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The media was quick to report on the news.

Thunderstorm was so distraught last night, that she'd booked a hotel and stayed there the whole night and the day after, all the while hiding her identity.

Last night was a hectic one. When the doors opened, Blaze and Thorn emerged, but they didn't even look at her as they passed by her to greet the horde of reporters that sped here after someone contacted them. Of course-they had to give insight in the situation, but from the looks of Blaze's ranting, things were only going downhill from there.

She tried to run, but another rogue van of reporters blocked her path, the vehicle ramming straight into the pavement and knocking over trash cans. She backed away, but another group of cameramen caught her on tape.

Caught in a corner, a group of reporters surrounded her, the cameras flashing and their questions being screamed, all drowned out for her, like she was underwater, experiencing everything in slow motion.

Microphones were thrust into her face, pens flying on handheld notebooks with false theories and speculations. Her mouth was wired shut, her back pressing against the brick wall, the smartphone in her hand her only sense of reality-

Zap!

She was gone, having escaped from the scene, and landed on her roof, her powers malfunctioning for the second time tonight.

* * *

Today, wrapped in the hotel's blankets and pillows, she stared at the news miserably, all videos of last night's ordeal and exclusive interviews.

"She's out of her god damn mind! Why is it so hard to understand women!?" Blaze scorned, flaming in anger in front of the camera.

"So, are you going to kick her out from the team?" a random reporter asked.

Thorn frowned, trying to compose a straight face to hide his distraught. "If she continues attacking innocents, then yes. She will have her status revoked and facing trial for crimes against humanity."

The rest of the interviews had nothing nice to say. All of them were slandering her, with the ending sequence: "If Thunderstorm really is going rogue, then the authorities will stop at nothing to apprehend him. Wait, a her? Correction: If this Thunderstorm, a woman, really is-"

She shut the TV off, but she couldn't stop herself from crying, her tears dripping onto the white sheets as she held herself tighter.

The phone that Ice had given her was on the table by her bed, untouched. Occasionally, it would vibrate, indicating that there were messages being sent. She hadn't had the energy to look. She just wanted to be alone, and all of this to blow over.

Her mentor had said not to show any weaknesses, even to herself. Now, she failed what he taught her. She didn't know how to be strong. All she could do is hide, mask everything with a permanent poker face and scowls.

It was what she had to do to be accepted by everyone. Even so, she was fighting an uphill battle that had a 90-degree slope. One wrong move and it's all over.

And she'd made the wrong move.

Thunderstorm wiped her moist eyes with her yellow sweater sleeve, which she'd snuck from her apartment before Blaze and Thorn returned. She still had to be a hero. To protect everyone.

She craned her head to the window by her bed, and she took in the scene of the pedestrians, families laughing, basking in sun in a glow of happiness.

Her heart warmed a little, as the world had something worth to protect. She stared at groups of friends, all having fun with one another, some of them her age or similar to hers. A small smile tugged at her lips, though it didn't last long.

A woman that she was following walked into the center of the road, forcing cars to halt abruptly, earning angry honks from the drivers. The woman barely looked up, and she dropped to her knees, her fist slamming into the rocky grounds.

The ground quaked, fissures spreading across the roads and pavements. People shrieked, scooping up their pets and children up and ran for their lives. Buildings shook, the ear-screeching creak of iron scaffolds bending booming through the city.

The fissures grew to an unimaginable size, with several pedestrians helplessly holding on for their dear lives, about to fall into the unknown pits.

Thunderstorm threw the blanket aside, shielded her face and ran out of the window, shattering the grass that was once the window itself. Her eyes flared bright red as her powers were activated, dashing towards the people in need. She ended up near a middle-aged woman, who was screaming for help, but acted as if Thunderstorm wasn't there.

"Grab on," she called, holding out her hand.

To her surprise, the lady scoffed at her. "I don't want your help, you bitch! I want a real hero to help me!"

"You are going to die!" Thunderstorm snapped. "Do you want help or not?"

"I said," the woman flared, as if she wasn't about to fall to her death, "I want a real hero!"

"Suit yourself."

Things weren't so smooth. The next few people she reached out for all said similar things, with each insult hitting her harder than the last. Finally, she gave up helping them and decided to deal with the main problem instead. Blaze and Thorn would get here soon enough.

She dashed through the debris, heading craning around to search for the woman in black and gold, though she was nowhere to be seen. Despite the quaking ground, Thunderstorm maneuvered herself just fine, though she almost tripped on some metal wires that poked out from the ground.

Then the earthquake stopped, forcing Thunderstorm to stop in her dash and find a new center of gravity, also nearly falling into a pit beside her. Little did she know, this was the least of her problems.

RUMBLE.

A loud ruckus stirred from within the fissures, booming from every single one individually. With each rhythm, pebbles on the ground leaped, shaking in anticipation of the upcoming climax.

RUMBLE!

A massive hand, made of a glorious combination of stone, metal, and molten lava thrust from the fissure, almost the size of two adult men. The hand slammed onto the ground it could find, and it hoisted its body in its full glory, casting a shadow onto Thunderstorm as it easily towered over her.

Dirt and stone fell from its body as it rose to its full height, the head shaped like a medieval knighted guardian. From each fissure rose its own golem, the civilians screaming for help-anyone's help but hers.

Thunderstorm took steps back, taking in the scene before her. Her body trembled in fear, millions of outcomes playing in her head, and none of them were positive.

As she was debating, the golems were stationary, as if waiting for a command. Then rose the largest, the most powerful one of them all-rising from a building; the skyscraper collapsing into debris to the ground.

On its broad, smooth metal shoulders, rode a woman. The same woman that caused all of this. Her voice was soft, but it resonated well due to the shell-shocked silence.

"Attack."

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