TORY:
Tory had walked into the office looking for Martin.
Instead, he found Vent, standing on a balcony outside the small home office, the sliding glass doors wide open, curtains fluttering.
He’d met Vent before. The man clad in a blocky black and green mech suit that resembled an exposed computer motherboard seemed like he belonged on top of the rubbled remains of an alien planet. They had fought shiftbeasts together at a hover car charging station, Vent’s ability to summon tornados in his hands constantly throwing Everlux’s flight off course and blowing his cape into his face.
Tory also remembered having to stop in the middle of the fight to pose for a “candid” picture from his mother’s photographer. It was embarrassing, and he and Vent hadn’t been on good terms since.
He hadn’t really minded that before now—he was pretty much on bad terms with all of the superheroes that considered themselves real heroes.
The domestic surroundings of Martin’s parents’ office clashed with Vent’s existence. Photos of Vincent and Leo Ramos’ family and soccer team portraits on hologram projections around the room and bounced around the desktop computer’s screen.
What was happening?
Why was a superhero at Martin’s party?
“Uh. I—hello?” Tory blinked.
Vent’s stoic expression revealed nothing. His face was mostly covered by large, black sunglasses, and his salt and pepper hair showed his age.
Wind shot from his palms and slammed the door closed behind Tory, hard enough that it rivaled the bass vibrating throughout the apartment.
Tory’s heart rate picked up. Vent was a hero, but the energy coming off of him, the intense scowl, the clenching mech suit fists…
Was Tory in danger?
“Uh—Vent?” He cleared his throat. “I mean, that’s a fantastic Vent cosplay. I have hero nerd friends that would be so jealous. Could I get a picture with you?”
He didn’t respond.
Vent had never been particularly chatty as a hero, but…
Tory swallowed. “What’s going on? Why are you here?”
Vent stepped toward Tory. The grim set of his mouth and clenched jaw set him on edge.
His eyes flicked to the mech suit, trying to figure out what amalgamation of elements it was made from. Why was he here? Standing in the office? He could see how he’d gotten in—through the balcony window—but why?
“Why aren’t you answering?” Tory demanded.
Vent didn’t respond. His palms spread, and a torrent of wind blew Tory back against the wall. The wood of the door cracked under his impact. His head smacked against the door and throbbed. He slid to the ground, gasping as Vent stepped right up to him.
Fine. If Vent was going to attack what looked like a helpless kid, then Tory was going to fight back.
He reached forward and touched the mech suit, imagining the atoms of the metal breaking apart and rearranging into something new, something that was the same material but in a different shape. His power slammed against the mech suit, but then it faded away. Tory grunted in frustration.
So steel and iron weren’t the correct materials. Then what was there that he knew? Glass? Plastic? He went through his mental list of materials in his mind and nothing was fitting the black and green stuff at his fingertips.
A large mech hand grabbed him by his shirt and hoisted him up against the wall, slamming his head. His other hand came up and gripped his neck. Tory kicked wildly, knocking the computer chair over and sending it crashing.
Vent’s jaw flexed as he squeezed Tory’s throat.
Tory’s thoughts became distant and foggy and desperate. His fights were always out in the open and surrounded by a familiar environment. He knew how to manipulate the materials out in the city. Concrete, steel, iron. He couldn’t change the mech suit.
His mind focused on the elements of the wall behind him. He pressed his hand against it and imagined the wall’s paint shifting and mixing and becoming wet again under his touch, and the sky blue paint shot from beneath his fingers and curled around him, then splattered against Vent’s glasses and face and instantly dried. Vent released him, scratching at his face, and Tory coughed and gasped for breath. He scrambled to get away from Vent.
A fist banged against the door, and Tory stared in horror. Who else was going to come in here? What if they saw what Tory had done? What if they saw Vent, and Vent decided he needed to silence more high school kids?
“Tory! Are you in there? Are you okay?”
Tory panicked. No. No. Not Alex. He needed to tell Alex to run.
“AL—” He started, but he was cut off by the mech suit’s fist locking around his throat and lifting him into the air. Pain lanced through him, panic seizing his body as he struggled to breathe.
Vent didn’t make the mistake of letting him touch the wall or the floor again. The man carried him over to the balcony, lifting him high into the air.
Dangling ten stories into the air would have been terrifying if it weren’t for the fact that he could fly. He kicked and grunted in frustration, his chest growing tight as his lungs struggled for oxygen.
Let me go. Let me fall. I dare you.
He slowly suffocated, pain burning his neck and his lungs, and he couldn’t move. Vent glared at him, his paint-covered glasses removed from his face. His eyes seemed to almost glow with hatred, an icy blue cracking across the brown color of his irises.
Wait. Did he know him?
Tory shoved his hand into Vent’s face and was about to use his power to destroy it when the door flew open, snapping off its hinges. Alex hit the floor and rolled, then got back to his feet. The doorknob of the broken door spun across the floor and stopped next to Vent’s foot.
Alex’s eyes flicked to Tory’s, then widened with horror.
“Al, run,” Tory wheezed.
Alex did not move. His expression tightened and his brow furrowed with determination. He raised his fists. “Put. Him. Down.”
It was, in fact, very attractive and very inconvenient.
Vent dropped Tory to the ground and Tory gasped for air and coughed, his vision fuzzy and dark. Vent took in his new victim with a scowl. Partygoers who had come to see why Alex was vandalizing the office door, collecting in the hallway curiously, started to scream and run.
