Chapter Text
Sentry was the first superhero the world had ever known.
There had been many powered individuals through history, working quietly from the shadows to stop injustices and maintain the careful balance between good and evil.
Sentry’s appearance into the public eye had come with no warnings or explanation. Distrust and fear slowly turned to love and admiration, and for over a decade, Sentry protected and served the Earth, bringing forth a new era of peace and stability.
But Sentry’s tale is not one with a happy ending, and a day came where the world witnessed, horrified, the end of their hero.
There was no one left capable of opposing the dark forces invading the Earth, or at least that’s what they thought…
From the ashes of the fallen, a young hero emerged.
Entranced, the world watched as Sentry’s successor fought and won the seemingly impossible battle. While the world celebrated and cheered their saviour, a mother stared at her son from the other side of a television screen.
“Jack, what have you done?” she whispered to herself, with a heavy heart and tears threatening to run down her face.
And thus, from Sentry’s fall, Centurion was born.
Bitty left the insurance company in a huff, angrily marching down the street.
“Can’t cover ‘collateral damage due to power inclined individuals’,” he said in a high pitched voice, imitating the entirely and unapologetically unhelpful woman he had just spent an hour arguing with. “Fucking heroes and their stupid battles in this goshdang city!” he yelled frustrated.
“Amen!” the woman walking towards the insurance office replied.
“Ma’am,” Bitty said blushing and throwing a slightly embarrassed smile at her over his shoulder. She gave him a commiserating smile and a wink.
Instead of taking the bus, Bitty walked. The roads were partially blocked with pieces of debris and traffic for the next few days would be a nightmare. The subway was still working, but ever since that time he ended up trapped inside overnight, he had developed an annoying apprehension of going underground.
Not for the first time, Bitty wondered what a world without superpowers would be like. No more heroes and villains and epic battles at the most inopportune times, with extensive and expensive collateral damage.
Wistfully he thought of his bakery shop, and how it had been barely a year since he opened it. Sure, it was a pretty small location and everything inside was probably as old as Bitty, but it was what he had been able to afford and he had been determined to make it work.
His parents had come to help him set up, he and his mama had scrubbed the place top to bottom, Coach had fixed the lighting, and the three of them spent an afternoon painting the place a lovely light peach colour.
Sugar Pie might have been small, but it had been warm and inviting.
Bitty had put his heart and soul—not to mention all his money—into his shop and he had been doing so well!
Despite the slow start, he finally was getting some regulars and had a few contracts making desserts and bread for restaurants around the area. His big break had been right around the corner; just two weeks ago, an executive of The Food Network had been talking about having him over as a guest for one of their shows, and now everything was falling apart thanks to those super idiots with their powers running around in tights.
He was barely a block from his apartment, when the idea that had been percolating in his head finally started to take shape.
It was maybe time to give in and use his trump card.
Having a quick look around, he discreetly walked into the alley next to his apartment building. Once he didn’t feel completely exposed, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes and reached within himself.
Most people assumed that having powers meant you would end up either destroying or saving a city on a regular basis, but Bitty would politely like to disagree with that stereotype. He grew up with perfectly reasonable career expectations in mind and he only wore tights during Halloween.
In fact, for the first 16 years of his life, Bitty had been unaware he even had powers. He had always just assumed he was slightly more fortunate than others. But once his powers really started to become too noticeable, he dedicated himself to finding a way to control them.
It was such a harmless power, barely worth noticing, so it was understandable that Bitty never considered trying his hand at hero work. Instead he kept his secret, carried on with life, and if maybe occasionally he let himself have a little bit of extra luck when he needed it, well, that was just his business. It’s not like it was harming anybody.
Frowning a little, Bitty gently eased the tight hold on that spark he visualised inside himself and let it spread. He felt the warmth of his powers under his skin, from the centre of his chest to his toes and fingertips.
A sudden noise startled him, and an insistent tug in his gut told him to hide next to the dumpster. By now very familiar with his powers and perfectly aware that not obeying the tugging sensation tended to have terrible consequences, Bitty rushed to follow his instincts and crouched next to the dumpster, nose wrinkling with distaste at the smell.
