I found Atticus a distance away from the other prison cells in a large room all his own. Blindfolded, chained to a chair, and being assaulted by lights from every angle so as to completely nullify any and all shadows he might draw upon to escape his binds, Atticus's head lolled listlessly to the side. They covered as much of his skin with cloth as was practical to prevent him mimicking their powers via accidental contact, leaving only his neck and the area below the blindfold exposed. Even the air felt dry, void of moisture to manifest ice.
"I'm here," I said, entwining my hands around the bars just to get close. As had been true in Skye's cell, and on top of his physical restraints, there was a stone cage built into the room, showing they took his potential flight risk far more seriously than they had mine. "I'm here to get you out."
"No," he rasped, the word coming out a little too long and a little too slurred, like he was drunk - or heavily medicated. "Leave. Quick. You... won't be able to unlock the door."
"Shows what he knows." Skye caught up, bumping me out of the way and swiping an acid-bloodied finger over the keyhole. It disintegrated from the inside out.
As soon as I was able, I forced my way through and ripped the fabric from his eyes. Dazed, reinforcing my theory that they were using a drug some sort to keep him docile. Weak. At their mercy.
They wouldn't have been able to handle him otherwise, not the man who once lost control and destroyed an entire section of the prison singlehandedly.
"I have you," I whispered, cupping his face just long enough to force his wavering focus onto me. Gods, this close I could make out every bit of discolored flesh, slow to heal after over a week without the benefit of mimicking my power. Already, even from such a brief touch, I could make out the intricacies of the healing process happening in rapid fashion.
"I trust you've got this covered," Skye said from the doorway, edging her way out while I worked to free Atticus the rest of his way from his restraints. "Now we're even."
"Fine," I snapped, distracted. I wouldn't be missing her delightful company anyway. "Go."
But she didn't leave, and even rushed briskly over, huffing, "Goodness, you are absolutely hopeless, aren't you?"
Another swipe of her thumb over a sharpened canine and a flash of red dripping over the thick metal chains had them melting. The smell was the worst part. Indescribable, like pennies and sulfur.
"There," she said, twirling her way back into the corridor. "Now you owe me. I expect you'll be breaking me out again the next time I get caught."
Before I could respond with a strongly worded reply to the negative, she turned a corner out of sight. With any luck, for her sake more than mine, we'd never be forced to cross paths again.
Helping Atticus to his feet, I asked, "Can you walk? Can you guide us to the nearest exit?"
He managed to stand only by leaning heavily on me to support his weight. "I can walk."
"Sure you can," I grunted.
Evidently rejuvenated by my obvious doubt, he successfully pulled away without toppling over. The glaze over his eyes gradually receded the longer my fingers stayed entwined with his, and I wondered if that was a result of whatever they dosed him with naturally running its course or if that too got fought off by my power.
Atticus grasped my hand tighter and we ran. Despite my initial concerns, he gained speed and confidence in every subsequent second that passed. Alarms started blaring a wailing call, which I presumed meant the discord I sewed had extended past today's prison guards to alert Guild above. Things were rapidly spiraling out of my control. All injuries - all death - could be traced like branches on a tree back to me and my choice to leave my cell, to release Skye, who, in turn, released everyone else.
The Guild would regret not taking my confinement seriously. They would regret ever taking me into their prison.
Atticus led us through a labyrinth of crossroads, forking paths, and dead ends. The scale of the place was astonishing. Although the Guildhall itself was massive, I never could have imagined how widespread they extended beneath the ground, the roots of a great tree snaking through the city.
We did our best to avoid other escapees, not wanting to be on the receiving end of any pandemonium they wreaked, though occasionally it couldn't be helped. I trusted Atticus knew where he was taking me by his confident stride and the fact that our path ever so slowly ascended, until, abruptly he stopped in his tracks and whirled around to face me. We rapidly backtracked into the nearest unlocked room, where he pressed me into the adjoining wall. Two fingers to his lips telling me to stay silent nearly, but not quite, hid a ghost of playfulness curling the edges of his full mouth.
He needn't have bothered with the memo, though, because the odds of anyone hearing us beneath the wailing sirens were infinitesimal. I wondered if he did it to be cute, knowing that the last time he bid me to stay quiet while he broke into the Guildhall I had been fighting a losing battle against my own blood lust. At the time, I'd been willing to expose us both for the privilege of telling him he had no right to tell me what to do.
