Ground Zero

[Joao Rodrigues]

Joao breathed deeply and counted to ten. He didn't know what he was feeling so short tempered lately, just that everything kept getting under his skin. He had spent years cultivating the cool that Zhaim had.

He smiled, in spite of he now ebbing anger. Zhaim had been his best friend when he was young. When Jimmy was busy setting up and growing the Cats, Zhaim, his second, kept tabs on "Little Jonny." At first, Zhaim was resentful, but eventually, the trusting eight year old grew on him. That was the first thing that Zhaim had taught him: how to tell the difference between a face and a front. If someone was facing, he knew they had something to hide. If they had something to hide, they couldn't be trusted. Joao always took that one step further, trying to find the front under the face. Joao often found that people were hiding from themselves, from their own fear, rather than being deceitful.

Joao had spent the better part of the day trying to clean up from the water leak at the restaurant. It wasn't a restaurant anymore, but nobody had been in the building for at least a year, so Joao had popped the lock and let Hermando and his son Estiban move in. Better than under the bridge. Of course, Joao was planning on making this place like his haunt back home. Casey had converted the gas stove left behind into a propane stove, so it could be used. Already, Estiban had been using it to cook hot meals for his father and himself. It wasn't Hermando's fault the water line broke, but Joao was still angry. Frustration boiled within him, uncharacteristic if Joao. He couldn't figure out where it was from.

He started cataloging what it could be, and as always, he started with his friends. Beth had been great, so he knew she wasn't the source. Casey, no. Arly, no. Cal, no. We mentally went through the list of all of the students at Saint Joseph's, but nothing. So he moved to other things, failing to find any source. He moved to things he wish he had back. A home? No, he was strangely comfortable drifting at the moment. A family? He had kith in Paragon, now, and that wasn't bothering him. His bike? His right hand itched to be throttling his Ninja 450, but longing wasn't frustration.

Joao finally gave up, and turned back to the bucket of bleach, to try and finish cleaning up the mess.

[Joao Rodrigues]

Joao lowered his shoulder as he came around the right tackle, lowering his shoulder. He took a quick glance behind him, making sure the ball carrier took the cut, then drove his shoulder into the kid playing linebacker in the pickup football game. Joao stood up, sending the kid flying. He was being careful not to use his powers, but years of fighting and roughhousing on the streets gave him an advantage in technique. The ball carrier dove over the kid lying on the ground into the end zone. Joao laughed, and went to help the linebacker to his feet, but the kid only slapped his hand away, muttering under his breath.

"If you say so, quesol." Joao shrugged and went back with his side to celebrate the touchdown.

***

Conrads turned to his companions watching the game from the sideline. They were meeting to discuss Joao, and his progress. "He seems to be adjusting better that I had thought he would, Janine. He has made friends, has attended all his classes, and even gotten additional tutoring from one of the students."

Janine Sinclair nodded. "True, but one about Friday's incident? And the business with the Tsoo. They went off without their medical badges, and one of the students was seriously hurt."

Conrads shook his head. "You can't expect him to change over night. He still doesn't trust authority figures, and he still seems to have issues with his temper. But he seems to be making a sincere effort to succeed."

Sinclair nodded, watching the subject of their discussion catch a kickoff, and start returning the ball. She stood in silence for a few moments, "I have to agree with you. I was sure he would have been disruptive, violent, and potentially a corrupting factor on some of the more impressionable children. He shows excellent leadership qualities, and places the safety of others ahead of his own, especially in dangerous situations. Montclair was right..." She trailed off, thinking to herself.

Conrads raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

Before Sinclair could answer, Coach Waters got her and Conrads' attention. "I hate to interrupt..."

They looked out on the field just in time to watch the kid Joao had leveled a few moments before take a cheap shot at Joao, pretending to accidentally kick him where he wore a gauze bandage. Joao doubled over, more to protect the apparent injury than out of any pain, then immediately got in the face of the kid, chest to chest. Words were exchanged, and the kid shoved Joao back. The reaction was immediate.

Joao stepped in and struck the kid, sending him sprawling back ten yards. Almost before the kid hit the ground, his friends started after Joao, who lashed out around him in a rage. Before the fight could get any worse, Coach Waters acted, concentrating on Joao to dampen his powers. Without warning, a loud boom sounded, and the air rushed out of Coach Waters' lungs. Stars sparkled in his eyes, and he was filled with a sense of weightlessness. He landed hard against the bleachers behind him, sending another feeble rush of air out of his lungs. He shook his head clear, and mentally tried to catalog any injuries as he gasped to gain his wind back. He wasn't seriously injured, only bruised, so he quickly got up to see if anyone needed help.

