A certain green teenager burst through the ricketing plywood door. The wood was long warped and left slivers of light peeking into the small living space within. The place was basically a shack with working plumbing. Heavy creaks groaned out from the house settling into the bone-dry sandy ground that whipped up from the wind that whipped at the boy's face.

The sun battered down like a giant hammer slamming on nails into the surface of the Earth. The boy felt sweat swell on the fringes of his bushy black hair. The hair, infused with grease from over conditioning, shone like the rustic lacquer of the beat up Ford Pinto that sat on its axels with no tires over the amber dirt driveway towards the quiet desert street.

He trudged past the car out to the road. Just a mile from the main town square, he sunk his head into his shoulders to avoid the gaze of any other residents on the few homes surrounding the area. The desert was a lonely place to grow up, and having to stay with his bully of an older brother was no consolation.

Rolling up the sleeves on his tattered blue button down shirt, he thrust his hands into his pockets and walked. His brother always got him to walk to town for groceries, so he would sweat himself dry while building up his endurance. At least, thats what his brother called it.

The dust and dirt spat in his eyes as the hot wind seared at his skin. Anton grunted out and shook the specks of sand from his head; a few of them latching onto the tips of his hair.

He shuffled past a boarded up home with plywood covering the broken glass of the windows. The bottom of his obsidian shoes scrapped on the scattering pebbles from his walk. His toe poked out from the flap of fabric separated from the rubber frame. His family had long been pariahs in the small town; ushered out to the very outer limits of the single dirt road that dug into the main square and then trailed towards the dust mountains that loomed over the valley.

A humming refrigeration unit squeaked next to another wooden hut he walked by. His footsteps clacked on the pebbles of the road with his thin arms cooking in the swirling sauna of the desert heat. His mouth was already parched from the walk, and he grunted out when a few sand particles kicked into his eyes.

Anton rubbed his eyes out, his cracked skin scratching at his eyelids. His irises reddened like the hot ground below as he blinked away tears from the corner. When he opened them, he squinted from the bright dot in the corner of his vision. He rubbed at his eyes again, but the spot would not disappear.

Turning his head down, the light went away. Realizing it was not an issue with his vision, he peered upward at the infinite cerulean sky wrapping the world in a blanket. Above the Earth was a small white dot that burned through the atmosphere. It burled and zagged with a trail of bioluminescent green and yellow trailing behind it. If he had not noticed it, Anton would have figured it was just another twin engine plane in the sky.

He squinted and covered his eyes from the sun for a better look. It was a shooting star in the middle of the day. Perhaps a comet that had just entered Earth's atmosphere. With a nod, he stepped forward down the road again. A curious sight, but nothing of real consequence as long as it did not land on him.

"Pst. Hey, kid."

Anton whipped his head towards his left. He saw nobody there.

"Yeah, you. I'm talking to you."

Anton spun around with the grace of a drunk ballerina. He thrashed his head around to see where the source was.

"Don't worry, I'm not around you," The voice said.

The boy hugged himself and rushed backwards at the sound of the strange man. He yelped out when the back of his heel hit an abandoned tire. He toppled over the dead rubber and fell into the center of it. His arms ere raised upward as if he anticipated an attack of some kind.

"Listen, kid," The voice said. "I need you to do me a favor."

Anton bit his tongue. Wherever this man was, his voice battered through his brain as if he were standing right behind him. He had no idea what to do, so he hugged himself further.

"Listen. Behind you is an old house," the voice said. "I need you to go beyond that house into the desert."

The boy blinked. While the man did not sound dangerous, the suggestion gave him pause.

The voice sighed. "It's important. We're talking about the future of this planet, boss. Something just revealed itself in the salt flats by the Salton Sea. Obviously, we're only a mile or so away. So why don't you go over there so we can find out what it is?"

