To yellow 14: That might be my favorite part of that chapter, when they're just casually talking about getting thrown off of buildings. And imagining the look of utter horror on Bob Roth's face while he finally realizes just how colossally he misunderstood this whole "hero trend"!

To Lyger 0: This story does bring out his "Chaotic Neutral" side a bit, doesn't it? :D He has a bit of that "fiercely loyal to his own but barks at strangers" thing going.

To A.K.U.M.A.: You summed it up very well there. In my opinion, ideally you will have all three types in a universe, though if all you have are the Roth-type characters, it's not nearly as satisfying as when you have someone more like Hawk Moth or Night Bat as the central antagonist. The Roths are fun to beat up on, but the Night Bats are the ones you really want to follow… he says in a note on a chapter told from XY's perspective. :D

To silent reader: I'm glad you are enjoying; thanks so much for your praise! I think your question got cut off, but I assume you were asking about Rose and Tyran-X. The answer is that I am definitely planning to continue with that storyline; I already have plans for at least 2 future story beats with that plot and room for more, though I haven't actually written them yet. I am going to focus a little more on minor characters over the next few stories – Kim, Alix, and Nathaniel all take bigger roles in a couple of the upcoming stories, and I'm planning out a Christmas anthology which will have a lot of the minor characters showing up (but don't get too excited; that might not be publish until February, given that the next 2 stories are set in October!).

To StarDaPanda225: "Now we put the happy little fans over in this corner. They're so happy watching our happy little concert while we bilk them for all their happy little money…" So funny story about Hitler and Night Bat being in the same room…

To Butterfly: I mean, you're not wrong…

The villains flew across Paris, XY dangling helplessly below them. He couldn't see who was holding him up, just that someone was carrying the one with the lasso. How did it get to this point? It had all seemed so much simpler a few months ago when his father had seen the sales figures for Jagged Stone's HeroeZ International Tour. Obviously superheroes were "in" right now, so the best way to boost sales was to jump onto that bandwagon. And what better way to corner the "hero market" than by rebranding as a bona fide hero himself? XY himself had been content to keep going as they were, but Father was the manager, Father knew the business, so Father got to make the decisions.

But, then, Stone pretended to be a hero and the people loved him for it; why couldn't XY do the same?

Considering how simple it had been to make himself out as a hero – wear a silly costume, put on a good show, and let the fans adore him – it had worked out fairly well for that first concert. The effects had certainly been convincing; even knowing what was going on, XY could almost have believed the "Atonaliens" (such a stupid name) were really there. The social media buzz afterward had been nothing but adoration from fans hoping that Xtreme tonalitY was going to be the new Hero of Paris. And when the Heroes of Paris themselves had shown up in his suite? You couldn't get any more convincing than to be seen talking to the actual heroes!

In retrospect, aiming for "convincing" might have been a bit of a mistake…

XY was not heroic! And if he hadn't been pretending to be something he wasn't, then he wouldn't be in this position, getting dragged across Paris by the ankle to who knows where by a group of monsters that would probably kill him when they found out he didn't actually have any of the superpowers he'd claimed to have! Why hadn't he been content with the fans and fame and fortune that came with being a world-famous musician? Why did he let Father push him into this stupid idea in the first place!? As XY stared down at the prospect of a 50-meter fall to certain death, hugging his turntable to his chest so it wouldn't fall off, he promised himself that if he somehow escaped from this situation alive, he would never be a self-centered asshole again.

But escaping from this situation with his life would probably be an issue.

XY had never bothered to learn the layout of Paris; as he flew over the Trocadéro he regretted that decision. The river was to his right, and they were already past the Eiffel Tower. Whoever was holding him up appeared to be making no move to keep him above the trees. He covered his face to avoid a tree branch – even still, the top of the tree brushed through his hair and whipped his cheek, setting him to swaying back and forth as they flew. He twisted slowly around, and suddenly he couldn't even see where they were going – or the tree that smacked him in the back. In his surprise he let go on his turntable and it fell off. With a cry he reached out and just barely managed to catch the strap with his finger before it was out of reach.

Finally the group of villains gained altitude to fly over the outside wall of a large deserted football stadium and stopped in the very center of the field. After so long suspended upside down, XY couldn't pull himself up to avoid splatting face-first into the turf when they dropped him the final meter to the ground. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, the turntable hugged tightly to his chest, to find the seven villains arrayed around him in a loose circle.

"You are certain no one will disturb us here?" Night Bat asked, not taking his eyes off XY.

Mecha-Man nodded. "Saint-Germain has a game at Dijon this weekend, so no one should be here – or at least not too many. Maybe a cleaning crew or something."

Night Bat nodded and fixed XY with a predatory look. "Now we shall see just what there is to this 'Xtreme tonalitY.' Will you be an asset to my group, or do you intend to be an enemy?"

The Deacon scoffed. "He doesn't exactly have that 'Heroes of Paris' attitude…"

"At this point, I have to agree," Mecha-Man added. "We've wasted enough time with him."

"True as that may be, we've got him here now," the Prior pointed out. "So if there really is anything to him, we might as well figure it out. After all, if he does join the Heroes of Paris, he could become a threat to us."

