“I’m gonna say this as politely as I can… I’m trying to train, and your existence is not helping.” Francine flexed a palm of flame, looking directly at Gutshot.

  Hand on his stomach, Gutshot looked down at the floor, his face running red.

  “Okay. I get it. I can give you some space,” Gutshot sighed, heading away and toward Claire.

  Claire looked up from Beth, frowning slightly when Gutshot approached. Beth looked over her shoulder and made eye contact with Gutshot, then spun back to Claire.

  “Really nice talking to you!” Beth said, immediately leaving for another end of the warehouse.

  Gutshot slumped his shoulders, as he watched her leave. There was something that he wanted to talk to Beth about, but he couldn’t remember what. Something involving his dad.

  Claire continued to frown, nodding her goodbye to Beth as Gutshot stood next to her, patting his stomach confidently. Claire narrowed her eyes at him, looking around the room, then back to him.

  “Gutshot,” she acknowledged.

  “Hi, Claire! How are you doing?”

  “Who’s your father today?”

  Gutshot scrunched his face, puzzled. It seemed to be a constant topic of conversation around him. People were really eager to meet his dad. His dad was really cool, sure, but the fact they kept asking about him made him feel weird. What did they want with him?

  “Uhhh, does it matter that much to you?” Gutshot asked.

  Pursing her lips in thought, Claire raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “You know, I guess not. It probably wouldn’t matter in five minutes, anyway.”

  An odd thing to say, but it checked out to Gutshot. They always said weird things about his dad.

  “Do you want to do some training together?” Gutshot asked, hands primed on his tummy.

  “You mean you play the drums on your stomach while I stare?”

  “We could do other training, too. Like, what would Sami do?”

  “Could I punch your stomach as hard as I can and see how you react? Really test the limits of the Gutshot?”

  Gutshot took a slight step away, both hands defensive on his tummy. He would be fine, of course. Probably. But he didn’t want to hurt her hands or break fingers when they came into contact with the incredible wall that was his gut.

  “I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

  Claire scoffed and groaned slightly. “You realize that nobody else in HUE really has much respect for you because of that? It makes you seem like a coward that never puts himself out there, even to test his alleged power.”

  “I know people don’t really like me,” Gutshot mumbled.

  “And you insist on hanging out with me or Sami whenever we’re around,” Claire mentioned.

  “Because you guys never tell me to go away, even when you’re upset with me. You might be blunt and kinda mean, but never tell me to leave. I’d rather have friends that are rough and honest than people that don’t want me around,” Gutshot said sincerely.

  Claire blinked, taken aback by Gutshot’s words. Breaking eye contact, a look of shame seemed to pass her face as she looked at the floor in thought. Sighing to herself, she looked apologetic.

  “Still, I think you should put your power to the test. I mean, you haven’t been deployed. I’ve been deployed more than you, and I don’t have any real power. Might as well be a glorified lip reader.” Claire threw a hand up like she was tossing her power behind her.

  Gutshot took her point, but he still didn’t want her punching him in the stomach. Because of the pain it would cause her. Probably.

  “I just got deployed, actually,” Gutshot lied quickly.

  “Oh! Seriously?” Claire looked more enthused than skeptical.

  “Yeah, they want me to… Do an interview like Sami. Talk about HUE.”

  “That makes sense. Something easy to dip your toes into deployment,” Claire said.

  “Yeah,” Gutshot agreed, patting his stomach anxiously.

  Claire eyed him. He continued to drum lightly. She shook her head at him.

  “Did you ask me to train so that you could pass the time before deployment?”

  “Oh, uhhh…” Gutshot scratched his belly. “No, I meant after. Deployment is now.”

  Claire’s eyebrows descended. “Okay. So what are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be leaving?”

  “Right! Yeah! Thanks!”

  Gutshot stumbled his way out of the warehouse, leaving the building before anyone could ask questions. He could definitely do something productive while outside of headquarters. Maybe even save some lives if he put his stomach on the line.

  Scanning the road around HUE Headquarters, Gutshot thought the area be too close to Apex to see any real danger. He’d have to head out further into Hammerton Central, or maybe even give Indus a visit.

