Power malfunction

“Mi cielo you wouldn’t believe the reports I’ve seen this week. The city feels like it’s auditioning for a dystopian reboot.”

Robin in the kitchen fixing drinks for the party

“Well, at least the city’s finally found its aesthetic. I’d call it urban collapse with character development.”

“Don’t laugh. Every day’s another headline. Armed robberies in daylight, muggings livestreamed for clout. It’s like the city forgot shame was a thing.”

Robin’s smile faltered, then came back edged. “Sounds like we should start selling front-row tickets. ‘Society: The Live Experience.’ I’ll even make themed cocktails—The Felony Fizz, maybe a Grand Theft Gimlet.”

“If you’re selling tickets, save me a front-row seat.”

Robin didn’t need to look. “I know that voice.”

Mark leaned into frame beside Erin, tie loosened, grinning confidently. “You miss me already, don’t you?”

Robin shaking the cocktail “Miss you? I was enjoying the peace and quiet.”

“Then I’m here to ruin it,” he said, eyes glinting like they shared a secret.

Erin sighed. “Every crisis, and somehow you two still find time for a rom-com.”

Before Robin could retort, the front door opened.

“Evie!” Robin called. “Normal people knock!”

Evie breezed in, a grocery bag overflowing with candles, and glitter that sparkled like poor decisions. Erin blinked on screen. “Should I be concerned?”

“Always,” Robin said. “Evie, what’s in the bag?”

“A ritual,” Evie said proudly.

Robin pinched the bridge of her nose. “Evie, I’m still under warranty. Your last spell gave me the worst luck—tripping over air, bumping into doors, random shit falling on me for a week. I looked like a blooper reel.”

Logan strolling in wearing a Superman costume. “She’s not kidding. My car still has a dent from your ‘good-luck cleanse.’”

“Collateral beauty,” Evie said.

Cleo’s voice floated from outside. “I’m with Evie! It’s Halloween weekend. Chaos fits the mood.”

Ian appeared behind Logan, adjusting web cartridges. “We’re adults in theory and Evie’s armed with candles. What could possibly go wrong?”

Robin sighed. “Fine. But if something explodes, I’m blaming Congress.”

Erin laughed. “That’s my girl. Call me when the chaos starts—I’ll schedule the damage control.”

Evie clapped, vibrating with excitement. “Perfect! Everybody outside!”

She herded them toward the backyard around the firepit “Sit, sit, sit!”

Logan eyed the setup. “You know this looks like every horror movie before the bad stuff starts.”

“Exactly,” Evie said, placing the final candle by Robin. “That’s how you know it’s working.”

Robin tightened her coat. “If I start barking in Latin, someone tase me and call it a night.”

“Everyone focus,” Evie said, lighting the circle. “Tonight’s energy is rare—the moon’s in something dramatic, and I’ve had three pumpkin cold brews.”

“That explains the chanting,” Ian muttered.

“Shh. Manifestation requires commitment.” Evie held out her hands. “Whatever superhero you’ve chosen, may the costume reflect your courage, your strength, and your absolutely terrible life choices.”

The flames flickered, the wind stirred, and for one second the air hummed like a secret waking up. Then—nothing.

Logan peeked . “That it?”

“The universe heard us,” Evie said, satisfied.

Ian grabbed a lawn gnome and tried to snap it over his knee. The gnome won. “Okay, no super strength yet.”

“Patience, my impulsive spider,” Evie said. “It doesn’t happen instantly. You have to let the spell marinate.”

“Marinate?” Robin said. “Are we doing magic or rotisserie chicken?”

“Both,” Evie said. “Give it till morning. If it worked, you’ll know.”

Cleo blew out a candle. “If I wake up with powers, I’m starting a GoFundMe for better friends.”

“Deal,” Robin said. They laughed, grabbed snacks, and drifted into a movie marathon, five friends cocooned in smoke and moonlight.

---

Morning sunlight poured through Robin’s kitchen. She yawned, flipped on the coffee machine, and as she reached for a spoon—

It floated.

“nope.” The spoon dropped. She waved a hand; it rose again, smug about defying physics. “Fantastic.”

She grabbed her keys and bolted.

Halfway down the block, something slammed into her. “Evie!” Robin wheezed, brushing dirt off her jeans.

Evie staggered up, wild-haired and panicked. “Robin, I’m freaking out!”

“You think? I’m losing to silverware.”

“I accidentally teleported the fridge into the bathroom when I was showering—and that’s not even the worst part.”

“What is"

Evie lifted a glowing sword.

“Jesus—watch where you swing that!” Robin pushed it down.

“I left this shit on my dining table, but it just appeared in my hands!”

Robin groaned. “Okay, if this freaky shit’s happening to us, it’s probably happening to the others. We got to find them now.”

She texted: **Emergency meetup. Coffee Haven. Now.**

Cleo: *I split my backyard.*

Ian: *My hands got glued to the wall.*

Logan: *Sneezed. Neighbor’s car alarm exploded. Twice.*

They met at Coffee Haven—their usual caffeine temple. The three looked like a crisis support group.

“Apparently I stick to things,” Ian said. “Walls, desks, my dignity.”

Cleo’s voice trembled. “I made the ground crack. It almost ate my recycling bin.”

Logan crossed his arms. “I sneezed and the stop sign folded in half.”

Robin turned to Evie. “You played witchy roulette. Un-spin whatever you spun!”

