Chương 7: Bk 1 Ch 7: Name

There's going to be an awkward conversation in my near future, but I trust Cassie to keep Jess and David from freaking out too bad. For now, I levitate the bodies and the heads into the van, dropping them in a pile. There's quite a bit of blood on the street, but I manage to levitate most of that in as well. It'll do. I let my staff vanish and pull the back doors closed, then move to the front of the van, unbuckling the dead driver and dumping him in back with the others.

I take his place; the van never actually got turned off, so all I have to do is disengage the parking break and shift into gear. Then, as I start driving, I finally glance at the whimpering survivor in the passenger seat.

"So. We're gonna play a little game where I ask questions and you give me answers. Here's the first one: Do you wanna live?" He nods vigorously, as much as he can.

"I- I'll tell you whatever you want! You're looking for Firestorm, right? I know where he is, where he keeps the cash and the drugs!"

"Well, don't keep me in suspense."

"If I- If I tell you, you'll let me go, right? I won't tell anyone about you, I swear, I'll leave town!" I consider for a second.

"You lead me to Firestorm, and I'll leave you with the van. Lucky you, it looks like it's even got a full tank of gas. Guess it could use a little bit of cleaning, but I'm sure you won't have any trouble staying away from the cops, right?"

"Right! Yeah! Perfect!" he agrees fervently.

"The main hideout's this house just west of town, out West 19th. Uh, 34132 Foxtail Road. He took it over from some dealer, the meth lab's in the basement. He doesn't actually live there, he doesn't tell anyone where he sleeps, but that's where he'll be, everyone's gathering there to leave town. He sent out a few guys he trusts to get some extra cash and cars, made anyone he thinks might ditch stay behind so he can watch 'em."

"Smart choice," I say.

"You seem like a smart guy, so I'm sure you're telling the truth, aren't you?"

"I am, I swear! Fuck Firestorm, he fucking killed Seth! I didn't- I didn't want to tell him about your two friends, but I had to give him something or he would've killed me too! He's gone fucking crazy, Nick tried to leave and he killed him too!" I remind myself that he's my only link to Firestorm. Even if he's probably not lying, I still might need him if his boss isn't where he's supposed to be. So I say, "Of course. Game's over now, so you can stop talking." He stops talking.

After a minute, I roll down my window. The van's starting to reek, and the wind helps cover the sound of his hyperventilating, as well. A few times, he looks like he's about to say something, give me more reasons why I should let him go, but he never quite manages to spit anything out. That's good. If I had to spend the entire drive listening to him try and justify himself, his odds of being alive at the end of it would be slim at best.

There's barely anyone around, but I'm still careful to drive exactly the speed limit; the last thing I want right now is to get pulled over. That makes the trip longer than I'd like it to be, almost twenty minutes. I endure it stoically. I can tolerate my passenger's silent presence for that long in the name of finding the one who sent him.

"Tell me where the turn is," I instruct as the last of the dark suburbs are replaced by open fields. He jumps, but answers.

"Uh, it's like half a mile. Take a left onto Foxtail, and then it'll be a long gravel driveway about a mile after that." I follow the given instructions. Foxtail Road quickly gets up into the hills, winding through dark trees. No one else is on the road.

"The next one on the right. That one, there." The indicated driveway is barred by a simple metal gate decorated with multiple "NO TRESPASSING" signs. I pull in just in front of the gate, blocking the driveway with the van in a way that'll make it hard to get it out. I turn it off, roll my window back up, and after thinking for a moment, I toss the keys into the back of the van with the bodies.

I need to slow him down, stop him from leaving too quick, but I also don't want him to decide he'll have better luck just abandoning the van and trying to hide in the woods.

"Assuming you told the truth, this will be the last time you see me," I say as I open the door and step out.

"I did, I promise! Don't worry, I'm out of here, I won't give you any trouble!" I don't bother responding, just closing the door. I resummon my staff, floating up into the air and hovering above and in front of the van for a few seconds. He won't be able to see me, but my eyesight is sharp enough to see him through the windshield, undoing his seatbelt and struggling into the back of the van rather than opening the door. Good. Not wasting anymore time, I shoot off in the direction of the house.

