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He looked up and saw Pyro Storm and Shadow Star locked in battle. Pyro Storm slammed into Shadow Star’s midsection, flying them both into one of the bridge’s towers, the suspension cables quivering loudly. One of the cables snapped, whipping into an abandoned SUV, practically splitting it in half.
Pyro Storm pulled back, and right when Guardian thought he’d done it, that he’d knocked Shadow Star out, a thick shadow shot forward, wrapping around him. Pyro Storm exploded, the light from his fire burning the shadow away. He turned and flew down toward the bridge, landing next to Guardian. Part of his costume was torn, one of his lenses cracked and dim. “He’s strong,” Pyro Storm panted. “Stronger than he was last time.”
“This isn’t like last time,” Guardian said. “You have me. There’s two of us and one of him. We can—”
Shadow Star pulled himself from the ruined towers, shadows rising.
They seemed endless as they surrounded him, blotting out the sky. He appeared to be made entirely of darkness, the star symbol on his chest blacked out, body writhing as if covered in coils of snakes. Massive columns of shadows grew around him, at least a dozen in all.
Through the darkness above Shadow Star, a blinking light, followed by thewhump whump whumpof spinning blades. A helicopter, the Action News logo on the side barely visible.
Shadow Star whirled around just as the helicopter’s spotlight turned on, a harsh beam of light that struck him dead-on, causing his shadows to fade. He shot up toward the helicopter, which banked sharply to the right. He flew underneath it, awayfrom the spotlight, and shadows wrapped around the landing skids, causing the helicopter to shudder. Bending backward, hands above his head, legs curled behind him, Shadow Star cried, “Catch!”
He hurled the helicopter down toward them, landing skids snapping, blades spinning.
Before Pyro Storm could react, Guardian shoved him out of the way. He raised his hands as the helicopter filled his world. The blades tore through the air, and as it fell toward him, Guardian could see the pilot’s face through the cockpit window, mouth open in a scream, hands wrapped around the cyclic, trying to pull the helicopter back up.
The spotlight was blinding, and Guardian raised his hands, calling upon his spark. It was waiting for him, and the air around him began to ripple. He ground his teeth together as he slid backward, the thin muscles in his arms and legs straining. Knowing he was about to be crushed—or worse—Guardian closed his eyes.
The sound of the helicopter—engine racing, blades whirring—was the only thing he heard, wind slapping against him.
But the impact did not come.
He opened his eyes.
The helicopter hung suspended above him, nose tilted down, blades spinning a foot from Guardian’s face, the spotlight shining on him from his chest down to his feet. The pilot gaped at him, and behind him, another man holding a large camera pointed at Guardian through the windshield.
“Behind you!” Pyro Storm yelled, and Guardian looked over his shoulder to see his shadow, the spotlight causing it to stretch long behind him. The shadow rose from the ground, taking shape—head and torso, hips and legs, arms rising. It started toward him but took a staggering step back as a ragged hole appeared in its middle, an arc of fire bursting through.
“I’ll handle it,” Pyro Storm snapped as he flew by Guardian, sizzling the air as his fire built around him.
Guardian crooked his fingers, and the helicopter droppeda few more feet, the pilot and cameraman shouting inside the cockpit. He managed to lower the helicopter to the ground, where it scraped along the pavement in a shower of orange sparks. It tilted to the side, blades striking the ground, breaking apart, metal splintering and flying off the bridge into the water below. The shrill alarms inside the cockpit faded into quiet beeps as the cameraman and the pilot peered out through the cracked windshield.
“Get out of here,” Guardian snarled at them. “Keep running until you’re off the bridge!”
The pilot started nodding, but then his eyes widened. “Look out!” he cried, voice muffled, but the warning clear.
Guardian whirled around to find Shadow Star standing behind him. “Heya, Nicky,” he said cheerfully. And then he backhanded Guardian across the face, causing him to fly back into the helicopter, grunting painfully as the nose dug into the small of his spine. He hit the ground on his knees, leaning forward, hands on the ground as he tried to suck in air. Everything hurt, and sweat dripped into his eyes.
He didn’t have the strength to fight when Shadow Star gripped the sides of Guardian’s helmet, pulling him up and up until his feet left the ground, kicking into nothing. Shadows snaked around his helmet as he slapped at Owen’s hands, his mind a storm of panic. Behind Shadow Star, Pyro Storm lay on his back, covered in writhing black that pummeled him over and over.
“Flying?” Shadow Star asked, sounding amused. “Shit, Nicky. You got some new tricks since last time we were here.”
“Why are you doing this?” Guardian gasped as he covered Owen’s hands with his own. Behind him, the faint sounds of feet slapping against the ground. Hopefully that meant the pilot and cameraman had managed to escape.
“Because I can,” Shadow Star said easily. “And even more than that, Iwantto. You’re so wrapped up in thinking you’re a hero because you saved my parents, even knowing they hate you. Your righteousness is exhausting.” He shook his head. “What’sthe point of trying to help people when they don’t want you to? When they’ll turn around and spit at your feet? Aren’t you tired of giving your all only to have it flung back in your face?”
“No,” Guardian snapped. “If there’s evenoneperson who needs help, then we’re gonna be there.” Shadow Star’s grip on Guardian’s helmet tightened, and inside, Nick heard the material beginning to groan. A flashing red word appeared in front of his eyes:WARNING. WARNING. WARNING.
“I suppose that’s one way to look at it,” Shadow Star said. “But, for the sake of argument, here’s another: they want something to be scared of?I’ll give it to them.”
The pressure on Nick’s helmet increased immensely, causing him to groan. Black spots began to dance across his vision. He blinked slowly when a voice came from the speakers inside the helmet. “Hold on, kid. We’re coming. Don’t give up.”
“Dad?” Guardian whispered as his helmet creaked. “Is that—”
But whatever else he might have said was lost when his helmetcollapsedaround his head, digging into his skull, his ears. Shadow Star grunted as he broke it apart, and hot air washed over Nick’s face, hair matted down against his forehead. The remains of his helmet fell to the ground.
Shadow Star slammed him back against the helicopter, Nick’s head knocking against metal, bright lights flashing across his vision. Dazed, he watched Shadow Star bring his fist back, shadows crawling along his knuckles, forming a sharp point aimed at Nick’s right eye.
