Truly, Tempest's fans were obnoxious, though my opinion of them may have been swayed to particular harshness due to my being in close proximity to their writhing mass of screaming bodies when Tempest finally deigned to arrive. By the time I saw him swoop in from the dusk-lit sky, the blood curdling wails had already begun. Several minutes later, my ears still rang from the caterwauling. He floated down in a tailored suit that, while still being appropriately fancy, had his Super suit colors of gold and gray, as well as his iconic half-mask over his eyes to conceal his identity. His hair waved from a gentle breeze.
Credit where it was due, I also blamed Leigh for my sudden loss of hearing. Had she not insisted we wait outside to watch the Supers arrive, my fragile, bleeding eardrums would still be in mint condition. They'd be safely tucked away somewhere within the Guildhall auditorium, preferably by a food table, with the rest of me. Did she care that most of the Supers physically lived inside the Guildhall, heavily implying that their dramatic arrivals were carefully contrived to feed the media circus? Where were we meant to believe they were coming from?
No. Leigh did not care about any of that, and apparently I was a buzzkill who she couldn't "take anywhere".
Somehow, Tempest found me amongst the throng as he did his rounds with his audience, greeting, hugging, taking pictures, all the nonsense his celebrity status implored him to do. Leigh managed to get him to take a selfie of the two of them for her various social media profiles, which felt like a particular low point in my life, because he wasn't merely some media-fictionalized version of a celebrity to me. I knew him well enough to be mortified at the idea that he might come to believe I was a fan, too, by my mere association.
Before moving on, Tempest pretended to give us a hug just to lean in close enough to tell me, "If you had come with me, you wouldn't need to worry about being crushed by these insane crowds."
He broke away quickly, as though anticipating my search for a sufficiently scathing retort, and moved on, urged along by paparazzi who wanted pictures of him scaling the red carpet.
"There's the Constable!" Leigh shouted to be heard over the crowd. "And Will-o-wisp. Do you think she remembers almost burning us to a crisp atop your sister's school?"
"Do you think she even noticed nearly barbecuing us at all?" I countered at equal volume.
"Fair point."
Neither Supers noticed us, and why would they? They waved graciously at the cameras as they ascended the scarlet steps, dressed to the very definition of glamour. Will-o-wisp dazzled in sparkling red with accented Guild Gray, and twirled little bursts of fire around her head like a ghostly halo, while the Constable was far more reserved in his stylings, donning his Guild Elder overcoat atop a gray suit.
Not too far behind the Constable clung Ren, the sisters Windless and Empathy, an unknown Super draped quite literally in plain steel gray from head to toe, a teleporter, and the water manipulator, Aqua. The Constable's own personal security force. Ren and Empathy seemed to sense me out of the surrounding people, there eyes drawn to mine amidst a hundred of others, then moving on just as quickly.
After a dozen or so more Supers took their turns humoring the crowd, all unfamiliar to me except for Boulder, Leigh found mercy in her heart and decided we could head on inside, so long as I snapped a few photos of her on the threshold of the building. Fine. Whatever. As long as we got inside as before someone identified me as the girl frequently all over the news with a bad case of Chronic Damsel In Distress Syndrome, I'd be fine.
We made it inside without any such disaster taking place, in part because I bleached my hair to oblivion the night before in anticipation of that exact scenario. With any luck, it would take weeks for the tabloids to catch onto my altered appearance and I'd be granted the temporary reprieve of a return to obscurity. If I found myself truly fortunate, Shade would also be fooled, though I didn't place much stock in that happening.
YOU ARE READING
Super•Villainous
Fantasy"I've been looking for you." There was an unexpected rasp to his voice, a hint of desperation. He stretched out one hand, as if to brush it across my cheek, or perhaps wrap it around my throat. Oddly enough, I didn't know which option frightened me...
