Heroes protect the city.

No one knew what to do when superpowers first manifested—no one even knew what to call them, and some putz came up with Noted Entities with Extraordinary Talents, abbreviated to NEXT, rather than NEET, which is a small favor—but certain people were drawn into law enforcement. To highlight those brave heroes, a media outlet grew from an online blog into a national network showcasing do-gooders battling the evil-doers in the city.

Within Chanyeol’s lifetime, Hero TV launched a reality show, pitting heroes against one another in friendly competition. Each year-long season tallies points and tracks an ever-changing ranking of the heroes. They are the best of the best, and the only advantage is a keen, complete understanding of their own limits and capabilities, but only one can be on top.

The King of Heroes.

Chanyeol’s idol is a god among heroes—Zeus.

Weighing in at 65 kilograms and standing about eyes-to-nose with Chanyeol, Zeus’s real strength lies in his pinpoint accuracy and lightning fast decision-making. He’s taken over Trident’s throne for two years, now, and he’s very close to winning for a third year in a row.

It’s a dream come true to even be considered to work alongside Zeus. Chanyeol’s NEXT ability developed somewhat late and very suddenly, as he was loading a truck with old cardboard.

Luckily, it was due to be incinerated anyway.

Unluckily, pyrokinetics can’t extinguish their flames as easily as they ignite them.

He did manage to save the truck, though. And he bought the paint to cover up the scorch marks..

For over a year, he’s trained by himself, learning his limits as well as the laws involved with being a public hero.

His calendar is numbered in a countdown until the end of September—the final week of this season of Hero TV, crowning of the King, and hype for the next season.

He’s already seen blurbs online, hinting at the unveiling of a new hero joining the ranks—

Pyre.

Of course, when he and his manager sit down with the Hero TV people, Chanyeol is most anxious about his probationary period.

“You’ll effectively be a sidekick, paired with a seasoned hero until you’ve established yourself. Trident is a brilliant mentor; he trained all of our younger heroes.”

Chanyeol smiles politely but casts anxious looks at his manager. They discussed previously—more than once—that given the opportunity, they—Chanyeol—would appreciate it if their own input was considered, when it comes to pairing Chanyeol with a mentor.

Trident is cool. He really is. He holds the record for first place wins and is a great person behind the mask, as well. Interviews with him are always laid back, if not a little awkward. His humor is unique.

But, in an ideal, dream-fulfilling world, Chanyeol will work side-by-side with Zeus.

“We were hoping Park-ssi—Pyre—could work with Zeus. He feels he will learn faster under the tutelage of the King of Heroes, whose record speaks for itself. They are also the same age and can meet on more familiar ground.”

Chanyeol tries to not vibrate in his seat as the network people look at one another, shrug, and smile.

“That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll talk with Trident about it myself; he can broach the subject with Zeus. Give him some guidance in being a teacher.”

“Thank you so much!” Chanyeol barks, bowing over the table so his nose nearly meets the surface. His manager tugs the back of his shirt. Tone it down. Yeah, he knows, but he’s excited!

Within mere days, he will be face-to-face with the biggest names in the city, if not the country, and his idol himself.

It’s hard to sleep at night. He does take an extra allergy pill at night to make himself drowsy, but he’s bouncy and energetic for his last shifts at work.

And then it’s finally October. Beginning of spooky season as well as a new season of Hero TV.

“Just wait here, okay? This is everyone’s first meeting, so Trident will let you in and introduce you.” His manager claps a hand on his arm. “Good luck. I’ll see you later.”

Chanyeol nods and bows, waiting until the man’s out of sight before starting to dance back and forth.

He’s excited. There are a lot of voices on the other side of the door, and someone’s yelling, too, but it doesn’t sound mean. He’s sure everyone’s super nice, but he’s more pumped to meet his idols.

Obviously, Trident is a big name Chanyeol wants to meet. He’s been King of Heroes for years but hasn’t been seen as much, lately. Gossip magazines and netizens have suspected he’s getting ready to retire and let the younger heroes take over. Others say he’s hiding a lack of power, which is much less likely. NEXT abilities rarely disappear.

Psyche is on loan from China and unique in that he masters two distinct powers: telekinesis and telepathy. Chanyeol’s eager to train with him; he has an idea that could work against the mind-reading.

Another Chinese hero, Supersonic, boasts great aerial speed and agility, although he’s a little klutzy with landings. When he breaks the sound barrier, it creates the afterimage of a great dragon and is a popular feature at special events and parades.

Frost keeps things cool with his ice abilities, although they’re limited when pitted against a pyrokinetic user. Like Chanyeol.

Gust, Wraith, and Clockface, the youngest heroes, share last place. They didn’t show up.

Abyss, ranking consistently second, drops to third, with his organic manipulation. As long as there’s dirt, he has a weapon and ally.

Starburst rises to second place with his disorienting light illusions. He can always be relied on to make press events more lively and seems like a fun person.

And, of course, Zeus, the current King of Heroes. The top hero. Number one.

Chanyeol’s mentor.

Can he live up to the expectations of someone so accomplished? He’s worked hard to develop his abilities, but he knows he’s lacking and very inexperienced. What if he finds a critical weakness that messes up a major arrest? What if his flames aren’t as controlled as he thinks they are, and he burns the entire city?

With such happy thoughts sitting heavy on his mind, he has to lean against the wall. They’re noisy and fight to be heard, blocking out everything else until he feels dizzy and sick.

Someone touches his arm, jerking away when he jumps upright.

It’s Trident. He’s shorter than he looks on TV but very handsome. It’s a shame he wears a mask so often. It’s pushed back from his face, now, holding his platinum hair back like a headband. His navy suit is tailored and classy, and the blue tie with a silver trident pattern is very on-brand.

“You alright, Pyre?”

He relaxes. Something about the man just makes everything feel okay, and Chanyeol manages a wobbly smile.

“It’s okay to be nervous. Take some time, if you need it.”

“No, I’m okay!” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and plants his hands more confidently on his hips. “I’m ready.”

Trident smiles and takes him gently by the elbow. “I’ll introduce you to Zeus, first. The others will probably introduce themselves, whether you want them to or not,” he adds under his breath.

The room he’s lead into is spacious and muted, following a grayscale motif with vibrant splashes of color from the photographs and posters on the walls. Behind him, the wall beside the door is nearly floor-to-ceiling with group photos that look like yearbook pictures.

