Chapter six
956 Words
The first suit looked terrible.
Ethan stared at himself in the cracked mirror leaning against the parking structure wall and tried very hard to find something encouraging to say.
Nothing came.
He looked like a discount action figure.
The matte-black tactical hoodie Maya had modified fit well enough, but the glowing blue energy lines she'd stitched into the sleeves were uneven.
The half-mask sat slightly crooked.
And one shoulder pad was visibly larger than the other.
"It's asymmetrical," Ethan said flatly.
Maya, crouched beside an open toolkit, didn't even look up.
"It's called character."
"It's called lopsided."
"It's called art."
"It's called bad."
Now she looked up.
"You were unconscious for three hours and somehow woke up with opinions."
Ethan adjusted the mask.
It pinched the bridge of his nose.
"This thing is trying to break my face."
"It's calibrating."
"That's not what calibrating means."
"Agree to disagree."
He sighed.
This was his life now.
Arguing with Maya in an abandoned parking structure while wearing what looked like a tactical hoodie assembled by an insomniac engineer with no respect for symmetry.
Which, in fairness, was exactly what it was.
Still…
The moment he looked closer, he could see how much work she'd put into it.
The material wasn't ordinary fabric.
It was lightweight kinetic-resistant weave she'd somehow acquired through methods Ethan definitely did not want explained.
Thin conductive channels ran through the sleeves and torso.
The gloves had reinforced impact dispersal padding.
And on his left forearm, a narrow blue strip pulsed faintly.
"The charge meter?"
Maya nodded.
"Tracks kinetic buildup."
"Does it work?"
"Probably."
"Probably?"
She stood and brushed dust from her jeans.
"Science is about discovery."
"That is not comforting."
"It shouldn't be."
She circled him critically.
"Jump."
"Why is that always your first instinct?"
"Because if it explodes, we'll know early."
Ethan stared.
Maya smiled.
He was beginning to suspect she enjoyed saying things purely to watch him panic.
Still, he bent his knees.
Focused.
And jumped.
The pressure surged.
He shot upward—
not as wildly as before.
The suit's stabilizers kicked in, blue lines flaring.
He hit nearly twenty feet, twisted midair, and landed cleanly.
No stumble.
No crash.
No accidental wall destruction.
For a moment, both stared.
Then Maya pumped her fist.
"Yes."
Ethan blinked.
"That actually worked."
"Of course it worked."
"You said probably."
"That was dramatic tension."
He laughed despite himself.
The sound echoed through the empty structure.
And for the first time since all this started, something clicked.
The suit.
The charge.
The control.
It wasn't perfect.
But it felt real.
He looked down at the glowing blue lines across his arms.
At the faint kinetic pulse running through the fabric.
This was happening.
He wasn't just surviving the accident anymore.
He was becoming something new.
Maya tossed him a folded sheet of paper.
He caught it.
"What's this?"
"Your hero name options."
Ethan unfolded it.
And immediately regretted it.
The list read:
Shockwave
Velocity
Kinetic Kid (absolutely not)
Blue Bolt
Momentum
Captain Physics
He looked up slowly.
"Captain Physics?"
"I was brainstorming."
"That's not brainstorming. That's a crime."
"Wow. Harsh."
Then his eyes landed on the final name.
At the bottom.
Simple.
Clean.
Pulse
He stared at it.
Maya noticed.
"Yeah," she said quietly.
"That one felt right."
He nodded.
It did.
Not flashy.
Not overcomplicated.
Just right.
"Pulse," he repeated.
The word settled into place.
And somehow, hearing it out loud made everything feel more official.
Maya smirked.
"Well then."
She extended her hand dramatically.
"Congratulations, Pulse."
He rolled his eyes but shook it anyway.
"You're unbelievably weird."
"And yet indispensable."
"Debatable."
"Objectively false."
Their hands separated.
Then Maya's tablet buzzed.
Her expression shifted instantly.
The playful energy vanished.
"What?"
She turned the screen toward him.
A live emergency feed.
Downtown financial district.
Street-level destruction.
Police blockade.
Civilians evacuating.
And at the center of it—
orange fractures.
Breaker.
Again.
This time he wasn't hitting infrastructure.
He was targeting armored Apex Dynamics transport units.
Tearing them open one by one.
Stealing something.
Ethan's jaw tightened.
Maya looked up sharply.
"No."
"What?"
"No."
He blinked.
"You haven't even said anything."
"I know that face."
"What face?"
"The incredibly stupid one."
He frowned.
"I have to go."
"Absolutely not."
"Maya—"
"You barely survived last time."
"This is different."
"How?"
He hesitated.
Because honestly?
He didn't know.
But something had changed.
The suit fit.
The energy felt steadier.
His movements sharper.
And beneath all that—
there was a certainty he hadn't felt before.
He could do this.
Not perfectly.
Not safely.
But better.
He met her eyes.
"I can't just ignore it."
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then she exhaled sharply.
"Fine."
Ethan blinked.
"Fine?"
"You're impossible to stop when you get like this."
She grabbed a compact device from the table and shoved it into his hand.
He turned it over.
A small comm-link.
"For contact," she said.
"If things go bad, you answer immediately."
He clipped it onto his suit.
"Thanks."
Maya crossed her arms.
"This is not approval."
"Feels a lot like approval."
"It's tactical resignation."
He smirked.
Then moved toward the ledge overlooking the city.
Six floors down.
Rain beginning again.
The skyline glowed beneath storm clouds.
Behind him, Maya's voice stopped him.
"Ethan."
He looked back.
For once, her usual sarcasm was gone.
Only concern remained.
"Come back."
The same words she'd said before the overpass.
This time, he gave her a small smile.
"I will."
Then he ran.
Each step built charge.
Blue lines igniting across the suit.
At the edge, he launched.
Pulse soared into the storm-dark sky.
And for the first time—
the landing was intentional.
Far below, Ashbourne waited.
And so did Breaker.
- Writer
