Yuri sighed and put a hand to his forehead. "Honestly, Barnaby, what about it?"
"Everything that I know is from what Kaede told me. She said you do fire like Lunatic's."
Yuri glared at him. "Three people learn about my power, and now all of you have connected me to Lunatic. Do you know what Kotetsu said? He said, and I quote, 'I wish Lunatic could meet you.'"
Barnaby stared and finally stammered, "Why?"
"That was my reaction exactly." Right down to the timing and intonation, which is a little creepy. "Apparently he thought we'd ... bond, I suppose, over having the same power. Barnaby, when you met Kotetsu, you both had the same power. Did you bond over that?"
"Hardly. We couldn't stand each other at first. I thought he was old-fashioned and preachy—just an interfering nag who was all reflexes and no brain. He thought I was a stuck-up kid. Looking back on it, I guess I was. It didn't matter to us what our powers were."
"I don't think meeting someone with a similar power would make much of an impression on Lunatic, either. He's a single-minded vigilante. I didn't come here to talk about my power."
Barnaby looked so disappointed that, despite himself, Yuri felt the beginnings of sympathy. Reflecting on the matter, he finally said, "You aren't like Kotetsu. You don't unearth details about people's private lives so you can do favors they don't want. I don't want to discuss my power—make no mistake, I don't—but you're not a man to do things from idle curiosity. Why has this become a topic for research?"
"Because your power makes you as close to Lunatic as I can get. I had hoped that learning more about your power—even some insignificant detail—might give some insight, or some clue, into how to get the better of him."
"You're not a Hero anymore." Yuri tried not to say this too harshly, but he couldn't keep the edge out of his tone. "Leave Lunatic and his ilk to the people who—"
"I know that! Damn it, Yuri, I know that. It's not that simple. Lunatic isn't just another criminal. He's ... this is personal."
"What did he do to you that's worse than what he's done to the Heroes at large?"
"He tried to kill me." If Barnaby hadn't been wrapped up in his memories, he would have noticed how Yuri stiffened and edged away, unease creeping into his expression. "He tried to kill Ivan, he tried to kill me—he even tried to kill Kotetsu. None of us are murderers. And I've never heard of Lunatic trying to kill anyone else who wasn't, unless you count Edward Keddy." Barnaby's voice went lower as he added, "Edward made a mistake, and I know he was convicted as a murderer, but I don't think what he did was really murder. Maybe it was murder in Lunatic's eyes, but that doesn't explain his trying to kill the rest of us."
"No," Yuri said softly. "I ... remember the reports all of you made of that incident."
"So do I," Barnaby said dryly. "I had to revise mine twice because they wanted more details. Hardly anything was known about Lunatic back then, so when he took on Heroes directly, we were supposed to remember and report everything if there weren't cameras recording it. I think Kotetsu had to write his report seven or eight times over before the higher-ups decided he'd done it right."
"It was valuable information." Yuri's tone was still quiet. "As you say, very little was known about Lunatic then. Indeed, very little is known now."
"And that's why I'm asking you. I'm not a Hero anymore, but I can't let go of the fact he tried to kill me. I've got to know. I've got to try to find out more so that someone can get him behind bars." Barnaby's hand drew itself into a fist that trembled with the force of his anger. "I can't just drop this."
Yuri also found the memory of the incident disturbing. He'd never had the sweetest of tempers, but in his role as Lunatic, he was the embodiment of Justice. Only if he set aside his personal feelings could he be assured his flames would find their rightful targets. Edward Keddy's had been a marginal case, and that in itself should have served as warning that the boy was better left alone. Like Barnaby, Yuri was reluctant to call his action murder. At the time he'd made his escape, Yuri had told himself that Keddy had been given less than a life sentence as a nod to his youthful bad judgment, and when that mercy wasn't good enough for him, he'd proven he didn't deserve it—didn't deserve to live. Even then, however, Yuri had realized, in whatever passed for his heart, that he was rationalizing. Edward Keddy was a coward who had shown a reckless disregard for both Hero Academy rules and the rule of law, but he was no murderer: only a young NEXT who had wanted to fight evil and brought death instead.
