Mr. Forgettable #Wattys2016

12

Larkin was in shock. She had been poisoned. Someone knew who she was. They had poisoned her.

Someone knows who I am. That was the most unsettling part about this new development. Sure, Jacob knew who she was, but he wouldn't poison her. He didn't even know her weakness. No one knew about it. She was very careful about that.

Usually, gold could only deflect Larkin's powers. She had never ingested it before, and she hoped that she had vomited it out of her system before it did any real damage. Just as a test, Larkin attempted to absorb a pen sitting on the kitchen counter into her hand.

It didn't work. Larkin panicked. She repeatedly smashed her hand down onto the pen, hoping it would disappear like it was supposed to. It didn't. She panicked again.

No no no no no. Not now. Who knows what could happen? I can't get to my base. I can't protect anyone from anything. I can't do anything. I'm practically a normal civilian. She began to pace around her kitchen. Soon, the area of the room became too small for her pacing, and she abandoned the kitchen for the streets.

It may not have been her smartest decision: leaving the house when someone knew who she was, and while being powerless. She walked dazedly down her street, hoping that nothing catastrophic before the effects of the gold wore off. If they ever wore off.

Larkin knew that someone was out to get her. There could be no other explanation. She couldn't tell her parents, her friends, or even the cops. That would involve spilling her identity, which is necessary for her safety, as demonstrated by the gold incident.

Larkin fumed as she began to run. She needed safety. Her base was unavailable, for in a moment of stupidity, Larkin had built it without a secondary entrance. Number one on my to-do list: build a tunnel.

The only place Larkin could think to go was to the forest, the forest with the tree that housed Black Lightning's base. That forest happened to be about a mile from her house. Normally, a mile would be a piece of cake for Larkin. With a super's stamina, she could probably run a marathon.

A mile sounded like 5,280 feet of hell.

Not that she was out of shape or anything.

()()()

When the leafy green tops of the trees finally came into view, Larkin slowed her pace. She was covering the last few yards at a jog before abruptly turning into the woods. This patch of trees barely warranted being called a forest, for it was on the small side, however, the Markusville environmental committee claimed it fit the criteria.

As Larkin navigated her way to the tree she thought was Black Lightning's, she had to agree with the environmental committee; it was quite large. After peering up several tree trunks, Larkin contemplated giving up. Brown is brown. Bark is bark. A tree is a tree. They all look the same to me, she thought., letting her rambling thoughts fill her head.

Larkin stumbled between the trunks, exhausted because she A. had only eaten half a sandwich for lunch B. said sandwich had gold in it C. gold drains her powers, and D. Larkin isn't really that athletic.

It was a horrible combination.

She sighed and peered up another synonymous tree, wondering if she would get a peek of the wood pa eking of the treehouse. She had no such luck.

"Can't you just appear right in front of me and tell me where your stupid treehouse is?" she mumbled, silently hoping Black Lightning would hear her and rescue her from her endless search.

"I thought you just liked trees."

Larkin whipped around, startled, and came face to face with the super himself. Speak of the devil.