  Lost in thought on his stroll, Gutshot lightly drummed his belly to train his Awakening on the go. Despite his training going fantastic, he was having a hard time maintaining a smile. All his friends had been deployed on missions—even his dad, Gan Wen—but he’d been overlooked. For days, he felt like he was being left out both by members of HUE and the organization itself. What was he missing?

  Even the guy whose only power was having photographic memory had a mission today. Claire could lip read really well, but that wasn’t anything like his incredible stomach. Like Claire said, they didn’t have real powers! How could HUE continue to ignore him? He was Gutshot! Durable enough to take anything that came his way! So long as it targeted his gut.

  Probably.

  He hadn’t stress tested it. But he was pretty sure!

  Ruminating over his situation, he needed to prove himself. If he had to, he’d walk miles to find himself in a situation. Insist on a proper mission, like Sami. In fact… He might have already walked a few miles?

  Turning his head in a circle, he had no idea where he was. The alleyways looked twisted and confusing. Too much time spent on his thoughts instead of what was in front of his stomach. How lost was he?

  Staring down into the sidewalk, hands patting to an imaginary beat, Gutshot spotted something out of the corner of his eye. Something white. And were those feathers? Peering down the alleyway the mystery creature had wandered into, Gutshot followed stealthily. Half expecting to see a chicken, Gutshot caught the sight of a rummaging cat.

  The black and orange tabby cat couldn’t have been more than a year old. Its small frame looked weak, like it had spent its life scavenging for mere morsels. Gutshot’s eyes welled up a bit at the suffering of the pure innocence in front of him. Squatting down, he began snapping his fingers, hoping to get its attention.

  The cat’s ears perked up and then, trepidly, its tiny paws made for Gutshot’s direction.

  “Come here, little guy,” Gutshot said. “I won’t hurt ya. I’m Gutshot.”

  When at long last the cat stopped, it was just out of reach. Were all cats like this? Gutshot leaned over, holding out some fingers. The cat sniffed cautiously, then lowered its head. Gutshot took a couple of careful rubs over the cat’s back. Once he felt its trust, he brought his hand to the cat’s head and began gently rubbing behind its ears.

  The cat began purring, Gutshot’s hands vibrating like he was holding a massage gun.

  “That’s a good boy.” Gutshot couldn’t help but smile at the little guy. “You know, I was having a bad day, but maybe all that bad stuff was just a means for me to meet you here. Maybe it wasn’t all ‘bad’ stuff after all, huh?”

  The cat continued its purring until randomly it stopped and took a quick swipe of its claws at Gutshot’s hand.

  “Ouch!” Gutshot instinctively retracted his now-bleeding hand. “What was that for? You could have attacked my stomach instead! That wouldn’t have hurt me.”

  Probably.

  The cat began to jog away, done with whatever Gutshot could offer it.

  “Hey wait,” Gutshot called after it. “Do you have a home? I could help you get there. Is there an owner missing you? Anything to help you out?” Gutshot imagined Apex handing him a trophy once he returned this lost kitty to its rightful owner.

  The cat paused at Gutshot’s proposal, ears perked. It returned to Gutshot’s legs, rubbed up against his calves, and left cat hair all over his pants. Then it raced away and walked down the alley. When Gutshot didn’t move, it stopped to give Gutshot a chance to react, eyes watching perceptively.

  “Oh, you want me to follow?”

  The cat simply turned back toward its destination and flicked its tail forward. A signal to follow or a random cat movement. Turning his neck, Gutshot made sure he remembered the way he came from.

  “Hey, wait up!”

  Gutshot followed the cat through the maze of alleyways. None of the angles seemed to add up. Some were wide while others were tight and he couldn’t imagine people living in some of the most narrow of the buildings. Still, he continued the chase. He would get the cat home. They took so many turns he wasn’t sure he could make it back to the road by his own memory.

  “Uh, kitty cat. You gonna lead me out the same way we came in? Dad won’t be happy if I’m back after dark.”

  As if on cue, the cat stopped. Eyebrow raised, Gutshot looked at the wall in front of him. The cat pawed at it, as if expecting it to open. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was not a regular wall. A painted metal door was flush with the rest of the alleyway, blending in. Had the cat not stopped, Gutshot would never have taken notice of it.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “This your home?” Gutshot looked the door up and down, nothing more than one peephole in the build.

  Was it a peephole? It was dimly flashing red.

