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By the time he rang the doorbell, it was dark outside. It’d taken him nearly an hour to get here, even though the streets were as empty as he’d ever seen them. Those people whohadbeen out were rushing, their gazes turned toward the sky as if they expected fire to rain down on them.

Nick heard the chimes echo in the house.

He waited.

Nothing.

He rang the doorbell again. And again. And again. And—

The door flew open. “One time isenough. I can’t move as fast as I—Nick?”

Bob Gray looked shocked to find who stood on his porch.

“Hello,” Nick said, mustering up all the courage he had. “I’d like to see Pyro Storm’s secret lair. Please and thank you.”

It was… disappointing.

Nick knew there were more important things to focus on right now, seeing as how his best friend who he might be in love with was fighting to the death with his ex-boyfriend, but he couldn’t help it. He was finally standing in the lair of an Extraordinary, and it wasboring.

There was exercise equipment scattered around the basement of the Gray home. A punching bag hanging from the ceiling. A chin-up bar on the doorway to the stairs.

There were scorch marks on the wall. On the ceiling. On the floor.

In the corner lay a discarded glove that looked like it was part of Pyro Storm’s costume.

And the washer and dryer.

“Wow,” Nick said. “This is probably the biggest letdown of my life.” He winced, glancing at Bob. “Sorry.”

Bob snorted. “Oh, this isn’t everything.” He walked over to a wall and pressed his hand against a panel. It lit up around his hand and a door Nick hadn’t noticed slid open. “Ta-da.”

“Oh my god,” Nick whispered, unable to believe it was finally happening. The door would open, and they’d have to slide down a pole into underground caverns where—

“Hi, Nick,” Martha said, sitting behind a desk in a small room. There was a computer monitor in front of her. Gibby sat beside her. Jazz stood next to Gibby.

And that was it.

That was it.

“Dammit,” Nick muttered. “Worst superhero secret lair reveal ever.”

Bob cuffed the back of his head. “I built that sliding door myself. Mind your manners, son. It took me six months.”

“Good to see you, Nicky,” Jazz said, reaching out to squeeze his hand as he came around the desk. “I knew you’d come. Gibby didn’t. She said you were going to be a little dick about it.”

“I didn’t say that,” Gibby said.

“Thanks, Gibby.” Nick knew she’d have his back when all was said and done.

“I thought you were going to be awhinylittle dick about it. There’s a difference.”

Fair play. “Ugh. Fine.”

She eyed him warily. “You still mad at me?”

Nick shrugged. “Maybe. But if I am, I’ll get over it. You’re my friend.”