[SCENE: Sparky’s Servo & Repair - 9:00 AM]

  The bell above the door jingled. Ben walked in. He looked like a walking disaster. He was wearing a bright red Hawaiian shirt covered in yellow parrots. It was hideous. It was also the only clean shirt he owned after the Scrappers shredded his clothes last night.

  Sparky looked up from a drone engine. He took the cigar out of his mouth and stared. "Stryker," Sparky grunted. "Did you lose a bet? Or are you auditioning for a clown college?"

  "Laundry accident," Ben lied, his face burning. He winced, shifting his weight to favor his bruised thigh from last night's mud fight, carefully hiding the fresh layers of duct tape strapped across his chest under the hideous fabric. "And... I tripped in the alley. Ruined my other clothes."

  "You look like a fruit salad," Sparky shook his head. "Get back there. Mrs. Gable’s toaster is trying to murder her cat. Fix the sensor. And try not to blind the customers with that shirt."

  Ben sighed and walked to the counter. He pulled the Scrapper Claw out of his bag. "Hey, Sparky. Before I start... I found this. In the alley. Some rich kids crashed a racing drone."

  Sparky squinted at the claw. He scratched it with a file. "Poly-alloy. Nice." He didn't ask questions. He just saw profit. "I'll give you $40. Cash."

  "Deal," Ben said. He desperately needed a jacket.

  [SCENE BREAK: The Workbench - 12:00 PM]

  Ben was deep inside the guts of the demonic toaster when it happened.

  [SYSTEM REBOOT COMPLETE.]

  [HOST PHYSIOLOGY ADAPTING. RECOVERY CYCLE EXPEDITED: 16H 45M.]

  [CHAOS ENGINE ONLINE.]

  Ben gasped, nearly dropping his screwdriver as a sudden, rushing warmth flooded his veins. Sixteen hours? It took twenty-four yesterday. His body was getting used to the strain.

  Thrummm.

  Beneath the thin fabric of the parrot shirt, the fresh strips of grey duct tape turned Violet. The glow was strong, illuminating the yellow parrots from behind like a neon sign.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  No, no, no, Ben thought, hunching over to hide his chest. Not now.

  Ding-Dong. The shop door opened. A man in a Grey Suit walked in. He wore dark sunglasses. He held a clicking scanner device. A Cleaner.

  Sparky looked up. "We're closed for lunch."

  "Conducting a municipal survey," the Cleaner said, his voice robotic. He swept the device around. Click... Click... CLICK-CLICK-CLICK.

  The device pointed straight at Ben. "Localized energy anomaly detected," the Cleaner muttered, walking toward the workbench.

  Ben’s heart hammered. The Cleaner was five feet away. If Sparky looked over now, he would see the purple glow. If the Cleaner looked over, Ben was dead.

  Think, Ben. Blind them. He looked at the toaster. It was plugged into the 220V High-Voltage Rail.

  "Whoa!" Ben yelled, feigning a trip. "My foot!"

  He deliberately jammed his screwdriver across the main power capacitor with his right hand.

  CRACK-BOOM.

  The violent, concussive pop of the arc flash kicked the tool right out of his stinging grip. It wasn't just a spark. A blinding sphere of blue-white light—brighter than a welding torch—exploded from the toaster.

  It filled the entire room with dazzling, painful white light for a split second.

  "GAH!" Sparky yelled, covering his eyes.

  Ben threw himself to the floor, curling into a ball to hide his chest in the sudden darkness as the breaker tripped and the lights died. Smoke billowed up, smelling of ozone and burnt toast.

  "MY EYES!" Sparky screamed, rubbing his face. "Stryker! You idiot! You created an arc flash! You could have blinded me!"

  The Cleaner stood there, blinking behind his sunglasses. His scanner was screeching with static, overloaded by the EMP blast. He looked down at Ben—who was just a silhouette in the smoke, coughing.

  The Cleaner tapped the side of his device, forcing a hard reset. The screen flickered past a series of surge warnings before settling. "Error code: External Surge," the Cleaner read in a monotone voice, glancing at the smoking appliance. "Electrical discharge. False positive."

  The Cleaner turned to Sparky, who was still blinking tears out of his eyes. "Your employee is incompetent," the Cleaner stated. "Get your wiring up to code." He walked out.

  Sparky blinked, his vision finally clearing. He looked at Ben. He didn't see a glowing hero. He saw a moron in a parrot shirt who almost burned the shop down.

  "That toaster cost $30 to fix," Sparky growled, pointing a greasy finger at Ben. "And you just nuked it."

  "Sorry, boss," Ben coughed, clutching his chest (hiding the fading violet light). "I... I slipped."

  "That's coming out of your paycheck," Sparky said. "And gimme that forty bucks back to cover the damages."

  Ben stared at him. "But... my jacket money..."

  "Fork it over, Parrot Man. Be glad I don't fire you for nearly blinding me."

  Ben handed the $40 back. Sparky grumbled and walked away to flip the breaker. He had zero suspicion. He was just annoyed.

  Ben lay on the floor in the dark shop. Identity: Safe. Job: Safe (barely). Wallet: Empty.

  "Being a superhero sucks," Ben whispered.

  [TO BE CONTINUED IN EPISODE 11]