My eyes follow the path he came from and see Tiptoe standing in the balcony above us. She gives me a four-finger wave like the ones you give little kids and then turns her attention to her teammate on stage. Slammer is already going at it. He is beating the fire out of the holder–MMA style. His opponent's flames are nothing against Slammer's stone armor which has completely covered his whole body.
Abe grabs my shoulder. "Come on. It is clear that Rocky has things under control. I don't have my suit with me, but we can get people to safety."
I run around gathering people and escorting them out as Abe checks in on the people who were hurt. By the time the fire department and EMS show up, Fire Hair is as out cold as a morning-after campfire and Slammer is long gone. When we see the last of the civilians out, Abe and I scoot off too.
"What happened back there? You lose your mojo?" I ask him when we make it to the end of the block.
"I don't know. The music was so loud, I couldn't get my energy going. I think it was the vibration of the sound waves. They were interfering with my body's own physiology or circadian rhythm or something."
He is so hot when he speaks nerd.
"Guess it is good that that big man showed up. Does he work with The Fleet?" A pang of guilt shoots through my insides as I play dumb.
He pauses. I can immediately tell that he knows more than I thought. He looks down and tries to start.
"Noah, I can't..."
"Talk about it. I get it." And I do. It is not the first time he couldn't give me certain details. I told him long ago that I would never hold anything against him as long as he told me what he felt was important for me to know. However, this time it doesn't sit right with me.
He gives a thankful nod and then grumbles.
I get lost briefly in my head. Rock beats fire but fire beats energy. No fire is energy, wait, sound beats energy. Wait, sound is energy, right? It was easier with paper and scissors.
"Ow," he says, leaning against a light pole and lifting what remains of his flame-grilled shirt.
My attention is back on him. The left side of his defined torso is pretty scorched. Easily second-degree burns. I instinctually touch the skin just below his chest near the burn and lean in to examine it.
"Dude, he got you good. I have some of your healing spray at my place. Let's get you home."
"Nah, I will have the medic at–"
His com chirps. It's a call from HQ. He rolls his eyes as if he brought this to fruition.
"Yeah," he answers.
My own phone's notifications go off. Headlines of a new anti-hero team pop up as people start to post videos and pictures from the concert. None of them even have Abe in them. The Fleet's tech team must have scrubbed him out of them already. They are scary good at making people digitally disappear. I try to pack the thoughts of Malware's files about my dad into a little black box and hide it in the darkest corner of the back of my mind for now.
"Okay...I figured...yes...okay. On my way," he says to dispatch, ending the call on his earpiece.
He turns to me; I don't want him to go. Going for pizza or grabbing a cup of coffee at the diner down the street would help me keep my mind off of the truth for a little longer. I'm not sure I even want to learn about my dad's passing and where Abe's team might fit into all of it. The files in my email are Schrödinger's cat and I don't know what to do. Putting on a brave face, I stop him before he can apologize.
"It's okay," I tell him. "You have to go. I know. I'm just happy you are alright. No one died. And, hey, we made it through half of the concert. That's a new record for us."
He laughs and ruffles my hair.
"Thank you," he says, suddenly looking serious.
His demeanor confuses me, and I ask, "For what?"
"I felt normal tonight. I don't feel that way very often. I can say, most of the time it's with you though." Abe pulls me in for a tight hug.
If I weren't chickenshit, I'd kiss him right now, but I am too scared I'd ruin this moment.
He holds me by my arms. "You okay getting home."
We both snicker at this customary question. We have lived in this city all of our lives, so he already knows the answer. I nod, but can't find my voice.
"It was fun, Noah," he says just as he blasts off the ground and launches into the night sky.
I look at my watch and reread the messages from Malware, my body filling with dread.
"It was."