The faint flicker of a memory coming from the heat beating against a pale face. The sun was as high as August would allow it to be, but that was stopped at the brim of a United Armors cap.

  No, this was industrial. Steel, additives, and ever burning kilns giving it a bite. Hazel eyes wanting to water and nose wanting to get away from this entrance to hell. But it was all manageable, barely able to get past his work clothes. This was tame. This nothing like what Seth had felt so long ago.

  The Fedor Smeltery Co., the only small order foundry in the Kadia area. That, technically, could work with exotic orders. It was kind of unusual for them to take cash, but business was slowing down and the money was good. The materials certainly raised eyebrows though, yet few batted an eye. Seth was known around, seen regularly and made less conspicuous orders before. So if he was asking, and paying, it wasn’t much of a problem. He just had to wait a bit, which wasn’t really an issue either.

  An idle gaze wandering about kept him busy. Drawn to the bright glow of molten metal waiting to be poured. The hiss of it as it flowed into mold after mold. The clanks and strikes of it hitting the stations laid out beyond. The baths of chemicals, oils, and cooling water. The extruders for more specialized shapes. The guy wearing little more than a tank top and heavy leather pants as he dragged a crane down its rail like a stubborn puppy.

  And so the finer details all come in.

  Half of that melting glow coming from a woman breathing fire into the open side of a blast furnace. Squealing pulleys were manhandled by a team of two guys way too nonchalant to not be wearing protective clothing around said blast furnace. And at least a few of those clanks out the back were full on strikes of metal being shorn in half, by someone with a propensity to mold metal with their mind.

  Because well… Why have big, heavy, expensive, machinery when you can get a super to do this stuff. And all that costs is labor.

  But it was always a bit of a sad sight. The ones who didn’t have enough going for them to be heroes. The ones who flunked out or never cared to try for a position in the League. But it was also certainly a better landing than most. Because at least they get to be recognized for their powers. They get to use them to help after all. They get to-

  “…huhh…”

  Seth didn’t need to stay long thankfully, just picking up his order and head out. Let the past waft over like so much ash. Let that heat just remain a mundane fire.

  The foreman was already on his way too. Trudging out from the metal stacks with three workers in tow, a heavy trolley bearing a pile of matte grey bars weighing all four of them down. A funny coincidence, or just a bit of office politics that none of them were supers. Either way Seth met them halfway to save them at least some trouble.

  “Welp!”

  The foreman stopped thankful and haggardly picked up his clipboard from the trolley.

  “Fifteen hundred pounds of… whatever you want to call this, ready and cooled.”

  Seth went over and picked up a bar. It was heavy, felt slightly brittle and flaky to the touch, but it was conductive as hell and exactly to the specifications. He finally smiled with a little pride at getting this right on the money. And maybe from being a little conscientious about the sourcing. Who doesn’t like a good bit of recycling.

  “It’s perfect, and you were even able to make some extra.”

  One of the workers sneered a little.

  “It’s pretty easy to melt trash together if-”

  “IF there is anything else you need, just ask.”

  The foreman handed the clipboard over to Seth for his signature as that comment washed over.

  “Nope, this is more than enough. But…”

  Seth handed the signed board back from over the still held bar of melded scrap. A slight tinge hitting the back of his mind overshadowed by a little bit of pity.

  “If I were you, I would look to diversifying your outputs. Something tells me you’re going to be down a few major customers in the coming years.”

  And now the foreman was leering at him.

  “What makes you say that?”

  Seth put his taken bar down and put a hand on the trolley’s rail as that tinge smoldered.

  “Well the armorers in Kadia are starting to lose customers for uh… obvious reason, and likely won’t be maintain their current sales figures by the end of the year. And once that happens, the stocks start to dip, the investors lose interest, the extar capital loses value. So suddenly the whole industry is staring at a major downturn. It’s just better to diversify now so you don’t get sucked down with them.”

  All four men stared at him like he just turned green, but Seth just shrugged off the indignation from without… and within.

  “Just some off hand advice.”