“Should I toss it in?” a male voice with an accent Bitty couldn’t quite place asked.
“I don’t give a fuck, just ditch it! We’ll come back later for everything,” another voice replied urgently.
Bitty heard footsteps getting closer and held perfectly still, one hand over his mouth and nose to avoid any noises. Something heavy was placed on the ground, and then two sets of steps hurriedly walked away.
He waited a few moments before standing up, and very suspiciously followed the insistent tugging of his power. The box wasn’t made of cardboard, and it was more like a container with a broken top. Bitty lifted the corner and his eyes widened at the contents.
It was filled with random gadgets and tech, which looked very much like the dream props of a hard core sci-fi cosplayer. Another tugging had him picking up the gun on top of everything; he carefully studied it, making sure his hand never touched the trigger.
A cat jumped from the first floor, scaring Bitty and making him drop the gun. There was a strange whirling sound in the background, as he and the cat stared at each other. The cat imperiously walked away, deeming him unworthy of its attention.
“Rude,” Bitty called out, “what on earth—” he started to say, looking at the gun which had lighted up on the sides. The wall of the alley now had a strange patch of ice, and it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.
Gently, Bitty picked the gun.
He stared at it, curiously pointed it to a corner of the alley and fired. He only held the trigger for a second, but it had been enough time for the space to be covered in a thin sheet of ice.
It seemed Bitty had found a freeze ray, and seriously, this is how his powers were gonna help him? This was the opposite of helpful. Bitty could literally think of no use a weapon like this could have in his hands.
He hesitated in front of the box, unsure of wherever or not he wanted to see what else was in there. Nothing there looked like it would help him rebuild his bakery, but the tug of his powers was firm and insistent.
Realising it was not a good idea to stay in the alley in front of what was a box full of possibly illegal or stolen weapons, and that, worst case scenario, he could bring the box back, he placed the gun inside and carefully picked the whole thing up. It was suspiciously light, but he would worry about that later.
III
Under normal circumstances, Bitty would never advocate solutions that were of less than legal means, however desperate times called for desperate measures.
In a fit of both fortune and misfortune, Jenny, the executive producer that had expressed interest in his bakery, had called him in tears just as he arrived to his apartment, asking if there was any way he would be able to do the catering for her wedding. Bitty placed the box on the ground, attention diverted to a more important issue.
The wedding was on Saturday. This week, in other words, three days from now!
Bitty had been about to decline, since Sugar Pie’s kitchen had received most of the damage and there was no way he could cook for sixty people at his studio apartment. However, Jenny quickly informed him the hotel where she was having her reception was willing to allow him to use their kitchen, and some of the staff had even volunteered to help out.
“Oh, thank you so much,” she gushed, relieved, after he hesitantly let the tugging in his gut push him into saying yes. “I called about twenty people and nobody would even consider it! I can’t believe I was lucky enough to find your card on the floor, I think I must have dropped it at some point.”
“Haha, yeah, how lucky for both of us,” Bitty said with forced enthusiasm. Damn him and damn his powers, this was exactly why he kept them off most of the time—they were far too unpredictable to rely on. “Alright hon, let’s talk menu!”
The box and all of the contents was pushed into his closet after Bitty tripped over it twice, Bitty was quickly overcome with the planning for the dinner and forgot completely about it.
III
Bitty had never told anybody about his powers. He had plenty of conflicted feelings about them without asking somebody else to weight in. If Bitty were asked to describe how his powers worked, he’d shrug, and try his hand at giving a compass analogy.
When he used his powers, he visualised a goal, and the powers ‘tugged’ him in the most beneficial path to achieving it. He had experimented a little at the beginning, curious to see what happened when he didn’t follow that tugging, and it was never good. In fact, not following his internal compass led him to some truly unlucky situations.
