Chapter 5: A Cut Above, A Hero Below

PRT Headquarters.

Emily Piggot, Director of the PRT's East-Northeast branch, exhaled through her nose as she stared at the grainy footage playing on the large monitor. The timestamp in the top corner placed it at two nights ago, just outside a convenience store in the Docks. The video was shaky—taken from a street camera—but clear enough to show exactly what had happened.

A group of young men in ABB colors had been in the middle of ransacking the store. Likely the owner had missed out on payment, and the ABB took it personally. Decided to rough up his shop before setting it on fire as a 'lesson'. A classic robbery gone loud. Typical behavior for ABB. But they weren't watching the footage for them. They knew of this already.

Out of nowhere, he arrived. The camera caught a flash of green as the unknown vigilante dashed out of an alleyway in a streak of glowing green, black, and red.

The ABB thugs barely had time to react before the kid was on them. He fought with an acrobatic style, fast and relentless, weaving between attacks and striking with pinpoint efficiency. A few well-placed punches and kicks sent the gangsters sprawling, their weapons useless in the face of overwhelming speed and force.

Piggot let the video play out in silence as the rest of the PRT leadership in the room—Miss Militia, Armsmaster, Assault, Battery, and Velocity—watched alongside her. The footage flickered as another recording took its place: a bystander's cell phone video, taken from across the street. It had better quality and audio.

More footage played. Another clip, this time of the vigilante—Lagann, as the public had started calling him—stopping a thief by launching himself off a streetlamp to clothesline the guy. Then another, showing him casually helping an old woman cross the street, chatting animatedly the entire time.

Then, the latest one—where he'd botched a midair stunt and crashed straight into a food truck. The crowd's collective wince could be heard clearly.

When the video ended, the room was silent for a beat.

Then Assault snorted. "Okay, I like this kid."

Battery shot him a glare, but he only grinned in response.

Miss Militia folded her arms, her expression thoughtful. "He's clearly new to this. His movements are precise, but there's an element of improvisation—like he hasn't fully adjusted to his own abilities yet."

Armsmaster, who had been silently reviewing his tablet, finally spoke up. "We've compiled all known footage of him. Public consensus is that he's a teenage male, likely between fifteen and seventeen. His physicality suggests a well-trained gymnast or martial artist, but nothing conclusive. No known identity, no confirmed civilian connections."

Piggot narrowed her eyes at the image of Lagann frozen on the screen. A black and red jacket that left his chest exposed, a sleek black visor that covered his entire face with a pair of glowing green LED lights for eyes... and a hood over his head to further obscure his features. But the colors were bright. They stood out. A design that screamed flashy. Too flashy.

"And his powers?"

Armsmaster tapped his tablet. "Preliminary assessment suggests a Mover classification, at the very least. His speed is notable, but not on the level of a true speedster like Velocity. He has shown enhanced agility, reaction time, and the ability to generate significant force with his movements—minor Brute qualities. However, he doesn't appear to have enhanced durability, considering his reaction after slamming into the food truck."

Assault chuckled. "Yeah, that looked painful. Classic rookie mistake."

Miss Militia ignored him. "What's most interesting is that he doesn't seem to operate with the same caution as most independent capes. He's engaging in direct hero work, not just vigilante-style crime fighting. Assisting civilians, stopping street-level crime, and even performing minor community service. That's... unusual."

Velocity, who had remained quiet up until now, finally spoke. "He reminds me of the Sentai Elite."

Battery nodded. "I was thinking the same thing. His costume has that same kind of dramatic flair. He may be emulating them, either intentionally or subconsciously."

Piggot frowned. The Sentai Elite was one of the more publicly beloved hero teams—Japan's premiere cape group, known for their brightly colored costumes and theatrical approach to heroics. Their influence on cape culture, especially among younger enthusiasts, was undeniable. If Lagann was inspired by them, it might explain his showmanship.

She rubbed her temples. "So what we have here is an unknown teenage vigilante with speedster tendencies, a dramatic flair, and an apparent lack of self-preservation."

Miss Militia nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Piggot sighed. "Fantastic."

Assault grinned. "Oh, come on. The kid's trying, at least. He's not some reckless thug looking for an excuse to hit people—he's actually helping out."

Battery gave him a sidelong glance. "And getting himself into trouble in the process."

"He'll either grow out of that or really learn the hard way," Armsmaster said. "The real question is what approach we take."

Miss Militia leaned forward. "Given his age and behavior, I'd recommend extending an offer to the Wards."

Piggot exhaled through her nose. That was the logical move. Recruiting him into the Wards would give them oversight, prevent him from running wild, and, most importantly, keep him from getting himself killed.

"Agreed," she said. "We'll need to make contact soon. Before someone else does."

There was an unspoken understanding in the room. In Brockton Bay, an independent cape—especially a teenage one—was a prime target for everyone. The Protectorate, the villains, the gangs, even the more neutral parties. If they didn't act fast, someone else would.

Assault leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. "So, who gets to be the lucky one to talk to him?"

Miss Militia looked at Piggot expectantly. The Director let out a long-suffering sigh.

"I'll leave that to you, Miss Militia. Take Velocity with you—his speed might make an impression."

Velocity blinked, then gave a quick nod. "Understood."

Piggot glanced back at the screen, where Lagann was still frozen mid-motion. A teenage hero with no fear, boundless energy, and just enough recklessness to be a problem.

She had the distinct feeling this new cape was going to be a particular headache for her.

As the discussion wrapped up, the gathered capes and officers began filtering out of Piggot's office, each lost in their own thoughts about the new vigilante on the scene. Armsmaster was already scrolling through data on his tablet, no doubt planning to refine his assessment. Assault and Battery exited together, the former making some offhand joke about rookie mistakes, while Battery sighed but didn't bother to correct him.