It's pretty big, almost as big as my parents' house, but also obviously old and not in great shape. There's a dilapidated barn off to one side, and a fenced field that probably held cows or something at some point. The gravel lot in front has multiple cars in it, another full-size van, a minivan, three sedans, and a couple of motorcycles. Most of the windows are lit, and a couple guys are sitting on the porch smoking cigarettes.

This definitely looks like the right spot, but I need to make sure Firestorm's actually here. I float down to the side of the house, peering in the first lit window. The blinds are old and crappy, with gaps in them that let me see through. The first window is in the kitchen, currently deserted. I move on. The third window looks in on a cluttered sitting room, and I hit the jackpot. Firestorm is right there, pacing up and down along the front wall.

Two more guys are sitting around an old wood table with a bag of meth and a couple of pipes, one bouncing his leg and fidgeting nervously, the other chewing at an already bloody hangnail. Satisfied, I flit away, back to the van. It's still off, and I can see my friend just now struggling back into the driver's seat. Perfect. I land lightly on the van's roof; as promised, there's no way he can see me. Then, I extend a gravity field as far as I can, and the van floats into the air.

Muffled screaming and yelling comes from inside. He really should've asked me to be more specific, although it's not like it would've helped him. He was dead the moment he learned my civilian identity, even if I'd bought his sob story. Flying with the van is awkward. My field isn't quite big enough to cover the whole thing, and I can hear it creaking and groaning as it's stressed in directions it wasn't designed for.

It isn't quite balanced, and I need to quickly readjust my field a couple of times to stop the weight of the engine block from causing it to tilt forwards and fall out. Meanwhile, I'm left bobbing awkwardly at the very top of my field, since I'll accelerate up faster than the van as long as my whole body is inside. I wish there was a rack or something on top I could hold on to. Eventually I get it right, and the van slowly gains altitude.

I level off at a couple hundred feet, then start carefully floating it forwards, towards the house. All but invisible against the night sky, neither of the two guys out front notices as the van floats overhead, coming to a stop directly above the house. Carefully, I float to the edge of the van, looking down to make sure I'm exactly where I want to be. Then, I jump up off the van's roof. As soon as I'm out of the gravity field, I reverse its direction.

The van goes rocketing down, accelerating several times faster than it normally would as I move my field with it. It takes barely a second to cover the distance. In that second, the front window of the house explodes outwards as Firestorm hurls himself through it. Interesting; his danger sense alerted him the moment I struck, but not before. Unfortunately for him, the one-second warning doesn't help that much. The van slams into the house like a meteor, and the entire house explodes.

The van's gas tank ignites along with whatever nasty chemicals they were storing in the basement, and maybe some propane or something too. The walls blast outwards, disintegrating into a storm of splinters, and a massive fireball rises up towards me. Firestorm goes tumbling a dozen feet across the driveway, and I make a new gravity field around myself, launching myself towards him. Just before I impact, something makes me throw myself to the side instead.

A moment later, Firestorm's chain-whip lashes out, cracking with a powerful detonation in the spot where I would've been. Huh, so that's what it feels like. I land in a crouch about fifteen feet away from him instead, bracing myself with my free hand. For an instant, we study each other. Firestorm has a few shallow cuts on his arms, and his jacket is a little ripped as well, but it's clearly going to take more than that to put him down.

"Fucking b-" Firestorm starts, but I'm not hear to banter. I create a new gravity field, centered on him and pulling inwards. There's a sense of resistance, like trying to lift something too heavy for me; my magic can't affect him directly. But it can affect everything around him, and a barrage of gravel, splinters, and broken glass launches up off the ground at him from all directions. He swings his whip around in a spiral. A wave of flame and wind follows it, blowing away most of my barrage.

I'm already moving, dashing in as soon as the wave passes me, the gravity field increasing my speed as well. He jumps backwards, trying to stay at the range where his weapon is more effective, swinging it back around towards me. I meet the chain with the blade of my spear. A normal chain would've just wrapped around even if it somehow wasn't cut in half, but the behavior of magical weapons is only loosely related to real physics.