It was those experiences that prompted Bitty to lock his powers tightly. Otherwise, he got a lot of conflicting advice on strange and random things to do. Bitty preferred making his own decisions without pushy input from his gut.
Besides, luck was a double edged sword and just because he got what he wanted, it didn’t exactly mean it always happened easily.
Case in point…
Two days later, Bitty was clutching to his cup of coffee like the lifeline that it was, cursing himself for giving in and using his power. While the money from catering the wedding would definitely go a long way to help with the repairs from the shop, it didn’t mean he was exactly thrilled about having gone without a good night’s sleep in the last few days, or having to deal with the stress of planning everything with very little time.
He had stayed awake all night prepping the ingredients in anticipation of the dinner, and had luckily managed to take a nap in the break room. As he washed his hands for the fifth time in hopes of finally getting the smell off, Bitty dearly hoped this would be the first and last time he had to cut a small mountain of onions at 1:00 am in his life.
At least he would have a few extra hands for the actual cooking.
Rinsing his cup, he pulled out his phone. With the onions done, he only needed to do a final check on the supplies and ensure everything was in order, then finally go home, shower, sleep for a few hours and come back the next day for the most intense day of cooking of his life.
He left with the unpleasant feeling of having forgotten something, and it wasn’t until he was in the middle of his shower that he realised what.
The butter!
The suppliers had forgotten the butter.
Frantic calls to their offices went unsurprisingly unanswered at this hour, and while he quickly used his phone to try and find a store that was still open and would also sell the type of butter he needed, he wracked his brain for ideas on how he was even going to pay for it.
The last of Bitty's savings had gone to buying the food for the wedding, Jenny had already given him a check to cover that, but it would take a few days before the money appeared in his account, and he couldn’t possibly call her at 2:00 am the day before her wedding asking for butter money!
This time it wasn’t a conscious choice to reach for his powers, but a complete desperate move, that in his frantic state, Bitty did with none of the usual care he always applied.
Instead of the small tugging or gentle nudging that usually showed him what choices and paths would yield him the best results, his mind was overcome with the sure belief he needed to get dressed immediately and hurry out of the door.
He barely registered he was now standing in front of his closet, eyes fully focused on the box he had found and unable to get his mind to concentrate on anything else. The vicious tugging continued, till with a trembling hand Bitty grabbed the freeze ray gun. His powers settled, momentarily satisfied and Bitty took the time to take stock.
He was wearing dark shorts, trainers and a plain white t-shirt. The address to the grocery store was at the top of his mind, and the freeze ray was firmly grasped in his right hand.
It felt as if he was going under-dressed to a nice restaurant, which was a silly feeling to have. The tugging was starting again, and Bitty knew he had better follow it before he managed to land himself into worse trouble. However some precautions needed to be made.
Bitty didn’t really need a costume.
He supposed if he had a grand plan to kidnap the president or blow up the moon he would put more effort into his aesthetics, but his brief stint in the life of crime was starting with an expiry date already set.
He only needed to hide his identity for a limited amount of time, so an old red hoodie he wouldn’t mind throwing away afterwards and a hastily put together mask would do.
Oh, and the freeze ray. Can’t forget the freeze ray.
Leaving his apartment dazedly, Bitty promised himself to make time to practice his powers. It seemed they had grown considerably since the last time he had let them roam completely free.
III
As he self-consciously walked towards the store, Bitty’s mind wandered. He now knew what his powers were pulling him into, and it wasn’t a particularly pleasant idea.
Robbing a grocery story was one of those things Bitty had never pictured himself doing, but his power was too wild for Bitty to try and contain until he followed through with the path it was laying out for him. Besides, with how powerfully it was directing him at the moment, he didn’t want to try to imagine the consequence of opposing.
If blame for his actions was to be distributed, Bitty would begrudgingly accept, on behalf of his powers, 50% of it.
The rest would have to be evenly distributed among the following:
- The robot army that had nothing better to do on a Tuesday.
- The superhero who thought punching one of said robots into his shop was a good strategy.
- Sunny Insurance for refusing to cover ‘collateral damages due to power inclined individuals’.
