"Even though Firehawk's reign of terror ended several years ago, people are terrified. Businesses have closed, employees have been sent home, and anywhere that's still open has police on stand-by. Did you know that they also have most of the forces from Fort Bend County AND Montgomery County stationed in the heart of the city today? If Firehawk was going to make a reappearance, maybe advertising the exact day wasn't such a good id—"

Dave shut off the radio a little more forcefully than he wanted to. He let out a deep sigh, shaking his head slightly, trying to get his temperature to lower. He couldn't afford to replace his steering wheel again, and the smell of melted plastic and rubber would never leave him. The only thing that kept his hoodie and sweatpants from combusting was the reinforced fabric of his super suit underneath. It was comfortable against his skin, but hell, he had never felt so uncomfortable in his life.

It was the same design of Bro's suit, but it was different colors. Bro's had been mostly an amber orange with red and black detailing. Dave's suit hugged against his form, revealing the secretly toned muscle he tended to hide under his long sleeve shirts. The only good thing about the suit was that it made his ass look fantastic. But it covered him, head to toe, not a single inch revealed. Reinforced one-way tinted plastic protected his eyes from being seen, and the print on his mask almost made it appear as though he had a beak. The unique heat-resistant material was red with amber and black detailing, like in the logo that sprawled across his chest, a bird rising from flames, the wings spreading out and covering shoulder to shoulder.

He had parked about a mile from his target, a local bank that had maybe three or four branches throughout the city. He could building-hop over to his target with ease. He just had to get to the top of this apartment building… He grabbed the duffel bag in his backseat that housed his katana and two wakizashi swords and took off.

As he made his way up the stairs, he couldn't help but to think about John. He was so lucky to have a best friend that cared about him so much. And it was so amazing to think that after all this time, they could be something… more. Dave had been in relationships before, but none of them had really meant anything to him. Not like what John meant to him. He couldn't mess this up. What if he got hurt? How would John react? Or worse, what if he got caught? Yeah, John was pretty accepting last night, but what would he do if he found out that Dave was actually out here about to rob a bank? That Dave was the heir to a long-dead criminal legacy?

He was starting to heat up again. He took in a deep breath and tried to instead focus on the good morning he had. He woke up way before John did, as expected. Dave hardly ran on sleep, and that night was no exception. When he did wake up, John had a strong arm wrapped around him, and he was snoring in Dave's ear. It was mildly annoying, at least until Dave started to come to a bit more. Then he found it endearing. Feeling his back pressed against John's strong chest, feeling the exhale of John's heavy breaths against the back of his neck, it was… comforting. And for a moment, Dave felt guilty. He forgot about what had happened the night before, and he felt guilty soaking it all in. But then he remembered. He remembered how John said he felt the same. And his heart swelled.

He knew from experience that he could easily shrug John off of him without waking the other. The brunet was like a bear in hibernation. Dave just smiled to himself and rolled his eyes and he threw John's arm off of his waist and sat up, grabbed his shades, and grabbed his backpack from beside John's bed. He'd change into his suit somewhere that wasn't his best friend's house.

His bag was on his shoulder, suit securely inside as he quietly trotted down the stairs. He should've known that Mr. Egbert was already up, dressed, and making breakfast. "Dave," he heard the man call as he reached the bottom of the stairs. "Don't think you can sneak out of here without eating something first."

Dave checked the time on his phone, decided he had enough time to grab a bite, and walked into the kitchen with a slight smirk. "Mornin' to you, too, Mr. Egbert."

The elder Egbert just smiled as Dave sat down at the small kitchen table. He returned to flipping pancakes by the stove. "Did you boys have a good night last night?"

"Yeah, we had a good night. Hope we weren't too loud, we were up a little later than I thought we would be."

"Oh please, Dave. I invested in earplugs years ago."

Dave chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah… probably for the best."

"Well, I'm just glad that John has someone he's so close with. He's never had a friend quite like you before."

"I've never had a friend like John before. I wouldn't think twice about stepping in front of a bullet for him."

"I know he returns the sentiment, but hopefully neither of you will ever have to. Crime in Houston has been relatively low ever since Firehawk stepped down. The police do an excellent job managing the city."

"Yeah." Dave looked down at the formica surface of the kitchen table, seeing the faintest reflection of shades staring back up at him. It was disrupted when Mr. Egbert set down a plate of pancakes with caramelized apples on top, bacon, and eggs. He also set down a tall glass of apple juice and a small mug of coffee, lightened with cream and sugar until it was nearly the exact shade of Mr. Egbert's skin.