The story was too familiar, and Yuri quickly turned his attention to the others he'd targeted that night. It might have been wrong to take out his frustrations on Ivan—poor little fool, he wasn't defending young Keddy because of his past misdeeds—and it certainly had been wrong to take them out on Barnaby Brooks Jr. Brooks was also a fool in his own way, but not in a way that made it appropriate for him to perish in Lunatic's flames, and if Yuri hadn't been wrapped up in his own anger, he would have realized that and withdrawn. But his blood was up: he'd been foiled once, and his flames demanded satisfaction. When Brooks hesitated in the face of that blue fire, Wild Tiger had pitted himself against the flames of Justice. Being fought to a draw by the most idiotic of the Heroes had stung even worse than the damage to his mask. For weeks Yuri had told himself that the contest had come about only because Brooks couldn't keep his wits about him and mind his own damned business. Wild Tiger had struck the blow, but the fault was his partner's, and Yuri had spent far too many nights brooding over his sheer detestation of the newest Hero. Of course he smiled his unctuous smile when he encountered Brooks in the course of performing his job; that was what it took to cover the fury that the man's meddling inspired.
Then the affair of Jake Martinez had been smeared across Hero TV's gaudy screens, and young Brooks's personal losses along with it. Whatever Brooks's failings, whatever his misdeeds, he didn't deserve to have something so private and painful introduced as part of the circus that was Hero TV. The way Maverick had exploited Yuri's childhood loss was bad enough, but it was at least their dirty little secret, and Yuri had been a teenager when the business had begun. Barnaby had lost both his parents when he was so terribly young—too young for swearing vengeance, too young for anything but grief and fear—and Yuri suspected that Maverick played no small role in whatever course Barnaby had adopted that landed him the job of Hero. Yuri still resented the man, but he couldn't hate him, not after that, and his habit of mentally burning him in effigy was doused as if by a pool of blood.
Yuri yanked himself back to the present. "Why not go to Fire Emblem? Fire is his power too."
"It's not blue like Lunatic's. We know Lunatic is capable of hotter flames than Fire Emblem can produce. Lunatic also can use his flames to fly. Fire Emblem can't do that."
"I don't know why you think I can. I don't know why you think my power has more than the most superficial connection to Lunatic's."
"It's all I have to go on. Can you fly like Lunatic, Yuri?"
Yuri had a feeling that lying, in this particular instance, could come back to bite him. He sighed. "Yes. Yes, I can. And before you ask why I didn't say so outright at first, it's because I. Do. Not. Want to discuss my power. It is not a congenial topic. It never has been. I've gained some proficiency with it just to keep my sanity. I was afraid of it ... I was too frightened to release it for years. And finally ... I don't know. It was something that was mine when the rest of my life was out of my hands. It's mine." Yuri looked both defensive and proud. "Something I can call my own. I ... even so, it's dangerous. I'm not afraid of it any more, but it still has bad associations for me. I have no confidence I'm safe if anyone else knows about it."
"I'm sorry." Barnaby looked down. "It's hard for me to imagine it being such a sore spot, I guess because I was never ostracized for being a NEXT. But I know a lot of people have suffered just for having NEXT powers."
"Not just have. It's one of those things that crops up in human-interest bits of journalism, about children getting bullied for being NEXTs—or at least that's the excuse their tormentors use. Wasn't there something in the news just a couple of days ago about a boy who could reshape glass?"
Barnaby nodded. "I remember that. He was able to pull glass out of school windows and mold it onto the bullies' bodies. Last I heard, he'd been suspended for fighting because of that."
Yuri drew in a breath. "I hadn't heard that part. For defending himself? That's sad. Not surprising, but sad."
"Were you bullied for being a NEXT?"
