?" Rick offered a hand to the motorcycle rider. The biker their head up to look at him. Or so he thought, but it was hard to tell, since he couldn't see through their helmet's glossy black visor. It was probably the most ridiculous motorcycle helmet he'd ever seen, with large golden fins protruding from either side. It must have been custom made, because no one would mass produce such a thing.

Ignoring Rick's hand-rather pointedly, Rick thought-the biker got to their feet and began dusting himself off. Somewhere along the way they found a large hole in their sleeve and stared at it.

"Oh, wow, sorry about that. It's a pretty nice jacket, but, y'know, as long as you're okay, it's... um." The biker stared up at him. Between the blank visor and the silent treatment, Rick's patience was starting to wear thin. "You should be more careful. You're supposed to stop at stop signs, you know?"

He only noticed the shift in the biker's stance as their fist was connecting with his chest. He staggered back as searing pain shot through his body. That had definitely cracked his collarbone. _This guy's quick... _He hoped the biker wasn't paying too much attention to his face. It would be hard to explain why his dark blue eyes had suddenly changed bright green-exactly the same shade as Laura's. He stretched a little bit, relaxing as the pain in his chest faded, then plunged back into the fight.

It was much better than pummeling the idiots at school. The biker was on his level, trading blow for blow, never backing down, never slowing down. They were pushing him to his limits, and he loved it-the rush of adrenaline, the furious beat of his heart pounding in his ears, the sweat plastering his shirt to his back, the sense of danger and the creeping fear that went with it, it was all so invigorating, so thrilling. It didn't even bother him that he was losing.

And Rick was most definitely losing. While it was hard to tell with the biker's massive helmet and loose jacket, Rick was sure he had an advantage of six inches and thirty pounds over the biker, bare minimum. He was pretty sure he had the advantage in strength too, though after the biker caught hold of his collar and threw him one-handed, he was less confident about that. Not that it mattered, since Rick could scarcely land a hit. When he did, it sent the biker reeling, but they were always back on him in a flash, and he didn't feel like he was wearing them down. Rick, on the other hand, was starting to feel tired, and he was practically cheating.

After a while he noticed sirens in the distance, and realized that this fight was drawing quite a crowd. "Ah, shit." His frequent brawls got him in trouble with the school all the time, but so far never with the cops. And he didn't feel like changing that today. Besides, he should have been home by now. _Laura _should have been home by now. He glanced towards the car to see if she was still there. That moment of distraction was all the biker needed; in an instant he was flat on his back. Then the biker glanced around, possibly noticing the sirens for the first time himself. They looked down at Rick, then turned and headed over to their bike.

"Rick! Are you okay?" Laura helped Rick to his feet as the biker rode off.

"I'm fine, sis." He exhaled as the his eyes faded from green back to their natural blue. "Thanks for the loan."

"That whole time, you were copying me?" She shook her head. "Are you gonna tell dad? He'll want to run some kind of test, I'll bet."

"I guess I'll tell him. Better make sure my genes aren't unraveling or anything. But for now, let's get out of here, I don't want to deal with the cops."

Laura bit her lip, and he knew she was thinking about arguing. Rick wasn't entirely sure, but it was probably illegal to run now that the cops were on their way. Hopefully Laura wouldn't press the matter. Finally she nodded. "Let's go home."


	2. Chapter 2

"So? What's the verdict?"

"Hmm..." Rick's father stared intently at a computer monitor, where complex patterns flashed across the screen at high speed. Apparently it represented his entire DNA sequence; Rick hadn't done especially well in freshman biology, but he knew that was a ridiculous amount of information, even compressed and simplified as it was. Eventually his father sighed and leaned back, rubbing his eyes. "Well, it'll still be a few hours before I'm absolutely sure, but everything looks fine so far. Laura's genes are dormant, and there doesn't appear to be any sort of breakdown."

"Cool." Rick was much more comfortable talking with his father in the lab than in the dining room. It was where his father had spent most of his time for the first fifteen years of Rick's life. Rather than resenting the lack of attention, Rick had always admired his father's drive and passion. He'd liked coming down to the lab, even if it meant a needle in his arm, just to watch his father and Dr. Wai chatter excitedly about science that was way over his head. Of course, those days were long gone; these were the days of family breakfasts and father-son bonding.

His father turned away from the computer and leaned forward, staring seriously into Rick's eyes. "Now, let's talk about the circumstances in which you used her abilities..."

"Ah, dad, it wasn't my fault! He started it!"  
>"Yes, that always seems to be the case. Someone else throws the first punch, and you're just defending yourself. It's odd, though, that a faultless boy gets attacked with such frequency."<p>

"Laura can vouch for me this time."

"She can and she has."

Rick pounded the desk next to him. "So what are we even talking about?"

His father sighed and shook his head. "Sometimes I don't know. I really don't know..."

* * *

><p>By the time the weekend rolled around, Rick had had another fight at school and two more with his dad. His homework for the weekend shouldn't have been a challenge for a seventh grader, let alone a senior; he hurried through it Friday night so he could have Saturday free. He grabbed a quick breakfast and headed out of the house. He wasn't really thinking about where he was going, but without consulting his brain his feet led him past his school, towards a shady part of town. There was very little violent crime in the city, but if there was any to be found it would be in this neighborhood.<p>

Around midday he found himself outside what appeared to be some kind of club; the music that rattled through the walls of the place must have drawn him. From what he could hear, it was a little harsher than what he liked, but not bad. If he had to guess, he'd say it wasn't a recording. He was kind of surprised that the place was open this early, and even more so that they'd have a live band in the middle of the day. _Probably __some __garage __band __that __plays __for __free, __just __to __get __an __audience. _Still, they were pretty good.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and tapped his foot to the beat. He wouldn't be allowed to stand here for long, but he wanted to relax for as long as they'd let him. He glanced over the place as if he was considering going in, though he probably couldn't pass for twenty-one even if he had a fake ID. A busted neon light proclaimed the building 'The Iron Hammered'. A dumb joke, to be sure, but a step above what passed for wit at his school...

He saw the motorcycle out of the corner of his eye, but it drew his attention. Not just because it was a beautiful bike, which it was, but because it was familiar. A sleek black number, with gold-colored trim, gorgeous if not for the awful scratches all across the left side. _There's __no __way..._After a moment's thought, he headed for the door of the bar.

"I.D.," rumbled the man at the door.

"Actually, I just wanted to ask you a question-"

"Go home, kid, you don't get in without an I.D."

"No, it's about the owner of that bike over there." He pointed to it. "The black and gold one? Left side all fucked up?"

The bouncer didn't look. "I could care less about the bike. Get out of here."

"Did you see the driver?"

"I see a lot of people."

"Oh god, look, did someone with a ridiculous motorcycle helmet come in here? Great big golden fins on the side?" Rick put his hands to his head to mimic the fins.

The man rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Comes here all the time. Would you get out of here now?"

"I'm thinking no." Rick slipped around him into the club. As expected at this time of day, there weren't more than half a dozen patrons. Most of them, he knew at a glance, weren't the biker he was looking for; their builds were all wrong. For starters, most of them were bigger than him. He glanced at the band. Maybe one of them was the regular he was looking for, and had gotten in good enough with the owner to get a chance to play. The band looked about as Rick would expect from their music-mostly black clothes, an abundance of piercing and tattoos, and with the exception of the drummer they all had hair dyed in strange colors. The singer was way too tall and lanky, and there were a couple of girls on bass and drums. The guitarist might have been about the right size, though Rick would have to get closer to be sure.

He lost his train of thought when the bouncer grabbed him from behind, dragging him towards the door. "Get outta here, ya little punk."

"Hey, come on, I just need to talk to someone!" Rick squirmed for a moment, but made little headway against the bouncer, who had at least a foot and probably a hundred pounds of muscle on him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as Laura's abilities took hold. Then he grabbed the bouncer's arm and, planting his feet on the ground, lifted the man over his shoulder. Rather than throwing him, he tilted his shoulder and let the man roll to the ground as gently as he could. Of course, even that would leave the bouncer bruised and sore for days, but he wouldn't have to go to a hospital or anything. "Alright? I just need to talk to-"

"Oooooooi!" The bellow from the stage caught his attention, and he looked up. The bass player had apparently pushed the lead singer off the stage and grabbed his microphone. "I take one day off, and this is what happens? It's the middle of the day, how hard is it to watch the fucking door? All you gotta do is block it with your fat ass!" The fallen bouncer managed to stammer and apology; the bass player rolled her eyes and glared at Rick. "And you! What the hell do you think you're doing? No, never mind, I don't care."

"Listen, I'm just looking for a guy who-"

"I _just _told you I don't care. Way I see it you have a couple of options." She held up one finger. "You sit down, buy a drink, and listen to the music." Rick tried to interject that he was too young to drink, but he was beginning to suspect that they didn't really care around here. After all, the girl lecturing him couldn't have been any older than he was, but she was allowed in the club, and he was pretty sure the glasses laying on stools around the stage contained more than water.