Anton had questions racing through his head like the buzzards that circled above. Who was this strange man? Why did he want him to go into the desert? The Salton Sea was a dead zone for anything that had gone into it. The water far to acidic and salty to support any life. Had he finally cracked.

Another sigh. "Listen, I know you have a lot of questions. But all the answers are over there by the Sea. If you don't hurry, we'll be as cooked as a poodle. So how about you give a disembodied voice a hand and be a good kid?"

Anton closed his eyes. The heat still sweltered, but his limbs had regained some energy from the strange source of the voice. He captured a hot breath and loosened up his arms. He pulled up and lurched himself to his feet before bumbling forward a few yards. When he spun on his heels, he saw the abandoned shack before him. Tilting his head to the side, he saw that the desert beyond him stretched over the horizon.

Anton closed his eyes again. It's not like he had anything better to do. After getting the groceries of lukewarm milk and vegan oatmeal, all he had to look forward to was his abusive brother.

"Anton, are you ready?"

Another breath.

"Anton? Are you listening? Are you listening?"

"Anton!"

The boy's eyes shot open and smacked his head on the back of the dresser. His skin much cooler with a hint of rosemary tickling his nose, he sat on the floor with Megan standing overhead.

"What is wrong with you? I read from the book and you just sleep? Rude."

Bam!

Megan jumped and twirled at the glass doors leading towards the balcony. On the door was a new smear mark that scuffed the surface.

Outside, Abel screamed at the clouds above like a raucous newborn as he gripped onto Drake's talons. Bursting laughter interrupted his screams as he soared through the air with Drake lugging him in tow. The crisp Oceanside wind sprinkled flecks of salt and sand through his coconut hair. A wide and maniacal grin on his face, Abel swung like a pendulum with Drake twisting around the corners of the schools rooftop with his wings flapping above his back.

"This is awesome," Abel yelled with another laugh bubbling out of his chest.

Drake rolled his eyes and did a corkscrew in the air for good measure. Abel yelped as he felt the world turn in front of his eyes. His brain thumped in his head and made him nauseous. He gagged on the influx of air rushing over his face when Drake returned upright. Abel gasped out for air with his fingers still gripped on the ends of Drake's sharp talons.

It was Abel that suggested Drake fly him around. Drake suspected the annoying and loud teen had just wanted to fly around for a bit. He got asked by many people to fly them back in Whittier, and he would always ignore them and turn away. Wit Abel, he knew the boy would be too persistent. However, Drake knew they could be working together in the Sports Festival, and he still needed to practice flying people as the situation saw fit.

Abel kicked out his legs and swung underneath Drake as they banked right by the main dorm windows. Abel's shoe skid over the glass of the sliding balcony door in front of one room. His leg picked back from the impact which left a smear mark on the surface.

Megan stormed over to the door and slid it open. She poked her head out and sneered at the soaring pair racing towards the cliff side behind the dorms.

"Watch where you're flying!" She shouted in the air. Megan raised a fist and shook it like an angry grandmother ushering kids off her lawn. Seeing the part-dragon kid and annoying Abel fly away, she slammed the window shut and turned back towards her room.

"Is there anyone more annoying than that wanker?" Megan asked.

Anton shrugged while he sat cross-legged on the rainbow carpet over the wooden floor. He was surprised at just how colorful Megan's room was. It was messier than what he expected with posters of various bands precariously pasted to the wall with their corners hanging limp threatening to fall. Her pink throw pillow sat on top of the black and red comforter with lightning bolts trailing down the fabric. Her standard plywood chair by her desk turned over on its side, Anton scrunched himself over the carpet and leaned back on the electric blue mini fridge that hummed in the corner next to an immaculate drum-set; it's cymbals gleaming under the tungsten light that waved with every turn of the fan it was installed within.

"This whole contest thing is bringing out the stupid in this class," Megan said as she sucked on a juice box and threw herself on her bed. She grabbed the thick book next to her and flipped open the front cover. The straw gave off a strong hiss with every pull from the drink before Megan gave off a dramatic sigh from the apple juice.

