#sky high

This was a horrible way to start lunch.

Of course, the one day that you need to stay back and talk to Mr. Keldron about your essay revisions, Will, your darling brother that you hate so fucking much, decides to pick a fight with his “pre-determined archenemy” like a jackass. 

And what do you walk into? 

Half the cafeteria’s on fire, everyone watching as Will Stronghold cowers underneath a lunch table, with Warren Peace standing above him, asking for a fight. One that Will certainly can’t win. 

“Where’s your sidekicks, sidekick?” 

Upon seeing your friends confront Warren’s taunt, with an ill-placed loyalty to Will, your stomach dropped. And it sunk even further when Warren didn’t hesitate to crack more flames across his arms, holding it above his head, ready to hurl at them. 

In the nicest way possible, only one of them, Layla, would be able to hold their own against someone like him. 

You hurriedly pushed through the crowd, nearly slipping on Ethan’s puddle as you rushed to the front. Zach shrunk behind you almost immediately, a habit he’s had since childhood that you couldn’t blame him for. It made you want to be a hero, and it made you feel like a hero. 

But you didn’t want either of those things right now. 

Because that would mean there was someone that needed saving, from something evil, and you hated where that evil was coming from. 

Your breath hitched as you locked eyes with Warren. 

The fury in his gaze sent a chill down your spine. It wavered for a split second as the two of you stared at each other, but the anger forced itself to the front like always. 

And just as a hazing levitation was wrapping around your body, ready to do something about whatever was going on here, the universe finally threw Will a bone. 

“Leave her alone!” Will shouted, struggling for a few seconds. 

He did it. 

He lifted the table above his head. 

Holy shit. His powers finally manifested. 

The thing that he wanted for so long, the source of so much insecurity, alighting his face with triumph, and you wanted to be happy for him. But at the expense of fighting someone, your friend no less, putting his entire future in jeopardy? You begged him not to do something stupid.

Will tossed the table aside, and you flinched as Warren ricocheted off the ceiling. The sharp crack that echoed through the cafeteria made your stomach churn, the sound of Warren’s body crashing into a lunch table making you cover your mouth in horror. 

He could have been severely hurt, and Will didn’t seem to care.

All he seemed to revel in was the crowd that erupted into cheers. 

“Now, who tripped me?” Will asked, his new strength filling him with an unsettling bravado. Lash and Speed exchanged nervous glances.

“Will, that’s enough,” you said sharply, stepping closer, hoping to pull him back before things spiraled.

Lash and Speed took the opportunity to escape, leaving Will standing “victorious”. 

“Stronghold!”

A little relief washed over you when Warren stood up from the destroyed lunch table with relatively no struggle, but it was short lived.

Warren bursts into flames again, and Will turns to him, his confidence plummeting as he awkwardly shifts into something of a fighting stance. He had no idea what he was doing.

Warren charges toward him again, quickly being punched into a wall, and you didn’t like how little effort it took Will to do so. 

“WILL! STOP!” you cried out, desperate to end this before he did something he couldn’t take back.

He shoved you off as you took hold of his arm, hard. Hard enough to almost knock you over. Your chest tightened, but the betrayal stung more. 

Will had never done anything like that before. Well, he never had the strength to do so. But it hurt.

“What?” he barked, grinning wide, too high on adrenaline to recognize what he had done. “Isn’t this awesome?!”

“You’re gonna get expelled!”

Ethan and Zach high-fived him, as if he did something worth celebrating. Your skin crawled with unease as Warren stepped into the cafeteria again, shaking off some of the drywall and dust that covered him.

“Think I can’t take a hit?!” Warren yelled gruffly, the anger burning hotter in his eyes. 

The flames that shot out of his arms seemed to fill the room with a stifling heat, one that scared you more than you’d like to admit. 

Warren wasn’t done, neither was Will, and no one was stopping this. Despite Mr. Boy’s swift attempt to find someone more qualified to step in. 

In a cruel irony, this was a fight where you knew exactly what to do. 

The easiest resolution you could come to was diffusing the fight, which you had powers to make that easy, with the right amount of strength. Which you knew you didn’t have, but there was no other willing participant and no other options.

You let out a tense breath as Warren started running towards the two of you, choking out an apology as you held out your hand towards him. 

