Liam liked the darkness that wrapped around him. The only thing that would make it better was if the beeping would stop. It was slow, but constant. It was annoying like Chinese water torture. His roommate was playing another cruel joke on him by waking him like this.

Then the buzz of voices grew louder and Liam could no longer ignore his roommate's rudeness. He was going to smack that drug addicted bastard. But his body wasn't responding to his command to wake up. His pulse sped up as he tried to fight off the sluggishness.

A voice rose above the others, shouting something about worthless idiots and not having enough money to pay hospital bills for freaks. Liam's heart skipped as he recognized his father's voice. A warm hand touched his forehead as his father continued to rant. The youth immediately calmed and struggled to get his eyes to open. He wanted to see his sister, make sure she was safe. He finally managed to crack open one eye, but it was a narrow view of the world.

It was enough. He saw Rheanna, her wide eyes staring down at him framed by a few lose strands of long platinum blonde hair. Those dark eyes held more knowledge than her fourteen years of life should have experienced. But she had a bruise forming over her left cheek. It was yellow and made the pale skin around it look even whiter. Liam felt a flare of anger.

"Shh," Rheanna whispered. "Calm down, big brother, it's not as bad as it looks. I wasn't paying attention when the class was playing American football a few days ago."

Liam took a deep breath to calm himself and winced. His entire body ached, but it was a dull pain, like he was almost healed.

"Hey, Princess." Liam's voice was rough sounding and only just above a whisper.

Rheanna smiled a little, her face lighting up. "You shouldn't pick fights with Vahzilok," she said, her voice still low enough so no one else would hear. "But the doctor says you're healing well. You should be able to leave by tomorrow."

"Rheanna! We're leaving!"

The girl jumped at the voice of her father. She leaned down and kissed Liam's cheek, promising to return later. She disappeared from his sight and Liam heard the retreating footsteps of his family.

Liam closed his eyes tightly, doing a mental checklist of his mobility. His right arm was immobilized and the twisted ankle was splinted. He had no idea how he had ended up in the hospital, but he suspected that his attempt to go home and sleep off the fight with the Vahzilok had ended in failure.

"So you're finally conscious, Mr. Conner."

Liam opened both eyes this time, the sharp jab of pain from the lights making him wince. The doctor came into focus and looked down at Liam, then at the clipboard in his hand.

"Do you know where you are?" the doctor asked.

Liam lifted a silvery eyebrow and gave the doctor his best "are you kidding me?" look. The doctor stared back, patiently waiting for Liam's answer. The young man just wanted to be healed so he could go home and sleep.

"I know I'm in a hospital, not which one," Liam snapped, glaring at the doctor. "Kind of the problem when one city has a bloody hospital on every block."

"Not every block," the doctor said casually as he wrote something on the clipboard. "And I see that Detective Brogan was right in saying you would wake up with an attitude and a glare. He said that it would be a sign that you are recovering well."

"Don't forget that I'll demand a smoke break," Liam muttered only half jokingly.

"Yes, he mentioned that as well," the doctor sighed.

Liam pulled in a lungful of air, noting that his breathing was a little easier. In fact, his whole body seemed better.

Or maybe it was the painkillers.

"It seems your mutation is helping you heal much faster than a normal human," the doctor said.

Liam's dark eyes widened then narrowed with anger. "What?" His voice was sharp and quiet. He didn't want to believe what his ears had heard.

"Your mutation is causing your body to heal rapidly, though only a little faster than normal. I've seen the heroes classified as Regenerators heal faster."

Liam didn't want to hear any more. He didn't want to be a freak of nature. He wanted to leave. He wanted to hit the doctor for even suggesting such an absurd idea, but he knew that wasn't the right thing to do.

"Your heart is abnormally large, but resilient," the doctor continued, checking the monitors as their readings fluctuated. "And even though Detective Brogan mention that you've been smoking for as long as he's known you, your lungs have no tar buildup in them. I'd say you were a pretty fit young man, considering."

"I'm a mutant?"

Liam heard the unsteady tone in his voice. He didn't like that, but he hated the fact that he may have mutant powers. It sickened him to think that his hard earned reputation in the streets of London and Paragon were helped by something other than his own determined strength.

His title as King of the London Underground was nothing. He was a mutant. His strength was not his own.

He didn't notice when the doctor left. He only knew he was alone.

It wasn't raining that night, but it was wet. The moisture hung in the air like a haze that kept people inside their homes. Liam Conner hunched his shoulders against the chill; the torn and patched denim jacket he hid in did little to keep the cold, wet air from touching him. The dim streetlights barely kept the darkness at bay. With his breath coming out in white clouds, the youth moved through the alleys with the confidence that no one would mess with him. It was a confidence with merit since Liam had spent a year in the Silver Ravens street gang. In that time he had worked his way up from lackey to his position as the right hand man of the leader, Sean "The Fist" Morris.