The two weapons meet with a blast of flame and a flash of white light and black un-light. His chain bounces off, entirely deflected. I'm knocked a foot sideways, not enough to force me away. Again, he tries to jump backwards. A gravity field makes the car behind him launch itself into his path. Unlike me, he can't fly, can't change directions in midair. He kicks off the car itself, flipping over it, but it still slows him down. I close the range, my spear extended in a lunge.

He blocks it with his chain, holding it with both hands to draw it taut. Again, there's a burst of opposing magic as the two weapons clash. I don't let up, staying on him as he tries to scramble backwards. Even though I've never actually fought with a spear before, every move is instinctive, each deflection leading into the next slash. He meets me blow for blow, but he's completely on the defensive. His weapon is too slow, he can't strike back without leaving himself open at such close range.

Instead, he attacks with magic alone. Fire blasts out of him, although less intense than when it's accompanied by his whip. I sense the danger and ignore it. The flames wash over me, forcing me to briefly close my eyes, but instead of burning, it feels more like opening a hot oven. It's uncomfortable, maybe even a little painful, but not yet actually harmful. Just like me, his magic alone isn't enough to do real damage.

I've driven him back close to the burning ruin of the house now, and a pile of burning timbers launch themselves at him from behind. He tries to dodge sideways so they'll hit me instead, but my control is too good for that, and they swerve to track him. Reflexively, he cracks his whip, blasting them into splinters. That's a mistake; he should've just taken the less dangerous hit like I did. Before he can bring the chain back into position, I slash low, my blade catching in the upper left leg.

"Fuck!" he screams, but for the first time, my spear encounters something it can't cut straight through. Instead, it leaves a long slash diagonally across his thigh, fairly deep, but probably not lethal even to a regular human. I feel the same sense of resistance as when I tried to use my magic on him directly, but this time there's a little bit of a give to it, a feeling of something starting to come loose. He brings the whip back around, cracking it directly towards me. I block with the haft of my spear.

This time, the impact is enough to knock me back, just a couple of feet, but it takes him out of my range. He quickly takes advantage, immediately striking at me again now that he's at his preferred range. Instead of moving forwards, I dodge back. Since he's already moving back as well, it takes me well out of his range. The car I threw at him earlier is right next to me, so I pick it again. Then I try something new.

The easiest way to use my magic is to make a gravity field that points entirely in a single direction, but I'm not actually limited to that. This time, I create a gravity vortex. The more complicated shape is weaker, but still at least four or five times stronger than Earth's gravity. The car begins spinning around the vertical axis in midair, quickly gaining speed. Firestorm decides it's his turn to go on the offensive, jumping back towards me and slashing his whip.

I jump up and backwards, keeping my gravity field on the car until the last moment. The whip impacts the car and detonates, blasting it to pieces and igniting the gas tank. The pieces keep their momentum. Shrapnel flies in every direction except up, passing well under me. Firestorm, on the other hand, is caught by a flaming barrage of metal, plastic, and glass fragments, some of them a good couple of feet across. A normal human would have been shredded.

Firestorm gets away with a few more relatively shallow cuts, and a few more tears in his jacket. I notice that the cuts from the original explosion have already almost healed even though it's been less than a minute since the fight started. The cut from my spear, on the other hand, is still bleeding freely. It's hard to say for sure, but it seems like the new cuts might be a little deeper than the first set. I don't give him a chance to breath, launching myself forwards with another gravity field.

This time, I stay in the air even as I block his whip, coming at him faster than he can retreat. He throws himself sideways, not quite fast enough. My spear slices into his arm as I shoot by, carving a gash into his bicep. But instead of screaming again, he retaliates, the reason why he chose to try and dodge instead of blocking. My instincts flare a warning, and I try to throw myself out of the way. I'm not fast enough. His whip catches me in the side with an explosion of fire.

Unlike the fire from early, it fucking hurts. I've got some experience with being hit, and this is way worse than that; the only thing I can compare it to is the time I fell almost ten feet out of a tree when I was younger. It knocks the wind out of me, but it hurts on a sort of deeper level, too, damaging something more than just my body. I slam into a tree by the edge of the driveway, barely noticeable in comparison. The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

He immediately tries to press the advantage, dashing towards me. It's a mistake. My side aches like a motherfucker, but nowhere near enough to put me out of the fight. I launch myself off the tree with just my legs, using my magic to throw another car at him. He jumps over it no problem, but now he's committed. I leap forwards, deflecting the next strike from his whip. He lands and immediately tries to jump back to keep the distance open, but I bring the car back around, blocking his retreat.

