William Hendricks, District Attorney for the city of Dallas, rubbed tiredly at his brow, having set down his pen some time halfway through the police officers’ narration of events. “Let me get this straight, Phil– you and your partner suspected Arnold Macormand of illegally dumping waste on one of his properties. You could not, however, see this in plain view, owing to the fence that surrounded it. Am I following so far?”

Phil nodded, and William sucked in a breath to continue. “So, then, rather than putting in a request for a warrant, or even simply waiting for the man to slip up and be caught in the act of transport, you two called officer Rogan and asked him to do a pass-by of the area. Rogan. One of the department’s two federally allotted, superpowered fliers, who just so happens to have been able to see over the property’s fence-line as he flew by in the course of his duties. And who just so happens to have seen said waste, giving you a legally justifiable reason to cite Mr. Macormand for violating city ordinance.”

Grinning now, Phil nodded again. “That’s correct.”

William removed his glasses, tapping them on the table before him. “Phil, you’re an idiot.” He held up his hand to preclude his friend’s retort. “We’ll get a conviction here, don’t worry about that. Calling in one of the department’s supers in lieu of actual procedure, though? That’s not going to fly in the long term. A judge catches wind, and they’ll be overturning cases left and right.” He paused. “And if you piss off that Supe, we’ll all be in hot water.”

Across from him, Phil made a face. “Aw, lay off it, William. Rogan flies—so what? Superpowers or no, he’s here to do a job the same as the rest of us. No one strayed past the boundaries of the street, and we got this Macormand guy easy as could be. Hells— the Austin precinct does this kind of thing all the time.”

William frowned but didn’t bother to press the issue. Instead, he shook his head and began to gather his things. “Just keep it in mind, okay? I hear what you’re saying, but Austin’s not the best reference to pull from right now. They’ve got, what, six officers on unpaid leave?”

"Something like that, sure.” Phil chuffed out a breath as he moved to the door. “You gonna’ need a ride today?”

William waved him off. “Thanks, but the metro’s been doing me fine. I’ll see you around, Phil.” He finished packing his briefcase as Phil left, then followed behind a minute later, locking the office behind him.

After exiting the courthouse, he trotted down the downtown sidewalk, making good time in spite of the crowds. In just under thirteen minutes, he’d made it to the intersection just before the metro station. It was there, however, that something caught his attention: a supe floating lazily in the sky. He eyed the woman as he waited to cross the road.

She wore a costume rather than a uniform– a member of a hero team, concealing her identity from the public with a hard-surface mask. She bobbed in place above one of the low-rise buildings, seemingly in the midst of patrolling as she spoke with someone in her ear.

It made William uncomfortable, the obvious display. The federal government had a system in place for superhumans – guarantees for schooling and placement in essential jobs. There were places where powers could be used for the public good – effective, controlled environments – and hero work was not a part of that.

The teams were private entities. Some, the best of them, were contracted with local bodies. Others tied themselves to large businesses, receiving funds through sponsorship deals and the selling of likeness. Logically, he knew they were a necessary reality; the solution to superpowered criminals— murderers and thieves. Yet still, he disliked them. For what they represented, if not for what they did.

William sighed and shook his head, crossing the street before turning to walk down the metro’s stairs. Down below street level, the crowd tapered off, replaced by a short line of individuals waiting to go through the station’s scanners.

Another deterrence, though notably less effective. Super scanners were a technology intended to weed out bad actors in the supe population, detecting the use of powers on a person’s body and checking that the individual carried an appropriate ID.

It was a good thought. The reality, however, was disappointing. In practical application, the time frame to detect a history of power-usage was measured in minutes, if not less, and the scanners served as little more than a placebo to the public mind. The few people the things did catch were usually children, too young to know when to shut their powers down and having run ahead of their parent’s control.

It was, William thought, a frustrating state of affairs for all involved.

Still, the machines were used. William gave a quick nod to the officer operating them as he stepped through, before continuing down another set of stairs. At the bottom was his platform, and William jumped as he realized his train had already arrived. He increased his pace, reaching a set of doors and ducking into the compartment.

Once inside, he looked around for a suitable seat. The car was moderately full – a mix of commuters and recently-released teens from the nearby school – and he scooted by them while doing his best to avoid hitting anyone with his briefcase.

He’d only just sat down when the station’s alarms began to blare.

William’s head snapped around, and he watched, wide-eyed, as people began to stream down the stairs he’d only just left. A crush of bodies, derived from those who’d been waiting in line just above. Panicked and fleeing, some moved further down the platform while others shoved their way into the cars. Behind them, the Scanners’ screaming continued, interrupted by the sound of gunshots, and then an earth-rumbling crash.