He follows Trident’s lead, trying not to stare at the others milling around the room. Zeus is with Starburst, looking sour or sick about something. Trident catches his attention and waves him over.

“Zeus.” Trident claps a hand on his back. “This is Pyre, he’ll be shadowing you for the next month or so, just until he gets adjusted to the job.”

Faced with superhero royalty, Chanyeol automatically drops into a deep bow. “It’s an honor to meet you! Park Chanyeol, at your service!” Wow, he sounds like a concierge. Lame.

Trident mutters above him about another loud one, and Chanyeol feels his neck burn.

“Pleasure to meet you too, Chanyeol, although it’s generally tradition to hold off on giving away your real name until you’ve made it through the probationary period.”

. He snaps upright like a released spring, panicking silently on how to take back his introduction. “I’m sorry!”

“Woah there; I was joking. Well, sort of. It’s not that strict of a tradition. Please don’t bow again.”

Scratching his reddened neck, Chanyeol chuckles and shrugs. “Sorry, I’m just really excited to be here.”

Zeus laughs. “It’s all good. I accidentally zapped Trident when I first met him.” Trident sighs a sigh so heavy that it carries the weight of the emotions involved. “It kind of triggered a whole chain of events that ended with the power going out for the entire city, and I still managed to become King of Heroes,” Zeus chirps. “So, seriously, it’s no biggie!”

“Oh God, this was a bad idea,” Trident groans. “Okay. I’m going to leave you two to exchange contact info. Zeus,” he points to the hero with a pointer finger, “I will see you backstage. Pyre,” the finger bounces to Chanyeol, “you, too. Don’t forget you officially start next week, so please stay out of trouble until then.” It’s an unexpected plea, but Chanyeol nods enthusiastically, anyway.

Master and student watch the older hero shuffle away, joined by Supersonic and Frost, who seem to give him sympathetic pep talks.

“He’s a bit high-strung, isn’t he?” Chanyeol muses. If that’s the future of a hero, he’s almost regretting his decision.

“That’s putting it mildly. He’s been at this a long time though, so he knows his . He feels responsible for the rest of us, kind of like a surrogate big brother.”

Chanyeol laughs. “Sounds nice.” He misses his sister, suddenly. She’s always been the reliable type, determined and fearless. It’s part of what makes her a great journalist. They haven’t had many opportunities to talk, because she’s been assigned a case involving attacks on NEXT. He worries, because she doesn’t have fireballs to protect herself with, like he does. She does, however, have pepper spray, a weighted monkey fist, and an extendable truncheon that fits in her purse.

“It is.” Zeus casually looks around the room. He seems about ready to start whistling, which would really just make their silence more awkward.

“So… I guess we should exchange numbers, then?”

“Yeah, here.” Zeus passes his phone—snugly protected by a licensed phone case based on his own super suit’s design—and holds his other hand flat.

Chanyeol wakes his phone and has his thumb poised to unlock it as he sets it on Zeus’s waiting palm, but he snatches it back when he remembers what—who, rather—his lockscreen and wallpaper are.

“Was that…Kyungsoo?” Zeus asks, a slow grin curling his lips.

“Kyungsoo? Is that Abyss’ name?” This information is enough to make him less mortified at using his idol’s coworker as his background.

Zeus’s smile freezes. He blinks, as though coming out of a trance and lowers his voice. “Don’t tell him I told you that?”

As if Chanyeol would rat on his idol. “Of course. And really, thank you for all this, Zeus.”

“Kim Jongdae. And I look forward to working with you, Pyre.”

A stage manager hurries into the room and calls for everyone’s attention. It’s almost time for their big appearance.

They suit up in an adjacent locker room—no, Chanyeol does not peek at Jongdae’s locker, but he’s been a huge fan for, like, six years, at least as long as he’s been known as Zeus—and he’s only mildly anxious about dressing among the city’s heroes until he sees it’s just like when he played sports in school. Gust even snaps a towel at Abyss—Kyungsoo—and blames it on Starburst, which Kyungsoo readily believes and threatens the photokinetic hero with a dead-eyed glare and a potted cactus from his locker.

That was a little bit terrifying, but that’s just how Abyss is a lot of the time. His fansites manage to humanize him, but when he’s working, there is no room for the cute, heart-shaped smile or goofy laugh.

With a final warning, the heroes file out of the locker room and backstage, with Chanyeol bringing up the rear. He steps aside when his manager tells him to and watches from the wings as the heroes are lifted on a hydraulic platform to cheers and applause from the stadium for the final press meeting of the season.

There are monitors for stage crew to track the action, switch cameras, and adjust light and sound.

On stage, Zeus stands between Abyss and Supersonic, all waving to the cameras and crowds, although only Zeus appears to openly bask in the attention.

A massive screen behind them shows the final ranks. Psyche drops while Frost rises. Starburst jumps to second place, upsetting Abyss’ consistent silver placement with that evening’s 200 capture points.

And, no surprise at all, Zeus takes first. His image fills the screen with confetti and fireworks effects as a backdrop and brassy music proclaiming victory.

Finally, the announcer calls for Chanyeol to enter the spotlight. Literally. He can see himself on the smaller screens surrounding the room. His red and gold suit seems to glisten in the light, and he feels a swell of excitement in his chest.

“First, please let me say that it is an honor to be standing before you, sharing a stage with my own idols. I will strive to uphold the laws and fulfil all of your expectations.” He steps away from the microphone and bows. “Please put your faith in me.”

Kim Heechul, Hero TV’s regional director, saunters out to promote the next season, and the heroes leave. Chanyeol accepts his team’s congratulations and welcome with nervous laughter. He wants to talk to Zeus more, but he sees Starburst sidle past the other hero. They share a look, and Zeus notices Chanyeol.

“Nice speech out there.” He smiles warmly. “You’re a natural.”

“I thought I was gonna throw up.”

“Wraith did, before his debut.” The tall hero in question whines and falls into Gust to hide his face, who snickers. “Gust had explosive diarrhea and nearly missed his own introduction. His suit couldn’t be white after that—” He shrieks with laughter as a blast of air hits him square in the back.

“But seriously, you did really well. I could tell they liked you.”

Chanyeol rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks.”

“I’ll see you later, okay? I gotta talk to Changmin about the another sponsorship, then I’m heading home.”

“Oh, yeah. Good night.” He stays behind after changing, sitting on a bench and really just basking in disbelief that he’s here. This is the room heroes have used since before he was even born. Heroes like the five-man team Heroes on Top and female trio Sisterhood of Extraordinary Superheroes.

