The Throm went down easy, my blood working as a substitute water. What was difficult, however, was helping Reload take his. His hands were fractured, unable to properly hold the pills, and he struggled to swallow it with his broken jaw.

  So, I did what any good boss would. I shoved the pill down his throat in the middle of the sidewalk. It was uncomfortable pushing my fingers past his bloated tongue and blood coated mouth, but it had to be done. Even though the fight only lasted a few minutes, he was going to need days to heal.

  Reload still tried his best to smile, but the sight only worried me. He was a bloody, broken mess, and if it wasn’t for his super resistance, he would’ve died in that fight. Once you were healed, your super resistance slowly came back, and he just barely had enough.

  The two of us stumbled through the dimly lit streets, avoiding the sound of gunshots and the stench of death. We leaned on each other for support, the only way we could walk back to the motel. Thankfully, no one spotted us on the way back. I’d guess most people either ran or hid when the shooting started. But it was already starting to die down.

  When we lumbered into the motel, I threw Reload onto the bed. Considering his condition, he needed it more than me. While he got the bed, I slept on the floor using a spare blanket and pillow. The floor was cold and uncomfortable, the room smelled of blood and vomit, and I had the best sleep of my life.

  When I woke up the next day, the first thing I noticed was the sharp pain in my chest. Most of my injuries were healed, but my ribs needed more time to stitch themselves together. I forced myself onto my feet, my joints cracking as I stretched.

  If I was lucky, I’d be healed in a few hours. Unfortunately, Reload’s condition was a lot worse than mine. The dried blood and ragged clothes made it hard to tell, but his body was absolutely wrecked, almost everything needed to be healed.

  His breathing was the only proof I had that he was still alive. I knew that he would at least survive, Throm could bring anyone back as long as they took it before death. But it would take another day for him to be functional, likely even longer until he was able to fight.

  I tried to wake him up to no avail. After a few minutes, I decided to just let him rest. While he needed to heal, I was in a good enough condition to keep moving forward. The previous day had been brutal, yet my heart still drummed in excitement thinking about it.

  While my life was in more danger than ever before, I finally had an upper hand over the Disciples. Not only did I have a new ally, but I was able to use Surge Gang to fight for me. At the very least, they’d lost dozens of henchmen in the fighting, and hopefully one or two supers.

  The fight was more than just a small confrontation, considering Surge himself appeared. Even if the heroes generally tried to keep out of Villain Territory, they couldn’t just ignore this. So that meant Surge Gang and the Disciples had to lay low for now. And while both of them were off the playing field, I would press my advantage.

  I dragged out the duffel bag from underneath the mattress, which still wasn’t enough to wake up Reload, grabbing a thousand in ten dollar bills. The bag was already growing light, and I’d need to count just how much I had at some point. I already had way too many problems to deal with, and being broke makes all of life’s problems worse. But the sun was up and there was no point in wasting daylight.

  There were rumors about a non-affiliated super in the area, which could be a potential ally. Only issue was that I had no idea what she looked like or what her powers were, just where I could find her. While many people loved the idea of being a super, whether they were after the freedom of a villain or the fame of a hero, not everyone feels as excited.

  There was no expected age to get your powers. Whenever a super died, a random person on Earth would gain powers. This meant that there were a lot of people who already had full lives before their powers came in. For a thirty year old accountant with a family, there just wasn’t a real appeal in fighting superpowered psychopaths.

  Which meant that non-affiliated supers could be a real mixed bag. Whether it’s not wanting to pick a side, planning to live a powerless life, or some other reason, they’ve chosen not to become a true super. I just needed to find one that could be convinced to work for me.

  On my way to her job, I made a quick stop at a nearby clothing store. The doors swirled the scent of dust through the air as I pushed them open, covering the musty smell of mildew. Behind the counter was a young teen, scrolling through his phone.

  I grabbed whatever looked half decent off the racks and went to the only changing booth. My only outfit was currently stained with dried blood and vomit, alongside sporting a few bullet holes as decor. I needed a new outfit. I couldn't walk around looking like a crime scene if there were heroes in the area.

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  I ripped the tags off the new clothes as I put them on, tossing my old outfit in a garbage bin. The kid at the counter didn’t notice me as I walked up, his attention completely drawn to his phone. I never wanted to be someone who complained about kids and their phones, but it did feel a bit disrespectful. However, the quiet audio playing from the phone shut up any complaints I had.

  I could just barely make out what was playing on the phone. There was the faint sound of gunshots, dozens of them at a distance. Yet, even more important, there was the rippling surge of electricity.

  “Hey, I’m wearing these clothes out.” I dropped the tags onto the counter.

  His head snapped towards me, startled at me being here. “Huh, oh sure, dude.”

