CHAPTER ONE: THE TRIGGER EVENT

Greg Veder was having what he could only describe as the worst day of his life, and considering his usual streak of social disasters and unrelenting mediocrity, that was saying something.

It had started normally enough. A quick stop at a corner store on his way home from school. Chips, a soda, maybe a pack of gum. Nothing that screamed "life-threatening situation." And though Brockton Bay wasn't great, most days, you could get away with pretending things were normal. Unfortunately for him, he would be in the worst possible place: right in the middle of it.

He'd been standing in the snack aisle, debating between sour cream or barbecue chips, when he first heard the shouting outside. Angry, loud voices. He froze, instinctively peeking through the dusty front window. A group of ABB gangsters, dressed in their red and green, were squaring off with a man in a black leather jacket. There was something about the guy—the duffel bag at his feet, the casual stance, and the way he wasn't even flinching at their threats—that made Greg's stomach twist.

This was not going to end well.

"Not good," Greg muttered, backing toward the counter.

The first shot rang out before he made it two steps. Glass shattered, and the cashier dove behind the register, yelling for everyone to get down. Greg hit the floor hard, heart pounding as more shouts and gunfire erupted outside.

He should've stayed put, just curled up and waited for it to be over. But no, because Greg Veder was Greg Veder, and his luck was terrible.

Another gunshot cracked through the air, and a second later, the front wall of the store exploded.

Greg barely registered the shockwave before he was thrown backward, colliding with a shelf of canned goods and sending its content tumbling around him. Groaning, he pushed himself up, his ears ringing and thoughts disoriented. Through the haze of dust and debris, he saw the lone man from outside stepping through the wreckage. His jacket billowed in the wind as fire danced in his palms.

Greg's stomach dropped. It wasn't just some thug; it was a cape.

"Get out here, you ABB cowards!" the man roared, his voice carrying over the crackle of flames. "You want to mess with Burnout? Come take your shot!"

Greg shot to his feet, ignoring the ache in his side. He couldn't stay here, couldn't be caught in whatever fight was about to go down. He stumbled toward the back exit, his breaths coming in shallow gasps.

The door burst open before he reached it.

An ABB enforcer stepped inside, a machete glinting in his hand. The man's eyes locked onto Greg, narrowing in murderous intent.

"Hey, hey, I'm just a kid!" Greg stammered, raising his hands. His voice cracked as he backed away.

The enforcer didn't respond.

Greg's thoughts scrambled. No one was coming to save him. No heroes were here. It was just him and the guy with the machete. And if he didn't do something—

The man lunged.

In the blink of an eye, everything changed.

Greg didn't know how to describe it. One second, the blade was inches from his chest. The next, the world stretched like a slow-motion video. Colors sharpened, sounds dulled, and an unbearable pressure built in his chest.

Then, something inside him snapped.

A searing pain ripped through his skull, so intense his knees buckled and he almost collapsed. He clutched his head, barely aware of his own screams, as a torrent of unfamiliar sensations poured into his mind.

And then, amidst the chaos in his mind, a voice: female, commanding, and full of urgency.

"Get down!"

"What—?" Greg started, but another voice cut him off.

"Stop talking and move, idiot!" This one was brash, aggressive, and completely uninvited.

Without thinking, Greg threw himself to the side. The machete missed him by inches, biting into the wall instead.

"What's going on?!" Greg shouted, his voice rising in panic.

"You're about to die unless you listen to us!" snapped a third voice, calm but tinged with an edge of irritation.

Greg didn't have time to process the fact that voices were yelling at him from inside his own head, or to argue. His body moved on instinct, his legs carrying him faster than they ever had before, and he somehow slipped past the enforcer and bolted for the alley outside.

"Okay, what the hell is happening?!" Greg yelled as he ran.

"You're in danger, genius!" chirped a fourth voice, this one high-pitched and enthusiastic, like a cheerleader who had way too much caffeine. "But don't worry, we've got this!"

Greg didn't know who "we" was. He didn't know anything anymore. He stumbled into the alley, his heart pounding as he glanced over his shoulder.

The enforcer was following, and he wasn't slowing down.

"You need to fight back!" the brash voice shouted.

"Fight? I can't—" Greg stopped mid-sentence as his hand instinctively clenched into a fist. A strange heat surged through him, pooling in his chest, and before he knew it, his feet skidded to a halt. He spun to face his pursuer.

"Use your Semblance," said the calm voice.

"My what?" Greg demanded.

"Just trust me!"

The enforcer lunged again. Greg didn't think; he reacted. His fist connected with the man's chest, and suddenly, there was a burst of power. The enforcer was thrown backward like a ragdoll, slamming into a dumpster with a loud clang.

Greg stared at his hand, wide-eyed. "What the hell?"

"Okay, that was awesome," the energetic voice said, giggling.

"Focus, Ruby," the calm voice snapped.

Greg didn't get a chance to ask who Ruby was, because footsteps echoed from the alley entrance as more ABB thugs arrived.

"You need to move," the commanding voice said firmly. "Now."

For once, Greg didn't argue.

Adrenaline carried him through the maze of alleys, the voices barking instructions in his head. By the time he stopped, his chest was heaving, and his legs felt like jelly.

"What... what is happening to me?" Greg whispered, pressing his back to a brick wall and sliding down to sit.

"You unlocked your aura," said the calm voice.

"And we're here to help," the energetic one added.

Greg groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Help? You're in my head—I'm losing my mind!"

"Hey! Focus!" the first voice, the commanding one, snapped. "Yes, we can help you, but you need to listen to us, okay?"

"Who… who are you?" Greg asked, his voice shaky.

"Yeah, about that..." The brash voice hesitated.

"This might take a while to explain," the calm one finished.

Greg let out a shaky laugh, the sound half-hysterical. "Of course it will," he muttered, leaning his head back against the wall. His day had gone from bad to worse, and now, it seemed, his life would never be the same.