Mainstream hovered just above the warehouse roof, squinting down at the flickering light spilling from the top row of windows. Smoke drifted from the vents, and he could feel the heat from here, radiating from the corrugated sheet metal. Not scalding, but hot enough to raise his eyebrows - this wasn't a factory, there was no obvious reason for this much heat and light, and the low, rhythmic murmur coming from inside made him intensely curious.

He frowned and landed, inching closer to the windows for a look. Someone - a whole group of someones - were up to no good down there. He had scanned the area on the way in, noting the speeding car and a frantic woman who ran inside. There were a handful of other cars parked nearby, too, which gave him an indication of the numbers he could expect to find inside.

He crouched low and peered through the cracked skylight. Far below, hooded figures moved in a strange, methodical dance, casting long shadows as they shuffled around a blazing circle. From his elevated perspective it looked like a huge firepit, although he couldn't see a fuel source, and the light was blindingly bright, like looking into the sun. He'd seen enough. Whoever these people were, a group this size doing shady, synchronised secret shuffling in the dead of night rarely meant anything good.

He steeled himself and stood, taking a silent breath. He didn't know what he'd seen, but he wasn't going to wait for them to finish. He clenched his fists, feeling the subtle coil of energy as his power flared up.

"Time to crash this party," he muttered. He touched a fingertip to the skylight and called forth a flicker of power. The flash of energy vaporised the glass, along with a good portion of the roof, and he prepared to drop through the hole.

The vaporised glass and the flash of power sent a shudder through the old metal framework, which was already beginning to soften from the portal's fierce heat. With a groan, a large section of the roof gave way beneath his feet, sending twisted beams and torn panels tumbling down toward the people below. Unaffected by gravity, Mainstream hung in the air, cursing his luck.

The robed cultists scattered, cries of alarm rising as a beam smashed down. It landed close to a glowing circle on the floor, slamming into the concrete like a spear. It immediately started to melt, curving toward the orb of fire.

Mainstream was understandably surprised to encounter a floating globe of flame, but the life of a superhero often presented him with the strange and unusual, so he didn't worry overmuch as he floated into the warehouse to put a stop to it. Sparks and heat flared outward as debris rolled into the glowing circle, scattering symbols and probably screwing around with the precise geometry.

One of the robed guys was screaming "No! No, no!" He looked like a leader, his robes a bit fancier and his desperation more palpable. Most of these people were just panicking, but this guy was invested in whatever they'd been doing, clawing at his hair as the blaze flickered unevenly. The fireball was changing size now, shrinking and growing in wild, unpredictable bursts. "The circle! It's unstable!"

And then it exploded, plunging the warehouse into darkness. A wave of force blasted from the shattered circle, sending men and women sprawling across the concrete floor. The intense backwash ripped through the space, igniting anything flammable. Shelves, crates, even the cultists' robes caught fire, casting a dim hellish glow across the scene.

Mainstream jumped into action, darting through the fire-lit chaos and hauling unconscious bodies out of danger. He kicked the doors open and lay the first two casualties on the ground before making a call on his headset. "911, fire and medical please. This is Mainstream, I'm activating my emergency beacon. Warehouse fire, estimate twenty injured." He sprinted back as he spoke, patting out the flames on two more cultists before dragging them across the painted concrete floor.

He turned to go back, and saw somebody else helping, scooping up the robed figures with ease. Silhouetted against the flames, he couldn't make out many details, except to say that it was a woman. He blinked as she jogged past him, a cultists draped over each shoulder. She was tall, improbably muscular, with shocking ginger hair and a grim expression. She appeared to be dressed in scraps of leather, like a cavewoman, but more bizarrely her skin was a flat, dark grey, like stone.

A fiery tail flicked behind her as she moved, curling and snapping like a live flame. She walked carefully, picking her way through the burning wreckage, which seemed understandable since she was barefoot.

