Breath became mist. It had been a crisp winter day, but Cole barely felt the cold as evening fell upon the town. One of several advantages to his new get-up. A different kind of chill ran down his spine at the thought. His super hero costume! He shifted his weight, feeling the deep blue material conform easily to the changes. His inner child was a little disappointed there was no actual spandex involved, but he imagined this Synthform stuff was much more comfortable. Also much more resistant to small arms fire, but he was hoping not to test that tonight.

Hands flexed in gloves the same dirty gold as the heavy vest and belt that broke up the ankle to chin blue. Vaguely, Cole realized his face hurt from grinning so hard. A utility belt! Granted, it was mostly full of things out of the garage but still definitely qualified as a utility belt.

Dog was less at ease. He perched, coiled, on the corner of the roof. His feet curled from within the boot to grip the , the material that could bend and wrap around his toes despite its sturdy look. The pants, over-large camouflaged safari leggings, billowed comfortable around his legs. Tied to stillness only at waist and ankle, they were all about freedom of movement. Nothing like jeans or slacks.Out of the pants rose a black, sleeveless Synthroform suit that clung around his chest. A bulky camouflage vest covered the suit, but his arms were bare against the cold except for the black wraps around his hands and elbows.

A camouflage bandana completed the outfit, pulling his hair back to expose Dog’s face. And his ears. Occasionally, he would flinch, reaching back as if to brush the hair back down.

After that scene with Chevreau, Cole had worried a little his friend would be hesitant when it came time for the real costumes. Instead, he had seemed strangely determined to go through with it. Even agreed to Margaret’s suggestion to go without a mask, which Cole himself had balked at.

But it worked. Dog, his friend, became nigh unrecognizable. Cole never realized how carefully the other boy kept his features covered by hair or shadow. Uncovered, he looked…wolfish. His face was so much sharper, the way his cheeks and jaw seemed to lead into his nose. His ears warranted a double-take; something didn’t seem quite right at first glance, then suddenly you realized they were too long and perked too high. Brown eyes darting around, so bright they almost seemed yellow under the light, he gave the impression of a predator on the hunt.

It actually made him kind of anxious, and Cole was grateful Dog couldn’t see him constantly peeking at him through the thick goggle-mask that covered his own face.

Inhale, exhale-Cole centered himself. He rubbed what was exposed of his face, feeling the clear tape-like  strips stuck here and there. One of a handful of gadgets Tess had provided, said it messed with electromagnetic waves so their faces would blur in photos. He was pretty sure that didn’t make much sense, but particle physics weren’t exactly his strong suite. He was getting distracted again. Cole let go, shaking his hands out.

“You ready to get started?” he shouted. Dog looked at him, expressionless, and nodded. Then he was gone. The other boy launched himself to the next rooftop in a streak of black and green, seemingly unmindful of the drop stories below. Cole, or ‘Bolt’ in uniform, crouched. He felt his boots, great plastic and metal monstrosities painted to match his outfit, stir to life. They had been his pet project for years, sneaking them in and out of his dad’s garage whenever he had the chance. Not because of any connection to super heroics, but because on paper they were stupidly dangerous. The motors warmed up, wheels locked into place under the soles of his feet, and with a rumble and a screech he was flying through the air.

He hit the next roof hard, hydraulics pumping to disperse the force, and rode after Dog. This was hardly his first time taking them out. Tess-Damnsel-had put them through two weeks of ‘orientation’ while their costumers were put together. It was far from the Hellish training montage he had gone in expecting, half the time she was explaining vigilante and civilian arrest laws, but the super heroine had certainly put him and his boots through their paces. Still didn’t have a good name for them, though.

Zipping across the city skyline made it all seem unimportant. The boots purred against his legs, the wind caressed his face, for a time that feeling became his everything. It was like when he’d first started free-running all over again. Going faster, higher than was possible on his own legs.

And then there was Dog. No fancy gadgets, just power and speed. He had thought the other boy was agile before, but this didn’t even qualify as human. Leaping and flipping and running, grabbing onto rails or ledges and spinning off. If Cole rode, Dog bounced. Every now and then he would twist just so, or go head over heels, and Cole could catch a glimpse of where that expressionless had become childlike joy.

