Incredible Times

Chapter 4

I stare at my reflection in the sleek, stainless steel doors of the elevator. I shift my weight to one side, and the red and white blur mirrors my movement. My auburn hair, hanging loosely to just past my shoulders, looks like a fire in the hazy image. 

Next to my reflection is another blur, this one almost entirely navy blue. 

Mr. Paul Bushre, government official and superhero advocate, stands rigidly in the elevator with me. He makes no movement, except for the occasional twitch of his eye. Earlier this morning, I received a call from Mr. Bushre, inviting me to come here to discuss "superhero business." 

I wiggle my fingers in effort to calm my nerves. I have no idea what this meeting is about, nor do I know who will be present, if anyone. For all I know, this awkward encounter in the elevator could be just the beginning of an uncomfortable discussion with Mr. Bushre. 

The elevator dings, and as the doors open, I stifle a yawn. 

My tiredness is a direct result from my incredibly late night. As promised, Bob called me when he got home. However, he called at the exact moment that I was beginning to fall asleep, which kept me up even later. Not that I minded or anything. After a brief exchange, my already droopy eyelids closed shut, and I hit the pillow with a smile on my lips.

Mr. Bushre steps out of the elevator, and I gape at the sight in front of me. 

I step into a large room unlike any other that I've ever seen. A long, dark table runs down the middle of the room, sitting on polished, white tiles. Three of the walls are decorated with wooden panels that give the room a modern finish. The final wall consists entirely of glass, so clear it looks like you could pass right through it. We are high enough to be above the majority of the surrounding buildings, and the view is breathtaking. Sunlight filters into the room, bouncing off the tile and providing a bright atmosphere.

About a dozen people dressed in business attire sit at the conference table, evidently waiting for our arrival. Only two spots are vacant: the head of the table, and the adjacent seat to it. 

I am escorted to the end of the table by Mr. Bushre. 

"Please, take a seat," he says, indicating the head of the table. 

After we sit in our respective places, the woman sitting on my other side stands up.  

"Good afternoon to you all," she starts. The woman wears a maroon blazer over a dark shirt and dress pants. Her dark brown hair is tied back in a tight twist. She looks at me and says, "My name is Carla Gibbs, and as President of the Allied Superhero Association, I welcome you to this meeting to discuss an important topic." 

I must have looked uncomfortable, so she follows with, "Don't worry, I think you will be pleased with the news we have to share with you today." 

Mr. Bushre folds his hands on the tabletop, and says, "Elastigirl, the Allied Superhero Association has been impressed with what you have done for the city of Metroville. Over the past few months..." 

"Excuse me," I interrupt. A dozen pairs of eyes suddenly fix on me, and I feel small. I swallow, mustering up as much confidence as I can. "...but what on earth is this group you're talking about?" 

"Pardon me," Mr. Bushre says. "The Allied Superhero Association, or the ASA, is a prestigious group of supers that we, the founders of the association, have found to be worthy of being recognized as, well, a super."

The woman who stood earlier, Carla, adds on, "The ASA is not just a group for recognition. The members of the ASA have become very close with one another. Often times, members will establish relationships that will turn into strong friendships, or sometimes even partnerships. Either way, the ASA provides an outlet for supers to rely on each other when necessary.