Regardless, the bass player ignored him and continued, holding up a second finger. "You get the fuck out and, since I'm feeling pretty generous, we forget this ever happened. Or we go with the third option." Rather than lifting a finger, she lifted her bass above her head. "I break this thing over your head, go through your pockets for anything valuable, and if that doesn't cover the cost of the bass I start selling your organs. Okay? Okay."

Rick was torn between annoyance and amusement. He wasn't sure how seriously she meant those threats, but the girl couldn't have been more than five feet tall. Sure, she looked in pretty good shape, but it was still kind of like a tiny dog barking furiously at him. It was more funny than threatening. "Um, well... I'm eighteen, so-"

A small but hard plastic card hit his face. "Congratulations. You're twenty-two years old and your name is Julie. Now buy a drink or get out!"

* * *

><p>A man stroked his chin thoughtfully as he gazed at a cluster of computer screens, the only source of light in this small room. The one he was paying the most attention to had several photographs of what appeared to be the same house, from varying angles and distances. It seemed a fairly ordinary house, indistinguishable from the neighboring houses visible in some shots. A few of the figures showed a silhouette at the window, but there were no clear images.<p>

His oily, high-pitched voice filled the room. "Is everything ready?"

Just behind the man and a bit to his right stood a woman, probably in her mid twenties. The lights from the monitors reflected off her glasses as she tried to read from a clipboard. "Yes sir. 'Purge' is on location and awaiting your signal. He wanted me to note that only Target Three is currently out, and Target Two doesn't appear to live there at all anymore."

"No matter; the false king is there, and that's all I need. My goal is to get their attention, not to wipe them out."

The woman gave a slight sigh before replying. "Very good sir. Shall I instruct 'Purge' to proceed?"

"Yes. As of this moment, the House of Wai declares war."

* * *

><p>Laura hummed the tune of the gentle pop rock song which played on her headphones, drowning out the sound of the vacuum cleaner in her hand. Periodically she'd mumble the lyrics, whenever she found them particularly moving. When she had finished, she turned the vacuum cleaner off and surveyed her work. She nodded with satisfaction; there was just something about a tidy room, everything clean and in its place, that put a smile on her face. She removed her headphones.<p>

That was when she noticed the scratching sound. It was coming from the large picture window; there appeared to be a large bird there, flapping around the glass. As she walked closer to the window and squinted, she could see that it wasn't a bird at all, but a massive bat. Her brow furrowed; there were only a few species of bats in this area, all of them nocturnal, and none of them that big. Was it someone's pet? It seemed oddly deformed, almost swollen, but she had seen pictures of some really ugly bats, so that might have been natural. Its eyes looked like they were glowing red, but they were probably just reflecting light.

Her musing was interrupted when the bat opened its mouth, and the window shattered. Laura glimpsed a sort of faint red light that seemed to be coming from the bat's mouth. Then she screwed her eyes shut as glass rained down on her, and there was an instant of pressure that almost knocked her off her feet. Then the moment passed, and the bat flew into the room. Periodically it let forth another red light, and something would break.

"Laura? Are you alright?" Her mother's voice came down the hall, soon accompanied by her footsteps.

"Stay out! It's dangerous!" The next blast of light was directed at Laura; vibrations hammered against her, tearing at her skin and clothes. Then they stopped, her wounds closing up almost as fast as they had appeared.

She glanced around for something to hit the bat with, and grabbed a pillow from the couch. It would have to do. As the bat swooped near her, she jumped up and swung the pillow at it. She felt the pillow connect, knocking the bat to the ground. It tried to get back up, shredding the carpet and cracking the floor in the process. In a panic, Laura threw the pillow on it, then began stomping on it through the pillow. She shuddered as she felt something squish.

"Laura?" Her mother stood in the doorway. "What's going on in here?"

"I... I don't know. There was this bat, and it... I don't know what-"

"Are you alright? You're bleeding."

"I... yeah mom. I'm fine. I mean, it... tore up my clothes pretty good, but I'm all healed up." Laura held up her arms to show her mother. "See? Fine." She gave a shaky grin. "Sorry about the mess..."

Her mother hugged her tightly. "As long as you're okay, that's all I care about."

Heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway, and her father came into the room, leaning against the door frame as he caught his breath. "What... what happened? Are you hurt?"

Laura pulled away from her mom. "I was, I'm fine now. There was this bat, it broke in the window and wrecked the place. Now I know that sounds unlikely, but-"

"But I'm no stranger to the highly improbable. And I trust you. Where is this bat now? Did it go back out the window?"

"I... I think I killed it." She looked over at the pillow. "Poor thing. It couldn't have meant any harm, but..."

"But you had to do something. I understand. We can bury it, if it would make you feel-"

The house shook. Laura immediately ran to the shattered window and looked out. There were dozens of animals on the lawn-squirrels, raccoons, turtles, birds-all of them with the same red eyes as the bat. And for some reason, they were all advancing on the house. Laura opened her mouth, then closed it. What could she possibly say in such a ridiculous scenario?

"...fuck." That seemed to cover it.


	3. Chapter 3

Rick sat at the bar, not causing trouble and sipping at a coke. The bartender wasn't keen on serving non-alcoholic drinks and had charged him for a cocktail; this was the most expensive soda Rick had ever had, and he was going to take his sweet time with it. He had barely noticed that the band had stopped playing when someone smacked the back of his head.

"I need my card back." The bass player sat down next to him and held out her hand. Compared to the rest of the band, her look was actually fairly modest. She was wearing a sleeveless shirt and jeans, both black, and fairly practical boots. Her hair was dyed purple, but it was a much more subdued shade than her bandmates' vivid neon mops. And her only tattoos (that Rick could see, anyway) were a pair of purple stripes down her cheeks. Even her colored contacts weren't as bright a red as they could have been.

Rick handed her the I.D. "Y'know, I didn't need that..." She took the card and turned to the bar; the bartender was already setting a drink in front of her. Rick didn't know what it was, but he could smell the fumes from where he was sitting. "Your name's not actually Julie, is it?"

She downed half the glass in one gulp, coughing a bit as she set it down. "Why?"

"I dunno, I wanted to know your name."

"...why?" She finished the glass, then held it out and shook it until the bartender took it back from her.

"Well I've gotta call you something."

"Once again, _why?_I hope to never have to deal with your crap again, and I'm not especially interested in talking to you _now._"

Rick shrugged. "I dunno, I kinda like your band. I mean, I'm not really a huge speed metal fan, and you're not professional quality or anything-"

"How flattering."

"But I end up with a lot of spare time on the weekends, so if you're playing anywhere else I might show up."

"Well, since you're such an adoring fan, I'll be glad to tell you absolutely nothing about when and where we're playing. Prick. And if you ever show up here again, it's not gonna be fuckin' Melvin over there on door duty." She nodded her head at the man who had been watching the door; he was once again standing in the door way. "And if I even catch you hanging around, I'm gonna run you over. Fucking creep."

"Look, I was being a jerk earlier. I was in a bad mood, and I saw... y'know what it's not important right now. Point is, I screwed up your gig, I'm sorry about that, I'm trying to make it up to you. How do you suggest I do that?" His phone rang. "Hang on, that's my dad. Probably wants to know where I am..." He pulled the phone out of his pocket and pressed the 'answer' key-

"Where are you?"

He looked at the bass player and nodded, as if to say 'I told you so'; she ignored him entirely and started on her next drink. "I'm downtown-"

"Are you okay?"

"What?" Rick cringed as he heard something break in the background. "What's going on?"

"There are a number of animals loose in the house. I don't know how they got here, and I don't know if it's just here or a more widespread. Your mother is on the phone with animal control."

"Hang on, I'll be home as soon as I can."

"Rick, if it's safe where you are, for the love of god, stay there. These animals are dangerous."

"Yeah? So am I."

* * *

><p>Laura swung the frying pan, stained with things she didn't want to think about, to ward off the creature advancing on her. It was a monster; there was no other word for it. Just a few minutes ago it had been a raccoon, perhaps with a few unsightly lumps and growths, but unmistakeably a raccoon. But body parts of other animals had sprouted from its flesh, and from each other, until it had swollen to the size of a doberman. It hobbled towards her on mismatched legs, various mouths snapping and snarling at her. In one of the open mouths she thought she saw a familiar green eye growing. She screwed her eyes shut and lifted the frying pan, bringing it down on one of the creature's head with a sickening thud. She kept pounding it until it stopped moving. Her stomach twisted, but she had to keep it together. This was nowhere close to the last of them, and she had to check on her parents.<p>

Her mother was holding a phone in one hand and a lamp in the other. She tried to ward off a large crow while she continued to try and convince animal control of the severity of the situation. Standing beside her, Laura's father tried to push away a turtle with a broom. Rush, their dog, had planted himself between her parents and a bobcat that was yowling back at him. His mouth was bloody, and Laura knew that some of that blood was his. The poor dog had lost a few teeth on the turtle, but he was still intent on defending his humans.