The dust was still settling on the field, but Conrads and Sinclair were getting up, seemingly no worse than Waters. He next looks for the kids, some thrown back several yards, but they were all stirring as well. He saw Doctor Orson running from the infirmary with her medical bag, so he was sure the children would be cared for. The only person he couldn't see was Joao himself.

Waters walked on to the field, seeing a deep crater had been blasted. He looked at the edge of the the hole, and quickly looked for Doctor Orson. "Sylvia! Over here!"

The doctor looked up, then ran over to where the coach was standing. She looked into the crater, then immediately started working her way down, following Coach Waters to where Joao lay unconscious. Coach pointed to a flashing green light coming from the back of Joao's left hand. "He's wearing his med badge. Why didn't he get teleported out?"

The doctor looked over Joao, but quickly relaxed when she saw his eyes rapidly moving underneath closed eyelids. "I don't think the med badges are programmed to teleport sleeping students to the infirmary."

"What?" Conrads looked down at the boy, confirming what the doctor had told him. "Well..."

***

"What happened?" Sinclair asked the doctor. They had gathered in the infirmary after using the med badge to transport Joao without risking waking him.

It had been several hours since the incident, as the staff wanted to take time to make sure the other students weren't injured before addressing this new problem. The doctor shook her head. "I'll have to run some tests to be sure, but it seems that all the energy he had been storing was released all at once."

Conrads nodded, having already discussed this with Doctor Orson. "He is able to absorb all kinds of energy; heat, cold, electricity... even kinetic energy, and his body metabolizes it as force, which he can channel as needed. We were aware of his ability to control the release of the force, but we weren't sure how."

Doctor Orson picked up where Conrads left off. "It seems the first power Coach Waters dampened was that power to control to flow. In essence, he broke the valve off the pipe, and all the energy he stored came out at once."

Sinclair nodded, processing the explanation for a few moments. "So, why is he sleeping? The medical checkups we received from Doctor Ward at the King's Row hospital indicated that he didn't need to sleep, and was suffering no ill effects."

Doctor Orson shook her head. "On that, we have only speculation."

Sinclair nodded for Orson to proceed.

"We're working with the hypothesis that he is able to convert the energy his body absorbs to fill his body's need for food and sleep. We're going to run some tests while he's asleep."

"In I will speak with him when he awakes," Conrads added. "He may have some degree of understanding, and not realize it. Obviously, he doesn't have a complete control of his powers as we thought."

"How long will he be out?" Sinclair asked.

Doctor Orson answered, "It's hard to say. He is only sleeping, and not in a coma, which is good. But it seems his body still needs to catch up on all the sleep he missed. I'll put in a feeding tube if he is out for too long. In the mean time, we're keeping him in a place where his body will absorb as little energy as possible."

Sinclair nodded. "Let me know if anything changes."

[Joao Rodrigues]

Conrads spoke quietly to Doctor Orson over Joao's sleeping form. "It's been almost a week. Any change?"

"No, and yes."

Conrads raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"He's still asleep, and he has been stable. However, his blood work has given some confusing results."

Conrads followed Doctor Orson into her office, where she pulled up the results from the tests she had been running on Joao. "See here? There is a greatly increased number of the symbiotic enzymes that we found initially. But, look here. There are two more agents in his blood that weren't there before."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning there is more here than there was. Look at his genetic testing. There are fewer inactive pairs, and there has even been some resequencing."

"So, he's evolving?"

Doctor Orson shook her head. "More like adapting. These changes seem environmental. At first, I was skeptical, but now, I'm not so sure. Every once in a while, I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye, but it wasn't until yesterday when I saw it for sure. Given the EEG readings, while Joao was having a nightmare, there were dark wisps around him."

"That would be consistent with observations from his work in the bunker. He seems to have some kind of negative energy he can channel into his fighting, like with the force. It doesn't come up often, and usually when he forgets the testing is just simulation."

Doctor Orson nodded. "There is also the fact that the new tattoo he has on his chest has been healing faster than normal."

"How fast?"

"Maybe a quarter again as fast? It's hard to say for sure without further testing, and I don't want to put him through that kind of testing."

