1.15 – Raving Mad

Emotion-laden symphonic rave music pulsed through the air, loud enough to be heard a full city block away from the abandoned grocery store serving as tonight's makeshift auditorium.

A haunting melody floated above the rhythm, its notes tantalizingly familiar to Leona. She cocked her head, trying to place it. The song wasn’t identical to anything she’d heard before, but it felt like a close cousin, echoing the catchy beat of a tune she knew well.

If she didn’t know any better, she might have thought it was her sister playing. But as she and Quinn stepped inside, her hopes were dashed. On the main platform stood some random guy she’d never seen before, working his deck.

The production crew—or whatever passed for one—had cordoned off a large square in front of the stage as a designated dance floor. About a dozen dancers swayed to the music, their movements hypnotic. The rhythm was slow yet intense, its elongated, deep tones inspiring fluid, Tai-Chi-like sweeps instead of frantic jumps or headbanging.

Strobing lasers and ambient lights cast the dancers in shifting hues, making their movements appear disjointed, almost teleporting from one statuesque pose to the next in bursts of shuttered time.

Leona’s eyes widened in surprise, and she turned to Quinn. “Wow—that guy’s almost as good as you.”

Quinn scoffed, flicking a glance toward the stage. “Pfft, just another pretender to my throne. Ripped off some of my best stuff. You can hear me in there, right?” She chuckled, the sound dry. “Oh well, I can’t afford a real copyright. At least he’s not trying too hard to make it obvious.”

“Don’t they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery?” Leona quipped, trailing after Quinn as she led the way to a wall near the stage.

“True enough,” Quinn conceded, leaning casually against the wall and crossing her arms. She gestured toward the stage. “Robbie up there’s not a bad guy. His music’s definitely his therapy, though—it just screams unresolved emotional issues. They say music expresses our hearts and souls, and his beats tell me he thinks there’s something missing.”

Leona nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah—I always feel your emotions when you play, sis.”

Quinn glanced at her little sister, a rare softness touching her sharp features. “Still got plenty of room to grow, though. Not trying to knock the guy too hard.” She straightened and glanced around the room. “Anyway, you thirsty yet? By the sound of things, we weren’t nearly fashionably late enough. He’s still gonna be up there for another forty minutes.” She started moving away without waiting for a reply, muttering just under her breath, “I just hope he figures—”

Leona watched her go, smiling faintly. Her eyes tracked Quinn’s confident steps until her sister disappeared into the shifting crowd of dancers.

Leona sighed and slid down the wall, resting her back against it as she drew her knees up. Already, a wave of lethargy was creeping over her. Of course, she knew coming to a rave meant Quinn would have her own responsibilities and wouldn’t be by her side the whole time. Still, the unexpected downtime left her feeling adrift.

She glanced toward the stage, anticipating the moment Quinn would take over. But until then, she was just another girl on the outskirts of a scene she didn’t quite belong to. This was Quinn’s world, not hers.

Leona fiddled with a loose thread on her sleeve, her smile turning rueful. Her sister thrived in places like this, while she always felt like she was trying to keep up.

As Leona listened to Robbie’s music, tears welled in her eyes, blurring the swirling colors and moving bodies around her. Geez, she thought, this is one of the few times music’s gotten to me like this. Besides Quinn’s stuff, anyway. Her fingers absently brushed at her cheeks. Maybe it wasn’t just the music—

THUMP.

The floor beneath her vibrated, the walls trembling slightly. Leona jolted, her first thought jumping to the sound system. Geez, the sound system’s really holding up to the music, she mused, though her heart fluttered uneasily.

Robbie’s song filled the space like a tangible weight, the deep tones carrying an almost palpable grief. It wasn’t just a good song—it was raw, unfiltered emotion. It’s so much sadder than anything Quinn’s ever played. Leona hugged her knees, feeling like she was intruding on something deeply personal.

Her sister’s words from earlier came back to her: His music’s an outlet. Leona wiped her eyes again, sniffling quietly. Maybe people who were musically sensitive could pick up on that vibe. Maybe that’s why she’d automatically compared him to Quinn.

She lifted her gaze to the stage, her blurry vision focusing on Robbie. He was hunched over his deck, his face unreadable. There was no visible emotion there—no smile, no furrowed brows—just laser-sharp focus. And yet, his music bled feelings in every beat.

THUMP.

The vibrations returned, harder this time. They rattled her teeth and didn’t match the rhythm of the music at all. Leona’s brows furrowed as her unease deepened. That’s weird… It felt like something heavy had slammed into the ground nearby.

