Heaven.

"Hey!" Warm fingers close around my neck. I spin and arc the sickle down. The blade's blunt edge slaps my thigh, ribbons of goopy blood splatter my jeans, and before my brain registers what I did, I watch the man wheeze and drop to the grimy floor. His mask snaps in half.  I force down the bile rising in my throat and rest my back against the metal table. I've never cut someone before. But he'll heal. Jaylin needs time to save Angel and I have to buy it.

The shop is so tight that the villains have to squeeze together to fit inside. It's small enough too that the girl and I had to slash and punch our way into the center. Metal shelves climb the walls like ladder rungs, full of plastic bottles, syringes, and wilted plants. Baggies of powder, even, most of which I make a mental note to destroy.

"Okay!" The girl claps and swings up on the table, kicking up her legs like a cheerleader. She's a fun kid. Still getting a hang of the superhero thing and I'm not helping, slashing people across the face and all. "Stand back, you guys. If anyone comes at us, my friend here will slash you right through!" She flicks her ponytail and makes a fake swinging motion with her free hand.

 Her name is Natalie and she says she likes comic books and ballet. She makes an okay right-hand man when you need one. Takes orders. Cracks jokes. Even if she is a little taller than me and even if she rests her elbow on my shoulder to flaunt it, I can deal.

People crowd into the store in twos and threes. I thought it counter-intuitive to crash a shop on the second floor, but Jaylin ran here and I trust her. When someone gives you your powers back, you can't help but feel a little indebted. A little trusting.

"Who are you?" asks a girl with orange hair and a torn sweater. I caught her when she came up the stairs with her tall, greasy friend. I give her wrist a light squeeze, which is pale and thin like it's all bone and no skin. I'm tempted to say 'your worst nightmare,' just to be dramatic, but Jaylin's the dramatic one, not me. So I shrug. 

"I want to get my friend back. I won't hurt you if you don't get in the way."

"Hmph!" She spins on the heels of her boots and slams a kick into my stomach. I hiss out a sharp breath, the bliss of whatever drug Jaylin stabbed into me shattered. She races down the stairs and I whirl off the table, landing on bent knees with a 'crunch!'

The man's mask crumbles into broken pieces like butterfly wings under my feet. I hold back a grimace and hand the sickle over my shoulder. "Stay safe." Natalie takes it. Her fingertips rest delicately on the handle as if the weapon will spring to life and chew her to pieces if she isn't careful.

I can't fault her. She shoots me a brave nod and waves it above her head like a pom-pom. "We're neutral guys," she says. She picked up the terminology from Jay and I, and she learns fast. "Make a move and your leader will scrap 'ya!"

Her chirpy voice dogs me as I pound down the stairs. "Fallout, Fallout!" calls the bloody girl with the droopy sweater. "We're under attack—"

"I've noticed." The villain's voice is low and soft, and though I've heard my fill of head honchos, he gives me chills. I take the creaking steps in threes. Stars glitter through a low window. I feel like I'm rushing into the bowels of a dungeon tower to save a princess. Or a prince.

I zoom down the stairs. One snaps under my weight, but I don't dare take flight. Not yet. Not until I'm sure my powers are back completely. For all I know there's a time limit on it, and when the clock strikes twelve I'll be wheezing away with a hole in my ribs. Seconds pass for my eyes to get used to the dark. When I slam down the last step, I gasp. I'm tired from running circles around that woman.

But now, I barely notice my lack of energy. Barely care. Angelos dangles in his father's grasp, staring wide-eyed at Jaylin. His face is splotched with a myriad of bruises and so are his arms. They must be fresh—I was with him a couple days ago—but they're already fading, dappled yellow and green. He's wearing a collared shirt dirtied with blood and dust. His wings are dry and frumpy, dragging at the tips with loops of rope. And he's chained. Cuffed at the ankles. Cuffed at the wrists. A chain hangs from his neck and falls to his bound up hands.

"Heaven!" He tips his head to the side and gives a little giddy whoop. The eye he sacrificed to buy Gats and I time to escape that lair is glazed black. He shoots me a smile over Jaylin's head. "Are you feeling okay? Better, I mean?"