  He put away his phone and started to ring me up. I used the opportunity to talk to him. “So what were you watching?”

  “Nothing,” he muttered.

  “I’m not trying to get you in trouble, I’m just curious. It sounded entertaining, like a super fight.”

  That caught his attention. “Yeah, it is. Did you hear the fighting last night? One of my friends got a recording of it. Wanna see?”

  I smiled at him. “Of course I want to see.”

  He grabbed his phone, fumbling for a bit before pressing play. The recording was shaky, taken out of an apartment window, but it was likely the only video of the fight. There were Disciple henchmen posted up behind cars, using them as cover while members of Surge Gang shot at them.

  Car alarms cried out as bullets tore into the cars, the knock-off minions raining hell down on them. The Disciples could’ve still won the fight in this street, despite the numbers disadvantage, if they just waited for the Surge Gang henchmen to reload. The Surge Gang members were shooting from the middle of the street, exposed like a pack of morons.

  Eventually, they did stop shooting. That was when Mr. Ammer appeared on screen, strolling down the street. He wore a simple dress shirt with a sequined vest, his trademark gray ponytail flowing in the wind. It was hard to tell, but he was smiling.

  Mr. Ammer was the right hand man of Surge, alongside the only other super in Surge Gang. The two of them weren’t the biggest threats on their own, but they had a near unbeatable synergy together. If he was out there fighting, then Surge wouldn’t be far behind. Not that it mattered to the henchmen, because he was more than enough to kill them.

  One of the Disciple henchmen moved out of cover, firing his pistol at Mr. Ammer. Even in the low resolution, I could see the panic on the man’s face as each bullet bounced off of Mr. Ammer. By the time the henchman had the idea to run, it was too late.

  Mr. Ammer lunged forward, pulling him back by the hood of his jacket. The other Disciple henches finally popped up and began shooting, but it wasn’t enough. The Surge Gang members were returning fire, which left them too panicked to hit a shot on the super.

  If there was a word to describe Mr. Ammer, it would be ‘offense’. Out of the supers in the four major gangs of South Rain, he was the second weakest. His powers didn’t improve his speed or defense, and his range was limited. The hallmarks of a weak super. But if he got his hands on you, then it was over.

  Mr. Ammer placed the tip of his fingers against the man’s temple, who was screaming and thrashing in desperation. Mr. Ammer’s hand started to vibrate, becoming nothing but a blur on the screen. He pushed inwards, and the man’s head turned into a red mist, fragments of his skull sent flying.

  It didn’t take long for the Disciples to lose that fight. The henchmen who didn’t turn and run were swiftly killed, whether it was from gunshots or being gored. Even though I was a super, chills crawled through my spine seeing just how big of a gap there was between us and the ordinaries.

  “Jesus fuck, kid. That was intense,” I muttered.

  “Oh, that’s nothing compared to the actual show.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He smirked at me. “My friend was able to record some fighting between villains. I can let you see, as long as you leave a generous tip.”

  I had to admit, I was a bit impressed with the kid. He had the makings of a hustler, he even knew how to bait me. After a quick look around the store, I placed a few bills on the counter, which he happily pocketed.

  He played a new video, the one he was watching, which was recorded later in the night. The area had been damaged, showing clear signs of an earlier struggle. There were overturned cars, and the street was now riddled with potholes and fractures.

  On one side was Mr. Ammer, bloodied and panting. He stood next to what could only be described as a super soldier. Surge had a blond crew cut, with sunglasses that were redundant in the nighttime. He wore a yellow undershirt and a pair of camo combat pants. While Mr. Ammer was injured, Surge seemed to be in great condition.

  On the other side of the street was a hulking mass of rock, a lieutenant of the Disciples. Quarry could turn his skin to stone, his powers turning him into a walking tank. While he may have been an immovable object, there was still a decent chance that Surge and Mr. Ammer could have beaten him. That chance went out the window with Squirm by his side.

  Think of the sleaziest salesman you’ve ever met. Dump on a gallon of hair gel, add a shitty patchy mustache, and combine their personality with a weasel. That was the kindest way to describe Squirm. Of the four lieutenants underneath Agony, he was the one I hated the most.

  He lacked strength, intelligence, or anything that would make you a worthwhile person. What made him worthy of his role, however, was his ability. The other lieutenants were terrifying up close because of their physical strength, but he was able to make openings out of nothing. Well, as long as he could make contact with his enemies.

  The two gangs stared each other down, neither willing to make the first move. When supers fought in South Rain, it was nearly guaranteed that someone would die. Nobody wants to die, that’s one of the first things you learn in life. But that doesn’t mean you have a choice in the matter. The four of them charged towards each other.