Shimmer *The Seattle Superheroes*

Chapter Thirteen: Raining on Their Parade

Chapter Thirteen: Raining on Their Parade

Seattle; July 1, 2010; 3:18 p.m.

Life has a way of taking people by surprise. Look, for example, to the year 846 BCE, when Rome found itself under siege. Imagine the surprise of the good Catholics when the defilers of St. Peter's were not immediately struck down by lightning. Look to the fifteen hundreds, when colonists and conquistadors discovered that they were not, after all, landing in India. Recall the first time you heard that Pluto was demoted from the status of a planet, or the suddenness of a star falling from the sky in an arc of brilliant light.

Nash Grant, who had lived the majority of his life with the ability to read minds, was no stranger to unexpected circumstances. In fact, Nash had seen so many strange things in his life that he ceased to find them surprising at all. It was only for this reason that he was not stupefied when Shimmer materialized out of sparks in front of him as he ate a post-lunch snack and declared that she needed his help.

Shimmer, Nash had decided, was a proud woman who would rarely accept help, even when it was forced upon her. After the initial shock over being asked at all, Nash couldn't help but feel rather smug about the request.

This is how he found himself, dressed in his not-so-classic hood, crouched in an over grown shrub outside of a shabby little house. A roll of thunder echoed, lightning illuminating the yard for a second before fading and leaving Nash in what seemed to be a deeper darkness than before. Nash himself, surprisingly, was almost untouched by the down pour. The shrub he was hiding in was large enough to easily accommodate his crouched position, and the leaves were large enough to shield him from the worst of the rain. If he didn't think about the way his back ached or the pins and needles in his legs, Nash would have said he was rather comfortable.

Still, despite the water and the gnawing hunger he was feeling, Nash had promised Shimmer that he would keep a close eye on this girl—Callie, her name was. She was a small, mousy sixteen year old who went most places with a book clutched to her chest. Nash had been shadowing her every afternoon for nine days now, sometimes joined by Shimmer, but usually alone. June, he knew, was somewhat annoyed by his and Shimmer's prolonged absences, but Shimmer seemed to think that this was important, and he wasn't going to question her.

Most of the time when he was watching Callie, Shimmer was off talking to Tyler or that cop, or chasing down some lead or another about the Cult. She would come and check up on him every hour or so to see how the stake out was going, usually bearing snacks. When Callie finally shut off her bedroom light, Nash was dismissed from duty and could spend his night as he saw fit, which often included wandering the dark streets with Shimmer on 'Patrol' for a few hours before he had to return to the tower to sleep.

By the third day of observation, Shimmer had discovered the names and residences of most of the members of the so-called gang that had threatened Callie, as well as where they 'convened.' By the fourth day of observation, Nash had taught Shimmer the phrase 'hung out.'

During the long hours when Callie stayed in the house, thus causing Nash to sit in the previously mentioned shrub, Nash devoted most of his time to renaming anything he deemed uncool. These new names were drilled into the rest of the team by his next shift in the shrub. The long debated conference room became 'The Hub,' while the entirety of floor seven became 'The Burrow' and the common room 'The Niche.'

Renaming their team had been the hardest yet, as he couldn't find anything that would describe them without sounding like a comic-con booth or a flesh eating disease. 'The Salus Team,' still made him cringe every time he heard it, and Nash felt a bit anxious about finding a good name, especially after Cane took to calling the individual members 'Salusties.' Shimmer was surprisingly encouraging on the subject, even offering a few of her own ideas, which, while not perfect, were far better than Cane's suggestions.