Jax

“Oh fudge this!” No sooner had Jax ended the call than his phone was in flight, hurtling toward the wall faster than a speeding bullet.

Thwap 

Okay, maybe it wasn’t quite up to bullet speed, because it landed squarely in the softball glove his sidekick held aloft. They raised their eyebrow at him, setting the phone on their desk with pointed, deliberate care. “Bad news, Blue?”

Jax debated asking for his phone back so he could throw it again, but settled for flinging himself onto the couch instead. “They denied my application. Me! The darling of Townsboro, the hero with the highest success rate in the tri-state area!”

Jaxon Odell, alias “Blue Streak”, had been in the hero business since he could wriggle into a spandex suit. He’d started as a boy wonder—everyone was impressed when a scrawny little kid lifted a car over his head or jumped over a building. These days, Jax considered himself a reasonably sized and still wonderful adult. The journalists and talk show hosts and ex-nemeses who called him a speedy little shrimp clearly had no idea what they were talking about. The point was, he knew how to do the hero thing, and he knew how the system worked.

Step one: register with the Heroes Guild
Step two: use the Guild’s matching system to acquire a suitable nemesis
Step three: fight nemesis, get famous, profit

Not that he was in it for the money; no one got into this line of work expecting a hefty paycheck. Or any paycheck at all. Saving the day and winning the adoration of the general public was plenty for him—he had a day job to cover the rest. But the public couldn’t love a hero they never saw. In order to be seen, he needed someone to fight.

“I mean,” he continued, warming to his subject, “it’s not my fault I have standards! How would it look if I went around fighting people who didn’t have a chance against me? That would be embarrassing for everyone, right?”

“Sure,” Sydney said, “almost as embarrassing as a grown man throwing a tantrum because someone told him ‘no’.” 

Which was terribly unfair, because Sydney told him ‘no’ all the time. It was their job, sort of—when he’d asked them to be his sidekick, his main argument was that he needed someone to rein in what Jax called ‘an overabundance of passion’ and the Heroes Guild called ‘having a screaming meltdown in public’. Sydney Sloan, who somehow managed to get through four years of undergrad and three semesters of grad school without having any screaming meltdowns, seemed like the perfect choice. Managing Jax’s hero schedule couldn’t be worse than coddling entitled professors or grading hundreds of freshman coding projects, right?

Predictably, they’d turned him down. But Jax was stubborn (“your secret sixth power,” Sydney said) and eventually he’d managed to convince them that moonlighting as his sidekick was a better option than TAing for another introductory-level seminar. And that was how Speed Reader, whose only powers were time management and keeping calm in a crisis (“those aren’t real powers, Blue”) became Blue Streak’s faithful sidekick.

“It’s not that!” Jax forced himself into an upright position; it was too hard to argue with Sydney when he was reclining in despair. “I understand that not every villain on their list is going to be a perfect match, but to not even try? After all my years of service, this is how they repay me?”

Sydney didn’t sigh, but Jax could tell they wanted to. “Listen, Blue, I get that this sucks, but…you have to see where they’re coming from, right? You have been through a lot of nemeses in the past few years. How many has it been?”

“Well, I—six? Seven?”

“Fourteen, Blue,” Sydney said. “You’ve been paired with fourteen nemeses in the past two years, and none of them lasted longer than three months. Wouldn’t you be concerned, if you were the Guild?”

“But it wasn’t my fault!” At Sydney’s frown, Jax amended, “Well, most of them weren’t my fault. I mean, look at Cryptique - he went on parental leave, for goodness’ sake! That wasn’t on me—I didn’t even know he was pregnant until after he left, I had to find out about it on his partner’s Capesbook page. And the guy before him, Ice Scream, decided to go back to school and said he didn’t have time to do both. And before that—” he paused, trying to think. It was so hard to remember which nemesis came in what order, at this point.

This time Sydney did sigh. “Before that was Apeshifter, who quit after you broke both of his arms by throwing him into a building.”

“Again, that could happen to—”

“And then,” Sydney continued as though he hadn’t spoken, “you went to the hospital to critique his performance because you wanted him to put on a better show the next time. And we haven’t even gotten to the people you rejected outright.” They crossed their arms and leveled a glare at him. “Face it, Blue, you’re picky! The Guild can’t keep up with your high standards, so they stopped trying.”

Jax’s shoulders slumped with each word they spoke. The trouble was, they weren’t wrong. If every villain who became Jax’s nemesis eventually left, what did that say about him? 

“So that’s it?” Jax asked. “I’m just supposed to…give up? Move north and start fighting random rogue villains, or worse, hang up my cape altogether?” 

Sydney rolled their eyes. “Don’t be dramatic, you don’t even wear a cape. I didn’t say you should give up.” They plucked his phone from the desk and started tapping something onto the screen. “You just need to look for a nemesis somewhere else.”

“Somewhere…else?” Jax eyed the phone with suspicion. He still wasn’t used to having a smartphone; Sydney had forced him to upgrade when they started working for him. So far all he’d managed to do with it was make calls, send texts, and somehow set his ringtone to an obnoxious pop song from the 90s. He was pretty sure his old phone could do those things too, and he hadn’t been afraid of breaking that one with his super strength. “Like where?”

“Catch.” Sydney tossed the phone; Jax had to throw himself off the couch in order to catch it. Super reflexes, heck yeah. He waited for the screen to rotate back to the right direction and looked at the app his sidekick had apparently just downloaded. The logo looked…familiar. Something about that capital G…

“Sydney, are you saying I should…” he trailed off, not able to say it out loud.

Across the room, Sydney smiled. “That’s right. We’re putting an ad on Gregslist.”

EXPERIENCED HERO seeking MORTAL FOE - part time, flexible hours (Greater Townsboro)

Are you looking to match wits and take some hits? Do you need a beacon of truth, justice, and incredibly tight spandex pants to keep your dastardly plots in check? Are you available weeknights from 6-9 pm, occasional weekends by mutual agreement? Read on for more information.

About me: Blue, 28, he/him. 10+ years hero experience, guild certified. Power type: physical, rank 5. Funny, handsome, charming, [sidekick’s note: also humble! and bad enough at computers that he won’t notice I’ve added this part until it’s too late.] I enjoy visiting museums, hitting the gym, and pounding the pavement in a constant search for justice.

About you: A man aged 25-35, powered or augmented, rank 5 or similar. This is not your first rodeo (kids just out of villain training need not apply) and you’re willing to sign a guild-standard holds-barred agreement. Must be at least 5’8” tall (non-negotiable). Oh, and you need to be a villain, obviously. Ideal applicant will tell me all about your evil plans, preferably while cackling maniacally. 

If interested, please send an email with your qualifications and at least one reference. Must include a photo. [sidekick’s note: OF YOUR FACE. unless you want me to trace your IP address and give you a nastier virus than that rash you’ve been meaning to get checked. masked/brooding silhouettes fine.]

Connor

“I can’t believe this guy. No, actually, I can’t believe you. Why are you making me do this?” Connor stared at his laptop like it was a venomous snake, poised to flee if it made any sudden moves to bite him. Normally he enjoyed a mutually beneficial, symbiotic relationship with his electronics; he kept them charged and free of bugs, they kept him supplied with cat videos. Right now though, he’d have preferred the snake.

“I’m not making you do anything,” Kendra said, retrieving a bag of gluten-free bread from the fridge and making a beeline for her toaster. “I gave you a choice, and you chose this option.”

On second thought, maybe the snake had already bitten him. Maybe the snake had him by the balls, and knew it, and was using this knowledge to blackmail him. Maybe the snake’s name was Kendra Cole: roommate, best friend, and raging asshole. She also happened to be Connor’s twin sister, which meant she knew exactly where to bite.

Connor twisted around so he could glare at her. (He wasn’t avoiding looking at his computer. He wasn’t). “You told me to respond to one of these postings or you’d kick me to the curb, Ken. What kind of choice do I have if the alternative is being homeless?”

Kendra rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t say moving from my guest room to Mom’s counts as homelessness, Con, show some respect. I’ve heard her new place out east is pretty nice.” She opened a jar of peanut butter—the one labeled “KENDRA’S - DO NOT CONTAMINATE” in her blocky handwriting—and started scooping an unholy amount of it onto her toast. “Anyway, it’s Gregslist, it’s not like I’m forcing you to march your ass to the local guild hall and sign up for their matching program. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?” Kendra knew why he’d quit, had seen what a wreck he’d been when he showed up on her doorstep all those months ago. She’d had front row seats to his disastrous teenage years. She’d been there for most of his fuckups, actually, until she’d moved across the country to give herself a fresh start. Connor hadn’t blamed her, but he had missed her. People in his line of work didn’t make friends easily. Or maybe it was just Connor who didn’t, because he’d never needed to. Either way, when everything fell apart, he’d known there was only one person he could go to. No one else would have understood. They would have tried to work it out, convince him to stay. 

Of everyone in Connor’s life, only Kendra knew what staying would have cost him. So he’d run to her, and she’d taken him in.

Only now it seemed like she was trying to push him out again. “Bad things could happen, Ken. So many bad things. Do you want the list alphabetically or chronologically?”

“I don’t want a list at all, that sounds like a perfect way to make your anxiety spiral,” Kendra said. She sat on the stool next to his and slid a plate over. Toast, with an actual reasonable amount of peanut butter on it. “Stop panicking and eat that. It’s going to be fine, Con. It’ll be good for you to get back out there. And yes, shut up, I know what happened before. This won’t be like last time.”

Connor hadn’t actually been trying to interrupt her, mainly because his mouth was too full of peanut butter to manage that. He swallowed his food along with his objections. “Why won’t it? Explain how this will be better.”

“It will be better,” Kendra said, with exaggerated patience, “because you won’t be working with those assholes at the North Coast Heroes Guild, and you won’t be stuck with some nightmare of a partner, and you’ll have me,” she waved her own piece of toast for emphasis, “to obliterate anyone who fucks with you. Unless they’re fucking you in a sexy way, in which case—”

“Kendra.” Connor covered his face with his hand. “There is no way in hell I’m getting sexy with some guy who calls himself—” he glanced at the screen again, “Blue. What kind of name is that, anyway?”

“Oh, you’re one to talk, Volt. Unless you changed your mind…?”

Connor shook his head. “No, I’m going with it.” ReVolt. A new identity for a new town. 

“Great.” Kendra stood and pointed to Connor’s laptop. “So you’ve got your name, you’ve got a possible nemesis and you’re fortified with the breakfast of champions. Time to email him.”

Just like that, the panic was back, sizzling under his skin like a rising storm. “But Ken…what if I fuck this up? What if I’m not ready? This guy seems so…”

“Overconfident? Verbose? Slightly confused about whether he’s writing a job ad or a dating profile?”

“Uh. I was going to say…perfect?” Blue seemed like he knew exactly what he wanted. Connor would have committed unspeakable acts of villainy for that level of self-assurance.

“Connor.” Kendra put the palm of her hand on the top of his head and pushed back until he was forced to look up at her. The touch grounded him. “No one is expecting you to be perfect . This guy is looking for a nemesis on Gregslist, he’s not going to find a bunch of shiny, polished villains with a PhD in ass-kicking. You don’t have to be perfect, you just have to be the best of the weirdos. And if all else fails, just lie to make yourself look cooler.”