Your powers required a lot of concentration along with physical strength, and you needed all of it to pull this off. Jaw clenched taut, hand already shaking, standing alone as everyone else ran away, you slowly formed a Hold around Warren’s body and lifted him off the ground. 

His face dropped, his flames dissolving in an instant as panic flickered in his eyes. The weight was unbearable, it felt like you were holding two of him over your head, but you held on. You had to.

You slowly turn to Will, holding out your other hand and forming a Hold around him too, adding just enough gravity to keep him in one place. 

The ability to breathe was becoming a luxury sadly. Your brain scrambled less if you held your breath, but the panic of what the fuck you were doing made you hyperventilate when you finally took in a new breath. 

The feeling of your muscles teetering on giving out wasn’t on the painful side of your powers, it was just on the side that you had to grit your teeth through and hope for the best. Hold it as long as possible. Luckily, you were dealing with precious cargo, so your motivation was easy to source. 

The only time you’ve ever rivaled this feeling was when you failed a rep lifting weights with your dad. Your muscles were so weak and strained that you laid on the bench, your arms wobbling as you struggled to lift the bar even a millimeter. 

It was anxiety-inducing that you were actually lifting people now. 

“Let go of me!” Will snarled, his glare burning into you.

And when you didn’t instantly comply with his demand, he got angrier. He fought harder against your powers, thrashing without a care in the world for the consequences.

A scalding pain ripped through your body as he broke the Hold you formed around him. One that dyed a vignette in your vision and echoed your screams through the room. 

When a Hold is broken, it bursts your blood cells in the affected areas instantly. Due to the force, your veins start to bruise, and it all starts slowly traveling back to your heart from the moment of impact. And given that you can be fighting twice the amount of weight in some cases, having that turned back against you in the span of seconds makes this process go fast and makes it deadly. 

Will, of all people, knew he wasn’t supposed to do that. But he did it anyway. 

You grabbed onto a nearby table as you almost fell to your knees, making sure to keep Warren off the ground. As you wedged your arm onto the surface, a clipped sob fell from your lips, barely able to force your feet underneath you. 

Your blood felt as though it was going to rupture through your skin, and it made contracting your muscles all the more excruciating. And the fear of knowing there were elements from your cells threading through your bloodstream that could kill you if you didn’t put an end to this, it was hard not to give up. 

The betrayal, the pain, the sadness, all of it, flipped, into a rage that you couldn’t keep a lid on.  

As you finally managed to look Will in the eye, staring daggers through your bleary vision, his smugness dropped. 

Your entire body shook, and somehow you had enough sanity to focus all your remaining energy on your idiot brother. Weakly, you raised a few of your fingers laying on the table in front of you, the black lines flooding across your skin pulsing with an eerie, red glow. You focused on each part of Will’s body individually until he was frozen in place, and with a raw, tired voice, you spat a deeply sarcastic “sorry, Will” and closed your fist as fast as you could. 

Will slammed forward onto the ground, his jaw ricocheting off the linoleum, the sound of it rising pained groans from the onlookers who stuck around to watch. You tried to put enough gravity to not injure him too badly, but you weren’t exactly trying to be gentle, either. 

You trembled as you stood, needing the table as you nearly fell again. You were honestly surprised you were still conscious. 

The arm that was holding Warren in the air was starting to run cold, your blood unable to cycle to your finger tips. The dark bruising climbed higher through your veins as you held Will on the ground, only adding to the underlying terror that ran through you as your lungs crapped out every other breath. 

The sound of heels approaching was your God-given solace, Principal Powers rushing in panicked.

“That’s enough, Miss Stronghold,” she said softly, her hands forming over your shoulders.

Your breath stuttered as you held Will’s gaze, watching as he glared back. As if you did something wrong. You let Warren down as gently as your shaking body allowed, but just as he was a few feet from the tile, your body finally caved in on itself. 

You whimpered as Warren fell, seemingly fine as he stumbled for his footing. 

And like the amazing friend he always was, Zach was quick to catch you before you collapsed to the ground completely. 

He looped your arm over his shoulder, Principal Powers helping the effort to guide you to a seat as quickly as possible. Layla knelt beside you as tears started to run down your face, holding your hand in hers as you started sobbing. 

That was some of the worst pain in your entire life, and the fact that your brother was the one mostly responsible for it made you cry even harder. You whine as everything starts to hit you, leaning into Layla as she hugs you.

