#itlof

The streets buzzed with their usual midday rhythm, the scent of fresh bagels mingling with the occasional diesel exhaust. Hero sipped her coffee—black, bitter, and just caffeinated enough to keep her awake through the next twelve hours. The small corner café was one of the few places where she could exist without being “on duty,” blending into the crowd like any other city-dweller trying to survive the chaos.

At least, until the screams started.

Outside, a man stood at the intersection, his figure calm and deliberate against the panicked civilians scattering like startled pigeons.

Villain. Of course it was him.

“You know,” Hero muttered to herself, placing her coffee on the counter with a sigh, “one day—just one—I’d like to finish a cup of coffee without someone threatening mass destruction.”

She pushed the door open, the sharp winter air biting at her skin as she stepped into the street.

“Don’t you have a less public place to cause mayhem?” she called out.

Villain turned, his smirk subtle but unmistakable. “And deprive you of your caffeine break? Never.”

A faint hum filled the air as the glowing orb in his hand crackled with potential energy. Around him, a dozen civilians were huddled in terror, trapped by some kind of invisible barrier. He gestured lazily at them with the orb.

“You’re late,” he said. “I expected you to show up five minutes ago. Traffic?”

Hero’s lips twitched into a flat line. “No. I just thought you might’ve figured out a new hobby by now.”

“Oh, I have,” he said, tossing the orb lightly between his hands like a baseball. “This is a demonstration. Call it… market research.”

Her chest tightened. He wanted her to make the first move, to use her powers, but she wasn’t giving him the satisfaction.

“Let them go,” she said, her voice hardening.

He tilted his head. “Convince me.”

The orb flared, and one of the trapped civilians yelped as a spark danced too close. Hero clenched her fists, feeling the hum of her energy pulsing beneath her skin like an overcharged battery. She hated this part. She hated every part of this.

With a deep breath, she stepped forward. “You really want to do this here?”

“Why not?” His voice was calm, measured, but his eyes lit up with something sharp and calculating.

“Because you’ll lose,” she shot back.

“Lose?” He chuckled dryly, glancing at the orb as though weighing it. “If you say so.”

She hated his confidence. Hated the way he spoke like he was always five steps ahead. But most of all, she hated that he was right about one thing: she couldn’t win without collateral damage.

The orb flickered, surging outward with a crackle. That was all it took. She felt her control slip as her power rushed to the surface, energy spilling from her hands in a burst of bright, chaotic light.

Hero’s body jerked forward as she released the energy in a massive burst, sending a blast of electric force out in all directions, knocking the cables out of the way and disintegrating the streetlights that had been hanging overhead. The power surged through hero, making her head spin as the energy continued to rip through the air.

Hero barely managed to catch her breath, her vision already swimming with dizziness, black spots dancing at the edges of her sight. Every time she used her power, it drained her faster. Each time was more difficult to control. It was as if her body was fighting against itself, a punishment for pushing too hard.

The barrier shattered, civilians scattering to safety as the force surged toward Villain—who didn’t flinch. He stood there, watching her like she was a mildly interesting science experiment.

“Hmm,” he murmured, brushing some imaginary dust off his sleeve. “A little erratic, don’t you think?”

The hero collapsed to one knee, panting heavily, their energy flickering with the aftereffects of the blast.

Her hands shook as she fought to rein the energy back in, sparks burning faintly against her palms. Her chest heaved, the strain already starting to take its toll.

“Still standing, huh?” she muttered through gritted teeth. “Guess my aim’s off.”

“Guess?” He arched a brow, his tone sharp but calm. “You’re practically broadcasting. Dangerous move for someone with your… condition.”

Her glare could’ve cut steel.

“Next time,” he continued, turning away with an infuriating calmness, “I’d bring a backup plan. You’re going to need it.”

And just like that, he disappeared into the chaos, leaving her standing in the middle of the street, trembling, furious, and already regretting getting out of bed that morning.

There he is >:]

@ataintedcure

SURPRISE.

Bonus chapter: Vacation

If there was one thing Jack Morrison's mother taught him, it was that being a good neighbor meant everything. It put you in the good graces of the people you may need to rely on if an emergency ever arose. It was a good lesson, but the fact remained that when a new family would move in five miles down the road from their farm, Jack had to haul all the casserole dishes around.

So he simplified the neighborly duties to peanut butter cookies.