Connor managed a weak laugh. “Wow, that makes me feel so much better. Thanks for the pep talk, Ken.”

“I missed my calling as a life coach.” Kendra ruffled his hair and dodged out of the way as he swiped at her. “Now put your big-girl villain pants on and send ‘Blue’ a goddamn email before I call Mom and tell her to get the guest room ready.”

To: [redacted]@foes.gregslist.org

Subject: Nemesis Posting

Hi Blue,

I’m writing to inquire about your ad on Gregslist. It seems you’re looking for a nemesis? Look no further; when it comes to making enemies, I’m at the top of the class. 

About me: Volt, 26, he/him. NOT a guild-certified hero, obviously, but I do have roughly a decade of experience. Powers are a combination of innate abilities (energy) and augments. I read your list of likes, and what a coincidence! I enjoy plotting museum heists, aiming for the gym but tragically missing at the last second, and pounding heroes (into the pavement). Oh, and the exosuit adds a few inches, but I promise I’m a passable 5’11” without it. I think you’ll like what you see. ;)

Your proposed schedule works for me; I’m very flexible (and so is my schedule). Definitely willing to discuss the holds-barred agreement, though I can’t agree to anything without seeing it in writing. Like I said, I’m not guild-certified and I’m not looking to affiliate, so hopefully that won’t be a deal breaker. 

I’ve only recently relocated to the Townsboro area, so I don’t have many local references. I have attached one from a previous residence, which will hopefully assure you as to the (deep, dark) depths of my character. I have also attached a photo as requested, and a sample of maniacal laughter for your consideration. (Please inform your sidekick that there is no need to infect anyone with anything, I don’t send my scandalous ankle photos until at least the third conversation. I’ve also been asked to make you aware that, should any suspicious technological disasters befall our household, my henchperson will hunt you down and beat you with a very large textbook.)

If you’re interested in discussing this further, feel free to respond to this email or text me at (XXX) XXX-XXXX. 

Hoping to hear from you soon (or, not ACTUALLY hear, I let unexpected phone calls go to voicemail like a civilized person), 

ReVolt

Jax

“Hmm. This guy looks promising.”

Jax raised his head from where he lay prone on the couch, squinting at Sydney to see how sincere they were. “Does he really? Or do you have another name for your ‘holiday card’ list?” He’d started calling it that because he preferred not to think about what Sydney was actually doing to the men who sent him inappropriate photos of their genitalia. It made sense: sending holiday cards was stressful, morally dubious, and not something Jax would ever do. Sydney’s version just involved more hacking than most people’s. 

He’d tried answering the emails himself at first, he really had. But after the first half dozen applicants who seemed more interested in a one-night stand than a dedicated nemesis relationship, he’d passed the task to his trusty sidekick. Upping their daily coffee allowance by two cups was worth it, if it meant he didn’t have to read another question about whether or not his carpet and drapes matched. He was a superhero, not an interior designer.

Sydney laughed. “No, I think this one’s actually legit. I mean, he’s definitely flirting with you, but you like a flirty nemesis. And his answers show he actually read your post, which is better than the rest of them. Catch.” 

Jax snapped his hand up to intercept the phone before it could hit the wall behind him. “You don’t have to constantly test my reflexes, you know. They’re still super fast.”

“You wouldn’t know it from the way you’ve been glued to the couch all day,” Sydney grumbled. “Read your email, Blue.”

Jax did, and hope rose with every word. “He does seem…different from the others,” he admitted. He wasn’t going to dignify Sydney’s comment about flirting by responding to it—was it really flirting to reassure someone that he met the listed height requirement? “I like his style. I mean, putting a mortuary school as a reference? He clearly has a sense of humor.” The photo wasn’t half bad, either, although Jax wished it showed more of his face. The sunglasses-and-leather-jacket look was really working for him; he wondered what the guy looked like without them.

Right. Definitely not flirting. Serious nemesis assessment only.

He read through again, frowning slightly as he scrolled. “I wonder what his issue with the contract is, though. I can’t have a nemesis who won’t agree to some holds barred, we’re not living in the wild north.” Holds barred agreements were the backbone of a nemesis relationship; they spelled out what targets, areas of town, and pieces of personal information were off-limits. Jax wasn’t especially worried about his family—his parents were retired heroes themselves, so getting attacked by a villain would be a nice change from going on cruises and asking their son when he was going to bring a nice boy home. But he didn’t need a nemesis showing up at his day job or following Sydney to class.

“I don’t know, maybe you should ask him,” Sydney said. “He might not be familiar with how the local guild does it, if he just moved here. You know nemesis laws are different in other places. If he actually has connections to that mortuary school—well, I don’t want to speculate, you should just ask him.”

If that was meant to make Jax less curious, it didn’t work. “Speculate about what?”

“Well…”

“Come on, o brilliant sidekick. You know I rely on your wisdom to keep me from tripping over my own feet. What am I missing?”

His words had the intended effect; Sydney rolled their eyes and just about cracked a smile. “Flatterer. It’s probably nothing, but it looks like this guy comes out of North Coast territory.”

“Really?” Jax looked at the photo again. The North Coast was the setting of basically every cautionary tale he’d ever heard; totally lawless, and their Heroes Guild did nothing to impose order. If the rumors were true, sometimes they made things worse. Just last year one of their rising stars had gone rogue and taken out a swath of the town before self-destructing; the news had been all over Capesbook. “But he looks so…normal.”

“I wouldn’t believe everything they say about that place, I’m sure it’s mostly exaggerated. But it’s true that they don’t usually match up their heroes and villains on a long-term basis, it’s kind of a free-for-all. And they have much higher injury and fatality rates than Townsboro does.” Sydney shrugged. “Who knows, maybe that’s why he moved away. You won’t know unless you ask.”

That was true; no matter where this guy had come from, he was on Blue Streak’s turf now. If he didn’t know how to be the kind of villain Townsboro needed, someone would have to teach him. “I’ll just have to make sure he understands how things work here. We might be vigilantes, but there are rules.”

“Great, do that.” Evidently Sydney decided that their task was done now that Jax had a plan of action, because they turned their back on him and started opening windows on their computer monitors. “Now send him a message and stop pestering me, I need to debug so many lines of code before my lab tomorrow.”

Jax rolled onto his back and stared up at his phone screen, reading the email one more time. Whoever this “Volt” was, he certainly seemed more promising than anyone else had. It couldn’t hurt to send him a message, could it?

“Right, I’ve got this.”

“Cool.” Sydney was already absorbed in their computer, tapping away at the keyboard.

Silence reigned for a long moment, each of them focused on their own task. Then,

“So…what am I supposed to say?” 

“Blue, I swear I will put you on my list.”

Connor

The first time Connor’s phone vibrated, he ignored it. The only people who texted him were Kendra and spam numbers, and his twin was in class for another two hours. But then it went off again, and then a third time. With a sigh, he set down his book and reached for his phone. It wasn’t like he was doing anything anyway; maybe the spam bot felt like chatting.

Unknown Number: Hey

Unknown Number: I mean, hello, this is Blue.

Unknown Number: From Gregslist, in the event that you know multiple people named Blue. Assuming this is even the right number.

Oh. Maybe not a spam bot after all. As Connor watched, another message came through.

Unknown Number: Oh dear I hope this is the right number. If you didn’t respond to a Gregslist ad by someone named Blue, please tell me so I can go away and expire tragically.

Connor stifled a laugh. Before he could second-guess himself, he tapped out a message.

Me: hoo boy, talking about tragic expiration, you sure know how to charm a guy

Me: but fear not, you have the right number

Me: assuming you’re the Blue who’s in need of a nemesis, and not, say, some other Blue who’s looking for a hired escort

A pause, and then,

Unknown Number: Oh my! No, I’m the one who needs a nemesis.

Me: good

Me: I charge extra for the other thing ;)

“Oh my god.” Connor had to turn his phone over in embarrassment as soon as he hit send. “What is wrong with me?” No matter how awkward and anxious he actually felt, somehow he turned into an enormous flirt when it came time to put on his alter ego. Kendra said it was probably a defense mechanism, and also that she would study him like a bug if her bachelor’s in psychology was worth more than the paper it was printed on. The phone vibrated again, and he reluctantly turned it over to read Blue’s response.

Unknown Number: Well then.

Unknown Number: It’s certainly good that I wasn’t looking for those services.

Unknown Number: Not that there’s anything wrong with that!

Unknown Number: I’m sure it’s a prestigious and lucrative line of work.

Unknown Number: And you’re probably very successful if your photo is anything to judge by.

Unknown Number: WAIT sorry is that insensitive to say? 

Okay, maybe this guy was as nervous about this as Connor was. He felt the tension bleeding out of his shoulders as he typed his reply.

Me: relax, hero

Me: it was a joke ;)

Me: although you’re not wrong, I bet I’d be in high demand if I decided on an alternate career path

Me: anyway this is Volt

Me: what did you want to talk about?

While he was waiting for a response, he added the number to his contacts.

Blue Gregslist: Oh yes, right

Blue Gregslist: I received your nemesis application, and I’d like to learn more.

Blue Gregslist: Would you be interested in meeting up?

Connor blinked. Meet up? Already? He wasn’t really sure how this whole “nemesis” thing usually worked here, but he’d expected a few more follow-up questions before they moved on to the “meeting in person” stage. Of course, a part of him would have been happy to stick to the “flirty banter over text message” part of things indefinitely, but Kendra would object if he didn’t eventually get out of the house. So he took a deep breath and started typing.

Me: I could be persuaded

Me: what did you have in mind?

Blue Gregslist: There’s a good cafe near Townsboro Square, I can send you the address.

Blue Gregslist: It’s an amnesty zone, so it’s fine to be suited up as long as you can fit through the door. Not sure how big your exosuit is.

Blue Gregslist: Wait, you do know about amnesty zones, right? You said you were new in town.

He did know about amnesty zones, though he’d never actually been to one as ReVolt. Kendra had dragged him to a park when he first moved here, and it had been…strange, to say the least. Heroes and villains and civilians all in one place, mingling like it was the most normal thing in the world. Chatting and laughing, sharing picnic lunches and playing pickup games of penultimate frisbee with strangers. He’d spent the whole time trying not to flinch every time a cape went by, all-too aware of how little protection his civilian clothes offered. They walk around acting like they’re safe, he’d said to Kendra, in a group of people who could kill them without breaking a sweat. He’d spent three days making modifications to his exosuit when they got back to Kendra’s apartment, and she hadn’t asked him to go again.

That was probably a little too much to go into with a stranger from Gregslist though, so he settled for:

Me: yeah I’ve heard of them

Me: they’re like, neutral spaces for capes to meet up, right? no attacks

Blue Gregslist: Right! No weapons. Powers are strictly prohibited unless they’re cosmetic, life-sustaining, or related to mobility. Some exceptions for powers that can’t be turned off, but those have to go through a vetting process. 

Blue Gregslist: So we can meet up and discuss the details without having to go straight for each other’s throats.

Me: oh good, I don’t usually go for the throat until the second date ;)

Blue Gregslist: Haha!

Blue Gregslist: Wait, that was a joke, right?

God, if this guy was half as adorable in real life as he was over text, Connor was going to be in trouble.

Me: you got it, good job hero ;)

Me: how about tuesday for a meetup? 5:30?

Blue Gregslist: A fine plan!