  ‘And a few too many voices trying to have a say.’

  He started to pull at the trolley, but the foreman went to help.

  “W-wait, we at least need to help get that back to United.”

  Seth smiled again like none of the slight inner turmoil mattered.

  “Nah, I got it.”

  And pulled the near one ton trolley along behind him with nothing but a metal warping groan from it. Momentum already rolling up to brisk without so much as a grunt as it wheeled from between the awestruck workers.

  “Besides, this is all mine to play with! I’ll bring the cart back later though! And thanks again!”

  Seth swiveled his new load around, pressing sure and matching movement to it till inertia crashed the handle into his waiting palm. Not even eliciting a pang or outright snapping his wrist apart as he pushed it out onto the wide sidewalks of this industrial district proper.

  The district full of self-contained fire and clanking manufacture. The district brimming with factories towering or squat. The district trying not to belch smoke and smog out to the wider air, but could only do so much as cost could take. The district that he called home.

  Pushing his borrowed cart down the street like it was nothing more than a big unwieldly shopping trolley drew plenty more looks. Thankfully this place was designed so materials could be transported like this if needs be or distance wasn’t worth the gas mileage. Few slopes, level sidewalks with short barrier curbs demarking them. Plenty of space and plenty of loading ports. A lot of good done with just some set planning involved from the get go.

  A few other work yards and offices he passed gawked, though it’s not like this was unexpected these days. Every so often another cart just as, or more laden than reasonable, passed by as well. Supers were common enough staples, he just probably didn’t cut the picture of one. Least of all with an armorer’s logo over his head. But the smile on his face was too much to be stifled by awkwardness. It’d been a while since he had shown off, work was keeping him plenty proud as it was.

  Watching more mundane trucks full of supplies and manufactured goods go by never got old. Watching the outputs of so many people’s labors flow on into the city helped make up for the pity underlying. For those who tried and failed, or those who couldn’t be what their powers destined them to be. But in a city like Kadia, in a world like his, you had to be the best of the best to be a hero. How else would you manage all of it after all?

  The skyline ahead attesting to that, a swath of high rises spreading out over the thinning dregs of the industrial sprawl. A city of trade, commerce, and the little things in life. A city you could walk through and yet remain connected to it wherever you went. The main hub for the whole of the region. And yet near enough the most peaceful.

  A true defeat of the hero paradox. At least by League standards. Alarm and threat tracking systems, rapid response services, a police force kitted out to handle the worst events possible, a full on military base not even an hour outside the city limits. And all of it palling in comparison to its central jewel. The Hill, the League of Supers main base for the entire tri-state area. And the place Seth could just see from between that highrisen horizon. The place he had his sights set on.

  For later.

  For now, home was just a dingy apartment block on the border of the sector. Towering all of three stories up with nothing but grey cinder, darkened paint, and last ditch vibes. But it had all the amenities he could ever need. Namely it was within walking distance, was arguably abandoned, and had provided garage space. It was perfect, because he didn’t have or need a car.

  Walking his heavy cargo up to one of the garages, he put a hand to the door and felt. Focused. Knew just what he was looking for. A small vibration, an infinitesimal signal. A string to pluck and cut as his hand came away. And the locks placed on the door clanked free of their more normal stoppages. As it started clunking upward and out of the way just off of the released spring tension. Given back reign because he shut a circuit off that offered no outward interface. Because he didn’t need one.

  Inside, a dim overhead light came standard with every unit, the three extra work lights didn’t. The garage was set up like a mechanic's shop, work tables flanking a heavy metal framework of pulleys and chains for heavy lifting. And berthing what this was all for. Tools were hung on the walls and in holsters at each table. There was even a generator placed near the door just to cover all the bases. Even if it was just for show. But one thing was missing from this picture, though only because a tarp cloaked it against the far wall.

  Seth left the trolley at the door and began, two by two, stacking the metal bricks at the foot of his machining table. Their brittleness leaving them without the resounding clang that twenty five pound metal bars usually responded with, simply thudding against each other as they stacked higher and higher. Till the trolley heaved a metaphorical sigh at the loss of its burden, and Seth now had way too much metal to work with.

