Jeremiah's POV

Of all the ways to spend a summer day, helping redo an old supervillain lair wasn't on my bucket list.

"Is this really necessary?" I complained. "We could just use the basement or something. Why do we need to remodel this entire building?"

"It has meaning to me," Dylan replied. "This has been my second home for a long time now. Now shut up and keep painting."

I let out a huff of annoyance and dipped my brush back into the bucket, coating the bristles in dark red paint. It took more time than I'd wanted it to, but eventually the whole first floor was repainted.

"I'm taking a cake break," I said, striding to the fridge and pulling out a slice of leftover cheesecake from the day before.

     "Technically, that's a pie," Dylan corrected. "Cheesecake is a misnomer."

     I rolled my eyes at him. "Whatever, nerd. It's delicious, and that's what matters."

I took a huge bite of the amazing dessert and reveled in the explosion of caramel-and-chocolate flavor.

     The newly installed entry bell went off on the ground floor, making me jump. I hated that side of super-hearing. It meant every sound was amplified, so even someone scratching their armpits was at high volume with no real mute setting for me.

Autumn and Isabelle entered, blathering on about their shopping trip. Why do some girls obsess over each other's fingernails? And the scent of nail polish was absolutely disgusting. I couldn't imagine having that nasty stuff on my hands all day.

Then again, being a guy who wears heels, so who was I to judge?

"Hey, Isabelle!" I greeted. She was in her casual clothes, a gray T-shirt and denim shorts. It was mid-June now, and the Southern California heat was brutal.

     "Hey, Gummy Jer," she teased. It was her pet name for me, ever since she heard my brother say something similar over the phone a few months ago.

     I grinned and snatched a compact bottle of Coke from Dylan's mini-fridge. "Did you bring the package?"

"Right here," She said, taking a container of mint Mentos from her backpack's side pocket.

"Autumn, do you have the camera?" I asked my best friend's twin sister. She nodded and brandished the video camera that we used for the twins' popular new virtual blog channel.

     I gave Autumn a thumbs-up, and she pressed the 'record' button.

"Hey, Fender Benders! This is your co-host Jeremiah speaking. Today's video is for a fun little science experiment," I began, looking into the camera with a smile. "We're doing a project on physical reactions and all that jazz. Here's what happens when you mix a rough surface—in this case, a mint—with the carbon dioxide from soda!"

I uncapped the soda bottle and said with a flourish, "Isabelle, if you would be so kind."

     She rolled her blizzard-blue eyes and took a single mint out of the container, holding it over the mouth of the bottle.

     "Three, two... one!"

     Isabelle dropped in the mint, getting a full blast of sugary liquid straight to the face. She screeched and spluttered, her face all scrunched up. Dylan started laughing in the background.

     I grinned at the camera and gestured to my thoroughly soaked friend. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is an example of what not to do when you try this at home. Jeremiah Rockwell, over and out!"

     Autumn stopped recording and rushed off to find some towels. Dylan and I were trying not to die from laughter, and failing miserably.

     Isabelle glared at us and wordlessly proceeded to shove the rest of my cheesecake into her mouth.

     "That was my food!" I exclaimed, surprised at the loudness of my own voice. I toned it down, although I was still annoyed.

"If we weren't friends, I would've zapped you for that," I told her with my arms crossed.

     Isabelle smirked at me. "It's not nice to electrocute a lady, Jeremiah. Especially your future wife."

     "Do you think I care about your gender right now?" I demanded, blushing fiercely. "That was my cheesecake!"

     "So I've heard," She replied with a wink.

     I stomped off, sulking.

     Shortly after the Coke explosion, we were all dressed in our super suits and ready for action, except for Dylan. He burned his Pariah costume a month ago, and he hadn't showed us his new suit yet.

"You know what I've been thinking?" I asked my friends.

"That I'm the most attractive person on the surface of the earth?" Levitation guessed.

"Someone has an ego," I muttered. "No. I'm thinking that this place needs an official name. Like the Batcave, but less emo."

     A scream cut through the air like a chainsaw through a watermelon.

     "We can figure that out later," Golden Ember said. "Right now, there's crime to stop."