Dave looked up as the man sat next to him with his own equal plate of goodies and a large mug of coffee, black. "Mr. Egbert—"

"Dave, we go through this every morning. You're too skinny, I love cooking, and I love you. You're like a son to me. Eat your damn food."

Dave failed to suppress the chuckle that left him, and he nodded and picked up a fork. No arguing with that logic. As Dave began to dig in, Mr. Egbert just watched. He picked up his mug of coffee and took small sips as he watched Dave stuff his face. Dave was too busy appreciating the skill and artistry of the breakfast placed before him to notice the other observing him. And Dave was only brought out of his food trance when he heard Mr. Egbert ask a question.

"So you're working for your brother now?"

Dave paused and glanced up at the man, then set his fork down and grabbed his juice to wash down what was in his mouth. He answered once it was clear. "Yes, sir. At the record shop."

"I know John mentioned that you had been looking for a job for a while now. Because you wanted to save up for something?"

"Just save up. In general. Never too early to start a savings."

"Right… I could have sworn he said something about you moving out."

Damn it, John. "Well, yeah. Eventually. I mean, I wanna go to college and all that. I was going to get a full ride on a football scholarship, but I just couldn't stand it anymore."

"What, football? You love football. What happened?"

Dave's eyes averted to his glass of juice, not that Mr. Egbert could see. He didn't really know how or if he should explain the whole situation.

"I just… was surrounded by a lot of toxic people. It wasn't safe anymore."

"Were they threatening you?"

There was an unsettling calm to Mr. Egbert's voice, like it was a calculated cool. His gaze was intense, and the shadow from his hat covering his eyes only made him seem more intimidating. Dave clenched his jaw just a bit, then continued. "No, but they were bullying some other kids. I couldn't stand it anymore. The administration wouldn't do anything because we've never had a season this good, so they aren't going to punish the kids bringing attention to the school. Even if they're assholes." Mr. Egbert raised a brow, and Dave cleared his throat. "Sorry."

"Who on the team specifically was on board with the bullying?"

"Hell, all but me and one other guy. And we both quit."

"Who were they bullying?"

Dave paused for a beat too long. "Several different kids."

"And you went to visit the team yesterday? Even though it sounds like you don't really care much for the boys on the team?"

Dave froze like a deer in headlights. Shit, he hated when Mr. Egbert did this. No wonder John couldn't keep a secret from his Dad to save his life. His dad was a master interrogator. He had Dave right where he wanted him. He wondered for a brief second if his dad knew he was into dudes or not. But before he could think of another excuse, Mr. Egbert continued.

"You didn't visit the team yesterday. There was no fight you broke up. At least not at school."

Shit, shit! Fuck, what was he supposed to say to that? There was nothing he could say to that. So he just sat there, stone-faced, staring head on at Mr. Egbert. But behind his shades, he didn't have to meet his eyes. He opted to turn his eyes down instead.

"Dave, look at me."

Fuck. How did he do that?

"I don't know what's going on with you or your brother… But maybe you should stay here for a few days. I'm sure it'll be—"

Dave abruptly grabbed his backpack and rose to his feet. "Thanks for breakfast, Mr. Egbert. Will you tell John I'll text him?"

Mr. Egbert also rose to his feet. "Dave, we need to talk about this."

"I'm fine, Mr. Egbert."

He was caught off guard when a strong hand reached over and pushed on his shoulder, forcing him to sit. "You're not leaving until I get an answer out of you." Mr. Egbert's voice was more forceful than Dave had ever heard before, and it shook him to his core. Mr. Egbert had always seemed like this stern but gentle giant, he had no idea how intimidating he could actually be.

Mr. Egbert continued, "Dave, I've said it a million times, and I'll say it again. You're my second son. I worry about you constantly. And I hope it's not out of line, but I feel like I raised you. I helped you with your homework, I taught you how to drive, I made sure you were here on holidays and birthdays. You mean just as much to me as John does. And I know you better than you think I do. I know something is going on with you. This is a safe place, you can tell me what's wrong. You know that neither John nor I would ever go out of our way to hurt you. We only want the best for you. We love you."

Dave was quiet for a beat, just trying to take in everything that Mr. Egbert was throwing at him. He knew that they cared. He cared about them, too. Most of the time, he felt like more of an Egbert than he did a Strider. Mr. Egbert was the one that encouraged Dave to pursue music. Mr. Egbert was the one that would pick Dave up from school when he was sick. It was always Mr. Egbert. He was always there.