Laura ran at the bobcat, swinging her frying pan as it ran away. Rush gave chase, but she bent down and caught hold of him. "It's okay! It's okay. You can let that one go for now. Good boy." The dog whimpered and gave his tail a half-hearted wag. She looked up at her parents. "Are you guys okay?"

"I wouldn't say that," her father said. "But I'm not injured. Melody, are you hurt?"

Laura's mother shook her head, her attention mostly still on the phone. Laura smacked the crow out of the air, and her mother flashed her a strained smile.

And within seconds, the bird was back in flight, even though Laura was sure she had broken most of its bones. She hit it again, and again it recovered far too quickly. After about half a dozen blows that should have crippled it, it seemed to be having a bit more trouble getting back in the air, and after another ten or twelve it lay twitching on the ground.

"Mom! How long until animal control gets here?"

"They are sending someone, but I get the impression they're not in a big hurry. I don't think they believed me about all this."

Her father put a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Would you believe you, if you were them?"

"Okay." Laura took a deep breath. She wasn't keen on killing any more of these animals than she already had, but her efforts to shoo them out had been fruitless, and if she didn't do something they were going to destroy the entire house. "Then we'll need to-"

Horror washed over her parent's faces as her mother shouted, "Laura!" She spun around in time just as she heard the scream of a hawk. It was bearing down on her, talons forward; as she tried to back away, red light lanced out of its claws and stabbed into her body. She cried out as she fell to the ground, blood spraying from her mouth. Though her vision was starting to dim, she could see the hawk circling around for another pass, probably going after her parents. Rush was barking furiously. She rolled over and struggled to her knees, clinging desperately to consciousness.

A ball of blue light crashed into the hawk, reducing it to a bloody mess on the wall. She turned her head to see Rick standing in the doorway, fist outstretched. She wasn't sure, but she thought he was grinning. "And another one bites the dust."

Filled with relief, the adrenaline that was keeping her from passing out started to lose its hold. She was dimly aware of her own voice, instinctively replying, "That's not funny."

* * *

><p>A shaft of light pierced the dark room as the door opened, just a crack, and the young woman with glasses slipped through. She closed the door behind her and approached the man who was still gazing at his monitors. Now his attention was on a complex display that flashed by at high speed. He gave no sign that he noticed her presence until she had taken her customary place behind him. "How goes the operation?"<p>

"The animals have all been disposed of. However, Target Four has been severely injured."

"Has she? Excellent..." He leaned forward, stroking his wispy mustache. "And those were just the failed experiments. Imagine how my successes would fair."

"Yes sir. Target Three arrived on the scene and disposed of most of the animals. 'Purge' would like to know if he should engage."

"Tempting, very tempting... they have never been so vulnerable. Hmm... what do you think I should do, Legion?"  
>"I would never presume to tell you what to do, sir. However, it seems logical to press this advantage. Target Four is likely to recover within a day, if not within a few hours. And you have expressed concern about Target Three, and the threat he poses to our operations."<p>

"Hmmm... he is by far the most dangerous. His potential is almost without equal. _Almost_. But he has barely tapped into it yet. No, I'll let them all live for now. The House of Wright will know who has done this to them, and they will know despair before I destroy them."

The woman sighed. "Yes sir," she replied sullenly.

The man began to laugh, at first a low chortle, which gradually rose in pitch and volume until it was an ear-rending screech. The woman groaned and pressed her hand against her face.

There was a bang as the door flew open, flooding the room with light. A small silhouette stood in the door frame. "Shut up down there! What are you even talking about? Crazy old man!"

* * *

><p>Rick sat in his father's lab, trying to keep his eyes open. He briefly wondered what time it was; if the sky was any indication, it was nearly dawn. When animal control had finally arrived, they'd insisted on calling an ambulance and taking Laura to a hospital. Rick had stayed with his father.<p>

Just as he was about to fall asleep, his father's voice called him back. "Well, there is a lot of degradation, but even so there's no mistake."

Rick rubbed at his eyes and blinked a few times, standing up and stretching before walking to his father's side. "What is it?"

"These animals have been infused with your DNA."

Suddenly Rick was wide awake. "Mine?"

"Some of them yours, some of them Laura's, some of them..."

"William's?"

"Yes. William's." His father fell silent for a moment, and Rick resisted the urge to shake him.

"How could that happen?"

"The most likely scenario... do you recall, six years ago, that someone broke into my lab, and stole samples?"

"Yeah, I remember. The sirens woke me up, and I came downstairs to find out what was... you said it was Dr. Wai?"

"I said he was the most likely suspect, and these samples further implicate him. Li had an excellent understanding of pure genetics, of what genes are responsible for what traits and why. If I'm being completely honest, he is probably my superior in that area. But in terms of engineering, genetic modification, his methods were shoddy at best. And the process by which your DNA were implanted into these animals not only corrupted the new genes, it corrupted the specimen's as well. All of them were deeply ill, most of them were dying. They must have been in a great deal of pain, which might explain their aggression..."

"So, what, Dr. Wai stole our DNA, put it in animals, and sent them to attack us? That's crazy! He was your friend!"

"Yes. Perhaps the best I ever had. But he had a troubled past, and a great deal of anger. And he took Julia's death so hard..."

Rick frowned a bit. "Julia..."

"His wife? You used to call her Mrs. Wai, although I tried to explain to you that she'd kept her maiden name-"

"No, yeah, I know. It's just, earlier today, or, I guess it was yesterday, I met this... you know what, it's not important. Do you really think Dr. Wai did this?"

His father drew himself up. "Wai Li, as I knew him, was a good man. If he was cynical and mistrustful, it was only because he had seen some of the worst the world had to offer. He cared for those close to him, his friends and his family. I wouldn't have thought him capable of orchestrating this level of violence. But..." His father slumped in his chair a bit. "But that was a long time ago. He's spent the last six years in hiding. I don't know how that stress might have affected him, and I don't know if he's had anyone who could help him. I can't begin to guess at his mental state."

"...so you can't say whether he'll try something like this again."

"I'd like to think that, if Li is behind this, it was done in a fit of rage that he'll regret for the rest of his life. But for all I know, this is only the beginning."


	4. Chapter 4

_ "Dr. Wai? Are you sure this won't hurt?"_

_ "Not at all, Richard. That's what the anesthetic is for."_

_ "Well, okay-"_

_ "Li!" Rick's father grabbed Dr. Wai's wrist. "What are you doing to my son?"_

_ "I'm just taking a marrow sample. I thought multipotent cells might provide an answer-"_

_ With __a __twist__ of __the __wrist,__ Dr.__Wright __forced __Wai's __hand __open, __and __the __small __drill __he __was __holding __clattered__ to __the __ground.__"You __need _my _approval __before __doing_ anything _to _any _of __my__ children."_

_ "You wouldn't have given it," Dr. Wai replied calmly._

_ "You're damned right I wouldn't! Let's set aside, for the moment, that we'd find the exact same DNA in his marrow that we found in every other cell we've checked, potency be damned. He's a child! You can't justify a procedure like this!"_

_ "Must you be so overprotective? It's nothing that wouldn't mend."_

_ "You're grasping at straws, Li. It was a brilliant hypothesis four years ago, but we've already disproved it. Rick is perfectly healthy, perfectly ordinary. We need to try a different approach, not blindly follow a dead end path."_

_ "You're the one who's blind! You're jealous! You can't stand the thought that I might have unraveled the secret that eluded the great Thomas Wright!"_

_ Rick wished desperately that he could leave, but with the anesthetic he could barely move._

_ "...Li, maybe you need to take some time off. I know you've been under a lot of stress lately. Julia's death was a great loss-"_

_ "What__ do __you __know __of __loss?__ What __have __you __ever __lost?__ When __have __you __ever __struggled? __Everything __you __want __simply __falls __into __your __lap! __Awards __and __commendations, __investors __and __grants, __a__ perfect __little __family...__ your __children __are __born __with __the __power __of _gods _and __you _worry _about __their _health_!"_

_ "That's_ enough_, __Li!"_

_ "Yes. I rather think it is. Enough of this, enough of you. I quit."_

* * *

><p>Rick took a deep breath before knocking lightly on the door frame, peeking his head into the hospital room. Laura was sitting up, reading; he didn't have to look at the book to know it was homework. "Hey sis, how are you?" He stepped into the room, trying not to notice the bloody patches on her hospital gown. Laura looked... almost as bad as he probably did. He wondered if she had gotten any sleep either.<p>

She looked up at him and grimaced. "Not great. It still hurts."

"Still? I figured you would be itching to get back on your feet by now."

