Oscar had to get out of Portland.

Not only was Atlas still combing through the city searching for him, but it rained way too much there. He couldn't use his abilities in the rain. If the Atlas agents caught him out in the rain, he was screwed.

So, he bought a bus ticket with the money he got off some lowlifes downtown. It was incredibly easy to get people to do what he wanted when he showed them he could conjure fire from his palms.

He didn't want to rob people, but he didn't have a choice. He had no money and needed to get out of the city. Atlas had forced his hand.

His destination was California. Los Angeles to be exact.

It was perfect. He could get there within the next day and the climate was perfect. Rarely any rain and there were beaches galore. Plus, there was a large Latino population so he would fit right in.

With a bag full of stolen clothes that didn't really fit him, he made his way through the crowded bus station. His transit was scheduled to leave at 8:00 PM—which was fifteen minutes from then. Not wanting to get spotted by anyone who might recognize him, he opted to show up for his bus as late as possible.

He had no doubt a few agents would be posted up within the station in search of him.

He was prepared, though. His ticket had been bought under a fake name—meaning they wouldn't find him amongst the list of passengers should they look. The only way they would find him was if they were checking everyone who got on a bus.

And that wasn't likely.

As he weaved his way through tourists and travelers, he pulled his hood tighter over his face. He picked out a few cameras tucked away in faraway corners. He couldn't be seen. He wouldn't let himself get caught. If worse came to worse, he would burn the entire station to the ground if he had to.

He wasn't a hero anymore. The time for morality was over. Survival was the only thing on his mind.

With one hand on his travel bag and another on the silver lighter in his pocket, he made his way to the benches around the area his bus would pick him up from. He stayed close enough to the crowd that any cameras wouldn't pick him up but far away enough so that no one would look at him.

Everyone now and then, someone would throw a glance his way. No one recognized him. At least, he hoped they didn't. He made sure to keep his head on a constant swivel as he looked out for any agents.

They're not gonna find me, he told himself. You're in the clear.

He repeated the words in his head while tapping his foot on the ground. His bus was set to arrive any minute now. Once he got on, he would be home free.

A frown twisted his lips.

He didn't have a home anymore. Or a family. They had been taken away from him. Ghost ripped them out of his grasp and threw it into the fire. No friends either. Once they found out what he did, they disowned him and left him for the wolves.

He was on his own. He couldn't depend on anyone except himself. Trust no one. That was the motto he went by now.

If he had any chance at surviving, he had to follow it.

Where is this damn bus?

His eyes were wide with a sense of restlessness. Glancing at the digital clock on a nearby info board, he realized his bus should have shown up already. Sweat beaded above his brow as he frantically looked around.

Had they found him? Had they stopped the bus from coming to lure him into a trap?

A million different thoughts bounced around his frantic mind. Mumbling under his breath, he kept looking around for Atlas agents. While he didn't see any, he began suspecting that anyone around him could have been his enemy. He tucked his bag closer to his body and removed his hand from his pocket.

If anything popped off, he needed to be ready to attack.

"You alright, son?" someone asked from behind him.

He quickly spun around, his face slick with sweat and his chest heaving. "What?"

"I asked are you alright?" An elderly man with skin the color of worn leather was sitting on a bench along the wall. A scruffy, gray beard decorated the lower portion of his face. Warm, brown eyes stared back at Oscar. "You looked stressed." He rummaged through the satchel next to him and produced a granola bar. "Want one? It's not much but—"

"No," Oscar said. "I'm good."

The old man shrugged. "Suit yourself." He unwrapped the granola bar and took a bite. "So, where you headed off to, son?" He took a peek at his stolen backpack. "I see you're a light traveler."

Oscar squinted at the man. "None of your business."

He couldn't get caught up talking to someone. Atlas would be banking on him being distracted. Shaking his head, he turned back around.

"Hey, wait a minute," the man said. "I've seen you somewhere before."

Oscar's entire froze. His brain failed to come up with a next move.

"You're that superhero boy," the man continued. He rose from the bench with the help of a cane. "Ain't that right?"

Oscar turned around and marched up to the man. He looked around twice before cutting his burning gaze to the elder's face. "Look, that's not me. It's not. Okay? Now, just leave me alone."

The old man held his hands up innocently. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean any trouble. You just looked an awful lot like him." He arched a bushy eyebrow at him. "You sure you ain't him?"

He looked the man up and down for a moment. He seemed harmless enough. Then again, he could have been an undercover Atlas agent.

"Who are you?"

"Name's Samuel. And you?"

Oscar hesitated. He told himself he wouldn't trust anyone. But that didn't mean he couldn't make small talk while waiting for the bus. Besides, he would probably never see this man again. Judging by how old he lucked, there was a good chance he would forget their entire conversation within the next hour.

"I'm Oscar." He leaned in close to Samuel's ear. "And I am that superhero."

Samuel grinned at him. "I knew it!" He nodded at him. "I heard about what you did at that apartment building. The one with the fire. You saved those people. I hear they call you Fuego."

Oscar scowled.

I didn't save everyone.

"I don't go by Fuego anymore," he revealed.

"Oh no?" Samuel frowned. "That's a shame. I quite liked that name."