Conrads nodded, "Good idea. Anything else?"

"Yes. We found the missing factor. He has an extra neurotransmitter similar to serotonin that seems to regulate the symbiotic enzymes. I couldn't even begin to try to synthesize it. He seems to have some control, but adrenaline seems to stimulate it's production. The more of the neurotransmitter X he has, the more efficient the the enzymes can metabolize energy to force, but also the more fine control over the force. He's going to have to learn how to use this, as there has been evidence of conscious control."

Conrads nodded. "The fact that he can prevent his powers from being on all the time?"

"Exactly. I would suggest some kind of mental discipline program."

"I'll start him on meditation exercises when he wakes up."

[Joao Rodrigues]

Conrads sighed and rubbed his temples. "Let's start again, Jonny."

He and Joao had been working for about half an hour on meditation practices. Joao, however, did not seem to be taking it very seriously.

"Close your eyes, and picture yourself on a forest path."

"Like in the park?"

"Yes, like Perez Park."

"'Cause I ain't never seen no forest before I saw the park. It's real pretty."

Conrads sighed again. "Perhaps today isn't the best day to start, Jonny. You seem distracted."

"If you say so. 'Sides, I gotta get to Ma's class."

Conrads smiled. Joao enjoyed cooking, and Mrs. Williams seemed to fill some need for him. He spent a lot of time in the home economics rooms with her between classes during the day, and he did have a talent for making chocolate. "Alright, Jonny. Come back tomorrow, and we'll try again."

"If you say so, quesol."

Joao stood up and left the office. He wasn't sure what was the deal with Conrads and his meditation. As far as he could tell, it was just him pretending to go down any number of forest paths. Guided meditation, Conrads called it. Still, the previous night, when he was spending himself out in the bunker's training room, it had happened again. He lost control, although not as bad this time. This time, he felt the release, and got dizzy, but didn't pass out. He had to do better.

He thought about this as he got to Mrs. Williams' home ec class. "Hey, Ma."

"Hi, Jonny. You're early for class."

Joao shrugged. "I know. Got out early with Conrads. I got time for a batch?"

Mrs. Williams chuckled. Almost like clockwork, Joao came by to make another batch of chocolates once every other week. "Sure. This time, though, I want you to make the chocolate with a hint of vanilla, and hide a cherry inside. You think you can do that?"

Joao smiled. "Lemme guess. I gotta figure that out myself, right?"

****

A figure detached itself from the shadows of the alley, moving swiftly through the dim pool of light cast by a fluttering street lamp. The figure vanished into the darkness on the other side, pressing itself up against the building facing the alley. It paused briefly at the door, working carefully at the lock, surprised to find the door opened without any effort. Cautiously, it slipped inside, creeping across the sparring floor inside.

Without preamble, the lights flashed on, and Joao shaded his eyes, turning quickly to find who was present. He saw the man he only knew as Ten Strike leaning against the wall by the light switches.

"Hello, Jon."

"What are you doin' here?"

"I've been expecting you."

"Huh?"

"I heard about what happened last week at Saint Joe's. I figured you might come by."

"Uh... yeah..." Joao cracked his knuckles by squeezing his hands into fists. "So, you gonna kick me out now?"

"No."

"Then... uh, what?"

"I'm going to wait to find out why you're here."

"Oh... uh... well... I guess I kinda havin' problems with control..."

"Uh-huh."

"And, uh... it ain't like somethin' that I can like turn on or off, or nothin'... it's kinda just how I is... I guess."

"Uh-huh."

"And, uh... I guess I need help."

"Why not find someone in the school?"

Joao set his jaw. "No. They ain't know nothin'."

Ten Strike nodded and walked over to kneel at the edge of the sparring mat, signaling Joao to do the same.

"Well, we start with breathing."

[Joao Rodrigues]

Conrads rubbed his temple. Joao tried, but the guided meditation just wasn't working with him. This was the third attempt, butnothing seemed to be working. Still, every night, Joao reported to the bunker, and trained hard, until he was tired enough to sleep. He had regained his appetite, and it was a very healthy appetite.

"Let's try something else, Jonny."

"Sure thing, quesol. What you got?"

Conrads got up and dimmed the lights in his office. He started concentrating on Joao, opening his senses to Joao's feelings. Restless. "Close your eyes." Uncomfortable. "Relax. Try to picture yourself somewhere." Confusion. "No, it doesn't matter where, but some place where you can relax."

