All that showboating just to get that ass beat🥊🥊🥊 However, he did hype the match.

They both got big bags oh. Ohhhh my, that King Anthony Joshua

Beau isn't certain what happiness looks like. 

At least, that's what he always thought. What he told himself. Maybe if he had looked a little harder, he would have found it there in all the little moments. Between his hand and someone else's-- someone important. In promises for the future he was never actually certain he could keep.

In his fist, when he returns a punch thrown with a smile. In his other fist, when he lightly bumps it against someone else's knuckles. In homemade meals and gifts and winning and losing and trading insults he doesn't mean. In sharing drinks, sharing memories, sharing himself. 

It dawns on him, of course, that none of this is due to a star or any elaborate plans or any magic wishes.

He didn't need magic when he balanced on the balls of his feet to show Seung-jae exactly how he felt. When he held Tegan's hand for the first time. He didn't need magic when he pushed Ryan out of the way of certain death, knowing exactly how it would end. He didn't need it when he dragged Keith out of his room and berated a bit of life back into one of the coolest people he's ever known. No magic when he found the strength to forgive Ben and-- far more importantly-- to forgive himself. None when he headbutted Armando in the nose or when he showed Yui what he thought would be one final act of kindness. 

(He might need a little magic to finally get Fio to admit that they're friends, but all in due time.) 

And even now, standing here in front of what can only be described as two actual, real-life monsters-- 

Beau is certain he doesn't need magic. 

Still, it can't hurt. 

There's only one thing he wants. One thing he's always wanted. 

"Give me the strength I need to keep them safe. All of them." 

The good guys always win. The bad guys always lose. 

This is the thought that echoes in Beau's mind as he feels that fire burn around him. Not scalding, but warm. Pleasant. Flickering and dancing from somewhere deep inside him. And as his colorful windbreaker burns away to show off a shiny, new hot pink spandex suit... Beau is happy, for possibly the first time in over a decade, to call himself a hero. 

"Captain Custard isn't really supposed to kill. Network rules, yanno?" 

He smirks, crossing his arms. 

"It's a good thing, then, that I gave up that name a long time ago. And, seriously, fuck the Network." 

Beau takes off the translucent mask shielding his eyes and tosses it aside. He doesn't need it. In fact, he's thoroughly done with masks now. 

"Get it? My name is Beau McAllister. Not Captain Custard. Not Showman. And this--" 

He gestures to the suit and, finding it just a little bit lacking, snaps his fingers and sparks a flowing cape behind his shoulders. 

"Well. I guess it's just who I am, after all."

This is it, then. The battle. The climax. The final boss. The ending-- the Good End-- is just on the other side. And he isn't scared. Not even a little bit. Because the good guys always win. 

And Beau McAllister does his own stunts, after all. 

He'll do this. He'll win. And he'll get to the other side with everyone (almost everyone) that's important to him. 

And, the rest? All the promises and plans and goals for the future? 

He won't need wishes or magic for that.

For now, though... 

With one swift, deft motion, Beau unhooks the yo-yo from his belt. He lets the string unfurl to the ground before tossing it back up into his hand.