  The cat didn’t budge, instead waiting contently at the foot of the door.

  “Okay, I’ll knock. Hopefully, your owner is home.”

  Upon Gutshot’s first knock, the door swung open. Without hesitation, the cat bounded inside, leaving Gutshot standing alone.

  “Hey, kitty cat!” Gutshot yelled into the dark entryway. “Can you at least ask your owner to tell me the way back? I helped you get home, now you help me get home.”

  No answer. Gutshot turned around, grimacing at the long, deep pathways opening to an endless maze of directions. He was definitely stuck without a guide. But maybe there would be an easy way out.

  Contemplating his next move, Gutshot saw the shadow of what he could only describe as a monstrous beast stalking into the alleyway. The shadow had large claws, and a beak the size of his gut. The decision had been made for him.

  Steeling himself, and giving his belly a couple of rough pats for reassurance, Gutshot hastily made his way inside. “Hello? Anyone home? I’m a little lost. I brought back your cat.”

  The further he entered the building, the darker it got. Gutshot moved to the closest wall to steady himself. Confused by the emptiness of the building, he continued his way forward.

  A light shone from the room at the far end, revealing that Gutshot was in the middle of a hallway. The cat slinked further within, leaving his line of sight.

  “Sorry for coming in uninvited,” Gutshot tried to make out details in the room beyond, but couldn’t see anything of note. Silhouettes of various shapes stacked together to create confusing splotches of darkness. “I’m looking for someone important to me. I need directions home.”

  Suddenly the metal door slammed shut behind Gutshot, and he could hear a bolt lock itself in place. He didn’t dare look back, instead opting to run for the only source of light.

  Stumbling into the white room, Gutshot took in his new surroundings with mortification. Machines coexisted with every inch of the surrounding walls. Dozens of drones, their cold, hard surfaces reflecting the sterile light, suspended from the ceiling, resembling a grotesque robotic chandelier hanging silently. Apparatuses stuck out of walls and floors like bones from a graveyard. With gears clacking, automated rifles and turrets turned to lock onto Gutshot’s location, loaded with what looked like a belt of explosives. Rocket launchers?

  He stood at the center of the room, a blank white square, like an arena set up just ahead of all the traps and weapons shifting around the room.

  “Ah, so you’ve found my hideout, have you?” A voice demanded from across the room. It echoed off the mostly empty space, filling Gutshot with a sickly sensation of all-encompassing dread.

  “Uh, hideout?” Gutshot looked around in confusion. “I’m just looking for my—”

  “But now that I have you in my bunker, I have you at my mercy!” the man cried, cutting off Gutshot’s words.

  “Um, sorry, I think you’re misunderstanding, I—Whoa!” Gutshot collapsed backward as an axe flew from the ceiling and landed inches in front of him. He had instinctively sucked in his gut, sweat beading on his face.

  “Nice reflexes, but I am fully prepared for your antics. You guys at HUE are all the same. Behold the Wall of Flames!” the mystery man yelled, activating a tall line of fire at the ends of the large square Gutshot stood in.

  The burning trap blocked his exit, encasing him in a fiery hot circle. The heat and light radiated so much that it even reached in front of the owner of the lair, but not enough to get a clear look at him. It danced around his cape for a moment. A menacing grin played on his lips as shadows arced across his face.

  Just barely, Gutshot could see him wearing sophisticated black goggles under, lenses spinning like they were analyzing everything about him.

  Gutshot sweat more profusely and put on an uneasy smile. "How do you know I work for HUE?”

  “You’re wearing their dumb jacket that basically spells it out.”

  “Amazing,” Gutshot said, looking down at the massive ‘H.U.E.’ emblazoned on the front of his jacket. The man was clearly a master of deduction.

  “That, and I’m constantly doing reconnaissance on your group. You’re obviously the one they call Gutshot. Honestly, I thought they didn’t value you, but it seems I’ve completely underestimated you. They saved you for the greatest challenge in all of Hammerton.”

  “Oh… The greatest one?” Gutshot pulled at his collar as the heat intensified around him.

  “NIS! Analysis! What do we know about this so-called hero?” the owner of the hideout called to the ceiling.

  “I’ve identified him as ‘Gutshot.’ He’s never been deployed by HUE before and we therefore have insufficient data on anything further.”