She shook her head. "I've never been hurt this bad before. The doctor said the wounds looked like they came from a carving knife, and that was after they'd healed up some. I'm gonna be in here for another day at least." She forced her mouth into a smile, but he could see it didn't reach her eyes. "Still, anyone else would still be in the ICU, so I should be thankful." Her smile faltered when he didn't return it, and she dropped her head, clutching her sheets. "It's... scary, being reminded that you have limits."

"I'm sorry, sis. I should have been there."

"No, it's not your fault. It's not like you were doing anything wrong.

He laughed nervously. "Uh, right, yeah."

"...oh." She sighed and closed her eyes. "Out starting fights again?"

He wanted to protest that he didn't start fights, but he knew it wasn't true. Even if someone else always threw the first punch, he intentionally provoked them. He hung his head. "I'm so, so sorry-"

"Forget it," she said, shaking her head. "It's done and in the past. Anyway, it doesn't really matter what you were doing. The point is, you can't just hang around us all the time just in case there's danger. I mean, what are the odds of a bunch of freak animals attacking our house?"

Rick bit his lip, considering whether or not to tell her, but it was going to have to come out sooner or later. "Actually, they might be higher than you think. Those animals... dad thinks Dr. Wai sent them."

"What?" She sat straight up, then screwed her eyes shut in pain and fell back. Rick winced to see a fresh red strain blossoming on her shirt. "Ah, shit." She reached out and grabbed a little remote, pressing a button.

Almost immediately a nurse rushed into the room. She took one look at Laura and glared at Rick. "What are you doing?"

"Sorry... I think I startled her, and she... sorry... I'll just go..." He ducked out of the room and hurried down the hall. He almost bumped into a police officer at a corner, but managed to swerve just in time. Before he could continue, though, the officer caught him gently by the upper arm.

"You're Richard, right? Laura's brother?"

He pulled his arm away but turned to face the cop. "Yeah, why?"

"Oh, I just need to take your statement on all this..."

"Do the police usually get involved in animal attacks?"

"This is a special case," the man replied gently.

_"-looked __like __they __came __from__ a __carving __knife."_Rick sighed. "You don't think an animal did that to Laura, do you?"

"It would have to be a pretty strange creature, that's for sure. Those wounds went straight through her body. Now I can't think of any animal with claws or teeth long enough to do that. Can you, Richard? Can you think of what might make a wound like that?"

He sighed. If he lied, they'd just find out and it would make things worse. "Air, probably."

The cop raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"I think her injuries came from an extremely high pressure air current. That's what did most of the damage to our house, it's probably what did most of the damage to her."

"So, when your sister says she was attacked by a hawk-"

"Fits with what I saw. When I arrived, she was lying on the ground and there was a hawk going for my parents. If she says the injuries came from the hawk, I believe it. It just probably didn't attack her with its beak or anything like that."

"And you expect me to believe that a bird attacked your sister with air."

"Not really, but I figured it was better to level with you than to make up a story you could believe. Can I go now?" Without waiting for an answer, he pushed past the cop and headed for the elevator.

The walls of the cramped garage shuddered, as a massive set of speakers blasted speed metal. The bass player furiously scrubbed polish into the side of a black motorcycle. She knew she was doing more harm than good, that she needed to take it to a professional. Of course, she wouldn't _have _to if a certain _moron_ had been paying attention to the road. Some neglected corner of her mind pointed out that she had ignored a stop sign while driving fifteen miles over the speed limit and that she might bear some responsibility for the near-collision, but that just made her angrier.

The music suddenly stopped and she looked up; a tall man with dark hair was leaning against the bench that propped up her speakers, arms crossed and smiling at her. It was a very oily, unpleasant smile that made her feel like she needed a shower just looking at it.

"I'm surprised you're wasting time with that when someone else is going after your prey."

She turned back to her motorcycle. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't want to know. Now if you don't get out of my garage, I'm going to remove you. Piece by piece."

"I'm talking about the fight you never finished. The guy who wrecked your precious bike and your precious concert in the span of a week."

In a flash she leaped over the bike and grabbed the man by the collar, lifting him off his feet. "Have you been spying on me?"

Even dangling in the air, the man remained nonchalant. He spread his hands and widened his grin, raising his eyebrows in a mockery of innocence. "Just following orders. Your father does worry about you so."

She snorted and threw him into the wall. He simply stood back up and made a great show of dusting himself off. "And now your father's orders are to end that boy's life. Slowly and painfully, if possible. But don't worry, he's not supposed to be killed for another few days. Just in case you wanted to do it yourself first."

"What? That's insane. And I know that shouldn't surprise me anymore, but seriously. Insane. You can tell the old man that if I_wanted_that guy dead, he would be dead by now."

"Are you actually concerned for the boy? Well, I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later. You are getting about that age." He put up his hands as if to defend himself from her withering glare. "But you need to keep that ego in check, my dear, this has nothing to do with you. His death has always been part of your father's plan." He saw the confused expression that crossed her face and gave her a look of disbelief. "Don't tell me you don't know who that boy is?"

An unwelcome idea began to form in her mind; she tried to repress it, but it wouldn't go away. She had to make sure. She grabbed her helmet and started her bike. "I'm leaving. Don't be here when I get back. And if I ever catch you spying on me, I'll cut out your fucking eyes."

Even over the sound of the motorcycle engine, she could hear his reply. "Oh don't worry. You won't catch me."

* * *

><p>"Rick."<p>

"Nnngh..."

"Rick!"

Rick groaned and rolled over. A hand settled on his shoulder and shook him gently; he opened one eye. "...mom? What time is it?"

"Rick, I think someone's watching our house."

Within seconds Rick was out of bed and down the stairs, his eyes already turning gray. The house was still in shambles; as he passed broken furniture and torn wallpaper, images of the previous day's attack flashed through his mind.

His mother followed him, though he barely caught what she was saying. "They keep circling the block, so legally they're just walking on a public sidewalk and the police can't do anything. I would have gone out there and said something, but after yesterday..."

"Right. Got it." Rick had reached the broken window of the living room. The sidewalk was empty at the moment, but someone was coming into view.

"There he is. That's him." Even from this distance, there was no mistaking the motorcycle helmet with the gold fins.

"I'll take care of this." He jumped out of the window. "Hey! Hey, what are you doing here?"

The biker stopped and turned to face him, but didn't answer.

He grabbed a hold of their jacket. "What did you come here for? How do you know where I live? Are you stalking me or something? I don't think I can deal with your shit today. Could you come back later?" The biker's only reply was to reach up and pull Rick's hands off their jacket.

He narrowed his eyes as something occurred to him. "Did you have something to do with what happened yesterday? Are you with Dr. Wai? Listen, if you have a problem with me, you take it up with me. If you bring my family into it, if I even _think_ you're _thinking_ of hurting any of them, I will fuck. You. Up. Got it?" He was met with the same infuriating silence as before. He clung to the anger; it was holding back his fear. "Well? Say something!"

He fully expected them to punch him again. He wasn't prepared for the slightly muffled response that came through the helmet. "What are you talking about?"

The shock of hearing the biker's voice pushed the anger and worry out of his mind, leaving him almost dizzy. "...you're a girl?"

As if to remove any doubt, the biker reached up to remove their helmet. The face beneath was hard angular, with a narrow chin and prominent cheekbones, but it was still unquestionably female. And even if her face and voice left any doubt, the t-shirt he'd seen her wearing at the bar didn't conceal her figure as well as the loose leather jacket. "You're just now figuring that out?" the bass player asked.

"No, I... of course I knew you were a girl when I saw you in the bar. I just didn't make the connection between the biker and the bass player."

"...fucking moron."

He rolled his eyes. "Well I guess I didn't recognize you without your stupid helmet."

"You have a problem with my helmet?"

"I could write a book on what is wrong with that helmet. Look, I don't know if you came here to kick my ass again or what, but I don't want to fight you."

"You seemed pretty eager for a fight a few minutes ago. Weren't you going to 'fuck me up'? And if you changed your mind because I'm a girl-"

"That's not it! I mean, okay, I'll be honest, I'm not too comfortable with the idea of punching a girl. But that's not the point. Yesterday, I went out to look for trouble, and this is what happened while I was gone." Rick pointed to the heavily damaged house behind him. "And I know you had nothing to do with it, because I know where you were when this was happening. I was there with you. Honestly it was stupid to think you might have had something to do with it, I was just being paranoid and I'm sorry I threatened you. So, considering that, I have no good reason to fight you. And I am _done_ picking fights just because I'm angry. Now, I'd like you to leave, as you're scaring my mother. Unless you had some other business here?"

"I..." For a moment he thought her voice was a bit hesitant, but it must have been his imagination as she continued in full force. "Fine. I'm going. You don't have to be so pissy about it." She pulled her helmet on and started to walk away. Then she turned back to face him. "Regardless of how or why it started, fighting you was the most fun I've had in years. I'd like to do it again sometime. Y'know, when you're done feeling sorry for yourself." And she walked away.