- The supplier who forgot the butter.
Bitty took a deep breath and instead of resigning himself to his fate, he chose to embrace it. He made a careful assessment of the street and the best escape route. Then, making sure the mask was properly in place and the hoodie was up, Bitty entered the store.
Above him, a pair of eyes sharply followed his progress, and quickly flew after him.
III
It is important the record shows that despite his powers and the armed robbery he was in the middle of—did freeze rays fall into that category?—Bitty was not going to become a villain. He was just trying to do the best he could with the terrible hand he had been dealt this week.
“Freeze!” a voice firmly ordered from behind him.
Maybe because of his lack of sleep, the adrenaline currently rushing through his body and the fact his powers were fully unleashed, Bitty couldn’t help but laugh.
“I don’t see what’s funny about this situation, but perhaps the police will be more amenable to your humour,” the same voice stated in a dry tone.
Bitty rolled his eyes, feeling reckless and overconfident, since with the current state of his powers, there was no way the situation wouldn’t end in his favour.
“You’ll understand in a sec,” Bitty said, and without turning around shot the freeze ray from under his arm. He held the trigger for long enough his index finger felt numb and then quickly pivoted with a smirk. “Appreciate the joke now?”
The superhero—oh, and that was Centurion, which was just all kinds of ironic, considering this was the same asshole that had destroyed his store—was now stuck to the wall. Bitty stared in anticipation as the man tried to free himself.
He took the time to examine him up close. Centurion wore a skin tight suit, made of some form of reinforced spandex. It was almost entirely black, aside from the stripes on his sides and under his arms, the LD logo on his front and the knee high boots, which were all the same lovely blue as his eyes. Bitty felt he needed to send a thank you card to whoever had designed it, because truly, it was a pleasure to see.
On his head, Centurion wore a metallic blue circlet that covered his forehead, temples and went all the way down till it touched his cheekbones. Bitty could understand the need to protect those, because Centurion was unfairly handsome for such an asshole.
Bitty had seen this man lifting cars, trains, chunks of metal ten times his size, and once, an entire cruise boat on television. Yet despite his considerable struggles, he stayed trapped.
They were both equally surprised by this turn of events, and awkwardly stared at each other for a moment.
“Ok,” Bitty said more to himself, because this was just incredibly surreal, “I’m gonna go ahead and—”
“Let me guess, leave me hanging?” Centurion sarcastically suggested.
Bitty felt immediately offended. “That was terrible! Why would I say that?”
“In my experience, most villains like to use puns,” he said bluntly, trying to use his now glowing hands to break the ice without much success.
“Right, because you superheroes don’t love your banter sessions before a battle,” Bitty said, rolling his eyes, and quickly added, “I am not a villain!”
“Then why are you wearing a mask?” Centurion felt the need to ask.
“Because what kind of idiot doesn’t wear one when they don’t want to be recognised?” Bitty snapped, giving him a pointed look. And really, he still didn’t get how nobody had found out this man’s secret identity already.
Deciding to ignore the superhero, he returned his attention to filling his backpack with what he had come to get in the first place.
“Is that… is that butter?” Centurion asked, stopping his attempt of melting the ice with laser vision. It was rather fortunate for Bitty that the man had such high morals that he wouldn't use his powers on a seemingly normal human being. “You have a freeze ray and you’re using it to steal butter!?”
“Yes!” Bitty snapped impatiently, struggling to close the backpack with the gun in hand. “It is a perfectly justifiable thing to steal, thank you very much. Do you know how expensive white truffle butter is?”
Centurion seemed truly shocked into silence, then he said in a pained voice, “You are the worst villain I’ve ever encountered.”
“Well bless you,” Bitty said, putting his backpack on a little more aggressively than was necessary, “because you are the first superhero I’ve encountered, and yet I have managed to get you frozen to the wall. I ain't no expert, but I think this isn’t how things are usually supposed to go.”
Centurion was clearly not pleased with this assessment.