  “I know that already! Come on, NIS! This is what I designed you for. Make an educated guess!”

  “You got it…”

  The flames drew slightly nearer to Gutshot, crackling as the rest of the lair waited in silence. Gutshot took tiny steps to the center of the circle, feeling like he was being slow-roasted.

  “Give him a second. He’s just running some calculations,” the man explained.

  “Oh… sure,” Gutshot coughed, his mouth dry.

  NIS chimed on. “Gutshot was born in 1879, sent to the future to stop calamities before they happen based on the knowledge he has from the past. The name Gutshot comes from the fact that he can fire nuclear missiles from his gut, but only after consuming an orange, skin and all. He’s hidden away by HUE because he’s considered the most powerful member, by far. He’s also a strong swimmer.”

  “Good work, NIS! I knew this guy was trouble. Sent from the past to stop me and my future endeavors!” He pointed a stiff arm at Gutshot.

  More sweat pooled at Gutshot's feet, then evaporated from sheer heat. “Who are you?”

  “Like you wouldn’t know the name of your assignment! But I’ll indulge you, since I have a track record of not getting the recognition I deserve. I’m Boli! Lightcrown’s arch nemesis! Well, former arch nemesis, until I killed him at the Silent Scream!”

  Gutshot had never heard of him before. But he sounded scary.

  “Well, Boli…” The flame was slowly encroaching on Gutshot’s space. “It sure looks like you have a lot of traps—”

  “Oh, funny. You’re being sarcastic, huh? This flaming death trap is nothing to you? Well, that’s fine, since I planned for the contingency in which you would wear your flame-retardant HUE jacket! I placed a minefield all around this bunker. Even the slightest misstep and you’ll be blown sky high!” Boli declared, activating a blast shield in front of himself and pulling out a gas mask to force a laugh into.

  “Okay, umm… You think my jacket is flame resistant—”

  “Oh, I see. So you don't fear the explosions, do you? Thought you could test each step with ample time? Maybe land on them with that nuclear stomach of yours? That’s why as soon as you came through the door, I started pumping this entire place with a powerful neurotoxin! In five minutes, the entire bunker will be entirely saturated by it, rendering anyone who breathes it so paralyzed that even their lungs will completely give out!”

  Gutshot stared at Boli, his eyebrows crawling together like dancing caterpillars. His eyes grew wide, and he cleared his throat.

  “Sorry, you said I only have five minutes to get out of this before you kill me?” he squeaked.

  “What, you believe I've given you more than enough time? I'd like to see you try!” Boli said haughtily. There was also a hint of nervousness in his voice, like Boli actually believed Gutshot could break through all the traps.

  “No, I was just thinking maybe I was a little… um… Hasty? Coming into the strongest villain’s home, you know?” Gutshot said, more quietly than before. “Maybe I should come back another time when it’s more convenient for you?” He was almost whispering at this point, his neck twisting rapidly as the fire wall continued closing in on him.

  It was already so tight he couldn’t take two steps in any direction. Not that he would risk movement while in the minefield.

  “I thought you might try to mock me, Gutshot!” Boli boomed.

  “No, please, I wasn’t mocki—!”

  “That’s why I brought him along!” Boli said, pointing to the ceiling above them.

  Gutshot looked up, and the horrified expression on his face became even more pronounced as he saw the tabby cat dangling in a transparent box over the blazing inferno. Yawning as it descended, the cat licked one of its paws and started rubbing its face.

  “Boli!” Gutshot coughed in a mad panic, his face red from the heat. “Please! I’m sorry I barged in! I’ll do anything! But, please keep my dad out of this! Why did you—”

  Boli turned his back to him and laughed.

  “You believed your hidden deployments would go unnoticed by me, didn’t you? Wait, did you say your dad?”

  “No, it’s not like that! They haven’t even deployed me yet! I just went for a walk! Please, let us go! I’ll do anything! I’ll join you! Please, just…” Gutshot’s eyes drooped as the neurotoxins took a chunk of his consciousness. He fell flat, his eyes on his father licking his paw. Fearless, as always. Fueled by the sight, Gutshot looked at Boli defiantly, even as his vision blurred.

  A machine gun warmed up, taking aim at Gutshot’s now-upturned belly.

  “That's right! Grovel in…” Startled, Boli looked at his cape.