	5. Chapter 5

When Rick came downstairs Tuesday morning, the smell of bacon prepared him for his father's presence in the kitchen. What he was not ready for both of his parents to be sitting at the dining room table, staring sternly at him. _Shit, what did I do this time? _"Uh, hey guys, what's up?"

"Please have a seat," said his father. "We have to talk about this." He dropped a newspaper on the table. Rick examined it as he sat in the chair. It was a local tabloid, the sort that ran stories about a zombie outbreak in the midwest or a green monster-man found in the jungles of Brazil. The front page of this issue was dominated by an unconvincing picture that looked like someone had photoshopped a wig onto the alien from _Predator_. However, another image was tucked into the corner: a photo of his father. These pictures were accompanied by the headline, 'Geneticist Breeds Super Soldier.' He skimmed through the story; most of the details were vague, some simply wrong, but it was definitely about Laura. An 'inside source' from the hospital had come to the tabloid after the major newspapers refused to run the story, and the writer of the piece suggested that the mainstream media might be in on 'the conspiracy.' Rick looked up at his parents.

"Okay, that's... messed up. But it's just a tabloid. Who believes anything they read in those?" He paused for a moment; he knew there were some nuts who believed every word.

"A more reputable newspaper might pick it up soon," his mom said. "We _are _under investigation by the police."

"Yeah, that happened six years ago too, and nothing came of it."

"We weren't suspects that time, it was a stolen property case. This time, Laura's hurt, and they're not getting straight answers. It looks very suspicious, and there may not be any way but to expose your abilities."

"Well, it's not actually supposed to be a secret, right?" He glanced at his mom, who looked uncomfortable. "I mean, I know you don't want us drawing attention to ourselves, but I didn't think we were trying to cover it up or anything." He turned to his dad. "I thought you'd published papers on us."

"Not published, exactly. The papers I've written were summaries intended for the groups funding my work, since they want to know how I'm spending their money, and I make all of my notes available to an ethics committee. But these are all people whose discretion I can count on. I've never released my findings to the larger medical or scientific communities, let alone the mass media. As far as the world at large knows, I'm just researching potential side effects of the retrovirus I developed. I don't want to draw attention to ourselves."

"...does this mean I should have lied to that cop at the hospital?"

His parents looked at each other. "What did you tell him?" his mother asked.

"I told him that a bird attacked my sister with pressurized air. I don't think he believed me."

"You shouldn't have said anything. It would have been wrong to lie to him, but you're within your rights not to tell him anything."

"Mom, we didn't do anything wrong, so we have nothing to hide. Did we? I mean, the way you two are trying to cover this up-"

His mother put a comforting hand on his. "We're not trying to cover it up. We're just trying to keep a low profile."

"I'm starting to wonder if there's a difference."

His father sighed. "Rick, we just want you kids to be able to live a normal life."

"I appreciate the sentiment, dad, but we're not normal." His eyes turned gray, and he held up his hand. A faint haze of blue light appeared around it. "You can call this a mutation, or a condition, and I'm sure you have like a hundred different technical terms for what we are, but let's get real here. We have superpowers. I don't think we can hide them forever. Sooner or later we're going to have to deal with this. Particularly if Dr. Wai tries something like this again."

His mother raised an eyebrow. "Dr. Wai? What does he have to do with this?"

Rick gave his father a long stare. After a moment his mom turned to look at her husband expectantly. Rick stood up. "Looks like you two have a lot to talk about. I'm heading to school."

* * *

><p>The hospital was designed to look inviting, at least from the parking lot. The building formed a slight arch that suggested outstretched arms preparing to give a warm embrace. The white walls were made of a slightly rough material so they didn't look too slick and intimidating. And there was a large, pleasant fountain across from the entrance.<p>

Rick was sitting on a bench near the fountain, listening to the sounds of the water and trying to relax. He'd done this the day before, too, before going in to confront Laura. When he had seen her on Monday, she had been her normal cheerful self and didn't seem upset that he hadn't been there to protect her. But for Rick, being forgiven so easily just made the guilt worse. He wondered if Laura was doing it on purpose. Still, he had committed to see her every day until she was out-which hopefully wouldn't be much longer-on the pretense of bringing her homework assignments.

"Okay, Rick, you got this." He took a deep breath and stood up, lifting his backpack. He looked up at the hospital and almost sat back down. He shook his head.

He had only taken one step when he heard barking dogs. From their throaty voices he guessed they were large dogs, and were getting closer. He glanced at the hospital door. Could he make it before the dogs arrived? Of course, they were probably harmless. He knew the attack had made him overly sensitive. He'd jumped the other day when he heard a cat yowl, and on the way to the hospital he'd gotten nervous when someone behind him drove too close. The dogs had probably gotten away from some overwhelmed dog-walker. But he thought they sounded angry, and he didn't want to take the chance.

On the other hand, if this was another attack, there was no sense running. They'd probably just follow him through the hospital, wrecking the place and endangering innocent people. He tucked the backpack under the bench, stretching a little bit to loosen up, as half a dozen dogs came into view. The previous attack had been a random mixture of animals, but these were all the same breed of big black dogs. All of their eyes were glowing red. Rick clenched his hands into fists, a blue glow surrounding them as wind tugged at his clothes.

The girl with the purple hair stood at the door of The Iron Hammered, arms crossed and trying to look intimidating. It was something she was fairly good at.

"How long have you been standing like that?" She glared at the dark-haired man with the oily smile who had sidled up to her. "Since this place opens at noon... must have been hours. Aren't you tired?"

She looked away, keeping her eyes straight ahead. "What did I tell you about spying on me?"

"Oh, this isn't spying. Just a social call."

"No loitering."

"All business today, is it? Well I suppose you are on the clock. But I have news that I thought would interest you."

"Unless it's that you have a terminal illness, I don't want to hear it."

"Oh, you know what it's about, my dear. That boy we spoke of last time."

"I really don't care. Why are you still here?"

"If you didn't care, you wouldn't have gone to warn him of your father's plans."

"What, the ridiculous plan to have him killed? Yeah, I wouldn't have wasted my breath on that. It's never gonna happen."

The man laid a hand on her shoulder. " But it _is _happening. Right now, in fact."

She grabbed the offending hand and twisted it, enjoying the cracking sound of his wrist breaking. "Please. Give me an excuse to kick your ass. It won't be much of a fight, but I'll enjoy it while I can." With a sharp tug that dislocated his shoulder, she threw him to the ground at her feet. "Now, the guy you were talking about? He put up a good fight. The best I've ever had. And that's how I know that none of you pathetic losers can take him. Hell, I don't care if all eight of you gang up on him, it's still not happening."

"Oh dear." Even though he was trying to speak as nonchalantly as ever, she was pleased to hear the pain in his voice as he struggled to his feet. "I don't know whether you're overestimating him or underestimating us."

At first she thought she was imagining it, but there was no doubt that his face was beginning to twist and shift. And she could have sworn he was getting smaller. She took a step back, trying to keep an expression of horror from her face. Within seconds she was staring at a girl who looked far too much like herself. It wasn't a perfect copy; this girl had no muscle tone, and her purple hair was the same length and style as the man's. But it was unmistakably her own angular face, her own red eyes looking derisively at her, her own lips twisted in that oily grin. She wanted to throw up.

"Surprised?" he asked in her voice. "Questions of sanity aside, you must know your father is a man of great vision and vast ambition. Did you really think he'd stop with you?"

She forced her face into a stern expression. "I thought he'd learned his lesson."

The man quickly turned back into himself. "He's learned many things from his failure."

She snarled and grabbed the man by the throat, hand glowing red. "I don't care what kind of pathetic copycat bullshit you pull, this 'failure' can still tear you apart." He tried to say something-probably something condescending that would piss her off further-but luckily for him he could only make vague choking noises. She threw him to the ground. "I'm the strongest in the world. Don't you ever forget that."

* * *

><p>Rick stood panting, surrounded by fallen dogs. At first he'd tried to stop them without doing too much harm, but he hadn't even slowed them down until he started breaking legs and ribs and jaws. Eventually he'd had to get a bit more ruthless. One or two of the dogs were still whimpering, but he was pretty sure the rest were dead. He dug his phone out of his pocket to check the time. It was getting late, and Laura would be worried.<p>

"I'm impressed." Rick dropped his phone as a voice came from behind him. He spun around to face a blond man in a suit, sitting with a smile on the edge of the fountain. "I didn't think you would be a match for my presas. Poor babies." He sighed. "I know I should just do this as quickly and efficiently as I can, but I was instructed to make you suffer and I must say, I'm starting to like the idea."

Rick took a step away from the man. "These are _your _dogs? Who are you? Are you working with Dr. Wai? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, dear, so many questions, let's see... yes, not telling, yes, and killing you. Does that about cover it? I'm on a tight schedule and I'd like to get on with it."

