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Guardian winced as he banged his funny bone against the wall of the duct. “Being altruistic is so hard. It’d be easier if we didn’t have to care about everyone and everything.”
Pyro Storm chuckled. “That’s what being a hero means.”
“I know. But what if—”
The metal underneath him creaked dangerously. Guardian looked down slowly in horror as the duct began to sway side to side. “Um,” he said. “Should it be doing that, or…?”
Guardian—meaning Nick—was exceptional at falling. Off a bridge. Off a roof. Hell, out of bed. So it shouldn’t have been surprising when the ductwork underneath him collapsed with a loud shriek of metal, causing him to plummet face-first toward the ground ten feet below him. “Oh, crap, oh, crap, oh,crap!”
He raised his hands as the cement floor hurtled toward him, and in his head, that spark like a star exploded. He closed his eyes, hoping he’d be intact enough for an open-casket funeral where everyone would sob and wail that he’d been taken far too soon, that he was the best of them, how can we go on without Nicholas Bell?
For a moment everything faded around him. The building, the metal falling with him, the fact that he had wanted to prove himself tonight, all of it. The only things in existence were Nick and this exploding light, this light that never quite did what he wanted it to do. He reached for it.
Please,he said, either out loud or in his head, he didn’t know. He brought the light to his chest, curling around it, holding it close.Please.
When he didn’t end up as a pile of bones and exposed brain matter, he opened his eyes and found himself floating a few feetabove the cracked cement floor, pieces of metal from the duct swirling around him. He stared in wonder, reaching out and pushing his finger against a piece of metal, watching it slowly spin away. He heard voices in his head, his friends demanding to know if he was dead. “I’m doing it,” he whispered in awe. “Hell yes! Suck on that, you stupid—”
Guardian fell the remaining distance to the ground, landing hard, metal clanging against the cement and bouncing away. “Ow,” he groaned against the floor. “Oh my freakinggod,it hurts. Everything hurts. Lighthouse, Guardian is down. I repeat, Guardian is down and is grievously injured. Send a medic and potentially a priest to perform last rites!”
He rolled over onto his back, grimacing at the aches in his chest and knees. Above him, Pyro Storm appeared at the edge of the collapsed duct. Guardian waved at him weakly.
Even through his pain, he could still appreciate Pyro Storm rolling out of the vent, somersaulting in midair, and floating gently toward the ground, landing on his feet.
Pyro Storm knelt down next to him, cupping his face. “You’re fine. It was only three feet.”
“Against a hard surface,” Guardian said. “Look. Look how hard the floor is.”
“I can see,” Pyro Storm said. “It’s probably the hardest floor ever made.”
Guardian shoved Pyro Storm’s hands away. “Yeah, yeah. You’ve got jokes. Hysterical.” He pushed himself up from the ground, grimacing. But then all was forgotten when he remembered what he’d just done. “Dude, Ifloated.Did you see that? Andyes,I know it only seems to happen when I’m falling, butstill.”
“You should probably change your name to Floating Man,” Gibby said in his ear. “That’s sure to strike fear into the hearts of our enemies.”
“You good to go?” Pyro Storm asked, looking Guardian up and down. “Or do you want to call this off?”
Guardian shook his head. “I’m fine. Let’s keep going.”
He looked around to see them standing in a large room thatappeared to be used for storage. Shelves lined the walls on either side of him, filled with cans of paint and cleaning supplies, their stench thick and harsh. Behind them, a door that led out into the main floor of the building. He rushed toward it, planning on bursting through and spouting off a kickass catchphrase that would cause the armed goons to tremble in fear. He skidded to a stop before he could think of one, remembering what Seth had taught him.
Guardian pressed the side of his head against the door, trying to determine if anyone on the other side had heard him. He barely flinched when Pyro Storm appeared beside him, lips curving into a small smile.
“Good,” Pyro Storm said as he leaned against the door, and Guardian warmed at the praise. “You’re thinking ahead. Rather than shoving the door open and startling someone, you’re taking it slow. It won’t always be like this, but when you get the chance to take your time, it’ll make things easier in the long run. What do you hear?”
“Nothing. No voices. No movement.”
“What does that mean?”
Guardian stepped back from the door. “Either they’re farther in the building and didn’t hear us, or they’re waiting to spring a trap.”
“Exactly,” Pyro Storm said. “Gibby, the schematics again, please. Interior only. Show us where we are. Looks like a storage closet.”
Inside Guardian’s helmet, the building formed once more. The image zoomed in, showing two blinking dots in the west corner of the building. “Found you,” she said. “You’re a little off course, but… hang on.” Through the speakers came the sound of fingers flying over a keyboard. The image spun one hundred eighty degrees, a white dot blinking on the south end of the building. “There’s where you need to go. It’s where the jewels are supposed to be. Thieves, too, if they haven’t heard you.”
The image collapsed. “Through the door,” Guardian said. “Down the hall. Last door on the right out to the showroom.” Hereached for the doorknob and began to turn it, only to have Pyro Storm’s hand fall on his, stopping him from opening the door.
“Careful,” Pyro Storm said as Guardian looked at him. “You know this. Slow.”
Guardian nodded as Pyro Storm stepped back. “This would be so much easier if we had flash-bang grenades. Just toss one of those suckers out there andblam! Everyone is blinded.”