Again, I close to melee range. He blocks my first stab, but only just. His injured arm doesn't hinder him as much as it would a normal human, he can still use it, but it's a little slower, a little weaker. Another slash, deflected. Another, deflected. A stab. His guard breaks. My spear slips through, grazing his uninjured arm and cutting a shallower wound into his shoulder. The lunge leaves me slightly overextended, but I'm too close for him to effectively use his whip. Instead, he roundhouse kicks me.

It's not nearly as painful as the strike from his actual weapon, but it catches right in the same spot, so it still hurts. I'm knocked back several feet, wincing, but I get my spear up in time to block the next slash from his whip. He jumps away again, but this time it's not a maneuver to try and keep his preferred distance. This time, it's a full retreat, heading for the woods. I'm not sure if he realizes how much faster I am than him or if he's just too desperate to care, but it doesn't really matter.

I launch myself into the air, quickly overtaking him from above. As I approach, he turns, trying to fend me off with a wild slash from his whip. It cleaves straight through a pair of trees in a spray of splinters, but I just drift slightly up and out of range. As soon as the whip passes, I dart in. He has time for one more slash, but it's awkward and weak, easily deflected. I close the distance. This time, with both arms injured, he fails to block my lunge.

My spear punches into the left edge of his stomach, piercing all the way through his body. He staggers back with a scream, and I feel something break. Acting on instinct, I thrust my hand forwards. The gravity field slams him back into a tree hard enough to crack the trunk. It cracks his motorcycle helmet, too. Instead of immediately springing off, he slips down and slumps to the ground at the base of the tree. A wave of white light washes over him, taking his costume with it. I'm left staring at… a kid.

He looks younger than me, not even sixteen yet. He's got short brown hair, and he's wearing a baggy black band t-shirt and jeans, both of which are rapidly being stained red. He looks utterly terrified. Raising a hand, he tries to speak, but instead just coughs up blood. For a moment, I feel a spark of sympathy. Then I remember what he's responsible for. So instead of doing anything else, I lean down and give him a vicious, toothy grin.

"Hey, how'd you like my private show?" His eyes widen in recognition. A second later, my spear bisects him diagonally. His upper chest slides off the rest of his torso, both halves of his body slumping to the ground. One hand opens, and a red marble around an inch across rolls out. I bend down and pick it up. It's just glass, or something like it, with no power flickering in its depths. Dead, just like him. I let my spear blade fade away.

I stand there holding the dead talisman for a minute, breathing in the scent of smoke and blood, and I feel… Alive. More alive than I've ever felt before. The adrenaline, the thrill of the fight, the sweetness of victory, it's like lightning in my veins. Nothing can compare to this, not performing, not even ecstasy. It's every bit as incredible as I always dreamed it would be, and it's dangerous. How many people did I kill, tonight? More than ten, I know for a fact. Twenty? More?

Even if I were to search through the house, I doubt I'd be able to tell for sure how many people had been inside when I blew it up. I try to muster up a shred of guilt. That would be a normal thing to feel right now, wouldn't it? But all I can find is vague satisfaction that they've paid for threatening the people I care about, that they'll never be able to do it again. I'm… fairly sure I'm not actually a psychopath, although how would I really even know? Do I enjoy hurting people? I don't think I do.

Certainly the thought of hurting anyone I care about horrifies me, and I would never hurt some random innocent person just for fun. It's more that… That when I put someone into the category of "threat," I subconsciously remove them from the category of "person." I nod slightly; that feels right. It's something I'll have to watch, but I'm not sure if I'd even consider it a flaw. After all, Cassie, Jess, or David all could have easily died if I'd flinched. Fighting, though, a real fight with a peer…

That, there's no question I enjoy. Already, I can't help but anticipate the next fight, consider my possible opponents. How long will it be until I can match Huntsman? Until I can match Dynamic and his team? How strong are Obsidian and Barracuda compared to Firestorm? Could I take them right now? Will I ever get to fight the strongest magicals in the country, Surtr, Tempest, Black Panther, even Sparkle Princess? I'm going to have to be careful, make sure I don't dive into more trouble than I can handle.