“Is it bad? Is she gonna be okay?” Zach choked, looking for hope as Principal Powers looked over your arm.

You attempt to look through your tearfilled eyes, scanning the room for Warren. He stood in the same exact place you left him, staring at you with a metric ton of guilt. 

He was safe. That was all that mattered to you. 

“I’m not sure, we need to move her, now,” Principal Powers ordered. “Boomer!”

The aforementioned gym teacher appeared through the hole in the wall and ran over, gently taking you into his arms and screaming for the crowd to split. 

The lunch room buzzed with shock as Will and Warren were led away, Layla grabbing your backpack and following behind Boomer, along with Zach, Magenta, and Ethan, all of them trying to reassure your worries. You had great friends. 

The trek to the nurse’s office felt endless, but when you finally laid onto the stiff bed, it felt like a cloud. You curled up into a ball instantly, quietly crying as Layla ran her hand through your hair. Surprisingly, Boomer was nice enough to let her stay while Nurse Spex sprung into action, forcing the rest of your friends back to class.  

While it wasn’t the worst it’s ever been, there was still a lingering lethality to what was happening to you internally. The fastest thing to stabilize your condition was to draw your blood with the burst cells to prevent them from further cycling back to your heart, preventing cardiac arrest. No pressure. 

Layla held your free hand as Nurse Spex started the IV, the contaminated blood flowing out as you held your arm still. You guessed you’d only need to give a pint, which you would gladly take over the gallon you had given before. 

And after that was all said and done, Nurse Spex handed you the emergency doses of pain killers and sleep meds they kept in case of emergencies, along with a cup of water, gently reminding Layla that it’d be best if she went back to class. 

Layla left hesitantly, her voice soft as she promised to come over as soon as she could. 

You nodded weakly, taking the pills and swallowing as much water as you could manage. The last thing you heard was the lights flicking off, exhaustion consuming you as the sleep aids finally took effect. 

You hoped you could at least dream of something, anything, but all your mind focused on was the lingering ache. Even with the painkillers starting to dull the worst of it, the strain clung to you, heavy and unrelenting.

Will was so stupid for getting into a fight at school. He should have never entertained it in the first place. And to be so dense as to not consider his opponent? You always take everything into consideration, because there’s a line that superheroes don’t cross, and it’s your responsibility to do everything in your power to make sure of it. 

He could have killed Warren. He’s lucky Warren could take some serious blows. 

You were afraid this was exactly what he would turn into once he got his powers. You had hoped and prayed he got flight or some random power from your lineage, because he couldn’t handle the ego that comes with having super strength. 

But that wasn’t what scared you the most. 

Warren. 

You hated having to use your powers on him. You tried your best not to subject people to it if they were unwilling, it was the courteous thing to do. 

And when you ran in, when you saw him standing there, a massive fireball crackling in his hands, you had frozen. For the first time, you looked at him and hesitated. You hated that, so much.

You stirred when someone whispered your name, the sound pulling you from the edges of unconsciousness. Your eyelids felt like lead as you forced them open, wincing at the painful crunch of exhaustion weighing you down. As your vision focused, you realized the person sitting in front of you was…Warren. 

For a moment, you thought you were dreaming. 

You blinked a few times to be sure, but he didn’t disappear. His jaw clenched as you locked eyes, fresh tears brimming in his own. Your stomach twisted. 

You knew how you looked. 

Depending on how long you’ve been asleep, you could have started to show signs of jaundice. The bruising was going to show under your skin for a week at minimum. You still struggled to breathe fully, barely able to move. 

You shifted slightly, furrowing your brows. 

“I thought…you had detention,” you murmured, voice raw. 

Warren nodded, his gaze darting away as a tear slid down his cheek. 

His shoulders curled inward, small in a way that felt wrong on him. Like a child waiting to be scolded. He wasn’t acting like the confident and brave guy that you knew him to be. 

“I had to apologize,” he whispered. His voice was soft, barely audible. 

You shook your head, wincing at the sharp twinge of pain from the action. “It’s not your fault.” 

His lips pressed into a thin line, another tear slipping down his face

“You wouldn’t have gotten hurt if I hadn’t-” 

“Warren.” Your voice cut through the air, firmer than you thought you could manage. You weakly lifted a hand to get his attention, waiting until he looked at you before continuing. “It’s not your fault.” 