  Once everything was in place, the cart was pushed outside, and the door shut again. The work lights keeping the room lit from all sides, but the cloak beyond them maintaining a defiant shadow. One at last to be brought into the light as he clutched the fabric covering it. Pulling it into the light, dark shade resolving into glistening skeleton.

  Titanium alloy formed into distinct shapes, like symmetrically discordant mesh just waiting to be filled in. Simple joints beefed up with servos of every caliber, full axis rotary cuffs breaking up the frame up into distinct parts if push came to selective disassembly. Yet that was compared to the joins above them.

  Empty slats wound tight on sliding paths, waiting for the armored layers that would fill them and show their full articulation. Finally, a drive pack and battery were hung and wired into the grooves on the inside. Or at least it looked that way. Seth didn’t really need the assistance. But the weight training at least got him used to what it would end up becoming.

  Still, this was a powersuit to the layman's eyes, like many he’d built. Like many built since… since the crisis that demanded their intervention. An industry to fill the gaps left over when so many heroes, so many people went off to war. And died.

  An… an industry that he was a part of. One that he put himself quite firmly into. So he could forget a little. So he could use his powers. He’d repaired, built, modified, and designed countless numbers of suits over the years. All of it worth it, all of it preparation and training. All leading to this one last suit. The culmination of so many plans for the future.

  Because for all that pride he had, all the hope he had, all the possibility. He was going to need it to keep what he could do under wraps. To keep his power hidden and in check. This was a buffer as much as it was a show of skill. A wall between him and the world that could keep it safe. From him. And keep him safe from scrutiny in turn. Because he had a debt too heavy to reconcile on his own, and he wasn’t about to be cast off before he could pay it off in one go. But all that could wait, there were still some final pieces to get before the day was out.

  Walking back the cart was a quieter affair, solemn reminders and the same sights just in reverse. And a plan to head into town was already on the table, so he had plenty left to do. For as much as the industrial district had in heavy work, the city proper had in finer detailing.

  And… that tinge was getting rather insistent. He hadn’t gotten much chance to get at lectured today. So out from his dark cargo work pants came a set of his cellphone’s earbuds to dull the world away. To quiet it more totally and allow for-

  “You overdid it. Again.”

  For the Speaker to have his say. A slow, graceful, if artificial tone coming through the drivers. Always held to even if it was more pomp than circumstance. Even when he couldn’t stand physically over anyone anymore.

  ‘It was friendly advice. I’d like it if they stayed open.’

  Because his voice came from deep within. A corner of Seth’s mind hard to reach and even harder to reach out from. But it heard his thoughts just fine, experienced the world through his eyes and ears well enough. And managed their own word in with the right equipment to amplify. Even if it was usually just to get told off.

  “Then you would have merely told them about a different path to take, not that they are headed toward monetary ruination.”

  “Nah, they wouldn’t have listened to that. But by the looks on their faces, they’re not going to forget what he said.”

  But at least someone had his back. Figuratively. No matter how jaded and lax he sounded, Threat always kept a nice balance.

  ‘Thank you.’

  “But they probably won’t appreciate it though.”

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  In keeping Seth’s good mood in check.

  “Which is my point. If you want to ingratiate yourself, you need act more measured. Diplomatic. They have time to squander and learn their coming error, but you do not.”

  ‘Hhhugh… Why’d I have to get stuck with the career politician?’

  “Hey, it was either him or the literal personification of pride comith before the fall.”

  “Says the fall.”

  This was Seth’s life, at least when it was quiet. The slight rattle of the heavy cart’s wheels, the rumble of more passing trucks and cars, even the distant sounds of the factories just a block away. All of it could block them out and leave him alone with his thoughts. But he knew he would never truly be alone.

  Not anymore.

  Not after everything he’d been through. Not after the weeks that were near enough his earliest and brightest memories. Not his first, but as far as a broken memory could allow him. As much as he dared remember. Given what little he had that preceded them and... the hell that came after. And really, they didn’t deserve to be ignored. They were a part of him. And he a part of them.

