Not All Heroes Wear Capes

Chapter 1

It had been about a week since that last time Rye had seen the blond in the coffee shop and he thought that he had either scared him off or embarrassed him enough that he wasn't going to show his face there anymore.

He wasn't sure what was the case but he was happy nobody had to deal with that guy--here at least.

Rye picked up his order and headed for the door, taking a sip from his drink. He reached for the door without looking, and in the next second his drink was out of his hands, all over him and the floor. This was not turning out to be a good morning.

He pulled his dampened shirt away from his skin, looking at the person who had opened the door directly into him.

Motherfucker.

"You," he said pointedly as he glared at the blond, "just when I thought I wouldn't see you again."

Andy's eyebrow raised as a grin started to form on his face, "Been thinking about me, have you?"

Rye continued glaring as he grabbed some napkins and tried patting his shirt dry, "Oh yeah. Kept thinking to myself, he's not being a manipulative twat here, must be elsewhere being a manipulative twat."

"Not that it's any of your concern, but I've been out of town--and manipulative twat? Really? I'd like to believe what I do is an art form," Andy was snide in his reply, but grabbed some napkins and handed them to Rye.

They shared a glance as he did so, neither one of them sure as to why he was helping at all.

"Yeah I'm sure you would," Rye said flippantly as he chucked his empty cup into the bin along with the copious amount of napkins he had used on himself and on the floor.

Andy's face contorted as he took offence, "Excuse me, what is that supposed to mean?"

Was he really this oblivious? Rye loved when people were able to use their powers to help others, and even to some extent use it to their own advantaged, but this power in particular is one he hated seeing in use. It didn't matter how it was executed, it was poor taste actually manipulating people into doing whatever you wanted, and if he thought there was anything artful about they way he did it--boy needed to get a clue.

"You can work it into a sentence, but it's not graceful and it's not artistic--" Rye exhaled sharply, crossing his arms, "and it's just shitty in general. You're telling people how and what to feel, what to do, where exactly does this stop? Art is beautiful. This is fucked up."

Andy got up as close he could in Rye's face, which amused Rye because their height difference prevented him from being anywhere near the realm of intimidating.

"Don't act like you're a saint, you know as well as I do life is easier this way--" Andy was stopped by Rye mid-sentence.

"--as well as you do? No, I don't. I have never done this shit in my life and I'm sick of twats like you running around doing whatever they want. I'll tell you what you bottle blond bitch, you're gonna stop this today or I'm gonna make your life a fucking nightmare." Rye knocked shoulders with Andy as he left the coffee shop, much angrier than he had even been the first time.

Know as well as he did? What was this guy on? Rye would never even consider doing this shit even if he had that power, but he was glad he didn't. It seemed like everyone like that was an insufferable prick.

He heard Andy exit behind him, shouting, but he stopped listening after five consecutive expletives. He was going to find out who this guy was and make him regret ever making his acquaintance.

Welcome to Hell, buddy.