November 15, 1985.
Energy Guy lay on his bunk, staring at the underside of Fire Guy's mattress. He counted the springs. One. Two. Three. He lost track around twenty and started again, doing anything he could to ignore the muffled voices slipping through the door from the training chamber.
Silver Guy and Orange Guy had been in there with Charcoal for nearly an hour.
Just Charcoal.
Energy Guy rolled onto his side, pressing his cheek into the thin pillow. The fluorescent light hummed softly overhead. Today, it sounded louder, like it was drilling right into his skull.
Fire Guy sat at the edge of his own bed, elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced together, eyes locked on the steel door. He hadn't spoken in ten minutes, barely even moved, as if he could drag Charcoal back into the room just by staring hard enough.
Energy Guy broke first.
"So," he said, his voice coming out a bit too light, "any bets on how many times the King tells him he's 'special' this time?"
Fire Guy still didn't look away from the door. "Dude," he muttered, "seriously?"
Energy Guy shrugged, even though no one was really watching him. "Just saying. We get lightning, fire, and what? Sad blond kid with nothing, and he's the one getting the private meetings. Kind of funny, right?"
"Maybe they're just trying to figure out what's wrong with him," Fire Guy said.
Wrong.
The word stuck in Energy Guy's head like a splinter. He rolled back onto his spine and stared up at the ceiling. The hum above him seemed to press in harder, heavy and constant.
From beyond the door, a faint crackle of static echoed, followed by Orange Guy's low voice. It was too soft to make out the words, but close enough to remind them exactly who was in control.
Energy Guy flexed his fingers. Tiny sparks danced between them. The lightning answered him now: familiar, restless, like an animal running back and forth in a cage under his skin. It was his. It was proof he was different.
So why didn't it feel like enough?
The door finally hissed open, and both boys looked up.
Charcoal stepped out first.
He looked the same and yet not the same. Still pale, still tense, but faint red marks lined his skin where electrodes had clearly been attached. He moved like someone who'd been poked and prodded past the point of feeling anything, his shoulders hunched as if he wanted to fold inward and disappear.
Behind him, Silver Guy walked in with his usual rigid composure. Orange Guy followed, red cape trailing behind him like a second shadow.
"Fire Guy. Energy Guy," Orange Guy said, his voice smooth and almost warm. "Good. You're awake."
Energy Guy pushed himself up a little straighter, his shoulders squaring on instinct. The electricity under his skin seemed to perk up with him, ready to be noticed.
Orange Guy didn't look at him.
His attention stayed on Charcoal.
"You held up well," Orange Guy said with a small approving nod. "Your vitals remained remarkably stable, considering."
"Considering what?" Fire Guy asked, frowning.
Orange Guy didn't answer him. He stepped closer to Charcoal instead, the tip of his staff tapping lightly against the floor.
"You remain the anomaly," he said. "Two subjects with manifested abilities, one without. And yet, your readings are the most… promising."
Charcoal's shoulders tightened. He didn't look proud. He looked like he wanted to sink straight through the tiles.
"Promising how?" Energy Guy cut in, trying, and failing to sound casual. "Because last I checked, I'm the one who can do the zip-zap thing."
He snapped his fingers. A small blue arc jumped between them.
Orange Guy's eyes flicked toward it for half a second.
Then they went back to Charcoal.
"In science," Orange Guy said, "outliers are often the most valuable data points." He rested a hand lightly on Charcoal's shoulder. The gesture was almost gentle. "Power is expected from those with abilities. What interests me is potential where there appears to be none."
Energy Guy's jaw tightened.
Potential.
Orange Guy patted Charcoal's shoulder once, then turned to Silver Guy. "Continue monitoring him closely. Schedule another deep scan for tomorrow. I want full reports on every fluctuation."
Silver Guy nodded. "Understood."
Only then did Orange Guy finally glance at the other two.
"As for you," he said, "training resumes in full tomorrow. Simulations, hazard environments, live combat projections." His gaze passed over Energy Guy and Fire Guy like he was ticking off boxes on a clipboard. "You are both progressing acceptably."
Acceptably.
Energy Guy forced a grin, baring his teeth. "Wow. Don't flatter us too much, Your Highness, you're making me blush."
Fire Guy snorted under his breath despite himself.
Orange Guy's lips twitched, not quite forming a smile. "I don't have time for flattery," he replied. "Results will be enough."
He turned away. The staff crackled once, and in a flash of orange light, he vanished. The room seemed to shrink the second he was gone.