It had sometimes been hugely frustrating, after he first fired a spark between his fingers, not to show off. Locking some small part of himself up, even when it cried to be free. There were days where he just wanted to light up the sky, beyond him as it was. How was it for Dog, he wondered? If for him it often felt like keeping an extra limb hidden away, was his friend always walking around with weights on? Face hidden, his arms and legs as well as tied behind his back?

All those monologues in comic books these days were starting to make more sense to Cole.

It was hard to remember that they were supposed to be on patrol, not just a joyride. Or so he thought, but Dog suddenly stopped. The transition from motion to absolute stillness was so fast Cole actually crossed over to the next building before he noticed. He bent his ankles, switching gears, and made his way back more softly. Dog had one long ear in the air.

“Somebody shouted,” he said. “Sounded anxious. That way.”

Cole squinted in that direction. His goggles were handy light filters, but even with the streetlights it was getting too dark . He was pointing away from the alleys, toward another building across the street. A restaurant, it looked like. He resisted the urge to whistle, and rifled through his belt for a pair of mini-binoculars that locked onto his goggles.  It was a pizza place, closed for the night. He scanned the street, finally coming upon two figures jimmying the side window open.

His breath caught. Beside him, Dog shifted. Cole reached into his utility belt once more and pulled out a phone, a compact, untraceable device on-loan from Damnsel. The he called the police and reported “suspicious activity” near Guido’s on 105th. He hung up with a click, and sighed. “And now we wait and hope nobody does anything stupid before the cops show up.” Or so Tess had said, anyway.

Waiting turned out to be terribly nerve-wracking anyway. Dog was still glaring mightily in the break-in’s direction, twitching on his feet. Cole occasionally peeked through the binoculars, hoping and feeling bad for it. “Oh.” Someone was making a bee line for the restaurant’s front door. He saw the glimmer of keys. “Oh, shit.” He looked up and down the streets, mostly empty, and not a police cruiser in sight. “Down.” He pocketed the binoculars.  Words, words, calm down and use your words! “Down, down, get down there!”

Cole was revving up the boots, but Dog was already on the move. He slipped off the roof and guided himself from handhold to handhold before hitting the ground at a run. Cole was less  graceful, fitfully climbing down the fire escape before finally leaping off the last story and a half and hoping his boots absorbed the fall. He felt the impact soar up through his knees and thighs, but pushed down, and the motors coughed into a heady acceleration. Loud enough that the employee, a middle-aged man with bright hair and a noticeable paunch, turned in surprise.

“Sorry!” Dog all but clothes-lined him, dragging the poor man off his feet and away from the door where his key still jangled. Moments later the door burst open, and Cole nearly collided with the adjacent wall. Something black and shiny was sticking out in the night air, and Cole grabbed it on reflex. Metal. A barrel. Distantly, he thought he heard someone curse, but he discarded it. He stretched that place beneath his nerves. Electricity flowed from him through the weapon, the gun, and into its holder. The barrel was torn out of Cole’s grip when the man flew backward under the force of his own muscle spasms.

For one, crystal clear moment, Cole wondered if he had restrained himself enough. If he had just killed a man. Then Dog was racing through the open door, body low. There was more cursing, a different voice, followed by a terrible crack and a loud thud.

“Clear!” Dog shouted, like Damnsel had taught them, and Cole started breathing again. He peeked into the store, the only illumination from a flashlight rolling across the floor. The other boy stood tall, heaving a groaning figure over a table to bind his wrists. If Dog was shaking, his breath heavy, who was he to blame him?

“Holy…” They had almost forgotten about the employee. The blond man Dog had knocked over stepped inside cautiously, wide eyes clearly visible. He looked from the first would be robber-who was breathing, thank God-to his similarly limp accomplice lying across one of the tables. Finally, he regarded the two young vigilantes. “I’ll be  damned.” A crooked, disbelieving smile broke his face. “I’ll be damned. So, who are you guys?”

Cole straightened, clearing his throat. He tried to smirk, but had no idea what expression came out. “The name is Bolt. And this is my partner…” He gestured, and his friend looked away from the man he had subdued.

His body had stilled, his face expressionless. “Huh? Oh, I’m Dog.”

“What.” Cole’s brain crashed. A moment later, Dog’s face became even blanker. The only other entirely conscious man in the building didn’t seem to notice.

“Keeping it simple, huh? I like it. Hey-” Then the sirens started. The three stared at each other. “…You boys want to use the back door?”