"Angel!" I want to hug him. I want to hug him and tell him everything will be okay. Jaylin's talking behind me, but her words run together in my head like background noise.

"You and Owl have to talk about this. You and her broke bread over it years ago, right? You can't break the agreement now. You made it." Jaylin holds her hands out flat when she talks to Fallout. His followers flank her on either side as if she is their prisoner, though I know that's not the case. If they actually posed threats, she would've batted them away like flies. "So put him down," she says. "I'll make sure no one hurts him." Jaylin raises her eyes to the man's fist poised over Angel's head. "He's kind of aggravating. Don't let him get to you."

Angel rolls his good eye. He might be rolling his bad eye too, but I can't tell. "Yeah, yeah. Very aggravating. Rawr." His hands flop at the wrists like a tyrannosaurus', and his knees, curled to his chest, tremble. I know he's hurt and that he's putting on a show. He winks. It makes me angry he has to play that when he's hurting. "Hear that, Dad? Even the girls think I'm aggravating." He tosses a tangle of short hair out of his face, revealing a glint of silver around his neck. 

I shove through the villains, my veins singing with adrenaline. "Hey! Leave him alone!" Fallout offers me an appraising glare. Angelos shakes his head at me, clinking his chains. I tabletop my knee and slam a kick to Fallout's stomach. CRACK! It flings him into the wall, the slats rippling with cracks around him from the impact. Jaylin cusses and runs for Angel. He looks up at me, his eyes big like searchlights. The one with whites left scans me. I slide to my knees. "Are you okay?" 

"Heaven," he says slowly, like he has to pick out his words, "are you sure you're okay enough to—"

He never gets to finish his sentence. Fallout slides down the wall and crosses his arms over his chest, chuckling low and deep in the back of his throat. The orange-haired girl from earlier hisses at me and punches me in the back of the neck. I whip around and the greasy guy shoves me.

I won't bore you with the details or paint you the setting dripping in blood. But I'll tell you this: the girl is good. She's almost as fast as I am, and every blow she throws packs a wallop. She's better trained, too. Each kick she levels, each punch she throws has a perfect arc to it. A perfect line of motion, easy to follow if you're used to watching limbs fly at such quick angles. Some of her techniques I can name. The heel of her boot cracks down on my collarbone. Ax kick. I swing my elbow low and slam my fist up into her chest. She slides back, retreats, and lunges. A wrestling shot. I duck. The man swings for me. Hits me in the small of my back. Fallout laughs. And soon that's all I hear. Laughter as my mind slowly fizzles out from anticipating attacks and fighting exhaustion.

Jaylin cusses me out under her breath. She knows my weaknesses. Sketched them out before she lured me into that warehouse to fight for Angel. I fight in short bursts. 

I risk Angelos a glance. He shakes, knuckles ground into the floor, his thick black hair mussed up in fluffy tufts. He looks odd with his hair short, even if it's still a little shaggy for a guy. He's my best friend, the only person who would sit with me at lunch and let me steal his cookies. But, man, he's gonna be the death of me.

The guy with greasy black hair slams his elbow into my throat and I hit the ground gasping.

"Enough," Fallout says with a wave of his hand. "Save your energy. She's one of us, anyway."

I scramble to my feet and he's up on his, smiling kindly and offering me his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you without the mask."

"Shove it," I say, stepping back. I clasp my hands behind my back so he can't see them tremble with rage. Jaylin's pulling at Angel's chains, her lip bleeding from biting so hard. Apparently, she isn't as strong as she used to be. Fallout's lackeys grunt and glance up the stairs. Sweat beads down my forehead and I hope Nataly's doing okay. It's been quiet; radio silence. I should check on her. "You're a terrible dad, by the way. I'm here to get Angel back. That's it. I know you and Toby had a deal, but you tricked him and drained my powers and it's off. The one I made with Poison, that's off too. You're going to give Jaylin the key to his cuffs and we're going to leave."

Angelos whistles under his breath. "Thanks, Hev. Jay."

Fallout smooths his collar, "No problem," I say.

"You owe me one," Jaylin says. "Can I get a kiss? Is that how it works?"

