Page 75 of No Capes
“Thanks for setting the fashion bar.” I slide into a seat across the table from her. “Compared to you, I look like cat food.”
“That’s not exactly news,” Arielle replies, remembering to smile a second too late. She has to adjust to being a real person again. “Brynn is at the grocery store. She was going to pretend she hadn’t heard about the travel ban, just to pick up some extra supplies for us. I also asked for some t-shirts. If we’ll be here for a few days, I don’t want to keep relying on Brynn’s closet.”
“Is it okay if we rely on her refrigerator?” I ask, “Because…”
“There’s fruit on the counter and cereal is in the cupboard. Coffee’s ready,” she answers, reaching for the TV remote. She clicks on a screen positioned on the wall above us. Brynn must be a serious cook if she has a TV in the kitchen. I stand and search for the apples.
“What’s our plan for finding proof?” I ask. “Is it possible to expose it on camera?” I hope she’ll know what I mean without my having to elaborate. Arielle said to keep Phil’s powers secret, but we need to talk about them.
Arielle shakes her head, her silky ponytail wavering. “Anyone who sees Phil on video suffers the same consequences as being in a room with him. He’s powerful.”
“Did Mom leave you any ideas?” I ask. Dark Static seemed convinced that Mom left something behind. If she was working on stopping Phil, maybe she had a file.
“If she did, I never found them.” Arielle takes a sip from her coffee mug. “I understand you’ve made a new friend. Who’s partial to working at night. Perhaps he can help?”
I face her. She knows about Dark Static?
“I saw you two at Hallowfest, right before I left,” she explains. “I understand he’s not who Phil thinks he is.”
“He mentioned hearing a plan for a monopoly on powers. Getting rid of Supers until there’s only one left.”
Arielle swears. Loudly.
Dark Static remains one of the last people I want to work with, but he seems to be an expert in breaking into Phil’s private spaces. We’ll need to talk to him.
“This just in,” a news anchor on the TV says. “An accident has occurred in the basement of City Hall. A collapse in the foundation has left former head of Community Engagement, Jack Wilson, dead. CCPD found him days after the collapse and no foul play is suspected.”
Arielle scoffs. “What an idiot.” I turn my back to her and pretend to be busy washing my apple. That tidbithadto be part of a cover-up. How else would Phil explain Wilson dying from kidnapping me? He could use Dark Static as a scapegoat, but D.S. had said Phil has another end for him.
“Sorry to interrupt, Tyler,” a woman anchor cuts in. “We’re getting reports of another strike from Dark Static. Our correspondent on all things Super, Flare, has the story. Over to you, Flare.”
Shrill cries and the shrieks of an ambulance drown out Flare for a few seconds. I lean on the counter as I brace for whatever D.S. did this time. If Flare’s reporting it, it can’t be good.
“Overnight,” says Flare, “the Super Dark Static single handedly destroyed Capital City’s food and water supplies.”
I squeeze the apple in my hand and remain facing the sink.No, no, no, no, no, no, no.D.S. had referred to his job as “odd tasks.” He’d failed to mention that they would devastate the city.
“Dark Static has left his calling card, a blue construction paper note, at every grocery store he hit. To attack the water supply, he exploded several key pipelines that pull from nearby reservoirs.” The audio switches to something outdoors, probably wind blowing around a scene of explosions D.S. created by shooting lasers at a store. “We have his note right here. It says, ‘All tricks, no treats.’”
I cough. D.S. is so not funny.
The newsman explains the consequences of D.S.’s actions, “Experts estimate that the closest food sources are about fifteen miles outside of the city’s limits. This will certainly affect us this weekend, as Mayor Bridges has enacted a travel ban on the city, which will be in place until underground testing has been complete. This will make it impossible for anyone to travel for food, be sure to ration your—”
Arielle mutes the television.
I can guess what she’s thinking: Brynn is out and about, dangerously close to the residue from D.S.’s explosions, because of us.
“Mother of Aces,” Arielle curses. “Phil’s let this go too far.”
Dingchimes the doorbell. We both jump at the sound, and Arielle leans back in her chair so no one can see us through the door or windows at the front of the house.
“I’ll get it,” Fox calls groggily. His footsteps thud down the stairs.
Arielle and I dive behind the kitchen island. She lands on top of me, and I land hard on the tile floor.
“Sup’ man?” Fox greets our company. “Yeah, come on in.” He wanders into the kitchen, followed by the one and only Damian Scott Jr.
“Really, Levine?” Arielle stands, dusts herself off, and glowers at Fox in a manner so menacing it’s almost funny. If Damian tells anyone he ran into us here… we’re all dead.
