Origin of Power

Chapter 6

I slugged back, kicking my legs over the edge of the rooftop and taking a seat. I was exhausted, short of breath and my insides felt like someone had reached in and twisted them into a knot. I had defeated one Tyrant and helped to kill another. There was little sense of satisfaction but looking down at the Nighthawks—talking too quietly for me to hear—I wondered if I had made a mistake.

My orb was close by, under the close inspection of Shifter. It was lighting up the road and none of the Nighthawks had asked me to stop, so I hadn't. Six bouncers were on the ground, all still. I hoped they were merely unconscious.

As much as I tried to avoid it, my eyes continued to fall on Dusk's limp corpse. He was upright, supported by the rubble, only his head slumped forward. His blood had stained the stones towards near his head and still flowed from his ears.

A few moments later I noticed the Nighthawks were staring at me. I gulped, remember the reason I was there. To join them. To become a part of the group that did... this?

Had I impressed them? I glanced at Dusk's corpse. Did I want to impress them?

"You alright up there?" Snapshot said, he had a slight Chinese accent.

I thought for a moment, then nodded. "I'm good," I croaked, then coughed sharply, thumping my chest. "I'm good."

"You better come down," Lightshow said. "You'll be coming with us."

I guess that means I impressed them.

I glanced back at Pocket Rocket. He was still unconscious, breathing heavily. He reminded me of Dan when he was drunk, passed out on the sofa—that did make me feel a little better. "Can we just leave Pocket Rocket up here on his own? You not worried he'll go wandering off?"

Lightshow tilted her head at Snapshot, who then shot up with a bang. I startled as he joined me, shrinking back as he landed beside me, eyeing him suspiciously. He glanced at me, then walked over to Pocket Rocket.

"Damn, you really did a number on him," he said, crouching beside Pocket Rocket and using his coat to wipe off the blood from his hands. "He won't be up for a while but he's not going to be very happy with you when he is."

I shrugged. "What do we do with him?"

"I vote we finish him off."

"No," I snapped, surprising even myself.

"Relax," Snapshot drawled, I could hear his grin. This was the first time having a conversation with someone who's face I couldn't see, it was unnerving not seeing their expression. "I was just messing."

I forced a laugh, doing my best to sound casual. "Right."

He grabbed the top of Pocket Rocket's jacket then dragged him to the edge of the rooftop. "Shifter, catch."

He lobbed Pocket Rocket off the rooftop and the man dropped like a ragdoll. My eyes widened, and my heart leapt to my throat.

"What are yo—" I stopped. Snapshot lobbed the man from the rooftop, who fell like a ragdoll into Shifter's waiting arms. She leant him against the pile of rubble beside Dusk, and I took another breath. I had a feeling Snapshot was going to be difficult to deal with.

"I told you, relax," he laughed, stepping off the rooftop. He landed on his feet, falling to one knee, not needing his power to take the fall.

"Hurry up," Lightshow said. "The TRT will be here soon and we still need to get what we're here for."

That was the Titan Response Team, an emergency service created to try and keep destruction and casualties to a minimum during Titan combat. Titans were akin to natural disasters; their job was largely about getting everyone cleared from the area and tidying up the aftermath.