His daydreaming is interrupted by a pair of long legs. Gust looks down at him, holding the strap of his backpack like he’s posing for a magazine cover.

“You alright?”

“Yeah! Just...Thinking. Oh, I’m Pa—Pyre.” He bows and smiles, pleased to see Gust’s lips lift into a grin.

“Did Jongdae hyung say to use your codename? It’s not an actual rule.” He offers a hand. “I’m Oh Sehun. Gust.”

“Park Chanyeol.”

“The name thing is more for other people than us. Privacy and security reasons. Once you’re a probie, though, you’re pretty much treated like a hero. I don’t think anyone’s ever flunked out.”

“I wouldn’t tell anyone!”

“First time for anything.” Psyche curls his fingers around Sehun’s waist, earning an elbow to the gut. “Even if you did, I could just wipe your memories, so don’t worry!” He gasps sharply at an icy breeze on his neck.

“Ignore Han.” The blue glow fades from Frost’s figure, and he smiles warmly at Chanyeol. “I’m Kim Minseok. You did really well for your first appearance today. Feel free to come to any of us, if you have questions. Jongdae’s a great hero, but you’re his first student.”

“We compete on TV, but we’re still a family,” Han adds.

They mingle and chat for a while. Chanyeol decides he likes them all. They’re nice. It reminds him of when he played basketball; they each cared for their personal performance, but they relied on one another as a team to finish a game.

It’s only after he’s home and is walking his dog that Chanyeol realizes he was never told when he’s expected to show up. He’d really rather not be late for his first day, but he also doesn’t want to be that dweeb who shows up an hour earlier than necessary.

They circle the block and make it halfway down another before a bigger dog barks through its fence, spooking his little Poodle that then drags Chanyeol home by the leash looped around his wrist.

“What do you think, Toben? Should I text the manager or the mentor?” His dog is too busy digging in its blankets to pay attention.

Well, let’s think, Chanyeol tells himself. His manager is responsible for his appearances, but he is responsible for his own official appearances, starting next week. Training is just a gray area, and it’s probably best to ask the person he’ll be training with.

Jongdae had entered his name with a lightning bolt emoji between his birth and family names; it’s a subtle touch that Chanyeol wishes he’d thought of.

Spinning his chair out from beneath his desk, it strikes a leg and wakes his computer. The desktop background is a bold vector of Zeus’s uniform. Chanyeol had made it himself. He opens a game chat before hitting the green phone icon, dropping onto the chair and starting to browse what’s gone on while he was at the press event.

It rings a couple times, and Chanyeol starts rocking in his computer chair, wondering if he should hang up or wait to leave a message when the call connects.

“Hi.”

It doesn’t sound like Jongdae. “I’m...calling to talk to Kim Jongdae. Is this the wrong number?”

“No, you called the right number,” the speaker laughs. “Jongdae’s just a little…busy right now.” He hears a high moan and blushes so violently he’s afraid he’s going to melt his phone.

Oh God. They’re ing.

“I’m sorry for calling so suddenly. Uh—it’s not important. Just...tell him I called, please.”

He hums, wishes Chanyeol a good night, and hangs up.

Ears literally on fire, Chanyeol throws his phone across the room. It slides under his pillows, and he hopes they don’t absorb the sounds he’d heard over it.

He isn’t going to be able to look Jongdae in the eye ever again. He praises his great height and promises to only text from now on.

 

His manager texts him to let him know that Trident’s arranged for him and Jongdae to use the gym tomorrow morning at seven.

Always rely on your manager.

 

Predictably, Chanyeol doesn’t sleep well, tossing and turning and waking up enough times before his morning alarm to give up around six, run around the neighborhood with his dog, and debate buying coffee for everyone to ingratiate himself into the ranks of heroes.

He decides to just go for it. If anyone accuses him of -kissing, he won’t even deny it.

“Is that coffee?”

Looking behind him, he meets the bright smile of Starburst, who bounds ahead of a shuffling Jongdae. He slips around Chanyeol to open the door for the three of them, pulling Jongdae by his sleeve and laughing at his annoyed whine.

“I didn’t know what everyone drinks, so I went for plain coffee, but my pockets are full of sugar packets and creamer…” Starburst plucks two cups from the holder, passing one to Jongdae, and paws through Chanyeol’s pockets uninvited.

“I didn’t get a chance to say ‘hi’ last night, but I’m Byun Baekhyun! Starburst.” He smiles, and it’s possibly the cutest thing Chanyeol’s ever seen.

“Park Chanyeol!” He nearly bows but remembers the coffee. “Pyre.”

Baekhyun barks a laugh. “Oh, man, your fans are going to sound nuts.” Nudging Jongdae, he adds, “How much you wanna bet they’ll call themselves pyromaniacs?”

Slowly stirring a handful of packets of sugar into his coffee, Jongdae nods. “Just as bad as Han hyung’s psychos.”

“I thought they were psychics.”

Jongdae snorts. “Not with their behavior.”

Chanyeol trails behind the duo. They get along really well, which he inferred from last night’s phone call, but there’s a natural attraction that they probably don’t even notice.

“Good morning…” Wraith appears out of nowhere, walking out of a cloud of black smoke with his eyes closed.

“Jongin’s fans just sound like stalkers. His shadows.”

“What?”

“We’re talking about Chanyeol’s fanbase name.”

“He has one already?” His eyes open a little, in surprise, but he just shrugs a shoulder. “Well, he’s handsome, so.”

Technically, Chanyeol does have a fanbase. Or he used to, anyway. He was very popular in school. They didn’t have a collective name for themselves.

He himself is a proud Thunderstruck, member 61 of the first and only officially recognized Zeus fanclub.

Baekhyun opens another door and tosses his duffel bag onto a bench, knocking a pair of sneakers to the floor.

“Peace and quiet is over,” Lu Han announces. “Baekhyun’s here.”

“You’ll have plenty of peace and quiet once you retire, you old fart. Embrace your remaining youth with a pick-me-up of coffee and brisk mile shuffle.”

Chanyeol sets the coffee on a shelf bolted to the wall and unloads his pockets. Minseok, he notices, is the only one to not add anything.

Changing into track pants and T-shirts, the heroes go to different gyms. “Some are built with specific abilities in mind,” Jongdae explains, taking his time tying his sneakers. “Since I figured we’d work on physical speed and thinking, we’re going to the smaller one that’s built for me.”