Liam had been unbeatable in that year. The fights others started with him ended with him as the victor. The other gangs who had heard his reputation tried to challenge him, but they had learned quickly to leave him alone. He had faced every challenge with an iron will and rage filled strength.

So Liam walked the streets and alleyways with little concern for being challenged. Anyone dumb enough to do so would be taught the reason why he was the number one fighter in the gang. But it seemed unlikely that anyone would challenge him this night.

Still Liam didn't let his guard down. Any small sound put him on alert. His eyes kept moving from side to side, searching the shadows. He was a good fighter, but that wouldn't matter if someone knifed him in the back.

As Liam turned into an alley from the road, he found an older man surrounded by the members of the Raven's allies in the White Tiger gang. Liam's dark eyes widened when he saw the Tigers—their gang marked by the white and black striped handkerchiefs tied around their arms, legs, or heads—were lying on the ground, groaning in pain. The man who had obviously defeated them stood above one, brushing off the sleeves of his leather trench coat.

"You are foolish to advertise your lack of expertise in fighting," the stranger said.

He turned to walk away. Liam stared after him until one of the Tigers saw him.

"Conner! Take him out!"

Liam knew he was in a tight spot. Even though he didn't really care about the politics of gangs, if he didn't avenge the fallen Tigers, a war could break out between them and the Ravens. He hesitated only a moment before pulling his hands out of his pockets and dashing toward the stranger. He drew back his fist to his shoulder and with a wild yell he punched the stranger in the back of the head.

Or he meant to. But Liam somehow missed his target and his fist flew past the man's shoulder. Liam tried to pull back before he could be thrown, but he was too slow. The man grabbed his extended wrist and threw the youth to the damp ground. Liam landed hard on his back with a grunt that left his lungs empty. He quickly regained his breath and grabbed the man's hands that were still on his wrist with his free hand.

He yanked the man's body down, folding his body to kick up at the stranger's face. The move would have crippled any normal man, but this stranger had already proved to be more than normal. When Liam's boots connected with the man's chest, instead of knocking the man back it sent a jarring jolt down Liam's legs. The man didn't budge.

Liam knew he was in trouble. He quickly pulled his legs back, using his momentum to get to his feet and throw the man over his shoulder. But the man wouldn't be thrown. He let go of Liam as the youth prepared to mimic the maneuver that had brought Liam to the ground. Liam stumbled forward but caught himself and turned, prepared to defend himself. But the stranger was standing calmly in the dim light.

Liam grew angry. How dare this man mock him? How dare he come to Raven and Tiger territory and insult the gangs by picking a fight? Liam reached deep into himself, finding that deep pit of rage he used when he felt that he would lose a fight. That was the key to his success. He pulled from that bottomless pit of anger and let it fuel his body into a frenzied strength.

The man seemed to grow wary as Liam looked up at him, the rage evident in his dark eyes face. The youth shot forward, moving faster than before. This time, when he punched, the man barely dodged and didn't block Liam's other fist, which was aimed toward his gut. The man staggered back against the alley wall and a cheer from the Tigers went up.

But Liam wasn't listening to them. He was concentrated on the numb feeling in his hand. Was this guy made of bricks or something? Liam felt as if he had punched a solid stone wall. He drew back and aimed his fist toward the man's face.

The stranger moved his head to the side an instant before Liam's knuckles would have crushed his nose. Liam's fist met the brick wall behind the man's head. The youth's fist, fueled by his rage, put a jagged crack in the wall where it had connected. Liam's fist, however, went completely numb and useless. He winced, trying to will away the pain that shot up his arm. He couldn't even feel his fingers.

And then stars exploded in his vision. Liam staggered back, his ears ringing. He saw the ground, and wondered how he had gotten there. A familiar sensation made the side of his head throb. It took him a moment to realize what that feeling was. Oh yeah, that's pain. That's the pain I feel when the sperm donor gets drunk and decides to smack us around.

Liam pushed himself up on his hands and knees, dark eyes struggling to focus on the dark figure standing a few feet away. He staggered against the wall of the alley when he finally got his feet under him. His knees still felt a little wobbly, but he shook it off and forced himself to stand without support from the wall.

"You should have stayed on the ground, boy," the stranger said.

Liam's dark eyes narrowed behind the curtain of damp white hair. He curled his hands into fists—though his right hand didn't hold as tightly as his left—prepared to fight once more. The man in front of him smiled a little.

"You are either stubborn or stupid," he said.

The muscles in Liam's legs tensed with preparation. "I get that a lot."

The youth shot forward, throwing his fists toward the man with reckless fury. The man blocked most of the strikes, but the few punches that managed to find marks fed the flames of Liam's rage. His vision narrowed until he could only see the vital spots in the man's body and his fists trying to strike those places with little luck.