"I mean, I know I'm gonna probably win," Megan said. "But it would benefit everybody if they stopped being so wild about this. Don't you think?"

Anton folded his hands in his lap. "I don't care about competition."

Megan rested the book on her chest and craned her neck towards Anton. "Why wouldn't you? This could be your best chance to get attention. Get a good internship."

"I don't care about internships," Anton grumbled.

"Then what do you care about?" Megan asked. "Usually heroes care about something."

"Money."

Megan scoffed sat up while throwing her long legs over the side of the bed. "You don't strike me as a money person."

Anton smacked his lips. "What is this, an interrogation? It's none of your business what I'm in this for."

"I'm just trying to not be a wanker and learn more about my classmates," Megan said as she head towards the desk. She opened up a drawer and fumbled within scrounging through pencils and extra rulers. "We could be working together one day."

"I'd rather die," Anton said.

Megan frowned at the green boy and stopped her hands. She bit her lip in annoyance at the grump boy but decided it was not worth the fight. Finding what she needed, she grabbed a small book and carried it back to the bed. It appeared to be a diary of some kind with a pink hard cover and a golden lock on the center of the book. She set it down next to the thicker book that she and Anton took from the library the previous day.

"So, The Salton Sea Scrolls," Megan read out loud. Anton rested his head on the fridge and fumbled with a piece of lint on the hem of his black dress pants that matched his uniform. "Interesting stuff, huh?"

"I mean, you only got to the part where the guy saw the comet," Anton said. "Is there much else?"

Megan went towards the dresser Anton sat at and pulled the top drawer. She fumbled through some clothes as Anton scooted away from the site.

"Oh, so much more. I bet a lot more than there was in the book."

Anton rolled his eyes. "Is this stuff even real? Is this guy going to come across some angels that give him golden plates or something?"

"In a way," Megan said.

With a light gasp, she grabbed a small golden key underneath a pari of rolled up socks. She slammed the drawer shut and sauntered towards the base of the bed. She grabbed the diary and began to turn the combination on the lock.

Anton, confused as to what Megan was doing, returned to his spot by the dresser and crossed his arms. "So...what is the point of most of this? I mean, is this a story that you know about? Are you in some cult or something?"

Megan spat out a mirthless laugh. "No, no cult at all. You see, Anton. My father, Anthony, was a very powerful Pro-Hero in his time. Of course, most of that is gone, but before he retired, he took me out on a ride along. I guess that's what you Americans call it. I got to follow him around as he beat up a bunch of people. One day, we ended up getting an emergency call. Some fire in some kitchen. Boring stuff. However, when we strolled in, there was an odd situation. No fire or anything like that. Aha!"

Megan lined up the correct numbers and pressed a button on the latch. It popped open. She grabbed her key and shoved it into the lock. With a turn, she heaved open the book. Anton could not see anything within it from his angle, but Megan appeared to as she placed a finger on the surface and traced over what he assumed was the page.

"The next thing we know, we're in a strange cellar underneath a pub. I don't know exactly if we were woken up. Just blink! And we were there. And we learned a lot of things in that time. Mostly information. But we learned about how most of our society truly works. It's not nearly as glamorous or smart as it sounds, but it did give us a sense of urgency. It gave us a direction to go, a goal to follow.

Anton grunted out form impatience. "Look, Megan. I don't care if your a Mormon or a Scientologist or whatever. I appreciate it, but I'm not interested in whatever you're talking about."

Megan chuckled. "You dimwit. It's not about if you're interested. You already chose to be a part of it."

"Huh? I have-."

"Welcome to your orientation."

Before Anton could register what was happening, Megan pulled an object out of the diary. The book had a fake inside to conceal objects. This one, specifically, was a silver pistol-like weapon with a long dart that jutted out from the barrel. Megan raised it up and, without a second glance, pulled the trigger.