The crowd stirred, shifting uncomfortably. A few dancers glanced around, their movements breaking the trance of the music. But Robbie didn’t flinch, his fingers still dancing over his controls.

After a few tense moments of silence, the energy in the room seemed to settle. Leona exhaled, her shoulders relaxing slightly. Guess it was nothing.

Movement in her periphery caught her attention, and her face lit up. A disturbance in the crowd had to be Quinn pushing through the press of undulating bodies with the drink she’d promised. She grinned, waiting to wave her sister over.

But the disturbance wasn’t coming her way. Instead, it pushed toward the stage, carving a path through the crowd like a storm.

Suddenly, bodies flew in all directions as if struck by an invisible force. People screamed and stumbled, slamming into walls and scattering like leaves in a gale. A keening, despair-filled cry tore through the air, loud enough to drown out the music.

Leona’s breath hitched. Her stomach twisted. Something’s very, very wrong.

“ROBBIE!”

The music cut out abruptly, leaving only a deafening silence.

From her low position by the wall, Leona had an unobstructed view of the chaos. In the middle of the now-empty dance floor stood a teenage boy, wreathed in crackling energy that shifted between red, yellow, and white. His expression radiated fury, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles in his neck stood out.

“You liar!” the boy roared, his voice booming unnaturally loud.

Leona flinched as a strange force rippled outward with his words. It was an indescribable sensation, like gravity itself had tilted, pulling everything away from him. People stumbled and fell, even those who were already on the ground sliding back as if the floor had tilted.

Pressed low against the wall, Leona managed to stay put. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared, wide-eyed.

On stage, Robbie staggered, catching himself against his deck. His face was pale and stricken, his wide eyes locked on the boy. “Oh God, Jeff—what happened to you?”

“You fucking want to know what happened to me, Rob?” The boy’s voice cracked with rage, and the energy around him flared a deep, angry red. “You happened to me! This is your fault!”

It hit Leona then, the weight of the accusation settling in her gut. She stared at the boy—Jeff. He looked awful, like he’d been dragged through every sickness imaginable. His skin was ashen, stretched tightly over his gaunt face. His sunken eyes were ringed with dark circles, making them look hollow and haunted.

The worst part was his hair—or what was left of it. Patches of it clung to his scalp, uneven and scraggly, like it had fallen out in clumps. Whatever had happened to him, it had ravaged him completely.

What in the world happened to this guy? Leona’s mind raced, trying to piece it together. What did Robbie do?

Jeff crouched low, his teeth bared in a feral snarl. The energy around him shifted, concentrating into a menacing red glow that rippled across his frail frame. Whatever was going on, it was far from being over. Not by a long shot.

“Jeff—calm down. Please,” Robbie pleaded, his voice trembling as his eyes darted wildly, searching for any possible escape.

“No! I’m done listening!” Jeff spat, his voice a venomous hiss that echoed through the room. His body crackled with unstable energy as his gaunt frame trembled. “I went through hell itself, and you still FUCKING DUMPED ME! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THEY DID TO ME?”

Before anyone could react, Jeff sprang forward with terrifying speed, his skeletal form a blur as he vaulted onto the stage with inhuman agility.

Oh, crap… Leona’s breath hitched, and her mind raced. San Isidro had been mostly quiet for ten years. Meta activity had been scarce since Gravitas, and the city’s so-called “hero,” El Aguilla, had been little more than a puffed-up showboat with no real battles to fight. His arrogance and lack of utility had driven him to greener pastures—or at least somewhere people didn’t hate his guts. That meant there was no one left in the city to deal with the sudden emergence of someone like Jeff.

Leona’s jaw tightened. No one’s coming. Someone has to do something.

The room was in chaos. Dancers groaned and stumbled, crawling away from the stage, while others bolted for the exits. But Leona stepped forward, her sneakers squeaking faintly against the trembling floor. Each step felt heavier as she pushed against the oppressive force emanating from Jeff.

On stage, Jeff and Robbie locked eyes. Robbie’s gaze was wide and pleading, already glistening with unshed tears. Jeff’s, however, burned with a seething, inhuman rage, his flinty stare drilling into the man before him.

The red energy sparking around Jeff flared brighter, taking on an ominous, blood-like hue as he rose into the air. The move was slow, deliberate, and deeply menacing, the kind of movement meant to paralyze prey.

Robbie shrank back, his voice cracking. “Please stop this. I didn’t forget… I—” He looked away, choking on his words. “I did it for you!”