"Do you think I was stupid? Nobody at school knew I was a NEXT."
Barnaby raised a placating hand. "It's not always a choice for kids. It can take a while to learn to control your power."
Yuri took a deep breath and let it out. "Yes, that's true. In any case, my power wasn't an issue when I was a child."
"When did it awaken?"
"Knowing that isn't going to tell you anything about Lunatic's abilities."
Barnaby smiled. "Point taken. Just one more question. Kaede told me that you were with her and Kotetsu on an asphalt roof. She said you made a really tall circle of fire to protect the three of you, and you kept it there for what, five or ten minutes?"
"I had things to think about besides looking at my watch, but it might have been five minutes. A very long time for Kaede to keep her arms in the air controlling fire, but not all that long in absolute terms. Anyway, why?"
"I wondered what kind of damage it did to the roof—if there was any danger of it collapsing under you because you burned a hole in it."
Yuri shook his head. "I was holding the fire."
"Holding?"
Yuri shrugged. "I don't have formal education in use of my power; if I'd gone to Hero Academy, maybe I'd describe it differently. I can—within certain limits—direct and control the flames. I was maintaining that circle of fire a little above the surface—not enough to let water pass, but enough to minimize exposure to heat for the surface under it. I should also note that the flames weren't that hot; all they had to do was boil water. If I'd needed real heat, it could have gotten complicated."
"But how do you do that? I mean ... how?"
"Hm. I don't know if I can explain it to someone who doesn't use the same power. I can tether the flames to my hands; that's easiest. If circumstances are favorable, I can do it with thought alone, but surrounded by water higher than my head, I didn't want to try that."
Barnaby seemed to be hesitating or mulling something over, and his words were a little breathless when he finally said, "Would you show me?"
"Oh, Barnaby, really."
"I'm curious."
"I can't very well do something like that in your apartment."
"Maybe a small version? Look, I've got this." Barnaby rose, crossed the room, and retrieved a glass end table that was clearly a companion to the coffee table: same two-shelf design held together by gold-tone legs. "I didn't really want it, but it came with the coffee table, and now I can't decide where I ought to put it. As far as I'm concerned, it's expendable. If it gets ruined, it's no loss to me."
"But a waste all the same. That's a good-quality piece of furniture, and it's brand new. Donate it to a thrift store if you don't want it cluttering up your digs."
Barnaby sighed. "Now that would be a waste."
Yuri slammed his fist on the coffee table, surprising both of them. "You've spent your entire life surrounded by luxury and with no need to worry how you'd be fed or clothed or housed, but that doesn't justify wanton destruction. I know what it's like to study on a plank for nearly a month after smashing a desk I couldn't readily afford to replace." Suddenly realizing what he'd said, Yuri glanced to the surface his fist still rested on, but the coffee table was made of sterner stuff than his old desk had been, and it showed no sign of impact.
"Ah ... okay." Barnaby stepped back slowly. Not long ago he might have simply said, "Whatever," but Yuri had won his respect, and he was willing to show it. "How about this. Sterndesign has a no-questions-asked thirty-day guarantee for furniture. If you ruin this, they'll provide a replacement, and I'll donate that anywhere you ask me to. If you don't ruin it, I'll still donate this anywhere you like."
Yuri experienced a brief and somewhat dizzying temptation to grab Barnaby by the back of the skull and smash his face into the picture window, which he was reasonably certain would withstand the impact just as the coffee table had. Rich people! That a store would eat the cost of a ruined table rather than expecting the purchaser to do so made it no less ruined and wasted; it simply diminished the store's bottom line and encouraged frivolous returns.
Then he reflected that he'd been buying silk shirts, wearing bespoke suits, and driving a BMW for years, so he really had no business thinking uncharitable things about rich people. Barnaby at least meant well, and Sterndesign was so far in the black it made the Mariana Trench look shallow. Yuri also knew that such a return policy had real marketing value: lose a little on frivolous returns, generate goodwill that increases the customer base by a degree of magnitude. Sterndesign might cater to wastrels, but they made it a shrewd business practice.