"Like the water." Helpful.

"Yes, Jonny. Try to concentrate on that place." Joao was giving this an effort. "Good. Try to hear the waves on the shore, the smell of the water." Relaxing. "Picture what the waves look like, rolling, steady." There it was. Joao was opening up his mind, starting to grasp the edge of a meditative state. "Good. What are you doing?"

"Sittin'... I like to sit and watch the water... helps me think." Calm.

"Are you sitting on the sand? On a chair? On a rock?"

"A rock. On the breakwater." Calm.

Conrads smiled to himself. This was the first time Joao had been completely calm since these sessions started. "Can you feel the flow of the energy you are absorbing?"

"Yeah." Excited.

"Good. Relax, and keep the image of the beach in mind. What does it feel like?"

"It's... like drinkin' ice cold water on a hot day." Curious. "I can feel it kinda buildin' up." Nervous.

"Relax. I think that's the way it works. Focus on where it's building, Jonny. What's that like?"

"I... dunno... it's... easy." Calm. But there was something else there. Amusement? Insight? But that wasn't Joao, it felt foreign.

Conrads started trying to identify it, but he felt it building in strength. He decided that it might not be wise to bring it out right away, at least until he knew more about it.

"That's all for today, Jonny. See you next week?"

Joao was disappointed. He was a tough case for Conrads. Joao was almost completely lacking in guile, but he so believed the image of what he was, that it had almost become a mask to hide behind. "If you say so, quesol."

Conrads watched as Joao gathered his books and left his office, his mind on the mystery he had uncovered.

***

"Get up, kid."

Joao gasped for breath on the training floor, Ten Strike looming over him. A lucky shot had knocked the wind out of him. Maybe not a lucky shot, but it made Joao feel better to think so. He laboriously climbed back to his feet, controlling his anger by loosing himself in his breathing. "How I gonna breathe if I ain't got no wind."

"Stop trying to breathe, and breathe. You aren't going to get better if you keep thinking about it."

Joao took his stance again, ready for the onslaught that he knew was coming. Taking Strikes advice, he let himself go and just focused on what he was doing. Like in the past, everything started slowing down for him, seeing Strikes movements in time to react, and fighting against his own slowness. He weathered Stikes blows, one after another, letting his body build up the energy he needed to keep up with Strike.

"Don't just stand there, hit me."

Joao took a tentative swing, which Strike easily blocked. Strike stopped attacking. "I said hit me, kid."

Joao started swinging with more confidence, channeling force with each blow. As every time before, he started feeling the energy around him; light, heat, impact, life. For the first time, he felt it come into him, like drinking ice cold water, and with every punch he threw, he became more sure that this one would be the one that got through. But as every time before, Strike anticipated his attack, and easily blocked, dodges, or swatted it aside.

"Hit me."

Joao felt the frustration building. He gave out a roar, pressing his attacks, always failing to connect with Strike.

"Hit me."

Joao felt the chill down his spine as his body worked harder and harder. He practically chased Strike around the training floor, punching, swinging, grabbing at him, always missing, always getting blocked.

"I said hit me. Stop trying, and hit me!"

Strike let Joao back him into a corner, easily parrying every attack. He had been hard on the kid to get through to him. Joao was stubborn, willful, and set in his view of things. Strike let his attention drift back to the training. Joao was getting better, and he knew that Joao could pack a solid punch, especially if he was letting the energy he absorbed loose through the force of his attack. He could see the frustration building in Joao's eyes... and then... something else. He could feel... it was like something was pushing against him, unseen hands pressing against his body. Strike took a quick glance around, easily sidestepping another undisciplined rush from Joao. They were still alone. Across the floor, they went, Strike giving ground as Joao rushed toward him. Strike though he could see waves coming off of Joao now, and with each wave, another gentle push. Joao was moving faster, and Strike had to give more attention to keeping Joao from hitting him.

A loud crack split through the room, and Strike felt himself getting picked up off his feet. He easily rolled with it, coming to his feet in a ready crouch. Joao hadn't touched him, Strike was sure of that. He looked over to Joao, who had collapsed, a tiny trickle of blood coming from his nose.

