CHAPTER FOUR: FIRST FIGHT

Greg's breath came in ragged gasps as the gang members circled him, the overgrown field behind Winslow stretching wide and empty. His ribs throbbed from the last hit, his legs shaky with exhaustion.

Not exactly how he'd imagined his first fight as a parahuman.

"You're doing great!" Ruby's voice chirped in his head as he barely avoided a wild swing. "Kinda. I mean, you're still standing, so that's a win!"

"We're grading on a very generous curve," Weiss muttered.

"I dunno, I think he's got potential," Yang said. Then, she added: "If he survives this."

Blake's calm tone followed. "Focus, Greg. Watch their movements and strike when there's an opening."

Greg's lips twitched into a grimace. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one about to get your teeth knocked in."

The leader lunged, swinging a rusty crowbar straight at Greg's face.

"Move!" Blake's voice.

Instinct took over. Greg twisted aside, except instead of just dodging, a flickering shadow of himself remained in his place. The crowbar passed clean through the afterimage before it dispersed into wisps of dark energy.

The leader's eyes widened. "What the hell?"

"Hah! You did it!" Ruby cheered.

Greg stumbled back, wide-eyed. He hadn't meant to do that.

"Little punk's got tricks!" the leader snarled. "Surround him!"

The thugs fanned out, cutting off any escape. Greg's heart pounded.

"Don't panic." Weiss's voice was sharp, commanding. "Use my glyphs. Create a barrier."

Greg threw his hand out, focusing on that weird buzzing sensation under his skin. A shimmering white glyph flared to life between him and the nearest thug, just in time for a baseball bat to slam into it.

Then it shattered like fragile glass.

"Less critiquing, more fighting!" Yang shouted.

Another thug rushed him. Desperate, he barely managed to duck before flinging out his hands, this time picturing Ruby's scythe. Crescent Rose flickered into existence: red, semitransparent and unstable, but there. He swung wildly, more for defence than anything.

The thug leapt back, startled.

"Not bad!" Ruby said. "Now try—"

The scythe fizzled out of existence.

"Oh, come on!" Greg shouted.

A crowbar slammed into his side, and pain flared through his ribs. His aura softened the blow, but it still hurt like hell.

"Greg!" Ruby's voice was panicked.

"Stay down, and you're finished," Blake warned. "Get up."

"Use it," Yang said, her voice unusually calm. "Take the hit. Store the energy. Hit back harder."

Greg clenched his teeth, focusing on the pain. Something built inside him; a slow, rising heat that spread through his limbs. His fingers twitched. His body hummed.

A third thug rushed him.

Greg didn't dodge, and the punch connected.

His aura took most of the impact, but the force still sent him skidding back—

And then he felt it.

Raw, thrumming power flooded his body. His muscles tensed, his blood roared.

"Whoa," he muttered. "This is new."

"Now hit him!" Yang urged.

Greg didn't think. He just moved.

He lashed out with a punch of his own, his fist slamming into the thug's chest with far more strength than he should've had. The man was lifted off his feet and launched backward, crashing into a tree with a strangled grunt.

The other gang members hesitated.

"What the hell?" one muttered.

Greg took a step forward. "Anyone else?" he asked, surprised by the confidence in his voice.

"Hell yeah! That's what I'm talking about!" Yang whooped.

The leader's face twisted with rage. He pulled a knife. "You wanna play tough guy? Let's see you handle this."

Greg's confidence wavered.

"Back up," Weiss's voice was urgent now. "You're still an amateur."

He took a step back. The leader grinned.

"Not so tough now, huh?"

"Speed up! Go!" Ruby shouted.

The knife slashed toward him, too close to block, and too fast to dodge—

Except he did.

A rush of momentum surged through Greg's limbs. The world blurred, and he shot past the leader in a burst of speed, rose petals scattering in his wake.

The man swung at empty air.

Greg skidded to a stop, nearly tripping over his own feet. A sharp pain bloomed on his face, but he paid it little attention. "Whoa."

"Not bad!" Ruby cheered.

"You're lucky your reflexes compensate for your lack of grace," Weiss said dryly.

"End it," Yang commanded.

Greg turned as the leader lunged again, knife aimed straight for his gut.

He could feel the leftover energy still thrumming inside him, Yang's Semblance wanted to be used.

He gritted his teeth, channeling all that power into one last strike.

Then he swung.

The explosion of force sent the leader flying, knocking him out cold before he even hit the ground.

Silence.

The remaining gang members exchanged looks, then bolted.

Greg exhaled sharply, the adrenaline fading as the pain in his side returned with a vengeance. He staggered, gripping a nearby tree for support.

"Not bad," Blake said approvingly.

"It was reckless." Weiss snapped. "You let yourself get injured when you didn't have to."

"Yeah, but he won," Yang said smugly.

"You did great!" Ruby gushed. "First fight and you didn't die!"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Greg muttered. He winced. "Pretty sure I broke something."

"That's just part of being a hero!" Ruby said brightly.

Greg groaned. "Great. I'm living my dream of being a parahuman, and it hurts like hell."

"You'll get used to it," Yang said. "Probably."

As Greg limped away from the scene, exhaustion creeping into his bones, he couldn't help but wonder what he'd gotten himself into.

Having powers was cool, sure. He'd imagined having them countless times, usually while zoning out in class, sketching character ideas, or browsing PHO forums.

But reality?

Reality was messy.

It hurt.

And in Brockton Bay, it could get him killed.