Something felt off, Robbie knew it.

Maybe it was the unusual chill down his spine as he picked Gabe up from school. Or the way Gabe joked about a black car that seemed to be going the same place they were. Regardless, something was wrong. And Robbie was starting to get nervous. Because if someone decided to start shit, there was no way he could become Ghost Rider take over in front of Gabe. He didn't want his little brother to know what he was.

Robbie was trying to move quick as he lifted Gabe out of the car and back into his chair. But he wasn't quick enough. A gunshot echoed through the empty streets as a bullet fractured the back windshield. Robbie pulled Gabe back out of the chair and laid him on the ground.

"Robbie-" Gabe gasped fearfully. Robbie hushed him, looking around frantically for the source of the gunshots. He spotted a man dressed in black, a Fifth Streets Loco bandanna tied around his arm.

The man raised the gun again, aimed straight for Robbie. But before he could pull e trigger, his body went rigid. It was almost like he was being restrained by an invisible force. Gabe whimpered, prompting him to follow his little brother's gaze. And he saw you.

You were standing on the sidewalk, a single hand outstretched. Your fingers trembled and the gang member slowly turned the gun on himself. With a jerky clench of your fist, the gun fired and the assailant fell over dead.

"Inhuman," Gabe said fearfully, his eyes darting back to Robbie. He'd seen all the posters and heard the PSAs from the Watchdogs that worked all over America, they both had. They all said the same thing: Inhumans are unpredictable, dangerous, and there's no telling what their powers were until they decided to use it on you.