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Near dusk, shadows stretched like reaching darkness, the heat from the summer day like molten claws to the chest, digging into the beating heart of a city under siege. Steam (and brown water) leaked from manhole covers, creating a wet fog that smelled like desperation and a complete lack of infrastructural understanding.

People scurried on the sidewalks, sweat dripping down their faces in streaks like tears, silently crying out for someone to save them from themselves. Horns honked in steel gridlocks, fists shaking angrily out the car windows. Darkened buildings loomed, towers of the rich and powerful, holding the populace in the palms of their diabolically malevolent hands. Neon lights snapped and crackled, burning against the coming dark, illuminating the faces of the damned and the forgotten. Wavy heat lines rose from cracked asphalt, a reminder of the extreme temperatures that had descended upon a city of steel and glass.

“Who will protect us?” the people wailed as they darted their gazes up toward the darkening sky in fear. “Who will be the champion we so desperately need? If only there was someone out there who could be the hero we deserve! Nay, the hero werequire.”

This was a city filled with disease, tumors growing in the bones and connective tissue, spreading with no hope for a cure. This was a city trapped in a war for its very soul, a thin sliver of light threatening to be smothered by the shadows of evil, the scales of truth and justice tipping dangerously toward chaos.

But the city was not alone. She had someone who loved her,someone who would lay down his very life to ensure her survival.

Atop a small building that had once been a yogurt shop but was now a hipster coffee lounge with logs instead of chairs becausewhat,a figure sat perched on the ledge like a stone gargoyle watching hundreds of years of history pass by in the blink of an eye. This figure shifted slightly, the white lenses on his helmet flashing as the exposed mouth twisted into a furious snarl. “This is my city,” he growled dangerously. “And I will do everything I can to protect her people.” His head jerked up at the sound of a scream in the distance. “Hark! There’s crime afoot.” The figure looked off into the distance, the light of a nearby cell tower blinking red as if to say,I am the pulse of Nova City, weak and thready. If only my light could burn forever.

“Yes,” the amazing figure breathed. “I hear you. I see you.” He rose slowly, the strong muscles of his body shifting sexily underneath the costume, a symbol of freedom and hope and justice. He breathed in deeply. “And I can smell you… but also… taste? Oh my god, what the hellisthat? Holy crap, it’severywhere.” He gagged. “It’s coating my throat. Did someone die and then their body fell in the water and now it’s a bloated mess filled with gases and ballooning organs that will soon explode in a burst of—no. Focus. Darkness has found its way into—”

“Seriously,” another voice said. “I love you, but you’ve been narrating out loud for the past fifteen minutes, and while I appreciate your creativity, we probably should get a move on before the thieves get away with all the jewels.”

The Extraordinary known as Guardian squawked as he lost his footing and fell off the ledge backward onto the roof. He landed roughly on his back, blinking up at the night sky. A moment later, the sky disappeared as a familiar face appeared above him, curls of dark hair hanging down around his face. He wore a sleek costume, black with red piping that ran up the length of his legs and torso. Across his chest, a symbol of a flame, the mark of a hero.

“Pyro Storm,” Guardian growled, voice modulated deeplythrough his cerulean-blue helmet. He pushed himself up off the ground, ignoring the helping hand reaching toward him. “I knew you’d be here.”

Seth blinked. “I should hope so. We came together. It’d be weird if I wasn’t here.”

“Would it be weird?” Guardian hissed. “Or would it be all part of your plan to get me alone so you can have your way with me?” He took a step back away from the Extraordinary. And another. And another. And then the back of his legs hit the ledge of the roof. He turned around, bending over, hands flat against the ledge as he looked back over his shoulder. “You’ve trapped me, Pyro Storm. I answered a call thinking it’d be a citizen in need of saving, but instead, it’s you. You, with your righteousness and your face looking like it does. My body is tense with pleasure and thrumming arousal.”

“Uh-huh,” Seth said, a black-and-red helmet dangling from the fingers of his left hand, the lenses dull in the low light. “You sure seem to be shaking your ass a lot for someone who’s not sure.”

“Villain!” Guardian cried. He moaned loudly, arching his back. “How dare you speak to me as if you have any right to!” He gasped dramatically, the voice modulator making it sound as if he smoked fifty cigars a day. “Don’t youdarethink of using your fire powers to burn away my costume, leaving me nude and helpless, though more than willing to participate because consent is important, even during role-play, and I don’t want you to think I don’t want this when I actually do. Also, my safe word ischarcuterie,and no, you don’t get to ask why.”

“Because you like varied meats and cheeses served to you on a cutting board?”

“Exactly.”

“Nick, you can’t just—”

He coughed.

“Nicky, you need to—”

He coughed again, this time much more forcefully to makea very serious point. He hoped Seth got it this time because it was making his throat hurt.

Seth rolled his eyes.“Guardian.”

Success! “That’s better. Thank you. Remember, we talked about this. When I’ve got the costumeandthe helmet on, I’m not Nick anymore, I’m Guardian. But if I have the costume on and the helmetoff,I’m Nick because you can see my face. Or, if I’m not wearing the costumeorthe helmet and am very, very naked, you can call me whatever you want.”

He winked over his shoulder.

And then remembered Seth couldn’t see his eyes because he was wearing his helmet.

“I just winked at you,” he said. “In case you were wondering.”

“Oh,” Seth said. “I wasn’t, but thank you for telling me. That changes everything.”

Guardian lifted the helmet off his head, the sharpness of the world around him fading. The lenses inside his helmet were strong, letting him see farther and more sharply than he could without it. He never wanted to take it off, but apparently he wasn’t allowed to wear it whenever he wanted, which was bullshit. Setting the helmet on the ledge, Nicholas Bell turned and faced his boyfriend. “It wasn’t fifteen minutes.”

“You’re right,” Seth Gray said, a quirk to his lips. “It was actually closer to twenty. I’m not sure if a hero should spend that much time narrating his plans out loud. What if there was someone listening in?”

Nick winced. He hadn’t thought of that. As per his usual, he’d been so wrapped up in being Guardian that he’d let it go to his head a little. Probably more than a little.