The Wrong Genre

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Maestro shouldn't have been surprised when he got to the lair and found that the other heroes were essentially having a bash-party about how terrible his plan had been. 

And he wasn't. 

But Stravarius was, and his concerned assertion that no one should talk behind anyone elses' backs guilted everyone but Interdit into silence.

"Well he's here now, so I suppose we can just talk about him to his face," Interdit spat, taking the opportunity to do so. "Your plan could have gotten us all killed. It was incomplete and unpolished and terribly executed as well!"

"Actually," Maestro countered with his usual bland smile, "it was my fault." The heroes minus Stravarius looked weary at the concession, Stravarius smiled somewhat proudly at Maestro's maturity, and Romulus smirked. "The plan was fine, nicely constructed, but I failed to give you all enough detail because I foolishly assumed you were all intelligent."

"Even Zakum knew what the whole plan was," Romulus drawled without prompting. "Who would just assume that Rabastian was in the room anyway? You were obviously supposed to corral him."

"And what of after him being trapped in the room? What was the plan to actually capture him?" Flashmob demanded.

"That would be why Zakum went into the attic," Maestro replied readily, but he refused to expound. "This is irrelevant. The plan clearly didn't work, but I am not the only one who has explaining to do." He turned specifically to smile back at Flashmob. "You generally have impeccable control of your powers. Mind telling us why you almost killed all of us earlier?"

Cheeks flaring a brilliant shade of red, though no one was sure if it was anger or embarrassment, Flashmob opened her mouth to retaliate— and then closed it again, lowering her head.

"...I have no idea."

Maestro and his entourage all looked skeptical and Stravarius looked concerned, but what caught Maestro's eye was the way the other heroes reacted. Kyle and Vertigo looked concerned of course, but it was almost as if they sympathized. It was Interdit who really got his attention though. Generally when faced with the perceived incompetence of another, Interdit expressed only disgust or his own superiority. This time was strange— he didn't look concerned for Flashmob like the others, nor did he look the least bit sympathetic. Instead on his face was a look Maestro had never seen before on the likes of him, but if he had to put a word to it, he would probably say... unsettled.

It wasn't like Interdit to be worried about something that wasn't affecting him directly, and if he knew the source the worry would be lost in anger. This reaction meant that something was wrong, and it wasn't only affecting Flashmob.

"What happened to the rest of you?" Maestro demanded, his eternal smile fading as he puzzled over what all of this could possibly mean.

"My field reversed," Vertigo volunteered after a moment. "My power slows people down, but while we were in that building it seemed to speed things up instead."

"My sheathes refused to come off again," Kyle added, hands shaking as he again fiddled incessantly with the things, assuring himself that they could in fact be removed.

"And you?" Maestro asked Interdit directly— it was a pertinent question and important that he answer, but he couldn't resist the urge to smirk just a little bit more condescendingly. Interdit's hackles seemed to raise at the implication that something had also gone wrong with his power, but the fact that he didn't explode immediately only confirmed that something had in fact happened.

"I didn't have the opportunity to use my power," he sneered— then, seeming to realize that statement may imply that he had been at fault, turned the sneer from Maestro to Flashmob and tacked on "someone's haywire power made sure of that." Flashmob's hands clenched to fists, but she made no move to retort.