  The Garkah, as they had called themselves. The reason he could pull such heavy loads. Could shut a circuit with just a bit of focused effort to feel out for it. They were the reason he had powers, could manipulate electricity. Its flow to and fro, and its wider uses in more than just conductive metal.

  Though it was more inheritance than a gift given. And came with far too much lecturing on its proper use. Being the original wielders and repentant misusers certainly colored sentiments. And, for better or worse, they lived rent free in his head. So they had to give something in return for the space.

  All two hundred thousand of them.

  A diaspora from across the stars apparently, across distance counted in years if not centuries of travel for even light. Hidden away from the world just like his abilities. Because it was better than telling the truth. Better than opening wounds that they caused by getting here. By just landing and seeing what all was here. Wounds even Seth was not without. But… they were considerate of that. They were his friends after all.

  Seth kept wheeling his borrowed cart back to the steel yard as times long past faded back into present duldrum. Till he passed the one piece of this place that stood out the most. Both in looks and in his mind.

  Run down and overgrown, if things could even grow here. Sagging and blackened as weather and pollution assaulted it. Old wood slowly being eaten away by time and what looked like some kinda moss. An ancient building built before all this was even a twinkle in some turn of the century industrialist’s eye. An orphanage. The one he’d been left in. But the one he appreciated.

  Marrow’s Home for the Lost and Abandoned. Now little more than a world heritage site that no one bothered categorizing. It was fine, it was good when an orphanage closed down. It meant it was empty, and everyone had found homes to go to. Well, most everyone. He hadn’t, but that was more thanks to getting a job early and the foster system having a tough time. He wasn’t really adoption material anyway. The Garkah filled that hole well enough.

  Still, they had tried their best. Tried to stop him from sneaking out mostly. There were too many other kids. Too many in worse states than him. He could handle himself fine enough, though again that was mostly the Garkah. Still that place helped, left him close to what he needed. What he ultimately wanted. Industry he could use. Speaking of which, this short trip back had disappeared on him.

  Waving his repeated thanks at whoever was watching out for it, he left the empty cart in the steel yard. Smile only lightly besmirched by a stubborn past. But he was far from done, so had more than enough time to realign and forget again. Only one stop, but a lot of walking.

  And, given the small ire he felt side eying back toward the yard, plenty more to hear.

  ‘Calm down Matterist, we won’t have to deal with them anymore.’

  “They called our wo- They called it trash!!”

  Speaker and Threat’s time in the spotlight of Seth’s mind had been interrupted by a young voice belying a lot of experience. Like a lot of his fellow Garkah. He never got a firm answer, because they didn’t even know for certain themselves, but they’d traveled for a long time to get here. So all of them had more than a few decades worth added on to their ages. If not more.

  ‘Well it was actual trash, they just couldn’t work out the-‘

  “Why must so much of your species be so obtuse? It’s not that hard to see that that structure is electrically crystalizing. How else could it even solidify as much as it already has?”

  ‘Matter… they can’t feel electrons like we can. And this is all Tesh science, not Earth science. We don’t have metal that contracts under electrical currents. It’s kinda anathema really.’

  “Oh ye of so limited electromagnetism. When we get our chance, I’m opening a school. This ignorance is intolerable and shall not stand!”

  ‘Heh, well I’ll try and get you there quick. But don’t expect a bunch of kids to find a lecture on the subtleties of an antithetically inverted piezoelectric phenomena very fun. Half of them won’t know how to even say it.’

  “Humph… Then I’ll just have to make it… fun.”

  The gallery calmed down as Seth kept walking. Past his apartment, past the few outer business offices that clumped together against their clanking surroundings. Hitting the sparse outer suburbs that quickly became the outer ring of Kadia’s business distract. More offices slowly but surely rising as they neared its center. As traffic became smaller and less laden. Commuters getting their lunches or passing off their shifts. The sounds of industry transferring into the din of city life. The errant honk and rev barely cutting into it.