Silver Guy lingered a moment longer, expression unreadable as always. "Rest," he said. "Tomorrow will be more demanding." His gaze settled on Charcoal. "Make sure you eat," he added quietly.
Then he left too. The door hissed shut behind him, sealing the three boys in with the hum of the fridge and the faint buzz of the lights.
Fire Guy leaned back on his hands, stretching his arms over his head. "More demanding," he muttered. "Great."
Energy Guy dropped onto his mattress again, folding his hands behind his head. "Probably just more of the same," he said. "Sparring. Excercise. Silver Guy threatening us with talking us to death if we overload the power grid." He tried to sound relaxed, trying to make it sound like a joke.
Charcoal stood in the center of the room for a moment, staring at the floor as if the tiles were suddenly neon pink.
"You good?" Fire Guy asked.
Charcoal blinked, like he'd been somewhere far away. "Yeah," he said, forcing a small, crooked smile. "I'm fine."
He sat on the bottom bunk. The thin mattress creaked beneath his weight.
Energy Guy rolled onto his side, facing the wall, eyes open. Orange Guy's voice echoed in his skull: Your readings are the most promising. Outliers are often the most valuable. The lightning under his skin buzzed in irritation, aching to be used, to prove itself, to be the thing everyone else talked about.
He shoved his hands under his pillow and squeezed his eyes shut.
Don't be that guy, he told himself. Don't be pathetic.
"I'm gonna lie down," he muttered. "Wake me up if the world ends. Or if someone dies, either one works."
"Sure thing, Sparky," Fire Guy said.
Energy Guy's eye twitched against the pillow, safely hidden from view.
Time ticked by. The room settled into a heavy quiet. Fire Guy shifted on the top bunk. Charcoal's breathing stayed slow but uneven. The fridge hummed in the corner like a backing track.
Energy Guy didn't sleep.
He layed rigid, listening to every tiny sound—the rustle of sheets, the creak of the metal frame, the faint vibration of pipes in the walls, nothing big enough to distract him, nothing loud enough to drown out his thoughts.
Eventually, Fire Guy shifted again and spoke into the dimness.
"Hey," Fire Guy said quietly. "You awake down there?"
Charcoal hesitated. "Yeah."
"Can't sleep either?"
Charcoal let out a weak huff that almost counted as a laugh. "You either, huh?"
"Too many explosions waiting to happen tomorrow," Fire Guy said.
There was a pause.
"You wanna talk?" he added. "About what they did in there?"
Charcoal took a long time to answer.
"They hooked me up to a bunch of machines," he said finally. "Made me run. Then stop. Breathe into things. Stare at lights. Needles. Again." His voice caught a little on that last word.
"Again?" Fire Guy echoed.
Charcoal swallowed. "Feels familiar," he said. "Different room. Same idea."
Above them, Energy Guy's hand curled into a fist under his pillow.
"Earlier," Fire Guy said, "you said you 'already knew.' About being given up. About your family. What did you mean? Did they give you up without issue too?"
Charcoal stared at his own hands, fingers loosely laced together. "They died," he said quietly. "My parents. When I was really little. Too little to remember them right." He drew in a shaky breath. "I know there were two of them. A mom and a dad. I know they smiled in pictures. I know someone told me they loved me. But I don't remember their voices. Not really. My mom really liked stones. Obsidian, i think."
He paused, eyes distant.
"They both got sick. Same disease. Cells breaking down, organs failing. Nobody knew why. No cure. They called it a decay." He rubbed at his forearm, as if expecting to see something spreading there. "I never got sick like they did," Charcoal said. "But no one knew if I would. Or if I could give it to other people."
Energy Guy swallowed, the movement tight and dry.
"After they died, I got put in a foster home," Charcoal continued. "Big house. Too many kids. Not enough anything." He tried for a smile, but it came out more like a wince. "They were scared of me," he said. "Scared I'd 'spread it.' They didn't ask doctors for real answers. They just… decided."
"Decided what?" Fire Guy asked quietly.
Charcoal lifted his hand, palm up, like he was offering them the answer. "To put me in a cage," he said. "Not bars. Thick glass. Bolted metal. They drilled it into the floor in this tiny room. There was a slot where they'd shove food trays through. Sometimes they forgot."
His voice flattened.
"I slept there," he said. "Woke up there. I'd hear the other kids running around, fighting, laughing. I'd press my face to the glass and watch."
Energy Guy's stomach twisted.