Miss Militia lingered for a moment, adjusting the strap of her scarf as she turned toward the door. Velocity, however, hesitated before following the others.

"Something on your mind?" Miss Militia asked, noticing his pause.

Velocity shifted on his feet, crossing his arms. "Yeah. I just wanted to get your personal thoughts on this Lagann kid."

Miss Militia considered the question for a moment, her eyes flicking back to the now-darkened monitor that had displayed the footage. "He's different," she admitted. "There's an energy to him. He's reckless, but not in an aggressive way. He doesn't seem driven by vengeance or desperation—he acts out of sheer enthusiasm."

Velocity nodded. "That's what I was thinking too. He's... enjoying it." He frowned slightly. "You don't see that much anymore. Most new capes either come in scared, angry, or already jaded."

Miss Militia hummed in agreement. "Lagann reminds me of the kinds of heroes you see in stories. Not the ones shaped by trauma, but the ones who charge forward because it's the right thing to do. It's refreshing... and a little concerning."

Velocity raised an eyebrow. "Concerning how?"

She turned to face him fully, voice dropping slightly. "Because that kind of mindset is easy to exploit. If he truly believes in the ideals he's emulating, then what happens when someone shatters them?"

Velocity exhaled through his nose. He knew what she meant. Brockton Bay wasn't kind to idealists. There was a reason why so many young capes either joined a faction or burned out fast. The city ground people down, and anyone who tried to stand alone rarely lasted long.

"That's why we have to reach out to him," Miss Militia continued. "Not just for recruitment—though Piggot is right that it's in our best interest—but because someone will try to use him. If we don't get to him first, someone else will."

Velocity frowned. "You think the villains will try to recruit him?"

"Perhaps," she said. "Or they might try to break him first, just to make an example. The Merchants would love to drag someone like him down, turn him into a spectacle. Empire 88 wouldn't tolerate him for long. And if the ABB sees him as a personal insult, Lung might decide to make an example of him himself."

Velocity grimaced at that thought. The kid was fast, sure, but Lung was Lung. Even with his speed, that wasn't a fight he'd walk away from unscathed.

"We'll approach him soon," Miss Militia reassured. "Hopefully, before anyone else does."

Velocity nodded, though his expression remained serious.

"Well," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Guess that means we're on babysitting duty for the city's newest hot-blooded idiot."

Miss Militia let out a small chuckle, the closest thing to a laugh she usually allowed herself. "It wouldn't be the first time."

With that, the two of them exited the office, the door closing behind them. Outside, the Protectorate's work continued—but for now, all eyes were on the city's newest wild card.

X-X-X-X-X-X

"AAACHOOOOO!!!"

I groaned, rubbing my itchy nose. That sneeze came outta freakin' nowhere, man...!

Greg shot me a dubious look, blinking like an owl. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I sniffed. "Perfectly fine... someone must be talking about me."

To my left, Taylor gave me an odd stare. "... I thought that was just a superstition influenced by anime...?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Believe what you wanna believe,"

Her confusion caused her face to scrunch up. I chuckled. It kinda reminded me of a hamster, oddly enough. Was that weird to think? Whatever.

School today has managed to go by smoothly so far. I stuck by Taylor every chance I got to avert the ire of her tormentors. And by proxy, Greg followed me around like a lost puppy. We managed to scrape by without anything too serious happening. So I decided that today was the perfect day for our little makeshift trio to go out and hang out! Like friends do!

... although on our way out of school, I had the distinct feeling that someone was glaring a hole into the back of my head.

Greg was talking animatedly about conspiracy theories; ranging from celebrities, to capes, to things like aliens and ghosts. It was frankly astonishing watching it in real-time. How he could switch from one topic to the other seamlessly. Taylor was half-listening, nodding along, but clearly uncomfortable.

I don't think it was because of Greg himself. But more because she wasn't used to this kind of energy—which was understandable. From what I could gather, Taylor didn't have that many friends.

Correction: she didn't have friends period.

Nobody wanted to be friends with the girl that somehow earned the ire of The Trio—how original—and avoided her like the plague. I heard through hushed whispers that students who tried being friendly with Taylor, or even be friends with her, ended up getting chased off, or turned on her the next day.

Doesn't take a genius to figure out how that came to be.

Seriously, was Winslow such a shithole that people can't see blatant abuse right in front of their eyes? You'd think the entire incident with the locker would be enough! But no, people were either dense as hell or purposefully ignoring it.

Don't even get me started on the teachers. Something had to be done about this. I'd figure out what to do eventually because this was becoming too much. I'd only been here for two weeks bare minimum, and I was tired of it.

"Nikko?"

I blinked, breaking away from my thoughts. "Hm? Whaddup?"

Taylor gave me a blank stare. "I was asking a question. Were you even listening?"

"No, not really. What was the question?"

Taylor nearly tripped over her feet, startled by my blunt honesty before shaking her head and sigh. "I asked... what are we doing?"

I blinked.

"...you dragged us out of school to 'hang out', right...?" Taylor said, her expression turning flat.

"Yeah."

"...so...?"

Even Greg was looking at me expectantly. Damn.

I didn't think this far ahead.

"... well! First things first, we need to do something about this wet mop on Greg's head." I roughly pat Greg on the head with a grin. Easy to do. I was like a head taller than him.

Greg blinked owlishly. "Wait, what?"

"We're getting you a haircut!~"

"Wha...? But why, though?"

I stared at Greg. Then looked at the atrocious blonde bowl cut he called hair.

Taylor followed my gaze, paused, and then sucked in a sharp breath.

Greg furrowed his brows. "What? What's wrong with my hair?"

I pursed my lips, choosing my words carefully. "Well, uh… it kinda looks like someone put a salad bowl on your head and went to town with a pair of rusty scissors."

Taylor coughed, covering her mouth. "It's… unique," she offered diplomatically.