"Sorry, but I'm not in a hurry to die." He launched a glowing blast of high pressure air at the man, who twisted to the side to avoid it.

"Yes, I saw that one already. You killed four of my dogs with that exact same blast-spherical, moves in a straight line. Is that your only move?"

"It's more than you've got." Rick threw a few more balls of air, which were evaded just as effortlessly as the first.

"You'd be surprised." The man's eyes flashed red, and a red light surrounded his hands. He waved his arm, and a glowing sheet of water detached itself from the flow of the fountain and crashed into Rick, almost knocking him off his feet. He fired another blast of air, which the man blocked with a thick wall of water.

The man made a sweeping gesture over his head, and another stream of water flowed out. Rick jumped aside, but with a flick of his finger the man changed its course. Rick felt most of his ribs breaking under the pounding torrent that knocked him on his back. As he fell, he launched a few more blasts of air at the man, but his aim was way off.

Rick screwed his eyes shut. It was partially from the pain, but mostly he didn't want the man to see them turning green. He needed to buy time. "How did you... do that?" he gasped. "William's power... only works on gases..."

"So I've heard." Water pelted Rick's body like rain, each drop hitting hard enough to bruise. He cracked open one eye and saw the man raising a massive wall of water that would no doubt be crashing down on him in a moment. He rolled over and crawled away as fast as he could, but not fast enough. The water hammered down on his legs. Rick screamed as every bone from his knees down shattered.

"Well," said the man, "that should be enough suffering to satisfy Dr. Wai. Time to finish this." He held up a hand, and a plume of water rose from the puddles on the ground. When he clenched his hand into a fist, the water shaped itself into a sharp point. Rick wasn't sure it would actually be sharp enough to stab through him, but he didn't want to find out. He dug his fingers into the ground and tried to drag himself away, but he knew he wouldn't be fast enough.

A chilling wind swept across Rick's body, carrying with it a wistful, haunting whistle. There was a soft splashing noise as the spike of water collapsed on the ground. In his heart Rick knew what was happening, but his head refused to believe it. He did his best to prop himself up on his elbows so he could see.

The man attacking him had turned to face the source of the sound. The sun was getting low, and Rick could only see the silhouette of a tall, slim man walking slowly towards them, a long piece of cloth billowing in the wind. Even though he couldn't see the details, Rick knew it was a long yellow scarf. As the man drew closer, he could just barely make out the dot of orange light that was the lit end of his cigarette. Then all at once everything else seemed to come into focus-the t-shirt worn over the long-sleeved shirt, the hands tucked into the pockets, the unruly black hair with the bangs dyed light gray, the large reflective sunglasses that broke up the outline of a face so much like Rick's own...

He stopped whistling as he came to a halt a few yards from the man in the suit. He reached up and with one finger lifted the sunglasses, gazing down at Rick with bored gray eyes. Then he let them drop and took a long drag on his cigarette.

The man in the suit stared at the newcomer for a while before tilting his head to one side. "I don't mean to be rude but... who the hell are you?"

Swirls of blue light danced around the man in the suit, cutting into his clothes and flesh like razors. The man with the scarf, who hadn't even taken his hands out of his pockets, grinned. "I'm the wind. Dumbass."


	6. Chapter 6

Rick slowly sat up to better take in the scene. The man in the suit had fallen to his knees, clutching at a wound on his shoulder. He looked up at the man looming over him. "Oh, I see... William, isn't it? You look nothing like your picture."

William shook his head. "You have a picture of me? Fuckin' stalker."

The man in the suit swung his uninjured arm, flinging several spear-like streams of water. William didn't flinch; a transparent triangle of blue light appeared hanging in front of him, and the water crashed harmlessly into it. As the man in the suit struggled to his feet, the barrier flew forward and knocked him onto his back.

William took a few slow, deliberate steps forward. The man in the suit tried to bring up more water to attack, but a gust of glowing air splattered it across the ground. William put a foot down a few inches from the man's face. "I suggest you get up and get out of here, before you _really _get hurt."

The man glanced up at William, then cast a glare at Rick. He got to his feet slowly, wincing and gasping with every small movement. He gave a pained smile and a slight bow, then turned and limped away. William watched him leave, then turned back to Rick.

Rick closed his eyes and laid back. "You let him go?" he gasped.

"Well yeah. What else was I gonna do with him? Hang him on my wall like a trophy? He'd completely ruin my decor."

"You could have... turned him over to the police. He... came here to kill me."

"Seriously? What have you got yourself into?"

Rick sat up and immediately regretted it, falling back onto his elbows. "I didn't do... anything!"

"Of course you didn't. Well anyway, it's hard to pin assault charges on a guy who looks like he just went through a paper shredder." William took his sunglasses off and looked down at Rick. "So explain to me why I needed to save your ass this time?"

"I could have taken him."

"Uh-huh."

"I was buying time to turn this around."

"Right."

"What are you doing here anyway?"

"Besides saving your ass?"

"...yeah. Besides saving my ass. Thanks for that, I guess. But I just don't understand why you're here, and now of all times."

William shrugged. "In case you missed it, my little sister is in the hospital. Can't a concerned brother drop in for a visit?"

Rick rolled his eyes. "Oh, so that's what it takes for you to turn up? Dad had a heat stroke last summer, you didn't show up for _that_."

"I had a gig. By the time I got back in town, he was fine. I'm sure he understands."

"A gig? Dad almost died."

"Hey, I barely get enough work as it is. If I start bailing on shows I've already agreed to play, no one will book me."

"Unbelievable."

"Jeez, Rick, since when are you such a whiner? I mean, I guess I should cut you some slack cause you look like you're in a lot of pain there, but seriously. Chill. Can you stand yet?"

After a moment, Rick managed to sit up. He tried to move one leg, but the pain that shot through it was too much. "I don't think so."

"Man. He really got you good, huh?"

"Yeah... shit." Rick ran his hands through his hair. "I couldn't even touch him."

"Well, what's done is done. Best to let it go."

Rick gave a bitter chuckle. "Laura said something like that."

"That's because she's smarter than you. Dwelling on the past doesn't get you anything. Best to focus on what's ahead."

"...I need you to teach me."

"Teach you what?"

"How to use your powers."

"What?"

"You and I have the same power... but we're leagues apart."

"Okay first off. We do not have the same power. You have a diluted copy of my power. Second off, were you not just listening? Past? Future? All that? You need to stop worrying about what you didn't do, or what you couldn't do."

"This is about what I can do next time. William, these aren't random attacks, and they're gonna keep happening."

"How do you figure?"

"The animals that attacked our house, those dogs," Rick gestured to the dead dogs, "they had our powers. Dad thinks Dr. Wai has been modifying them."

"Dr. Wai? Really? I mean, he was always kind of a nut, but that's just nuts."

"And that guy told me he was working for Wai."

"Well that's... weird."

"Two attacks, and the guy wanted to kill me. He said he had your picture, so I think they're looking for you too. We're all targets, you and me and Laura and probably mom and dad. This isn't over. I can't count on you to be around all the time to save us. I have be stronger."

"You can't be around all the time either, you know. All they have to do is wait until you're not around and then attack."

"I know, and I know there's nothing I can do about that. But I want them to be able to count on me when I am around. And of course I want to be able to protect myself. I don't really want to die."

"Well, what do you think I can teach you?"

"Are you kidding? How about what you just did to that guy? Blades and shields and... all I've managed to figure out is shooting balls of air. Push comes to shove, I can shoot a bigger ball."

"I can't explain what to do, I can't put it into words. It just comes naturally to me. You'll just have to practice and figure it out yourself."

"...yeah okay. Thanks for nothing."

"You're welcome. How are your legs?"

Rick tried to move his legs again. "They don't hurt as much as before, but I don't think I can walk yet."

"Alright. You just hang out here for now. If you go into the hospital all beat up like that, they'll want to keep you. I'll tell Laura you came."

"Could you at least take her homework to her?" Rick pointed to the backpack he had tucked under the bench.

"Yeah, I guess." William dropped the butt of his cigarette and stomped it out, then retrieved the backpack. He walked past Rick and waved. "See you later."

* * *

><p>"We've received a message from 'Purge', sir."<p>

At first, Dr. Wai gave no indication that he had heard the woman and remained fixated on his computer screen. After a moment he waved with his hand as if beckoning her closer. "Go on," he said with exasperation. "Is his target deceased?"

"No sir. He said that Target Two intervened in the fight. He said he didn't think he could take both of them, so he withdrew."

"Both of them? He couldn't defeat Wright's heir even without the younger siblings interfering. Not that I expected much from him." Wai sighed. "I suppose I should have him killed."

"I... don't see what that would accomplish, sir."

"It would set a good example. He fled without accomplishing his task because he feared for his life. I can't very well let that sort of attitude go unchecked, can I? Now, if he knew that certain death was waiting for him if he abandoned his mission, I think he would have taken his chances with the Wrights."