Blue Gregslist: I’ll send you the address.

Blue Gregslist: And Volt?

Me: yeah?

Blue Gregslist: Don’t be late :)

Me: wouldn’t dream of it, hero ;)

Jax

Jax was going to be late, and then he’d have to hang up his (metaphorical) cape in shame because what kind of hero called Blue Streak was ever late to anything? Never mind that he didn’t actually have super speed, it was the principle of the thing. He hopped over two lanes of traffic, ignoring the blare of horns, and sprinted to the next intersection. 

Honestly, he’d meant to take the train, but the trains were delayed because Freeze Pop and Soda Ash were having their weekly spat; no one wanted to risk running on a track that was molten one minute, iced over the next. And it was pretty much impossible to get a cab because he may have, sort of, pissed off the cabbies union by breaking one too many of their cars during a fight. Which could happen to anyone, honestly. With powers that amounted to dodging punches and throwing heavy objects, one learned to use what came to hand. 

While Jax waited impatiently for the Mad Gnatter to chivvy his swarm out of the bike lane (and the pedestrian lane, and…really, those bugs got everywhere) he heard his phone chime. He fished it out—bless Sydney for sourcing a super suit with pockets, he didn’t know how he’d managed before—and saw a new message had come in from Volt.

ReVolt: getting excited to see me, hero?

ReVolt: try to contain yourself, wouldn’t want you getting all hot and bothered before we even meet ;)

Jax grinned and sent a message back.

Me: Don’t worry, I’m cool as a cucumber.

He ducked as a fireball sailed overhead—shoot, he always forgot about blazing Tuesdays—and took a shortcut over the nearest rooftop.

Me: How about you? Not having any trouble finding the place, are you?

He’d made sure to pick a cafe that was well away from any of his usual haunts—that was practically lesson one, in hero school. Capes could mix business with pleasure, but not without a contract to ensure one’s nemesis-with-benefits wouldn’t vaporize one’s favorite barista. So he’d thought it was a good idea to pick somewhere across town, but now he sort of wished he’d been a little less cautious.

ReVolt: nope! your fancy city can’t fool my internal compass

ReVolt: i know exactly where i’m going

The banter continued as Jax worked his way across town. There had been…a lot of that, actually. He wasn’t much of a texter by nature, but whenever Volt sent a message, even if it was just to double check that they were still planning to meet, he found himself responding with a smile on his face. He hoped the guy would turn out to be as enjoyable to talk to in person. Then again, he also hesitated to hope for anything. Maybe Volt would work out as a nemesis. Maybe he wouldn’t. There was no way to know until they met, and even then, there was no knowing how long it would last. How many nemeses have you been through, Blue? Too many, and he didn’t want Volt to follow in their footsteps.

Still, there was no way of knowing until they tried it out. So Jax dodged through an all-out brawl between three teenaged hero/villain teams (who were apparently settling a dispute about science fair results) and finally spotted his destination. Just one more street to cross, and then a quick hop onto the roof, and—

BOOM

A figure landed in front of him, shaking the sidewalk. All Jax could see at first was burnished metal, a silky black run through with blue-white glowing lines. A robot? No, an exosuit, he decided after a moment, spotting the telltale signs of protective plating over a human body. Robots never moved quite the same as humans did, and they didn’t need to be armored in the same places.

He was proven right a moment later when the figure spoke. “See? Told you the suit put me over six feet.”

Jax leaned back, assessing. “Seems so. Although I have no way of being sure you were telling the truth about your height without it.” Not that the suit left much space to hide extra inches; for all that it was protective, it seemed designed for mobility, too, streamlined and sleek. Jax couldn’t wait to see how it took a punch.

He would have to wait though, because the suit let out a hiss and began to fold itself away. It left behind a lot of black leather—was that a sleeveless biker jacket? —and a smile that could fleece the devil. As Jax watched, the man took off his sunglasses and hung them from the collar of his shirt. 

“You must be Volt,” Jax said. There was no way this could be anyone else, standing in front of him with electric sparks crackling in his eyes and dancing down the length of his exposed—very shiny, very metal— left arm. 

“And you’re clearly Blue.” Volt looked him up and down. Wow, he really was almost six feet tall; Jax barely came up to his chin. “Didn’t realize your name was so literal.”

Connor

Connor thought he’d left enough time to get to the coffee shop by civilian means, he really had. How was he supposed to know that every cape in the Greater Townsboro area would be out on a Tuesday evening? Maybe there was some kind of happy hour for heroes going on: buy one, get one free-for-all. 

So he’d had to give up—and suit up—and take to the streets in full armor. It should have made him feel safe, and in some ways it did: he was anonymous like this, a new villain in a town that had no reason to recognize him yet. But it made him feel exposed, too. People might look twice at a handsome guy in black leather and shades, but they definitely looked twice and then ducked for cover when that same guy strolled by in an exosuit. Nevermind that he could just as easily hurt them with his bare hands. In the cape business, looks spoke louder than words. Connor Cole, unemployed computer geek with what Kendra described as “more fashion sense than common sense”, could get lost in a crowd. ReVolt couldn't, but the crowd would part for him. 

And it also protected him from laser beams and shrapnel and levitating coffee carts as he passed through one fight after another. So that was a bonus. He couldn’t name any of the people fighting—he hadn’t been in town long enough, hadn’t been willing to learn the key players in the local cape scene—but he knew how these things went. None of them would care who they hit, as long as they hit their target eventually. If he wanted to avoid being collateral damage, he had to be tougher than whatever they could throw at him.

But sometimes armor isn’t enough, is it? Sometimes you get hurt no matter what.

Right, okay, maybe he needed to get to the cafe before the stress of going out in public caught up to him. He pulled up his text thread with Blue to distract himself, sending a quick message to make sure his nemesis in potentia was on the way. Maybe Blue also wanted to be distracted, because he texted back right away. He wanted to know if Connor was having trouble finding the place. He’s so damn wholesome. Connor found himself smiling as he skirted around some kind of giant mutant hamster and reoriented himself. 

Me: i know exactly where i’m going

Me: in fact, i bet i’ll see you before you see me

Blue Gregslist: Oh? Is that a challenge?

Me: everything i say is a challenge, hero

Me: i thought you were into that ;)

Blue Gregslist: I plead the fifth

Blue Gregslist: But also, I am DEFINITELY going to get there first!

Me: we’ll see about that

The thing was, his sense of direction was terrible, but he wasn’t lying about the internal compass. It was just that it could only point him to a person, not a fixed point. Normally that person was Kendra; even if he didn’t actively need to find her, it reassured him to know where she was. It was also, in her words, “better than anxiety-stalking your shitty ex partner”, which he refused to admit to ever doing. So most of the time he left it tuned to her and went on with his day. Now, though, he needed to find Blue before the hero found their meeting place. 

There. It was harder to do with someone he hadn’t met in person, but all the witty text banter he and Blue had exchanged helped fix the shape of him in Connor’s mind. He was moving—not a surprise, since he was supposed to be on his way to the cafe—but damn, he was all over the place. Either the cape activity was even worse where he was (which Connor doubted; someone was actively melting a hole in the street right in front of him) or Blue was ridiculously agile. Connor sighed, pointed his suit in the direction he hoped Blue was going, and set off before any more of the street turned into liquid tar.

It took a couple of calibrations, but in the end he did spot Blue first. It was hard not to notice him, with that vibrant shock of cerulean hair and the way he casually pushed a taxi aside like it weighed nothing, then used it as a springboard to jump over a building. He landed, light on his feet in navy-and-silver spandex that left nothing to the imagination. He skipped around a fight like he didn’t even care that it was happening, like this whole city was a dance and he was the principal dancer. Connor wanted to punch him—or kiss him? He couldn’t tell, and there was no time to figure it out because he was striding forward, pushing off the low bridge he’d climbed to get a better look at his target. Halfway to the ground, he thought, I’ve been pulled into his choreography, and I’m going to destroy it. The thought was followed immediately by, thank goodness I never tried a career as a poet. Then he hit the pavement, and all thoughts fled.

The suit protected his body. Nothing could protect his heart from the way Blue looked at him, eyes alight with interest as the suit folded away to reveal the man underneath. 

“You must be Volt.”

“And you’re clearly Blue.”

As comebacks went, it wasn’t his best, but energy thrummed through Connor with every second he spent in Blue’s presence. He willed himself to keep it in, to limit it to the glowing eyes and little sparks that always made his utili-arm look cooler. He was ReVolt now, and ReVolt could keep his powers under control, even in the presence of a tiny ball of charisma like Blue. 

It helped that Blue seemed equally impressed with him. “I can’t say the same for your name,” he said, when Connor remarked that Blue Streak was a very literal name for someone with blue hair and agility powers. “There’s nothing revolting about you.”

“Don’t be fooled by my good looks,” Connor said, “my personality more than makes up for it.”

The easy banter was still there, even though they were talking in real life and not over text. Connor hadn’t expected that, but he was glad of it. It would make this whole thing much easier.

“Oh? Tell me about your revolting personality, then. I want to know what kind of villainous mind I’m going to be up against. Do you have a list of nefarious plots you’re itching to commit? Are children’s screams music to your ears? Do you drink,” he shuddered, “black coffee?” 

Connor laughed, a genuine thing that he hurriedly turned into an evil cackle. “Only the blackest coffee for me, hero. And I must say, I prefer the sound of children screaming to the sound of them crying, but you know what’s even better?” When Blue shook his head, he continued. “The sound of billionaires crying. You have these people who think they’re untouchable, they barely even notice if you take something from them. But if you take enough that they do notice? Total meltdown.”

Blue let out a low whistle. “Diabolical. Tell me more.”

The talk continued to flow freely as they reached the cafe and ordered (Connor actually did prefer black coffee, and teased Blue relentlessly for his vanilla frappe until the hero admitted, with a pout that could level a skyscraper, that coffee was too intense for his enhanced sense of taste, and anyway caffeine made him sleepy). One cup of coffee turned into two, which turned into a heated debate about which of the available baked goods was superior before they eventually decided to get three and split them. Connor got so wrapped up in their conversation that he forgot to feel uncomfortable with his powers on display, barely even noticed the other patrons displaying theirs. He definitely didn’t notice the time passing until his phone vibrated with three texts in quick succession from Kendra, wanting to know if he was dead or needed her help hiding a body.

“Sorry, I should go,” he said, “My si—er, my henchperson wants to talk about some nefarious plots.” Kendra actually wanted to know if he was going to be home for movie night or if she was going to have to watch a cheesy romcom without him, but Blue didn’t need to know that. 

“Oh, I had no idea it had gotten so late!” Blue looked at his own phone, a blocky thing encased in so many protective layers Connor was surprised he could still use it. “I should go too, my sidekick will want an update.” He stood and stretched, a fluid motion that Connor tried and failed to avoid staring at. “It was lovely meeting you, Volt. We should do this again sometime.”

Connor smirked. “Right, like…tomorrow? The way we planned.” They’d plotted out their schedule for the actual nemesis stuff: weeknights from 6 to 9, only alternate Fridays, no weekends for now until they determined if the partnership—nemesis-ship? Was working. Connor had a raid on a megacorporation planned, and some vague inklings about a museum heist that he’d need to fine-tune before he actually put it in motion. Blue had seemed very enthusiastic about the whole thing.