He was always there. But Dave still couldn't let him know the truth. And he hated throwing John under the bus, but he didn't know how else to get Mr. Egbert to back off.

"They were bullying John. The football team. Saying awful shit about him, spreading rumors, trying to make everyone hate him. So I left the team. And I tried to intervene. That's what happened. I gotta go to work now. Thanks for breakfast." His tone was a lot icier than what he meant it to be, and he couldn't recall a time he had ever used that tone of voice with Mr. Egbert. But apparently it was enough for John's dad to let him go. He was out the door when he heard John's heavy footsteps coming down the stairs.

That whole breakfast encounter was the last thing he needed to be hyper focusing on. He needed to remember the details from casing the bank. It sure was easy to get details when they had a glass dome ceiling. How many security guards were there, at what times, what routes they took, and he needed to factor in the extra security that most likely would be around thanks to Bro's stupid announcement. That son of a bitch knew exactly what he was doing when he announced the exact day that a new player was entering the game. He wanted to throw Dave for a loop. Make things harder on him. He knew that this had to be some sort of villain lesson, maybe about how things don't always go according to plan. Or maybe this was just Bro being a dick.

The latter was what Dave chose to believe.

When he made it to the rooftop, he shed his clothes and stuffed them into his backpack, strapped his swords to his back, then grabbed his mask and slid it on over his head. He hated masks, but thank God this one was airy enough to let him breathe normally, and the plastic lenses were large enough that his peripheral vision wasn't obscured. Bro really knew what he was doing when he was designing everything. But then again, it was basically just a reskin of his old suit.

With time ticking and no other distractions to be had, Dave kicked his backpack into a corner by the door to the stairwell, and he took off running for the edge of the roof. He had faster than average speed, but that alone wasn't enough to jump the gap between the two buildings. He launched himself over the concrete border of the roof and threw his hands behind and below himself, sending out two large blasts of flame. The power was enough to give him enough momentum to get to the second building. And rinse and repeat.

With all of the endurance training Dave had received over the years, running and turbo blasting a mile was hardly a big deal. He made it to the bank just barely inside the window he had set for himself. There was a police car parked outside with one officer hanging out in it. He waited for about ten minutes, just watching, and it seemed like the officer was busy doing a crossword puzzle. He had no urgency about him, like he really didn't want to be there, like he was convinced nothing would happen.

Better for Dave that way. He slipped around the side of the building and jumped off of it, using a quick blast of fire to break his fall before he hit the ground, to break the momentum, and then he fell the remaining five feet and landed on his feet. He wasn't worried about being seen. No, Bro made sure to tell Dave that he HAD to be seen. But it seemed like the streets were abandoned. All the better to sneak around the police car and over to the fire exit on the side of the building. "Alarm will sound," Dave mumbled as he read the sign on the door. He very gently pulled it open, not at all surprised by the silence that greeted him. He wandered into the remote lobby where not a single person looked up. The only sounds heard were of pages flipping in an open office to the side, and the soles on the bottom of Dave's suit clicking against the tile floor. No one addressed him. He walked over to the teller's desk, where an older woman was reading a book. She didn't look up.

"Wow," he started. "No wonder you guys are so dead today. With such terrible customer service, who would want to keep their money here?"

When the woman did finally glance up at him, she froze. Dave propped his elbows up on the counter and leaned forward, inches from the glass that separated them. "That's more like it," he boomed. "I'm gonna need to make a withdrawal. But first, I'm gonna need you to hit that little red security button underneath your desk." She didn't move. "Well come on," he roared. "I don't have all day, let's go, call the cops already. That one you got sitting out there sure as hell ain't gonna do shit."

He could see the slight tremor in her hand as she put down her book and moved to press the button underneath the counter. "There you go," he cooed. "Maybe there's hope for you yet. Now get up off of your lazy ass and go get me my money, won't you, sweetheart? And a welcome party while you're at it."

Slowly, she rose out of her seat, but she didn't move. "You're not him," she said with a scowl. "You're just an imposter."

"Who, Firehawk? No shit I'm not him. I'm the next in line. Now get going before I get mad."

"You're just some lost man playing dress up."

In one swift movement, Dave threw a fiery fist out and punched the glass with all his might, shattering it and sending the pieces flying. The woman threw her hands up to protect her face and crouched down on the ground. Dave climbed up onto the counter and moved through the new hole in the glass, both hands ignited all the way up to his elbows. Sirens started to go off in the building. "Now look at what you've done," he chastised. "I'm mad now."

