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"An orphan, right? And let me guess, parents were killed in some biker shootout across the street from a... Hooters?"

"Twin Peaks," Rami's hands clenched into fists. The little robot floating in front of him was testing him. That had to be it. The League was testing him.

"Whatever," The robot rolled it's one eye, a small green ball that glowed in the middle of its orb of a body. "Then you grew up alone, parentless, friendless, nothing but a dirty orchin the citizens of Dallas wouldn't stop to kick. Until! It happened. A jackass who couldn't keep his paws off whiskey for two hours careened off the shit-hole of a bridge you called home and you braved the flames thinking it was your chance to be like Mr. Fantastic."

Rami forced his hands to relax, and took a deep breath. He had to get his anger under control. He could not burst into flame. Not now, not in front of the League's Chronicler. He would be out on his first day. No. No that would not happen.

He exhaled slowly, and pictured the black flames of the Coors truck. Thinking about what that driver had really been smuggling helped, for whatever reason.

"How's that sound?" The robot asked. "Sound about right? So, no. No you aren't special. You're just like all the other kids who found themselves in the right place at the right time. There's nothing you can do to change that."

The Chronicler's eye clicked closed and the orb drifted out of the tunnel he called home it had flown in from not ten minutes ago.

"Wait!" Rami called. It couldn't leave him. He was going to be in the League! It was his only chance to get out, to make something of himself. The green eye blinked back on.

"For what? Face it urchin, you'll never be super." The orb drifted out of sight.

Rami leapt to his feet and raced to the edge of the tunnel. That piece of garbage couldn't just come in and insult him like that. Tell him his story, then say he'll never be anything. No. Fuck that.

The League's orb hung in the night sky, a black sphere silhouetted against the moon. It made a half-rotation, orienting itself along the highway above, then took off.

"Stop!"

Rami felt his clothes fall from his body before the black flames obscured his vision.

The Chronicler stopped.

"Yes!" It whooped. "That's it! Perfect."

The flames died along his skin. What the hell was going on?

It sped down to him and came to a hovering stop. The center of its eye went black then a crackling light spread from it. A square hologram projected a few inches from its body. Rami stared at the image. It was him. He knew it was, but the figure on the display was a demon. Ebony bones shone amid tuffs of fur and dark purple tongues of curling fire. Short horns erupted from his head alongside his ears which had lengthened and curled up into points. Two pits of glowing gray lay where his eyes should have been, smoke trailed from the corners where they were swept away by the fire and smoke that dripped from his mouth and nose which had fused and lengthened into a triangular muzzle.

"Good, yes?" It asked. "The perfect cover. CR-018 will be furious. That bitch can never be happy for anyone else," it mumbled. "Her boy always has to be the star."

What the fuck was going on?

"Speechless?" The Chronicler laughed, and rolled backwards so its eye did a full circle before returning to stare at Rami. "No, but really though. It's good --no great. Right?"

"Uhh..."

The hologram switched off. "Well, no accounting for taste. Get new clothes and then we'll be off."

"What the hell was that about?" Rami demanded.

The Chronicler's eye blinked at him, "Oh, damn they gave me another slow one didn't they." It huffed and rolled it's eye along the top rim of its socket before speaking slowly. "I am your Chronicler. I chronicle your exploits for the League. Right? Do I need to slow down?"

"Fuck you," Rami growled and stormed back into his home.

"As you know, at least I hope you do all things considered, but then again..." the Chronicler shot in front of him. It's green eye cast a green glow around his home. It was pretty helpful actually, and Rami did not have to fumble in the dark for his spare set of clothes, but he'd be damned before he let that little bastard of a robot know that. "... the League uses the footage I take for fundraising, and for legal reasons. This way no one can sue you for saving their life."

Rami paused. He knew about the fundraising. Everyone knew about the comics. Every kid spent the last fifteen years saving first editions of the newest heroes and trading cards to collect everyone of the League members before they died or retired. But sued? Could that happen to him?

"It's only happened once. The wimp complained he broke his neck after MJ pushed him out of the way of a train. Dumbass parked right on the tracks then couldn't help himself out of it. He lost the case because the judge wasn't an idiot, but after that the League decided to post us with all of you just in case the next one's mother was a crack whore. Sorry, no offense."

Where all the Chronicler's like this? Rami made a vow to get his switched out first chance he got. Or, if he couldn't do that, he was going to find where it's off switch was and weld it closed with his claw.

"Still doesn't explain what the hell that was about." He gestured to the tunnel's exit with his head while slipping on his pants.