His eyes flickered with something unreadable, the tears still fresh on his eyelashes.

“Well…regardless, I’m sorry.” He was quiet, and as his mouth opened, like he wanted to say something, something important, he swallowed it down. Whatever it was, it hung between you both, thick as smoke. 

“Is Will alright?” you asked, somehow still caring for your dumbass brother. 

“If a giant bruise on his jaw is alright, then yeah, he’s peachy.”

“He’ll be alright,” you gruffed, stretching your legs out. “I think you went easy on him,” Warren whispered, earnest. 

“Let’s just tag team him next time, he’ll be too scared,” you half-joked, laying on your back. “I still expect your full effort in CNW, by the way.” 

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Yeah, full effort in getting my ass handed to me.” 

You let out a quiet chuckle, only to cough as the movement sent a jolt through your chest. Warren sat up straight, panicked for a moment. When you relaxed, so did he. 

“I’m sorry I used my powers on you,” you whispered, your voice still raw, turning towards him more. 

He shook his head. “You did what you had to do.” He hesitated, then added. “If it makes you feel better…I thought it was kinda cool.” 

You snorted, smiling a little wider. You really didn’t want Warren to be beating himself down over something that he didn’t do. It spoke volumes that he was the one in here, not Will.

Warren’s gaze moved to the bandage on your damaged arm, then the pint of blood that had a “HAZARD” label on it. 

“It’s contaminated,” you whispered, which made him cock one of his eyebrows. “It’s gotta be destroyed.”

Before Warren could ask why, he was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Principal Powers stood in the doorway, a soft smile on her face. Warren sighed, knowing his time was up and he needed to leave. 

But before he did, his fingers curled gently around your forearm, thumb running along your skin. God, the warmth was grounding. 

“Get some rest,” he murmured, giving your arm a light squeeze. You nodded weakly. 

He gave you one last lingering look before stepping away, offering a sad, lopsided smile as he left. 

The last thing you remembered before you passed out again was Nurse Spex coming to tell you that your dad was on his way to pick you up. You were grateful for that, at least. 

You figured you weren’t asleep for long, but with the meds and pure exhaustion, you really couldn’t tell. Your dad was still in his Commander suit when you finally opened your eyes. He was very clearly angry, but trying to cover it up for your sake. 

“Hey, honey,” he whispered, forcing a smile as you woke up. “How’s my little girl feeling?”

“Horrible,” you grumbled out, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to remove the strain. 

“Understandable,” he said flatly, helping you sit up as Nurse Spex came to join you.

She filled your dad on the events of that afternoon, and the deep seated anger twisted further and further in his gaze. You assumed she opened with the fact that you got hurt when she called him earlier, maybe tacked on to the fact that Will had gotten detention for fighting at school afterwards. Given by the tension that rose in his shoulders when he learned that Will was the person responsible for causing your injury, he was more than pissed, but he kept up a good act. 

Your dad happily carried you out of the school, cradled in his arms and he tried to keep himself composed. He left his jet pack in the middle of the courtyard, too concerned with you to care where he parked it. 

You were going in and out of sleep, the wind impact keeping you awake for most of the flight home. 

Laying in your bed when you finally did get back felt heavenly. You took for granted how amazing your mattress was, but never again.

After getting you just about everything you needed, including your favorite soup, your dad lightly grilled you. 

“Can you tell me what happened?”

You bit on the inside of your cheek as you looked up at him, contemplating just turning your face into your pillows and pretending you’re too tired. But, you knew the truth deserved its time, and Will was going to be seriously grounded. You were more than willing to be a snitch, he deserved it.

“Will got his powers at lunch today,” you started, your dad’s posture stiffening. “He started fighting one of our classmates, and it was getting bad, so I stepped in and stopped it, and that’s when Will broke the Hold I had put on him.”

Your dad’s face was unreadable for a while, taking in everything. Eventually, he leaned down, pressed a kiss to your forehead, and tucked your covers tighter. 

“I’m really proud of you,” he told you genuinely, squeezing your hand in his. “Even if your brother wasn’t the perpetrator, I know you would have broken that fight up regardless, because it’s the right thing to do.” 