"Be that as it may, sir, his financial backing is still very necessary to our work."

"Hm, I suppose that is true. I'm working on a contingency plan, but until it's ready I need him alive. A pity."

"Yes sir. In addition, he has some useful information on Target Two."

"Oh, very good. What is it?"

"After the confrontation, 'Purge' followed Target Two to an apartment complex downtown, where he appears to be living. He also has updated information on the target's appearance."

"A photograph?"

"He wasn't able to get one. He has a description and an illustration. May I?" She stepped towards the keyboard, and Dr. Wai rolled his chair aside. She brought up the image of a poster taped to a brick wall, which appeared to be advertising a jazz show. The rough sketch depicted a man with sunglasses and a scarf, playing a harmonica. The caption gave the date, time and location of the show, as well as identifying the performer as 'Billy Blues.' "Apparently this flier was outside the target's apartment. 'Purge' says it's a fairly good likeness."

"Splendid." Dr. Wai reached up to stroke his mustache. "I suppose in light of this, his failure can be overlooked this time. Assign Wrath to Target Two, I want him to attack this performance." He pointed to the poster on the screen. "Keep Purge on Target Three."

"Yes sir."

"Oh, and please tell him... he will not survive a second failure."

* * *

><p>The bass player sat outside the Iron Hammered, her legs blocking the doorway while she leaned her back against the door. The bartender had taken up a similar position on the inside. He took a few gulps from a bottle of clear liquid, then lazily passed it to her. She lifted the bottle to her lips.<p>

"Are you supposed to be drinking on the job?"

She lowered the bottle and squinted up at the figure standing by the door. When she realized it was Rick and not her father's spy, she relaxed a bit and handed the bottle back to the bartender. "Hey Julie. We haven't had a customer in five hours. Not that this place is ever crowded or anything. So. Are you done feeling sorry for yourself?"

"Yeah," said Rick. "I guess I am."

"Great. Did you come to get your ass kicked? Or did you want a drink first?"

"Actually I came here to talk to you."

"Ugh." She slumped back as best she could against the door frame. "And here I thought you might actually relieve my boredom. Fine, fine, talk away. I'm not promising I'll listen or anything, but go right ahead..."

"I was wondering, where did you learn to fight?"

"Is that supposed to be smack talk? Because it doesn't really work in this situation-"  
>"No, it's a serious question. It's clear that you've actually had some training. I pretty much just throw myself into fights, make it up as I go, and remember what works and especially what doesn't. But now... some kind of actual self-defense training couldn't hurt, but all I can find are these kiddie dojos."<p>

"So, you want me to help you get stronger so you can beat me? Why should I help you? Not that you'll ever catch up, but..."

"That's not it! I told you, I don't want to fight you."

"Then why are you bothering me?"

He looked at the bartender, who stared back at him for a second, then made a big show of settling into his spot before taking a long drink from the bottle. Rick sighed. "You probably won't believe me, because it sounds crazy to me too, but I think someone's trying to kill me."

The girl looked up at him, then slowly got to her feet. "I believe it."

"Well, they almost succeeded. It wasn't even close. I mean, when I fought you, I was at least putting up a good fight, but this... he's still out there, and I'm pretty sure he's still after me. And I need to be ready for him, or anyone stronger than him."

She looked into his eyes for a few seconds before looking down. Then she took a deep breath and smacked him on the side of the head, hard enough to send him reeling.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"What do you mean it wasn't even close? What does that say about me?"

"What are you talking about?"

She hit him again. "You're the closest match I've ever had! If you go around losing to other people, it makes me look bad! Are you saying this guy is stronger than me? Moron! I'm the strongest in the world!"

"...would it make you feel better if I told you he had superpowers?"

"I don't care if he was a goddamn killer robot that shot giant scissors out of his head!"

"That... is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."  
>She drew her hand back to hit him, and he put up his arms. She let her hand drop to her side. "Pathetic. Fine. I know a couple of good teachers around town." She decided not to mention that most of them had thrown her out of their classes. Surely they didn't all still hate her. "I'll call around, see if anyone will take you. If only so you'll stop embarrassing me."<p>

"Great! And... my sister too?"

The girl stepped back. "What? What does she have to do with this?"

"When I said someone's out to kill me... the truth is, I think they're going after my whole family. That's why I was so angry when you came by on Sunday, I thought maybe you were one of them and... you know what it doesn't matter. Even if I train my ass off, I can't always be there to protect them. My parents... I don't know what I can do for them. But I can at least help Laura."

"Laura..." _Are you really going to drag her into this, old man? _"Have you asked her if she _wants _to learn to fight?"

"I... figured I'd kinda do the legwork first. If I told her she should look into self-defense lessons, she'd promise to look into it, run a few Google searches, and say she couldn't find anything. If I have a teacher lined up for her, she might be more inclined to listen to me."

She snatched the bottle from the bartender, who gave her a sullen look as she downed what remained of its contents. "I only promised you one introduction."

"Then please, help Laura. I'll find a way to manage on my own, but..." He trailed off and looked down at his feet.

_It's that serious, huh? _She sighed heavily and passed the empty bottle back to the bartender. "Fine. I'll try to set up something for your sister. In return, you get over yourself and fight me again. Maybe you'll get lucky and I can beat some skill into you."

"...if that's what it takes."


	7. Chapter 7

_-Chapter 7 of this story was originally published on Dec 19th, 2011. This is a fairly drastic rewrite of that chapter, published Dec 26th, 2011.-_

About half a block from the Iron Hammered there was a small area of clear ground. Presumably there had been plans to build something there, but they must have been abandoned fairly early on, because there was only about half a foundation. The rest of the lot was overrun with grass, from which Rick stared up at the sky, panting. His back had only hurt a few seconds after he hit the ground, but he wasn't in a hurry to get back up. He was a little light-headed from exhaustion, and it was a relaxing view. Soon, however, the sky was blocked out by a silhouette over him. The bass player stared down at him. Her red eyes were almost glowing.

"That was pathetic! I think you're actually getting worse!"

"Well," he gasped, "after four hours... I probably am. I'm kind of worn out..."

"No excuses." She kicked him in the side-not nearly as hard as he knew she could, but it still hurt. "You think someone who wants to kill you is gonna wait for you to catch your breath? Now, are you going to get up or am I going to keep kicking you?"

"I'll get up, I'll get up!" He jumped back to his feet and turned to face her. "How is it that you're not tired at all?"

"Because I'm not a whiny bitch. Try it sometime." She came at him again.

"Y'know... I might... get more out of this... if you would..." He grunted as her foot connected with his stomach.

"Save your breath for fighting!"

"But if... you would actually... teach me something?" He managed to land a right hook on her jaw. She staggered back and wiped her mouth with a gloved hand before charging back in.

"Do I look like your mentor? You knew what you were getting into. I beat you till you figure it out. That's the plan."

"Could you... just try..."

"Moron. What could I even teach you? You find an opening, you take it. Like this!" She kicked him in the knee, and he almost fell forward. "And this!" A quick jab to the side cracked a rib, which didn't . She drew back her hand. "And this!"  
>She had probably expected him to try to block or evade her next punch. She clearly didn't expect him to stand his ground and take the hit to the face, instead focusing all his attention on the precise timing needed to grab her wrist. "Like this?" he sputtered.<p>

She pulled her hand back, and he almost lost his grip, but he kept hold of her wrist and pulled back. He tried to mimic a throw she'd pulled on him hours ago that, but he must have done it wrong because he lost his balance and fell with her. In the instant they were falling, they grabbed and pushed and clawed furiously at each other, and as they landed he managed to pin both her wrists to the ground.

She pushed against his hold, and she very nearly threw him off. But he had the advantage in pure size and strength, and though it was with difficulty he managed to wrestle her back to the ground. After a moment she stopped thrashing and glared up at him, and he noticed with some satisfaction that she was breathing heavily. _At least I'm giving her a good workout... _From this distance, he could feel her breath on his sweat-soaked face, and his shirt shifted as her chest rose and fell against it. "How... how'm I doin, teach? Wazzat... pretty good?"

"Yeah," she panted. "Not bad... just remember..." And then her knee connected with his groin and everything was pain. "Don't get cocky." She rolled him off her.

"Not gonna be a problem," he squeaked.

"Baby. Fine." She sat up. "You can have a two minute break."

"Is that because... you're tired?"

"Do you want me to kick you again?" She looked down at him. "You know, that's something you should remember."

"What is?"

"You let me hit you, just to grab my wrist."

"And now I'm flat on my back with aching balls. Just as planned."

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm the strongest in the world before you believe me? Look, you've shown me that you can take a hell of a beating. In fact that's about all you've shown me so far. And if that's all you've got, fucking use it. Let that resilience be your defense so you can focus on offense."

"I'll keep that in mind... I guess..."

"You guess? I'm actually trying to impart some wisdom and you _guess _you'll try to remember it?" She shook her head. "So how's your sister doing?"