     Dylan grabbed a spare black mask and utility belt, and we rushed out of the lair. Since I couldn't fly or run at superhuman speeds, I took my motorcycle.

As it turned out, the screech was none of our concern. The source was a teenage girl yelling excitedly at a friend over the phone about boy band concert tickets.

     I quickly snatched the phone out of her hands.

     "Hey!" The girl protested.

     I glared at the kid and wasted no time putting the little twerp in her place. "Keep the noise down, Miss. We're superheroes and we don't have the luxury to come running every time someone starts yelling over nothing. Just try to remember that next time."

I used my electricity powers to temporarily short out her device, ignoring Dylan's quizzical stare.

     "Let's get back to base." I told my friends with an aggravated sigh. "You owe me food, Lev."

Not waiting for a reply, I headed towards our hideout on my motorcycle, but Dylan caught up with me in a microsecond with his super speed and grabbed my shoulders.

     "What is your problem today?" He demanded, his slender fingers bruising my shoulders as his grip tightened.

     "For one thing, that hurts," I grunted, prompting him to let go of my shoulders. "And it's problems, plural. I'll tell you later."

     Dylan grabbed my waist tightly and shot into the air, hovering thirty feet above street level. That might not seem very high, but to someone deathly afraid of heights, it was more than terrifying enough.

     "You need to tell me what's going on," Dylan commanded fiercely. "Now."

     Put me down! I thought frantically, knowing that as a telepath he could read my mind. I'll tell you everything!

     His expression softened from iron to bronze, and he flew to us back the hideout. The security camera on the third level scanned Dylan and opened the window, allowing us to enter.

     "Spill," He commanded. "What's got you in such a bad mood?"

     I took a deep, shuddering breath before taking off my mask and speaking. "You know I don't do well under pressure."

     Dylan nodded. "High school graduation... I'm surprised you didn't have a panic attack, honestly."

     I laughed without humor. "I'm surprised I made it through high school, period. But anyway, I've been feeling... more than normal amounts of stressed lately."

     "Why?" He asked. "Does this have something to do with your grandparents?"

     I looked up at him. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

     "You don't need to be a mind reader to know your best friend," Dylan responded. He lowered his voice. "Are they getting sick or something?"

     "Not exactly. Grandma's worried sick, though," I answered. "Grandpa's back in his old Sonic Thunder suit. Can you believe there's a division of the Hero Coalition that deals with senior superheroes?"

     Dylan looked mystified. "Isn't Sonic Thunder a comic book character from like fifty years ago?"

     I cracked a grin. "Yeah, that's when Grandpa was in his twenties. He let some old comic company make a graphic novel series about him. They took some creative liberties, though. He never went to space to stop a meteor from hitting the earth."

     Dylan nodded. "And now... you're afraid for him, right?"

    I sighed heavily. "Yeah. It's just that... well. he's been retired for decades. He's out of practice, you know? The first time he tried to use his powers recently, he caused a town-wide blackout for more than eight hours."

     Dylan hugged me. "My parents are the same way. They hasn't used their powers in almost two years..."

He trailed off, then asked, "You want to go check on them?"

     "Who?" I asked.

    He rolled his dark brown eyes. "My sister and your girlfriend, dummy."

    "I don't have a girlfriend, Dill Pickle!" I replied. "If you're talking about Isabelle..."

     "Ding-ding-ding! We have a winner!" Dylan proclaimed in his best game-show announcer voice.

     "What do I win?" I asked, keeping up the game. "A cafe gift card? A new car?"

     "Neither! You win... a stick of deodorant!" Dylan responded cheerfully, producing said object from his pocket.

     I arched my eyebrows. "Do you just walk around with that on you?"

     He tossed it to me, and I caught it with my sharpened reflexes.

     "Put this on and take a shower." Dylan commanded. "You stink. I'll put your suit in the wash."

     "It's not my fault that I smell," I protested. "Grandpa's been making me try out at all these different sports. Football practice will be the death of me."

     "Good." He replied. "At least you're in better shape now, more or less."

    I sighed and headed off to take a shower. When I got dressed again, Dylan was standing shirtless in the gym area.

     For the first time, I truly noticed my best friend's lithe muscularity. Shaking my head, I jabbed a finger at his stomach. "And about me being in bad shape, you know we can't all be built like Olympic swimmers."

