HERO

57 / The Office

Silence takes many forms. It can be merely an absence of sound. The world, or perhaps just one's ears, holding its breath, waiting for sound to return and fill the void once more. It can be stuffed with tension, overflowing with anticipation or fear or eagerness.

Silence can be a weight that slams down on the ground, shaking it, and you, to the core.

Iain's announcement brought with it the latter. It was profound and it was crushing. Both Thomas and Bren felt the air had been squeezed from their lungs and no amount of inhalation could suck it back in. The weight on their chests was invisible, yet still very real. Insubstantially substantial.

Iain gave them a few seconds for the news to sink in. It was a secret he'd held back from his son for all of the boy's life. He could understand the looks on both the children's faces and was sure he'd be the same if their places were swapped. He did feel sorry for Thomas. It must be hard for the boy to discover his father not only gave him up for possible death, but was also the world renowned scientist that brought powers to the world that had been reserved only for movies and comics. His work was important, however. Vitally so. It was world changing, and his loyalty and priorities had to be in the right place, unfortunately for Thomas.

His solution had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. A cure for his wife's cancer had come too late for her, but Iain could take comfort in the knowledge so many more had been given gifts none could have imagined.

He would make his son understand. He would show the boy all his father had accomplished. Thomas would be proud. Iain could at least have that from his son before handing him back over to the Spotters. He'd have to, of course. It was too dangerous not to, for so many reasons.

Iain counted down from ten to give the pair tie to assess the information he'd given them. It was all he could spare. He was too close to perfecting his second formula to spare any further time for such distractions.

"So, are you going to listen to me? Do as I ask?"

His tone was fairly light, but had a shadow that suggested the question was more of an instruction. Thomas and Bren had yet to speak, and their words were still tumbling around in their shocked minds. He had to take their silence as acquiescence. If he didn't get to his office, he wouldn't be able to keep an eye on the Spotters. Though he had known David, their leader, for many years – and could almost call him a friend – he knew the man had a task to carry out. Any personal relationships would be set aside, at least until that task was completed.

Thomas and Bren nodded. They followed Iain without a word and, when they entered his office, they stood against a wall next to each other.

Iain's office was more of a laboratory. Offices have a desk and computer. Perhaps a bookcase and table lamp. A coffee cup in dire need of bleach soak rather than just a perfunctory wipe or swill out. There was a desk, covered in paperwork and rough sketches of seemingly nothing in particular, and a computer and a table lamp, but there the similarities ended. One wall was a mass of moving images, projected by an unseen source, showing various locations in the city. The park Thomas had been captured in. His home. His school. The remains of Oscar's lair, with the bodies of the murdered children covering the floor like a bloody, misshapen mosaic.

There were streets and buildings and rooms that Thomas didn't recognise in the mix, but he didn't focus on them. He didn't even pause when the camera showing the fallen children changed viewpoint and settled on Alex, though he felt a distinct, and sharp, pang of guilt.

Instead, he was watching the movement of the Spotters. They were showing from three different directions and were making light work of scaling the cliff.