Flames melted down the front door to the Steele Mill, causing an immediate panic from those in the lobby, scrambling to the secretary’s side. Inside stepped a man swirling with a tornado of fire, a manic look on his face as he laughed to himself erratically.

  Rolling his eyes, Pinn realized he recognized him. It was the same guy that attacked Cousin Connie’s wedding. Pyromaniac. But this time it looked like he had actually Awakened. The swirling fires would be near-impossible to fake without burning himself. And somehow he had fire power? Was Awakening always tied to something someone was inclined to or was it just random?

  Getting up from his seat, Pinn checked to see how conspicuous taking action would be. Men and women in expensive suits swarmed the door at the end of the hall, but he wondered where their attention would lie.

  “Open the door!” A businesswoman shook the secretary.

  “I can’t! The power’s out and all our doors can only be opened electronically!”

  “So all the people in the building are stuck in here?” Pyromaniac asked, sending a burst of flame to set a couch on fire.

  In other words, Pinn had a captive audience. There was no getting around it this time. Maybe the power outage would make it hard to track him, but the panic might sear his image in their mind. Couldn’t be helped, it was time to step in.

  Rolling up his sleeves, he stepped toward the fiery tornado of a man and prepared himself to let everyone know who he was. With a menacing growl, Pinn tried to start with something intimidating, hoping the sound of his voice would chase him away.

  “Hey, can you…”

  The moment his mouth opened, Pyromaniac put two hands together and burst enough flames to incinerate Pinn, screaming in rage. With a frown, Pinn waited patiently, the flames licking at him harmlessly, their orange glow illuminating his face as he effortlessly manipulated them. Especially now that he wouldn’t have to worry about side effects giving him away, powers were a little easier to deal with. He just needed to make sure not to break anything.

  With the flames finally easing, Pyromaniac turned his gaze to the people pinned against the far wall of the lobby, the air thick with the smell of smoke and fear. “A single moment’s hesitation to an order I give you and you’ll end up like him!”

  Pyromaniac pointed to the perfectly whole Pinn who dusted himself off lightly. No holes in his shirt this time, a nice improvement. The panicked stares from the audience turned to confusion.

  Pinn cleared his throat, abandoning the intimidating voice. “I was trying to say…”

  Another maelstrom of flame, enough to reduce an eighteen wheeler to ash blasted into his face. Pinn had to make sure the heat stayed away from the innocent victims and glass windows, lest people get injured or the building lose stability. Spinning his hands slowly, the most intense heat of the flames was contained within his hands, leaving the rest of the lobby feeling like it was being lightly touched by an overhead heater.

  When the flames dissipated, Pyromaniac was looking right at him to ensure he was gone. Pinn stared, eyes lidded in mild annoyance.

  Shaking his head, Pyromaniac took a step away. “That’s not possible!”

  “Look, I’m not—”

  Another blast of flame. This time, Pinn stepped forward and clapped his hands over Pyromaniac’s fists, cutting off the flames from their source. The flame-imbued man yelped as the heat disappeared a moment later.

  “Stop doing that,” Pinn commanded.

  “How are you pulling this off?”

  Sniffing the air, Pinn coughed lightly. The man reeked of something like gasoline. Releasing the hand, he realized that the Awakened assailant was holding a lighter in his hand. Eyebrow raised, Pinn put the idea together quickly.

  “You got a flammable gas power and need a lighter to turn it on?” Pinn asked.

  Pyromaniac stared in disbelief. Sighing, Pinn snatched the lighter from his hand. Reflexively, Pyromaniac doused Pinn in thick, noxious gas, the air smelling like he was cooking inside a propane tank. Squinting his face and gagging, Pinn stomped a foot, summoning a single blast of wind that took the air and cast it out the open hole in the building.

  “I told you to stop that,” Pinn said more forcefully.

  Face twitching, Pyromaniac looked like he was going to cry. Pinn ruined what was probably a very thorough plan involving the Steele Mill without him even getting the police called on him. How many people had he planned to kill? Did he kill anyone already?