Small is relative, Chanyeol thinks, after following Jongdae into an Olympic-sized stadium. The walls, ceiling, and floor are rubberized. Partitions and blockades set around the cavernous room are made of wooden pallets, metal shipping crates, rocks, and other junk.

Apparently, Jongdae’s idea of training speed is a game of rather extreme tag. He tries to electrocute Chanyeol, and Chanyeol tries to barbecue him.

Once he’s accepted that the game is no holds barred, his survival instincts kick in, and he manages to stay alive until an automated voice pipes in through invisible speakers, announcing their time is up.

The gym is effectively ruined and smells like burning tires. Jongdae smiles broadly and raises his arm for a high five that scorches both their hands.

“Great work!” he praises. “You’ve got pretty good accuracy.”

“I learned from watching you on TV,” Chanyeol admits. He lifts his arm, folding his fingers to mimic a gun, and looks over his thumb like a sight. “You direct your power with your hands. I thought I could do the same.”

“And you really did!” Jongdae wraps an arm around Chanyeol’s back, and he tries not to show how giddy he is when he puts an arm over Jongdae’s shoulders. “I think I was running around just as much as you, if not more. You’ll earn your cape and tights, yet!”

Others are already leaving when they reach the locker room. Showers are running; someone’s singing—loudly and quite well, actually.

The hairs on the back of Chanyeol’s neck stand on end, goosebumps erupting across his flesh like a tidal wave rushing to shore. He shudders and looks around, wondering what could cause such a reaction. Across the room, he meets Baekhyun’s scowl and flinches. He’d been so friendly that morning...

Oh. Chanyeol quickly removes his arm and steps a distance away from Jongdae. His idol gives him a crooked smile and asks if he smells that bad. As Chanyeol tries to come up with some excuse or explanation, tripping over his words and his own feet, when he doesn’t see the discarded towel soon enough.

Baekhyun leaves and slips through another door.

Well, that’s weird.

Minseok snorts when Chanyeol asks him about it. Jongdae had praised him again and excused himself first, citing a scheduled appearance at an electric company’s garden party.

“If it’s not super obvious, they’ve been a thing for about four or five years, now, but they don’t like to acknowledge it. Baekhyun’s a good guy, but he’s like a dog and Jongdae’s his favorite bone.” He snickers, realizing the joke. “He won’t do anything, though; his bark is worse than his bite.”

“Unless you are Jongdae, his favorite bone,” Lu Han adds, glowing blue as he uses his power to dry his hair with a towel while getting dressed.

“If he tries to mess with you, just tell one of us; we’ll set him straight.” Lu Han chokes on his tea, and it takes Minseok a moment before joining in another round of what turns into breathless laughter.

They’re like a pair of demented hyenas.

Chanyeol likes them.

 

Throughout the week, Chanyeol and Jongdae get together for more exhausting and death-defying training and a couple lunch dates with Trident to discuss their progress and get the seasoned hero’s input.

“You make your first official appearance this Monday,” he says. “We’re starting patrols, something we don’t do often. It’ll be good for you to be seen by the public, out and about. Heaven forbid you should witness any crime right away, but if you do, you’re already there. Twenty-five points and five points for being the first and second on-scene.”

“Isn’t it more fair to split the points?” Jongdae asks. Like a true hero, he’s dedicated to justice and fairness.

Trident shrugs. “If that’s what you want, discuss it with the network, but you know they would really love the drama between a mentor and disciple.” He wipes his mouth on a napkin and turns his wrist to look at his communicator. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you two, but I gotta go now.” He offers Chanyeol a smile and pats his shoulder. “Good luck, Chanyeol.”

 

Monday, Chanyeol and Jongdae are supposed to meet in the locker room. Chanyeol’s early by about thirty minutes; he wants to make a good impression on his first official day.

He’s dressed and waiting, scratching the white paint of his sponsor’s name, when Jongdae looks in and laughs. “You’re like a puppy wanting to go for a walk.”

“Sorry. I’m still nervous.”

“That’s fine. Don’t apologize. I was the same way when I first started. I remember being so embarrassed about changing with Joonmyun hyung—Trident.” Jongdae closes his eyes, wincing at the memory. He shakes his head and opens his locker to pull out his suit. “That was the year I realized I had, like, no normal underwear. Everything was print.” He’s wearing dark green trunks with orange dinosaurs, evidently more comfortable than he had been as a rookie.

That seems to be the end of the conversation. Chanyeol’s never been much of one for silence, at least not when with other people. “So,” he drawls. This may be a bad idea, but it’s literally not left his head all week, and he’s had enough. Talking about it may make the memory go away. “You and Starburst, huh?”

His idol pauses, padded underlayer of his suit halfway up one leg. “You can’t tell anyone,” he sighs and jumps, pulling the suit up to his hips.

“You don’t want people to know you’re dating?”

Jongdae shrugs into the sleeves of his suit, and it glows briefly, charged and working appropriately. “No. He’s allergic to commitment. He doesn’t want anyone to think we’re dating, and I don’t want to have to explain why we aren’t.”

Oh. So he wasn’t entirely wrong when he saw Starburst glaring at him. But what can he do to reassure him, when they’re not even technically dating? He can’t lie and say Jongdae’s not his type, because—in all honesty—if his idol made a pass at him, Chanyeol would bend over so fast he’d bruise his forehead on his knees.

“You seriously can’t tell anyone that,” Jongdae stresses. He must really be hung up on Baekhyun to look so worried.

Chanyeol nods. It’s not his story to tell, anyway.

Jongdae stuffs his feet into his boots and stands with a hop, feigning ease. “Okie doke. Sorry, you ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Great.” He bows slightly and flips his hands to the right. “Then let’s go.”

Chanyeol holds open the door to let Jongdae out first and then walks beside him. The hero laughs and reaches up to ruffle his hair, exclaiming he really is like a loyal Golden Retriever.

The buildings used by the heroes for training, conferences, and recreation are attached by an underground tunnel to a garage and laboratories that develop their gear. Chanyeol is given his very own wrist communicator by a petite woman in a white lab coat, who quickly points out the immediate features he should familiarize himself with. It’s not a complicated device, and it fits well under his sleeve without being a nuisance.

Uncovering their motorcycles in the garage, Chanyeol blushes. Side-by-side, they’re obviously similar. He’d requested some upgrades in relation to his abilities, but some of the modifications are just to make it look like the King of Heroes’ trademark motorcycle.

