Doctored Chance #NaNoWriMo2019

25 | Not According to Plan

In our dearly misguided and shallow nation, which we must appreciate no matter how unfair it can be, we have exactly three-hundred-and-sixty-six superpowered persons scattered throughout. Every superpower has at least one countering superpower, which can often be the immediate downfall of a great hero or villain. For example, one of the greatest villains in our history, the Perilous Veil, plunged all of Benediction—from the lighthouses stationed at the wave-breaking outcrops of the bay, to the jagged rock pools miles back from Central Benediction—in darkness for almost an entire year at the peak of his power. Then, the Ad Astra of their time, a young hero with supernova abilities, came of age and, long story short, the man with overwhelming powers of darkness could not cope with such light, and balance was restored after an almost anticlimactic bout of fisticuffs.

Invisibility happened to be one of Tobias's counterpowers, but he felt even further countered, and outmatched, by his feelings for her. It always felt unfair to fight against your counterpower—something he had rarely had to do, and even more rarely had to do alone—but it was a great deal more unfair when they happened to be your weakness in a more emotional sense.

I could not provide justice to the emotions Tobias felt as he clamped his clammy gloved hands on the desk and waited for his beloved friend to make a move. It was a complicated blend of anxiety, relief, love, and excitement. She would not show him recognition, he was almost certain of that, at least. He bit his tongue to keep himself from whispering her name, from telling her it was only him—it was Tobias! He bit his tongue to keep from asking her to put on protective gear. His heart pounded in his chest.

A blade stopped his breath, sharp and curved against his throat.

Brows high and arched, he met Viola Mae's purple, slanted eyes as they shimmered into view behind a black, angular mask and he stared with as much wonder as fear. His breath returned slowly, as steady and calm as his hands as they came off the bench to raise peacefully. Perhaps she could not see the marveling and excited little upturn of his lips behind his blue mask, but he knew that the slight wrinkle in her brow came moments after their eyes met and his creased and flicked from her to his still hands, to her.

The knife lifted slightly.

"Who are you and what is your business here?" boomed a voice to interrupt his moment's peace. Tobias whipped around, Spectre's knife pulling reflexively away to keep from slicing his throat and ending him then and there—which would have been highly against Higher Defense Headquarters' protocol.

Tobias's eyes narrowed and his fingers curled to trembling fists at his sides. "I work here. I worked with the head scientist," he growled through clenched teeth and incessant mental reminders to himself to keep it together. Benjamin Jones, the cowardly swine... He stood so boldly and superiorly in his spandex, chin tilted with his arrogance, as if goading Tobias to kiss his feet just for arriving. Tobias sneered inwardly, though behind his mask and fitted hood, schooled his expression to a blank slate. He tried to disguise his voice, speaking in a lower pitch and a slight accent, "I mistyped the alarm code."

Mr. Might swaggered one step closer, his wide chest a hair's width from Tobias's raised chin as he maintained tense eye contact with the fully-covered man dwarfed in his shadow. The arrogant hero's perfect, photogenic face broke into a perfect, photogenic smile, and Tobias began to sweat. "I think you are lying to me."

Tobias swallowed and shook his head. His mind went blank. Was this it? Had they found him out, already? His head spun. One hand slowly snaked behind himself, crawling cautiously but certainly towards the petri dish of S.S Inhibitory Virus. A sharp blade slithered across his knuckles, tearing open his glove, and he pulled his bleeding left fingers to his chest. The fingertips of his latex protection fluttered to the floor, exposing his red skin to sight and to contagions. He thrust his hand into his coverall pocket and pulled out a fresh glove; as a good scientist was always prepared. Though he had not stocked his pockets that day, a few extra disposable masks and gloves were tucked inside from a previous use.