The Dinner Treaty

Chapter Nine - Trickery at its Finest

The pink goo on the streets has finally been washed away, people's clothes have been cleaned, and the city has gotten over the slime rain of '18. I need to do something new, something truly evil before the city's residents forget who I am and what I'm capable of. But that's not today's agenda. Today, I'm going to break PinK's arm. Or rather, I'm going to fool my brothers into thinking they broke PinK's arm. 

I got a little stir-crazy yesterday, so I  went to the hospital and 'borrowed' one of their cast-cutters and some plaster tape.  I go down to the garage, and carefully slice open my cast.  I know this is probably going to add weeks to my prison *ahem*  cast time but who cares? I need to be PinK, so PinK needs a broken arm too.   The cast comes off in two clean halves and I carefully slide the black support sleeve over my pale wrist. Then, I put on some elbow high grey gloves. You can barely see the difference between my right arm and my left now. I shove the supplies in a random cupboard and sling a rose-gold backpack over my shoulder. It's filled with all sorts of supplies: A special new dust-bomb, eyedrops, spare dust-bombs and some other essential items. I go to leave the house and almost trip over my untied shoelace. I sigh and make a clumsy, attempt at tying it up with one hand. My mother walks up behind me and sees me frustrated and failing. "Want a hand?" She asks, and I reply with an appreciative smile. "Yes, Thanks." I feel the weight of her stare on my arm as she redos my shoelaces. "PinK needs a broken arm too" I offer, as a reply to her unspoken question. "Be careful" is all she replies.

I walk out the door and leap into flight, fighting a strong wind into the heart of the city. I click my heels and dust begins to spray the crowded streets, carried by the wind.  The powder is nearly harmless of course - it's just pink pigment and itching powder. But I need something to alert my brothers to PinK's presence. A cacophony of car horns blaring and people shouting in alarm only aids my attempt to draw my brothers in. As expected, they come flying at me faster than I've ever flown. I dodge, but Luke's obviously been practicing and he pulls my hair, hard, on the way past. I blink back the pain that washes over my scalp and plaster a smirk over my surprise. "Hair pullings a bit petty isn't it?" 

Luke and Carter are flying in front of me, which means Mike is coming at me from behind. I twirl around to see empty air, before being literally jumped on from above. I fall towards the ground and shake my head in an attempt to regain my senses.  This is my chance. Using my powers to slow my descent just enough to reduce most of the impact, I  land on my broken arm. Grunting in pain, I use the eyedrops hidden up my sleeve to give the impression I'm crying, and I allow my arm to flop at a strange angle. My brothers land with three echoing thuds, right in front of me. "You've been practicing." I acknowledge, my statement laced with a condescending tone. "Bravo." 

I reach into my backpack and grasp a more sinister dust bomb. Pepper and chili powder, designed to temporarily blind. I throw it to the ground and hold my breath. My siblings hack and cough, only their silhouettes visible through the dense cloud of pinkish red. I take the opportunity to escape into the air, weaving through the high-rise buildings towards home.

When I arrive, I don't bother going in through the front door. I go into the garage and slip on a spare change of comfy clothes, then peel off my gloves and the protective sleeve over my wrist. Then, I soak the spare strips of plaster-tape and use them to glue the halves of my cast together over my wrist. Good as new.