  The slight vertigo of the grade increase rising above his head was fine, Seth had plenty more to focus on. The wide sidewalks of his home thinned only enough to keep the roadway at the forefront, but still allowed a good deal of foot traffic to flow alongside.

  Business casual and common demure, the occasional suit and tie waiting for a car rather than walking. Parking garages disgorging and engorging, buses squealing to their stops. Even a few sport ware enthusiasts making due with circling the buildings they no doubt owned the offices in. Because who else would use a place like this for exercise.

  All accented by the occasional fly by. The sudden blur. The splash of color in the shallow seas of humanity. Capes notwithstanding. Certainly not super society, but the occasional individual developing powers of some kind wasn’t so far out there. Or they found something that gave them abilities. Or came into them through parents already bearing them. Plenty of ways to be super, just not to be a hero.

  But those that made it made sure everyone else knew. Could see them. Could know that they were doing their part. Patrolling the streets like beat cops with bombastic flare. Some towering over the heads of those around. Others zipping by at speed, and making sure they were following the rules of the road doing it. The lucky few floating and flying about above it all. And every one of them assured, legitimized, allowed and authorized to do what they could to keep this city safe. To keep this world safe.

  Though, by now that was kind of moot. Heroes being too good at their jobs leaves quite the lack of villains to compete against.

  But when they did come around, it was worth it. Seth couldn’t help but smile as he passed a walking mass of granite and saw a flyer zip between the buildings. An eye always kept out, an ear tuned in. Because he wanted to be there when it finally came to a brawl. Peace was nice too, but watching supers duke it out just made his day. Seeing effort and skill battle malice and greed. Ideals clashing. Maybe not so much the monologues, but the sheer weight of beings bearing power varied and catastrophic just lit a fire in him. Because that was what he wanted. That was him someday.

  But not today

  His destination was already upon him and dragging enthusiasm back to the table to sit down quietly. A small space just off the fifth or so ringing street. A grouping of businesses only really together because the office space was cheap. But right up the alley of his supplier. Cheap carpet, drop tile ceilings, and central air a few decades out of date. A neat little window kiosk in one of the main hallway’s cut outs drawing Seth up with a fancy cardboard sign hung up above it.

  “Welcome to Ma- Oh it’s you again.”

  Seth just shrugged at the sudden drop of demeanor across the clerk’s face. More pity at the shtick the guy at the counter had to say than much else.

  Magne-ton, a nice little shop for all the fiddly little things you could need that could stick to each other if given the slightest amount of negligence. But also the only one who would accept Seth’s order. Again.

  “Hey Tim, it all finished yet?”

  The utter antithesis of enthusiasm on their face said that yes, they were. The black dusty stains caking his static apron only cementing it. And the disheveled toss of his red hair making sure Seth felt regret for making him do this.

  “Yes. Yes it is.”

  Tim swiveled away, rolling across the rubberized floor and grabbed a set of boxes from the inner counter. Three… of about twelve.

  “I don’t want to know why, I don’t want to know how. I just want this gone. You’re a mad man and I hate that I agreed to this.”

  “And… I’m sorry? It was either you or order overseas. And bulk shipping would’ve-”

  *shuu*

  “I don’t care. It took five hours to get the charge right on each of these servos. And I can’t for the life of me work out what this terracotta mix is supposes to do. I am, completely, uninterested. Just take it. And go.”

  Seth could only give a flat smile as he scooped and stacked up his order, carefully balancing it as he lifted the whole tower and started toward the door. Ducking and sliding through the doorframe and feeling Tim’s unimpressed side eye all the way out. And Matterist’s countering indignation attempting to rise back up.

  ‘It’s fine Matter. It was a big ask and it’s done.’

  “The second course will be about proper mitigation shielding for magnetic resonances. Hmm… Maybe I can hang him by a clamp and see if he appreciates our servo designs then. How better to test if their resistance threshold is up to snuff.”

  It was going to be a long walk home.