"Also, I'm not a hero," Oscar told him. "At least, not anymore. I...I did some things. Things I shouldn't have done that got some people hurt."

The old man gestured at the bag he was holding. "That why you running?"

Oscar nodded.

"I see." Samuel stroked his beard. "You know, running from your problems won't solve 'em. Eventually, we all have to face our demons."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I don't really need a lecture right now. Thanks, though."

"I'm an old man, son," Samuel joked. "It's what I do. Also, whatever it is that you did, it doesn't make you a bad person. We've all done some things we're not proud of."

"What do you know?"

The man gave him a smile full of knowledge, wisdom, and hidden secrets. "Oh, I know more than you think."

Oscar shook his head. "Yeah, well, thanks for the pep talk but I've gotta—" He glanced at the info board nearby. His heart nearly stopped once he realized he was at the wrong pickup spot. The one he was at had departed for a different city nearly thirty minutes before. The spot he was meant to be at was a few places down.

Over the crowd, he spotted the bus he was meant to be on. People were already boarding. His breath hitched.

He turned his head toward the other side of the platform. Two people—one man and one woman clad in Atlas-standard suit—were wadding through the sea of people in the station. They both sported shades and a silver Atlas pin attached to their suit pockets.

They were also headed right for him.

Shit.

He quickly faced a confused Samuel. "It's been great talking with you but I've gotta run."

Samuel glance in the direction of the Atlas agents. "Are those the people you're running from, son?"

Oscar had half a mind to ignore his question and make a run for the bus. But if he did that, the agents would surely see him if they hadn't already. And if they found him, he was never going to get away. Not without doing something he really didn't want to do.

Turning back to Samuel, he nodded vehemently.

The man eyed him for a moment. "You know, I heard about what's been going on with the company you used to work for. That crooked Senator Crane has taken control over it. I don't know you, but I know you're a good kid. I can see it in your eyes."

Oscar screwed his face at him. Huh?

Samuel shuffled forward and nudged Oscar in the direction of his bus stop. "Go on now. I'll handle those people for you."

He blinked rapidly, shocked. "Seriously?"

"You've been through some things, I can tell that much. I can also tell that you need a break," Samuel said. "And I'm giving you one." He grinned. "Now, get outta here before I change my mind."

Overfilled with relief and joy, Oscar thanked the man profusely before speedwalking toward his bus. It was almost done boarding. If he wasn't on it within the next few minutes, it would leave without him. As he brushed past people, he rifled through his bag and pulled out his crumpled bus ticket.

"Wait!"

Panting like a dog on a summer's day, he made it to the bus right as the driver was about to close the doors. He thrust his ticket toward the driver. They gave him an unimpressed glare before telling him to get on.

As he walked up the steps, he cast a look in Samuel's direction. The man was talking with the two Atlas agents, most likely spewing nonsensical nothings at them in an effort to interrupt their search.

He smiled at the man.

Samuel glanced at him over his shoulder, nodded, and resumed speaking to the agents with a goofy smile on his face.

"You getting on or what?" the bus driver asked him.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," Oscar grumbled as he made his way toward the back of the vehicle.

Once he found an empty seat, he sunk into it and pulled his hood over his eyes. Soon, the bus' engine roared to life. Within minutes, they were out of the station and onto the main freeway.

Now that the coast was clear, Oscar gazed out the window. They were passing over a bridge overlooking the water. The moon reflected off the dark, rippling surface.

As they crossed the bridge, he thought about Samuel. A total stranger had helped him escape. The man owed him nothing, yet he still helped him.

He was a truer friend than the others who had called themselves his family.

A scowl twisted his lips.

They had abandoned him when he needed them the most. He wondered if Atlas would send them to come find him. If they did, he would cut them down like the weeds that used to grow in his abuela's yard.

He wondered if they would send Victoria.

Once upon a time, he had envisioned them getting together. He would eventually ask her out, and she would eventually cave in. But those plans had gone out the window—along with everything else Atlas related.

He felt nothing for Victoria Shaw anymore. Now she was just Arsenal. Sharpshooting Atlas agent and daughter of Pearce Shaw. They all were just agents now. Codenames. Enemies. He felt nothing toward any of them. As far as he was concerned, they were dead to him. And if he ever did have to fight them, he would make sure they were actually dead.

But before that, he would get his revenge on the one who had caused him all this pain.

Ghost.

Even though she was in Atlas' custody, he would find a way to make her pay for what she did to him. For what she did to his family.

She deserved to burn to the ground like the building his sister and uncle died in.

He would go after President Crane too. All of this had started with him. It would end with him as well. The man and those around him would pay.

They all would pay.

Oscar Jimenez was nada now. Gone. Faded into memory like the smoke that had engulfed his uncle's apartment. The hero once called Fuego was dead. Killed. Burned to ash. But from those ashes rose another. A phoenix; a completely new person born from the same inferno he lost his family to. A person who wouldn't stop until all the wrongs against him were made right. A person who wouldn't stop until justice was served.

His enemies would find themselves trapped in a swell of blinding, angry fire, slowly being choked to death by smoke and ash. But before they died, they would see the face of their killer. They would know his name. It would be the last thing they would see.

His name was Inferno, and he was coming for them.

He was coming for them all.