Rookie Season (SOLO)

The boy hero focused all his energy into not dropping the crane as people ran in fear. Finally, but Pico figured there were still people who were trying to get a better angle for their social media. His body, especially his arms and shoulders, were on fire as he tried to support the large machine. It finally fell, with Pico along with it. It was just too heavy to keep flying. An idea popped into his head, a last ditch idea that would either save the remaining people or get them killed, along with himself. He used his speed to fly down and past the tumbling crane, which was very quickly reaching the street below. Pico maneuvered through the bars of the crane, scraped his knee across the sidewalk, and tackled a group of guys trying to film a funny video for the internet.

The crane slammed against the concrete, smashing any cars in the area and cracking the pavement. Dust kicked up, police sirens wailed, and people ran in terror. One of the guys Quantum saved said, "Whoa brodie, we were totally about to get a sick clip for YouTube. What a buzz kill."

Quantum took to the air, trying to avoid being seen by any cameras or, worse, Shadic, "Sorry, guys! Gotta blast!"

Pico could not go back to school after that, his parents had no idea he was there. In fact, they probably thought he was doing his job shadow gig. If he were to call one of them and tell them he was just a block away from where a crane tumbled, right after all the lights in the stadium were blown out, they would be terrified. After a few short minutes, he arrived at his house.

Changing back into his civilian clothes behind a bush in the backyard, Pico ran up to the front door and knocked. After a hard day of heroism, and his little crane endeavor, he had never been so glad to be home. A few short moments later, his mother answered the door and said, "Pico! How's it going honey?" She gave him a big hug as he walked in, tossing his backpack to the side. "How was your day?"

Pico nodded, marching up the stairs, down the hall, and into his bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind him. Rolling up his pant leg, he examined the scraped knee he had given himself during his little heroic save. It had stopped bleeding by this point, but it still wasn't pretty to look at. Just then, he received a phone call from Presta, so he answered almost immediately. "Hey there, Presta, is everybody safe?"

"Yes, yes, everybody is safe, but that is not why I'm calling. Who was the criminal you intercepted? Did you get a good look at him?" She asked.

He shook his head, even though she couldn't see him, "Nope, he was wearing some high tech night vision goggles. They were pretty awesome. Now that I think about it, his whole outfit was sweet. It was like some military stuff."

"Military stuff?" Presta asked, "Was there like a red rectangle with two R's in it anywhere on the clothes?"

"Um," Pico thought for a moment. Was he wearing anything that fit the bill? "I don't think so. Why?"

"Darn, never mind then. Did he say anything that could give away his identity?" She seemed to be trying to figure out who the criminal was. If anybody Pico knew could do it, it was definitely her. Her father was a head technician for the government, so a lot of her knowledge regarding technology came from him.

"Not really, but he was talking on the phone with somebody when I first arrived." The boy tried to remember what they were talking about, "Something about how the weapon he had was not what he ordered."

Presta gasped, excitedly as if she just figured something out, "You mean to tell me he ordered his weapon from somebody?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure." He answered, not seeing why it was important.

Some clacking of a keyboard sounded through the phone as Presta typed away on her keyboard, "I'm going on the dark web. This is definitely some black market dealing right here, and I can almost guarantee I can find it."

"Wait, what?" Pico asked, worried, "Isn't that super dangerous?"

"Well, yes, but I know what I'm doing. I have like three IP disguisers and other technical stuff turned on to make sure I don't get tracked down by some freak." More keyboard and mouse clicking sounded as the two sat in silence for a few seconds, "'Anti-Alien Gear, Made to Order,'" She read aloud, "This sound like your guy? Looking at some of his examples I see electromagnetic emitters, sticky ki bombs, a... what!? A parasitic AI that turns its host into a mindless drone that can then be remote controlled? How in the world is this even possible?"

Judging by all the stuff Presta was listing off, this seemed like the guy, "I think that's the supplier. It almost has to be. Can you track him?"

"Hmm," She typed a bit, "Maybe. He probably has a bunch of firewalls and IP blockers. Chances are- oh! I got an address on the south side of South City. An apartment complex, I'm writing it down right now."

Pico was surprised, "You mean you already found him? How?"

"I dunno. I guess this guy's a lot dumber than he looks. Or people are too scared to mess with him because of this technology he's got. Anyways, tomorrow you need to go find this supplier and interrogate him. Get him to tell you where the criminal you met today is at." Presta's intellect wins again. No surprise to Pico.

"Should I tell Mr. Shadic? What if I need back-up?" He asked, worried after he barely managed to save people from the falling crane.

"No! This guy is just a normal human, you got this. Plus, this is your chance to show Shadic just how valuable you are. Your first week is almost over and all you've done is stop a bunch of irrelevant crimes and save people who didn't need help," She said, trying to encourage Pico. She did have a point, even though he thought the stuff he was doing was kind of cool, it was nothing compared to what Mr. Shadic had been doing.

"You're right. I need to handle this myself. I feel like Batman right now, and it's pretty freakin' sweet. Thanks again, Presta, you're the best! Talk to you tomorrow, text me that address!" He said, excited. The next morning, Quantum was going to pay this man a visit and put an end to his criminal activities personally.