Super

40. the duper to their super

Mark walked the winding stone path down the garden. His expression was calm, thoughtful even, enough dispelling any assumptions that might have said he seemed moody—or at least, it could have been, except for his fisted hands shoved into his pockets, straining against his jeans.

Shao, who had been perched on a stone bench, grinned when she saw him come up the path, her silvery scar flashing like fish scales in water. The night sky was dark, but the harsh white lights from the floodlights lining the tall garden walls made everything look brighter. "You got thrown out, too?"

"I wouldn't say thrown out," Mark mumbled. He stood next to the bench for a few seconds, vacantly staring at the ground, and she raised her eyebrows at him expectantly. With a sigh admitting defeated acceptance, he sat down next to her, retrieving his hands from his pockets and resting his forearms on his knees. "Okay, yeah, I got thrown out."

She kicked up a foot to rest the heel against the edge of the bench, and interlaced her fingers. She fixed her hands over her bent knee and rested her chin against it, giving him a curious look. It seemed an impossible position to be in while wearing sturdy camo pants, but she managed it. Well, Mark thought, she was an ex-trapeze artist.

"Why?" she asked. There was nothing mocking in her tone, but a faint amusement lit up her eyes. "I understand why they'd want me to wait out here while weaponization was being discussed, but you're the master engineer and everything. It seems kind of—I don't know, stupid."

"I explained the mechanism of the Bracelight to them," Mark elaborated mournfully, head hanging. "And then I showed them how to work the controls to activate separate weaponry, but I forgot to turn on the safety, and as the controls were live—" He broke off, biting his lip. "Well, you can guess what happened."

"Actually, I can't."

Mark smiled at her ruefully. "I almost blew a hole in the middle of Ten's torso."

Shao stared at him for a few seconds, and he stared back, the smile fading from his lips like the details of a washed-out photograph. Then she threw her head back and laughed. It was a full laugh, nicer than he had expected, unrestrained and free.

He blinked at her with rounded eyes, unsure whether to laugh along or be offended. Before he could decide on an alternative, her shoulders ceased shaking, and her laugh relaxed into a wide grin. She set her feet back down, and leaned the heels of her palms against the bench, looking at him with the same disarming smile that seemed teasing and reassuring at the same time.

"I missed a lot, then," she said, eyes glittering. Her hair was tied back into a ponytail, but since her hair was unevenly chopped, strands and locks of it had escaped their bind and framed her face like limp vines the color of charcoal. "Still, they shouldn't have thrown you out. Can't have you falling to my level."

Mark glanced at her in surprise. If she was embittered by the last statement, she sure didn't show it, face still aglow with a now relaxed smile. "What do you mean, your level?"

She made a face, raising and dropping her shoulders in a single movement. "I don't know," she said. "My non-Super level, maybe. It seems crazy enough that I'm cruising along with you guys like some kind of human lackey."

"Human lackey?" he parroted, then frowned. "That's not true. We're a team. All of us, including you."

"Is that it?" She raised an eyebrow. "The others barely treat me like I'm human—they pretty much pretend I'm not there, like I'm an inconvenience. Baekhyun tries, but it's more of his unfailing politeness than anything."

Mark opened his mouth, feeling conflicted. Part of him wanted to tell her about Taeyong, but the rest of him said that it wasn't his secret to tell. "But—" he started, feeling upset at the dark turn in the otherwise harmless conversation. "Taeyong—"