Art got the two young women into his van and drove down the street. Fire and rescue were zooming through town towards the destroyed neighborhood, and Art abided by the rules—he pulled out of the way and waited. However, he seethed at the delay, and his wife was absently twirling a vine around her finger. "Can't you just go?" she asked impatiently as a third firetruck flew past.

"And get us arrested?" Art retorted. His black van had been a little scorched, but otherwise unharmed. It wasn't specifically made for Art for nothing. "Not a good plan. The more of a delay at finding Hal there is, the more chance of him getting found and killed there will be."

A vine slapped the back of his head. "Don't be patronizing," she warned him.

"Turn right up here," Diana interrupted. "And hurry. He's going into shock, I think."

"Can't have that," Art muttered. He pulled a hasty right, nearly clipping the curb. "Any sign of pursuit, honey?"

Storm glared at him. "Not yet, dear."

An exasperated sigh came from the backseat of the van. "Are you two always arguing?" Diana asked.

"No," Art said.

"Yes," Storm put in at the same time. Art took his eyes off the road to glare at her, and he paid for it. "Watch where you're going!" his wife shouted.

Seconds later, he slammed into a car and all three of them were jerked forward. Again, Art was glad that he had his practically-indestructible van. However, the other car was smashed to a pulp. "Oops," he said.

"Oops?" Storm looked like the top of her head was going to pop off. "For Pete's sake, Art, we were supposed to avoid drawing attention!"

Art sighed and got out of the van. "You two go after Hal," he said. "I'll deal with this."

. . . . . . . . . .

Only a few minutes later, Hal felt someone lay a hand on his shoulder. He blinked blearily, raising his red-rimmed eyes to the blonde girl kneeling in front of him. "Di?" he said, licking his dry lips. For some reason, he felt ill and uncertain.

The girl gently brushed his red hair from his sweaty forehead. "It's me," she said. "Diana. I've brought help. Please, just sit there, don't do anything."

The woman from the disaster on Hal's street knelt down beside Diana. She dug into a bag she was carrying and produced a jar of something. "This is a salve made by our best medics," she explained. "And trust me—we've got amazing medics and scientists. You should be feeling better within two hours." Gently, Thorn moved his shirt aside to get at the hole in his stomach.

As Thorn spread the salve over the injury, Hal saw Diana glance over her shoulder nervously. "Something's wrong with Eagle," she reported.

Hal felt Thorn's fingers stiffen before she resumed the soothing movement. It felt cooling and soothing while still stinging painfully at the same time. Hal grimaced. "Keep me posted," she said. "There was something fishy about that car. We're going to need to be ready to beat a hasty retreat if necessary."

"How do you know?" Hal asked Diana.

The girl gave a shy sort of smile. "I can read minds."

Hal stared at her. Every embarrassing thought he'd ever had about Diana and while he was with her passed through his mind in seconds. Panic settled into his mind when he remembered all the times he'd thought about how he was taking advantage of her. "Oh gosh," he rasped out. No boy ever wants to hear that a girl has read his every single thought.

Diana broke into giggles. "Don't panic so!" she said. "I'm glad you're my friend, even if you're most definitely not attracted to me."

That made Hal's cheeks turn bright red. "I'm going to die," he mumbled.

"Though I can't say anything about your shame," Thorn said, "you won't die from your injury, at least. Now for the hard part. You're currently homeless and wanted by United and ... other unsavory characters. Would you trust us enough to take you somewhere where you'd be safe, and where you could learn your powers?"

Hal stared at his hands. They were no longer flaming, but the memory of what he could do—of what he had done—seemed to have been permanently burned into his memory ... literally. What would happen to him if he refused them? He couldn't go home, he couldn't go back to school. What would happen if he hurt someone else? He'd already probably killed everyone on his street. When his parents came back, they'd likely not even want to look at him, and he wouldn't have been able to face them anyway. Besides, what if he lost control and accidentally killed them as well? He would never be able to live with himself.

Hal swallowed past a lump in his throat and looked up at Thorn. "What about if I hurt someone?" he asked.

