Everyone on earth was element leaning towardsomething—Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Lightning, Light, Dark, or Metal. In some cases there were even specialties, like Water people focused on Ice or Earth people communing more with seismic occurrences than plants. For most people that meant trivial things. The colorof their eyes that marked them at birth, and maybe, if they were lucky, they’d get some resistance to or benefit from their element, like a Water person being able to breathe underwater longer or someone Air leaning growing into an elegant dancer.
Only a handful of the population had true abilities, powers tied to their element that stood them above the rest. In Olympus City, Malcolm Cho’s father had been the only notable Elemental for years, until the Titans themselves and a few stragglers like Camouflage came along.
Then Thanatos had come. Then Zeus had been born. Then everything…changed.
Lynn had dragged them down to the basement that night through a locked door no one knew existed, into the old morgue where a handful of forgotten rooms spanned half the length of the station.
“Everyone thinks this is just some tiny storage area,” she’d said. “Someone made a mistake on the blueprints when they did renovations. It looks like this is all part of the parking garage now, so no one bothered to explore it. I broke in here one night looking for medical supplies and discovered the truth. I come down here sometimes when I need to be alone.”
Danny had been too out of it at the time to question the M.E. about why she hadn’t reported the mystery half of the basement to the captain. He hadn’t been fully coherent again until hours later.
Now, trapped in the present, he was coherent but didn’t feel like talking. Lynn hadn’t said a word about the state of Camo since Danny brought him in, though Andre had uttered a surprised, “Dude,” that made Danny flare with anger more than shame.
Which he knew was backwards. Heshouldfeel ashamed. He could have killed the man. He’d let himself get angry, and it had led to Camo likely having a concussion, not to mention thecuts and bruises. But Danny either felt empty or justifiably bitter these days, and neither emotion resembled the relief he craved. He just wanted to sleep, wake up in the morning, and be a different man. Be someone other than Danny Grant or Zeus.
“Danny?” Andre said with a note of confusion.
Blinking, Danny looked up, only to see both Andre and Lynn hovering in front of him like they’d been standing there for a while. “Huh? What? Did you say something?” He hopped down from the hospital bed in the autopsy room they used as a med room. It was ten by twenty feet at most, with a large observation window looking out into the main area. Danny was still in costume, cowl back, body drained and tired, but not as sore as he’d be if he weren’t an Elemental.
He dropped the now bloodied cloth on top of the hospital bed next to the wrapper of the protein bar he’d downed when he first got back. His super healing also meant super hypoglycemia if he wasn’t careful.
Andre’s grey eyes widened, while Lynn’s blue ones narrowed and she pursed her lips. They were both so stereotypical of their leanings—Andre a technician as Metal, even more talented with computers and engineering than he was as a CSI; and Lynn a natural healer as Water, though she focused more on dead bodies as the medical examiner. Andre was only a couple years out of college, while Lynn was a few years older than Danny and wore prim, tailored dresses under her lab coat.
Danny could sense the lecture coming, from Lynn in particular. He knew he deserved it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“What happened tonight?” she asked, her silver-colored glasses almost blending in with the white-blond of her hair.
“I told you. It was dark,” Danny said. “I didn’t see the damage I’d done until the lights came on. I was frantic from the fight. He kept getting the jump on me.”
“And that would be fine,” she said, arms crossed in reprimand, “if I thought you were being honest with us. But the Danny I know, even if this was an accident, would be beating himself up over hurting someone that badly. Lately, you’ve been…”
“What?” Danny took a step closer to his friend when she trailed. He almost expected her and Andre to back up a step and felt anger swirl in his gut when they didn’t.
“Dude, chill,” Andre held up his hands like appeasing a small child. His tightly braided hair hung long past his shoulders, half-tied back as it rested against his dark skin. “You’ve been extra intense the past few weeks, okay? Like all your nerves are fried. If that leads to catching the baddies that much better, I’m all for it, butthat…”
“But that what?” Danny challenged again. Took a step toward them—again. “Is what I did any worse than how my enemies have left me this past year? Just because I heal faster doesn’t mean I haven’t been beaten. And hurt. And near death more than once—”
“Which is awful, Danny,” Lynn stepped into his path, “and I wish we could prevent you from ever getting hurt like that again, but that doesn’t justify stooping to the level of the people you stop.”
Rage curdled in Danny’s veins because it was a familiar lecture lately, and as the need to lash out warred within him, he whirled around and slammed his fists down onto the hospital bed, buckling it and crashing it to the floor.
“Danny!”
“Dude, what is your problem?!”
“Myproblemis it never stops!” Danny yelled, louder and fiercer in his anger as he faced away from them. He couldn’t see straight for how he shook and boiled on the inside. “They take my mother and they take my time—my days, my nights,my life.Thanatos, Cho, all of them! They take everything…and what they don’t take leaves.
“Vanessa left me. My father can barely look at me. And something I once thought was a gift, that I would have chosen if I could, would have asked for if chance hadn’t given it to me, now is something I can’t escape. I can never escape or stop, because the second I stop, someone is going to die, and it’s going to be the wrong person again, someone I love and can’t protect.
“So why can’t I hurt someone first, foronce, huh? When do I get the upper hand? When do I get afuckingbreak?!”
He kicked the hospital bed with such force that the whole thing went flying into the wall with a shock of lightning trailing it and smacked into the window, causing a crack three feet long to form and nearly shatter the whole thing into fragments.
Danny gaped at what he’d done the moment the carnage settled. It was like some spell had lifted, breaking through the surface of his numbness and leaving him with this awful, potent sadness. He didn’t realize he’d started to cry until he sniffled, then lifted a hand to his face and felt the wetness on his cheeks that had nothing to do with dried blood or the cloth he’d used to wipe it away.
The silence smothered him. He was afraid to turn around, to see how his friends would look at him after he’d done something so reckless and frightening—again.
“I’m sorry,” he said, half-turned, staring at the floor. Lightning people weren’t known for being docile, but that was no excuse for his temper. He was grateful, actually grateful that he felt the shame and ache of what he’d done, because when he felt nothing it was so much worse. “I’m sorry,” he tried again, sniffling and gasping and—damn it. He hated being weak, almost more than he hated the shell of himself he’d become.