"I'm sorry!" the woman started to yell. "I'm so sorry! The money is in the vault, just take it!"

He could see a few drops of blood on the ground, and his stomach lurched. Fuck, did he actually hurt her? He knelt down in front of her, and though she was cowering, he forced her hands down and grabbed her chin, tilting her head up. Her eyes were shut tight, and tears were starting to slide down her cheeks. She had a thin slice on her forehead, but that was it. "Oh, good, just a scratch," he mumbled as he let her go. She moved underneath the teller desk and drew her knees up to her chest.

As he advanced to the vault, he heard a masculine voice behind him call out, "Freeze!" He turned and saw two security guards, both armed with stun guns aimed at him. Dave just scoffed and threw his arm dismissively, sending a short flame wave towards them. It only made it as far as the ends of their stun guns, which started to melt in their hands. Instinctively, both of them dropped their weapons and took several steps back to escape the heat that came for them. "Seriously, I don't have time to deal with you two fuckups." He walked into the open vault and started to grab a few stacks of cash and shove them into his suit pockets. Of course, only Bro would design a suit with pockets.

He heard a crashing through the doors to the lobby and a herd of footsteps quickly approaching. Dave didn't bother to turn around until he had about five different men call out, "Freeze!" Only then did he turn around and see ten SWAT members with guns and laser sights pointed at him. He also saw several officers with bodycams.

"Oh, good, you're finally here. Took you long enough, huh?"

"Put the money down!"

"Yeah, sure." Dave tossed the stack of cash in his hand over his shoulder and crossed his arms over his chest. "So. How's your day going?"

"Put your hands up where we can see them!"

"Eh, my day has been kind of so-so. Had a pretty good breakfast. Well, for the most part."

"Hands up!"

"Christ, are you always this forceful? Is that what your wife is into?"

"You have until the count of three!"

"Yeah, yeah." Dave let out a sigh and raised his hands. "Hey, I'm really glad you guys are here."

"Get on your knees!"

"Ooh. You're a kinky one, huh? Is your police chief around, by chance? I'd love to talk to him."

"One!"

"I just wanna talk to him. I'll surrender after I talk to him."

"Two—"

Dave groaned loudly and got down on his knees. "Dick sucking position. I love it. Are you gonna tie my hands up, too?"

A SWAT guy moved forward with a pair of handcuffs and forced Dave's hands down behind his back. Dave groaned a bit at how forceful he was and purred out, "So are you planning on taking me to dinner first?" He absconded faster than Dave could keep track of, and he laughed. Then a man who looked like a very important head honcho approached Dave with a gun in his hands. The barrel was aimed at Dave, not that Dave cared.

"My name is Chief Vantas. Care to tell me yours?"

"Well, I'm not Firehawk. Sorry to disappoint you. I'm actually the next in line. I haven't worked out a name yet. I figured that's something the papers could do."

"So… you really admire Firehawk, huh? Think you can be the next big super villain?"

"You tell me who decided to bring in a whole van of SWAT to this tiny-ass bank."

"Honestly, we thought that Firehawk would hit a bigger target."

"Oh, I'm not really here for the money. I'm here for you."

"For me?"

"Yeah. I just wanted to talk to you. Get to know each other since I'm sure we'll be seeing each other around."

"I don't think so. You're coming down to the station, and you're going to sit in a cell until we figure out what to do with you."

"That sure sounds like fun. But I've got plans, sorry."

"Your plans will have to be put on hold."

"No, Chief. YOUR plans will have to be put on hold."

Dave brought his hands around to show that he had melted the handcuffs right off, and in a swift movement, he grabbed the barrel of the gun and aimed it at the glass ceiling. As suspected, the gun went off a couple of times as the Chief struggled to get it back under his control, and the ceiling shattered. Large pieces of glass came down around them, causing everyone to scatter and protect themselves. Dave crossed his arms over his head and sent massive flames shooting out from his feet, rising up and out of the hole he had just created from the ceiling. He ran across the fractured glass, fast enough to make it across before it fell into the bank lobby, and launched himself back up to a nearby building. The sirens were wailing in the streets below him, but he kept hopping buildings, all the way a mile back to where his backpack and duffel bag were. He threw his swords into his duffel, shoved his mask into his backpack, slid his sweats and hoodie back on, rolled off the gloved part of his suit, and took off.