Careful wasnotin my vocabulary. As I charged forward, Ms. Keyes stood. The energy gathered around her hands. She moved with speed. The burst of yellow light didn’t make a sound. I lunged to the side, pressing myself against her awards. A filing cabinet exploded. I had a second to check that Booker was alright before I snatched a glassOutstanding Employeeaward, chucking it in her direction.
She blew it out of the air, shards of glass flying across her office. Before she could turn her attention back to me, I pushed off from the cabinets, launching myself into the air. I didn’t try to tackle her; instead, I rolled in front of her desk. She thought me reckless, a victim of my rage and impulses. I was far more calculating than she believed.
I studied her.
Her ability to feed off emotions was the least of my concerns. Did they feed into her ability to generate energy? Concussive, explosive, maybe heat generation? This was the first time she turned from a helpless employee into anactive threat. Her fist came down on the desk, surrounded by a canary yellow aura. Wood splintered, the desk splitting down the middle. Strength. Limited to arms?
I smashed into the lower cabinets along the wall. The aura crept up her arms, coating her shoulders. The calm in her eyes vanished, as did her pupils. Her lips had turned into the sinister grin I’d expect from an emotion-sucking witch.
Booker stepped into the office. She threw up both hands, the energy gathering. I couldn’t let her hurt him. The energy pooled, and I jumped in between them.
“Fuck,” I screamed. No heat. Thousands of needles stabbing along my shoulder blades. I growled as the intensity increased, forcing me to take a step toward Booker. His face was somewhere between horror and anger. If only I could read his emotions, I’d be able to?—
Booker charged. Arms wrapped around my chest. He spun me out of the way. He didn’t growl or cry out in pain. I never stopped to ask if he had any supplemental abilities. No, it wasn’t that. Keyes’ death rays weren’t striking him. They flowed around him as if he had thrown up a shield.
“I need your rage,” he begged.
I didn’t understand.
“Or we die,” he barked.
His expression struck like knuckles to the jaw. I argued for him to stay with Arthur, and he insisted we see this through together. I relented, and because of that, hebecame a liability. It wasn’t rage that surfaced, at least not the kind I usually felt when I stalked the streets.
Concern. Worry. Fear.
I would kill her if she hurt Booker. We had a standing date. There were books we needed to read. There were nights under the covers I wanted. The rage didn’t surface because of Keyes. Her determination to rob me of the best thing in my life—thatmade me mad. I’d start by snapping her fingers and move to bigger bones. I’d crush her windpipe so that smug grin would turn into lips gasping for air.
She screamed until a blinding light filled the room. Yet… it never touched Booker. Somehow, his powers created a protective bubble. Was he siphoning my rage as Keyes did with chaos? I’d sort it out later. First, I needed to save Booker.
I dropped low and lunged forward, my shoulder smashing into the broken desk. Windows shattered. Keyes screamed as she fell from the building. The desk slid out while glass rained down. I caught a metal frame as I followed suit. Hanging from the window, Keyes landed on the pavement.
“You’re fired.” Yes, I had planned a catchphrase before we arrived.
Booker rushed over, taking my other hand. He grunted, pulling me up. The four-story fall might not have killed me, but I’d rather not find out.
“Is it over?”
Had he never read the supervillain manual?
“Is she still down there?” I pointed out the window.
He raised an eyebrow. Peering out onto the sidewalk. “She’s gone. But how?—”
“They never die the first time.” Supervillains were like zombies. Headshots.
“So, it’s not over?” Booker might have powers, but he wasn’t adept in the field. This wasn’t his usual administrative paperwork and interrogations.
“Let’s go,” I said. “We need to find her and finish this.”
22
The leather stretchedaround my knuckles. I had set Drew aside. The situation required something more aggressive,somebodywilling to play dirty. My hands brushed against the batons on my hip. We arrived at City Hall Plaza, where Keyes had been spotted causing havoc.
“What now?”
Booker got out of the car, stretching his shoulders. My Tint uniform didn’t quite fit; it was tight around his belly. If this were any other situation, I’d gawk at the way it hugged his body. He laughed when I suggested he put it on. It was less about transforming into a hero and more about the carbon nanotubes and aramid polymers capable of stopping a bullet.
A boom filled the plaza. High above the city, I spotted Mr. Supreme duking it out with a caped villain. Off in thedistance, an explosion vibrated through the cement. Police chased a man with a television high above his head. The entire city had descended into chaos, the ripple effect of one villain who needed putting down.
