1 Chapter 1: The Prodigy
A helicopter blade slices through the air inches away from his face, filling his nostrils with the smell of burning metal. He doesn't have time to process this, however, as a ball of flame unfurls in his direction.
He leap onto a neighboring rooftop and tumble around a smoldering chunk of engine. Today was supposed to be his day off, but when he saw a news chopper careening out of control above the city, he couldn't just stand by like a common pedestrian.
As he pulls clear of the wreckage, he see that the ejected pilot floats high above the rooftops from a parachute—one that is crawling with licks of flame. It won't be long before the parachute burns through and the pilot drops hundreds of stories to his death.
He jumps onto the ledge and uses his finger to trigger the zip-cord. It shoots from the top of his wrist, with a magnetized tip set to latch on to the pilot's metal seat.
His shot lands perfectly. Then, with great care, he begins to retract the zip-cord, pulling the pilot safely onto the roof beside him.
As his vision fades to black, he removes the virtual reality helmet and ends his 3D gaming experience. He blink several times to adjust to the sunlight in the room, which pours in through sleek glass windows. Then he looks across the conference table at a buttoned-up executive eyeing him.
"So, what do you think? They really ramped up the graphics, right?" she blurts out. "Oh, don't spoil the surprise—take the game home for your full report. You can collect your advance from the front desk on your way out. Thanks, as always, um…"
He's Virtuous Reality's best game tester, but this executive still doesn't know his name. He forces a smile and reminds her that he is, "Travis,"
"Right, Travis. Always a pleasure."
The executive then strides out the door—no doubt on her way to a more important meeting. So Travis walks toward the front desk alone, thinking that he'd much rather be out there saving real helicopter crashes than testing fake ones. But hey, at least it pays the bills.
Though not very well, he thinks as he accept a deposit for $100 at the front desk.
Adding this amount to his bank account brings him to a grand total of $2100, not exactly rolling in dough.
He pushes all thoughts of money from his mind as he exits into the bustling streets of Hoshi City. Nestled on America's west coast between Los Angeles and San Francisco, Hoshi City is the shining beacon of twenty-second-century progress—not to mention the city he called home for his entire life.
He step into the crowd next to a woman whose skin is covered in fishy scales, each one reflecting a different color. He suppose this might surprise some people, but not him. NYC has finance, LA has entertainment, and DC has politics, but HC has heroes—it's the Powered capital of the country.
A fact he's reminded of as a sonic boom pulses through the air. He look up to see twin blondes rocketing across the sky, a cloud of smoke left in their wake. He sighs, knowing that he belong up there with the Legends instead of down here with the masses.
These days, one out of every three people is born with Powered abilities and pretty much every one of them wants to be a hero. Especially now that Powered Heroes have eclipsed movie stars and music icons to set the standard for A-list celebrities.
He'd also love to be flying home right now, considering that he has the Power to fly. However, after one too many gruesome midair collisions, the Department for the Regulation of Powered Resources (DRPR) designated the skies for government-licensed travelers only.
"Why on earth would I take the Metro-Way when I could be careening through the air, cutting my trip to a fraction of the time?" Sure, the cost of transportation has grown insanely cheap since the Bloater Fusion Plant was constructed and the economist Marie Pristop calculated the cure for inflation. But that doesn't stop the Metro-Way from taking forever during rush hour.
Even though it would be very bad to get caught flying illegally, Travis has been soaring around HC ever since he could crawl-fly, so he knows all the best routes to keep himself hidden from view. Stepping into a deserted alley, he leaps into the air and tense his muscles to kick-start his flight Powers.
Most people think flying feels like floating, but he know it really feels more like swimming—it takes a lot of muscle control and endurance. Luckily, Travis has been training for years, the way a runner trains for a marathon, so he can fly today without much trouble. He pulled upward, feeling gravity work with him instead of against him.
Keeping close to the cover of the rooftops, he begins to weave his way home, cruising in and out of clearings with missile precision.
And when a helicopter buzzes its way through the sky above him, he can't help but smile.
Travis drops down to the street as he enters his neighborhood: HC's Eastern Fringes, which consists mostly of public housing projects, pawnshops, and liquor marts. Despite its lack of charm, the Fringes are still home, so he starts to relax as he approaches his apartment building.
A loud crunch of glass snaps his senses to attention. Half a block up he spots a body that has been thrown through the windshield of a car. A teenage boy with writhing snakes coiled around his outstretched arms stands on the sidewalk nearby.
Before Travis can even blink, the body in the windshield leaps into the sky. It's another teenage boy whose woolly knees bend backward, like a goat's.
Sh*t, he curses to himself—another animal gang fight. The Eastern Fringes are home to a large portion of the animalistic Powered population, widely known to have the most interspecies tension. There's an especially fierce feud between two local Ani-gangs, The Cloven and The Scales. Although this kind of thing is totally normal here, Travis feels like he needs to stop the fight.
As goat-boy bounds through the air, the snake-boy reacts. His arm-snakes surge forward, straightening their impossibly long bodies and clamping on to goat-boy's thighs with their teeth. Snake-boy then whips his arms back, using the snakes as levers to smash goat-boy into the pavement.
Knowing goat-boy won't be able to survive much more snake-thrashing, Travis runs toward the scene and jumps into the fray, striking hard and fast. He jumps to snake-boy so fast, he doesn't even see him coming.
In addition to his flight Powers, he also has the ability to generate and wield surges of energy.
Running at full speed, Travis jumps forward and gives himself a boost with his flight Powers. Rocketing like a bullet, he slam into snake-boy and knock him into a nearby wall.
With snake-boy diverted, Travis turns his attention back to goat-boy. He's already bounding up the street, bleating curses as he flees. Which is just as well—his only goal here was to stop the teens from killing each other, since getting involved is technically an illegal act of vigilantism.
Before any Powered individual can start a career as a professional hero, he or she must apply for a Powered Hero License. To lessen the number of applicants, the DRPR makes the process rather lengthy and expensive. Travis has completed all the paperwork and passed the Power competency tests, but he's been saving up for a while to pay the hefty application fee.
So, with goat-boy gone and snake-boy neutralized, it's time to leave before he get into any unnecessary trouble.
"They were at it for almost five minutes and no one did a thing."
Travis turn around to find a mother and her young daughter standing on the sidewalk, both looking relieved. The mother presses a tissue to the little girl's forehead, against a small cut.
"They were blocking the door to our building," the mother says. "We tried to run inside but got hit with some debris. These Ani-gang fights have been getting so much worse lately…Anyway, who do I have to thank for stopping them?"
"I'm just doing my part to keep the neighborhood safe," Travis says, shaking the mother's hand.
"Well, thank you," the mother says.
"Are you a real live Powered Hero?" the little girl whispers, gazing up at him.
"Oh, yes he is," the mother answers.
"Just get home safely," Travis says as he continue toward home, not wanting to admit that he aren't a real hero—
At least not yet.