Jeff’s snarl was guttural. “Shut the fuck up! Don’t rationalize what you did to me!” He shot forward, grabbing Robbie by the shirt with a single hand and lifting him effortlessly off the ground. The smaller man dangled like a rag doll in Jeff’s grip. “You ratted me out! You abandoned me to that place, you piece of shit!”

“D—Don’t—n—no—Je—rghhh—” Robbie’s words devolved into a wet gurgle as Jeff’s grip tightened.

Jeff’s other hand came up, his fingers curling around Robbie’s throat as he began to squeeze. The sound of strained breathing and panicked choking filled the air. Robbie’s hands clawed weakly at Jeff’s iron grip, his face reddening.

Leona was nearly at the edge of the stage now, her heart pounding so loudly she could barely hear herself think. She clenched her fists, her body tingling with the adrenaline flooding her veins. She was going to act—she had to. Someone HAD to!

CRUNCH.

A sickening sound reverberated through the room, freezing her mid-step. Her eyes widened in horror, and before she could process what had happened, a blur of motion slammed into her side.

“Leona, get down!” Quinn tackled her to the floor, shielding her as they hit the ground hard.

Jeff turned sharply, his head snapping toward them with a feral snarl. His eyes narrowed dangerously, and with a callous flick of his wrist, he tossed Robbie’s limp body aside like trash.

Robbie crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

Jeff’s attention zeroed in on the two girls as he slowly floated toward them, his aura crackling louder with every inch he closed.

But just as he reached the edge of the stage, a streak of blue shot across the room like lightning. The blur stopped in front of Jeff, materializing into a woman in a sleek, vibrant costume.

Her skintight bodysuit shimmered with a deep blue hue, streaked with bold red piping that twisted across her frame like racing stripes. The design was unmistakable.

Leona gasped. Redline Racer?!

“What—” Quinn muttered from beside her. “What the hell’s she doing here?”

She must’ve been in the area, Leona thought. Maybe those earlier tremors got her attention.

Jeff’s lip curled as he stared at the member of the Society of Sentinels, unbothered by the sudden arrival of a high-profile hero. “What’s a cape without a cape gonna do about it, huh?”

Redline Racer barely paused. She shot forward, checking Robbie’s body with lightning speed. Her voice came out fast, furious, and crystal clear despite her velocity. “You crushed his throat!” Her gaze snapped back to Jeff, her eyes narrowing as her movements blurred again. “Youdon’tneedacapetobeaherodon’tyougetit?” she fired off at breakneck speed, her voice a rapid but firm stream of words. “You really wanna be a villain? If he dies, there’s no going back!”

Jeff’s body bristled with power, and his voice was a growl. “Who the fuck cares? Not you. Not him!” He thrust a trembling finger toward Robbie’s crumpled form. “I don’t know you, so why should I give a flying fuck about what you say to me?”

While their heated exchange continued, Quinn tugged at Leona’s arm, dragging her toward the swinging doors at the back of the store. Most of the crowd had already cleared out, but Leona kept craning her neck to watch.

I wish—damn it… If only I could’ve done more… then Robbie wouldn’t be… Her eyes drifted to his limp form on the floor. Was he still alive?

As they slipped through the door, Leona stole a final glance back just in time to see Jeff lunge at Redline Racer. His hand shot out in a blur, aiming for her throat with the same terrifying speed he’d used on Robbie.

But Redline Racer was faster. Her body twisted with effortless precision, intercepting his grasp. In a fluid motion, she flipped him over her shoulder, sending him spinning through the air. Jeff crashed into the ground with a resounding thud, the red energy around him flaring like an angry storm.

When she let him go, instead of slamming into the ground like physics demanded, Jeff’s descent slowed unnaturally. His body hovered just above the floor for a split second before he landed lightly, barely disturbing the dust beneath his feet.

Even though Redline Racer had hurled him with force that should have shattered ribs, he brushed his tattered T-shirt casually, like he’d just stood up from a couch.

“Heh—that all ya got, bitch?” Jeff sneered, his eyes narrowing as he tilted his head toward Robbie’s prone, bleeding form. His voice dropped into a mocking lilt, tinged with menace. “I think I’ve got your number. Just one more piece of trash left to throw out tonight.”

Redline Racer’s expression hardened as she shifted into a fighting stance, her movements sharp and deliberate. She tilted her head slightly, her voice dripping with confidence even at its breakneck speed. “Oh——?Just-cause-it-looks-like-you-got-some-kinda-speedster-power, too?” She let out a soft laugh, her lips curling in a challenging smirk. “I’llslowdownthispartjustforyousoyou’llgetit—but you’re still a noob.”