The dart lodges right into Anton's throat. Before he could shout from shock, his body slumped over and darkness overtook his vision. The last thing he remembered was his head slumping onto the floor as he fell forward. His head lolled to the side when his limbs twitched before the rest of his consciousness disappeared.

Once he passed out, Megan threw the dart gun onto the bed. She grabbed the phone in her pocket and pressed a number. Only one ring needed before a voice echoed over the other end.

"Hello, welcome to Ezekiel's Pawn Shop? Who do I have the pleasure?"

"It's Liberty. We got him," Megan said.

A beat.

"We'll be there in ten."

The diner is Santa Monica had not changed much since James had last sat there. The boy gave a tug on his collar as if to shake off the remaining memories of the sparkling confetti that painted his body when he last trudged through the shoddy red door to the restaurant. The plastic table was coated in a thin layer of grease that James traced on the grey hard top. His nose twitched in disgust at the small line his finger left on the table. The whole place reeked of bacon and fried food. Why this strange Japanese man had dragged him with this annoying Canadian and the two dumb lovebirds, he had no idea.

He stretched out his legs under the table, the tip of his dress shoes slashing at the thigh of the Canadian across from him.

"Ow!" Lloyd exclaimed as he massaged where James had kicked him. "James, that hurt."

"So sorry, manatee." James grunted out. "I didn't even know you were there.

Moxie ignored the fracas between the two and locked eyes with Shoto. It was strange as to why he had decided to check out her, Katsu and the other two on that day for lunch. She figured it would be high time for him to tell Katsu about his diagnosis. Despite that, she had no idea why the others had to be involved in this. Shoto had noticed that the girl kept looking at him, and he wandered his gaze to anywhere except at her. His spine shivered with the pair of grey eyes boring at him. Yet, he knew he wanted to make this memory decent for Katsu, and the boy who babbled on about the traffic outside at the Cajun girl next to him seemed happy enough. He would hate to spoil it.

"Alright, whatchu want," A middle-aged waitress with grease stains on her white apron strolled over and pulled out a pen from her bun of blonde hair and clicked it on a notepad. Without a glance at her customers, she patted the tip onto the paper and waited with half-lidded eyes like she was about to fall asleep.

"I really like the fired chicken here. Have you had the chicken?" Moxie turned to James to stop the argument.

"What you asking me for?" James spat at Moxie.

"She's trying to induce human interaction with you," Lloyd said. "Perhaps you should indulge."

"You think you're so smart with your big words, you ovulating oyster?" James grabbed a butter knife and pointed it at Lloyd.

"So you want the chicken?" The waitress scribbled in her notepad playing tic-tax-toe with herself.

"Is the chicken fried with lard or peanut oil?" Moxie asked.

The waitress paused and looked through her long eyelashes at Moxie. "Peanut oil."

"I just hate it if someone here were allergic to peanuts," Moxie turned to Shoto. "It's be a shame if something were wrong with someone and they didn't tell nobody."

Shoto blinked. Then, realizing what Moxie was getting at, crossed his arms in defiance. "Well, maybe the peanut oil is none of the other persons's business and they should learn to just let adults make their own decisions."

"They would if it didn't mean that not knowing about the peanut oil would cause someone a lot of pain." Moxie said.

"It's not," Shoto said. "Because having peanut oil only effects the person who can't have it. I'll take it," Shoto shot at the waitress.

"Okay," The waitress mumbled. "So one fried chicken breast an-."

"But if someone keeps that a secret, it could hurt someone," Moxie cut off the waitress.

"Well, now we know that the chicken is fried with peanut oil, so there's no secret. Everyone happy?" Shoto said.

"I wish it were always as simple as asking the waitress. Gee, maybe someone else knows about the peanut oil. Maybe I should ask them, too," Moxie glanced at James and Lloyd. "What do you guys think?"

"Think about what?" James asked.