  “How did you turn out the city’s power?” Pinn asked.

  “I didn’t. It just happened.”

  “Really? The moment you reached the front door?”

  “I thought it was destiny.”

  Disappointed, Pinn couldn’t rule out that he had inadvertently caused the blackout with a side effect. Pyromaniac took a tiny step back, and Pinn realized he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with him. From what he could tell, he stopped the threat, but was he supposed to put him in jail now? With the power out, he’d memorized enough of the city to walk there, but the police would probably be busy. Plus, could a jail cell even hold someone that could knock out a guard walking by with his kind of noxious power?

  “Are you gonna kill me?” Pyromaniac asked suddenly.

  “What are you even doing here?” Pinn asked, disappointed. “I was really busy, and the power outage is one thing, but this is ridiculous.”

  Pyromaniac looked up. “All my problems started here. I got laid off which made me so desperate that I had to start robbing stores. I didn’t want to join the Underground, so I never made decent money. And the day after I got laid off, Weldon was telling his shareholders about record profits. A few less employees to beef up his coffers. Then, after a wedding went bad, I suddenly was granted fantastic powers. Now was my chance to—”

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  “Okay, yeah, I got it,” Pinn said dismissively. “I didn’t want your life story, just the reason you were here. Like, what’s the plan? You wanna kill the poor secretary or a couple grunts to get back at him?”

  Pyromaniac looked at the ground, hands behind his back as he swayed lightly and mumbled. “I was gonna get the building.”

  “Take down a building as a point of revenge?”

  “It’s his symbol of oppressive power over Hammerton!”

  “Kill a bunch of civilians?”

  “What did they ever do for me?”

  “And this whole place is probably insured, you know? Plus, you know how involved he is in industrial projects. He would probably get paid, right to his pocket, to rebuild his own building.” Pinn pointed to the ceiling with an open palm.

  Pyromaniac continued to stare into the floor, swaying back and forth uncomfortably. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

  “I don’t know, but this is really dumb. You know Steele is out right now? You wouldn’t have even hurt him!”

  “You don’t sound like you care that much about what I’m trying to do. More like you’re upset that I didn’t plan it right,” Pyromaniac said, looking at Pinn curiously.

  Pinn realized how correct he was. But he was always someone unconventional compared to organizations like HUE. He wanted control. For things to be more straightforward and for people to understand the side effects of their actions like he did.

  “Well then at least it would make sense! I don’t get why you thought this would make sense!” Pinn rubbed under his eye in annoyance. “Except, clearly you’re insane, so I’m wasting my breath.”

  “I’m not crazy!”

  “This plan was.”

  “How am I supposed to get control of my life, then? What would you do in my situation?”

  Pinn perked up, his eyebrow rising as he considered the question. Control? That was his area of expertise. Or at least his main research subject.

  “Meet with me tomorrow at the homeless shelter in Central Hammerton. Ask for Pinn, I’m there every day. Can I trust you not to do anything dumb between now and then?”

  Pyromaniac frowned. “I’m not homeless.”

  Pinn clapped in his face and Pyromaniac flinched back. “Pay attention. I didn’t say you were homeless. I said meet me there. If you’re having money trouble or issues putting food on the table, we can help. If you need other stuff, I’ll personally help out. Are you sincere about trying to put your life back together or are you just crazy and want revenge?”

  “Can I be sane and want revenge?”

  “You’re doing a bad job making me trust you,” Pinn muttered, a flare of energy emanating from him.

  Lips trembling, Pyromaniac looked up at the building, the civilians still piled on the far side of the building, then back to Pinn. Sighing, he looked at him hopefully.

  “You’re gonna let me go?”

  “You’re gonna meet me at the shelter?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be there, I promise.”

  “I don’t trust you, so I’m going to put a tracker on you.” Pinn placed a palm on his chest and let out a small puff of energy. It was a placebo power, nothing more than a small pocket of warmth, but Pyromaniac looked horrified. The added side-effect of his hair rising helped sell it. “Do anything stupid between now and then and I’ll know.”