"Hmm." I almost hear Angel mull. That's how it is when he's quiet, you can pretty much hear all the little voices in his mind chewing each other out. "You get me free and I'll have a conversation with you on our romantic feelings." He thumbs the chain at his wrists, kicking his legs out. They twitch like flippers. "Kisses are off the table, though."

Jaylin grunts, brushing a strand of brown hair out of her reddening face. "I thought you loved me."

Fallout cups his free hand to his face to hide his smirk. He fails. It slips through his fingers, and he watches with a mild interest as Angelos and Jaylin bicker. The two of them don't even seem to care they're in a basement surrounded by supervillains. Like this is the perfect time to figure out their love lives. The others settle on the stairs and shrug as if they don't want to screw with teen love, and I guess they'll take the free soap opera while they're at it. The girl's chest is still heaving, and I'm glad I at least managed that.

"I like you when you're not trying to break my wrist. And I like you when you're not giggling at my screams."

"Well, they're kind of cute." She shrugs. "The screams, I mean."

"See, Jaylin?" He sighs as if they're talking over donuts and coffee. His fingers wriggle over the edges of the cuffs. The both of them are hand-talkers. I never realized that until now. Jaylin gestures wide, arm waves and flourishes. Angel signs. He curls his knees to his chest, his wings folding flat. A lumbering gray canine slinks from the shadows and rests its snout on Angel's shoulder. He doesn't even seem to notice. "I want you to find other parts of me cute, you know? Not just me in pain. Sometimes I wonder if you think of me as, like, a person. Or if I'm just some cool thing you picked up on a rooftop that screams cute when you poke it." He hangs his head. The animal whines and he raises his hands in an awkward attempt to scratch it. The orange-haired girl makes an 'aw' under her breath. It kills me to see Angelos cut so low, especially by a girl. But this isn't my place to step in. It's Jay's. She has to answer for the damage she caused. 

"Besides," he says, "you said you didn't like me and you're always changing your mind. And I'm not over you doing all your crap to me, either. Even when you were hired to do it." 

Fallout blinks down at me, his shoulders shaking as if he has to suppress laughter. "Kids," he says with a shake of his head, like I'm not one myself. He looms over me with the air I'm an insect he can squash with a smack of his hand. "Funny, aren't they?"

"Yeah. A little." I squeeze my wrist and hang an inch in the air. My head's tilted up to meet the villain's eyes, which are dark and glowing. I want Gats. He would know what to do. "You didn't answer me, you know."

"I thought you were joking," he says. His head snaps toward the stairs, as if his spider-sense is tingling. I look that way too, but I only hear hushed whispers from the shops.

Jaylin frowns. She scratches her cheek with a 'hmm' and shrinks back a little, like something he said sunk. "I... Well." She draws in a breath. Her head tilts back and she studies the ceiling, her eyes a little glassy. "I care about you," she snaps. And there's anger in her voice. Her fingers clench around the whip and Angel flinches, but she makes no move to use it. "I want you to be okay, okay? That wasn't supposed to happen. I like you, and I was mean to you because that's my job. I couldn't exactly be all hearts and hugs when you were my prey."

Angel narrows his eyes. "Do you still think of me like that? Prey?"

Fallout glances back at them and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Let's give the lovers their space. Talk on the stairs?"

Jaylin rolls the whip in her hands, flexing the cord between her fingers. "No. Why would I?"

Angel takes a shuddering sigh and I frown. It makes no sense. Fallout, I mean, leaving the son he fought for alone with Jaylin. Villains never make sense like that, and a scratchy feeling rises from my toes. It leaves me biting my lip and digging my nails into my the already scarred skin. I can't get a grasp on Fallout. He's even more inconstant than Jaylin, and nothing like I thought he'd be like. I always thought he was dumb. The good guy of the baddies, at least. 

"Fine." I need to check on Natalie, and the stairs are close enough that I can throw myself into the fight if she calls for me. Heel to toe, I cross my legs and swoop a bow. "Lead the way, mister."