  Trudging back with his high stacked boxes, Seth made better time. If only by virtue of everyone moving out of his way and the lunch rush dying down. The occasional surprised start, an outraged glare like he was taking up too much space, even the inevitable huff and jeer at the absurdity. It wasn’t like Seth didn’t have some stature, it was just he wasn’t exactly the type to walk around with the world on his shoulders.

  Middling tone, probably an inch or two small for twenty four, maybe a bit too baby faced. A beard just refused to grow in, what could he do? The muscle tone was more deliberate. His strength wasn’t purely musculature anymore, not since the Garkah taught him how to use his powers to amplify it. Hard to work out when you can just supercharge what you already have with some added electricity and the right control of the ensuing momentum. But the height was more unfortunate than understandable. It was only a little stunting, but going weeks with little food will do that to a growing kid. And that was just one of scars left over from…

  From walking. For days on end. Scrounging for food in tossed apart stores. Sleeping in any cover he could find. Feeling the slow creep of hunger mount and mount with every empty bombed out shelf. With every day that passed without the sun shining overhead. With every growl and grind haunting him to sleep. With those eyes on-

  A shake of it away. The spiraling back into those days. Into what he wanted to forget. A half caught Remembrance Day ad on a passing bus. Only a glimpse, but it was enough. He knew the shapes. Knew that wall. Those triumphant figures.

  Those teeth.

  Those eyes…

  An uneven breath, at a crosswalk finally seen as more than just terrain for his subconscious to traverse. A callous gaze was tracking up his burdening supplies from over a midday coffee, while others just unconsciously kept away waiting for the light to change. A lot of looks compounding, wearing thin even this small chafe. Making Seth self-conscious for no reason but every reason. Feeling even a few eyes on him was not helping. So much emotion and yet so little to say of it.

  He was able to tell when someone was looking at him, at least when they were emotional about it. Judgmental looks and wondrous gazes, or just general apathetic pass overs. The how it was happening never really mattered, it just felt like it had always been there. Some small quirk or something with his powers maybe. But all that did matter in the end was if he was focusing on them. Or if they were truly unrestrained. Unavoidable. And whether he could handle it all at-

  The light changed and blessed relief tore away the raw feelings and the slip back into the worse. Progress forward sending it all back down and making the world scenery again. Just other people’s lives that didn’t matter, just the past that didn’t matter. Right now, everything was his and his alone. Right now it was a good day.

  He made it back into the industrial district okay, passed nothing more than eyes already knowing what he was like. Just another maybe-super making a living. Just another set of hands. That were very full. So he had to kick his garage door to send it rolling open. Placing is last bits of supply in and awaiting tomorrow. Another full day hopefully just as good. Even if it was the last day of his career.

  That was tomorrow though. For now it was just the lazy rest of a Saturday. One of a waiting frozen dinner, chicken parmesan that was gonna taste only a little bit like plastic. And a seat on the couch that he’d found on the street yet felt like heaven. All while watching TV that… the Garkah were disrupting. That Speaker was disrupting.

  “huuggghh…” ‘Can’t I just have one Saturday?’

  He popped in his relieved earbuds and was greeted unceremoniously with-

  “No. Not when your goal is so close at hand. Now is assuredly the time to train harder.”

  “ffggrrrr…”

  Seth put his lunch back in the freezer before it melted too much, took off his comfy utilitarian clothes in exchange for less a obstructive shirt and shorts, and hung his hat so the world could take it all in.

  Take the scar that kept him tethered to that past in. Stark white managed into a shock. Tousled and smoothed back to something close to not hat hair. Yet fussed over and regretted every time he saw it. Every time he had to go out and bare it to the world. Because what they saw was not what he felt. Not what gave him this unbidden scar. It used to brown for crying out loud.

  Scooching, grumbling, out his apartment door and hanging immediate up the adjoining stairway, he was off to do more remembering he preferred not to. Though the work out at least had its own cathartic properties. The roof of the building left unused and uncared for, so what better a place to practice what he was trying to achieve.

  A laid out and staked down mat kept him from tearing the prickly roofing off. A spare work berth offered a nice anchor for a sandbag. And the general privacy kept him from looking like a fool. Or worse.

