Quinn stepped closer.
The glow from the hologram map bathed half his face in cool blue, the other half shadowed.
> "I don't want you to be a hero," he said, voice low. "I want you to be the fuse."
Mason's hand flickered green again. Not quite fire. Not quite energy. It danced like something alive, pulsing with heat and humor and barely-contained madness.
> "…I'm listening," Mason said.
Quinn smirked.
> "But first, let's start with training your abilities—before you go burning down city property. Some of it's expensive. Some of it's mine."
...
They led him into a blackened training chamber, reinforced with kinetic-absorbing steel and laced with retractable obstacle systems. The walls gleamed like gunmetal mirrors.
Cal stood dead center.
Sky hovered at a floating console above them. She tapped a few holograms, and the walls shifted, twisting like a Rubik's cube until the space transformed into a brutal agility gauntlet.
> "Alright, Hot Cheeto Rambo," Sky called. "Let's see what you're really made of."
---
Trial 1: Strength
Cal nodded toward a steel column.
> "Punch it."
Mason shrugged. "Cool."
He pulled back—and swung.
The air shimmered green. The moment his fist connected, the column exploded, blown inward like it got hit by a wrecking ball dipped in plasma. Shrapnel sprayed.
Cal raised one eyebrow.
Sky ducked behind her monitor.
Quinn didn't even blink.
> "Okay," Mason muttered, flexing his hand. "Maybe too cool."
Sky's voice crackled in.
> "You punched a thirty-ton pillar into confetti. Wanna not do that to my drones next?"
---
Trial 2: Elasticity & Reaction Time
Laser turrets slid out of the walls.
> "Dodge," Cal ordered.
They fired.
Mason moved without thinking. His body bent, twisted, spun—like his spine was made of coiled rubber and caffeine. He flattened mid-roll, then stretched through a narrow slit in the wall.
> "What the hell—" he gasped as he popped upright. "Am I… bouncing??"
Sky snorted.
> "You're boinging, actually."
A drone swept low. Mason didn't dodge—he bounced off the wall sideways, flipped, and punched it midair like a fiery pinball.
Green energy ricocheted from his limbs with every move. Fast. Violent. Barely controlled.
Cal crossed his arms.
> "Reflexes: ten. Control: zero."
Mason flipped the bird as he landed, accidentally setting his glove on fire.
> "Still counts."
---
Trial 3: Shapeshifting
Quinn stepped forward now, tossing a metal sphere into the ring.
> "This one's trickier. Metas with your profile usually cap at flexibility or elemental output. You, though…"
The orb glowed. Projected a hostile hologram—a giant cybernetic jaguar, claws out.
> "Let's see what else you've got inside."
The beast charged.
Mason's instincts kicked in. But instead of dodging—
His body shimmered again.
His skin shifted to black obsidian. Then metallic silver. His arms stretched and widened into shields, his shoulders broadening, face elongating, his frame towering like a humanoid tank.
He caught the jaguar mid-pounce and slammed it into the floor.
Sky's jaw dropped.
> "He just Titanfall-ed himself."
The jaguar surged back, snapping metal fangs.
Mason morphed again—sleeker, leaner, with blades forming along his forearms.
He didn't hesitate. He dropped to all fours, moved like liquid, and took the thing apart piece by piece.
When it ended, he stood breathing heavy, eyes glowing, body shifting back to his normal size. Steam rose off his shoulders.
Quinn looked intrigued. Almost… proud.
> "You don't just adapt," he said. "You become."
Mason sat on a cooling platform, chugging water, sweat steaming off his neck.
Sky tossed him a protein bar.
> "Your biology's a mess—in a good way. Whatever you are, it's beyond traditional meta science."
She slid over a tablet, showing his vitals.
> "You're not just generating energy. You're warping your own molecular density. Literally rewriting your shape in real time."
Mason looked at the readout—he barely understood it.
> "So… I'm a cartoon with commitment issues?"
Quinn stepped in, more serious now.
> "You're a kinetic amplifier. The more pressure, speed, or chaos around you, the more powerful your responses. That's why your punches hit harder in motion. Why your fire burns hotter when you're cornered."