"About the 'peanut oil' James," Moxie emphasize the words and leaned over towards James closer. He scrunched back in his seat and leaned his back on the windowsill at the sudden invasion of personal space.

"I think that," Lloyd said opposite Moxie next to Shoto. "If it's really important for someone to know about it, then they should. Otherwise, we should let that person handle things on there own," Lloyd said.

"So if you were allergic to peanuts, you'd be fine with me munching on them all day?" Moxie asked Lloyd.

"If it didn't effect me!"

"But it does."

"But it doesn't," Shoto suddenly raised his voice. "If Lloyd is okay with it, and James is okay with it, then everyone should be okay with it."

"But maybe there are some people here who aren't okay with it?," Moxie flickered her gaze towards Katsu. "What do you think, Katsu? Would you be okay with it?"

"Don't ask him that!" Shoto shouted. "It's none of your business and I'll tell who I want!"

The diner shifted to gaze at Shoto, the sudden outburst causing the utensils on the surface to shake. The man glared hot daggers at Moxie who herself was frowning at him. He breathed hard through his nose like a bull, and he rose up just an inch in his seat as if he were going to strike her. the tension was as thick as the grease dripped onto the floor with the waitress dropping her pen at the reaction. It clacked on the ground as only the sizzling bacon and frying eggs behind the counter made any noise.

"Shoto," Katsu said to break the silence. "Are you allergic to peanuts?"

The rest of the table stared at Katsu with dense, almost embarrassed looks. With a deep sigh, Shoto released the edge of the table and nodded at the waitress.

"Five fried chickens."

The waitress walked away chewing on her gum. She rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath as she disappeared behind the counter.

"Well...this is an exciting talk and all," Katsu chuckled with a nervous grind of his teeth. "But I'm gonna go to the restroom."

The Japanese kid slid out of his seat and headed for the bathrooms. He pushed through the dark ruby door and disappeared.

Once he was out of earshot, Shoto slammed his fist down so hard, shards of ice burst from the impact spot and jutted upward over his fingers. The crackles of the ice popped out small flecks of frost over the table which left ice freezing the rim of Moxie's glass of water.

"Who do you think you are pressuring me like that?" Shoto asked.

"Stop being a nutria about this," Moxie said. "You need to tell him right away."

"About what?" James asked. "And what's a nutria."

"His cancer, James," Lloyd lectured. "He's dying of brain cancer. Did you seriously forget?"

"A lots happened over the last month. You can't expect me to remember everything," James said. "But why haven't you told Spongebob?"

"Spongebob? Whose that?" Shoto asked.

Moxie sighed. "Mister Todoroki, you know you need to tell him. You're going through treatment, and you'll probably be getting sick and looking like an old dog in the swamp heat. He's gonna get curious."

Shoto gulped. "I'll reach that point when I get to it."

"How is the treatment," Lloyd said. "I've looked up the different avenues for your kind of cancer. It mostly seems like chemotherapy and radiation at this point. In fact, I would've thought after a month you would have started to shed hair."

Shoto ran a hand through his dichromatic hair. His fingers twirled through the thick locks and he pulled on a strand. "I have good genes."

"Are you getting treatment?" Moxie asked. "You said you would. You promised Deku."

"I just got some pills today," Shoto said.

"For what?"

"What do you care? You're not a doctor. They'll help me get better and that's it!"

"You're lying."

Shoto reached down into his pocket and grabbed a bottle. He thrust it up and leaned over the table towards Moxie's face. He waved the bottles in his hand which made the pills shake and rattle in the container. Before he pulled away, Moxie saw the name on the pills and read some of the contents of the label: Secobarbital.

"There," Shoto shook the pills once more and shoved them back into his pockets. "Are you happy?

"So why are we here?" James asked as he took a sip of his water through a paper straw. "Did you just want to remind us of this?"

