Super•Villainous

XLIII

I held my breath until my lungs burned in case the others magically heard the nearly silent hiss of air releasing out of my nostrils.

The two men, and the lone woman that accompanied them, were so caught up in their own hushed discussion, so certain in the unbreachability of their private chamber, that I slipped initially beneath their notice and they walked right past my hideaway, unawares. Slowly, so slowly, my eyes never straying from their backs, I brought one hand to my neck and pulled up my hood over my head. With any luck, it would provide temporary anonymity at first glance. Then, as quietly as possible, I stuffed my pilfered papers under my shirt, tucking them snugly into my waistband to provide additional support.

A smart person would have cut their losses and discarded them. Left them behind, lest they be later discovered on my person and used against me. For better or for worse, I did not count myself amongst the privileged ranks of those with a functioning brain. If I had any such faculties, I wouldn't have found myself in that mess in the first place.

The three in knee length Elder robes stopped in the doorway to the Constable's office. I tried to eavesdrop, but struggled to hear anything over the pounding against my eardrums, an echo of my thundering heart. One shift of their collective gazes and I'd be directly in sight. My meager cover covered so very little.

The instant I took my first step out of my hiding place, it hit me that I would never make it safely across the room undetected. I had hesitated too long in that spot, or not long enough, and they would see my flurry of movement out of the corners of their eyes, but by that point I was already visible and had no choice except to simply cut my losses and go for it. Run. Run, and hope for the best. Run, and keep on running, because I had no good explanations for my presence, and when they eventually searched me, they would find confidential files that I had no business touching.

"Wait!" The voice, the Constable's voice, rang with authority. "Who is that? Who are you to be up here? I command you to stop and reveal yourself!"

Respectfully, no.

I kicked out the leg of a nearby table into their path as I hurtled by. They sprang into action, crashes sounding against my back in that cluttered room as they prioritized making chase over avoiding the obstacles that separated us.

I rounded the winding set of stairs with enough speed to whip the hood off my head, scrapes pebbling my palms where the harsh stone bit into them as I chose to propel myself off of the walls at each turn instead of sacrificing valuable speed by slowing enough to change direction. The scratches mended almost instantly, though a phantom of pain lingered. While still out of view from my pursuers, I ripped my hoody over my head and tossed it down one of the adjoining corridors. Perhaps without it they wouldn't know who to look for. A vain hope, but I clung to it, even as I detected the chlorine smell of ozone, followed by a weak jolt of lightning channeled through the floor. Good thing stone was a poor conductor of electricity, or else it would probably have had me seizing face down on the floor.

Gathering momentum, I leapt to the bottom of the next set of stairs straight from the landing. My leg gave, and I dropped to one knee at the base with a painful crack that had me hissing in a sharp breath. No matter. It would heal. I always healed.

If I could count on nothing else in my life, I could count on that.

No doubt looking disheveled with papers shoved under my loose fitting shirt - black, since that was the color one generally wore to commit crimes - I barreled into the dinning room to scattered disapproving stares. The meal hadn't started yet, evidently, because only roughly a quarter of the chairs were filled, a dozen more people mingling around them, and more laughter echoing from down the stairs towards the first floor below. I locked in immediately on Leigh's father and brother across the room humoring an elderly woman with rings adorning nearly every boney finger. I made for them, only to be intercepted by a man in a suit of gold and Guild gray, a blinding smile beaming at me below his half-mask.