Jack Dailey had actually been the one to teach me that Storm Riders had to have a degree of discretion. It was best if people didn’t know that there were those who could control the weather in the world, kind of like the Men in Black—the ones from the movie, anyway.
But now we had to break into a museum, steal some old clothes, and get away before the cops arrived. Jack had complicated that with this thunder punch stunt. Now he and I used arcs of lightning between our hands to act as plasma cutters, which actually wasn’t as easy as it sounded. I had to keep laser focused on keeping the ionized channel strictly between my hands instead of allowing the lightning to ground out on the steel security gate.
“Jack,” I gritted my teeth, “you are so going to owe me for this.”