Greg scowled. "You guys are exaggerating. My hair isn't that bad."

"It's worse than bad," I deadpanned. "Look, trust me on this. A fresh cut will do you wonders. Boost your confidence. Give you that rizz."

"Rizz?" Greg repeated, tilting his head.

"Charisma, my guy. Drip. Sauce. Game. Women will flock to you like pigeons to breadcrumbs."

Taylor looked as though I was spitting out verbal food poisoning "What are you even saying right now-"

Greg snorted. "Yeah, right. And next, you'll tell me I'm gonna get recruited by the PRT."

I patted his shoulder. "Believe it or not, miracles do happen."

Taylor shook her head but didn't argue, which was basically her way of silently agreeing with me.

Greg sighed dramatically. "Fine. Where are we going?"

I grinned. "To the best damn barbershop in Brockton Bay. Trust me, these guys are legends."

Five minutes later, we arrived at our destination. A place simply called The Barbershop. Not the most original name, I know. But this place was legit.

The bell above the door jingled as we stepped inside.

The smell of aftershave, hair products, and warm clippers filled the air. A couple of barbers were already working on customers, their chairs reclined back as they expertly trimmed, shaved, and lined up fresh cuts.

"Well, well, well! Look what the cat dragged in!"

A deep, familiar voice boomed from the corner, and I turned to see Eddie, the owner, grinning at me from his seat. The older man had a salt-and-pepper beard and wore an apron over a casual button-up. He was in the middle of sharpening his clippers, but his eyes gleamed with recognition.

"You finally bringing your boy here to fix that travesty on his head?"

Greg visibly bristled. "Why does everyone keep saying that!?"

The whole shop oohed like a sitcom audience after a roast.

Taylor looked like she wanted to disappear. I, on the other hand, was grinning ear to ear.

"That's exactly why we're here," I confirmed. "I can't let my boy go around looking like a 2005 Wi-Fi router."

One of the barbers, Terri, nearly dropped his clippers laughing. "Damn, you did him dirty!"

Greg groaned, slumping in defeat. "Just… just cut my hair already."

Eddie gestured to a chair. "Alright, kid, sit your bowl-cut self down. I'm gonna fix you up real good."

As Greg reluctantly sat down, Taylor leaned closer to me and whispered, "Is… is it always like this?"

"At this place?" I smirked. "Oh yeah. This is just the warm-up."

As Greg settled into the chair, Eddie waved his hand like he was conducting a symphony, and the whole barbershop shifted into full gear. Terri grabbed his clippers, moving over to Greg like a master craftsman, while the other guys in the shop kept themselves busy, sneaking in side comments and occasional jokes.

"Hey, hey, Nikko," one of the guys said, chuckling as he leaned against the counter. "So, is this your girlfriend?"

Taylor's face immediately flushed red, and she looked like she was about to snap, but Eddie shot the guy a look that made him cough awkwardly.

"Yeah, Nikko," Eddie teased, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. "Is she the lucky lady who got caught in your web of charm?"

I chuckled and waved my hand dismissively. "Nah, nah. I'm just a guy who appreciates fine company."

"Yeah, fine company," the guy repeated, nodding with a smirk. "You mean the one who looks like she's about to punch someone in the face?"

Taylor's blush deepened, and she shot me a glare that could probably melt steel, but I just winked back at her, and she rolled her eyes. The shop erupted in laughter, clearly familiar with the way I operated.

Eddie slapped his hands on the counter with exaggerated glee. "You're making her blush, Nikko! Man, you're too smooth."

Taylor shifted uncomfortably, adjusting her bag as she tried to change the subject. "So, Nikko," she began, voice slightly higher than usual, "how do you know all these people? You seem really familiar with them…"

I glanced over at her, then back at the group of rowdy men behind the counter, a smirk creeping up my face. "Oh, me? Well, funny story."

I leaned back against the counter, my arms casually crossing. "You see, my older sister, Aoko, took me here when we first moved to Brockton Bay a couple of months ago. She was dead set on making sure my hair didn't look like a bird's nest." I chuckled, shaking my head. "We were both new to the city, so she wanted to find a good place for me to get my hair cut."

Taylor eyed my spikey hair silently.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, his eyes softening with recognition. "Aoko, huh? She's the one with that fiery attitude, right? Red hair? Real sharp, that girl."

"That's the one," I agreed with a grin. "She's a handful, but she's also the best person to have by your side when you need someone to fight your battles."

Taylor raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you look up to her."

I gave her a sideways glance, the grin on my face softening a little. "Of course. She's always had my back. Anyway, after she dragged me in here that first time, I've been a regular ever since. These guys… well, they're family now."

Terri, who was halfway through giving Greg his new haircut, nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, it's been cool having you around. Keeps things interesting, you know? You've got that energy."

"That's right!" Another guy added, laughing as he ruffled Greg's hair, much to his annoyance. "The kid did save our asses from those ABB thugs a while back. We owed him a favor, so now we just let him hang out."

Taylor's eyes widened a bit at that. "Wait, you helped stop the ABB?"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "They were being… problematic. It was just another day in Brockton Bay, y'know?"

... It's kind of startingly, the amount of encounters I've had with the ABB in and out of costume. I'm just glad they didn't trace back to me. Thank God.

Eddie chuckled at the memory. "You were like a whirlwind of fists and feet. No one saw that kid coming. It was like watching a tornado with legs."

Greg laughed awkwardly from the chair, squirming a little. "Uh, is it too late for me to reconsider the haircut?"

"Too late now, kid!" Eddie laughed, setting to work on Greg's head.

Taylor blinked, clearly still trying to process the whole thing. "Wow, I didn't know you were involved with that."

I leaned closer to her, lowering my voice to an almost conspiratorial whisper. "A lot of people don't."