"Um?" He hesitated. Should he ask who she was, or point out that her tail was on fire? She turned to head back into the warehouse, and he realised he was just staring, so he hastily resumed his rescue effort, dragging more cultists outside by their ankles. He stole a few more surreptitious glances at the woman as they worked in silence. She didn't seem bothered by the burning building, so he presumed her flaming tail was some kind of power-related side-effect.

He couldn't work out where she'd come from, but if she had an affinity for fire, and she was helping, that was good enough. He'd never heard of a grey-skinned fire-tailed amazon, but she could have been visiting from out of town. He wondered what these idiots had been trying to do with their giant ball of flame. At least this particular disaster wouldn't be blamed on him, even though he was kinda responsible. Summoning a portal to some burning hell dimension was almost certainly not included in the rental agreement.

Something caught his eye - a glint of metal among the scattered debris. He strode over and crouched, finding a thin, twisted chain half-buried beneath some wreckage. Dangling from it was an amulet with an odd, almost unsettling design. Its shape was asymmetrical, jagged lines forming a lopsided oval, and an orange stone was embedded off-centre, casting an eerie glow in the dim light. Mainstream frowned as he held it up to examine, sensing an unnatural warmth from the stone. The amulet was almost certainly tied to the ritual; its presence here felt intentional, significant. With a final, wary glance at it, he tucked it into a pouch on his belt, saving it for a closer look when he had more privacy.

He heard sirens in the distance, and glanced around for the woman, but she was gone. All the cultists were out of danger, so she probably slipped away into the night, and that was fine - not all heroes were social and friendly.

He hovered in the air and kept an eye on the coughing, groaning casualties, only then noticing that some of those guys were missing, too. There was no sign of the leader guy in the black robe, and there was another gap in the line where he'd laid them out, so at least two cultists had escaped. He'd have to put out word and see if anybody knew who they were.

Within minutes he was surrounded by cops, medical teams and fire crews. He gave his statement to the detective in charge - Lieutenant Hargrove was not pleased to see him, even after he explained what he'd seen.

"I just knew this was going to be your handiwork. Don't ask me how, I just knew."

"Hey, I didn't summon a giant floating ball of fire, indoors. I was just in the area and I smelled smoke. Patrolling, you know? If something's hinky, I check it out. I'm helpful."

"Why's it always you when things get wrecked?"

"That thing at the bank wasn't me, it was like that when I got there."

Hargrove waved a hand. "The bank's insured, this place probably is, too. These two that got away, did you get a good look at them?"

"Not really. They wore robes, with embroidered flames, and now they've got actual burns. The guy had dark hair, kind of a thin face. The woman? short hair, I think, black, like one of those pageboy cuts? She looked like she was mean, even asleep, that's all I remember. Maybe the other cape can tell you more."

"Other cape? I thought you came here alone?"

"Yeah, but when I was rescuing these guys I had help, a big woman. Grey skin, ginger hair. Wearing?" he gestured loosely at his chest and crotch, "not much. Rags, I guess you'd say. A loincloth, sorta getup."

"Grey skin, ginger hair, rags. Anything else?"

"She had a tail."

"Right."

"And it was on fire."

= = =

Mainstream extracted himself from that encounter with as much dignity as he could muster, then made his way across town to meet up with his good friend Sam. He slipped through his friend's secret garage entrance, pulling down his mask and grabbing a spare boiler suit Sam kept on hand for visitors. Suitably disguised, he wandered into the workshop, taking a moment to appreciate the comforting hum of tools and the familiar scent of oil and metal.

He cleared his throat.

Sam Brooks, otherwise known as the Steel Sentinel, was in his element, focused intently on one of his prized restoration projects. Tonight, it was the 1969 Dodge Charger, though Mainstream knew it could just as easily have been the 1986 Toyota Land Cruiser parked alongside, both cars frozen in various stages of careful repair. The Charger was stripped down to its core, its engine glistening with a fresh coat of grease and chrome that caught the dim light in a shine that only Sam's meticulous hands could produce. Sam's perfectionist streak meant each car would likely never be "done"; any time one issue was resolved, he'd inevitably find something else to refine or adjust.

