(AV) A CHANCE TO PROVE HIMSELF

Eric Pelham knew he wasn’t the first name that came to mind when people thought of New Wave. Or the second. Or the fifth. Or even the ninth. But he’d learned to live with that.

Mostly.

Sure, he was a hero. He’d inherited a power set almost identical to his mom’s and older sister’s. He showed up to every interview they dragged him to, smiled for the cameras even when his cheeks ached, and said the right words about family and continuing their legacy. He stopped muggings, volunteered at soup kitchens, posed for photo ops with rescued kids, and dutifully gave statements to the PRT when necessary.

But somehow, when the public thought of New Wave, they pictured Glory Girl’s invincibility and strength, or Panacea’s healing touch. They remembered Lady Photon’s energy blasts taking down dozens at a time, or Manpower’s explosive strength coming in handy at disaster sites. Even Fleur, gone for four years now, was talked about with more awe than him.

They didn’t think of him.

And yes, it grated on his nerves more than he’d ever admit. Because he wasn’t some rookie still figuring out how to use his powers. He’d triggered younger than any of them, and had trained to master every nuance of his abilities before he’d even hit puberty. His two secondary powers were relatively weak, but his force fields were the strongest in the family, and malleable to boot. 

So when he saw the news about the new villain, a bug-themed killer who’d taken down Lung of all people, he didn’t feel fear.

He felt a spark of hungry hope.

This was his chance.

A chance to prove himself. To show the city that he could end a threat before it got worse. To earn the kind of recognition that made news anchors say his name with respect instead of an afterthought behind his parents and cousins.

He wasn’t trying to be arrogant, either. He knew how it looked: a solo New Wave member chasing down a parahuman the PRT themselves seemed hesitant to confront publicly. But what was the alternative? Letting this insect-controlling menace get comfortable enough in the city to start recruiting and build her own gang? Or worse, kill again?

No. He’d rather risk being called reckless than sit back and let another villain slip through the cracks.

He perched on the edge of his bed, sunlight filtering through the curtains as the morning news played in the background. Lung’s death was on every channel: experts speculated; heroes declined to comment; and talking heads debated whether this ‘bug cape’ was a cape-killer in the making.

Eric clenched his fists until his knuckles ached.

He knew better than most how bad things could get if villains were allowed to roam unchecked. His mother had drilled that lesson into him practically from the moment he could walk. That heroes acted, that they stopped threats before they spiraled out of control. That was what New Wave was supposed to stand for: heroes with nothing to hide, fighting openly so the city wouldn’t live in fear.

So why wasn’t anyone going after her or publically calling her out?

He stood, raking a hand through his hair, and made a mental note to re-dye his roots. Then, he grabbed his visor from its stand and tucked it under his arm. 

He’d patrol near the Dockworkers’ old haunts, where Lung had fallen. If this bug villain was as dangerous as everyone feared, they’d come back to secure the territory they’d won. Or maybe just to gloat. Either way, he’d be there, ready.

He would stop them. He would show the city he wasn’t just a background cape in the New Wave roster. He’d be the hero who brought down the monster before it had the chance to truly become one.

And for once, when people spoke of New Wave, his name would be the first out of their lips.