Tempest loosed a deep breath, less annoyed than reluctant, before answering. "Yes, he escaped. I'm used to being first on the scene, since I can fly over whenever I get the call. That's why it's usually one on one, me and him alone, but this time there was two of us and he still got the better of me. I must have fought him over a hundred times in the last three years and I don't think I've ever seen him that far gone."
"Far gone?" I echoed.
His eyes snapped to meet mine, breaking out of the memory with force. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed."
Not wanting to appear stupid, I settled on, "Let's assume I haven't."
"He's completely out of his mind, like a rabid dog that's strikes out at anything nearby. That's how he always is. The other day, though, he seemed even worse, his power gone wild out of his control. Willow's fire — Will-O-Wisp, I mean — should have been able to melt all that ice easily, especially with my wind spurring her flames on, but we couldn't even touch him."
Leigh touched him alright. More than touched. I'd have to remember to let her know she was currently ranking above two Guild licensed heroes in the villain maiming department.
"He didn't seem that insane when I spoke to him," I mused, knowing my own admittedly brief interaction with the villain didn't really mean anything compared to the mountain of evidence I was sure Tempest had to the contrary. "He was intimidating, for sure, and scary as hell, yes—"
"He spoke to you?" Tempest cut in sharply, a bit of urgency in his usually light voice.
I blinked at his tone. "Well, yes. We weren't exactly giving each other compliments over tea, though."
"He actually spoke to you?" he repeated.
"That's what I just said."
"With words?"
"We weren't using sign language, if that's what you mean."
"What did he say?" Tempest demanded, the window blinds fluttering behind him from his power responding to his intense focus. "Tell me everything."
"There's not much to tell," I said, as I cast my mind back to the encounter in question. "Like I said, we weren't having a casual conversation; he was chasing me up three floors of a building. He didn't say much more than variations of 'Stop running' and 'Get back here', although he did tell me he didn't plan to immediately kill me, which I suppose was generous of him, not that I particularly believe anything he said. His actions and his words didn't exactly align."
"He's never said anything to me, or to the other Supers," Tempest murmured. "Never. Not after years of confrontations. We thought maybe he couldn't, for some reason. This changes everything."
Despite not normally being one to burst someone's bubble, I prodded further. "Does it though? It's not like he told me his first name, surname, social security number, and home address. Nothing he said makes it any easier to identify or capture him... does it?"
"You don't understand, the Guild Elders are convinced Shade is purely reactive, so that makes it difficult to anticipate his next move. If they hear he's not entirely without reason, they can strategize, they can come up with plans to end his reign of terror. It gives us a fighting chance."
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...
