Breath hanging in the air, Bay flexed her fingers into the gloves. Dylan's hands steamed as he gripped the railing on the edge of the roof, peering down at the long, long fall below.
"Cool it," she joked, and he drew the heat from his hands with a sheepish grin. "Nervous?"
He nodded, and she understood. Who wouldn't be nervous? They were about to rob the maddest scientist around.
It's for a good cause, she insisted to herself, and it was true, but it didn't calm the unease that lurked in her heart. She flexed her fingers again, rubbing the arm that had so recently been broken, and tried to bury her rebellious feelings. Anything less than a wholehearted willingness to help was nothing short of ungrateful.
She and Dylan had been in an ugly crash, only months ago: their car had been hit head-on by a truck, and she and her friend would have been dead before the ambulance arrived if it hadn't been for Dr. Leslie Rose.
In this world of power, Dr. Rose had the gift of healing. In this world of balance, using her gift caused a growth in her brain. A malignant tumour that only grew with every subsequent use of her power. By the time Bay and Dylan crashed, the tumour was already serious. Dr. Rose had known healing them could mean her death, and she had done it anyway. Her condition had deteriorated quickly, and now she was in the intensive care unit.
Not more than two days ago, Bill Cunningsly, affectionately known by the world as The Mad Scientist, had announced he had developed a serum that disabled all powers in an individual; it had yet to be trialed on any humans, but mice injected with the concoction had become just that again: ordinary mice. Bay hadn't thought she would ever be free of guilt for the doctor's condition, so when Dylan came to her with a plan to help, she couldn't refuse.
"Ready, bae?" Dylan pulled a balaclava down over his face, and Bay cast him a dark look.
"I can hear that E."
He smiled, and then grew serious. "Walking only. If you run, we're blown. Remember that."
She nodded. Being a person of speed had drawbacks; while her brain was built for processing the information it was sent at inhuman speeds, it wasn't always so great on the logical end; often she found herself doing things before she really had time to think them through, and right now could not be one of those times. "Let's go."
They darted away across the roof to the air-vent, two darker shadows in the night. Bay watched, with a fascination that never seemed to grow old, as Dylan melted a hole through the grating. He touched each bar gently until the section grew soft and pliable, and carefully peeled it away from its place and stuffed it into his pocket.
"I'll check the ground," Bay whispered, when he only had a few bars left to go. This could be her last chance to run, and she wanted to use it - when she ran, she felt the heartbeat of the world in every step. The wind kissed her face in welcome, and her entire body hummed with the knowledge that it was alive. When she stopped, it was like the world lost a colour.
After satisfying herself that the streets below were clear, she jogged back to Dylan's side.
"I have the best power."
He raised an eyebrow. She could see it even in the dark, and through his balaclava. "You couldn't break the sound barrier when you were fit."
"Rude. So? That's what makes it the best, Dyl. The hardcore speedsters don't know what real running is like. Moving that fast, you just miss the whole experience."
"You keep telling yourself that," Dylan grinned, slipping through his hole into the roof. Bay felt a stab of irritation, but brushed it aside and dropped through the hole to land beside him.