He takes in a long breath, steadying some of the frustration trying to break through.

“You are already turning out to be a fine young hero, and I’m sorry your brother isn’t quite there yet.” 

You shrug your shoulders, half smirking at him as you squeeze his hand back. “He’s only had his powers for half a day.” 

He barely smirks back, nodding. 

“Well, I hope he’s having fun with them, because when he comes home, he is royally grounded…” your dad trails off, looking down at his watch. “I’m letting your mom take care of that.” 

You grimace on Will's behalf, knowing all too well what kind of reprimanding would be waiting for him when he came home. 

Your mom had a cruel way with words. Most people would think your dad had the iron fist of the family, but when it came to issues between you and Will, your mom was all over it. Always has been. 

When she found out what happened today? What Will did to you? You’d be surprised if he could leave the house by Christmas. 

Your dad eventually left you to pass out, sleep everything off. Very much needed. 

More often than not, the meds that you took for power-related symptoms gave you fever-like dreams. Luckily, this was one of the instances that it was just nothing. More like skipping through time. 

You just barely forced one of your eyes open when Layla’s voice softly drifted through the air. 

She was kneeling in front of you, arms resting on your bed with a warm smile on her face, Magenta sitting crosslegged by your feet. 

With a long inhale, you finally rolled over, rubbing your eyes past the acceptable amount as Layla asks how you’re feeling.

“Meds kicked in for sure,” you languidly replied, happy that the pain was pretty much non-existent now. “Just have to look like a freak for a bit.”

“You don’t look like a freak,” Magenta quickly added, much to the huff of annoyance you hurled back. 

“Are you feeling up for a movie in the backyard?” Layla asked, seeming eager but cautious. 

“Will’s not here, is he?” you grumbled, pushing hair out of your face. 

“I think they got four hours of detention,” Magenta clarified, chuckling as Layla raised her eyebrows in shock. “Seems light for destroying the cafeteria.”

The three of you chuckle to yourselves before Zach’s voice shrills up the staircase, begging for Layla’s help on setting the projector up. She just rolls her eyes, yelling after him to keep his voice down due to your sensitive state, making you smirk. 

Magenta glances over her shoulder to make sure Layla was far out of ear shot before she spoke again. 

“Complicated crush you have, huh?”

You huff out a weak laugh, shaking your head at her antics. 

“Well, unlike Will, he actually managed the courage to apologize,” you remarked, still angry with your brother. 

“Over text?”

“No, he came to see me in the nurses office,” you told her, cringing as her face dropped. 

“Okay, let me get this straight,” she started, crawling to lay next to you on your mattress. “Warren somehow got out of detention just to see you, and say he was sorry, and you don’t think he has a thing for you?”

“He just felt bad, he was pretty upset over it.” 

“He has a crush on you,” she stated, as if it was fact, and all this evidence was lining up perfectly for her. 

“It’s normal to cry over sad shit, it’s not that deep-” you began, quickly cut off. 

“What!?” Mag asked as she snapped her head to look at you. “He cried?”

You instantly regretted saying anything. 

“You made the Warren Peace cry?” she asked, much too loudly. 

“He just felt bad,” you insisted. 

“For the girl he has a crush on,” she tacks on, smiling nearly ear to ear.

You just shake your head again, groaning as you slowly sit up, Magenta getting up to offer you her hand as you try to stand up.  

“He did WHAT?!” You and Mag made eye contact as your mom’s scream rang through the house, a wry smile forming on your face. 

“Will is so fucked.” 

“I know I must've crushed your childhood illusions when they locked me up. Believe me, that was never what I wanted for our family. I wanted you to look up to me, to see me save people and protect the city. Every dad wants their kid to think of them as a hero, and I tried to be that for you, I swear.” Barron breathed deeply, trying to keep his emotions at bay. “I did everything I could for us, Renie. You see, I was an absolute failure back in school. I got good enough grades, yeah, but I never really achieved anything of my own. I used to think I was never gonna get a real future, let alone a real family.” He chuckled. “So when your mother married me, I wasn't going to mess it up. I was ready. I grew up, did my part, and soon we had the family, the house, the dog, and- sure, I did some mischief here and there, but it was never anything harmful to anyone. Mostly, I tried my best to be a good dad.” His eyes twinkled with nostalgia as he reminisced. 

