Heir To The Elements 1: Rise of the Heirs

The Director

Vulcan stepped into the room; it looked almost exactly the same as the interrogation room, except that there were actually pieces of furniture in it.

“Why must all buildings like this have all the same rooms? Gives you a sense of déjà vu,” he murmured as he walked briskly to the center of the room where three chairs had been set up, none had arms and looked very Spartan.

Bolt and Tornado strode in behind him, trying to look as professional as they could. Which was not very much at best, Bolt tripped over a few steps on the way there and had a smug grin on his face and Tornado had stared at everyone they walked past, continually telling guards to “carry on” every time he walked past them.

As they came to a halt on either side of him, one of Vulcan’s hands rose to his forehead and he whispered, “Imbecile’s,”

They waited for a moment, Vulcan stood with his hands linked behind his back, unmoving he waited, but his eyes scanned the room constantly.

“Should we sit down?” Bolt asked while fidgeting.

“No, not yet, I want to be sure we are not going to be attacked before we do,”

“Would they really do that?” Tornado looked at Vulcan inquisitively.

“Yes, yes they would,”

“Why?” They both asked.

“That’s what they do; eliminate anything that could be an issue, which is a problem for us, because all of us are an issue,” Vulcan looked at his two companions, “we aren’t like them, even if we look similar. They could think we are a threat which probably means some kind of assault team is on its way right now,”

“Can they hurt us?”

“I don’t know, are you immune to bullets like Conduct?”

“No, I don’t think either of us are. Are you immune to them Vulcan?” Bolt looked slightly worried.

“No, so far only Conduct has managed that, I’m guessing if I try Volcano heat I might be able to stop most of the rounds by disintegrating them, but that would have to be about a minute into the technique. At the moment there’s no way I could pull that off,”

“Oh, well what do we do if they attack us?”

“Hit them first and try to fight our way out, simple, but not easy,” Vulcan’s eyes shifted forwards and stayed glued to the far side of the room.

“Oh, great,” Tornado looked down at the floor.

“This isn’t how I intended everything to go,” Bolt murmured.

“I’m not sure you thought much past having a cape and running around the city,” Vulcan grunted.

“You have a point,” Tornado mumbled.

“I knew you two were amateurs,”

“All three of you are amateurs in fact,” a voice echoed from behind them.

They all spun, on instinct electricity flared around Bolts clenched fists, Vulcan’s open palms each contained a small but rapidly growing fireball and the air around Tornado swirled around violently, fanning the flames in Vulcan’s hands.

A middle aged man in a suit stood in the doorway. He wore a finely tailored suit and there was no sign of any weapons on his person. Although it was clear that he would have at least something on him, he was in a room with three potential mass murderers. He was armed.

Vulcan’s arms lowered slightly and the flames began to die down, the others followed suit.

“Who are you?” Vulcan asked in a confident voice.

“I, I am the Director son and who the hell are you three?”

“We are the heirs,” Vulcan said and the other two nodded agreement.

“What the hell is an heir?” the man began to walk to his desk, which was heavily furnished with pictures of people, places and stacks of paperwork.

“An heir is an individual entitled-”

“Not that kind of heir smart arse!” the man spoke angrily.

Vulcan sat down before speaking, the other two followed suit, although in a much clumsier way. “An heir is one capable of controlling the elements, an heir, to the elements,”

“How is this even possible?” The man leaned forward slightly. Clearly interested.

“Order us something to eat and drink and I will tell you the whole damned thing,”

“Done, what do you want?”

“Anything, something with substance, and hold the cyanide,”

“Of course,”

“That will just make me angry,” Vulcan said with a hint of a menacing tone.

“I see,”

“Vulcan?”

“What Bolt?” Vulcan looked at his smaller companion.

“Can we have cake?”

“Cake!” Tornado shouted.

Vulcan slumped in his chair slightly. “Yes, if they can get you some,”

Tornado and Bolt cheered. Vulcan and the Director shook their heads slightly.

After a moment Vulcan spoke up again, “so what do you want to know?”

“Everything,” the Director leaned back in his chair, as if he was waiting for a very long story.

“We will be here for a while; you should probably order the food before we begin,”

“I understand,” The Director picked up the phone.

“Remember the cake!” Tornado said with enthusiasm.