“You won’t get away with this!” he snapped back angrily. Bitty snorted at the ultimate superhero phrase cliché.
“Think of this as an opportunity handsome. Maybe you can use this time to work on your one-liners, because they’re pretty terrible and your good looks can only carry you so far,” Bitty said as he walked away, giving him a lazy salute with the freeze ray.
“You should probably have called the police instead of filming this,” Bitty told the wide eyed girl, who was still holding her phone up and was kind of gaping at him.
“I, um, I kind of thought Centurion had it under control?” she admitted, eyes drifting to the cold gun with some apprehension.
Bitty laughed as he passed in front of her. Unable to resist, he looked over his shoulder, straight at the camera, and winked.
“It’s been a pleasure doin' business with y’all!”
The girl let the phone drop to the floor and cursed. Bitty laughed again.
III
The wedding went off without a hitch. The food was spectacular, and Jenny was so grateful she booked him a weekly regular segment on the top cooking show of her network.
The pay was pretty good, and Bitty estimated in a month or two he would be able to save up enough money to get his shop repaired. It wasn’t strictly an ideal situation, but things were working out for him.
III
“Sorry bro, this ain’t working,” Holster said with a shrug, letting the fire coming from his hand fade out.
“I thought we kept you around for melting shit, what use are you if you can’t do that?” Lardo asked, popping some gum obnoxiously.
“Ha-ha,” Holster said sarcastically, “why don’t you harp on the actual ice expert over there instead?”
“Hey, don’t look at me, I already told you that’s not normal ice,” Ransom said shrugging.
“Then what is it?” Jack asked through gritted teeth. It was really the icing on the cake that nobody could figure out how to free him yet.
It was bad enough he let his overconfidence get to him, which had gotten him beaten by an amateur, but then he had to embarrassedly ask the girl hanging around the store to call backup for him. And because his bad luck wasn’t over, backup came in the form of his gleeful friends, who spent a good ten minutes laughing until they cried, while taking numerous photos of him. They didn't even try to stop the girl from uploading the video to the internet.
“I don’t know, the guys at the lab are working on it,” Ransom responded. “My best bet is that it’s some form of binding agent that solidifies when it comes into contact with oxygen.”
Holster looked up from his phone. “Wait, like some sort of frozen superglue?”
Ransom tilted his head in consideration. “I suppose that’s not a bad comparison.”
“Hey boss, turns out your petty thief is actually pretty smart,” Holster said.
Jack closed his eyes and prayed for patience. A sizzling noise brought his attention to the right, where Lardo was pouring something on a small patch of the not-ice. Whatever it was, it immediately dissolved it.
“What did you do?” Jack asked, hopeful that this meant the scientists at the lab had figured out how to free him.
“(CH3)2CO,” Lardo said smugly.
“Acetone?” Ransom asked, puzzled.
“Yeah, best way to get rid of super glue I know,” Lardo said with a satisfied air. “Alright you two, come with me. We are gonna need all the nail varnish remover in store.”
“Make sure you pay for it first!” Jack yelled after them, “and the gum too!”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t nag,” Lardo replied back insolently, which wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to.
Jack let out an angry huff, tired of people walking away with the last word. When he got his hands on that damn thief, there would be hell to pay.
III
Bitty found the video of his encounter with Centurion in YouTube almost immediately, and played it at least ten times in a row. Apparently the girl’s phone had received some damage during the fall, because the sounds were full of static and his voice was barely discernible.
It had been pretty lucky for him that she dropped the phone. If he wanted to keep himself safe, he would have to stop taking stupid risks.
He played the video again, staring at this confident version of himself taunt and out-wit Centurion, the greatest superhero on earth, like it was nothing. He clutched the scrap of red fabric from his mask tightly.
The smart thing to do would be to get rid of the evidence, burn it possibly. Lay low and maybe move to a different city, but he was still kind of riding the high of winning, and more importantly, the satisfaction of getting a bit of petty revenge on the asshole that destroyed Sugar Pie.