Mason stared at his hands. Flexed.
> "I'm a living powder keg."
> "Exactly," Quinn said. "You're not a hero. You're the fuse."
***
The training chamber still reeked of scorched metal and melted circuits. Mason wiped ash off his face, chest rising and falling like someone who'd just been through war—or ballet with a chainsaw.
He was halfway to shrugging on his ripped hoodie when Quinn gestured.
> "Leave that. Come with me."
Mason eyed him. "Unless this is an apology buffet, I'm not interested."
Quinn smirked. "Just shut up and walk."
Down a corridor of security fields and shadowed glass, they passed three retinal locks and a panel that scanned bone density.
The final chamber hissed open like a vault from another timeline.
Spotlights bathed sleek mannequins lining the walls—each in various tactical designs.
But at the center stood something else.
No armor plating. No carbon mesh. No gadgets or utility belts.
Just a perfectly tailored forest-green gentleman's suit.
Double-breasted. Slim lapels. Slight flare at the cuffs. Black undershirt. A high collar that could fold into a wind-cutting shield. No gloves. No flash.
Just elegance with intent.
It looked like something you'd wear to dinner with devils—and walk out alive.
> "...What is that?" Mason asked.
> "Your new skin," Quinn said.
Mason circled it slowly.
> "Not really my thing."
> "Exactly," Quinn said. "That hoodie? That's survival. This suit? Dominance."
Sky's voice chimed in from a comm panel nearby.
> "It's lined with energy-dispersing fibers. Insulated with adaptive smart-weave so it won't burn when you do. The collar holds micro-reactive cooling for your hot-head episodes."
Cal added:
> "No armor. No bulk. Just focus and flow. It moves how you move."
Quinn leaned in, lowering his voice.
> "The suit won't protect you. It won't fight for you. But it will honor you. Because now you're not running from the fire... you are the fire."
Mason stared at the mannequin.
The glow of his flickering green aura caught the trim on the lapels. For once, his chaos looked clean.
> "…Looks like I'm robbing a bank with etiquette."
> "Or burning down a kingdom with taste," Quinn countered.
...
Moments Later
He stepped in front of the mirror.
No gloves. No mask. Just him—burnt but breathing, wrath stitched into silk.
Mason straightened the jacket.
The fire behind his eyes was sharper now, but quieter too. Dangerous didn't have to shout.
It could whisper.
Later that night...
Location: Rooftop Helipad atop Quinn's Tower — post-training, post-debrief. Night air. Quiet hum of distant city sirens.
Mason leaned on the railing, the city stretching below like a lit-up circuit board. His new suit — deep forest green, no cape, no gloves, no flash — fit like it was carved onto him. Sleek. Clean. Untouchable.
Quinn approached from behind, tossing Mason a fresh comm-link.
> "Finished syncing your suit to the grid," Quinn said. "Takes EMPs, ballistics, thermal rounds... probably a small nuke if you're having a bad Tuesday."
Mason raised an eyebrow.
> "You really put 'survive an atomic bomb' on the checklist?"
> "Buddy, you lit a guy on fire with a sneeze. Forgive me for planning ahead."
They stood there a beat. No dramatics. Just two guys, one rich, one radioactive, sharing silence above a broken city.
Quinn took a sip of his drink, then nodded at Mason's silhouette reflected in the tower glass.
> "Y'know… you look like a damn tank in that thing. Steel nerves. Green glow. Like a walking meltdown warning."
Mason side-eyed him.
> "That your way of saying I look good?"
Quinn smirked.
> "I'm saying you look like Green Steel."
The name just hung there a second. No fanfare. No theme music. Just… right.
Mason blinked.
> "Green Steel?"
He snorted. "Sounds like a limited-edition kitchen knife."
Quinn shrugged.
> "Maybe. But it fits. Hard to kill. Harder to bend. And if someone holds you wrong—"
He mimed an explosion.
"Boom."
Mason chuckled softly.
> "…Green Steel, huh."
"Have some rest mason you are going to be needing it"..Said Quinn while going back into the tower .
---