"They called it a 'precaution,'" Charcoal murmured. "Said I had to be kept separate. Just in case." He let the words hang between them. "Sometimes, when someone important was coming over, they'd drag me out. Scrub my face. Tell me to stand in a corner and not talk, not touch anything. Then they'd put me back." He gave a small, bitter shrug. I got really good at not touching things."
Silence settled in the room again, heavier now.
"You ever get out for good?" Fire Guy asked.
"Sort of," Charcoal said. "One day some people in suits came. They talked in the kitchen. I heard words like 'compensation' and 'waiver.' Who would've guessed i was the one they gave up, right? Nobody asked what I wanted. They just signed." He stared past the bunk, eyes unfocused. "Then there was the truck. The lab. You know the rest."
He exhaled.
Fire Guy stared down at the mattress below, remembering his own mother walking away, his little brother's face, that empty third screen in Orange Guy's lab.
"Hey," Fire Guy said softly. "Look at me."
Charcoal tilted his head back just enough to meet his eyes.
"What they did to you," Fire Guy said, "that's on them. The foster parents. The suits. The doctors who didn't bother to figure it out. They treated you like a hazard to hide, not a kid to help."
Charcoal's expression flickered.
"I get pieces of it," Fire Guy went on. "My dad walked out the second I existed. My mom worked herself into the ground for me and my brother, and then she still chose to leave. Took the money. Took the deal. Left us." He swallowed hard. "So yeah. I know what it's like to look at people who were supposed to stay and realize they didn't."
Charcoal looked away. "I wasn't even worth a question," he muttered. "Just a signature."
Fire Guy shook his head. "No," he said. "You're thinking their choices mean you're worthless. They don't. They mean they were weak."
He leaned over the edge of the bunk, one arm hanging down.
"They were scared," Fire Guy said. "Of being blamed. Of getting sick. Of losing money, status, whatever. So they stuffed all that fear into you and locked you up, and called it safety. That doesn't mean something's wrong with you. It means they couldn't handle their own fear."
Charcoal's eyes shone, but his gaze stayed steady.
"What if there is something wrong with me?" he asked quietly. "What if they were right?"
Fire Guy snorted softly. "Then why are the most powerful people on the planet dragging you across the world and poking you with a hundred machines?" he asked. "You think they do that for nothing?" He shrugged. "People don't build cages around things that don't matter. They don't sign piles of forms for someone insignificant. They don't spend hours scanning 'nobody.'" He paused. "You know what it sounds like?"
Charcoal didn't answer, but his fingers curled slightly.
"It sounds like they were terrified of how much you might matter," Fire Guy said. "So they tried to control you before you even got a chance to figure yourself out."
He extended his hand down, mirroring the way Energy Guy had reached out to him days before.
"Look," Fire Guy said. "You can keep replaying 'I ruin everything by existing' until it eats you alive…."
He held his hand steady.
"But what if it all works out?"
Charcoal blinked. "What if it all works out?" he echoed.
"Yeah," Fire Guy said. "What if you're not a disease or a curse. What if you're the one thing in this place that doesn't fit their rules, and that's exactly why you're important?"
Charcoal stared at his hand for a long second.
Slowly, he reached up and took it.
Warmth spread through his fingers.
"I'll… try," he whispered.
Fire Guy squeezed back. "That's all we've got," he said. "Trying not to let this place turn us into the monsters they already think we are."
On the middle bunk, Energy Guy finally opened his eyes.
He'd lain there, motionless, through the whole conversation. He'd listened to every word.
He stared at the wall, paint just inches from his face.
His hands burned with electricity, itching to do something—to drop down, crack a joke, pull focus, wedge himself into the center of that fragile connection instead of hovering on the edges. He wanted to be the one offering the speech, the hand, the hope.
He didn't move.
Of course, something hissed at the back of his mind. Of course they get their little trauma bond without you. Of course the 'special anomaly' gets another speech. Another hand to hold.
He pressed his knuckles into his ribs where no one could see.
Shut up, he told himself. This isn't about you.
The lightning under his skin popped once, then went quiet.
Below, Charcoal let out a soft laugh at something Fire Guy said. The sound was small, but real.
Energy Guy rolled even closer to the wall, as if he could crawl into it. He forced a faint smile that nobody could see.
"What if it all works out," he whispered.
The words felt different in his mouth now. They still tasted like hope, but underneath, something sharper had started to grow. Something that watched every time Orange Guy said Charcoal's name. Something that counted seconds of attention and stored them away, adding and adding.
He closed his eyes.
Sleep stayed far away.
Resentment didn't.
It settled in beside him, quiet and patient.
And he didn't push it away.
It was a feeling he had felt his entire life.
Envy.