In the blink of an eye, Redline Racer closed the distance. Her fists blurred as they drove into Jeff’s chest in rapid succession, a barrage of rabbit punches targeting the same precise spot with surgical accuracy. Each strike hit harder than the last, building into a crescendo of devastating velocity.

Leona’s heart pounded. She’d seen this technique before—Redline Racer’s signature rapid-strike combo, a move that had taken down villains far tougher than Jeff.

For a moment, Jeff groaned, his body jolting under the relentless assault. But then, his expression shifted. His lips pulled back into a wide grin, and a laugh erupted from his throat—deep, raucous, and chilling.

“Weak!” he bellowed, his voice reverberating in the room like a thunderclap. He tensed his stomach, flexing against her blows as if mocking her power. “I’m Control, personified. Who are you supposed to be?”

Although Redline Racer didn’t flinch, her movements stuttered for the briefest of moments, her fists pausing mid-combo.

Leona gritted her teeth, her hands trembling at her sides. Every instinct screamed at her to do something—anything. But before she could take a single step, a firm grip clamped around her wrist, pulling her sharply backward.

“C’mon!” Quinn hissed, her voice low but fierce as she tugged Leona toward the exit. Her eyes darted nervously back at the chaos behind them, her face tight with barely restrained panic.

Leona struggled against Quinn’s grip, her frustration bubbling over. “We can’t just leave—”

Quinn cut her off with a harsh whisper, her tone edged with fear and gave Leona a light slap across the face. “Goonie’ll kill me if you get hurt being a total idiot, trying to charge into danger. Hanging around the site of a supervillain attack—are you nuts? Leave that shit to your superheroes!”

Leona’s gaze flicked back to the stage. Jeff’s grin hadn’t faltered, his energy crackling violently as he stared down Redline Racer. She clenched her fists. Every muscle in her body screamed at her to stay, to try something, anything.

Quinn’s grip tightened, her voice softening but no less urgent. “I know it’s killing you inside, but we have to get away. NOW.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Leona allowed Quinn to pull her through the doors, the sounds of battle behind them growing fainter with every step.

“What the hell were you thinking!” Quinn snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through the thick tension between them. She was mad—seriously mad.

Leona stared at the ground, saying nothing. There wasn’t anything to say. She hadn’t been thinking, not really. She’d just felt this overwhelming, gut-deep need to do something.

Hours had passed since the incident. Quinn had managed to drag Leona nearly a full block away from the chaos before the younger girl finally stopped resisting, accepting that there wasn’t anything she could do. Leona had absolutely no super powers. Even learning parkour did not make one a hero. She’d followed Quinn silently after that, her chest hollow with guilt and frustration.

They’d blended into a crowd of other ravers a few blocks away, everyone huddled together in stunned silence. A dozen questions lingered in the air, but no one dared voice them. It wasn’t long before flashing red-and-blue lights bathed the street in alternating flashes, police cars screeching to a halt as officers poured out to contain the situation.

Leona overheard pieces of chatter—how Redline Racer had subdued the new meta in just under ten minutes. That both combatants had speed-altering powers had made the fight disorienting to describe; some swore it was over in seconds, others swore it felt like hours. Either way, the danger had passed by the time the authorities arrived.

The cops canvassed the area, taking statements from witnesses. Fortunately, that was all they wanted. Leona couldn’t help but feel a surge of relief. If Goonie had gotten a call from the police about her being at the scene of a supervillain attack… no, there wouldn’t have been a Goonie left. She would have combusted on the spot.

An officer approached, clipboard in hand, his uniform speckled with sweat and grime from the chaos. He gave Leona a quick, assessing glance. “You’re good to go, but we’ll need your contact information in case we have more questions.”

Leona hesitated, her fingers clenching the hem of her shirt. “Wait—Robbie. The guy who… Is he…?” Her voice wavered, trailing off into a whisper.

The officer paused, his expression shifting. He glanced down at his notes, then back up at her, his tone measured but not unkind. “He’s alive. Paramedics got him to the hospital. It’s bad, but from what I’ve heard, he’s got a chance.”

Leona’s breath hitched, a dull ache settling in her chest. Alive. It wasn’t much, but it was something. She nodded stiffly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

The officer gave her a curt nod, turning to the next witness. Leona stayed rooted in place, that faint flicker of hope warring with the image of Robbie’s crumpled form on the grocery store floor.