***

A thrill of fear shot through Joao. He struggled to pierce the darkness that had suddenly come up. Slowly, his eyes adjusted, or maybe light slowly came up. Everything had a ruddy hue as he tried to figure out what had happened. He wiped at a bead of sweat from his forehead, and realized he wasn't wearing his glasses. In a panic, he searched the ground around him.

"You won't find them here... but you haven't lost them."

Joao started up. Just at the edge of the light, he saw a man in a long canvas coat, with a stiff collared shirt and an archaic looking wide tie. He was wearing a wide brimmed hat, and he was smoking a cigarette. The man blew smoke out in a blue black cloud that hung in the air. Joao thought he recognized the man, but he couldn't place him.

"You need to wake up, now, Mister Rodrigues. It isn't time yet... soon, but not yet."

A bright light stabbed into Joao's eyes, and he was relieved by the bluish tint to it. "You alright, kid?"

He was on the floor on the training room at Ten Strikes again. Joao hauled himself up to his feet, wiped his mouth and nose, and took up a stance. "I'm gonna hit you this time."

[Joao Rodrigues]

Conrads smiled as Joao sat with his eyes closed. Joao was very good at visualizing places he had been before. It fell in line with is aptitude for memory and recognition. Still, Conrads was proud of the boy, and how far he had come. He knew Joao was getting help from outside the school, but he still did everything that was asked of him.

"Is it day or night on the beach?" Joao was calm.

"Sunrise. Best time to be there. Water turn red, then gold, then blue." Peaceful.

"Must have been very beautiful."

"Ain't no different here, if you ever bother to go look." Sincere... and something else.

"Focus on the colors, Jonny."

"Sure... Like the red, like blood at first, then like fire, then like like a flower..." Calm... and... what was that.

It was getting stronger, but it was like something floating at the edge of Conrads' vision, just hanging at the corner of his eye. He focused on the other feelings, concentrating on the details. Slowly, an image formed in his mind, a shadow, a silhouette. He was dark, just a shadow, but with a soft blue glowing from his eyes, and the cherry red end of a cigarette. The shadow blew a cloud of blue-black smoke at Conrads, breaking his concentration.

"...and then it blue and gray, like the sky," Joao finished, Conrads having missed it all, tried to gather his focus back on Joao, but found himself distracted.

"I think that's enough for today, Jonny. I am very pleased with your progress. I want you to keep at it, OK?"

"Yeah. Thanks, quesol. I guess I'll see you later." Blurry.

"Goodbye, Jonny."

He kept trying to focus on Joao as he left his office, but every time he did, a single phrase echoed in his head. "We'll talk soon."

[Joao Rodrigues]

Atwood turned to a new page, sitting in Conrads' office. "I don't usually sit in on your private sessions, David."

"I know, Valerie, but this is a special case. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I think it might be important."

"Of course."

They were interrupted by a knock on the door as Joao entered. He looked back and forth between Conrads and Atwood. "I thought I had time here..."

Conrads smiled to Joao, and motioned for him to sit in his usual chair. "You are right on time, as always, Jonny. This is Ms. Atwood. She is going to be sitting in."

Sat down heavily in the offered chair, carefully setting his messenger bag full of his school books next to it. "Hey, sera. What's the thing?"

"Just the normal thing. I want you to relax, and we'll start the meditation again."

Joao nodded, took a deep breath and envisioned himself on the breakwater back home.

"Good, Jonny. Now focus on the sound of the waves."

Atwood let her focus wander, opening her mind to her surroundings as she put pencil to her drawing pad. She let her mind drift, until her hand started moving across the paper, seeming to trace the outline of a shadowy figure in a wide brimmed hat.

"Very clever... I hadn't anticipated this."

"What was that, Jonny?" Conrads was surprised by this sudden change in speech pattern. That other sense, of amusement, of confidence was almost as strong as the calm, worried sense from Jonny himself.

"I am sorry, madam, but it is still too soon."

Conrads leaned back in his chair, trying to puzzle out what had happened as Joao continued describing the beach front, and how his powers felt when he used them as if nothing unusual had happened.

When Atwood came out of her trance, she glanced at the clock on Conrads' desk. Twenty minutes passed, and Atwood couldn't remember anything clearly. She carefully studied the image she had drawn on her pad as Conrads wrapped things up and sent Joao back to class.

The two councilors sat in silence for a short while. "Was I wrong?"

Atwood finally looked up. "I... I don't know. There certainly is something there."

"Anything more than that."