  Shaking his head rapidly, Pyromaniac started sweating.

  “Get out of here,” Pinn said, tilting his head to the open hole in the door.

  Scrambling, Pyromaniac tripped and ran on all fours to escape the building. Watching him run, Pinn mused over how the situation went down. He was able to take such immediate control because of his powers, not in spite of them. Just like his mother and Sami were always insisting, there might have been some use to them.

  He would literally be a pile of ash if he already had the Antiserum.

  But it still gnawed at his heart that he couldn’t truly use them without risk of things going wrong. Even when he captured the flames, all the paint in the building peeled eerily. He could get away with pretending it was done by the heat of the fire, but he knew for a fact it was his own power causing it. So the potential came with great risk. Too much for his sake.

  So long as he had the potential for another Silent Scream, the powers never sat comfortably with him. Something needed to be done, and if that meant using an Antiserum on himself… he might live with it. At the very least, he wanted the option.

  “Anyone injured?” Pinn looked back at the civilians.

  “He didn’t hurt any of us, but this guy collapsed! I thought he fainted, but he’s not getting up no matter what I try!” the secretary looked up from a businessman on the floor.

  Racing over, Pinn approached as the others backed away in fear of Pinn’s abilities. Only the secretary remained, pumping the man’s chest.

  “You try anything other than CPR?” Pinn asked.

  “It’s all the medical training I have! I don’t know what to do!”

  “Let me see.” Pinn placed a hand on him and reeled back uncomfortably.

  The image inside reminded him of the kid, Trevor, back in Magnus the Magnificent’s show. There was something metallic on the man’s heart. How did that get there? Did Pyromaniac have more than one power? He never should have let him go so soon.

  “Some weird obstruction in his heart, I’m going to try and pull it out,” Pinn said, rolling up a sleeve and focusing energy on his palm.

  “Oh! Wait!” Another businessman stepped forward, button-down shirt drenched in sweat. “He has a pacemaker! Do you think it’s acting up?”

  Pinn nodded in understanding. The EMP had turned off all electronics, including the pacemaker’s battery.

  “Stand back, I think I can restart it,” Pinn said, altering to different energies swirling in his palm, the color shifting from an angelic blue to a yellow and cyan mix.

  Something shifted behind him, side effects going off outside of his vision, but he remained focused. Wincing and silently hoping he knew what he was doing, Pinn slapped the palm into the man’s chest, sending a jolt directly into the pacemaker’s battery and simultaneously restarting the heart.

  Raising his hand, he flinched back in mortification. A deep, searing brand was etched into his chest; the flesh was raw and swollen where his hand had pressed, leaving a grotesque, discolored palm print. Looking at his hand, Pinn saw nothing out of the ordinary. Coughing, the unconscious man opened his eyes and looked down at his chest, breathing deeply. Placing a pair of fingers on his new scar, he looked up to Pinn.

  “Thank you! You saved my life, thank you!”

  Pinn waited for the other shoe to drop. Some mention of the permanent mutilation that he could have prevented if only he was smarter with his powers. The inevitable dig at the end of the good.

  Instead, the man sat up straight and hugged Pinn. “I felt my heart go funny as soon as the power went out. I thought that was it for me. You saved me, thank you.”

  Pinn felt a wetness on his shoulder. In gratitude, the man was crying. Pinn couldn’t help but smile and hug back, a sudden anxious weight leaving his shoulders.

  “I’m glad I could help. Sorry about the mark.”

  The man pulled out of the embrace and looked Pinn in the eyes. “I get to see my family again. You have nothing to be sorry about.”

  Pinn couldn’t think of anything to say. But the rumbling conflict between using the Antiserum and continuing using his powers regardless of the consequence started back up again, the man’s gratitude joining the brawl.

  If only to have a goal to work toward, Pinn really wanted to find the Antiserum.

  But once he had it, what was he supposed to do with it?