Quinn didn’t let up as they walked away from the scene. “Leona, please,” she said, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Look at me. Don’t you ever—and I mean ever—do anything like that again. You’re not your mom.”

Leona’s throat tightened at the mention of her real mother, Goonie’s sister. A brave paramedic that lost her life doing her job when Gravitas attacked. Her name was Yvette. Leona barely remembered her face at this point. Her eyes misted, and she looked away, swallowing hard. There wasn’t anything to say to that either.

Quinn sighed heavily, her frustration bubbling over into an awkward joke. “If you breathe a word about what happened to Goonie, I’ll literally kill you.” She punctuated the threat with a theatrical thumb-across-the-throat gesture. “Seriously. If she finds out, we’re never gonna see the outside of our rooms again. Ever-ever-never-ever again.”

Leona’s lips twitched into the faintest of frowns. Tact, much?

Quinn kept going, her voice taking on a pleading tone. “That was just a freak thing. A weird, once-in-a-lifetime, stars-align kinda freak thing.”

“It was freaky,” Leona admitted stiffly. “But we shouldn’t lie to Goonie.”

“I get it,” Quinn said, her voice softening as she ran a hand through her hair. “It’s kinda lying by omission, but Leona… I’m just one gig away from saving enough for my own car. If it makes you feel better, I won’t drag you to any more raves until I’m down in SoCal.” She paused, her eyes searching Leona’s face. “So please, please, for my sake, keep this to yourself.”

Leona hesitated, then muttered, “I don’t think I want to go to any more raves after that.”

Quinn’s expression softened. “I get it,” she said gently. “What happened was awful. But I promise, it won’t happen again. I’ve been going to raves for years. Sure, people get into fights, but not with superpowers!”

She raised a finger, her tone brightening in an attempt to lighten the mood. “And hey, this is one of those classic ‘get back on the horse’ situations. You can’t let one bad experience ruin it for you. Come to the next one with me—forget the bad vibes from tonight.”

Leona let out a sigh, shaking her head uncertainly. Though she still wasn’t sure raves were her thing, this was her last chance to see her sister perform before she went off to college. Through that lens, the decision became clearer.

Her hands balled into fists at her sides, and she straightened her spine. Fear wouldn’t control her. She wouldn’t let it.

Courage wasn’t the absence of fear. It was acting despite it.

“All right,” she said softly. “One more.”

Quinn’s face lit up with a grin. “That’s my girl.”

And so, a week passed. There they were again—this time at a warehouse, same kind of a scene. By some miracle the local news had reported the incident as having happened “at an abandoned gas station that kids were hanging out at”. Since Goonie didn’t connect the first metahuman attack in San Isidro since Gravitas to their rave adventure, the girls wouldn’t be forbidden from leaving the house for the rest of their lives, let alone going to another rave.

Ahead of the sisters loomed a hulking, abandoned building, now throbbing with energy. Music blasted from within, loud enough to send ripples dancing across the small puddles that dotted the uneven asphalt outside. To the side, a cluster of neon-lit, tricked-out cars gleamed in the dim glow of streetlights, their drivers lounging nearby, laughing and gesturing as they showed off their rides.

Out front, a long line of ravers swayed and chatted, the anticipation crackling in the air as they waited for their turn to pass through the heavy entry doors. The sisters moved towards the buzzing throng, the bass vibrating in Leona’s chest even at this distance.

Unlike the last fiasco, this rave had proper security. Big, intimidating guys with earpieces and no-nonsense expressions patrolled the edges of the gathering, their presence enough to keep potential troublemakers in check.

“See?” Quinn nudged Leona with her elbow as they approached the building. “Told you—safe as houses. They’ve got their shit together this time.”

Leona gave a faint nod, her gaze drifting over the crowd. Some glowing cat-like ears poking out over someone’s head caught her eye for a moment before a large muscled guy got in the way. 

She wanted to believe Quinn, and maybe she did. Still, unease lingered in her chest, stubborn as a bruise. Would another meta gifted person appear?

At least the place promised an unforgettable night, one way or another. The ravers were buzzing while waiting, the excitement tangible. Tonight’s headliner was a dubstep prodigy, someone whose beats had been hyped to the heavens.

Yet far away, far removed from the pulsing music and eager faces, the foundations of Leona’s life were being shaken. Thousands of miles northeast, in the shadow of majestic, snow-draped mountains, the seeds of profound events were being sown.

Above a lonely, windswept graveyard, two super-powered titans clashed in the sky, their battle fierce and unrelenting. The sound of their blows reverberated off the jagged peaks, a deadly symphony that echoed into the night.