The sound of approaching sirens eventually breaks me out of my reverie. I glance quickly around, considering if I want to clean anything up. I decide not to. Whatever cash the Wildfire Boys had is probably ash, it's not worth digging through the wreckage to see if anything's left. The cops can find Firestorm's body, announce he's dead. They'll almost certainly blame it on the Columbia Syndicate, at least for now.

I jump into the air, flying up through the trees and then turning back towards town, leaving the site of my first victory behind. I consider the fight itself as I fly, what I learned from it. I understand now, why the only reliable way to harm a magical is with a magical weapon. Our magic protects us from everything, blunts all incoming damage no matter the source, but it can be overwhelmed with enough force even from conventional weapons.

A bullet couldn't kill me, but a grenade might be able to if I just stood right next to it for some reason. A bomb or a missile definitely could. Magical weapons aren't just powerful, though; they damage the protection itself. Each hit you take leaves you more vulnerable to the next, and to damage from other sources as well. Take enough hits, and the protection breaks completely, and even your transformation itself. I can still feel a slight sense of lingering fragility from the one hit I took, slowly fading.

That doesn't mean my magic is useless for offense, though. Magicals aren't quite completely immune to the laws of physics. Throwing a car at a magical might not hurt them much, but it'll still knock them over. And, of course, mobility is never to be underestimated. I just wish I had someone to actually train with; even with the instincts granted by my powers, fighting in three full dimensions is something I'm going to need to practice. The flight isn't long, just a couple of minutes.

I don't have any trouble finding Jess and David's house from the air anymore, and I land in their backyard. I hesitate for a moment, then decide to drop my transformation. They'll probably want to see it again, but better to let them ask. I knock on the back door as well, even though I live here. Maybe I'm being a little overly apprehensive, but, well… this is a lot for them to take in. Cassie's the one to open the door.

"Welcome back," she says.

"See? I told you she had it handled, no problem." Jess and David are sitting on the couch, with actual mugs of coffee on the coffee table for once. They look both relieved and nervous.

"I'm glad you're okay," says Jess.

"You are okay, right?"

"Hm? Oh." I glance down at the sizeable bruise on my side, already fading but still clearly visible thanks to my crop top.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Firestorm managed to land a hit on me, but it'll probably be gone by morning. Thanks, though."

"So… I guess you won, then? You… you killed him?" asks David.

"I killed him." I'm still carrying his talisman, so I hold up it up for everyone to see.

"Oh, nice, you got his talisman? Can I see?" asks Cassie.

"Sure." I pass it to her. She holds it up and examines it.

"It's not all sparkly like yours. I guess cause he's dead?"

"Probably."

"Oh well, it's still a cool trophy. So tell me about the fight!" David clears his throat.

"I'd, uh, like to ask a few questions first, if you don't mind."

"That's fine. I figured you would. Don't worry, Cassie, I'll come by and tell you about it tomorrow."

"Aww, fine." I sit down on the couch across from them, and so does she.

"Alright, go head," I say. David runs a hand through his hair.

"Well, Cassie's told us most of the story. I… I guess I can't say I'm totally happy you hid all this, but I can't really blame you for it, either. We're both grateful for what you did, exposing yourself to save us, but… I mean, we're criminals, but we're not killers. Never wanted to be, hoped we'd never need to be. What happened tonight was… It was really just a lot. So I guess the first thing I need to ask is, what are you gonna do now?"

"Honestly? I'm not sure," I reply.

"I've kinda been flying under the radar so far, and it's worked out pretty well. I could keep doing that. I probably will keep doing that at least to some degree, even if I do decide to get a little more active. But if you're asking if I'm planning on killing a bunch more people, picking a fight with Surf 'n Turf right away or something, then no, I'm definitely not."

"That's… good to hear," says David, nodding.