"I... I can't say." She turned her pad around to show Conrads. Her work was less detailed than it usually was, showing only a rough spiral, shrouded in smoke.

[Joao Rodrigues]

Joao walked through the row, upset with himself. He had hit more Hellion haunts than he cared to count, but no one knew who had called the hit on Casey. It was late, and he needed to be back at school before he was missed. He had just enough time to check in on Hermando and Estiban at the restaurant on his way. He wasn't paying much attention to his surrounding, but something grabbed his focus; a whimper from the alley across the street.

***

Conrads leaned back and rubbed his eyes. The end of the term was always a busy time, and he had stayed late to make sure his paperwork was in order. He stood, and stretched, walking to the window to look out on the campus, quietly lit by the lamps following the pathways. A flicker just out of sight and a whisper, and he stood up straight, alert. He listened but couldn't hear anything. He relaxes, searching out the feelings in the room, and the whisper grew louder.

"Just so, Mr. Conrads. Relax your mind so we can speak. It is time."

***

His first instinct was to keep walking. Joao knew this wasn't the best part of town, but the gangs had staked turf here, and he didn't want to intrude upon it. Just after he decided to keep walking, he found his feet carried him to the mouth of the alley to check things out.

"If it's real bad," he thought, "I guess I can do somethin'."

***

Conrads turned with a start. He hadn't heard anyone come into his office. Standing in the corner, was a shadowy figure, dressed in a 1940s style suit and wearing a wide brimmed hat.

"Who are you?" Conrads asked.

"A friend... at least in the matter that I am still here. We met, once."

Conrads focused on the figure. He could see that the figure was smoking, but there was no smell in the air. In fact the blue-black smoke seemed to disappear a short distance away from him. "I don't recall..."

"Think, Mr. Conrads. When you were working with our mutual interest. We are both his champions, in a way."

Conrads narrowed his eyes. "You mean Jonny."

"Yes... Cerberus, as he likes to call himself. I concluded that you felt the same thing in him that I did when I met him."

"What do you mean?"

"Ah, I must apologize. Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Psychic Spiral."

Conrads recognized the name. It was the hero alias that a former, and generous, alum, Simon Montclair. He rubbed his temples. Montclair died over a month ago.

"I know what you must be thinking, Mr. Conrads. How could I be here, having died? The answer is simple. I needed to know if I was right. Of course, I am but a shadow of myself. A mere ghost of what I once was."

"You attached yourself to Jonny."

"Very astute. I see now why you have such a reputation. Yes, indeed, I did."

"How are you here, then?"

"You touched his mind with your empathy, Mr. Conrads. You noticed the shadow of my emotions as I reacted to your session. I felt I owed it to you for an explaination."

"And so I wouldn't keep looking for you? Like I did with Atwood."

"Exactly. Especially after tonight."

Conrads nodded, still skeptical. "Then why are you here... I mean here in my office."

"Ah, that is the question, isn't it. I am here because you found me, you saw in Mr. Rodrigues what I did at his trial, and now is the most critical time."

***

Joao looked over his glasses into the darkness. He saw, barely lit, three Skulls laughing over a woman, her dress torn down the front to her waist. "This ain't my fight," he thought, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. She whimpered again, begging them to leave her alone.

***

"What do you mean, a critical time."

"Mr. Rodrigues has come to the point where he has to decide which path he is to follow in this life."

"How do you know?"

"How do you think I am here, a mere psychic shadow."

Conrads thought about that for a moment. "You found a way to anchor yourself to him, didn't you. Psychically."

"Very good, Mr. Conrads."

"So you guided him to this?"

"No more than did you. Or Mr. Rein, or Ms. Jordan, or Ms. Rhys, or any number of his peers here. Less so, as I am not able to communicate with him, only observe."

"I see. Why?"

"Does it matter?"

"Where is he?"

"Facing what he was, and deciding what he will be."

***

The decision had been made when Joao first heard the plea for help. There was no use delaying it until it was too late. Joao stepped out into the alley.

"How I do this?" Joao thought to himself. He remembered all of the people he had fought alongside since he got to Paragon City. He tried to think what they would say, how they would do this. He finally decided that if he was going to do this, he had to do it his way, remembering what Strike had told him, that sometimes people don't get the hero they want, just the person they need.

"You ain't wanna do that, quesol."

***

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he has to decide whether he is going to be nothing more than what he was before he got here, or if he really is the hero you and I both know he could be."