If he has a problem with it, Jongdae doesn’t give any indication. He straddles his bike and waits for Chanyeol, waving towards a ramp and saying they’ll head left at the top before revving his engine.

“It’s not what we usually do,” Jongdae explains over their linked communicators in their helmets, “but lately there’ve been assaults on NEXT whom the police have confirmed to be minor league heroes.”

“I’ve heard.”

“The attacks have been escalating lately, and whoever’s doing this is getting bolder, going after bigger fish. The last person they went for was a retired pro hero, Juggernaut.”

“Jesus.” He hadn’t heard about that. They must have kept it out of the media, somehow. He accelerates around a car to cruise beside Jongdae. “Do you know? Is he—did he…”

“He died, just like the last three victims.” Jongdae’s expression is cool behind his visor. “I told you, whoever’s responsible is getting bolder. Evidently, leaving NEXT in the hospital isn’t bad enough.”

Chanyeol swallows thickly, fear settling in his gut like a rock. That’s why they’re doing patrols, now. Heroes used to simply respond to emergency calls, like police and fire departments. It’s not common that heroes have been seen out and about and not on a call. “And we’re…looking for the culprit?”

Jongdae’s shoulders pull up a little and relax somewhat. “Not exactly. We’re more like…bait. The Association was freaking out so...” he stumbles a little, trying to find a way to explain in the simplest way. “Trident took things in his own hands and organized a shift schedule. He told us about it a little. Enough of us out in the streets to make sure we can maintain the peace, but not so many that we’re scattered if someone needs help.”

Their engines purr smoothly. Road noises are soothing to Chanyeol. His mom would drive him around the neighborhood to help him sleep, as a baby. On trips, he’d conk out in the backseat and sleep most of the way to his grandparents’ or the beach for vacation.

He’s not about to fall asleep as he’s driving his bike, but he’s calm and focused enough to really take in his environment. A cat hops from the cracked pavement to a garbage can to a higher wall, leaving the overturned bin on the ground. Two boys on skateboards—one’s wearing a Zeus sweatshirt; the other boy’s board looks like Clockface’s mask—maneuver around the mess and hop the curb.

Skateboards are illegal on the sidewalks, but that’s not really an infraction a pro hero needs to involve himself in. Not to mention Chanyeol takes his own skateboard on the sidewalk, too. He’s not about to be a hypocrite.

They stop at a traffic light. Jongdae’s toes keep his motorcycle upright; Chanyeol has both of his feet planted on the pavement. The passenger in the car to their left jumps excitedly in their seat and levels their phone at them; Chanyeol waves shyly, but Jongdae throws up a peace sign and waves as they take off again.

“Okay,” Chanyeol sighs shakily. “Okay. So today it’s us?” He’s not sure he likes the idea of being bait to a killer, but it’s part of his job. If it’ll keep even one citizen out of harm’s way, then he’ll put himself in front of them.

Jongdae mentions three other heroes on duty, as well as themselves. Everyone else is on standby. Is it easier or harder to be waiting, knowing a murderer is probably planning their next kill?

“Have any active heroes been attacked yet?”

“No.” A crime alert near Hongdae pop up on their radars, and they carefully cut through traffic to head towards the western end of Seoul. “But, my guess is it’s only a matter of time.”

 

Two weeks into his hero duties and new lifestyle, Chanyeol experiences the do-or-die situation that makes or breaks a hero.

 

He’s hanging out with Sehun on a shared day off. After working out for an hour, about half spent goofing off, they’re kicked out by the janitor and take their twosome to an ice cream parlor where a couple of Sehun’s friends work.

“Oh, man, I dunno if I want something tried and true, like chocolate or red bean, or something new and suspicious—oh, they’ve got a beer stracciatella! Score. I know what I’m getting. Beer cream float. How about you?”

“Mint choco.”

“Honestly? I figured you’d be a plain vanilla kinda guy…” They order, and Chanyeol tells the girl to put it on the same bill.

“If I’d known you’re paying, I’d’ve gotten something different,” Sehun mumbles, perusing the more expensive options. “I used to not like mint choco, but Kyungsoo hyung really likes it, and I just…” he shrugs, “got used to it. I like it, now.”

“That’s pretty cute,” Chanyeol comments. “Here.” He passes Sehun his cup of green ice cream and cheers at the sight of his float. “Aw yessss. This looks amazing. Sit inside or outside?”

“Outside. Less likely to be recognized.”

“Is that a problem?” Chanyeol has thought about it and doesn’t believe he’d mind the public knowing who he is. He might get called out more, even on his time off, but his job is to help people. Does a hero ever actually clock out? Can the city afford to let their heroes sleep? “I swear my face is getting a weird tan line from my mask.” Anxiously, he cleans his glasses on his T-shirt.

“Get a greater SPF lotion.” Sehun has a really nice complexion—even and pale and smooth. He’s a favorite to model for skin care brands. His hero suit even boasts the green and white logo of a popular cosmetics brand down the right sleeve.

His phone rings, and Sehun frowns. “It’s Jongin… I’m surprised he remembers my number; he never saves anyone into his contacts,” he mumbles. “Hello?”

“Sehun—help me!” Chanyeol feels his body go cold, as though plunged into ice water.

“Jongin? Where are you? What’s happening?”

“Home—” There’s static and a fizzing pop, then, “NEXT killer.”

And they hear him scream.

They look at one another, not needing Lu Han’s telepathy to understand one another and synchronize their actions. Dropping their melting treats into a trash can, they bolt down the sidewalk to where Chanyeol parked his motorcycle. He shoves a helmet against Sehun’s chest and stomps on the starter. Pedestrians shout as the front tire kicks off the ground, and they rocket into the street.

Sehun manages to hold onto Chanyeol as he contacts Kim Heechul, who wastes no time in broadcasting a mass alert to all of the heroes.

Chanyeol presses a button with his thumb and throws flame into the pipes alongside the handlebars, heating the nitrous oxide in the engine so it splits in separate elements and allows more oxygen for combustion. Sehun catches himself with a pocket of air and latches onto Chanyeol’s waist as they lunge into traffic, weaving and dodging cars at breakneck speed.

The offended honks and shouts are a mere beat and gone in an instant. He’s driving more like a maniac than a model of public behavior, but Jongin’s scream is echoing between them and begging them to hurry.

Jongin lives in a nice neighborhood with a lot of elderly residents. Men and women stand shakily among younger spectators or sit on chairs brought out for them.

A massive hole in the side of the apartment building exposes three stories.