She glanced at me, her eyes narrowing for a second before her gaze softened. "You've been here a couple of months and you've already made an impact."

"Yeah, well," I shrugged, "I tend to make my mark wherever I go. If I'm gonna be in this city, might as well try to make it a better place."

The guys in the barbershop all nodded approvingly, clearly not thinking much of my words, but they appreciated the sentiment. To them, I was just another guy trying to make the world a little bit more livable. Nothing special, just another face in the crowd.

That wasn't entirely true, but it's how I wanted it to stay for now.

X-X-X-X-X-X

"So~ how d'ya feel?"

I grinned cheekily as we stepped out of The Barbershop, eyeing Greg's fresh cut. No longer did he sport that disastrous bowl cut. His blonde hair now sported an unruly, curly style. His sides were trimmed down and his bangs framed his face, curling at the ends. Terri and Eddie asked Greg what type of style he wanted. Greg didn't have an answer. So I gave one for him.

This was the result.

"I feel..." Greg paused, smiling. "Great! Like brand new!"

"Damn straight! You're a new man, now!" I grinned, slapping him on the back and nearly knocking him off his feet. "Just wait for that growth spurt."

"I'm not that short..."

"Dude, Taylor is taller than you. You're cooked."

Taylor frowned. "I'm not that tall."

I snorted. "Girl, you're 5'11. Please. You're practically giant."

She looked like she just soured a lemon, her face flushing.

Greg huffed. "If Taylor's a giant, you're a friggin' titan."

Taylor snorted.

I clutched my heart in mock hurt. "Ugh! Dude! Not cool!"

"Oh - uh, sorry... was that too far?" Greg backtracked, mumbling sheepishly.

I chuckled, ruffling his hair. "Nah, man. I'm just messin' around, you're good."

Greg let out a nervous chuckle, straightening his newly-cut hair with an awkward swipe of his hand. "Man, you really had me there for a second."

I smirked. "Gotta keep you on your toes, bro."

Taylor sighed, adjusting her bag strap. "Okay, so... we've got Greg's hair taken care of. Now what?"

Good question. I clapped my hands together, looking between the two of them. "Alright! We got the whole day ahead of us, and we're rollin' deep as the most elite, exclusive trio in Brockton Bay. We gotta do something fun."

Greg perked up. "Oh! We could go to the arcade! They've got that new Mecha Brawl game at the Boardwalk. I saw a trailer for it, and it looks amazing—giant robots fighting in a city, fully destructible environments, ultimate moves with ridiculous names like Hyper Turbo Laser Barrage—"

"Alright, alright, I get it," I interrupted, laughing at his growing enthusiasm. "Arcade's a solid option. Taylor? What about you? Anything you wanna do?"

Taylor hesitated, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "I don't know… I don't really go out much."

Greg gasped. "That's tragic."

I nodded solemnly. "A crime, even."

Taylor rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay. You two don't have to be dramatic about it."

"Too late," I shot back. "Anyway, I'm feelin' the arcade idea. We hit that up, then maybe grab some food after. Sound good?"

Taylor gave a small shrug. "Sure."

Greg fist-pumped. "Yes! I am so ready to kick some butt!"

I arched a brow at him. "Bro, I dunno if you've ever played a fighting game in your life."

Greg huffed. "I have! I played, uh, Super Punch Masters on my cousin's console last summer."

"Okay, one: that ain't a fighting game. That's a party game. Two: I'm gonna wipe the floor with you."

"We'll see about that," Greg muttered, puffing his chest out.

Taylor let out a quiet chuckle, and I couldn't help but grin. Yeah, this was a good idea. Maybe Winslow was a dumpster fire, but at least I'd made some decent friends out of it.

"Alright, troops," I said, throwing an arm around each of their shoulders. "To the arcade!"

And with that, we set off, Greg already rambling about possible game combos, Taylor shaking her head but not not smiling, and me? I was just enjoying the moment.

Our walk to the Arcade didn't take long. The Boardwalk was always buzzing with life, but the arcade? That was a whole different beast. The moment we stepped inside, we were hit with a wave of flashing neon lights, the blaring chiptune beats of classic games, and the chaotic mix of kids, teens, and even a few adults going wild over high scores and flashy combos.

Greg's eyes practically sparkled. "Oh man, this is awesome!"

Taylor looked around, taking in the atmosphere. She didn't seem overwhelmed, but she definitely wasn't used to this kind of place. "It's… loud," she said, fiddling with her hair.

"That's how you know it's legit," I said, cracking my knuckles. "Alright, people, let's get tokens and settle this like warriors."

Greg was already halfway to the token machine. "I'm gonna need so many of these."

"Dude, pace yourself," I called after him, shaking my head.

Taylor followed, hands tucked into her hoodie pockets. "So, what's this game you two are so excited about?"

I grinned. "Oh, Mecha Brawl? Only the hypest, most over-the-top, robot-smashing, city-wrecking, epic battle simulator in existence."

Greg nodded eagerly. "You pick a giant mech, fight other giant mechs, destroy buildings for power-ups—"

"And," I cut in, "every mech's got a finisher move that's straight-up anime levels of extra."

Taylor raised an eyebrow. "So, basically, it's a Gundam fan's wet dream."

"You know it," I said, shooting finger guns her way.

Once we got our tokens, we made a beeline for the Mecha Brawl cabinet, which was luckily free. Greg and I immediately claimed the controls while Taylor stood behind us, watching with mild curiosity.

"Alright, let's see what we got…" I scrolled through the roster of mechs. "Oh, Titan Thunder looking crispy."

Greg scoffed. "Pfft, too slow. I'm going with Shadow Striker!"

I smirked. "Ninja mech? Predictable."

"Says the guy picking the biggest bruiser."

"Sometimes, you gotta bring out the big guns."