"That isn't something we'd want to be part of. I'm sure you know Cassie wants you to start your own gang. Do you think you will?"

"If I did, would you want to join?" He chews on his lip for a minute.

"That's a tough question. Joining a gang is definitely something we've tried to avoid. We've always known that if we stay in the business, eventually someone will find us and force us to join. The best we hoped for was that it'd be the Columbia Syndicate. But, you know, even if we know for a fact now that they're the best of the bunch, it's not like they'd offer us a choice. To them, the most valuable thing we can offer is our customer base, our connections.

They'd supply us with harder shit and expect us to sell it. We'd probably make more money than we do now even after they take their cut, but it's still not the way we wanna live. We're fine just growing weed, only breaking out the expensive shit for the occasional party. I don't wanna watch junkies slowly ruin their lives with our product week after week. So… if we did join this hypothetical gang of yours, could we write our own ticket? Just stick to what we're doing now, pretty much?

Maybe expand a little, but not too much?"

"Yeah, of course. You guys have helped me out a ton, I'm not gonna force you to do anything you don't want to."

"I figured," says David, nodding.

"You struck me as a decent person right from the start, and… Well, it wouldn't be right to hold killing those guys against you when you did it to save our asses, and nothing else I've seen has changed my first impression. We'll have to talk it over, but the truth is, there's pretty much no way we're ever gonna get a better offer than this."

"Well, I don't know shit about running a gang or selling drugs," I say.

"I just saw firsthand what happens to a gang led by an idiot who doesn't know what he's doing. If I did start a gang right now, I'd be leaning on you guys pretty hard for basically everything at first. So… Really, it's up to you. If you guys are in, I'll do it. If not, I'm sure I can figure something else out."

"I hope you don't feel like this is something you need to do for our sake," says Jess.

"No, totally not. This is…" I shrug.

"I mean, fuck it, let's just be honest here. I like to party, I like getting high, I wanna keep doing it. With my own gang, I could host a rave every weekend. If I can do that and keep you guys safe at the same time, it seems like a win-win to me." Cassie lets out a cackle next to me.

"See? Knew you'd get there eventually." David chuckles as well.

"I've definitely heard worse motivations." There's a moment of silence.

"Well, like David said, we'll definitely need to talk about this. Need to get in bed soon anyway, or I'm just gonna pass out on the couch even with the coffee. But… I think we can probably work something out. For now, though, I'm just glad everyone's safe. Why don't we call it here for tonight? I still need to take Cassie home, and I don't wanna fall asleep on the way back."

"I can take Cassie home, if you want," I offer.

"Oh, um… I mean, I guess you obviously know how to drive, so…"

"Oh, I don't need to borrow your car, I can just fly." I can't help but grin. They both stare at me for a moment. Eventually, Jess huffs a laugh.

"Fuck, this is gonna take some getting used to. Yeah, sure, as long as Cassie's fine with it, then that works great."

"I'm fine with it," says Cassie.

"Well, uh… If it's okay, can we see your costume again before you go?" asks Jess.

"And, um, what do we call you, by the way?"

"Yeah, when are you finally gonna pick a name for yourself, dumbass?" asks Cassie. I shrug.

"I was waiting to make my public debut, but I guess I pretty much did." I have actually been thinking about my name plenty, with a few different ideas depending on which route I ended up going. If I'm actually going to start a gang, I need something very distinct from my civilian persona, something you wouldn't associate with a raver girl. Something understated, a little mysterious, a little ominous. I stand, and then I transform.

This time, I focus on the transformation, hold it partway instead of just letting it happen. I find myself back in that space of abstract colors and shapes where I first crafted my costume. I won't be able to stay here long without Virgo's help, but I only want to make a small change. A moment later, I'm back in the living room, now in full costume. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window, confirming that it changed how I want.

Where before my hair had been held back by a simple silver pin, now I have a much more elaborate ornament. Three silver bands go around my bun: a thin one right at the base, a larger and thicker one around the middle, and another thin one near the top. A narrow silver ellipse sticks out from the middle ring, about three inches on both sides. As intended, it evokes the image of a black hole surrounded by an accretion disk. I nod slightly in satisfaction.

"Call me Schwarzschild."