Noticing his friend, Sam put down his wrench and grabbed a greasy rag to wipe his hands. "Evening, Ty. Beer's in the fridge."

Mainstream, better known as Tyler to his friends, grinned and pulled the cap off a cold bottle. "You're a lifesaver, Sam."

Sam chuckled. "We both are, man, that's what we do." He gave Ty a once-over, raising an eyebrow. "But why do you smell like a campfire?"

Ty shrugged, taking a swig. "Oh, just the usual crazies. This lot created a 'magic fireball' in a condemned warehouse, then set the place alight while they were still inside."

Sam winced. "They make it out okay?"

"Yeah, no fatalities. Just a few singes."

Sam shook his head. "Unreal. I heard something about that force-field guy, though?"

Ty brightened. "Doctor Bubbles? Yeah, some out-of-town science loon. Apparently, two local heroes had been chasing him down and decided to call in backup."

Sam smirked. "See? Told you those contact cards would be worth it."

After realising his power wasn't exactly fit for run-of-the-mill rescues, Ty had started using a network of contacts he'd cultivated with heroes in other cities. Whenever there was something particularly tough?giant robots, unstoppable foes, or situations that needed a lot of firepower?Mainstream was on call. Doctor Bubbles' latest machine had put two local heroes at their wits' end, so they'd passed on a tip to lure the villain into Chicago, knowing Ty could handle his tech.

"They lost track of the guy for a while," Ty continued, "so he ended up demolishing the front of a bank before they tracked him down and called me in. Say what you like about mad scientists, he took one look at me and surrendered. Maybe he really was a genius."

Sam laughed. "So you didn't even get to fire a shot?"

"Oh, I did. I asked if he'd let me test his machine, for science. I think he knew I was going to wreck it, but he seemed keen. It was pretty tough, I guess. Not a challenge, particularly, but those two heroes could have beaten on it all day without doing a thing." Ty raised his bottle in a mock toast. "If they'd just given me the call sooner, I could've saved a lot of brickwork."

Sam clapped him on the shoulder, already reaching for his wrench. "Glad to see you're making an impression - one building at a time."

"Feels good to actually save the day for a change instead of getting blamed for the usual wholesale destruction," Ty said, leaning back against the workbench. "Speaking of which, that brings me to the warehouse fire."

Sam's eyebrows lifted with interest. "Yeah?"

"Met someone new tonight. A real force of nature. She looked? almost like a cavewoman. Grey skin, like actually grey, not sickly. Wild ginger hair, like a mane, and she had a tail." He paused. "It looked like it was made of fire."

Sam whistled, putting down his rag. "Made of fire? Like, actually made of flames, or just on fire? Are we talking a real tail or some kind of magical projection? Something else?"

Ty shook his head, shrugging. "I don't know, I didn't get a good look. We were too busy pulling out survivors. She showed up out of nowhere while I was dragging people into the parking lot. She had this fierce look, almost feral. For a split second, I wasn't sure if she was friend or foe. But then she grabbed the nearest casualties and hustled them to safety, same as I was doing."

"Any chance you caught her name?" Sam asked, intrigued.

Ty gave a half-smile. "Honestly, I was too busy trying to figure out what I was looking at, and she wasn't exactly stopping to chat. The second everyone was clear, she vanished without a word."

Sam nodded thoughtfully, scratching his chin. "Well, sounds like someone worth knowing. Heroes come in all shapes and sizes, right?"

Ty took another sip of his beer. "Yeah. But something tells me she's not the type to stick around for applause."

Sam grunted - he himself was never much for idle conversation with strangers. His costume, once high-carbon steel, was now a matte-grey tungsten shell that he could shape with a thought, molding it over his body with astonishing fluidity. Heavy, strong and resilient, it usually sat as a thick slab in the back of his truck, but when he wore it, the shadowy bulk added to his already intimidating presence. The press never took to the look, and one too many snide remarks had nearly driven the Steel Sentinel into retirement.