Taylor, arms crossed, studied the screen. "So, you're picking the giant tank, and Greg's picking the fast, stealthy one?"

"Pretty much."

She sighed. "I can already see how this is gonna go."

The match started, and just as expected, Greg darted around the battlefield, using Shadow Striker's speed to weave between buildings. I, on the other hand, played it slow, waiting for the perfect moment.

Greg cackled. "Too slow, Nikko! You'll never catch me!"

I grinned. "Bet."

He tried to hit me with a hit-and-run tactic, but the moment he got close—BOOM. Titan Thunder unleashed a seismic shockwave that sent Shadow Striker flying.

Greg yelped. "Wait, what—!?"

I slammed the follow-up button. My mech grabbed his mid-air, spun it around, and powerbombed it straight through a skyscraper.

The arcade crowd let out a collective ooooh!

Taylor actually winced. "That… looked painful."

Greg groaned. "Dude! That was so cheap!"

I laughed. "Skill issue."

"You cheesed me with an area attack!"

I shrugged. "Adapt and overcome, bro."

Greg huffed, but even he was grinning. "Alright, alright. Best two outta three!"

"You're on!"

Taylor sighed but didn't move away, clearly entertained despite herself.

And just like that, the match was set. The greatest rivalry in arcade history—Greg vs. Nikko. A fight for the ages.

Spoiler alert: I win.

Round Two.

Greg was determined this time. His fingers mashed the buttons furiously, his foot tapping against the floor in nervous energy as his Shadow Striker zipped between buildings. He was playing ultra-defensive now, avoiding every big attack I threw out with Titan Thunder like his life depended on it.

Unfortunately for him, I had already adapted.

He thought he was safe, dashing behind a tower, but I saw it coming. I activated Titan Thunder's seismic stomp, causing shockwaves to ripple through the ground. Greg's mech staggered, and before he could recover—BOOM.

A wrecking ball-sized fist came flying through the building, clotheslining him so hard his mech ragdolled into a gas station.

"OH, COME ON!" Greg groaned, throwing his head back. "I was winning!"

I smirked, leaning back against the arcade cabinet. "Nah, you were running."

"Same thing!"

"No, it ain't."

Greg pointed accusingly at the screen. "This game is rigged for heavy mechs! How does that move even make sense!?"

Taylor, still watching from behind with her arms crossed, let out a small snort. "You literally picked the one labeled 'Stealth Class' against something called 'Titan Thunder'. What did you expect?"

Greg threw his hands up. "I expected to not get launched into a gas station like I owed the mafia money!"

The screen flashed: KO! PLAYER ONE WINS.

I gave Greg a smug look and patted his shoulder. "It's okay, man. Not everyone's built for greatness."

Greg groaned dramatically, leaning against the cabinet like he'd been mortally wounded. "I have been humbled."

But then, as the next game prompt appeared, a brilliant idea formed in my mind. A truly devious idea.

I turned to Taylor, grinning. "Alright, your turn."

Her face immediately went blank. "What?"

"You heard me! It's your turn."

Greg, catching on, instantly lit up. "Oh, yeah! Taylor, you have to play now!"

She took a step back. "No, I'm good."

I tsked, shaking my head. "Come on, Skitterbug, don't be a coward."

Her eye twitched. "That's not my name."

Greg gasped theatrically. "Are you… scared?"

Taylor shot him a deadpan look. "No."

I smirked. "Then prove it."

She glanced between the two of us, then at the arcade screen, clearly debating whether to just walk away.

Greg put his hands together like he was praying. "Taylor, please. You have to avenge me."

I nodded solemnly. "It's for the honor of the squad."

"…There is no squad," she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Not with that attitude."

She sighed deeply, then, with clear reluctance, stepped forward. "…Fine."

Greg fist-pumped. "Yes! Let's go!"

I slid over, letting her take my spot at the controls. "Alright, let's see what you got, Taylor Hebert, Mecha Pilot Extraordinaire."

She just shot me a glare. But hey—progress.

Taylor hesitantly gripped the arcade controls, her fingers hovering over the buttons like they might bite her. Her expression was that of someone who had just been tricked into doing something she would regret.

... which was most definitely the case.

Greg, now fully invested, leaned forward eagerly. "Okay, okay, so first, you gotta pick your mech!"

Taylor scanned the selection screen, eyes flicking across the variety of robotic warriors. Her brows furrowed in concentration.

I grinned. "Go on, pick the one that calls to you. Your spirit mech."

She glanced at me, unimpressed. "That's not a thing."

Greg nodded sagely. "Oh, but it is."

Taylor rolled her eyes and finally settled on a sleek, insectoid-looking mech with bladed arms and an elongated head. Widowfang.

I whistled. "Ooh, going for speed and precision. Respect."

Greg clapped. "Yes! Excellent choice!"

Taylor gave him a skeptical look. "You literally just got demolished playing a speed build."

Greg coughed. "...that was a skill issue."

"Oh, so NOW it's a skill issue?"

"Shuddup...!"

She sighed and turned her attention back to the screen as the game loaded into the battlefield—a ruined cityscape with crumbling buildings and flickering streetlights.

I cracked my knuckles. "Alright, let's see what you got, Hebert."

ROUND ONE. FIGHT.

Taylor immediately pressed a button, making Widowfang lunge forward in a lightning-fast dash.

I smirked. "Aggressive off the bat? Bold choice."

She stayed silent, focused, testing out the controls as her mech zipped across the battlefield. Meanwhile, I had Titan Thunder casually stomp forward like a giant heading to a morning jog.

Greg, watching with intense excitement, was practically vibrating. "Okay, okay, so you got a quick-dash function, try attacking—"

Taylor tapped a button.

Widowfang executed a rapid flurry of slashes, closing the gap between us at terrifying speed.