After a moment, Fel twisted to peer through the window nearest him. Craning his neck upwards, he sucked in a breath.

A creature stood at the top of the stairs; a nightmarish construct made flesh. Hunched and skinless, its body interspersed with the white of half-protruded bone, it stood just under six feet in height, with clawed arms that dragged across the ground. Pits replaced where eyes should’ve been—gaping, oozing tears that imitated reality only in thought. Unreal, yet undeniably present; a clear, horrifying result of a super’s power.

William watched as it leaped to the station floor below, then darted forwards.

In an instant, it'd caught a woman, grabbing hold and tearing as she screamed and tried to turn. Where it touched, the woman’s flesh sloughed away, distorting like putty and collapsing against the concrete below. In seconds, she was unrecognizable—a humanoid mass of organics and synthetic material, twisted and malformed.

William blanched, his ears buzzing as the creature turned towards the people on the train. In the background, he could hear the warning for the doors, soon to close. Far, far too slow to stop it. Yet the creature seemed to pause, glancing down at the body, then back up to the people in the cars. A second passed. Then another. At its feet, the slurry of flesh spread further across the floor.

Then the warning for the doors sounded again, and the creature moved. A blur, pounding across the concrete of the platform. It reached for the people at the front of William’s car—clawing, grasping, mere meters away--

The car’s pneumatic door buzzed, finally slamming shut. William stared, dazed, as the creature crashed against the metal barrier, its screeches clashing with the screams of those within. On the inside, its crushed, dismembered arm lay twitching against the floor of the car.

They’d been saved, all of them, by timing and chance. Yet he could see the arm bubbling, rapidly regrowing flesh as it continued to move – a new creature growing from the severed limb and a wholly temporary reprieve.

One man, too close to for comfort, tried kicking the limb towards the opposite wall. It skidded wetly, and William watched as the man dropped, his shoe and foot warped into a mockery of what they’d been.

With that, William came to his senses. Pushing people from his path, the middle-aged attorney stood and forced his way into the adjourning car. There were more, now, coming down the stairs from above—twisted creatures that prowled the platform and clawed at the doors. He felt sick; dazed and woozy. Still, he kept moving, getting further away as blood roared in his ears.

One of the Supe teams would come. It’d take some time, but they'd clear the place out. He just needed to get somewhere safe. To hunker down and hide. Terrorist attacks were a known quantity. They’d find the powered individual causing this. He'd be fine. He would. Selfish as it was, he had to believe that.

More cars. More people. He brushed them all by.

The following car was empty, as was the one after that. No signs of struggle, but the occupants were gone. William barely noticed, continuing forwards and getting further away.

Stepping through and into the next one, however, he froze.

Bodies littered the interior of the new car. Its loading doors were open— the release lever pulled from the inside. Weeping flesh. Shattered, protruding bones. A nightmarish imitation of a face. Another monster stood in the middle of them all. It twisted to face him, the space where its mouth should've been tearing open in a wet, bloody grimace as he tried to back away.

He made it a foot before the creature lunged. It grabbed Willaim’s head, and the man felt his face distort. Pain, as his glasses melted into his eyes and his teeth began to merge with bone. He was blinded. Breathless. A thickness as his organs turned to slurry in his chest. He clawed the creature back, even as his hands lost their form.

William felt his skull cave, followed by a long, infinite second of nothing.

And then his body stopped moving, and the world blipped.

In an instant, everything changed. William’s vision snapped back into place, and he collapsed backward with a strangled gasp. There was light again. Air. The chair his body was sitting in rolled and hit the wall. He found himself frozen, his eyes bulging, trapped between terror, confusion, and the need to draw breath.

He'd been moved from the train.

Shakily, his hand came up to feel at his face, only to fumble against the glasses on his nose. He jerked, then made an effort to calm himself, taking deep, shuddering lungfuls of air as he looked around.

He was in his office. In the courthouse, a quarter of an hour from the metro line. His briefcase, which he’d left on the seat of the train, sat on the floor beside him. The lights were on. His laptop was running.

William stood and stumbled his way to the door. He’d been moved – saved – but that didn’t make sense. He was whole. His things were with him. The door was unlocked. He fell forwards, into the hallway, and bumped into Phil.

The other man steadied him with a laugh. “William– hey! I heard you wanted to talk to me about that Macormand case. You got the time?