Super•Villainous

Act 1: I

Not my best week, I decided as I stared, more than slightly annoyed, up at the massive chunk of what I could only guess was once a part of a building. It pinned me to the ground beneath its massive weight, the jagged edges digging grooves into my hip bone. I tried not to think about the damage to my jeans. My most comfortable ensamble ruined, and for what? Just so another lunatic could try to destroy the city again? I found this place as frustrating as anyone else, but the dramatics were getting painfully old.

As I attempted to work myself free, I heard a second explosion and glanced up just in time to see Tempest fly by in the direction of the noise. Most people had already fled the area, lucky enough not to be weighed down by debris, so when he happened to glance over his shoulder he spotted me immediately. I groaned as he changed direction from the literal lunatic blowing up the city and floated to a stop at my side. To be fair, he probably thought I was a tragic little old lady at first. That was my fault. I'd went through a quarter-life-crisis about a month ago, leading to the questionable decision to dye my hair silver.

"Are you okay, ma'am..." the large white eyes of his mask seemed to widen as he got a second look, "I mean— miss."

Did I look okay?

Because I at least liked to pretend I wasn't a raving bitch, I said, "Just dandy. This is exactly where I want to be."

"Oh, really?" Tempest cocked his head to the side, suddenly sounding unsure.

The boy-wonder didn't understand sarcasm. Duly noted.

I grunted as I attempted to lift the massive slab again. "Look, I'm fine. Never been better. My boyfriend ran off like twenty minutes ago to get help. He should be getting back by now."

Tempest pulled out of his crouch to look around, left, then right, then left again. "Are you sure? I don't see anyone, like, at all. Maybe he got lost?"

I bit down on my irritation. That prick left me! I supposed being trapped gave me ample time to prepare my breakup monologue, if nothing else.

"Yeah, maybe." Another explosion shook the ground beneath us and I flinched as something sharp stabbed into my leg. I glanced sidelong at Tempest. "Don't you have some place to be?"

"But you—"

"Can wait," I finished, and nodded towards the trail of smoke rising to our left. "That, however, cannot."

He hesitated only a second longer, before conceding my point.

"I'll be right back!" he promised, holding out a finger in the universal "Just wait one minute," signal, and a surge of wind picked up around him, tossing my hair widely about my face, and lifting him away towards the chaos.

Batting my tangled locks out of my eyes, I turned back to my current predicament, frowning. Although I'd never exactly been the screaming type, my own calm was beginning to unnerve me. I was trapped beneath a building, alone and unsure when another explosion could send a different building to crush me. I ought to have been hysterical, but all I felt was burgeoning annoyance. 

"Well, this isn't going to lift itself," I muttered, trying again.

Gripping the underside of the debris, I pushed up with all my might, heart pounding from strain. The uneven edges bit roughly into the meat of my palms. I stopped only when I deemed that the risk of getting a hernia outweighed the probability of pushing myself free.

For a not-particularly hot day, I was covered in sweat, resulting from my brief moment of exertion. I could ignore that in all it's unpleasantness, even ignore my hair sticking uncomfortably to my forehead and neck, but what I couldn't ignore was all the soot, ash, and dirt that saw the perfect opportunity to paint me dull shades of gray. With my hair being the shade it was, I very well might have resembled a statue found in Lincoln Park, the kind absolutely covered with bird droppings and the occasional stray leaf. All I needed were a few pigeons on my shoulders and I'd be all set.