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“Ugh,” Nick said, making a face. “If this is your version of a midlife crisis, we’re gonna need to decide if I can be seen in public with you. I have a reputation to maintain.”
“Riiight,” Dad said, wiggling his mustache. “Keep telling yourself that, kid. Burrito Jerry likes it. That’s enough for me. He’s got good taste.”
“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Burrito Jerry said seriously.
Everyone crowded at the back of Matilda, trying to look nonchalant as they blocked the view of the interior so Seth could change into his Pyro Storm costume. Gibby helped him put on his helmet, the red lenses flashing as they came online. Gibby spun around, ducking to avoid hitting her head on the roof of the van, fingers flying over the keyboard, eyes fixed on the monitor in front of her. “Lighthouse, you copy?”
“We do,” Martha said, voice crackling from the speakers. “We have your position locked thanks to the button pins. Signal strong and clear.”
“Good work, Gibby,” Trey said, his pride evident. “I don’t know how you figured all this stuff out, but it’s impressive.”
Gibby preened, ducking her head as she smiled.
Miss Conduct leaned her head into the van. “You heard from Chris?”
“He’s online, too,” Martha said. “As of ten minutes ago he was working crowd control. He’ll be at the entry point making sure you get in without any trouble.”
Chris’s voice filled the back of the van, his voice a low mutter as if trying to not be overheard. “How long until you get here? Need to make sure I’m there. I—hold on.” He raised his voice. “I’m heading over to help get people in. Tell the sergeant in case she asks.” Then, lowering his voice once more, “You guys gotta hurry. What’s your ETA?”
“Fifteen minutes,” Dad said.
“Got it. Make sure you get in my line. We’re checking purses and bags. I’ll get you through.”
“Will do,” Nick said, turning around and hurrying back to the SUV, pulling his heavy backpack out before shutting the door. When he turned around, Pyro Storm stood at the edge of the parking garage, hands on the stone barrier in front of him. He bent over, scanning the streets and the throngs of people moving toward Burke Tower. Nick left him to it, going back to Matilda. Jazz sat on the left side of the van, hunched over, staring at the two monitors in front of her. Gibby worked furiously on her own setup, muttering under her breath.
“Jazz, you reading this?” Pyro Storm asked. On Jazz’s screens, the view from Pyro Storm’s helmet zoomed in, scanning over the faces in the crowd.
“Yep,” she said. “When you head to the tower, keep your head pointed down toward the street. If Owen’s out there somewhere, we’ll find him.”
“And the other stuff?” he asked.
“Working on it,” Gibby said without looking away from her own screens. “I’ll be ready.” She shook her head. “As if that firewall can keep me out. Amateurs.”
“Good,” Pyro Storm said, and Nick peered over the side of Matilda to see him squaring his shoulders. “I’ll head out.”
“Wait,” Nick called, shouldering his backpack and hurrying toward him. Pyro Storm turned, and Nick cupped the sides ofhis helmet, already feeling the heat emanating from him. He pressed his forehead against the helmet, blinking against the brightness of the lenses. “Be careful,” Nick whispered.
“I will,” Pyro Storm promised. “You, too. If you need me, let me know. I don’t care if it ruins everything else. Live to fight another day.”
“I know.”
Pyro Storm nodded, stepping back from Nick. “Good to go?”
“Wait,” Dad said as another group of people walked by. “Hold. Hold. Okay. Go. Now.”
“Hey, Nick?”
“Yeah?”
Pyro Storm said, “It’s time to burn.” And then in flash of fire, he rocketed upward, faster than Nick had ever seen him fly before. Within seconds, he was a dot in the sky, high above Nova City.
Circling back to the open doors of Matilda, Nick looked in and said, “You guys good?”
“Don’t you worry,” Miss Conduct said, the stench of fried ozone around her as she lifted her hand, tiny arcs of electricity crawling along her fingers. “No one touches our girls while I’m around.”
“Go,” Gibby said, glancing at Nick. “We’ll be your eyes and ears but watch your back.”
“I’ll just sit here being the best I can be,” Burrito Jerry said. “Jasmine said she might even let me use the night-vision goggles. Can you imagine? Seeing in the dark! What will they think of next?”