“And I was a good supe for the Agency too. I got in trouble once or twice for blowing stuff up while on missions -which kind of gave me a rep-, but it was never serious fires, and they were always away from people. The suspensions from duty always gave me time to spend with you anyway, so I always kept using my powers for fun at work, when I could. All in all, life and work were fun back then.” He remembered with a smile, which faded quickly as he kept talking. 

“That, until my last mission. I got called to check out an old building in the middle of the small town of Grimbrook, and potentially take someone in — a random villain. It was nothing new. I had scouted many places before that in similar ops; it was always the kind of mission that was mostly for recon, and to apprehend one or two people that were in the scheming phase of their grand plans, but that one last time…the place was full when I showed up; the Agency usually sent full teams for that. 

“It was a small base, and I managed to render the people inside unconscious, but when I got outside towards the back of the base there was…more, and not just people. A dozen scientists were surrounding this huge thing that I immediately assumed to be a weapon. I was gonna light it up right away, but this person came up to me and started talking, explaining their plans.” Barron spoke rapidly, as if wanting to get through the story as quickly as possible. “She wanted me to listen, so I did. She said she had a way of cleansing the world of evil, and that she only had to push a button to achieve world peace. Sounds great on paper, but then she started explaining how she was going to do it, and I realised she meant to murder thousands using her giant machine, so… I did what I thought was best and- well, I blew it all up. 

“I aimed for the machine and sent fire towards it before Nichols's sidekicks could use it. They got close to doing so, too, but my fire was quicker.” Barron explained with sorry eyes. “At the time, I didn't know exactly how the machine worked, nor that it shot rays, nor what it was powered by. Nichols had been vague during the brief moment she tried to win me over, what she told me wasn't anything extensive. Even so, I had an inkling that if I blew the machine up, it would explode. I admit to that. I knew, and still I blew it up, because the math said it all. Nichols was going to murder thousands. Thousands, son. Whatever aftermath the explosion from the machine was going to have, it was going to be substantially less than the number of people she was going to take out in the long run. That's what I told myself in the few seconds I had to consider everything. And that's what I've tried to live with ever since. That at the end of the day, the couple hundred people that died after the explosion are still less than what she would've killed if I would’ve given her the chance.” Barron explained his rationalisation, which came out almost out of inertia after all the years he had spent retelling himself the same. 

The group was eerily silent. Shocked, empathetic, and somber expressions looked back at him when Barron searched for their reactions. When his eyes landed on Warren, his son was looking at him intently and with deep sorrow. Barron was quick to clarify. “Ren, I'm not asking for your pity. That's not why I'm telling you this story.”

“I don't. No, I-” Warren shook his head, still stunned. “It just… sucks, dad. I'm very sorry you went through that.” He commiserated. “It's fucked up, and you couldn't have known what the Agency was sending you to.” Barron visibly lost the tension from his body as he heard his son’s words. “You were on your own, under pressure, and tried to do your best. I… would've done the same.” Warren reassured, overwhelmed by the new information and his feelings of horror for what his father had gone through. 

All these years, he had half-believed the media's portrayal of his dad — the unstable two-faced devil aching to create hellfire under his mask of mischief. The man who had left behind a wife and child in favor of embracing chaos. Growing up experiencing the aftermath of his dads imprisonment had made him bitter, and those years of teenage rage and rancour for how life had punished his mother and himself had led Warren to partially betray the father he knew by forgetting the real Barron. Even presently, teenage years gone by, there had been a part of Warren that had still doubted his dad's integrity. Looking at him now and seeing a vulnerable old man with grey hairs and crooked glasses made the pit of resentment in Warren's stomach become an abyss of shame. He couldn't have known on his own, his own mother having fed him the lie with the wrong version of the story all those years, but the feeling persisted. “Why did you say it was safer not to tell me?” He asked Barron.

“I thought, this way, you wouldn't grow up to seek revenge on the Agency.” Barron chuckled, his eyes teary with emotion. “I guess the fates had the prophecy written in stone.” 

Warren smirked softly. “You think they sent you to Nichols on purpose?” He asked then, more seriously. “For being a nuisance to them?”

“I'm not sure.” The older man frowned in contemplation.

“They could've planned to send you to her so they could kill two birds with one stone.” Warren plotted. “Regardless… leaving you on your own like that for the trial was vile.” 