Alex was not screaming and running. He was getting in a fighting stance, as if he’d done it a thousand times, which Tory was pretty sure he had not.
“Tory, get out of here.”
“You get out of here,” Tory wheezed back, cringing at how much everything hurt. He tried to stand up, but a boot crushed him and pushed him back down. Tory’s fingers dug into the carpet. Wool, plastic, dye—a mix of organic and mineral materials at its base. He imagined a thousand long strands unraveling and winding around Vent’s feet, trapping Vent in place. But he couldn’t do it if Alex was here.
He couldn’t do it as Tory.
“Get off of him!” Alex charged forward and slammed his body into Vent’s, his elbow sinking into Vent’s gut.
Vent hit the wall and it cracked, paint chips and debris spraying across the floor. He tried to get back onto his feet, summoning wind to his palms. A burst of cold air pushed Alex back a couple of feet, but he remained steady.
Tory rolled away from them, deep, sharp pain rattling in his chest with every breath. He army-crawled into the hallway, but a hand gripped the back of his tank top and attempted to drag him back. Tory yelped and looked up to see Vent trying to grab him.
Alex grabbed his arm like a vice to lock him into place, then kicked him in the chest. Vent grunted from the impact, turning fully to Alex and leaning forward to protect his core, just as Alex high-kicked and hooked his leg around Vent's shoulder, still gripping Vent's arm, and pressed him down to the ground. Alex kept his foot pressed into Vent's shoulder on the ground. He twisted Vent's arm against his back.
Tory stared at Alex. All of that had happened in less than a second, and he had never seen Alex move like that. Confident and swift.
"Go!" Alex barked. "Call the responders!"
Tory snorted. So bossy. He moved. quickly, but not to get responders.
Tory crawled out of sight, into the bathroom, and then he stood up and caught himself in the mirror. His face was pale and slick with sweat, and his neck had several reddening rings around it where Vent’s grip had been. He touched his red hair and felt for the pigmentation inside of it, the proteins and the keratin that made it up, and his hair shifted into blue.
He felt the silver rings on his fingers and used his power to release the potential trapped inside of them.
A shiny silver metallic suit with blue, angular designs across his chest and legs slid over his body, hands, neck, and face. A mask slid into place around his nose and lips and hid his face almost completely. A white lens hid his eyes while still allowing him to see perfectly. The mask and suit shifted and morphed to look skintight despite covering his clothes. Tory’s hand went to his pocket and the suit separated like molten metal so that he could grab the voice modulator he always kept with him and his black watch. He tied the silver choker around his neck, and his suit reformed around it so that it was hidden and protected.
Tory ran back into the bedroom, where he found his best friend was still fighting the super villain.
It was the stupidest thing Alex had ever done, except—
Except it wasn’t. He watched as Vent, standing up again after Alex’s attack, tried to grab Alex by his neck the way he had with Tory, but Alex grabbed him by one elbow, turned with his back against him, and locked his other arm around Vent’s shoulder, then threw Vent over him onto his back. Vent wheezed under the weight of his boxy mech suit, and Alex scrambled to pin him down by his arms and legs.
Tory was floored.
“What was that, some kind of pro wrestling move?” He yelped, but his voice came out deeper and robotic, his voice modulator switched on.
Alex looked up in surprise, then glared at Tory with open confusion and irritation.
“Everlux? What are you doing here?” Alex’s mouth curled. “Shouldn’t you be kissing babies or getting an unearned key to the city?”
Alex sassing him was completely hilarious and a little painful, and Tory fought to keep a straight face. Alex was always polite with teachers and parents, so the change in pace almost made Tory fold.
“I was alerted to a disturbance in the area,” Tory said, trying to sound kind of heroic. “I was nearby.”
“You do real hero work?” Alex asked, and Tory couldn’t resist a snort.
“Thanks for the help, but I’ll take it from here, kid.”
“Are you serious?”
Tory knelt down and touched the carpet. It rumbled in a path towards the fallen man and the blend of organic and mineral materials shifted and split apart. The wool in the carpet spiraled around the mech suit, thousands of strands wrapping around him and hardening into something tough as steel. Vent was tied to the floor. He struggled for a long minute, but he couldn’t move any of his limbs at all, wool wrapping around his bunching fists.
Alex watched with naked fascination, but then he seemed to remember that he was supposed to be annoyed and just scowled.
“Oh, please. Tory and I did all of the work. And you just came in to take all of the credit, which is very like you.” He scoffed.
“I’ll—” Tory had to swallow down a laugh, his shoulders shaking. “I’ll be sure to let the responders know what you and your friend did.”
Alex was about to respond, but his expression fell. His eyes grew wide and he ran toward the hallway, his head whipping around.
“Whe—where…?” He looked back in the office, his breathing a little uneven.
“What is it?”
“Where’s Tory?” Alex demanded, his voice brittle with anxiety.
“I—” Tory stuttered. The way Alex’s voice sounded, trembling with concern—it threw him off. “I rescued him. He’s safe.”
“He was hurt. I need to get him to the hospital.”
“He’s fine, I promise,” Tory said, ignoring the pain in his ribs and around his neck. He’d been through worse.
“What—what’s happening?” A weak, creaking voice interrupted Alex before he could sass Everlux again.
Vent was...sobbing. Panicking, his eyes roaming the room with horror.
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