"I can't believe I'm letting you talk me into this," Yuri grumbled. "But I suppose as long as I keep the flames small and tethered, it's safe enough."
"Would you show me what happens if you don't?"
Yuri stared at him. "You really don't give a damn if I ruin it, do you?"
Barnaby gave him a challenging smile. "That's right."
Yuri sighed. "All right, all right. One custom tabletop defacement coming up." Yuri rose, and Barnaby stood back further still to give him room. "Here's how I do the tethered version." He put his palms together, and as he pulled them apart, blue flames appeared between them, scintillated briefly, then flashed forward to hover in a ring less than a hand's breadth over the glass surface. "There," said Yuri. "I'm holding them. The surface will get hot—too hot to touch, but not hot enough to melt. It takes a lot of heat to melt glass. Now look—see the tethers? It's all right if you come closer, if you want to."
Barnaby was nearly back to the opposite wall. He came only a few steps nearer and murmured, "Wow."
Yuri nodded. "Now that it's ... established, I don't have to remain perfectly stationary to hold it like that." He closed one hand and let it drop to his side, then slowly walked around the table, still keeping the other palm facing the flame. "I have some ... hm, mobility." He turned, momentarily placing his body between his palm and the flame, and walked back the other way. "And since it's tethered, I can pull it down easily enough." Just for a moment, he straightened his fingers, and all the flames vanished. "Note the tabletop. No damage. I really don't recommend you t—"
But Barnaby had already taken a few strides forward, put a finger in his mouth, and very quickly touched it to the surface of the table.
"Yes," said Barnaby. "Definitely hot."
"I should think so." Yuri contemplated the tabletop, while Barnaby watched him expectantly. "You really want me to go through with this?"
"Yes, really." And again Barnaby backed several steps away.
Yuri nodded and held his palms out again. "This is what happens when it settles on glass." Once again the flames shot forward, and a ring of flickering blue stood on the table's surface. "Let's turn up the temperature." His brows contracted, and the flames went pale at the base. There seemed to be a shimmer in the surface beneath them when the table made a loud CRACK and a fracture appeared, running from one side to the other. Yuri gasped, hands twitching wide. The flames vanished, and the two halves of the upper level fell onto the lower one with a loud clatter. Yuri stared. Barnaby chuckled.
"Damn," Yuri muttered. "That wasn't quite what I expected."
"It's okay."
"Since you considered the table expendable anyway, I suppose it is, but I'd hoped ... well, never mind."
"No, go on. What would you have done?"
"Melted the glass a bit," Yuri said quietly. "It's not as if I can sculpt it or anything like that. It just would have been more satisfying, I suppose, since the table would have been ruined anyway. On the other hand, this kind of damage is a lot easier to explain than something that looks like a blast furnace used it for a chew toy."
Barnaby smiled, though more as a reflex than because he found the idea of a blast furnace's chew toy particularly amusing. Walking back to the couch, he reflected that, in fact, he now had a good bit to smile about. It had taken some prodding, but Yuri had shared information about his power and even let Barnaby witness a tidy little manifestation of it. And it had been tidy—very tidy. Reluctance to discuss it notwithstanding, Yuri obviously liked using his power and had spent plenty of time refining his skill with it, something that also had to be true of Lunatic. Maybe he was like Lunatic in other ways. Maybe he—
Barnaby was just sitting down when he froze in mid-thought. Yuri hadn't come and taken tea with him to serve as some kind of living database, or as a stand-in for a crazed serial killer. It was a thing Barnaby still had some trouble wrapping his mind around, because the whole concept was so new to him, but Yuri had come ... as a friend. And even Barnaby knew that friends help friends, but making his interest in Yuri's power appear to be just a matter of intellectual curiosity—no, something even more innocent—had taken him onto the wrong side of a line.