Greg gasped. "OH, SHE'S COOKING—"

I countered.

With a single button press, Titan Thunder simply backhanded Widowfang like a fly.

Taylor's mech pinballed off two buildings before crashing into the ground.

Greg winced. "...Oh."

Taylor's grip on the controls tightened.

Her mech stood up.

I grinned. "Round two?"

She didn't answer—just launched at me again.

And just like that, the battle was on.

... Taylor adapted fast. Like, really fast.

At first, she was just button-mashing, trying to keep up, but after the third round—after getting absolutely folded again—she started playing more deliberately. Her movements became more calculated, her attacks more precise. She learned how to bait me into attacking first, dodging at the last second, and punishing my mistakes.

The crowd around us started growing, drawn in by the intensity of the match. At first, it was just a few curious onlookers, but then more people gathered, murmuring among themselves as Taylor and I went head-to-head.

Greg, being Greg, was providing full commentary.

"Oh-ho-ho! She's learning!" he cackled, gripping his knees as he watched the screen in glee. "Bro, she's actually cooking now! You might be in trouble, Nikko!"

I grinned, rolling my shoulders. "Trouble? Me? Pfft. Nah, I got this."

Taylor didn't even respond. She was completely locked in. Dialed in.

Our mechs clashed in a frenzy of flashing blades and shockwaves. Widowfang zipped around the battlefield, striking from unpredictable angles, while Titan Thunder held its ground, countering with sheer brute force. The match had turned into a true back-and-forth, each round becoming more intense than the last.

And the crowd was loving it.

"Holy crap, is this a tournament match?"

"No way, man, these two are just insane!"

"Yo, Widowfang is nasty with it! She's playing like a pro!"

A few people even pulled out their phones, recording the match.

Among the growing crowd, a few teenagers stood out—not for anything obvious, but because they were just a little too interested in the fight.

Dennis, wearing casual clothes and a hoodie, leaned over to whisper to Chris. "Yo, this is actually hype."

Chris adjusted his glasses, watching intently. "They're adapting on the fly. Like, really fast. This isn't just casual play, that's high-level pattern recognition."

Dennis nudged him. "You sound like a nerd."

Chris sighed. "We're literally in an arcade."

Sophia stood a little further back behind the two boys, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. Unlike the others, she wasn't invested in the game itself—she was watching them. Her eyes flickered between Taylor and Nikko, noting how focused Taylor was, how she was actually... enjoying herself.

And that pissed her off.

Back at the machine, Taylor had me cornered.

Greg was losing his mind. "NO WAY! NO WAY! SHE'S ABOUT TO TAKE A ROUND OFF HIM! TAYLOR, YOU GOT THIS!"

With a perfectly timed counter, Taylor dodged my heavy attack, dashed behind me, and unloaded a flurry of slashes that shredded my health bar.

K.O.

The crowd erupted.

Greg screamed in victory. "HOLY CRAP, SHE DID IT! SHE TOOK A ROUND!"

Taylor sat back, blinking like she couldn't believe it herself.

I exhaled, rubbing my chin. "...Alright. You got me."

Taylor turned to me, eyes wide. "Did I...?"

"You did." I grinned. "Damn. I might actually have to try now."

The crowd oohed.

Taylor narrowed her eyes. "Wait. You weren't trying?"

Greg gasped dramatically. "Oh my god, he's got layers."

I cracked my knuckles, smirking. "Round five?"

Taylor smirked back. "Bring it."

The match was back on.

X-X-X-X-X-X

The match had been insane. Even as we walked out of the arcade, Greg was still hyped.

"Bro. BRO. I cannot believe you actually took a round off Nikko! Taylor, you were in the freakin' zone!"

Taylor, sipping from a soda she'd grabbed on our way out, just shrugged. "I just... paid attention."

"Paid attention?! Paid attention?! Girl, you were out here like a tournament player!" Greg waved his arms around, looking like he was about to explode. "We NEED to come back and do that again! I swear, if you actually beat him next time, I'm gonna—"

I slung an arm around his shoulders and smirked. "Gonna what? Grow five inches and challenge me yourself?"

Greg groaned. "Can we not bring up my height for five minutes?"

Taylor snorted, and I just cackled.

By now, the adrenaline had worn off, and I could hear my stomach protesting. "Alright, fun and games aside—I'm starving. Where we eatin'?"

Greg perked up. "Ooo, we should get pizza! Or burgers! Or—oh! There's this place that does, like, insane milkshakes—"

Taylor shook her head. "Something not loaded with sugar, maybe?"

I hummed, rubbing my chin. "Alright, alright, how 'bout a diner? Classic, simple, good food. I know a spot."

Taylor looked skeptical. "You know a lot of spots."

"What can I say? A man's gotta eat."

Greg grinned. "Diner sounds good to me."

And with that, we set off, heading toward one of my favorite little hole-in-the-wall diners in town. The sun was setting, casting everything in a soft orange glow.

As we walked, I glanced over at Taylor. She looked... at ease. Like she wasn't constantly expecting something bad to happen. That's a win in my book.

The diner I had in mind wasn't anything fancy—just a cozy little spot tucked between a laundromat and a convenience store. The neon sign above the entrance flickered slightly, the name Maggie's glowing in warm red and yellow. The smell of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee wafted out as we stepped inside, the little bell over the door jingling.

Greg took a deep breath. "Oh man, this already smells amazing."

Taylor glanced around, taking in the retro décor—checkered floors, red vinyl booths, an old jukebox in the corner playing some classic rock. "This is your go-to spot?"

I grinned. "Damn right it is. Best burgers and shakes in the city."

A waitress, a middle-aged woman with a kind smile and a nametag reading Maggie, turned to greet us. "Well, if it isn't my favorite troublemaker! Nikko, you bringing friends this time?"

"You know it, Maggie. Got my guy Greg and my girl Taylor with me today."