Now that Bitty had a taste of what using his power at its full potential was like, a dangerous idea was forming in his head. He had lived his whole life pushing down his powers, and it was so liberating to not worry about the consequences and just let go for once.
His powers at their full potential, with the help of the gadgets he had found, had been more than enough to match Centurion. Something not even in his wildest dream Bitty would have thought himself capable of.
Bitty briefly thought back on the idea he was trying to ignore. Just because he had these powers didn’t mean he should use them; it seemed like a slippery slope that he wouldn’t be able to get back from.
Then again, it wasn’t like he needed to target innocent people. He wasn't trying to get rich or take over a city, he simply wanted to get his shop back. There was nothing he could do about the robot army, but the Sunny Insurance was an entirely different matter.
He opened Google and after a second of indecision, let his powers slowly out.
“Yes Google, I am feeling lucky,” he said as he typed in the search bar. The first result was a list of all of Sunny Insurance's big clients. Bitty made a triumphant sound.
He knew stealing wasn’t right, his mama would kill him if she ever found out what he had done, but technically, he wasn’t stealing. Bitty was settling unfinished business. He wouldn’t take a single penny more than what they owed him, and he would only hit companies with bulletproof contracts. The only one losing money would be the same insurance company that had found a loophole to screw him over.
He pulled out some paper and started making plans; he had a busy month ahead of him.
The first thing was dedicating a few days to test everything inside the box and work on his powers. It took him a few tries and a small burst of luck to figure out some of them, but soon he was practicing with the gadgets instead of guessing what they did.
His powers remained as inexplicable as ever, but Bitty at least felt capable of controlling them to the level he had been used to until now.
A week after Bitty’s first adventure into the life of crime, he felt ready for a second. Out of a lack of better ideas, he donned the red hoodie and mask again, and let his powers flood in a gentle current under his skin.
He hummed as his fingers danced over his collection of ‘repossessed’ high tech gadgets, neatly spread and sparkling invitingly over the kitchen table. He had been tempted to only bring his freeze gun since it had worked so well before; however, his hand was compelled to grab something else before he was ready to leave.
Bitty picked up a small remote control, similar to a car alarm and pocketed it. Then, still humming distractedly under his breath, he left the house.
III
Bitty had always dreamed of having the kind of life where he could just waltz into Williams-Sonoma and get everything that caught his eye. In a way, that was exactly what he was about to do; only he wouldn’t be paying a single cent.
If you asked Bitty, they were practically begging to be robbed with those criminal prices.
Williams-Sonoma would unfortunately not be open till late, since they had normal business hours, which subsequently increased the risks of the whole venture. After consulting his powers to make sure it was a sound idea, Bitty decided to rob the store before it opened for the public.
Which is why at 7:00 am, Bitty was happily listening to one the employee’s nervous rants about the benefits of one stand mixer over another. Bitty had caught a glimpse of the price and smirked, imagining the bill the insurance company would be getting.
“I’ll take two of this one, in cherry red and cream.”
Things had been going ridiculously easy, so it was only natural that the impending arrival of trouble was foreshadowed by the sound of thunder and wind picking up outside. He sighed, annoyed.
“Alright you fine citizens, go move over there where you won’t be in the way,” he instructed, and the only five employees that had been in the store rushed to hide behind the counter. “Much obliged,” Bitty said as the store shook once. Bitty didn’t need to turn to check, because it was rather obvious who was walking through those doors.
“You know kid, for a newbie you’ve had quite the debut,” said an amused voice, “but your outfit could use some work, a red hoodie? Really?”
“Well ma’am,” said Bitty turning around and extending his arms grandly to show he was unarmed, a cocky smirk in place and his power gleefully wild, “my mama always said it’s only polite to leave a lasting impression behind.”
“I don’t say this often, but for a bad guy you don’t seem like a total dick,” she said once she noticed all the ‘hostages’ safely and unharmed out of the way.
“Thanks kindly,” Bitty said demurely, because it always paid to be polite.
Thunderstorm laughed, and it impossibly seemed to echo all over.