  “If you would keep to the forms, you would hardly look foolish.”

  ‘And I keep telling you, Speaker, that I’m missing a few very important things to do that. You know, like a tail!’

  “Then you will just have to keep trying to adapt. Now go!”

  Like a starting bell, Seth whipped into action against his overfilled opponent. A fist circling wide and driving into the side, feet sliding parallel to their upper brethren appendages till the angle of attack was caught and launched with fervor. The bag struck and sent swinging to clang its limit and then some. Chain bunching and flopping it catawampus on the back swing.

  Seth let it fly past and add more uncertainty to its jerking path, as he leaned into all the inertia he just threw himself with. Feet loosened, stance harboring, tension fighting for control. So he could wind it all up into the other fist.

  The sand whirled back about, lurched funny and off balance, but wasn’t getting any more free shots at him just because he hit it too hard. The opposite shin shot out and aligned it right, so Seth could stomp that counterweighting foot down and pound the bag right off his moor. Thwaping it to the mat like a clotheslined body, chain snapping its connection and spooling loose. And leaving him to remember where that instinct came from. Where too much of his moves came from.

  Weaving with the momentum was just how the Garkah fought, heavy strikes with little focus on direct defense. You don’t need it when your body was that defense. But blocking was still learned, and if it could be made into an attack afterward all the better. They tended to keep their feet on the ground and grapple a lot, but Seth didn’t have the sheer weight on offer to keep that up. So he often fell back on things he learned a long time ago…

  Things he only really remembered because forgetting would be worse. But they still had their scars to chafe with every reminiscence. Every happy weekend glued to the TV in his room. His old room. Watching heroes fight villains till it all blended together into a blur of childhood half remembered. The next day all but forgotten, barring the brightest stars. But one always stood out in his mind. One he almost regretted knowing, and hoping, and cherishing.

  But that was past, and the past was so long ago. The bag on the ground needed rehanging. The metal hoop it hung to needed rebending… again. And Speaker needed reassurance that Seth was ready for what was ahead of him. And that meant fighting like a Garkah when it suited him, and a pale imitation of a warrior when it was necessary. Till everything hurt. Which was going to take a while. Which would leave him hungry. Which he hated.

  Two hours of beating on sand whiled away. Half that of dodging invisible enemies, feeling presences that weren’t there through a link to his senses the Garkah had. Another half of just general working out, so at the very least his body was passable on its own. And lastly a few minutes of letting Speaker lecture him on what was right and what was wrong. He’d gotten that down to just under three minutes, but wasn’t about to feel too much pride in that. Lest it expand all on its own.

  But it was over now. He was ‘allowed’ to have the rest of his last Saturday as a normal citizen. Because by Monday, he was going to be a part of the League. At least as a recruit anyway. And there wasn’t a single part of him that was going to accept flunking out. Being relegated back to what he had already outgrown. What wasn’t enough.

  Sore on the couch, tired out more as a final lesson than a consequence, he was left to focus. To reach out. To feel what he needed to alleviate what was dragging him into that couch. Feeling the ebb and flow of power coming in from the street in high oscillation. Alternating current blasting away imperceptible to all but those unlucky. And him, though the overlap was debatable. As he let that current do its due diligence, its expected passage and utilization. And simply dragged away what was already marked off as for his use. Pulling power right out of the sockets on the wall.

  Feeding on it, or at least letting it suffuse through him. It was a vague sense, he still had a lot to work on, but it was his guiding princeps. What he was meant for in his own mind. As the trickle of electricity silently buzzed the air, and healed away the soreness of a day of training and work. Well, the physical damage anyway. The pain was his. And would always be.

  But, that was the last of the hard stuff. Now was the rest of a good day. Just lazing out on that couch, watching TV till the sun went down, and eating a microwaved meal with just a little too much salt and/or plastic in it to be healthy. But it was all just too good to pass up. Too comforting.

  Because he can’t have everything so easy in the end. He still has to sleep at some point. The full past had to have its due one way or the other.