“Wait, they didn't help you during the trial?” Magenta chimed in, revolted, trying to think back at her memories of the public occurrence — which were over a decade old. “Don’t they have to aid their employees?”

“They can pick and choose who they back up, unfortunately. And no, it was too public for the agency to swipe what happened under the rug, so to try and keep appearances of having supe regulation under control, they turned on me. There was a trial, and with the Agency withdrawn from it, the public media took over and focused on the lives lost instead of the lives saved. Which is fair…” He murmured the last part solemnly.

“The agency didn't even give him one of their good lawyers, he got a public DA fresh outta college. I saw the trial on TV at the time. It was a fiasco.” Project shared bluntly.

Gwen piped in too, her tone bitter as she recalled her best friend's conviction and how helpless she felt at the time. “Both the government and the agency basically blacklisted Barron after the trial. And the full story never came out, of course, so the media had a field trip making up as many lies as they wanted about him. In no time everyone knew about Barron Battle having gone berserk-pyro, lighting up a whole town to kill people for fun.”

Barron gave an expression between an awkward smile and a grimace. Penny then blissfully piped in with a curious question. “How did you survive the explosion, if the fire was so big it killed hundreds?” 

“Well, thanks to my powers, I suppose.” Barron answered. “Explosions aren’t the same as flames alone, but it was my own fire that started it all. Maybe it expanded with the explosion and when it came back to hit me, it recognised me. Perhaps the flames were unable to kill the familiar body of their creator. I don't really know, to be honest, sweetheart.”

“Well, I'm glad you survived.” She smiled at him calmly, which he returned warmly.

“Mr. Battle, did the agency have anything against you before your encounter with Nichols?” Will asked. “It just doesn't make much sense that they would've left you alone for your trial like that. Wouldn't it be good PR for the agency if one of their supes saved the day from a killing machine?”

“That's assuming the agency would want the public to know about the machine.” Layla countered. 

“Exactly.” Warren agreed. “You have to remember that Boreas is a crooked fuck that would rather screw over her own people in order to keep the machine secret and use it privately later on.” He motioned at the facility under them with distaste.

“She's been a dick on so many levels.” Magenta pointed out. “In the confidential files we hacked into before this mission, it said that a “redacted” supe saved the day from Nichols. By not mentioning Grimbrook or Mr. Battle specifically, Boreas distanced herself and the agency from the mess of uncontrolled supes, and was able to secretly use all it brought her however she wanted. In the end, she keeps the illusion of her power untouched.” 

“Yeah, and if those are the methods she uses to get people to trust her and think she has things under control, then it's no wonder she would choose to turn her back on Mr. Battle. It was just too useful for her to betray him in the long run.” Zach added.

“And that all explains how she gets re-elected so much.” Ethan nodded. “She's a master at controlling the narrative.”

“It's smart, you gotta give it to her.” Minerva shrugged. “Nichols is a threat to Boreas, Barron gets rid of Nichols, he goes to jail with no one knowing the truth of his story, and public perspective is lost on his case. The S.E.A. is thought to be responsible enough to keep internal affairs under control after Barron’s imprisonment, gracious too from having given up control over the case to the government, secrets are kept all round, and Boreas is the king of the chess board. Impressive.”

“Except she didn't account for me.” Warren frowned. “I'm gonna make it all public. It's about time her reign ends.”

“Woah, woah, Renie.” Gwen mocked. “I already stated that's not gonna happen. I'm not giving up on my mission, even if Barron and the rest of these idiots are. Not for you bunch of assholes.” She pointed a sassy finger to Warren's team.

“Were you not listening, grandma?” Warren stepped closer to her. “You're seriously gonna advocate for your devious fucking mission after having heard all that about the Agency?” 

“All I heard is that you lot are trying to get me killed.” Gwen argued. “But I'm not falling for it.”

“Gwen, please.” Barron interjected. “I'm asking you to put your pride aside and help us. I know you can do that-”

“No, Barron! I won't! How many times do I have to remind you, these cunts sent me to jail! That little shit over there is Stronghold's son! You can't possibly expect me to give you any help in these circumstances!” She exclaimed, standing formidably in her suit of armor.

“This situation is bigger than our personal issues, Gee.” 