Rick sat up, wincing as he did. "Well, it was hard to talk her into it, but she recognized the importance of self defense. Hard to say how she's doing after just one lesson, though."

She reached over and smacked him. "I didn't mean the judo. I mean how is she doing, I dunno, personally, emotionally?"

"Oh. Oh! Right!" Rick slapped his forehead. "I should have known you were asking that, because, um..." _Because you have rarely shown interest in anything other than kicking my ass, so of course I would expect you to care about the well-being of someone you've never met. _"Well, anyway, I guess she's holding up pretty good. She was a little shaken at first, but she's doing better now." He bit his lip. "Actually, I think she cheered up after my brother visited her."

"Well good. It's good that your family can stick together."

He scowled. "Yeah, it's great. We're like glue and stuff."

She stared at him for a long while, then sighed and stood up, dusting off the seat of her pants. "Alright Julie. Break's over. Back to the part where I kick your ass."

Rick hurried to his feet. "You know, I have a name. It's Rick."

"But you fight like a Julie."

"What does that even me-EAN!" His words gave way to a rather embarrassing squeak as she lunged at him.

Even after his brief rest, Rick was out of breath again within ten minutes. He was about ready to call it a day, although he wasn't sure he'd stop trying to hit her, when he saw an opening-the best she'd given him all day. _It might be nice to end this on a high note. _With that in mind, he punched her in the gut, as hard as he could.

She doubled over, coughing as she skidded back several feet. It was a proud moment for Rick, until she put her hands over her mouth and kept coughing. He started to panic when she dropped to her knees. He glanced downward and was horrified to discover a spatter of red across his white shirt. "Shit! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, oh god are you okay? Never mind, that's a stupid question, what do I _do_?"

"You could stop babbling." She got unsteadily to her feet. "It's not a big deal."

"Not a big-you're _coughing up blood_. How is that not a big deal?"

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, which served only to smear the blood on her lips across her cheeks. "Didn't I tell you not to get cocky? It's nothing you did... just happens to me sometimes. I'll be fine-" She started coughing again, and fell forward. He managed to catch her, half-expecting to fall under her weight. But he didn't; the girl was lighter than he'd expected.

It had never really struck him before how _small _she was. Of course, he had known on a conscious level that she was short, and lightly built. But it was a whole different matter to have her leaning on him, shuddering and convulsing. The top of her hair barely brushed his chin, and her shoulders were scarcely as wide as his chest. _What do I do? What do I do what do I do what do I do?_ Somewhere beneath the panic, part of him was fuming. _How did I let a girl the size of my dog knock me around for four hours straight?_

"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "It's gonna be okay."

"You don't need to reassure me," she said, but her voice was too quiet. "I told you, I'll be fine. I just have to go..." She hesitated for a moment. "I have to see my doctor, take my medicine, and I'll be fine." She pushed against his chest and stumbled towards her motorcycle, which she had parked on the sidewalk.

"You're going to drive? You can barely walk! Isn't there someone you can call, someone who can come get you?"

"No. Now quit worrying, it's not even half a mile." She climbed onto the bike and released the kickstand, at which point the bike toppled over and spilled her on the sidewalk.

Rick ran over to her and helped her to her feet. He noticed she was trembling, but didn't mention it. "Sorry," he said instead, "I think I have to keep worrying. Half a mile you said?" Before she could object he slung her arm over his shoulder. "Tell me the way."

* * *

><p>Quiet conversation filled the little club. On a small stage crowded with cords and sound equipment, William tapped lightly on a microphone. Satisfied that it was more or less working, he put a harmonica to his lips and blew into it-just a gentle note to get the audience's attention. As the voices of the crowd died down and people started looking up at him, he smiled. "Good evening, welcome to the Jazz Station. It's good being back in Blue Valley. Don't know how many of you know this, but I grew up in this town. Played my first gig right here on this stage, so it has sentimental value." He pushed his sunglasses a little farther up his nose. "And now that I have appeased the management, let's get to the music." A few people chuckled at that as he put the harmonica to his lips again.<p>

He'd only been playing for a few measures and was about to start singing when the sound started to falter. He thought he smelled something burning. _Figures. I spend half an hour setting up this sound system, and it shorts out within thirty seconds. _It was starting to get hot, and he glanced around to make sure nothing was on fire, trying not to disrupt the performance. The audience was unusually quiet. With the performance clearly going wrong, he would expect a lot of whispering and muttering, but they were just staring silently. With one finger, he lifted his sunglasses. There was a strange red glow surrounding the microphone. He took a step back as it began to melt.

"You know," said a man standing in the front row, "I was kind of hoping it would burst into flames. Reality lets me down once again." William wondered how he had not noticed the man any sooner; his shaved head, red tank top and camo pants didn't exactly blend in. The man started to climb on stage, the numerous chains hanging from his clothes and wrapped around various parts of his body jangling. Finally he stood face to face with William.

"Who are you supposed to be?" asked William.

The man chuckled. "I'm _supposed _to be Wrath, and I guess that's got a nice ring to it but it's a little weird to introduce yourself as Wrath, right?"

William stared at him for a second, then dug a cigarette out of his pocket. "Compared to what? Melting a microphone in the middle of a performance with psychic powers?"

"Okay, fair enough. Hi, I'm Wrath. I'm here to burn this place to the ground." He turned to the audience. "You may commence panicking." A few people were heading towards the exit, but most of the crowd was more confused than frightened. Wrath turned back to William. "Tough crowd."

William shrugged as he finished lighting his cigarette and put his lighter away. "An act doesn't go over well, that's on the performer, not the crowd."

"I guess you're right." Wrath turned around. "I said _panic_!" A line of red light streaked across the room, and everything in its path burst into flames. In an instant the entire place was in an uproar, with people trampling each other to get out. Wrath smiled. "And now..." The exits were covered in the same red light; the floor and the door frames ignited. Those who dared to cross the light fell to the ground almost immediately, their clothes aflame and their bodies covered in burns.

Wrath turned back to William. "Now ain't that a thing of beauty?"

"Not really." Blue light broke through the wall of the building, and the crowd poured out through the hole. A wall of blue light appeared between William and Wrath, pushing the latter off the stage.

Wrath started laughing wildly. "That's fantastic! I think you cracked a rib. Forget that, did you just smash through a brick wall? With _air_? Ha ha ha!" He jumped to his feet, a crazed grin on his face. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy this. It's a shame you let those people get away, I was looking forward to the screams."

William sighed and hopped off the stage, heading for the new hole in the wall.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Everyone's safe," William said. "And now I have no audience. So what do I gain from hanging around here?"

The red light appeared across the hole in the wall. William could feel the heat radiating from it. Wrath put a hand on his shoulder from behind. "But I'm not done killing you."

William spun around, a gust of air taking Wrath off his feet. Wrath's brown eyes glowed red, and William was engulfed in the burning light. He immediately jumped out of the light, but even that fraction of a second was unbearable. His eyes, mouth, and nose were dry as dust, his clothes were singed and his cigarette was reduced to ash in an instant. William rolled on his back and, the moment Wrath came into view, blades of glowing air converged on him. Wrath tried to squirm out of the way, and lost most of his shirt and a fair amount of skin on his back and chest in the process.

William got back to his feet. "Now are we gonna stop this, or do you want to press your luck?"

Wrath laughed as he tore off the rest of his bloody shirt. "If you didn't want to play with me, you shouldn't have thrown out the rest of my toys." He held a hand up and made a swirling motion. Red light coursed through the air, low to the ground, igniting the floor in its wake. It circled around William, closing in tighter and tighter on him. Wrath watched with barely contained glee, even as gusts of glowing air hammered him from all directions.

William watched the flame closing in on him. "Are you sure you want to do this the hard way?" He was thankful for his sunglasses. He could keep his voice steady and his face calm, but his eyes would probably have given away his worry.

"It's always the most fun," said Wrath, twisting to avoid a blast of air. "Blow all the wind you want, Billy boy, you'll only fan the flames."

"Alright," William said, with more confidence than he felt. _I hope this works. _He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. A faint blue light covered the spiral of flame, which quickly died away. He opened his eyes.

"What? What was-what did you-oh. Oh I see! You took all the air away. The fire can't burn, and I can't heat air that's not there." Wrath started to clap, then dropped to his elbows as a blade of air swung towards him. "How clever. But, I can still work with the air right around you, can't I?" He smiled. "You can't survive a vacuum, after all."

The same faint light surrounded Wrath. "As a matter of fact, you can." William crossed his arms. "For at least half a minute, if you don't try to hold your breath. You're not trying to hold it, right?" Wrath gasped silently, then clutched at his throat. "Of course, you'll pass out after about fifteen seconds-oh there you go." William let the light fade as Wrath fell to the ground.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked through the hole in the wall, whistling.


End file.

Mega Man, Romance, Sci-Fi