“Right, of course. Tomorrow.” Blue opened the door, but turned to look over his shoulder before he stepped outside. “I meant we should do this again, though. Get coffee. It was…nice.” With that, and a tiny smile that held none of the bravado Connor had seen all evening, he bolted off into the night.

Connor stared after him. Was that…did he mean…? No way to ask, and no time to even get in a parting remark. Dammit, Blue. “You don’t even drink coffee!” he shouted anyway, then summoned his exosuit and set his internal compass for home. After all that, Kendra had better let him pick the movie.

Jax

Sidekicks, in Jax’s opinion, were occasionally more trouble than they were worth. Sure, they managed his schedule and handled impossible tasks like “posting a Gregslist ad”, but they also had zero sympathy for his utterly miserable, doomed, tragic life problems.

Or, as Sydney called it, “his stupid crush on his stupid nemesis that he was too much of a coward to do anything about.”

See? No sympathy, none whatsoever. 

It wasn’t a crush and Jax certainly hadn’t been moping around and there was no need for him to get outside and walk it off before he drove Sydney crazy. Well, perhaps there was something to that last one. Sydney was deep in some arcane programming assignment and had looked like they’d been about three seconds away from turning villain and murdering him with their mind. And they didn’t even have mind-murder powers. So instead of arguing with them (again—they’d already had this conversation twice today) he decided to take their advice and go to the coffee shop around the corner. He didn’t want coffee and probably didn’t need the sugar that he’d get from whatever drink he did buy, but if he brought Sydney something loaded with caffeine they might feel a little more kindly to him.

That was the plan, at least. It was going well until he was waiting for his order and heard someone behind him say, “Jaxon? Is that you?”

Oh no. Only one person besides his mother had ever used his full name, and that certainly wasn’t his mother.

Jax sighed, schooled his expression to something more cheerful, and turned around. “Thaddeus. What a surprise!”

It was a surprise; part of the reason they broke up was because Thaddeus had been planning to move away from Townsboro and didn’t want to “complicate things” with long distance.

“Oh, Jaxon, always such a tease. You know I go by Thad.”

The other reason they’d broken up was that Thad was a massive douchebag. Which was saying something, because Jax spent much of his time with people who committed crimes for a living, and none of them ever drove him to use such strong language. Not that Thad knew about any of that—their relationship hadn’t lasted long enough for Jax to let him in on that secret. He doubted it would have even if Thad hadn’t moved.

“Right, of course. So uh, how are you?” Jax didn’t want to know, but he would rather let Thad ramble on about his awesome new job and his awesome apartment that he shared with his awesome new boyfriend than give him an opportunity to ask—

“So that’s how I’ve been—what are you up to these days? Anyone new in your life?”

—questions like that.

Jax forced himself to match Thad’s level of empty-headed enthusiasm. “Things have been going well! I got a promotion at work last year,” right after my nemesis quit and I had nothing to do but my day job, “and I’m keeping busy,” keeping up with my new nemesis. “You know, the usual.”

“Sure.” Thad seemed to digest that for a moment, then said, “so, no boyfriend, then?”

Of course that was what he wanted to know. Thad had probably acquired a new boyfriend the second he moved away, simply so he could flaunt it in Jax’s face if they ever saw each other again. He’d probably been through several of them since then, since it had been six years, but Jax imagined he’d been waiting for the day they could have this conversation. Well. Jax wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how very single he was.

“Oh, no, I am seeing someone, actually. He’s great, you’d like him.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he’s—” not real, so I have to make something up. Jax’s thoughts went unbidden to the person he absolutely should not think about dating, and the words just slipped out. “He’s…electrifying. I always feel like I’m the only other person in the room when I’m with him,” true, Volt kept all his attention, “and we can talk about anything and everything. We just…fit together.” And then, because this was Thad and Thad’s mind could only hold so much depth, he added, “Plus, he’s super tall, he wears a lot of black leather and he has really great legs.”

Thad laughed. “Sounds like he’s perfect for you. Are you sure you’re not making him up?”

Crap. “Thad, honestly—” 

“He’s trying not to brag too much,” a familiar voice said, “but I have a great ass, too.” An arm slid around Jax’s waist—a familiar, solid, metal arm, mostly hidden by the sleeve of a leather jacket—and warm breath ghosted along his cheek as Volt tugged him close and leaned in to whisper, “Hey, Blue.”

“H-hey babe.” Jax was impressed with himself; he managed not to flinch, even when Volt’s hand slid down to park itself on his hip. “I didn’t hear you come in.” If Volt was going to play this game, Jax could play it too. He leaned into the embrace, tucking his own hand into the back pocket of a pair of sinfully tight black jeans. Volt twitched, but he didn’t move away.

“Probably because this guy was talking your ear off. He wasn’t bothering you, was he?”

“I’m fine, he’s an old…acquaintance. Plus, you know I can handle myself.”

Volt grinned, turning Jax toward him. “Oh, I know you can. I’m so into the way you handle things, Blue.” He brushed some hair away from Jax’s face, letting his hand linger along the line of his jaw. If Jax didn’t know better, he’d think Volt was about to—

“Wait, he lets you call him ‘Blue’?” 

Dammit, Thad. 

Volt glanced up, like he’d forgotten Thad was even there. “Of course he does, he thinks it’s cute.”

“Huh. When we dated, he always bitched at me to not call him that. Always embarrassed to be mistaken for that hero guy.”

“It’s an easy mistake to make,” Volt said. If he was surprised Thad didn’t know about Jax’s secret identity, he didn’t show it. “But I guess he doesn’t mind when I do it, right Jax?”

Oh. Apparently he’d overheard more of that conversation than Jax had thought. More than that, he’d somehow figured out that Jax wanted to be called Jax, even though Thad hadn’t called him that and Jax hadn’t corrected him. 

“Right. It’s different when it comes from you.” Since he was already committed to this—whatever it was—Jax rested his head on Volt’s shoulder and smiled up at him. “Anyway, why are we talking about what my ex used to call me?”

“Uh, because I’m right here?” Thad was frowning at them. Good. “Sorry, who are you, again? I didn’t catch your name.”

Volt turned all 1000 watts of his smile in Thad’s direction. It might have seemed friendly to most people; most people hadn’t seen the same look on Volt’s face right before he caused an explosion. “That’s because I didn’t give it. I’m Connor. Some people call me Con, but you don’t strike me as one of them.” He held out his free hand for Thad to shake. Amazingly enough, Thad did, though he continued to frown. “I’m Jax’s boyfriend, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

“I think he probably figured that part out, Con,” Jax said, laughing. He figured if Thad wouldn’t use that nickname, then he would. “Oh look, our orders are ready.” They must have called his name a few times, actually, because both his drinks and some monstrosity with Thad’s name on it were sitting on the counter. “I got you a new blend this time, I hope you like it.” He handed Volt—no, Connor , he couldn’t be thinking about the man’s super sexy secret identity when they were literally in each others’ pockets—the drink he’d meant to buy for Sydney. 

“Thanks babe.” Connor took a sip and actually managed not to spit it back out—an impressive feat, given how many shots of espresso Sydney typically asked for. “Well, we should probably get going, it was nice to meet you, Chad—”

“Thad.”

“Thad, right. Great chat, but we have places to—”

“Wait, hang on.” 

Ugh, they were so close.

“We should hang out sometime,” Thad said. “My boyfriend and I are in town for a conference, we should get dinner or something. It’ll be like a double date!”

Jax was pretty sure his fake smile was going to freeze on his face. “A date? I don’t know, we’re pretty busy…”

“I mean,” Thad continued as though he hadn’t spoken, “he’s never gonna believe me when I tell him I ran into you otherwise. I can hardly believe it myself, you finding a guy who’s so perfect for you. I always thought you were too high-maintenance to keep someone around for long.”

That was it. After all the effort he’d put in to make sure Thad never knew about his hero work, Jax was going to out himself by punching the guy right in the nose. His hand curled into a fist. But before he could move, a metal hand clamped around his elbow and turned him away from Thad’s smug, stupid face.

“Text Jax a time and place,” Connor said, steering Jax toward the door, “we’ll see if we can make it work. Nice to meet you, Thad.”

“Oh, yes, nice to—” the rest of his words were drowned out as the door closed between them. 

As soon as they were out of earshot and out of sight, Jax pulled away from Connor and hissed, “Why would you do that?”

“I’m sort of wondering that myself, I would have loved to watch you punch him.”

Jax shook out his fist. “Not that part. I am a little glad you kept me from punching him, if only to keep my identity secret. Why did you pretend we were dating?” 

Connor—Volt? Connor shrugged, tucking his free hand into the pocket of his jacket. “Why wouldn’t I? Seemed like you needed rescuing, hero.” He had kept his sunglasses on the whole time—Jax supposed they were part of his civilian disguise, along with the tight pants and black leather and the hint of cologne that lingered in Jax’s nose. Jax was suddenly acutely aware of his own ensemble: an oversized hoodie, bike shorts, and flip flops. 

“Rescuing people is a hero thing,” Jax pointed out. “And compromising your secret identity to piss off my ex goes above and beyond the terms of our agreement.” He’d convinced Volt to sign a holds-barred agreement, in the end, but it was thin on specifics. Volt, it seemed, was big on privacy. Most of his additions had curtailed Jax’s ability to figure out any personal information about him. Now he was just giving that information away?

“Sure, but lying through my teeth to piss off someone’s ex is exactly the kind of thing a villain would do. And it’s not like you were trying very hard to protect your “secret” identity, I found you on Capesbook immediately. Plus, you run around town with blue hair! How is that secret?”

Now it was Jax’s turn to shrug. “I usually just tell people that I’m a big Blue Streak fanboy. Most of them believe it.” The rest of them pretended to; it wasn’t a great idea to annoy someone who you might need to save you later.

Connor shook his head. “People in this town are so weird about capes, I swear. Anyway, I also decided to jump in because the description of your ‘boyfriend’ sounded awfully familiar.” With a sly, knowing smile he added, “you like my legs, huh?”

Crap. “Only because they can carry you away from this topic of conversation!” Jax shoved him lightly, which was enough to make Connor stagger but not fall. “But I guess I should thank you. I can’t stand that guy, I don’t know why I ever dated him.”

“I guess his legs were okay too,” Connor mused, then raised his metal arm to block the next swipe Jax aimed at him. “Hey! Such abuse from my boyfriend.”

Jax rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well my boyfriend just signed me up for a double date with Thad and whatever poor sucker is dating him now. Why did you do that?”

Connor took a sip of his coffee, grimaced, and held the cup out to look at the label. “Okay seriously, before we keep talking, what is this and why did you order it? There’s enough espresso in here to put you in a coma.”

“It’s for my sidekick and—that’s not the point! Why are we going on a double date? As boyfriends?” Jax still couldn’t get his head around it. His nemesis had just…swooped in, wrapped his arm around him like it was nothing, and proceeded to act more like a boyfriend than most of his actual boyfriends ever had. The worst part was, he’d liked it, and part of him was clamoring for him to shut up and enjoy the fact that they were apparently going to do it again. 

Before answering, Connor took another sip of the dubious coffee. “Think of it this way: when we go on this date, you get to one-up your ex by showing up with someone who’s objectively better than him in every way. And I,” another sip of coffee—did he actually like it? “Get to spend an evening messing with a pair of shallow idiots. You watch, I bet I can convince them to pay for the whole thing, and they’ll think it was all their idea.”