She might have been shorter than Bitty, but it felt as if she had the presence of a giant.
Her armour was as complex as it was imposing, made of leather looking material in small plates interwoven together. If Bitty were to guess where the inspiration was coming from, he’d say it looked like the scales of a dragon.
She had a shimmering piece of red fabric wrapped around her waist as a belt, and bronze coins adorning her shoulder blades. While Bitty would have loved to ask about her armour, because it seemed pretty heavy and not very aerodynamic, his attention was quite taken by her weapon. He had seen it on television and was still surprised by just how massive the thing was.
The axe’s pole was as tall as its wielder, the blade coming out of the jaws of a bronze dragon, and the axe itself was likely as long as his arm. He was sure normal people would never be able to lift that monstrosity, much less efficiently wield it, yet it rested comfortably over Thunderstorm’s shoulder, a hand lightly placed on the long shiny handle to keep it from shifting.
Bitty vaguely remembered seeing the first press conference the superheroes held when their superhero team went legit. The press and internet had exploded with information of their backgrounds and superpowers. If he was not mistaken, Thunderstorm was some form of demi-Goddess originating from Vietnam.
He made a mental note that if he managed to survive this encounter, he would do some actual research into the superheroes that frequented Samwell City. After all, once is happenstance, twice coincidence and three times a pattern, and Bitty sure as hell wasn’t waiting unprepared for the third time to roll around.
“Shame I gotta bring you in, bro,” Thunderstorm said with a smirk, once they had both silently assessed one another. She seemed clearly unimpressed with him, and Bitty was perfectly comfortable admitting he was terrified. “Make the smart move and surrender; I’ll even throw in a lift to the police station in that deal. Resist and I’ll still take you, bruised and unconscious.”
Bitty made a show of thinking about it to buy himself time. “Tempting as that offer sounds, I’m afraid I'll regretfully decline.”
The woman raised one of her perfect eyebrows, and then shrugged. “Major guts, dude. I’ll give you that.”
The atmosphere around them changed and suddenly the air was charged with electricity. The axe starting giving out sparks and for a moment Bitty’s skin felt too tight. He was pretty sure she was just trying to give him a good scare, but he stood his ground.
Despite the cocky and charming persona he was adapting, Bitty’s heart raced with panic as he waited for his power to tell him what to do. Not a second later, as Thunderstorm gave a lazy step forwards, he felt the familiar tug in his gut.
Bitty’s stomach dropped to his feet.
He would be the first to admit he had been making some ill-advised choices lately, but this one would perhaps be the most foolish of them all. Rashly, and before he could realise what a fucking terrible idea this was, Bitty ran.
Bitty ran, not away from the powerful thunder Goddess, but towards her.
For a split second, she seemed absolutely baffled by his idiocy, but regained her senses twice as fast, shifting her axe to a firmer grasp and spreading her stance for better balance. Bitty’s knees bent and she raised the axe, ready to intercept any attacks from above.
Which is exactly what Bitty had wanted her to do; using all of his momentum, Bitty threw himself, not upwards, but downwards, sliding smoothly on the tiles and passing under Thunderstorm’s legs. Not wasting a second, he blindly grasped at the fabric he felt touching his face and, using the shelves now in front of him, he catapulted himself in a smooth and graceful arc above his opponent.
Thunderstorm tried to move her axe to hit him, but Bitty twisted his spine like a cat and landed in a crouched position, which he took advantage of by knocking Thunderstorm’s legs out from under her. Blinded by her cape, which was now over her head, and off balanced, she hesitated for long enough that Bitty was able to stand, his shoulder making contact with her torso.
She fell backwards, but her fall didn’t stop at the floor, and instead continued through the blue shimmering portal Bitty had opened behind her. He managed to catch a glimpse of Thunderstorm yanking the cape out of the way, staring upwards, enraged, and he couldn’t resist giving a cheeky wave as he pointed the small remote towards the portal, closing it with the superhero safely on the other side.