Thorn smiled as she wiped his blood off her fingers with a towel from her bag. "Hal, we all have our troubles and our mistakes. When my powers emerged, I accidentally choked a gardener I thought was going to hurt the plants."

"I'm guessing he died?"

"No. Turned out he was a villain trying to draw me out and kidnap me," she admitted. "So you see, we've all been manipulated and attacked. You're one of us, Hal. To prove it to you, my name's not really Thorn. It's Storm Brendan. The man from earlier, Arthur Brendan, is my husband."

Hal looked down at his lap. "I guess I'll go with you. It's not like I've got any choice," he mumbled.

"Now you're making it sound like we're forcing you," Storm said, standing up and putting her hands on her hips.

At that, Hal hastily raised his eyes to her. "N-no!" he said. "I don't believe that. It's my situation that's forcing me. You saved my life."

That made Storm smile. "You're very welcome, Hal. It was my pleasure. Now, I think we should be getting back to Art. Can you stand, Hal?"

Hal shook his head after trying. "No ... ouch."

"Di, call Art for me, please?" Storm requested.

The girl squeezed her eyes shut, and only seconds later, the man was running down the alley. He was out of breath and put his hands on his knees when he reached them. "United—the car," he puffed. "Need to go. More coming."

"What is United?" Hal asked.

"Don't ask," Storm told him. "Art, take the boy. Diana, keep that mind of yours open to anyone who might be approaching. Is the van alright?"

Art bent down over Hal. "They didn't know the van was indestructible," he explained.

"Practically," Storm muttered under her breath.

"And they pulled the car out in front of us to create a crash," Art went on. "If we were killed in it, awesome! If not, we'd be dazed and easily finished off. Thankfully, the van squashed the guys in the car and their reinforcements only came after you two went after Hal here. But we've only got minutes before they turn up, and I'd like to be back to the van by that time. Sound good to you two?"

Both Diana and Storm nodded. They could find no flaws in Art's plan. Seeing their agreement, the man bent down and put one arm under Hal's knees and the other under his arms. With only the slightest grunt, Art lifted him up as easily as Hal's mother had picked up those huge bags of birdseed she had.

However, Hal's long arms and legs stuck out, making him look like a praying mantis or a grasshopper. Art gave a brief snort of laughter. "You look like a bug," he told him.

"Thanks," Hal said through gritted teeth. Pain was shooting up and down his body. This was worse than the time he'd broken his leg falling out of a tree he'd climbed on a dare.

They moved through the alleyway until they reached the end. When they looked out, Storm swore violently, and Hal flinched. His mom had never said words like that, and if he'd said that, she would have washed his mouth out with soap—twice. Storm seemed oblivious to his discomfort. "Trouble," she said, and pointed.

Their van was surrounded by about ten heavily-armed men, all looking around, obviously trying to find the owners of the black van. Art laid down Hal on the ground gently before flicking his hands downward. Two long, golden beams of light came out of his palms, crackling with energy. "Well, sweetie," he said. "We'll just have to tell them it's rude to keep a man from driving his van, won't we?"

"Sometimes I think you love that van more than you love me, darling," she answered. Vines tugged at her hair, sprouting up out of the ground around her. Storm had both her pistols in her hands. "Diana, watch Hal for us. Eagle, you ready?"

"I was born ready." He kissed her tenderly before leaping over the car parked on the sidewalk and running towards their van. Storm was seconds behind him, vines lashing at their enemies and her guns firing.

Hal looked at Diana, dazed. "Are they really sane?" he asked.

Diana shrugged helplessly. "No clue," she said.

She crouched behind the car with Hal, keeping a close eye on him. He tried not to flush at the concern she was showing his still-oozing stomach wound. It was uncomfortable, both the injury and her attention, and he wished the other two would come back.

Then he heard Art yelling. "Thorn, stop them!"

Too late, Hal saw vines begin to wrap around the car he and Diana were behind. His jaw dropped in a silent gasp as an explosion blew it straight at them.

They were both going to be crushed.