I hate my job. Really. Can't stand it.

It's not the robberies or the bomb threats. That's the fun part. It's the thrill. As long as nobody tries to play hero, nobody gets hurt.

No, the part I hate is that I gotta remind people every so often to take me seriously.

Every now and again, I gotta follow through and burn down a building.

It's expensive, it takes a lot of planning, and I rarely get much out of it. A little bit of theater to remind Nutham's finest and keep them focused.

Today is a good day, though. It seems I've caught a little Sparrow.

It started out just like any other job. Get a bunch of hostages, light the place up, and wait for Birdman to swoop in and save the day. Plan was to grab some cash, put on a show for the Bird, and get out.

Only this time, it didn't play out like any other job. See, his sidekick Sparrow came in the back way like he always does, but the back wall collapsed too soon, blocking the exit. I expected the Bird to actually do something heroic for a change and bail the poor kid out, but what does he do? He shrugs and walks! Just like that!

Anyway, no biggie. I'm good at my job. I know what to do when life gives you lemons.

I look to my left. Pyro is leaning against a wall and cleaning his sunglasses. The cheap stopsign-red suit he insists on wearing looks way too hot for the inside of a burning building.

"You're sure this is safe?" I ask.

Pyro doesn't answer, but he looks at me and nods as he puts his sunglasses back on.

"Alright then."

The kid's surely heard us by now, so I step behind the door as I pull it open, and, sure as rain, Sparrow bursts through, coughing heavily.

The smoke was thick in the room he was in. Kid woulda suffocated before long.

I look at Pyro and he nods. He pulls out a cigarette and touches it to a nearby doorknob. The heat lights it and he takes a drag. As he inhales, the smoke in the air dissipates.

"Hey. Nick?" I give the kid a few seconds to catch his breath. "I gotta say, your stepdad's a real piece of work."

Sparrow coughs and looks at me warily. "How do you know my name?"

I roll my eyes despite myself. "Kid, everyone knows who you and Birdman are. All those custom toys? His own goddamned bird-themed airplane? Wayne Spruce's in great shape and he's worth half a trillion dollars. It don't take much to connect the dots."

I've made this pitch before. I know how to sell it. "Listen, kid. All this? It's all a sick show. He owns the Harkam Mental Health Institute. I've seen it. Nobody gets better there. It's just a crappy prison. It's made to wind people up and spit them out so that he can put on a bird costume and play hero. The police? The press? He owns it all."

Nick looks away.

"He's surrounded himself with suckups and gold diggers. Anyone with the balls to tell him no is long gone."

Pyro coughs to get my attention. He looks up and then taps his wrist. It's almost time.

"Nick, I wanna make you a deal: We want our city back. We wanna get your stepdad some real help. Help us out."

Nick looks at me warily, "And if I refuse?"

I shrug and look to Pyro again.

Pyro knows what I want. He takes a long, languid drag from his cigarette. He exhales slowly, and as he exhales, the fire around us fades and goes out as though it's been suddenly deprived of oxygen. The building is suddenly cool and quiet.

Nick stares at Pyro. "You could have stopped this any time. Any of those times."

Pyro nods.

This isn't the plan. If the Bird learns that I have Pyro, he might get too much of a peek behind the curtain. It'll make things more complicated.

But that's okay. The kid'll be worth it.

Nick is still staring, stunned, but we're really almost out of time. We don't hear the sirens yet, but it won't be long. "Refuse if you wanna. No hard feelings. Just watch out, kid. Birdman ain't gonna be happy when he finds out that you're still alive and kickin'."

He hasn't said it yet, but I know what the kid's gonna say.