The Chronicler groaned, "It's an art you uncultured urchin. You weren't cooperating with the pose so I had to force you into it. I am your director, got it? You do as I say, and I'll be a star --I mean, I'll make you a star. Yeah, that's it. You'll be read by every kid in town. Everyone will have your card. We'll even get you a poster. Something badass too. Not one of those shitty pin ups the kids will jerk it too like the Twins have.

"Right. You dressed?" The Chronicler whisked away without waiting for an answer. "Come on. Your first night as a hero awaits."It made a sound like snorting, "Hero.You? As if."

He had to follow it, didn't he?

The Chronicler floated back into sight. Half of its eye shone around the lid of the tunnel, "You coming? There's a robbery up the road. No weapons either. Come on this will be a good, easy start. I can add in the guns later to make it look cooler. Let's go! Let's go!"

This was his chance to make something of himself. Rami stood straighter. This was his chance, his night. He followed after the Chronicler. It flew up over the edge of the wall and out of sight once he exited the tunnel. Rami hoped it would wait for him as he made his way over to the ladder and climbed up.

It had waited, but what little joy Rami felt at that disappeared quickly.

"Oh my God. You are the slowest person I have ever met. Can't you fly? Or run or something? I mean christ, you'd think my gears would've rusted by now."

"Can't fly," Rami shook his head. He would not let the dick of a robot get him angry again.

"Fine. Well, work on your cardio or something. The robber's probably already escaped, but with any luck he's half as slow as you, and is still in the city."

The Chronicler whizzed away from him, and Rami followed after the soft glow of it's eye as it wound through dark alleys and empty streets. Its light shut off as it approached a dumpster.

"Around the corner," it whispered. "Okay, here's what you're gonna do. Wait for me to get ready, then hide in the shadow along that wall. Then threaten him, make your eyes glow or something, and tell him to drop the money, or bag. I don't care. That part's up to you. Just wait for my signal to start. Got it?"

Rami nodded. This was it. His first bust as a super. He was going to be in the League. God, he was really doing it.

"Alright. Stay loose, go with the flow, and just have fun with it. Got it? Alright." It started to leave, but halted a foot from the corner, "Oh, and don't fuck this up." Then it was gone.

Rami took a deep breath, and counted to three. That should be enough time for the Chronicler to get ready. He stepped around the corner. A man crouched near the middle of the alley. A bag lay between his legs, and he held a wad of cash in his hands. He hungrily poured over the cotton bills, sliding the money through his hands as he counted his score

Something clicked overhead, the signal. Now or never.

Rami kept the transformation contained to his head. He couldn't destroy this pair of clothes too. He opened his mouth and snarled. The robber shot to his feet. Rami took a step forward, so the black flames on his snout danced on the edge of shadow.

"Who, what are you?" The robber stammered.

Shit. They hadn't covered that. The fire frizzled, "Rami."

"Cut!" The green light of the Chronicler's eye flooded the alley, "Cut!"

"What the fuck?" The robber squinted up at the Chronicler.

"Rami? Rami!" The Chronicler flew an inch from his face, his transformation completely faded then. "What in fucking Christ's name were you thinking? You're supposed to be a badass! A hellhound, not Ryan fucking Reynolds. Jesus!"

The robber fled.

"Damnit, hold on." The Chronicler zipped to the robber. It rammed into his back and knocked him to the ground, "We're not done yet."

The robber squirmed and tried to throw the robot from his back, but quickly realized he was trapped.

"I need to get up to set the shot," The Chronicler explained. "If you promise to stay here and help, I won't taze your ass. Okay?"

The robber did not respond.

Zap

A spark shot from the Chronicler. The robber yelped, "Okay! Okay!"

"Good."

The green light switched off.

"Dumbass, get back to your starting position."

Rami stepped back into the shadow.

"Right, now get your face all ugly again. Good enough. You! Robber. Stand up, and keep a hold of that money. Don't make me taze you again."

The robber complied.

"Good, now here's how it's gonna go down. Dumbass will growl drop the money. You will look scared, not disgusted. I know that will be hard, but you're an actor --well, you are tonight. Just do it. If it helps just think that I'm right above you with ten thousand volts aimed right for that stringbean you call a dick."

The robber whimpered.

"Perfect. Okay, ignore what I said. We just got that shot. Dumbass, do the line."

Rami took a deep breath, and forced as much of the smoke drifting around his head into his mouth as he could. When his lungs started to burn, he opened his muzzle and smoke curled around his fangs as he growled, "Drop the money."

"Damn. Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Just shows what a good director can get you.

Now for the last shot." The Chronicler drifted down in between him and the robber. "Run." The eye flicked on. "Run boy! Run!" A blue spark shot at the robber's feet. A strangled cry escaped his lips, before he turned tail and ran.