“Don't belittle my case, Ron. The personal issues in question are, in fact, big enough for me to be deterred from aiding you.”

“I'm not diminishing your feelings, but Gwen, I know you can put them aside. I've seen you do it before.”

“No you haven't.” She denied, crossing her arms and making a wacky clinking noise with the metal of her armor that contrasted with the scowl on her face.

“Yes, I have.” Barron sighed in frustration before he kept arguing with her. “Remember when we used to hide in the girls’ bathroom in high school?” He asked.

“Excuse me?” Layla blinked.

“You used to what?” Magenta arched a brow, pleasantly engrossed in the exchange.

“Yes, well- We weren't very popular at the time, and some classes were extremely hard for us. Sometimes we just wanted to hide for a while, so we went there. It was our spot.” He explained to the amused and baffled faces around him before he faced Gwen once more. “Remember Mr. Gilbert?”

“He was an asshole.” Gwen scoffed, the memories indeed flowing through her mind again.

“Yes, he was.” Barron chuckled. “He used to torment us every week. Back then, the lines between the hero and sidekick tracks were blurry, so for the most part, teachers just put us all in distressing situations. That’s how they saw which of us would keep afloat, and which were the kids that “weren't cut out for the supe life” that had to settle for being helpers instead of saviors.” Barron shared with the others. “Gwen and I…struggled. In some classes, like Mr. Gilbert’s, the jocks were the only ones that didn't come out of the gym with a broken this and a bleeding that… so the two of us sometimes skipped class to avoid the fuss.” He admitted. “I mean, it was ridiculous. One time I had to carry Gwen on my shoulders cause we were thrown into a pit of lava. This other time, the Coach brought out a professional supe-turned-wrestler for a training session, and I lost my big toe on my left foot from this guy's giant hammer slamming on it. The 80s were rough times, kids.” Barron sighed with his hands on his hips. The younger ones in the group pointed horrified looks at him.

“Shit, sir.” Zach muttered, suddenly very thankful for Coach Boomer.

“Yeah, I've been kinda clumsy when walking, ever since.” Barron shrugged.

“You were clumsy even before- Is there a point to all of this reminiscing?” Gwen caught herself.

“Yes, just- remember that one time more kids followed us into the girls’ bathroom to hide from Mr. Gilbert? You hated them all, so you told them to fuck off and find another spot, but that didn't end up happening. Instead, we all came together over our hatred towards the Coach, and worked alongside each other to fight back at him! You can't tell me you don't remember, it was one of the most memorable things we did in high school!” Barron smiled.

“Fine, yes, I remember! But that was different.” Gwen shook her head.

“How did you fight back?” Layla asked curiously.

“Well, we were tired of him standing on the sidelines while we got wrecked, so we used our powers together to make him fall into the trap he had brought for us that class. Lets just say he lost half of his leg and his memory. He took a break from teaching, and we finally got a break of our own.” Barron remembered, beaming with joy.

“That's…” Layla hesitated, a small grimace on her face. “Uhm, I'm happy you got that break.” She offered instead of the shocked reactions that were floating on her mind.

“Thanks! And we did so thanks to our teamwork, which is the point I was trying-”

“Your corny story was heartwarming, Barry. Still, no.” Gwen denied once more, avoiding his gaze in favor of looking out into the distant woods.

“Royal Pain.” Barron said solemnly, trying another approach and stepping closer to her. “All those hours talking of revolution in the girls’ bathroom can't have been for nothing. All those plans to extirp the system from the roots… Today is the day they become a reality! Before, we couldn't do it, because we were alone -and I was in jail, I guess-, but now we have the team we needed to succeed. Two teams. A super two-layered team. I've seen you forget your hatred for the individuals in favor of sticking it to the man, so I know it's within you.” He pleaded with vigor.

“You…” Gwen frowned fervently at him. If she had possessed fire abilities like Barron and Warren did, she would've had smoke coming out of her ears from her frustrated rage. “Fuck. You. Barron. This is absolute rock bottom for me. And I went through puberty twice!” She complained before she scoffed and finally managed to get the words out of her mouth. “I'm in.”

Even Royal Pain couldn't fight the warm hug that hit her like a tackle when Barron trapped her within his arms —big stiff armor and all. Gwen grumbled at the extra figure approaching her, “This is a two-man hug, Penny. Get away from it.”