"It is the policy of the school not to encourage the students to do that kind of thing."

"Policy, Mr. Conrads? What is the policy for hope?"

***

The Skulls turned to face him, seeing Joao walking toward them, not menacing, not intimidating, just cool and confident.

"Look what we got. Another banger tryin' to carve out turf. You're gonna have to wait your turn."

"No turn. Just givin' some sense, quesol. Here's more, for nothin'. You should skit now."

The Skulls laughed. "Yeah, sure. And you gonna stop us?"

Joao nodded, his face impassive. He cracked his knuckles by squeezing his hands into fists.

The Skull in the middle of the three, clearly the leader, pulled a gun from his back pocket, aiming it at Joao. "No closer, man, or I'm gonna blow you away."

***

"Is he in danger?"

"No more than he has been in his whole life, Mr. Conrads. Let us face the truth. Mr. Rodrigues is in his element on the streets, don't you think?"

Conrads nodded. "We've been trying to work on that."

"No need. He is a person from the streets. That can never change. What may change tonight is whether he will define himself by that fact."

Conrads started to pace, worried about Joao. "I see. And you think there is no hope if he decides to return to that life tonight?"

"There is always hope, Mr. Conrads. But, if I can be frank with you, I doubt if he will be able to make that decision again."

***

Joao continued to walk toward the Skulls. "I give you one shot, quesol. You ain't should miss."

The Skull thrusted the gun forward. He was losing his nerve in the face of Joao's calm approach, and the gun started trembling in his hand.

"What wrong, quesol. Nervous? Feared? Lemme help. You better steady your gat. Both hands, that it. Aim for center, or you could miss."

The Skulls eyes widened, then narrowed. The nerve of this kid, telling him how to use a gun. He cradled the gun in both hands, aimed for the middle of Joao's chest and pulled the trigger. Joao flinched.

***

"So, why are you here?"

"Ah, now you know how, why becomes relevant. I am here because I will no longer be able to remain after he makes this decision. I would ask a simple favor of you."

"What?"

"If he chooses to remain a man of the street, don't give up. Don't expect anything more from him, but keep trying. "

"And if he doesn't?"

"If he decides to become a hero, remind him for me that he has lost, and that the only hope of redemption comes in inspiring other gifted people to take a stand against the darkness."

***

Everyone in the alley froze as the smoke from the gun dissipated through the air. Just as it cleared enough for the Skull to see past it, he realized it was too late. A fist flew in through the cloud, smashing down on his wrist, sending the gun skittering across the ground. The second fist caught him in the gut. Joao swung again and again, until the Skull fell in a crumpled heap against the dumpster. Joao turned to the others.

"You should skit, quesol. Tell your kith I gonna be lookin' over they shoulder now on."

"Who are you."

Joao took a moment to answer. "I Cerberus, and this city on my watch."

"A cape. We shoulda known."

"Yeah. But I ain't so forgivin' as the others, so you better skit 'fore I change mind."

The Skulls nearly fell, fleeing from Joao.

***

"My time is up. Thank you, Mr. Conrads. I hope I have not disturbed your work overmuch."

The ghost of Montclair faded, leaving Conrads alone in his office. He sat down at his desk again, staring at the unfinished paperwork for many long moments. Then, he turned his desk lamp off, and grabbed his bag, putting on his coat to go home.

***

The woman cringed as Joao approached. "You green, sera?"

"Stay away."

"I ain't gonna hurt you none."

Joao quickly assessed that the woman was scared more than hurt. He took off his shirt, and offered it to her. "Here."

"Are you really a hero?"

"Yeah. Ain't what you think what when you eye me, but I is."

She took the offered shirt and pulled it on over her torn dress. "Thank you."

"C'mon, sera. I walk you home."

She looked surprised. "It's just a couple more blocks..."

"Ain't wanna let you have to make that alone, sera. Ain't safe turf."

She took Joao's offered hand and pulled herself up, wrapping her arms around herself against the cold and the fear. "Most heroes wouldn't take the time. Thank you."

"I ain't most heroes. I just is who I is."

They walked in silence until she got to her building. She turned to thank him once more. "Thank you." She paused. "It was lucky he missed when he shot at you. I mean, how could you know he would?"

Joao smiled sheepishly, holding up a bullet that looked like it had struck a steel wall. "He ain't."

With that, Joao turned and headed toward the abandoned restaurant to check in on Hermando and his son.