"It's obvious he cares for our well-being of knowing such an important development in a major Pro-Hero's life," Lloyd said. "Clearly, he wants to make sure we are comfortable in knowing that he is getting better and receiving care. Truly, a noble thing you are doing for us, Shoto. To ensure the next generation is emotionally healthy and inspired by your actions."

"You manatee," James argued. "He's probably gonna threaten us if we tell the others."

"Well," Moxie raised an eyebrow. "Which is it?"

Shoto swallowed some of his saliva. He wiped away a bead of sweat and cleared his throat. "I'd rather you not say anything to others. I'm gonna tell Katsu, but when the time is right."

"You know, God gave you a mouth for a reason, Mister Todoroki," Moxie grabbed her cup of water.

"Yeah, he also gave me brain cancer, so maybe not the right guy to ask right now," Shoto shot back.

"In fact, there are a number of reasons God has made this so," Lloyd said. "What's important is what you gain from the hardships he puts you through."

"And what have you gone through," Shoto pointed at Lloyd. "You hide behind your holier-than-thou talk just so you can act so much better than others around you."

"That's not it at all," Lloyd said. "I was just mentioning why God would make you face these tough choices."

"You don't know shit about God," Shoto seethed. "Neither of you two. You don't know a thing about sacrifice and about life."

"Wait a second," James perked up in his seat and glared at Shoto. "You don't get to talk to him like that."

"Since when do you care?"

"Cause this manatee here is an uppity idiot," James flicked a piece of the paper straw wrapper at Lloyd that his his shoulder "But he's done more hero shit than you have in the last month."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Shoto spat out. "I've only been having cancer. Sorry I haven't saved the kitten from a tree or helped grandma cross the road."

"I thought being a hero was supposed to be about being tough," James said. "Knowing what you're up against and still fighting on. But you! You're Japan's number one hero now, and you just whine and complain about telling someone about cancer? And then you take it out on Lloyd? Some hero you are."

"I-That has nothing to do with it. I'll do this on my own time, but I have to acclimate to it."

"How much more time do you need?"

Shoto wiped away at his eyes. "Tomorrow. He'll find out tomorrow."

"So you'll tell him tomorrow," Moxie said.

"He'll find out tomorrow."

Moxie narrowed her eyes at the odd phrasing. However, she plastered on a smile when Katsu came back to the table. The boy stretched up his arms and craned his neck.

"That was a tough workout. I hope I don't ache so much with the festival tomorrow," Katsu said. He plopped down onto the seat and grabbed one of the cups of water. "By the way, are you leaving for Japan after the festival, Shoto?"

All eyes shot to the hero who looked away towards the cooks behind the diner counter.

"Shoto?"

"Uh...I'll probably be gone by then, yes." Shoto said.

"It's cool that the agency let you stay till now," Katsu said. "My nerves would've been all over the place without you here."

Shoto bit lip with saline threatening his eyes again. Seeing the boy growing up, he thought back to those first few awkward days after bailing his out of jail. Signing all of the paper, being challenged by most of Class 1-A that this arrangement would not work for long. He spent many hours with the boy as he toiled and cried through the pain of training to be a hero. Yet, here he was as confident and healthy as ever. It almost made him wonder if he would have been a good father after all. It almost made him want to have kids again.

Seeing that his eyes were watering, Lloyd jumped in.

"Perhaps you shouldn't say that in front of your competition," Lloyd said.

"Yeah, now we know your weakness," James gave off a sly smirk. "All we gotta do is kidnap Shoto and you'll lose."

"I got room in my trunk," Moxie teased Katsu. "Maybe keep him locked away to where he can't boost your power any."

"I'm not gonna lose," Katsu said. "And Shoto only adds to my chances of winning, but they're already close to a hundred."

Shoto etched a pained smile on his face at seeing Katsu bat down the other three messing with him. He was going to miss the energy that Katsu brought to most everything in his life.

Before he could wallow further, the chicken came. One bite, and Shoto could tell it was definitely fried in lard.