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And so he did.
The fire and electricity snapped and snarled before it flickered out, leaving only dark wisps and the smell of burnt air. Smoke and Ice stood for a moment longer before they both collapsed inside the metal prison. For a moment, Nick thought he’d gone too far, that they’d killed them both, but then Ice groaned, eyes fluttering, and Smoke’s chest rose up and down, up and down.
Nick collapsed to his knees, strength draining from him as Jazz and Gibby hugged him tightly. His body hurt and his head felt like it was splitting in half. Panic was there, along the edges, reaching for him, ready to pull him under. But Jazz and Gibby were there, telling him to breathe in, breathe out. Again, Nicky. In. Out. In and out. He took their strength and held it close, the vise grip on his lungs eventually loosening as his vision cleared.
“You did good, kid,” a voice said, and Nick and Jazz and Gibby looked up.
TK stood above them, his helmet reflecting Nick’s tired face back at him. TK looked like he was going to reach for Nick but took a step back instead, hand curling into a fist. His chest heaved.
“Yeah,” Nick said tiredly. “Thank you. For coming. For being here. For trusting me.”
TK nodded but didn’t speak.
A memory, flitting about Nick’s head like a little bird. He blinked slowly. “You said—you said that it’s easier to stand together than it is to struggle apart. Where did you hear that?”
But TK didn’t answer. Someone called Nick’s name, and he turned his head to see Dad running toward them, a terrified expression on his face. Gibby’s and Jazz’s parents were doing the same, their daughters rising to their feet and going to meet them halfway. Nick looked back to TK only to see the Extraordinary rising above him, arms spread like wings. Just as he disappeared through the hole in the ceiling, Dad lifted Nick up, holding him close, his face buried in Nick’s neck. Nick’s feet barely touched the floor, and he said, “Dad, I’m okay. I swear.”
If anything, Dad squeezed him tighter. “Let me have this.”
Beneath the tough exterior, Dad was nothing but a marshmallow, so Nick allowed it. And if he shed a tear or two of relief, well, that was just between them. Close. It’d been so close again.
But that was the life of a hero, Nick knew. Danger was always going to be part of being an Extraordinary.
Dad finally set Nick down, cupping his face, searching for what, Nick didn’t know. “Who was that?” Dad asked in a hushed voice.
“TK,” Nick said, turning his face in his father’s hands. “He’s … like me.”
Something crossed Dad’s face, something that looked like hope mixed with grief. Nick didn’t understand. “He? Who is he?”
“Don’t know. Never seen him outside of his costume. He’s—”
“Nick!”
He pulled out of his dad’s arms and turned toward his friends. They rushed toward him, Seth and Jazz and Gibby all shouting incoherently. Then Seth was in his arms, kissing his mouth and cheeks and chin and forehead. Gibby jumped on Seth’s back, legs wrapped around his waist, fists pumping in the air, Seth taking a hard step back to keep from falling. Knees weak, Nick slumped to the floor again in front of them, Jazz’s hand tugging on his hair as she smiled down at him. “You did it.”
“No,” Nick said quietly, suddenly exhausted. “Wedid it. All of us.”
“Team Pyro Storm,” Jazz agreed.
“Goddamn Lighthouse,” Gibby said.
“The best superhero team that has ever existed,” Seth said. He was still in costume, though it was torn in places, one of the lenses in his helmet cracked and dim. Nick reached up and brushed a thumb against Seth’s bloodied lips.
Then, his eyes widened and he tried to sit up. “Mateo. Holy shit, we need to—”
“Gone,” Seth said, pushing himself up off Nick with a groan. “Said he’d meet up with us later. Wanted to get out of here before anyone asked questions.” He sat down on his butt, pulling his knees to his chest. “What are the chances that he’d be here?”
Nick said, “I don’t know. It was weird, right? It’s like—like—”
Do you know how many high schools are in the city? How could I have possibly known I’d be working at yours? Besides, it was a last-minute thing. Got a message to pick up some hours. Someone called in sick or their cat died in a house fire or something, I don’t know. The number wasn’t one I recognized, but I don’t usually ask questions when it comes to getting paid.
“It’s like it was planned,” Nick whispered. What if … no. That couldn’t be. He wouldn’t …
“Nicky?” Gibby asked, sounding concerned.
“Burke,” Nick said, stomach twisting slickly. “Simon Burke. That’s what Smoke and Ice said. They were trying to draw us out. DrawPyro Stormout. Something Mateo said—he wasn’t supposed to be here tonight. Got a message from a number he didn’t recognize. What if that was part of Burke’s plan? To get us all here to …” He scowled as he looked around wildly. “Where is she?”
“Who?” Jazz asked.