     "I'm not a swimmer," He corrected. "I'm a runner-fighter-knife-thrower hybrid."

     "Speaking of fighting, you want to do this right now?" I asked, raising my gauntlet-clad fists. "I need to let off some steam."

     Chuckling, Dylan said, "If we're going to duel, throw down the gauntlets."

     I stripped down to my boxer shorts, then squared up to my sparring partner. His six-foot height and visible abs contrasted starkly with my shorter stature and stocky build.

     "You're going to have a hard time beating me," I commented, holding my fists up in a combat stance.

     "And why's that?" Dylan questioned, sounding slightly amused.

     "Being short gives me one advantage," I replied. "I'm a smaller target."

     He rolled his eyes. "If I aim for your ego, this'll be a cakewalk."

     He struck with a knee and went for my straight for my gut, but I parried, pushing him off-balance. As he stumbled backwards, I rushed in and scored a solid strike to his torso.

    He tried to sweep me off my feet, but I caught his leg and threw him to the floor.

     "Static one, Dill Pickle zero," I half-laughed, grinning at my victory.

     Dylan shot to his feet and crouched in a catlike pouncing position, then sprang at me, his elbow colliding with my unprotected face with enough force to produce a cracking noise and a whole lot of blood. I crashed heavily to the floor, my nose a crimson fountain.

     "Sorry!" He exclaimed. "You okay?"

     "Ow," I groaned, closing my watery eyes as the pain radiated upwards. "I'll be okay, yeah. Not right now, though..."

     I heard the whoosh of flowing capes and the thud of boots on the floor.

Isabelle spoke, and her volume grated on my enhanced ears. "We leave you two morons alone for five minutes and this happens?"

     I could imagine the tense expression on Dylan's face as he wondered how on earth he was going to explain why I was bleeding on the floor. "Well, uh..."

     I opened my eyes enough to see Isabelle looming over me, a vicious scowl in place of her usual heroic smile. "I was going to take us all out for lunch, but now Jeremiah's half-naked on the ground getting blood everywhere!"

She glowered at Dylan, who backed up nervously. "You hit your best friend. You took him into the air even though you know he's scared of heights. You tried to kill everyone in this room and a bunch of other people a just few months ago! There are a lot of skeletons in your closet, Pariah. Don't think I forgot."

     At that moment, when Dylan stepped forward to attack, Isabelle pinned him against the wall with her telekinesis, and Autumn set her fist on fire to protect her brother.

In that same instant, I jumped to my feet, ignoring the wave of pain that swept over me. I grabbed Isabelle by the wrist and yanked her backwards, shattering her concentration. Dylan dropped to the floor, landing on his feet.

     "STOP!" I roared, causing heads to turn towards me. Isabelle's face was a mere six inches from my own, her blue eyes wide with shock. Dylan sped over to us, but I held out my arm to halt him.

     "That's enough. Stop!" I commanded. "Everyone just calm down, okay?"

     Autumn extinguished her fire, staring at her feet. Dylan took half a step backwards, looking ashamed, and Isabelle locked eyes with me, her expression one I couldn't decipher. I zapped her with enough power to sting a little bit, and she jerked away from me.

     "We need to learn how to work together as a unit," I said forcefully. I retrieved my suit, clenching my fists as I returned to the room my friends were in. I clapped to grab their attention.

     "It's been how long since Maximus Volt disappeared?" I asked coldly, sweeping my eyes over my friends' faces like a shark singling out his prey. Dylan flinched at the mention of his former villainous master and mentor, who also happened to be my biological father. My eyes narrowed into slits.

     "Uh... Six months," Autumn replied shakily.

     I nodded. "Exactly. And during that time, what have we done to make sure he's gone for good?"

I answered my own question. "Absolutely nothing. We need to straighten out our priorities, find Maximus, and beat him into the ground. And in order to do that, you three need to quit this stupid infighting!" I glared at all of them, but Isabelle was my prime target.

     I stomped to the fridge, chugged down some double-shot espresso to energize myself, and headed back into the other room.

     "Good pep talk, everyone." I said with feigned cheeriness. "Now if you could all get your acts together, we have work to do."