Taylor nearly choked on air. "I'm not his girl."

Maggie chuckled. "Sure, sweetheart."

Greg, bless his soul, was vibrating with excitement. "Okay, okay, but real talk, what's the best thing on the menu?"

Maggie hummed, tapping a finger on her chin. "Depends—y'all looking for classic, or crazy?"

Greg and I exchanged a look. "Crazy," we said in unison.

Taylor sighed. "I feel like I should've expected that."

Maggie grinned. "Alright, I got just the thing. Y'all take a seat, and I'll bring out something special."

We slid into a booth by the window, the seats worn from years of customers but still comfortable. Greg was practically bouncing in his seat, and Taylor—while pretending to be exasperated—looked like she was actually enjoying herself.

I leaned back, stretching my arms behind my head. "So, let's hear it—the best part of the day so far?"

Greg didn't even hesitate. "The arcade. Hands down. Watching Taylor absolutely cook you was a highlight of my life."

Taylor rolled her eyes but smirked slightly. "I didn't 'cook' him."

"You did," Greg and I said at the same time.

Taylor just shook her head, taking another sip of her soda.

A few minutes later, Maggie returned, setting down three trays in front of us. "Alright, here we go—one triple-stack bacon cheeseburger with onion rings, one loaded chili dog with extra cheese, and one monster shake—chocolate, peanut butter, and caramel, with a brownie and a whole slice of cheesecake on top."

Greg's eyes went huge. "Oh my god."

I clapped my hands together. "Maggie, you legend."

Taylor just stared at the monstrosity of a milkshake. "How is that even structurally possible?"

Greg was already reaching for it. "I don't know, but I need to experience this."

It didn't take long for us to dig in, engaging in small talk, but mostly enjoying our food. Topics ranged from what we planned on doing when we got home, what our next test was gonna be, just normal highschool stuff...

But, of course, it wouldn't be a superhero world without the topic of capes getting thrown into the discussion.

Greg was the first to bring it up, naturally.

"So, Lagann, huh?" he said through a mouthful of burger, gesturing with a fry. "Dude just popped up outta nowhere, and he's already making waves."

I nearly choked on my own food but covered it up by reaching for my drink. "Mmm-hmm," I hummed noncommittally, taking a sip through my straw as I worked to keep my expression neutral.

Taylor raised an eyebrow. "You sound way too excited about this."

Greg gestured wildly. "How can I not be? He's so cool! The way he just wrecked those ABB guys on that convenience store footage? The way he moves? It's like—like watching an anime protagonist in real life!"

"Anime protagonist?" Taylor repeated, deadpan.

Greg nodded sagely. "Yeah, you know—the way he just bursts onto the scene, does all these crazy fast movements, and talks like he's so sure of himself? It's straight-up something out of a shonen battle series."

I coughed into my fist. "Ha. Yeah. Wild."

Taylor frowned slightly. "I don't know. He does seem strong, but I don't get what his deal is."

Greg turned to her, waving a fry around like a pointer. "His deal is that he's a hero! Like, a real one—not just another Protectorate guy or a Ward. He's out here helping people without all the bureaucratic nonsense. It's refreshing."

Taylor rested her chin on her hand. "Or reckless."

I tensed slightly but forced myself to remain casual. "How so?"

She glanced at me. "Think about it—he's throwing himself into situations without backup, no support network, no idea what he's really getting himself into. That kind of thing gets people killed. He's already engaged in combat with the ABB a handful of times over the past week."

Greg waved her off. "Oh, come on, Taylor. You saw the footage. The guy's got skills. And he's not just picking fights—he's actually helping people. Like, remember that footage from downtown? He didn't just stop those guys robbing that shop—he fixed the busted-up storefront afterward! Or how about when he helped that old lady cross the street?"

I shrugged, trying to look disinterested while internally wondering just how many people had actually noticed that part. "Maybe he's just... really into helping?"

Greg nodded vigorously. "Exactly! Dude's got a theme, too—have you seen his outfit? That helmet, the coat, the whole Sentai look? He knows what he's doing."

Taylor exhaled through her nose. "I guess."

Greg smirked. "You sound like you're a little interested."

Taylor frowned. "Mildly."

"Aha!" Greg pointed at her triumphantly. "See? Everyone likes Lagann!"

I stuffed another fry in my mouth to avoid responding, my brain running at a hundred miles per hour.

Okay, so Greg was way too into my whole thing. Taylor was skeptical but not outright against it. That was... manageable.

But still—holy hell, this was what Clark Kent and Peter Parker had to deal with daily? Sitting at a table while people just talked about their alter ego like it was no big deal?

I was starting to understand why they were always stressed.

Greg was on a roll now, talking a mile a minute as he leaned forward, eyes shining with excitement.

"And get this—there's already theories popping up online about who he is!"

I nearly choked on my soda. "Theories?"

Taylor gave Greg a dry look. "Of course there are."

Greg nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! People are saying he might be some kind of ex-Martial Artist turned vigilante, or maybe even an ex-Ward who went rogue because he got sick of all the rules! Some folks think he might be a tinker, too, but that doesn't really add up because there's no sign of any gear beyond the helmet and jacket."

I chewed on my burger slowly, keeping my face neutral. "Huh. That's... a lot of theories."

Greg grinned. "Right? People are obsessed with this guy already! There's even a thread comparing him to the Sentai Elite!"

Taylor blinked. "The Japanese team?"

"Yeah! You know, 'cause of the jacket, the colors, the whole heroic aesthetic. Some people are calling him American Sentai!"

I had to stifle the urge to groan. "That's a name that's not gonna stick. Has anyone ever thought the guy might be Japanese...?"

Greg laughed. "I dunno, man, but people love a theme. And he's got a great one."