"Full transformation," The Chronicler order. "After him."

Rami leapt forward. He let his anger at that damn robot course through his veins, fuel the flames that erupted along his skin and shifting muscles. The Chronicler shot beneath him as he left his feet. He landed on four paws and ran after the fleeing criminal. His vision narrowed until he saw nothing but the prey in front of him.

He must have roared as he'd leapt, or maybe the robber just heard the two tons of taught flame slam into the ground behind him because the man glanced over his shoulder. His eyes were white, glossed over with fear. The stench of piss washed over Rami as he made a second leap at the robber, who dropped the money and dove around the edge of the alley.

Rami's paws scratched along the pavement as he tried to swing his momentum around the corner. His talons clawed into the cement, adding bright sparks to the scorch marks his fur left behind. The robber flung himself away, and lay sprawled on the ground.

"Hail Mary, full of grace," he tried praying.

Rami stalked toward him, taking his time. For each of his steps, the robber scrambled back, but it was no use. He curled his lips back in a snarl, smoke dripped from his quivering jowls before being lost to the flames. He shot a paw forward, driving the flames and fur back with the motion so one arm was left human. He pressed his hand into the robber's chest and forced him to lie flat on his back.

"Stay."

The robber's eyes snapped shut and he sniveled and nodded.

"That was good. That was very good," The Chronicler appeared over his shoulder. "Now, for the piece de' resistance."

The orb hover a handsbreath above the pavement in line with the robber's head. Its eye lay trained on his neck.

"Well?" It asked. "Go on. Take a nibble."

"What?" Rami released the transformation.

The Chronicler groaned, "You are the Hellhound. You are the vigilante from hell. Got that? So, kill him and we can wrap up this issue."

"No," He was not going to kill, never again.

"No?" The robotic eye swiveled up to him. "Who the fuck said you have a say in this matter? You want to be in the League, you do what I say. You wanted to be a fucking super, now do as I say."

"Please," the robber whimpered.

"I'm not going to kill him for a fucking comic."

"It's not just the comic!" The Chronicler shot up to his eye level. "It's your life! Your fucking protection! Them fearing the absolute piss of you will be the only thing keeping them from putting a bullet between those little horns of yours. You got that?"

The Chronicler was right, wasn't it? He needed fear on his side. There was nothing he could do if some jackass with a shotgun decided to come after him, so he needed to make everyone too afraid to do that. But, did that mean he had to kill? And, if he did how many people would die before his image --his protection was secure? What kept him from being a villain if all he did were kill and maim to protect himself?

"You're going to add in a gun for the comics, right?" Rami asked.

"Yes. He'll have it with him now. No one will think it's wrong to kill him."

Rami nodded. He knew what he had to do.

The transformation overcame him in an instant. The robber screamed, Rami's fangs flashed in the light of his fire. He snarled down at the prone man, cutting his cry short as it devolved to a strangled gurgle.

Rami kept his teeth pinned against the man for a second, making sure the robot got its shot.

He pulled back and let the transformation fade again. The robber panted, and put a hand to his throat.

"Edit in some blood with the gun," Rami said.

"And what about him?"

"If you tell anyone what happened tonight, or if you ever even think about stealing again, then I'll have to kill you. Understand?"

The robber nodded vigorously.

"Good. Now, get out of here."

The robber crawled away, then got to his feet and ran into the night. The Chronicler was silent. Was that good? It was the first time all night it hadn't been cursing, and he'd just disobeyed it. That had to be bad, right?

Unless, maybe it was a test of the League. One final test of morality before truly accepting him into their ranks.

"Did I do alright?" Rami asked.

"It's your head," The Chronicler's eye looked down at him. "It's good for tonight, and I can make it look like you killed him, but one day soon they're gonna realize it's fake, and then, then they'll come for you."

The way the Chronicler said they made Rami think there was a specific they in the robot's mind.

"Who's they?"

If robots could breathe, Rami was sure the Chronicler would be holding it's breath as it tried to figure out what to say.

"There's a lot you don't know, kid. And there's a hell of a lot more I'm not going to tell you."

"Did you just call me kid?" Rami knew he should have pressed the robot, he should have demanded to know who they were, but that was the first time the Chronicler had ever called him something other than dumbass, or urchin.

"No, dumbass, I was calling the dumpster that. Now come on. Someone dumber than you is trying to steal from the Best Buy."

The Chronicler took off down the road, leaving Rami crouched naked on the sidewalk, wishing his power didn't destroy his pants.

Yep, just a normal night for a super.