The man was on the retreat. Liam knew that his flurry of punches was putting the man off balance and soon it would be time to strike. But Liam also knew he had to find that opening soon or he would run out of energy and let his guard down.

The man didn't seem to tire though. Liam forced himself to keep up the barrage of attacks, but he felt himself slow considerably until he finally staggered forward, carried by the momentum of his punch. The stranger stepped back as Liam fell to his knees and kicked the youth in the stomach.

Liam doubled over, coughing and spitting out blood. He felt as if he had been kicked by a horse. He was sure at least one of his ribs was broken but he forced himself to ignore the injury until he could take care of it, preferably when the man who had kicked him was a bloody mess on the ground. It took Liam longer to recover and force himself to sit up. When he did, the man was still standing over him, staring down with a strange look on his face.

"A good fighter knows when to stay down," the man commented.

Liam growled at the agony pulsing through his body as he fought to stand. The moment he made it to his feet, he was sent to his back by a stunning blow. He tasted blood as he lay on the ground, trying to focus on the gray sky above him.

He wondered why the Tigers who had begged him for help and cheered him on when they thought he was winning weren't helping him. The brief notion of demanding their heads on a platter crossed Liam's mind until he heard a noise. He opened his eyes, unaware of when he closed them. He saw the pale face of the stranger fill his vision.

"You are an uncouth and untrained fighter," he said. "But you have potential. Anger is your power; your strength is your will. You are being wasted here."

Liam's eyes fought to keep focus. But it was a loosing battle. His body was exhausted and sore. The man's smile was the last thing he saw before the darkness enveloped him.

A mutant. He was a freak of nature. Liam's scowl focused on a civilian passing by the stairs in front of Paragon City Hall in Atlas Park. The poor businessman who passed by the British youth at the wrong moment quickened his pace and fled from sight. Liam winced as yet another new hero passed him by, and headed into the City Hall to talk to a representative. The new heroes were easy to spot with their flamboyant coloring and tights. Liam looked positively drab in his blue jeans and white t-shirt. His signature leather trench coat draped over his legs.

Three hours had passed since he had sat down on the stairs in front of City Hall at the urging of Detective Brogan. Three hours since he had registered to be a hero and stepped out for a minute to take a smoke break. He had already gone through half of the new pack of Djarum Blacks he had bought when the smoke shop had opened. Smithy, the owner, had not been pleased to see him until he apologized. Since Liam had broken the window, Filters had been a hotspot for thieves. Fortunately the Hellions and Skulls had been thwarted by the Longbow patrolling the area and a few heroes who happened to be passing by. But Liam got the feeling that Smithy wouldn't forgive him until he paid off the bill for the new bulletproof window that would be installed by that afternoon.

Liam sighed and lifted his hand to his lips, carrying a cigarette to his mouth for another drag. Only two days after waking from the comatose state he had been in from the fight with the Vahzilok he had healed completely. He had spent the next day in jail while Detective Brogan talked with Smithy and got Liam a deal for release. That night, Liam had gone home to find his roommate had thrown a party and trashed the apartment and the landlord was threatening to throw them out. The British youth had gotten fed up with his Superadine addicted roommate and turned the man in. The police had been glad to take him away and even thanked him. Unfortunately, Lieutenant Roan had been one of the Longbow who had been dispatched to help contain the unruly thug and had overheard the officer's thanks. He apparently reported it to Detective Brogan, who had promptly appeared at Liam's doorstep with the crazy idea that he should do some good and prove himself as an asset to the city by registering as a hero. Liam had been reluctant, but after some prodding from the detective he had finally given in and said he would register as a hero.

"Villain would be more like it," Liam muttered. But he had already registered as a hero so he would be one. It was about time for him to build up his reputation once more. The name he had earned as a King of the London Underground needed dusting off and put to use. Rebel Rumbler would be legend in Paragon City, as it had been on the streets of London.

Besides, Detective Brogan had mentioned he would be paid for his services. It was all commission, but Liam could live with that. He had had far worse than commission before.

The British youth sighed and flicked his cigarette into the pot of fire next to the stairs. He stood and pulled on his coat, even though the day was nice and sunny. He sighed as he remembered he had been given an assignment by his first "contact" from City Hall. The man, Antonio Nash, from the G.I.F.T. section had told him to clear up some Hellions from a warehouse on the west side of the Atlas Park district.

Liam finally made it to the warehouse, after getting lost and finding himself confronted by a group of Clockwork, mechanical beings under the leadership of something called the Clockwork King. When he finally got away from them, he had run too far from the warehouse indicated on the electronic map he had received from the person he had registered with. He finally made it back to the warehouse about twenty minutes later, taking a scenic route as to not disturb any more Clockwork. He took a moment for a smoke break before entering the warehouse, cracking his knuckles and preparing to send some Hellions to jail.