“So you’re…you’re saying this is a plot? You want me to help you deceive my ex so you can get a free dinner?”

“Dinner and a show,” Connor corrected. “And don’t think of it as you helping me. You’ll actually be making sure I don’t do anything even more evil, like draining their bank accounts or hacking into their phones. Very heroic of you.”

“Sitting through dinner with Thad is a heroic endeavor, I agree.” Jax sighed and took a sip of his own drink; it was starting to melt. “Well, if you’re determined to do this, we need to do it right. What’s our story?”

“Our what?”

“You know. How long we’ve been dating, what kinds of dates we’ve been on, all of that stuff. Who made the first move?” Jax hadn’t dated anyone in a while, but he remembered what kinds of questions came up. 

“They’re not going to ask about—”

“Excuse me, did you meet Thad? He will absolutely ask us about that.” They’d be lucky if Thad didn’t ask for intimate details about their sex life. Jax turned to face Connor. “Look, what are you going to say if he asks about our first date? Our first kiss?”

Unless Jax was imagining things, Connor looked…oddly shy about the subject of kissing. He kept his gaze on their joined hands, metal fingers tapping gently against Jax’s skin. “We went to a museum,” he said, “and you showed me those bronzes you like, and I insisted the metalwork could be more impressive.” They actually had done that, although technically Blue Streak had been lecturing ReVolt about the sculptures as Volt tried to steal them. “See? It’s easy. We don’t have to lie, just stretch the truth about what we actually have done. As for the kiss…I’ll leave that up to you.” He did meet Jax’s eyes then, pushed his sunglasses up so Jax could see the sparks dancing in his eyes. “Since it seems you already like to make up stories about dating me. Better make this a good one.” He raised their joined hands, pressed his lips briefly to Jax’s knuckles, and released his grip. “I should go, thanks for the coffee! And hey, Blue,” his armor was already forming around him, encasing his limbs in a protective layer, “if you want to take me on a date so badly, maybe you should ask me out properly sometime.” With that, he strode off, leaving behind a half-drunk cup of too-strong coffee.

Jax stared after him, too stunned to move. Then he turned around and went back to the cafe. If he was going to mope on Sydney’s couch, he’d need to buy them another drink.

Connor

Me: send me a pic of what you’re wearing

Blue 💙 : …why?

Me: because i want to make sure i can be seen in public with you

Blue 💙 : Excuse me??

Me: i saw what you wore to the cafe the other day

Me: not very fancy for a coffee date, was it?

Me: the things I put up with from my boyfriend

Blue 💙 : Hilarious. I’ll have you know it was laundry day.

Me: oh, so you stole someone else’s clothes from the laundromat? not very heroic of you, but it does ease my mind about your fashion sense

Blue 💙 : Not going to dignify that with a response.

Me: you just did ;)

Me: anyway

Me: pics pics pics 

Me: gotta make sure my boyfriend wears something that’ll make his ass look good

Blue 💙 : You truly are a villain.

Blue 💙 : Fine, I will see if Sydney will take some pictures of my options.

Blue 💙 : I MEAN my sidekick. Haha autocorrect right??? Who is Sydney? I don’t know any Sydney.

Blue 💙 : help Syd how do I unsend a text message?

Me: uh babe i have bad news on that front

Me: because 1, you’re still texting me and 2, you can’t delete texts once they’re sent and 3, i already read it

Me: such an embarrassing autocorrect for you

Blue 💙 : Wait, did you just call me babe? Did you mean to do that?

Me: …

Me: idk did you mean to type sidekick or sydney?

Blue 💙 : Please can we pretend this conversation never happened?

Me: sure

Me: as long as you get your “autocorrect” to send me pics of your outfit

Connor wasn’t nervous about the date. He wasn’t worried about sitting in a restaurant for a few hours, making small talk with some idiots while pretending to be a smaller, hotter idiot’s boyfriend. He wasn’t even concerned about Blue wearing something date-worthy, despite his teasing over text. No, the only thing he was really worried about was the possibility that he might slip and act just a little too much like a boyfriend. Ever since their first conversation, he and Blue had danced along a fine line between nemesis banter and outright flirting. They were good at keeping the balance. But after that day in the coffee shop, when he’d wrapped his arm around Blue and Blue had let him, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. About what things could be, if one of them crossed that line.

Connor wasn’t worried about crossing the line. He was terrified.

But as it turned out, he was scared of the wrong thing.

Blue’s ex knew how to pick a restaurant, at least. It was a trendy place with both indoor and outdoor seating, a menu that catered to a range of tastes and dietary needs, and prices that were only a little unreasonable for a mid-level office worker’s budget. Connor, who didn’t work and made his living by stealing from rich people, didn’t have to worry about that, but he was glad of it for Blue’s sake. If they didn’t manage to foist the bill on their dinner companions, it wouldn’t break the bank (although Connor might break into a bank, just for fun).

“Please tell me you’re not planning how to rob this place, I hate causing a scene at a restaurant. The food gets everywhere.” 

And there was Blue, looking tastier than anything on the menu in a floral button-up and pair of glasses Connor was certain he didn’t actually need.

“Nah, I wouldn’t want to intrude on another villain’s territory. It’s criminal how little restaurant workers get paid, so it must be part of someone’s nefarious plan. Besides,” Connor stepped into Blue’s space, making a show of looking him up and down. Without breaking eye contact, he reached out and undid the top button of Blue’s shirt. “I’m starving.”

God, that blush. Connor wasn’t going to survive this meal, he was sure of it. Blue recovered quickly, though; he caught Connor’s hand before he could pull it away and laced their fingers together. 

“If you’re so hungry, maybe we’d better find our table, babe. Wouldn’t want you to start drooling before we get our food.” He tugged Connor toward the door, favoring him with a look that stirred a different kind of hunger in his gut. “I’d invite you somewhere more private for an appetizer, but we don’t want to keep our friends waiting, do we?”

If Blue was serious, Connor would have pointed out that Thad and his boyfriend weren’t their friends, they were targets, and followed that up with a persuasive argument about how Blue’s “appetizer” suggestion was actually a much better plan. If he and Blue were actually dating, he wouldn’t have bothered with words. But he wasn’t, and they weren’t, and the flirting was all part of the plot. 

So all he said was, “No, you’re right. The sooner we get in there, the sooner we can leave.” 

Thad was waiting for them at an outdoor table set for four. “My boyfriend is running late,” he explained, “business at the conference, you know how it is.”

They made polite noises about that, and about the weather, and just when Connor was about to suggest they order something so he’d be less tempted to commit some minor act of villainy, Thad dropped a bomb into the conversation. 

“I have to say, I missed the variety of restaurants here in Townsboro, but if you want the best seafood, you gotta come visit us at the North Coast. That stuff is so fresh it’s practically still breathing, I swear. Wait, do fish breathe?”

“The North Coast?” Jax must have picked up on the way Connor went stiff beside him, because he let a hand drift under the table to give Connor’s knee a reassuring squeeze. “I thought you moved to Port Crossing.” 

“Oh! I did, but there wasn’t really enough to hold my interest there. You know me, always moving on. No rolling stones on this moss, or whatever. My boyfriend though, he’s a lifer, been living in the North Coast area forever. He’s like, super popular too, everyone knows him and he knows everyone.”

“Is that…is that so.” The words came out remarkably steady, considering how hard Connor was finding it to breathe. It was a coincidence. It had to be. The North Coast was a big place, there was no way—

“Actually, have you ever been up that way, Connor? When I was describing you two to Hunter—that’s my boyfriend—he thought you sounded familiar.”

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t.

“Connor lived around there for a while, right babe?” Jax was obviously trying to cover for him; concern bled through his voice and the hand holding firm on Connor’s thigh. He wished he could appreciate that, but the sound of his heartbeat was rapidly overpowering every other sound.

Well. Almost every sound.

“For a while? Oh, no, he lived there much longer than that. Dear Connor is a North Coast lifer, just like me.”

This couldn’t be happening, but it was.

“Babe, you made it!” Thad, oblivious to the tension crackling through the air, stood up to pull out a chair for the man who’d just arrived. “Jaxon, Connor, this is my boyfriend, Hunter. But it looks like you two do know each other. How fun!”

Hunter allowed Thad to kiss him on the cheek and settle him into his chair, but he never took his eyes off Connor. “Oh, yes. Connor and I go way back. I thought he was like me: birth to death by the wild sea, as they say. And yet here you are in Townsboro.”

“Here he is,” Jax said. “I guess he wasn’t a ‘lifer’ after all.” He kept trying to catch Connor’s eye, glancing worriedly between him and Hunter. He was trying to help, and some distant part of Connor appreciated that, but there was no helping this. 

“Yes. Funny how that happens. I honestly thought you’d die on North Coast soil.” Hunter leaned close, smiling like they were sharing a joke. “It’s been so long, I actually thought you did.” He rested a hand on the table, then lifted it slightly, like he was going to move it forward and lay it on top of Connor’s.

That was enough to snap Connor out of his frozen state. “Excuse me,” he said, pushing to his feet. “I’ll be right back.” He shook off Jax’s hand, muttered something about ordering for him if he wasn’t back soon, and fled.

By the time he reached the bathroom, sparks streamed from his eyes, cascading over his skin in a torrent of frenetic energy. Power poured into his metal arm, raising error codes as levels hit critical capacity. Should have installed a surge protector, he thought, and started to laugh, weak at first but louder and more maniacal the longer it went on. No. He couldn’t do this here. He couldn’t let himself fall apart in public, couldn’t let Jax see him like this. He could control this. He could fix this. 

Connor breathed, and lied to himself, and lit up the bathroom with electricity until his breath evened out and his heart stopped beating so fast. Bit by painstaking bit, he pulled the power back under his skin, hid it away until he looked almost like a civilian again. There was no helping his eyes, but it was sunny out; between that and the sunglasses, maybe no one would question the extra light. He could go back out there and get through this. He could. 

“Livewire. A word.”

He couldn’t, because Hunter came to find him first.

“I don’t have any words for you, Surge.” He’d done his best to ensure he’d never have to talk to Hunter again.

“Really? After all the years we spent together, you can’t find anything to say to me? I’m hurt, Livewire, I really am.” He leaned against the door, perfectly composed in business casual and affected concern. Connor wondered if there had even been a conference, or if it had all been a ruse to come looking for him. 

“I think I made myself clear enough, the last time we spoke.” He couldn’t let Hunter keep talking to him; that was how he twisted things to suit himself, every single time. He was never unreasonable, never unkind, always wounded that someone might think badly of his motives. And yet he never, ever left a conversation without getting exactly what he wanted. It had taken Connor years to see it, years of giving and giving until he had nothing left to give. He wasn’t going through that again. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.” He thought for a moment that Hunter would block him from leaving, but he simply stood aside when Connor reached for the door, wearing his best disappointed expression.

“You can run, Livewire, but you can’t escape who you are. Who you’re meant to be. Play the villain all you like, but heroes know their duty. You’ll come back to yours soon enough.” 

He may have said more, but Connor wasn’t listening. He flung himself through the door, away from Hunter—and directly into Blue. 