"Speaking of applause, if you spill beer on my tools again, no jury will convict me." He fixed Ty with a dark look. "Aside from anything else, it's a waste of beer."

"It was an accident! I wiped everything down, didn't I? And I apologised." Ty ran a hand through his chestnut hair, and sniffed. He really did smell like a bonfire. "Tell you what, I'll bring you a crate next time I come over."

Sam nodded, approving. "That's a proper apology."

= = =

Back in his costume, Mainstream flew westward, heading toward his house in Oak Park. He kept his eyes on the ground as he went, making one last patrol, but after the night he'd had, he didn't expect to find anything of interest. There was only so much weirdness to go around, after all.

The last thing he expected was a female voice, practically in his ear. "You're up late."

He stopped mid-air, startled, and pivoted to face the newcomer. "Radiance," he greeted, wariness evident in his tone.

"Mainstream." She hovered just a few feet away, like a celestial goddess. Her platinum-blonde hair glowed in the night sky. Her white costume was a striking white, accentuated with golden boots and gloves, each threaded with reflective panels that caught and refracted the city lights into a dizzying kaleidoscope of tiny stars. Her short cape was a shimmering, illuminated weave, looking like pure starlight.

She was beautiful, figuratively and literally dazzling, and her white domino mask did nothing to hide it. A surge of discontent welled up in Mainstream's chest, and he took a breath to steady himself. "I warned you against flying at night, Ray. Lit up like that, you're a really easy target,."

Radiance shrugged, unconcerned."I don't usually go this slow, 'Stream, I was just swinging by to check up on you. You're still patrolling, but I haven't seen you in weeks." She frowned, but her voice softened as she added, "It really feels like you've been avoiding me."

Ty winced - she wasn't wrong. "Can you blame me, Ray? There's nothing else to talk about. You've moved on, I need to do the same."

Radiance frowned, crossing her arms with a look somewhere between frustration and regret.

"Don't be like that. We're still heroes, protecting the same city. We can still work together."

Ty's jaw clenched. "Work together? We were a team, Angela. More than a team. You ended it. What do you want from me now?"

Her gaze softened, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through her polished exterior. "I just? I just want to know that you're okay." She paused, weighing her words. "We? we can still be friends even if it's different."

Ty hesitated, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the streets below. "Where's Volt?" The question slipped out unbidden, and his tone was sharper than he had intended, more accusatory than he wanted. He didn't know much about Angela's new partner, but he knew enough to resent the man.

She tensed, her expression briefly guarded. "He's? around. He's still learning the area," she said, her tone defensive. "He's got his own strengths. Not everybody can fly."

"Right," Ty replied, the word heavy. "So long as he can keep up, and be there waiting for you when you need him."

Angela looked away for a moment, hiding a brief flash of pain. "It's not like that, Ty. It's just different."

Mainstream's shoulders sagged as he looked away. Words knotted in his throat - there was so much he wanted to say, but none of it would make a difference. There was too much resentment and pain. He'd been jealous that she could use her laser powers in battle while he had to wade in with fists and feet, she was envious that he could obliterate an ocean liner. He wanted her control and she wanted his power, but try as they might they couldn't learn anything from each other? except resentment and bitterness.

After a moment, he glanced back, his voice quieter. "It's fine. I'm fine. I saved people today. Nobody died. We do the job."

The silence stretched between them, filled with words unsaid. Finally she gave him a faint, almost apologetic smile. "Just take care of yourself, okay? I mean that."

Ty nodded, though his eyes were guarded. "You too, Ray."

With a lingering look, she vanished into the night, a soft glow trailing her form as she flew off at incredible speed. Mainstream remained suspended in the air for a moment, feeling the weight of the night settle back over him like a cloak before he resumed his westward flight, alone once more.

He silently berated himself - he should have asked Ray about the grey warrior woman. Damn it.

Chapters...