  It was singed at the corner, ruining its immaculate sheen. Frowning at it, he looked disturbed, like he had just found out mold had overrun it.

  “Grovel in…” Cutting himself off again, Boli looked up at Gutshot, who was very-nearly being burned alive by the flames.

  The hero’s eyes barely remained open, focusing on Boli. The machine gun awaited firing orders.

  Boli held up the scorched area on his cape, holding it away from his face but inspecting from a distance. Moving it back and forth like he was measuring it, Boli’s eyes narrowed, and he knocked the side of his head angrily with his free hand.

  “How did you burn my cape? Or is this some kind of poison!? A decaying agent that’ll rot my clothes until it reaches me and then eats me from the inside out and only you have the antidote!?” Boli screamed in fear.

  Gutshot remained silent, barely registering Boli’s words. Boli watched with an intensely focused gaze, his goggles spinning rapidly as they searched for something in Gutshot despite his spilling consciousness.

  As his energies evaporated, Gutshot looked to the ceiling to see his dad before he was killed by the flames. Or toxins. Or a machine gun, maybe.

  His father meowed lightly.

  “I hate to admit it, but somehow you’ve outwitted me. HUE’s finest. It’s no wonder they keep you under wraps,” Boli said, shaking his cape with a mix of respect and frustration.

  Boli pointed to the ceiling. “NIS! Shut off all traps and remove the toxic gas!”

  “All the traps?” The computer voice called from the ceiling. “I thought this was going pretty well.”

  “Yes. Do it quickly, before he dies! I need to analyze the cape and find the cure myself. But in case I can’t do that in time, I need him as a lifeline to tell me the antidote,” Boli answered.

  “You got it, boss.”

  Immediately, the room returned to its original state, and with a blast of wind, returned all the natural air in the room. Boli watched his cape as it billowed.

  Gutshot took a deep gasp, groaning in the makeshift arena in the bunker.

  Tearing off his gas mask, Boli spun extravagantly to run tests.

  “I’ll get you next time, Gutshot,” Boli promised.

  “Whuh?” Gutshot coughed, eyes glazed and dry.

  “NIS, get ready to eject him to the main road as soon as I figure this out. Shift the paths too, I don’t want him back in here. And toss the cat out with him, too. It’s worthless to us now.”

  Gutshot fell back to the ground, half conscious but fully grateful. He saved his dad.

  * * *

  “After he said stuff about the neurotoxins, I pretty much passed out,” Gutshot said excitedly to his dwindling audience of other HUE recruits.

  “It doesn’t sound like you did anything. At all!” Claire ran hands over her eyebrows in frustration. “And you’re sure you don’t remember where this hideout is? The one that just so happens to house the greatest villain of the past decade? Lightcrown’s killer!”

  “The guy that started the Silent Scream,” Sami corrected with a raised shadow finger.

  “Same thing, that’s what I said! The guy’s a mass murderer!” Claire snapped.

  “Hey, don’t talk about my dad that way!” Gutshot shot back. “He’s just going through some stuff, you know? Besides, only the kitty cat truly knows the way, but he left me. I can’t believe him.”

  “You can’t recall any details?” Sami pried. “Like Boli’s face?”

  “Covered by flames.”

  “His height?”

  “The lights were too bright. Or too dark.”

  “The neighborhood or five-mile radius of his location?”

  “I walked around pretty randomly for a while. In fact, I don’t even remember how I got back here!” Gutshot chuckled, patting his stomach.

  “A couple guys dumped you out of a moped in front of the headquarters. One guy was super loud and built like a tank, and the other guy had green hair. They were both wearing black goggles. Like people from the Underground,” Francine said, looking at him suspiciously.

  “They were holding a cat too,” Claire added, looking thoughtful.

  Gutshot looked panicked. “The cat’s been kidnapped!”

  Sighing, Sami’s Shadow Hand drooped in disappointment. “Well, good that you came back safely.”

  “Did he at least take a shot at your gut?” Francine asked, looking like she wanted to hear about an Awakened battle.

  “Lucky for him, he didn’t,” Gutshot said proudly.

  Without another word, Francine immediately walked away from the conversation.

  Gutshot looked between his last two listeners bravely and smacked his belly sharply. “Because if he did, he’d be shocked! I can take anything that comes my way!”

  Probably.