“Volt—I mean, Connor, what—” Blue steadied him, heedless of the sparks. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t.” Everything was too much; he had to get away from here. “I have to go.” He pushed his way toward the exit. Blue followed.

“I don’t understand! Connor, wait, talk to me.” 

“Not now. Not here.” Somewhere back there, Hunter was waiting for him. Watching as everything Connor had so carefully pieced together over the past months fell apart. He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t give Blue the answers he wanted.

But Blue wasn’t giving up so easily. “Then we’ll go somewhere else! Just tell me what’s going on, Connor, please.” 

They were outside now, and Connor could finally put some of his spare energy to use. The plates of his armor unfolded, placing a welcome barrier between him and the world. Safer, but not safe. Not far enough away from the danger. Maybe there was nowhere far enough. 

“I won’t wait for you,” Connor warned, and then he ran.

Townsboro was nothing like the North Coast, not in the way it treated its capes and not in the way it was built. Here, if someone ran through town in full power armor, people moved out of the way but didn’t otherwise react. Even the sparks trailing after him barely drew a glance. He jumped from the street to a bridge, from the bridge to an overpass and across the highway to another group of high rises. Cars honked at him, pedestrians shouted for him to watch where he was going, but no one tried to stop him. No one gave chase.

No one but Blue, who kept pace just behind him. When Connor finally stopped, panting, on the edge of a roof overlooking the city, Blue came and stood by his side. His hair was windblown, and the outfit Connor had picked out for him—was that just this afternoon? Was rumpled and soaked with sweat. He wasn’t breathing hard though, showed no sign of the distress Connor felt. He waited for Connor’s harsh gasps for air to settle before he spoke.

“So?” He took a step closer, but left some space between them. “Who was that guy? Why did he call you a hero?”

Exhaustion caught up with Connor all at once. He was so tired of all of this. Maybe Hunter was right; maybe he couldn’t escape who he was. Maybe there had never been any point in trying to be someone else, here in this place where no one knew him. Either way, there was no point in trying to hide it now. Blue already knew too much.

“He called me a hero because I was one.”

He waited for the reaction, but none came; Blue only watched him, waiting.

Well, fine. He’d tell it all.

“When we first met, you explained to me about how capes work here—the nemesis pairs, the guild rules, the contracts. You know it doesn’t work like that up north, right?” At Blue’s nod, he kept going. “Right. They have a guild, but it only exists for heroes to connect. They give you a little training, you get good, and you stay alive…or you don’t. And sometimes…sometimes you find a hero you click with, and you work together. Partners.” He felt the bitterness of the word on his tongue, and wondered how he could make Blue understand.

“The system works…if you’re a hero. The right kind of hero. Strong, charming, pretty enough to go on TV. Willing to pour everything you have into the cape business. The Guild plays favorites, and if you’re not on their good list, things can get rough for you. And it’s worse for the villains. They don’t have holds-barred agreements up there—anything goes. They’re desperate up there, hungry, struggling for anything they can do to keep a foothold. And so—” he was rambling. He needed to get on with it. “There was this bright young hero. Livewire. He produced energy, a human battery, and he could do so much with it. Lightning followed him wherever he went. He could build things and power them with his own body. And then…he met Power Surge. Another hero, one who couldn’t generate power on his own, but could focus it, redirect whatever someone else threw at him. And he did that with people, too. He collected the ones he found useful, and found ways for them to be better.” Bile rose in his throat. He’d tried so hard to be better, to be what Surge expected of him. “He asked Livewire to team up, and Livewire agreed. Individually they were powerful, but together? Unstoppable.” 

For years, Connor had believed that, lived in the world where all that mattered was power and the hands that could wield it. “It didn’t last, though. It couldn’t. Livewire was…struggling. Started making mistakes, and making things worse when he tried to fix them. He’d been doing the hero thing so long, and spent so long tied to Power Surge, that he…forgot.”

“Forgot what?” Blue had moved closer, attention wholly focused on the story.

“He forgot why he wanted to be a hero in the first place. Who he was, without the cape.” It crept up on him quietly, the realization that he’d lost himself somewhere. Livewire had become all there was of him; Connor was buried deep, wearing the cape like a shroud. “Eventually, he realized he was never going to find himself again if he stayed where he was. So he told his partner he wanted to quit. As you can probably guess, Power Surge didn’t like that.”

The fights had lasted for days, long stretches of silence peppered with pointed remarks. Hunter never shouted— it was beneath him. He merely showed Connor, at every opportunity, what giving up would mean, what he’d be leaving behind. He hadn’t understood how much had already been lost.

“There was no reasoning with him. Surge wouldn’t let go. So Livewire…did what he had to do.”

“So you fought him?” Blue was quiet for a moment, then asked, “did you try to kill him?”

He hadn’t, not seriously. He’d known there was no winning that fight. He hadn’t expected it to go so badly, though, and the North Coast had paid the price.

“No, Blue. I couldn’t. So I killed Livewire.” He turned to look at Blue—really look at him. He had all the qualities they’d have loved up north—he was pretty, and brave, and reckless enough to plunge into things he should have left alone. He’d have fit in there, right up until someone tougher came along and put an end to him. “You remember the mortuary school I put on my nemesis application?”

Blue blinked, surprised by the change in subject. “Yes?” 

Connor allowed himself a rueful smile. “They helped me. I’d made friends with some of the employees there; they liked it when heroes were willing to come by and identify bodies, explain what powers they had.” There had been a lot of bodies; some friends, some foes, all of them so poor they’d ended up as practice for the latest crop of morticians. Connor had cried over every single one. “When I told them I was getting out, they helped. Made a fake autopsy report. There had been a fire; a John Doe too far gone to identify. He became me, and I…came here.”

“And you became a villain?”

“I didn’t mean to.” He’d meant to hang up his cape for good. “My si—my henchperson—” oh, fuck it, “--my sister took me in. She told me I didn’t have to do the hero thing anymore, but I had to find an outlet for my powers before I fried every electronic device in her apartment. She said it was different here, I could do it on the side and just…exist, the rest of the time. So I decided—how much different would it be, on the other side? I could still do some good as a villain, if I picked targets who deserved it. And if I accidentally got it wrong, well, who would know? No one cares if a villain messes up and does something evil. They’re supposed to! So I answered your ad, and…here we are.”

Blue nodded. “Here we are.” He took another step—why did he keep coming closer? He knew Connor was a mess, knew he was a burned-out hero and not a bone-deep villain. “A hero on his nemesis, on a rooftop, silhouetted against the setting sun while one of them monologues.” Another step. He raised a hand to Connor’s face, close enough to touch but not touching. “Kind of romantic, isn’t it?”

“What?” Connor couldn’t take it, couldn’t understand why Blue was looking at him like that when he should have been looking at him with horror, disgust, something . “Didn’t you hear what I said? What he said? I can’t be your nemesis—I should never have tried.”

“And why not?” Blue folded his arms, but he didn’t back away. “You said it yourself—Livewire is dead. But ReVolt is alive, and he’s my nemesis, no matter what some smooth-talker from the North Coast says about it.”

“But I can’t just—he won’t let it rest now that he knows I’m alive. He knows I’m here.” A thought struck him, a punch to the gut on top of all the other bruises. “He knows who you are. Thad might not be smart enough to put two and two together, but Hunter is—he’ll know you’re Blue Streak, he’ll find out all about you, he’ll get into your head—”

“He won’t, because it’s none of his business who my nemesis is. Why would I listen to him?”

“Why would you listen to me? I’ve been lying to you from the beginning. Why are you still acting like you trust me?”

“Because I do trust you!” Blue ran a hand through his hair—it was standing up in all directions now, strands tinged gold by the setting sun—and let out a long breath. “I trust you, because we signed an agreement and you haven’t broken that, have you? We agreed that you were a villain. I knew you might lie about some things—that’s part of the deal, to mess with each other and see who comes out on top. But you never told me you weren’t a hero, and you’ve never lied about the things I actually needed to know. And now you’ve told me everything, so why would I stop trusting you now?”

“You shouldn’t.” Blue didn’t know everything. Connor didn’t know how to make him understand without telling him, and he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Heroes were stubborn; Blue was one of the most stubborn he’d ever met. He’d been like that once, but he had no idea how to convince someone that it was time to just give up. “And it doesn’t matter if you trust me or not, because I can’t do this anymore. It’s over.”

“What?” Realization was dawning in Blue’s eyes, understanding and hurt mingling together. “What are you saying?”

He had to do it. He knew it; Blue didn’t believe it, but someday he would. This was for the best. “I’m saying we’re done. I can’t be your nemesis anymore, Blue. I’m sorry.” He stepped back, and this time Blue didn’t follow him. It was a long dive off the roof, but not too long for either of them to manage. Connor jumped. If Blue watched him go, he didn’t turn around to find out.

Jax

“He just left me, Sydney! He didn’t even give me a chance to say goodbye!” Jax had managed to wait a whole fifteen minutes after he got home: he’d changed out of his “date night” outfit and into his super suit, paced around his apartment a dozen times trying not to break everything he touched, and talked himself into (and out of) going back out to beg Volt to change his mind. The last time he’d gotten halfway out the window before good sense kicked in. At that point, he’d given up and called his sidekick. Sydney was on their way back from visiting family out of town, so their couch wasn’t available for moping. Jax had to mope on his own couch instead. 

“And? You just let him go?”

“I tried to talk him out of it! I even did the whole ‘we’re alone on this rooftop and you’re monologuing at me, how romantic’ line, and he didn’t even acknowledge it! I don’t get it, Syd—he’s a great villain, and it’s not like ‘fallen hero’ is that unusual of an origin story. Why doesn’t he understand that?” He covered his face with his free hand. “Maybe there really is something wrong with me. No one wants to be my nemesis, no matter what I do or say. I really thought it was going to work this time, but—he’s gone.” Maybe he really should hang up his cape.

The sigh over the phone line spoke louder than any words Sydney could have said. “Seriously, Blue?”

“What?”

“Don’t what me, Jaxon Odell.” Sydney’s usual level of fond exasperation took on a sharp edge. “Why are you acting like this is about you? You’re freaking out because ReVolt ran away from you—how do you think he’s feeling right now? This isn’t like all those guys who couldn’t handle the whole Blue Streak experience. He’s not running from you, he’s dealing with his own shit. And instead of using that super stubbornness to help him out of a bad situation, you’re leaving him to deal with it all on his own!”

“But—” He had no response for that. “What am I supposed to do, then? He obviously doesn’t want me around.”

“No, he obviously doesn’t want you to get hurt. Listen,” Sydney said, “You like him, right? As more than just a nemesis. Don’t lie,” they added, as Jax drew breath to deny it.

Jax exhaled. “Of course I do! Why wouldn’t I? He’s insanely hot, he’s funny, and when we’re facing off I feel like I’ve found a nemesis who really understands me, you know? I want to fight him and take him on dates and take him home, and then wake up the next day and do the same thing.”

He didn’t just want to be Volt’s nemesis, he wanted to be Volt’s. Connor’s. Whatever name he went by, Jax wanted to be with him. And he’d picked the worst time to figure it out.

“Great. So tell him that.”

“Weren’t you listening? I can’t, he ended our agreement and ran away. I don’t even know where he lives.”

“So he ended your agreement? In those words?”

Blue frowned. What did the wording matter? “Yes?”

“Then there’s no problem. Hold on, I’ll text you his address.”