Sehun doesn’t wait for Chanyeol to fully stop, using the momentum to fling himself into the air and propel himself into the building with a strong kick.

Chanyeol’s motorcycle stops on its front tires, and he carelessly wrenches his helmet from his head. No one pays attention to him, anyway, all eyes focused in horror and dismay at the wreckage.

“Has someone called the police?”

“Where are the heroes?” Keeping his head down, Chanyeol gently herds the crowds down the street, asking neighbors for water and blankets. They’re all still too close to the scene for comfort.

“I hope Jonginnie is alright. He went back for my Mi-cha.” A withered old woman clutches an equally wretched-looking dog, tears dropping into its fur.

Whoever is behind it, they should be in for a surprise. Jongin’s skills in teleportation are unmatched. He’s the fastest hero, covering distances instantly. Over the years, he’s become more of a strategist and even applied his ability offensively, developing several powerful spatial attacks.

He can hold his own.

But for how long?

A boom rocks the earth, and Chanyeol sees Sehun soar above the building, looking north. His hands roll into fists, and he drops, calling to Chanyeol over the communicator. “Get under the hole; I’m bringing Jongin out.”

“Is he alright?”

“...I don’t know.”

Ambulances and police cars and fire engines arrive in succession. The crowd is quickly pushed back to tape off a perimeter that paramedics ignore, jogging after Chanyeol.

Sehun holds Jongin gingerly against his chest. Chanyeol catches him beneath his armpits and waits a moment for a medic to curl their arms behind his back and lie him gently on a stretcher.

Chanyeol grabs Sehun’s arm, stopping him from following. “Who did this? Where’d he go?”

He shakes his head. “I have no idea. He’s massive and strong. Just ing yeeted himself through a solid wall and booked it.” Pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, he gestures to the distant crowd. “Don’t be seen.”

“Kinda don’t care right now,” Chanyeol mumbles, but he pulls a misshapen baseball cap from his back pocket.

Joonmyun arrives with another man and immediately approach police and paramedics respectively. Jongin is upright, on the back step of an ambulance. Sehun goes to Joonmyun while Chanyeol asks Zhang Yixing, who introduces himself as Vitality, if he can help at all.

“How well can you control your flames? I don’t want Jongin to go into shock…”

Jongin shakes his head, trying to push off their concern, but he nearly collapses in half. Yixing catches him and nods at Chanyeol, who sits behind Jongin and scoots close. He unfolds a blanket between them and wraps his arms around the young hero and hugs him, thinking heated blanket thoughts.

“Did you see anything, Pyre?” Yixing asks softly. He holds Jongin’s right hand in both of his, closing the shredded knuckles and wiping away the blood with a white rag. Why do medical people always use white, Chanyeol wonders.

He shakes his head. “We haven’t been here long. Wraith called Gust maybe ten minutes ago…”

“He evacuated the building before trying to fight on his own.” The hero of healing sighs heavily. “Brave idiot.”

“That’s me,” Jongin mumbles. He shifts in Chanyeol’s hold and settles with a sigh.

“Jongin?” Joonmyun crouches in front of him, touching his uninjured knee gingerly. “Nini, did you see their face? Did you recognize them?”

Jongin drops his gaze to his lap, looking for an answer. “I know I saw him—he was a man—but...it’s like the moment he actually touched me, he that right out of me. I don’t know, hyung. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. A surviving hero is still a hero. You live to fight another day. Everyone here is alive because of you.” He stands upright and sighs, running a hand through his hair. “We’ll have to put a guard on you, though. If we keep your recovery secret, maybe we can draw him out.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Chanyeol says.

“Me, too.” Sehun has finished telling police what he knows and sits beside Jongin. He opens a bottle of water and hands it to his friend.

Joonmyun nods and pats Yixing’s shoulder. He may be projecting, but Chanyeol thinks the hero’s eyes look a little glassy. Professionalism is ingrained in him, however, and he squares his shoulders before going to the edge of the police line, where Jongdae, Baekhyun, Lu Han, and Yifan are. They talk briefly. Chanyeol meets Jongdae’s eyes but doesn’t want to see whatever it is he feels, so he tucks his face between Jongin’s back and his shoulder.

That night, Chanyeol and Sehun stay in the hospital with Jongin, who manages to sleep soundly. They keep the TV tuned to the news, waiting for the report Joonmyun fed to the media.

“Tragedy struck one of our own, tonight. A mysterious assailant attacked Wraith, that disapparating defender, leaving him in critical condition. In response to public safety concerns, Chief of Police Jung Yunho has announced a greater police presence in neighborhoods with greater NEXT populations.”

It’s a good plan, Chanyeol muses miserably, but everyone knows it won’t do much. This killer is bold and fearless and escalating. He’s not going to target some random NEXT.

His next target won’t be someone the police will be able to help.

 

Waiting is not something people ever enjoy. For good things or bad things, the longer the wait, the greater the anxiety. The tension in the city is a stretched rubber band, and it can only hold for so long before it snaps.

 

Chanyeol and Sehun take turns staying with Jongin, who stays in the hospital both for protection and to wait for his apartment to be rebuilt. With the hero effectively not working, patrols have shuffled around a little, and Chanyeol finds himself with the hydrokinetic hero in a computer lab.

“Our data analysts have been running scenarios, trying to find a pattern with the NEXT killer’s attacks. I asked them to look for where he could be hiding, because Sehun said he’s big and ugly and obviously mean. Someone like that is noticeable and wouldn’t stay anywhere populated. This map shows heat signatures, which may not be entirely legal, but...”

“Screw that,” Chanyeol finishes. They stare at the screen as Joonmyun types, and Chanyeol grips his shoulder as he points at a red and yellow spot among the violet map.

“Holy inconspicuous warehouses, Trident! There’s maybe a guard or two constantly, but when there are no shipments coming or going, they’re pretty empty. Even when people are working, there’s plenty of places to hide.”

“Good eye,” Joonmyun says softly. He enlarges the map. One of the buildings, farther from the river, shows a big spot that could be a person for a large animal. “Either way, it doesn’t belong there. Let’s grab Baekhyun and check it out.”

Baekhyun calls shotgun, leaping over the door of the silver and blue hydrocar. The back seat is small; Chanyeol fits if he spreads his knees or sits sideways. He sits up on the back end, instead, and holds onto the roll bar. Curiously, he taps a fingertip on the pointed end of one of the tridents of the roll bar.

“Careful, Pyre. Those are sharp.”