Hugs and squeals that Angel's alright, even if he's little bruised, will have to wait. Jaylin throws the whip over her shoulder and it whistles as it whooshes by my ear. My hand catches around the weapon before my brain even processes it's there. A perk of superspeed is super-speedy reflexes, I suppose. Fallout eyes it with a chuckle as he walks up the steps and past his two henchmen. 

They glare at me as I pass, heads resting on their palms as they listen to Jay and Angel bicker. Fallout takes my hand like a gentleman and I loop the whip over my opposite shoulder. Not that I have a use for it, except maybe to nab someone's attention with a crack. But I can cuss to do that. The stairs groan, splinters of wood burying into the soles of my tennis shoes. He brings me up into the break, his fingers clasped so lightly around my hand that I think he's scared he'll break it. He's a large man. Taller than Angel and Poison, his shoulders so wide they'd shame a cart horse's. His clothing is black and wrinkled. He wears a long jacket and his coattails swish when he moves. Light trickles through the smudged window's iron grates, pink splashing the floor like candy stripes.

Fallout slides his hand out of mine and leans against the wall. Mold pokes through the cracks in great green streaks and rubs against his jacket. He draws up a breath and winks shut an eye, the other one wide as he watches me.

"You want to save Starlight City," he says with a tilt of his head. As if it's a question. As if something like that needs to be asked. I blink once, twice.

"I do, and I want my friends back. You have Angelos."

"I need him," he says. "And you seem to forget he's my son and I have more claim to him than you."

I yank at a strand of hair and twirl it around my finger with as much force as I would whirl fettuccine around a fork. My eyes narrow and meet his. "No, he's not. He's Storm's son and Juniper's. They love him and care for him and everything. You—"

 "Storm and Juniper raising kids." The man shakes his head and laughs. "God, that's funny."

"They're great parents."

"I'm sure." He giggles. "If Juniper doesn't experiment on him in his sleep and Storm doesn't use him as target practice."I clench my hands around the whip to steady them. Fallout wheezes and brushes a tear from his lashes. "A mad scientist and an assassin."

He's lying to me about them. He's a supervillain and that's what supervillains do. "What do you want, Fallout?"

The villain speaks fast. "It's Owl. She's up to something." He wipes sweat off his forehead with his sleeve and the fabric rustles as it brushes his skin. "You have superpowers and anyone with those needs to fight her off."

"I'm not getting involved in your gang war," I say, an ear tilted back toward the room where Angel and Jay chat. Their words fall through the door as crisply as if I were with them.

"I don't know," Angel says. "You're a villain and I know you aren't all bad and I'm sorry for lashing out at you all those times and you came to rescue me and—"

A brick smashes through the low window. The glass pane explodes in shards like shrapnel and I wheel back. A jag slashes Fallout's eyebrow and blood splatters my face, warm like hot glue. My breath comes in warm spirals. A girl's shriek tears from upstairs. 

Cold washes over me like ice water dumped over my head. I've only known Natalie a few hours and I've memorized the way she screams. I shove Fallout back, tear up the flight of stairs and shoulder through the shop's back door. The room is dark, but the glow of the exit sign lights up a boy's eyes. Blue. Bluer than any sky or pond or sea could dream of becoming. They bleed into mine and they're shiny. Like they've been crying.

The silk of his shirt shines. How he got here, I can't tell. But his hands are punched in his pockets, and his face is lifted to meet mine. The cat ears twitch, his loose hair tumbled down to the nape of his neck at a stylish taper. A pink scar draws across his cheek and cuts the side of his face in even parts. I blink to make sure he isn't a mirage.

"Hev?" he asks, and his voice is soft and raspy, low with his accent. All at once, the working parts in me snap. My eyes burn with tears, and though my mind tells me to help the poor girl who screamed for me, for a second I'm frozen.

Gatsby.

"I'm sorry," he says. I rush toward him but he backs away. Wheels out of my arms so I can't touch him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

The girl's still screaming. "Heaven!" she cries. "Help!" I tear past him. My heart's racing even faster than I am. I have my boys back, but something's wrong.

The room is empty, all for a slim woman in red armor with her hand clasped around Natalie's throat.

"Hello, Heaven," Owl says over her shoulder.