Evie threw up her hands. “You think I got a manual? It’s magic, not Microsoft Word—”

A thunderous boom shook the windows.

Robin’s stomach dropped. Smoke curled over the skyline. “Of course. First the city falls apart, now our Nutella danishes are toast.”

“Rob—wait!” Logan shouted, but followed anyway.

Smoke clawed at the sky. “Mrs. Patel!” Robin yelled, kicking through shattered glass.

They tore through the wreckage—Logan lifting beams, Cleo steadying the ground, Ian swinging down from a crumbling balcony, Evie slicing debris with her sword.

Robin found Mrs. Patel dazed near the counter. “Got her!” Together they hauled her outside as sirens wailed.

Ash and sunlight mingled. Robin looked back at the ruin and coughed a laugh. “Well. Breakfast got a little out of hand.”

---

The city dubbed them **the Sentinels**.

For a week straight they saved lives, caused accidents, and broke only half the things they meant to fix. Cleo stopped a collapsing bridge—then bent a bus stop. Logan learned to land but kept creating potholes. Ian’s webs worked great on bad guys but also, unfortunately, his own face. Evie’s portals mostly behaved, though grocery carts still disappeared into other dimensions.

And Robin—Robin was still learning what her powers even were. Magic, flight, telepathy—it felt like juggling lightning.

On every TV, Robin's aunt became the city’s calm voice in chaos. “Crime is down thanks to these anonymous heroes,” she said. “But unauthorized vigilantes create legal gray zones. Good intentions don’t write law.” Then, softening, “Still, they’ve given this city hope again—and I can’t argue with hope.”

Robin sipped her coffee. “Translation: thanks, but please stop.”

“She loves you,” Evie said. “Her love language is bureaucracy and mild disappointment.”

---

Robin’s phone buzzed. Erin again.

“You watching the news?”

“Trying not to. Bad for the blood pressure.”

“They’re calling him Cipher,” Erin said. “A man who erases what he touches. No prints, no footage, just absence. The east side’s turning into a ghost town. Stay away, mi cielo.”

Robin smirked. “Sounds like someone took ghosting to a new level.”

“This isn’t a joke. He’s fast, he’s smart, and whatever he’s doing—it’s coordinated. Don’t get involved.”

“Hypothetically… if someone wasn’t staying away?”

“Then she’d better be smarter than the man who makes cities disappear. Don’t make me find out you’re not.”

Call ended. The spoon floated again. “Yeah,” Robin muttered. “Totally staying out of it.”

---

The east side was too quiet. Streetlights flickered like a heartbeat fading. They followed the blackout trail to an abandoned metro tunnel pulsing blue.

“This is it,” Robin whispered.

“I was wondering when the anomalies would come to me,” a voice echoed.

Light flared. **Cipher** stood in shifting armor, his face a mirrored mask of glitching pixels.

“He looks like a murderous screensaver,” Evie muttered.

“I fix what’s broken,” Cipher said. “That includes you.”

He raised a hand. The air buzzed. Logan flew backward. Cleo’s shield shattered. Ian’s web disintegrated.

Robin threw a telekinetic blast that barely moved him. “You picked the wrong city.”

“You picked the wrong reality,” he said, and hit them again.

Robin slammed into concrete; Evie’s sword exploded into fragments. Everything went black.

A side door burst open—Mark, dust-covered, flashlight in hand.

He froze. “Robin?”

She coughed, smirking weakly. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

He caught her before she fell. “Right. Totally normal. Glowing, floating—just another day at the office.”

Robin you got to snap out of it

“I can’t,I dont how to fix this"she gasped.

“You told me hope was messy, So get up and make a mess of this fight. Come on, Robin—you don’t get to quit now. “Not when they need The Oblivion.”

“The what?”

“Your name,” he said. “The way you fight—you make fear disappear. You’re the city’s Oblivion.”

Something reignited. She rose, light unfurling behind her like dawn through smoke.

Her breath hitched, eyes searching his.

“You always this good at pep talks?”

“Only when the world’s on fire.”

Robin smiled faintly and rose, “Then let’s put it out.”

She reached out telepathically, to the others "on your feet guys ” she said, a small, dangerous smile curving her lips.

Logan hauled himself up. Cleo steadied the cracking floor. Ian fired a clean web, pinning a drone mid-air. Evie’s eyes burned; her sword reformed in flame.

Robin hovered higher, brighter than the tunnel lights. “Round two,” she said. “Let’s make it hurt.”

They moved like instinct—Logan punching shockwaves into Cipher’s shields, Cleo twisting rebar into traps, Ian zipping between sparks, Evie opening portals that shredded the drones apart. Robin centered the storm, deflecting blasts, guiding them wordlessly through her mind.

Cipher staggered, armor flickering. “You can’t fix chaos,” he hissed.

“Wasn’t planning to,” Robin said. “I live in it.”

Her final blast hit like thunder, knocking him flat. “The city doesn’t need a hero,” she said. “It needs someone too pissed off to stay down.”

Cipher’s armor cracked, light bleeding out. Silence followed—thick, unreal.

---

Minutes later, sirens wailed somewhere above the tunnel. Robin stood beside Mark, covered in dirt and adrenaline.

He grinned. “So. Superhero full-time now?”

She smiled faintly. “Only until the city stops breaking.”

Evie limped past. “Which means never.”

They laughed—tired, bruised, alive.

Robin looked at her friends: the chaos, the courage, the stupid, shining hope. “Guess we’re the heroes the city got,” she said. “Might as well make it count.”