“Wait, what? Sydney, no, I’m not allowed to—”

“You’re not allowed to try to find out personal information about him, according to the agreement that he just ended. You can do whatever you want now, Blue. So go. Find him, and tell him what you told me, and use all your super-stubbornness to win him back.”

Oh. Powers or no powers, Sydney was more of a hero than Blue Streak could ever be. “You’re amazing!” He sprang off the couch. “Thanks Syd, I love you, I’ll call you back.”

Sydney snorted, but Jax thought they sounded pleased. “I love you too, you dumbass. Now go do something stupid and get your guy.”

Jax hung up the phone and swiped through it, looking for the text messages. He nearly dropped it when it vibrated—and then rang. “What is it, Syd? Did you want to just give me directions over the phone?”

“Oh, this isn’t ‘Syd’, but I do have some directions for you.”

That voice. It was sort of familiar, but Jax couldn’t place it. “Sorry, who is this?”

“We met earlier today, Jaxon Odell. Or should I call you Blue Streak?”

Okay, so that wasn’t great. But Jax knew what a threat sounded like, and he could deal with them. “What do you want?”

“The question is, do you want to see your ‘boyfriend’ again before he leaves? I thought you might like a chance to say goodbye.”

“Good…goodbye? What are you talking about?” Jax didn’t have a boyfriend, so this guy must be talking about Connor…which meant… “What did you do to him, Hunter?”

Hunter—Jax couldn’t remember his hero name, and wasn’t sure he really wanted to use it anyway—laughed. “I didn’t do anything, he made the choice himself. He did tell you he was leaving, didn’t he? He claimed he did, but you know how he is. Livewire says one thing, then turns around and leaves you when you least expect it.” 

A cold weight settled in Jax’s stomach. He didn’t want to believe what this guy was saying, but it made a certain amount of sense, didn’t it? Connor had just told him that he’d run away from his old life. If he was running away from this one—Jax couldn’t let that happen. “I’ll stop him. I’m on my way to him right now, I’ll reason with him.”

“Oh, it’s too late for that. But like I said, I thought you should have a chance to talk to him before he goes. I can tell you how to find him, if you want. Turn left.”

Jax hadn’t even noticed he’d run out of his apartment. He looked around, hoping to spot an observer, but there was no one. He put the phone back to his ear and turned left. “What’s in this for you?”

“So mistrustful, Jaxon. Livewire has been telling you all kinds of lies about me, I’m sure. The truth is, I hate to see him leave any more destruction in his wake than he already has. You’ve figured it out, right? Why he left the North Coast?”

“What?”

“Surely you heard about it, even down here. So much of the city was destroyed when our bright young hero flamed out. Such a tragedy. I’m sure there will be many people who are very interested to know he’s still alive, living as a villain. Take a right at the next intersection.”

Several pieces fit together then, a horrifying jigsaw of what Hunter was saying and what Connor hadn’t said. There was…a fire. Livewire did what he had to do. Of course he’d heard about the explosions that decimated the North Coast last year. Everyone thought it was a young hero who couldn’t take the pressure, gone rogue before anyone could help him control his powers. Everyone thought he’d died in the explosion.

His final conversation with Connor looked different in this light. I trust you. You shouldn’t. He’d been warned away, but he hadn’t listened.

Then again…he distinctly remembered promising he wouldn’t listen to anything Hunter said, either.

Despite the chill spreading through his body, Jax kept his voice even. “I don’t believe you,” he said. It couldn’t be true. But then again…it didn’t matter, did it? Not if the man on the phone was really as well-connected as Thad claimed he was. If Connor was really leaving Townsboro, where Jax could look out for him—he could be running straight into a trap. Jax had to warn him.

“Don’t you? That’s a pity. But it doesn’t matter, really. I already got what I needed.”

“What? What are you—?” The phone went dead. Jax stopped to stare at it. “What did he mean, he got what he needed?”

And then a hand wrapped around him from behind, covering his face with a foul-smelling cloth. Jax gasped in surprise, started to struggle—and the world went black.

Connor

“Okay, I need you to slow down and take a deep breath for me, Con. Can you do that?”

“I don’t have time to breathe, Ken! I have to go!” Connor held up two seemingly-identical black t-shirts—did he need both of them? Sure, why not—and tossed them in the direction of his suitcase. “Hunter found me, which means he’ll find you if he hasn’t already, and I’m not putting you in danger like that.”

Kendra plucked the shirts off the ground where they’d landed—so his aim wasn’t great when he was stressed, sue him—and started to fold them. “What do you think he’s going to do to me? Just because I never got into the cape business full-time like you did, that doesn’t mean I’m defenseless. If that man comes anywhere near me, I’ll kick his ass so hard he’ll feel it in his sinuses.” Shirts folded to her satisfaction, Kendra returned them to the drawer and smacked Connor’s hand when he reached for them. “And I’m about to kick your ass too. Stop freaking out and think! What good does it do for you to leave?”

“I’ll keep everyone here safe!”

“Will you? Or will you just be somewhere else when your shitty ex decides to mess with us? You can’t believe he’s really going to leave your new boyfriend alone.”

Connor paused his frantic sorting. “Wait, what? Who said anything about Blue? I mean—I don’t have a boyfriend, what are you talking about? Blue isn’t my boyfriend.”

Kendra plucked another shirt from the pile. “You’re the one whose mind immediately went there, Con. And the hour-long conversation I overheard about what outfit a certain blue-haired hero should wear for a dinner date says you’re full of shit.”

“But he’s not…we’re not!”

“And does Hunter know that?”

She was right. Hunter hadn’t talked to Blue—he and Connor hadn’t talked about anything but their shared past. For all Hunter knew, they really were dating. Which meant—

“Oh, shit. Hunter’s going to go after Blue!” No time for clothes—he’d just have to buy more when he got wherever he was going. “Don’t you see, Ken? This is why I have to leave. Hunter wants me, if I go he’ll leave the rest of you alone.”

“He will not! Connor, I swear—”

Both of their phones started to vibrate. The computer monitors on Connor’s desk flickered, then flared to life. A face appeared, scowling into the camera like it had personally wronged them. Before Connor could say anything, they pointed at him. 

“YOU!”

“What the hell?” Connor went to his keyboard and started typing, trying to pull up some code to explain what was happening. Every time he started, something—some one— shut him down. “What is this?”

“I warned you! I said if you fucked with Blue I would fuck with you . What did you do to him?”

“Blue? What? I—” a lightbulb went off somewhere in Connor’s head. “Wait, are you…Sydney? You’re his sidekick, the one who actually knows how to use a computer?” From what Connor could tell, they knew a little more than that—they were making his security system look like Swiss cheese. “I didn’t do anything! I told him why I had to end it! It’s better this way, I swear.”

“Do you think I care about that? I want to know where he is. I sent that dumbass to your apartment to try to make up with you—don’t know why I bothered, except he’s SO much easier to deal with when he’s not miserable—and then nothing! He dropped off the map, he’s not answering my calls, and I want to know what you did.” Several devices were beeping in the other room—Kendra swore and sprinted out.

“You sent him…here?” Connor didn’t know what to do with that. “When? I haven’t seen him since…since the rooftop.” Since he’d fucked up the best thing in his life, as Kendra had so succinctly put it.

“He never got to you?” The scowl on Sydney’s face melted into something more troubled. “If he didn’t get to you, then…maybe someone got to him.” They started typing; Connor couldn’t see their hands, but he could hear the clacking of keys. “Tell me, ReVolt, do you know where that ghost from your past is staying while he’s in town? I can find it, but it’ll take a minute, and I don’t know how much time we have.”

If Hunter had Blue, Connor didn’t want to wait, either. “I don’t need to know the address. I’m going after him.”

“But the address—” 

“When you find it, give it to Kendra and tell her to call—I don’t know, whoever in this town can be trusted to go after a raging narcissist with superpowers.” Connor was already forming his armor. “I don’t need it.”

Connor could always find someone he cared about. And right now, just when it looked like he might lose him forever, he was finally starting to see how deeply he cared about Blue. I’m in love with that dumbass, his brain helpfully supplied. Then, and I'm still not a poet. That was all right, though. He had better ways to show his feelings.

“Ken? I’m going out!”

“You’re going—what the hell, Connor, you better not be running away!”

Connor turned to look at her, his fierce sister who held half his heart. “Not this time, Ken. This time I’m going to do the hero thing.” And then he jumped out the window, and pointed his compass to his heart’s other half.

Jax

Jax woke up and immediately regretted it. His head hurt. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. Usually when he ran headfirst into things, his skull was tough enough to handle it. But he hadn’t run into a wall or a car or a tree this time, had he? No. The only thing he’d run into was trouble.

Apart from his head, his body felt fine, although he suspected he’d eventually get uncomfortable from being spread-eagled, hands and feet bound to some kind of machine. Jax tugged at the cuffs, but they clearly had some kind of power-dampening effect going on; he couldn’t break them, and couldn’t get enough leverage to see if he could break them against something else. 

Great. Okay. He couldn’t use his powers, so he’d have to use his brain, instead. That was fine.

It was obvious who’d done this—he’d been stupid to trust that Hunter guy. He’d gotten so used to Volt, who’d been willing to do things the Townsboro way, that he’d forgotten what capes from other towns could be like. Now some jumped-up excuse for a hero—not that he even deserved the name—was using him to get back at his nemesis. Jax wasn’t going to stand by and let that happen.

Well. He did have to stand here, for now. But he was going to find a way out of this.

Connor

It was easy enough to find where they were keeping Blue. Connor’s compass took him directly to one of the big hotels downtown, the ones with insane amounts of insurance in case of fight damage. There were signs advertising some kind of “Organizational Networking” conference all over the place—maybe Hunter really was in town for work, that sounded like his kind of thing—and everyone in this town was so used to seeing capes around, no one batted an eye when Connor walked through the lobby and got on an elevator. He’d left his armor in its most minimal form to make it easier to maneuver, but his whole body flared with electricity. There was no point in hiding it now, was there? Now that Hunter knew, everyone would find out that Livewire hadn’t died back then. Rumors of a villain who trailed sparks in his wake wouldn’t matter anymore.

What mattered now was Blue. Connor had no idea what he was going to do, how he was going to save the man he loved from the man who was out to destroy him. All he knew was that he had to try, and he’d go down fighting anyone who tried to stop him.

With that in mind, he had no regrets about grabbing Thad by the throat and shoving him against the wall when he stepped through a door and nearly walked into Connor.

“Hgk!”

“Thaddeus! Nice to see you again.”

“Hghhk?”

Okay, maybe Connor needed to ease up if he wanted Thad to be able to answer questions. He shifted his grip to the man’s shoulders instead. “Right, sorry. Got carried away. Where is Blue?”

“Blue—you mean Jaxon?” He squinted at Connor’s face, which was mostly uncovered but dripping with sparks. “Oh shit, are you the boyfriend? I had no idea you were a cape, that’s badass!”

Oh right, Thad was an idiot who had managed to date Blue for however long without suspecting he was a hero. Connor was going to have to be careful about this.

“Yeah, sorry, it didn’t come up during dinner. Speaking of boyfriends, where’s yours?” Wherever Hunter was, Blue would probably be nearby. 