“No kidding,” Chanyeol mutters around his finger. Checking that it’s not bleeding much, he pulls his glove back on.

Because of his seat and status, Baekhyun plays navigator and takes them in a roundabout way to the collection of warehouses that allows them to survey the area from the back. A couple leisure boats drift down the river, and a larger barge is beside the dock but deserted. Some cars are parked apart from one another. Chanyeol can see a FOR SALE sign in one of the windshields; another is resting heavily on three very flat tires.

The buildings themselves are sprawling and not spaced very far apart. Old shipping containers and overflowing dumpers lean against the walls, offering cover as they creep closer.

Their goal is a warehouse on the end. Front doors are closed, but the chain that should lock the back doors is on the ground, partly melted. There’s a gap big enough for the average person to slip through.

“That looks promising,” Baekhyun remarks. Looking up, he points to a dusty window and looks at Chanyeol. “Think you can lift me? And not drop me?”

Chanyeol crouches and ducks his head between Baekhyun’s thighs. Joonmyun keeps a hand on Baekhyun’s back to steady him, and they can only wait while he wipes the window with his sleeve and casts light into the interior.

“See anything?”

“Yeah, dust.” He shakes his head. “Lemme down. I’ll try something else.” Near the open door, he duplicates himself and sends his mirage into the building.

“You can’t see anything when you do that. What’s the point?” Joonmyun asks. He jumps as something crashes inside. A series of clunks and clangs echoes and draws closer, finally erupting from the doors in a flurry of blue and twisted metal.

Baekhyun draws back, blue fading from his eyes. “That.” He blinds the NEXT with a flash of white light, and they run from the warehouse. Points are deducted for property damage, and it also costs money. As a rookie, Chanyeol is not making much money, yet.

He fires balls of orange flame in quick succession, and they at least sting, because the NEXT shouts and slaps the spots to put out the fire.

They get their first really good look at the man. It’s a loose term, for him; the powers he’s taken in have physically mutilated his body. He’s strangely proportioned, with thick muscles and short legs that give a vague gorilla appearance, but the similarities end there. Whatever hair he had is gone, and his skin is stretched to its limit, making his movements look painful.

Chanyeol knits a larger ball of fire between his hands and hurls it overhand at the NEXT’s head.

He bats it away. A purple shield radiates from his forearm.

“Without knowing the extent of his abilities, what do we do?” Chanyeol asks, sparing a look at Joonmyun. There’s a growing list of the dead at headquarters, with addresses, employers, next of kin, and NEXT abilities, but it was too long to memorize. Who knows how much he can use of what he’s stolen? Or if there’s a time limit? They’re completely blind and unprepared.

Baekhyun snaps a photon whip to attract enemy attention. “We fight!” He dashes right as Chanyeol goes left, attempting to cage the NEXT among them and keep him contained.

Joonmyun tries to call as much water as he can, drawing from the river and forming rain clouds to dump a deluge directly onto their opponent and disorient him, if not drown him.

Unfortunately, all the wet puts a damper on Chanyeol’s powers. He pitches fireballs at Baekhyun, who bats them at the NEXT with a photon club, but it appears to have as much effect as spitballs against a tank.

Somewhere along the line, he must have taken someone’s ability to harden their flesh. And expel it in small projectiles. Chanyeol feels a sting on his cheek, beneath his mask; Joonmyun and Baekhyun have covered their heads with their arms.

Baekhyun shouts at them to shield their eyes and draws pure white light into his hands, holding it up like a mirror at the NEXT’s face. He roars and throws his arms out, clawing at nothing and just reacting like a feral animal.

He can’t use flames, but heat and water work just fine. Near volcanoes and tectonic plates, cold sea water enters deep fissures and meets magma, heating up and escaping, forming vents. Underwater hot springs.

Seawater in hydrothermal vents can reach temperatures of over 340° Celsius.

Plenty too hot for any normal human to handle.

Yet when Chanyeol heats the air until smoke rises from the pavement, the rogue NEXT forms another glowing violet barrier, blocking the scalding water. It bounces back towards them.

Even if it’s still water, it will harm Joonmyun.

Chanyeol calls every flame he can muster and drives it out to intercept the water. Red and yellow flames, shot through with a white core, rocket towards the NEXT and launches into the sky with a shrieking whistle. It explodes like a massive firework, fiery wings unfurling.

If the other heroes didn’t know they were in trouble, they do now.

Joonmyun waves off his concern, but he’s shaky on his feet and can’t seem to focus, shaking his head and blinking repeatedly.

Minseok glides onto the scene, intending to slide by and get a couple surprise attacks in, but the NEXT throws out his arm, catching his throat as his feet continue skating forward. He drops to his back and is pinned with a heavy boot on his head.

Baekhyun attempts a stealth attack, but the NEXT extends his arm like elastic, knocking the hero onto his back and picking him up by the throat.

Thunder crackles overhead, electricity jumping between the clouds. The King of Heroes has arrived.

The immediate environment glows blue and orange as Baekhyun is drained of his power. He tries to raise a hand towards Jongdae, for help or for comfort, but drops it.

A bolt of lightning shoots into the sky, scorching the ground mere centimeters from the NEXT. A warning shot.

Touching the outside of a wall outlet with dry hands has a low probability of receiving a shock—skin won't make contact with the wiring in the wall. But if your hands are wet, water can slip into the outlet, and an electric current can flow through the water and into your wet hand.

Like copper and other metals, the human body is a pretty decent conductor.

Ordinary water, which contains dissolved minerals and salts, conducts electricity, too.

Good insulators, which don't have wandering electrons, include glass, plastic, and rubber. Every hero’s uniform is made with these in mind, specifically because of electric abilities like Jongdae’s. Anyone, even not in his immediate area, may be injured by his attacks. That his civilian injury count is so low is a testament to his training and ability.

But the circumstances are all against him. Not only is everything wet, but he’s too angry to focus and make rational decisions.

Yet Chanyeol sees the change in his posture and drops over Joonmyun as the wind kicks up into a gale, throwing trash and uprooting plants. It rips the metal sheeting from the roof of the warehouse, sending it cartwheeling around them. If Chanyeol had time, he could heat it up and melt it and trap the NEXT, but time is exactly what they don’t have, and they can’t cheat, either. Clockface’s contract ended last season; he’s back home.

Another fierce gust catches his torso, and he ducks down so it rolls over him. He’s not exactly light by any means, but he clings to Joonmyun and hopes that, together, they won’t fly away and join Clockface in China.