Taylor, still skeptical, tapped her fingers against the table. "You're putting a lot of faith in some random new cape. How do you know he's not just going to get himself killed?"

Greg leaned back, crossing his arms. "I don't, but I hope he doesn't. I mean, we could use someone like him, you know? The city's a mess. The PRT's all caught up in red tape, and the Protectorate only does so much. The Wards try, but they're still just kids. Lagann? He's doing something. It may be small, but it's something. And people are slowly starting to notice."

I resisted the urge to shift in my seat. It was weird, hearing people talk about me like this. On one hand, it was kinda cool. On the other hand, it was really weird knowing that my every move was being analyzed and debated online.

Taylor frowned slightly. "... And what if he's not what you think he is?"

Greg rolled his eyes. "Jeez, Taylor, way to be a downer."

She shrugged. "I'm just saying, it's too early to call him a hero. He's still new. We don't know anything about him besides what little footage we've seen."

I nodded along, playing the neutral party. "She's got a point. He could end up being just another vigilante who burns out fast. Or worse."

Greg waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, I don't buy it. He's too cool to go bad."

Taylor snorted. "That's not how that works, Greg."

Greg shrugged. "Still, I think he's gonna be big. Mark my words."

I gave him a weak chuckle while internally screaming.

Taylor still looked skeptical, but I caught the way she glanced off to the side, thoughtful. Maybe she wasn't entirely convinced Lagann was reckless garbage.

Greg, meanwhile, was still way too into this.

I was gonna have to be really careful around him.

Greg blinked, peering out the window and yelping as the sun began to set. He pulled out his phone and his eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. "Awh, crap! It's getting late! I gotta head home!"

I swallowed the last bits of my food, tilting my head. "You gonna be alright on your own?"

He nodded frantically. "Yeah! I don't live far from here, actually. I'll see you guys tomorrow at school! Thanks for everything!"

I sipped my milkshake as I watched Greg dash out the diner. Taylor hummed, setting her empty soda cup off to the side and pushing herself up. "I guess I should get going, too."

I glanced up at her. "Want me to walk you home? It's a pretty far walk."

Taylor paused, giving me a long stare before slowly responding, "...you... don't have to-"

I cut her off with a grin. "Hey, no worries. It's not like I have anything else to do. Besides, it's not every day I get to walk around with someone who's almost as tall as me."

Taylor shot me a half-smile, rolling her eyes, but I could tell there was a hint of warmth there. "Sure. I guess that'd be nice."

We stood up together, and I pushed open the door of the diner, letting the cool evening air wash over us. The streets were quieter now that the sun was dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows on the sidewalk. The distant sound of traffic hummed in the background, but for the most part, it was peaceful.

"So," I started as we began walking down the sidewalk, "you ever have nights like this? Where it just feels like... you're actually having fun?"

Taylor gave me a sidelong glance, the corner of her mouth twitching as if she was about to say something but held back. Instead, she nodded, though her expression was a little more guarded than I expected. "I guess. But not often."

I didn't push further. It was clear that there was a lot beneath the surface, and I wasn't going to pry. Not yet, anyway. I'd let her open up when she was ready.

We walked in comfortable silence for a little while, the kind of silence that isn't awkward, but just... natural. It was nice. Too bad it was coming to an end soon.

"So," I asked, breaking the quiet as we neared the street that led to her house, "you still gonna try out that new game at the arcade? I mean, I know Greg and I will be back there."

Taylor chuckled softly, glancing over at me. "Maybe. I'll think about it."

"Come on, you're totally gonna beat me next time. I can feel it."

She snorted. "Yeah, right."

I grinned, nudging her gently. "I'm just saying. You've got the reflexes for it. You're like the silent pro, waiting for the right moment to strike."

She seemed to consider that for a moment before shaking her head. "I don't know. I think you and Greg make it more fun. It's nice not being the one left out."

I felt a small knot in my chest at her words. "Well, you're not gonna be left out anymore, Taylor," I said, trying to keep my voice casual but making sure she heard the sincerity in it. "You're one of us now. As long as you want to be, anyway."

Taylor's steps slowed slightly, and I caught the fleeting look of uncertainty in her eyes. She quickly looked away, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Thanks," she murmured. "For today. It... it was nice. Really."

I smiled. "Anytime."

We finally reached her house, standing outside for a moment. Taylor didn't move to open the door right away, as though she was hesitating.

"You good?" I asked, noticing her hesitation.

She nodded, her expression unreadable for a moment before she gave me a small smile. "Yeah. Just... thanks. For everything, Nikko."

I shrugged. "Like I said. Anytime."

I was about to turn and head back when she spoke again.

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Of course. We're not done yet, right? We still gotta take down that high score." I winked.

Taylor laughed lightly, shaking her head. "Yeah, sure. We'll see."

With that, she finally opened the door and stepped inside, giving me one last look before she disappeared behind it.

I stood there for a moment, letting out a quiet breath I didn't realize I was holding. It was nice. Having friends. Honestly, this was the reason I became a hero in the first place. I wanted to bring smiles to people's faces. Make them feel safe and secure. That's all I ever wanted.

It's good to know I can accomplish that in and out of costume.

Turning away, I shoved my hands into my pockets and made my way back home, the cool night air brushing against my skin. Maybe this was the start of something good. I could only hope.

And that's all I'll ever need.

A/N.

Even in a universe where she didn't trigger, Taylor still has a connection to bugs...

This chapter came out faster than expected, but I already had most of this written out by the time I released chapter 4. So~ enjoy the back-to-back updates!

I love writing slice of life moments between characters, man. That shit is like dopamine. Also thought I nailed the humor here, too. Got a good laugh out the stuff I wrote. So I hope you guys did too!

Oh, and if you have trouble picturing Greg's new hairstyle, just imagine Okarun from Dandadan. But blonde. And without the glasses.