“Hunter? I dunno, I think he was in one of those fancy conference rooms on the fourth floor, he said something about a big presentation tonight. He works so hard, you know, he’s getting a promotion soon.”

“I’m so happy for him.”

Thad, master of social cues, beamed. “Yeah, me too! He’s the best.” Then he seemed to remember that Connor had him pinned to a wall, and his smile faded. “Hey, we’re cool, right? Only you left dinner before we actually got any food, and Hunter was all weird after you left. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had some kind of problem with me.”

“I—” Problem didn’t even begin to describe it.

“I mean, I get it, I’m dating your ex and you’re jealous, but like, consolation prize, you’re with Jaxon now, right? Maybe he’s a little boring, and kind of a wimp about spicy food, but the sex is like, fine—hghk!”

Yeah, Connor was done with this conversation. “Listen, Thad, it’s been great chatting, but—and listen very carefully—I’m going to need you to go back through that door, lock yourself in, and just—fucking stay there, okay? And then tomorrow you’re going to check out of this hotel, and go home, and never. Ever. Contact me or my boyfriend again. All right? And if you call Hunter, or tell him you saw me here, I will find you and you will not be going home. Are we clear?”

It was evidently hard to nod when someone was holding your throat, but Thad managed.

“Great. Have a nice night.” Connor kicked the door open, shoved Thad inside, and headed for the elevators.

Sometimes, being a villain was pretty great.

The fourth floor conference room looked…well, it looked like a conference room, except for the part where there was a secret button on the back of the water cooler that made the whiteboard swing out and reveal a secret room. It would have taken Connor longer to find it, except someone had helpfully written the instructions on the corner of the whiteboard along with the wifi password. 

Connor pushed the button. The whiteboard opened. And there was Blue.

“Hey, hero.”

“Hey babe.” Blue was stuck in some kind of power-dampener—the type that weakened most abilities enough to make them useless, Connor had seen it before—but otherwise appeared to be unharmed. Connor felt something loosen in his chest. “I know this is a bad time to realize this about myself, but being tied up like this? Kiiinda working for me, if you know what I mean. If we had time, I’d really love for you to monologue about all your nefarious plots.”

This time when Connor laughed, he made no effort to turn it into something maniacal. He was already crazy for this guy; there was no need to pretend. “You’re ridiculous. Hang on, let me get you out of that.”

Blue grinned at him. “If you’re sure. Maybe we can recreate this scenario later, hmm? I wonder how much it costs to rent this place.”

If they got out of this, Connor would buy Blue as many power-dampening cuffs as he wanted. “I’m sure we can figure something out,” he said absently, studying the control panel. There were more helpful instructions next to it, laid out on a series of post-its, but he was getting impatient. “This might sting a bit.”

“Wait, what—whoa!” 

Connor sent a surge of electricity into the control panel, frying every circuit in it. As he’d hoped, it cut power to the cuffs on Blue’s wrists and ankles. They fell away, leaving Blue free. He flexed his wrists, shook his legs out, and stepped away from the machine. 

“Well, that’s one way to do it—oh! Hey.”

“Hey, Blue.” Connor tugged the hero close, softening his armor so the edges wouldn’t catch against Blue’s suit. “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

“Not if I kiss you first,” Blue said, and did.

Connor would have liked to take longer to appreciate it: the feeling of Blue’s lips against his, the way their bodies pressed together, the way his energy danced over Blue’s skin but didn’t hurt him. Unfortunately, Hunter chose that moment to show up.

“Do you mind?”

Blue seemed equally reluctant to break the kiss, but he recovered faster than Connor did. “Um, do you mind? We’re kind of having a moment here.”

“You’re my prisoner, you’re not allowed to have romantic moments with my partner!”

“Ex- partner,” Connor corrected, “and now that I think about it, we were never really partners at all, were we Surge?” He let Blue go, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, and mouthed, run. Then he turned to face Hunter. “We always did what you wanted, because you knew best, and you were always the one with the plan to save the day. But that’s not how partnerships work.” He stepped forward, edging to the side so Blue would hopefully have a clearer shot at the door. There was no way either of them could beat Hunter one-on-one. Even with both of them together, they wouldn’t stand a chance; Power Surge could redirect any energy ReVolt threw at him. At least if Blue ran, there was a chance he’d avoid getting hit with the full brunt of Connor’s power. 

The only problem was, Blue wasn’t running. And Hunter was looking right at him. But when he spoke, he directed his words to Connor.

“Fine words, Livewire, from someone who runs away from all his problems. You want to talk to me about partnership? Show me someone who can actually put up with your lies and cowardice and live to tell the tale. All those civilians who relied on you—you let them down when you left, didn’t you? You let me down. And look at the destruction your selfishness caused. Tell me, will your precious “Blue” be able to look you in the eye, once you’ve left a swath of his city in ruin?”

Oh no. Blue wasn’t moving, wasn’t reacting, which meant Hunter had already told him. Livewire’s name had been all over the news, splashed across headlines. Blue would be able to look it up, or have Sydney do it. He’d see what everyone saw. A destroyed city looked like a destroyed city; electrical damage looked like electrical damage, no matter whose hand the energy had passed through. He’d known back then that no one would believe him, so he’d done his best to make sure no one would ever ask.

But then Blue…sighed. And as Connor watched, baffled and not a little terrified about how calm he was about all of this, he fished around in his spandex and pulled out his blocky phone. 

“I was going to let you two have your little showdown, but now you’re playing dirty and I’m tired of it. I want to go home and kiss my boyfriend, not listen to you say nasty things about him.” The phone’s dial tone gave way to a voice on the other end, and Blue turned slightly away in order to talk. “Yes, hello. This is Blue Streak, hero ID number 2975. I’d like to file a complaint.” He waited for a moment, tapping his foot against the burned-out control panel. “Yes, hi, this is Blue Streak. I’ve been kidnapped by a rogue villain—sorry, technically a hero, but I only have his word for that. No, not my nemesis. He’s actually using me to interfere with my nemesis, which completely goes against article 4, section 2 of—right, of course, you know. No, we do not have a holds-barred agreement. He’s not from around here, but still—right. Yes, thanks, I appreciate it. Always happy to work with the Guild.” He hung up and put his phone away. “What are you two staring at?”

“What…was that?” Connor asked, looking from Blue to Hunter to make sure he hadn’t hallucinated the past two minutes. From the expression on Hunter’s face, he didn’t think he had. 

“I’m certain I explained how we do things here,” Blue said, reaching for Connor’s hand and pulling him away from Hunter. “It’s too bad for your ex-partner here that no one explained things to him. In this town we have a heroes guild, not a bunch of puffed-up bullies with capes.”

“Why, you little—” Hunter reached for Blue, and Connor braced himself to pull Blue out of the way, but before he could, the wall exploded.

A few months ago, Connor hadn’t known their names, but he’d dodged their fights on his way to meet Blue for the first time. Now he knew most of them, if not by name than at least by how their powers manifested as they went about their cape business. Soda Ash and Freeze Pop, standing together for once instead of firing at each other. The Trouble Teens, obviously summoned in the middle of their gym class—half of them were holding dodgeballs. The Mad Gnatter and his swarm, Apeshifter looking ready to punch, and dozens of others. They came in blazing, filling the room and several open areas that used to be rooms. All of them were pointing their weapons at Hunter.

“And this,” Blue said, “is why I keep my guild membership active.”

Hunter stared at the assembled capes—because they weren’t just heroes here, were they? Connor counted at least as many villains among them—and started to laugh.

The capes bristled. Blue held up a hand, and they held their positions. “Something funny?”

“It’s just—you’re throwing all this power at me—me! Like you think it’ll help. But you’re all fools. No matter what you throw at me, I’ll throw it back tenfold. You know, don’t you Livewire? You’ve seen it. It was beautiful, wasn’t it, the way your power scorched through the city. You really thought you’d killed me, but you couldn’t. None of you can!” He stalked around the room, leering at the ever-widening circle. “So do your worst, little capes—I’ll take you down and your pathetic little town with you.”  

“No, you won’t.” Connor set his hand on the control panel for the power dampener. His energy sizzled through it, filling it to the brim. The lights flickered on, and the manacles that had bound Blue snapped around Hunter’s wrists and ankles. “You won’t hurt anyone again. It’s over.”

And this time, when he said the words, he actually believed them.

Jax

It took an unreasonable amount of time for someone to fix the power-dampening machine so it could run on some power other than ReVolt’s. Jax waited patiently through the whole thing—by which he meant, he hardly complained at all —and the moment it was done, he dragged Connor out of the room. The hotel had roof access, which was great; he didn’t want an audience for this, but he did want a suitably dramatic backdrop. The city skyline at night would do nicely.

Of course, Connor had to ruin his carefully planned-out speech by kissing him senseless the moment they got through the door, but that was all right. It was more or less the result Jax had been hoping for anyway.

Eventually though, Connor pulled back and looked at him, worrying at his lower lip. “Blue,” he said, and wow, Jax was not going to get tired of the way Connor said that version of his name, “You understand what Surge…what Hunter was saying earlier, right? 

“You mean the way he tried to pin the North Coast disaster on you, but pretty much admitted to using your powers to do it himself? Yeah, I heard.”

He could actually feel the tension draining from Connor’s body. The thrum of electricity surrounding him faded too, though it still tickled over Jax’s skin in all the places where they overlapped. 

“Oh. Okay. I wasn’t sure…I wanted to tell you, but…”

Jax reached up to brush the hair off Connor’s forehead. “Hey. It’s okay. You’ve been through a lot, I get why you didn’t want to talk about it. And I meant what I said before. You told me everything I needed to know to accept you as my nemesis, and the rest of it you showed me. Every time we fight, every one of your nefarious plots, every time you text me something and add a winky face—I know who you are. I know you, and I trust you.”

“Okay.” Connor leaned forward, resting his head against Jax’s hand. “Um. Speaking of things you said earlier. Were you serious?”

“Probably.” Taking the touch as permission, Jax brought his other hand up to rest on Connor’s shoulder. “But I said a lot of things. Which one do you mean?”

As close as they were, Connor couldn’t hide the blush that spread over his face, or his other reaction to Jax’s touch. There were no lights up here, but Connor made his own, beautiful sparks dancing over his skin. It had felt funny at first, a buzzy tingle that warmed the skin, but Jax was getting used to it. He was kind of into it, actually, and had already added it to the list of things he wanted to experiment with when they had more time. 

“I mean…before the phone call. You said you wanted to go home and kiss your boyfriend.” He raised his eyes to meet Jax’s, and the spark in them looked like hope. “Were you serious? Or were you just saying that because Hunter thought we were dating? I’m kind of…not sure what we are, now.”

Honestly, after the past few days, Jax wasn’t sure either. He didn’t know what they were doing, hadn’t known since Connor saved him in the coffee shop. But he knew what he wanted.

“I was serious. If you want to be, that is.” He tilted his head up. “We make pretty good boyfriends, don’t we?”

“But…we make a good nemesis pair too.” 

“I don’t see why we can’t do both,” Jax said, stretching up on his toes. “Go to work from 9-5. Fight from 6-9, except on alternate Fridays and weekends.” Maybe they could take off every Friday—he liked the idea of Friday date nights. 

“And after nine?” Connor leaned in too, lips not quite touching Jax’s.

“Whatever we want.”

This time, there was no one to interrupt their perfect moment.