League of Do Gooders, Ne'er do wells, and those of Evil Intent

Villainy 208: Basic Poisons

Like before, Ivan helped disguise me as a French lady with a beret and dark glasses. Unlike before, I completely forgot the name of the character, and I figured I could probably just wing it. I was sent out from the base, with careful attention to make sure I went through the door ("through the door" apparently only applies when the door is open), and I was on my way. 5 hours of walking from the base to the only auto mechanic I knew. If I needed sleep or food, it would have been a real bummer.

I spent most of the walk staring at the sun. I know that's not a normal human thing to do, but it's not exactly something anyone else can do either, and I liked to engage in the occasional superhuman luxury. It isn't precisely one color. It seems to gradually shift, like a big ball of fire soup. As I arrived in Oklahoma City, I saw the familiar sights. The massive blue glass building I learned to be the Devon Tower that I was going to steer clear of with all my might, Toby Keith Bar and Grill and the board walk, statues of greedy future land owners rushing their horses out to claim their property, a baseball stadium with a statue of some famous baseball player out front, and then just outside of the city proper, "Juan's Cheap Car Repairs and Stuff". I had practiced for this very moment. I delicately reached out my hand to knock on the door. There was no obvious response, just a gentle crackling inside. I was nervous about the concept of knocking on the door, so I picked up a few rocks and threw them at the door.

A very muffled "Come in!" emerged from somewhere in the back. I very carefully opened the door and entered. There were no obvious people, but the room was lit by a warm glow from somewhere near the back.

"Further back!" The voice beckoned. I could make it out as Lucas, but as if he was talking into a steel drum or something. As I eased my way through two incomplete cars and piles of scrap, I found the source. It was, as I expected, Lucas. What I did not expect was that his entire head and one arm would be gently resting inside a burning garbage can.

"I understand you may have questions." Lucas said, as professionally as one might if their head was currently inside a burning can. "But first, let me reassure you that I am under no distress. I was merely practicing a very difficult technique to create fire with my bare hands."

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I kept my mouth shut.

"Okay. You got me. It's not a technique. I am secretly an incredibly powerful mutant, training my mind and body in this burning bin of shredded documents. Come no closer, lest you learn the true meaning of fear."

He was not moving in the slightest. "Can... I help?" I asked.

"Oh thank God. It's the French girl. Yes. Please. My superpower lets me create a small fire for 10 seconds on one of my fingers. If I lose track of time, like... for example, if I get "Obladi Oblada" stuck in my head for over 24 hours and my internal sense of rhythm is tied entirely to Desmond's job in the market place... as a random example... then I might go over my time, at which point I lose muscle control of my limbs. Please gently lift me into a chair. I will regain motion shortly.

I pulled Lucas's head out of the bin as gently as I could. Impressively, his hair hadn't burnt off in the slightest. I helped him into a swivel chair, which he sort of slumped backwards in. His eyes turned to face me, while his head dangled awkwardly back in the chair.

"Thank you. Burning paper has a flavor, and it's not exactly pleasant. Oh! Look! I can move my ankle!" He jiggled his foot back and forth. "I'll be back to normal in 10... 20 minutes tops."

"So... what were you doing?" I asked.

Lucas clumsily rolled his ankle around, rotating the chair so that his floppy head could face me. It took an uncomfortable amount of time.