The NEXT killer drops to a knee, freeing Minseok, who rolls away and freezes his hands to the ground to keep him from going airborne. The grip on Baekhyun seems to tighten, who weakly tries to fight out of his hold as the glow between them fades.

Electricity seems to crackle between Jongdae’s fingers, white and violent.

In a flash, everything disappears. There’s no sound. A pungent scent of charcoal and sulfur permeates the void.

And a boom shakes the earth like only God himself could cause. Chanyeol collapses on top of Joonmyun and lies there, waiting for the ground to split and swallow them—

—but it doesn’t.

The rain stops; the wind dies down; the clouds part to blue skies.

Where the NEXT mounted his final attacks is only a charred pile of inhuman remains. A bolt of lightning can reach temperatures five times that of the Sun; there was no chance of survival.

Ignoring the gruesome scene, Chanyeol sits up on his knees and checks Joonmyun. He’s breathing, but shallowly. Biting a finger of his glove, Chanyeol pulls it off and finds a pulse in the hero’s neck. It’s weak but steady. He’s exhausted.

Baekhyun has crawled from his captor to his savior and begs him to be okay. Yifan, who couldn’t get close due to the strength of the wind, touches down moments later, gaining a tired wave from Chanyeol.

Soon, sirens wail from all sides. Hero TV cameras hover nearby, recording the aftermath as first responders tend to the heroes and what’s left of the greatest threat the city ever faced.

 

In the hospital again, as a patient, this time, Chanyeol watches his sister report his stable condition on TV with a barely concealed waver to her voice.

Whoever the NEXT killer was, they’re not saying, but there are repeated assurances that the threat he had posed is now over, and they will all work together to rebuild their lives and community.

Chanyeol really doesn’t care, as long as the sick is dead.

He discharges himself and sets up camp in Joonmyun’s room with Sehun and Jongin until he wakes up.

His powers are gone. They all know it, now. He’s officially added to the inactive list and retired as a hero. To Chanyeol, he looks rather relieved when he tells them, but it could just be the swelling.

Jongdae stays under for nearly a week. Doctors are openly amazed he survived the sheer power from that final blast. Cities miles away reported seeing the light in the sky and feeling the ground tremble, worrying a bomb had dropped.

Baekhyun stays in Jongdae’s room. His injuries aren’t minor, but they’ll heal in time. He spends most of his time on a chair between Jongdae’s bed and the window, splitting his attention between them until a nurse comes to back to his own room.

He waits until she leaves and goes right back to Jongdae’s side.

When he’s well enough to walk, Joonmyun visits, as well. Chanyeol spends more time in the hospital than on duty, wired and antsy and waiting for his hero to wake up.

“Is he going to be okay?” Chanyeol asks, unsure if he should sit on the closer chair or one against the wall and ends up hovering awkwardly, twisting his hands together.

Joonmyun catches his wrist and gently pulls him to sit beside him. Close enough to watch the steady rise and fall of the exhausted hero’s chest; far enough to not potentially disturb his or Baekhyun’s much-needed sleep.

“The doctors say he needs rest, so he’s resting. Physically, he’s fine.” There’s a tightness around his eyes and mouth. Not sure what to say, Chanyeol says nothing, but Joonmyun continues. “He saved a lot of lives and stopped a very dangerous man.” He looks at Chanyeol and shakes his head. “We don’t kill people, though. No matter how bad. No matter what we feel or what the civilians feel.

“He also endangered everyone, releasing such a powerful attack. It’s pure dumb luck or divine intervention that he didn’t fry Baekhyun to a crisp, too. And with the ground as wet as it was, the lightning could’ve easily jumped to the rest of us, as well.”

“But he’s still a hero,” Chanyeol says softly.

“Yes.” Joonmyun nods and leans his head back against the wall. “He is.” He falls asleep, curling impossibly in the chair. A chiropractor will probably have to straighten him out, with Yixing still out of commission on the other bed in the room from working on Jongdae, Baekhyun, and Minseok.

Yifan ducks inside with Sehun and Jongin. The younger heroes share the lone sofa, attached at the hip since the attack on Jongin. Before going to Jongdae, Yifan checks Joonmyun, first, smiling wryly at the cramped posture.

“He always does this,” he remarks. “Then he complains…” Sitting on the floor, he leans back against the chair and watches the heart monitor.

Minseok and Lu Han knock gently before entering, not looking at all surprised by the crowd. They catch a nurse before she can chase them out, charming her like a tag-team of con artists with sweet smiles and compliments and promises to be very, very quiet.

“Why are hospitals always so cold?” Minseok mutters.

“ it up, Ice King,” Baekhyun replies without opening his eyes.

The senior heroes cluster together; Lu Han tugs Chanyeol’s fingers and pats his and Yifan’s thighs, so Chanyeol becomes a lap blanket. He hears Kyungsoo before he sees him, black sneaker nudging his elbow.

“Aren’t you a bit big for a lap dog?”

“Aren’t you a bit late for ‘I’ll be there at four’?” Kyungsoo swats his leg, and Chanyeol shuffles so the other man can sit between his knees and recline against his thighs.

They compete on TV, but they’re still a family.

And family protects their own.

 

Jongdae wakes up when everyone else is asleep. He and Baekhyun must have talked things over and made a decision, because the next time Chanyeol sees them, they’re holding hands and sharing the hospital bed, apparently trying to merge and occupy the very same space.

“Before you ask how I feel,” Jongdae says, “just know I feel like complete crap.” He smiles. “But I can still feel, so I’ll be okay.”

“Me, too,” Baekhyun adds, rocking his head gently on Jongdae’s shoulder and kissing his jaw. “If not for that flare thing you sent, we’d probably all be dead, and that nut would still be loose. You’re a real hero, Chanyeol.”

“You’ve earned your cape and tights, Pyre. We’re grateful and very proud.”

---

a/n: Written for kpop ficmix, a remix of nu-exo (Nekohime)'s In Heroes We Trust.

This is Chanyeol's POV from In Heroes We Trust, so some dialogue and happenings are the same.

I read through the original fic a couple times, but not everyone is mentioned, so I threw in some of my own names for those who weren't named, in bold:
KMS - Frost
LH - Psyche
WYF - Supersonic
KJM - Trident
ZYX - Vitality
BBH - Starburst
PCY - Pyre
KJD - Zeus
DKS - Abyss
HZT - Clockface
KJI - Wraith
OSH - Gust