"Not much of a threat," Elettrisicario argued, poking XY in the side with his lightning rod. XY couldn't stifle a whimper.

Night Bat hummed contemplatively, brows knit deep in thought. "Perhaps he was intimidated by battling such a large group," he decided. "Bearator!" The guy in the tan bodysuit stepped forward. "Spar with him."

XY slid the strap of his turntable over his head, pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, and raised his fists in front of his chest. He had never been much of a fighter, but he did at least understand the basics from his last music video: keep his hands up and don't break a thumb. The group of villains spread out, creating an open ring about ten meters wide with XY and the Bearator in the middle.

The Bearator narrowed his eyes and dropped into a lower fighting stance, holding a hand claw in his right hand while leaving the other on his belt. "Let's do this," he said, stalking forward.

XY slowly backed away. "What do you want with me?" he demanded, not taking his eyes off the Bearator. He bumped into something hard and unyielding, and rough hands pushed him into the center of the circle, back toward the Bearator.

"With you?" The Bearator scoffed, feinting an attack. XY dodged to his right and lost his balance, stumbling and windmilling his arms to avoid falling. The Bearator stalked closer, sidestepping to circle around him predatorily. "I really don't want anything from you. All I want is something better for my family! Do you have any idea what it's like to grow up with nothing?" He was less than a meter away from XY when he drove his fist into XY's gut.

XY jumped as the punch connected, wheezing as the air was knocked from his lungs. He looked up into the cold blue eyes, tried to force air back in, gasping with the effort and cradling his stomach.

"No, of course you don't know what it's like," the Bearator agreed, eyes narrowing. He grabbed XY by the collar and held him up so his feet barely scraped the ground. A hand claw pricked XY's throat; he felt a trickle of blood run down his chest. "You had everything from birth, didn't you? You had money. You had privilege. You got a good education. You never had to worry about what you were going to eat." He pulled him down so their faces were centimeters apart. The turntable dug into XY's chest, the only thing separating him from the Bearator. His eyes widened in panic he couldn't hide. He was no more than a centimeter away from death. The Bearator's lip curled into a snarl. "You never had to deal with drug dealers camping out on your front stoop, did you?"

XY mustered his courage and punched the Bearator in the chest. The Bearator, however, didn't react; he continued to glare at XY. "Why are you doing this?" XY whispered, eyes wide with panic.

The Bearator shrugged and hurled XY across the circle into Mecha-Man, who caught him in his arms and pushed him back into the ring. "You want to know what I learned from growing up?" the Bearator asked him, eyes flashing with hatred. "You do what you have to do to survive. I didn't have your opportunities. My father wasn't a famous music producer; he was a soldier, and he died. A military pension doesn't go very far, and the best apartment my mom could find is in the bad part of town – you ever been there?" XY stumbled and fell to his hands and knees, his turntable scraping the ground under him. The Bearator loomed over him. "Of course not; you only ever drive through as fast as you can in your chauffeured limo, right? There are drug dealers on the streets. So I could either join the dealers myself or hide inside and wait for my kid brothers to get caught up in the life. Some choice, huh? But maybe, this way, my mom at least has a chance with them."

There was no way he would get out of here alive! He was going to die in some stupid football stadium because his father thought pretending to be a superhero was a good idea! XY scrambled to his feet and took the LP off his miraculously-undamaged turntable. His father had picked the turntable up from a thrift store to work into the costume as a prop, but at the moment it was about the only friend XY had. He shifted his stance and threw the disk at the Bearator, who raised his hand claw and almost casually batted it away into the ground at his feet before stepping on it and shattering it. XY swung the turntable around to one side and ran at the Bearator with a yell. Feinting a punch he kicked the Bearator in the knee, but the villain was prepared. The Bearator slid his leg out of the way at the last minute, and XY stumbled and fell to his knees, gasping. As the Bearator stood over him, XY shut his eyes, squeezing out the hot tears pooling up. There was no escaping the inevitable. He really was going to die.

The Bearator scoffed. "There really isn't anything else to you, is there? Just some dumbass musician who thinks the world only exists to adore you. And to think that I actually used to listen to your crappy music…"

XY's eyes shot open and he dove at the Bearator's legs. Caught by surprise, the Bearator stumbled backward to the ground and XY landed on top of him. XY straddled the villain's chest and started punching him in the face, but the Bearator caught XY's fist in his hand and squeezed. XY shrieked in pain and froze. The Bearator stuck his other hand claw in the turntable's strap, bucked XY off, and rolled backward to his feet. The strap broke and the turntable fell to the ground. The Bearator stomped it hard, smashing it to pieces. With a yell, the Bearator leapt into the air, both hand claws out and pointing at XY's face. XY cringed and screamed in terror, raising his arms to shield himself, knowing it was useless.

A green shield connected solidly with the Bearator's chest, knocking him back away from XY. The shield bounced off the ground, deflected off of Mecha-Man, and returned in the direction from which it had come.

A familiar voice clucked in disappointment. "Dude," it drawled. "It's always a tragedy when a vintage turntable bites the dust."

XY spun wildly to find his rescuer. It was the Heroes of Paris.