Bitty waited for a moment as his adrenaline went down, ready for anything. Once it was clear he had miraculously pulled another win, he let out a deep breath and pivoted on the spot.
“Alright!” he said clapping his hands once, making all the employees, staring at him with wide terrified eyes, squeak. “Where were we before that untimely interruption?”
The employees hesitated from their cowering spots.
“The food dehydrators?” a timid voice suggested.
Bitty snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “That’s right, good memory; get me one of those, please and thank you! Come on y’all, quit dawdling.” He clapped his hands a few times at them, herding them in the direction of the baking section. “Chop, chop, the faster we get through my list, the faster you’ll see the back of me!”
That seemed to be motivation enough to send them all scurrying to fetch things. Bitty efficiently directed them while they loaded his loot into another shimmering portal, opened with his trusty inter-dimensional portal remote. He made sure to keep half of his attention on his powers at all times, which proved to be a good idea, as the tugging was quick to let him know when it was time to go.
“For obvious reasons, I can’t fill a client satisfaction survey, but please know you’ve all been wonderful today,” Bitty said enthusiastically, once the last of the boxes had made it through. “Thanks for your cooperation, and have a lovely day!”
And that was the moment when the police SWAT team broke into the store, just as Bitty jumped through the shimmering light and the portal closed behind him.
An awkward silence broke out, before one of the employees turned to their manager.
“I think I’d like to take my break now.”
III
Somewhere in Madagascar, a sudden and violent thunderstorm lit up the sky.
III
In his apartment, Bitty laughed while hugging his new blender and twirling on the spot, he stopped to admire all of his new baking equipment in their nicely packaged boxes. He was tempted to pull everything out and start baking immediately, but out of the corner of his eye he caught the list stuck to his fridge.
He sobered up, remembering he still had work to do, and a limited amount of time to get it done by. Manoeuvring around the boxes, Bitty reached his laptop and started by Googling Thunderstorm and her scary giant axe.
Her axe apparently had a name, and it was “Búa Đồng Thần Thánh,” which translated into “Divine Bronze Axe.”
Bitty listened to the YouTube video he found of Thunderstorm in front of a small herd of children, slowly and patiently teaching all of them how to pronounce it.
It took him a while, but Bitty managed to get what he thought was a decent enough approximation of the name. After all, if one came to be as close to losing their neck to something as Bitty had been today, it seemed prudent to learn what that something’s name was.
III
Lardo returned to headquarters soaked and in a terrible mood.
Jack met her eyes first and silently studied her state. She could feel the smugness radiating out of him, and she promised herself to hit him extra hard the next time they sparred together. She glared at him, then at everybody present who was pointedly not looking at her.
“If anybody,” Lardo said slowly, enunciating each word painfully clear, “says anything about my cape—” she didn’t finish the threat, just let the statement hang in the air for a few seconds, before leaving at a brisk place to her quarters.
Ransom turned to Holster, arms crossed. “Bro, from day one I've been telling her no capes!”
Holster nodded sagely. “I know man, but we might want to go really far away before she sees the Edna Mode memes we glued all over her room.”
“Too late,” Shitty said from behind his newspaper, the sound of thunder connecting with the ground punctuating his statement. Ransom and Holster made distressed noises and scattered.
Shitty and Jack fell into a comfortable silence, appreciating the soothing sounds of the rain in the background.
“You think he’s going to be a problem,” Shitty said placing The Daily on the table.
“Stop prying,” Jack said sullenly.
“Stop projecting your emotions if you don’t want me to address them,” Shitty replied back. “Seriously bro, don’t let this fucker get to you. He’s just a thief with fancy tech that got the drop on you two cocky motherfuckers.”
Jack crossed his arms and looked away. Shitty wasn’t fooled and could feel that the pep talk was exactly what his bro had needed to get out of his funk. A small whisper of gratefulness timidly reached him, and Shitty hid his smile behind the newspaper, skipping ahead to the sports section.
Jack threw one last look at the headline, which boldly proclaimed:
“Beginner's Luck or the Rise of a New Villain?”