Pushing up onto my tiptoes, I brought my lips up to his ears and said above the headache-inducing whine, "You know, Nicole and I always thought Leigh would be the one of us to end up in a prison."
His light laughter reverberated through his chest into mine. "Don't count her out yet. If she's dedicated, maybe we'll be able to gift my mother a set of matching mugshots for her birthday."
Shaking my head from the ridiculousness of that proposition, I dropped back down on the balls of my feet and, ducking under his arm caging me between him and the wall, stole a glance into the corridor. "I think whoever was coming has passed us by now."
"I imagine so."
He sounded strange, so I half-turned back to face him, peering over my shoulder. I expected to find him struggling from a concealed wound that my healing hadn't yet fixed. I was bracing myself to have to drag him the rest of the way out of the Underground.
What I wasn't prepared for was the look in his eyes when he took my chin and angled it up to meet him. I forgot how to breathe. I forgot where we were and the fact that we had far more pressing things to do at the moment. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. The sirens seemed to drown out my thoughts.
It was easier to blame it on the sirens.
But he only brought his forehead to mine, eyelids lowered, and murmured, "I wish you weren't a part of this. I don't know where this path ends, but it can't end well, now that both of our true names are known - or, in your case, suspected - of supervillain activity. I wish you could have had a normal life, even if I wasn't in it."
I let out the breath that I'd been holding and turned the rest of the way to face him. "I was destined to end up on a supervillain watchlist eventually, so long as I got it into my head to look at my grandfather's disappearance. I've been told I can be quite vengeful. Well..." I frowned, "I'm not sure I could do that much damage by myself, but I'd certainly try. It's the malice that counts, right? With my luck, I'd send a building down on a Super on accident, because my curse would make another attempt to squash me."
Atticus chuckled and, oh how I loved the sound of his laughter, even as weak as that. "You don't give yourself enough credit. You've managed to best me more times than any Super ever has. I never stood a chance and neither would they. You could ruin me and I would thank you for it."
"I would accept that thanks," I said faux-haughtily, fast-learning that meaningless flattery was definitely my love language. "Maybe we'd even team up. Ruin some lives together. Might be a fun weekend."
"I don't think it could ever be just a single weekend."
Then his arms tightened around me, and I knew our stolen moment had passed. Reality awaited. It would be a shame to get him free of his cell, only to get caught.
One of us needed to let go first, and neither of us had the will.
"Atticus-" I started.
A tremor erupted through the facility, rock and stone and earth churning. Grinding. I tried to catch my balance on the wall, and found myself stumbling out of Atticus's immediate vicinity.
"Isn't this Tectonic?" I called, fighting just to stay on my feet. "The one who managed to wreck the Guild last time? Shouldn't they also be in a cell somewhere, or at least trying to escape? Why would they risk a collapse? How can they even use their powers this effectively down here? They shouldn't be able to do that!"
I pointed to the crack forming in the floor, only to find Atticus staring at a much larger one zigzagging through the stone overhead.
"They've done it once before," he muttered, almost to himself. Snapping back to focus, he made a swipe for my hand. "Come here!"
For once, I made no argument. I took two swaying steps, my knees threatening to buckle beneath me, before something large and sharp stabbed into my shoulder, sending me sprawling. Dust stung my eyes and my every inhale coated my mouth with a thick layer of grit. Whole bricks of stone rained down around us, breaking over the ground, over my bones. The earth gave another great roll and the ceiling finally succumbed to the undeniable pull of gravity, caving in in chunks larger than my whole body. The sirens, as constant and sure as my own heartbeat, cut out, making the silence all the more disconcerting in its absence.
Then it stopped. All of it, literally. Stone hung suspended in mid air. Falling specks of dirt and dust froze in place, like a dense fog, and through it I spotted Atticus with his arms spread wide, trembling from the exertion of carrying the whole weight of the above world. I didn't think it was possible. The stones should have rejected his telekinetic manipulation, but, then again, they also should have rejected Tectonic's numerous attempts at destruction, too.
I asked myself again if it was me that was responsible. Three times, that I knew of, had this supposedly impervious stone failed, and I had been witness to each event.
"Come... here..." Atticus forced out, strained.
I hastened to obey, limping slightly due to debris that seemed to have snapped a bone in my lower left leg. It would heal soon enough on its own, so I didn't spare the crippling pain another thought.
"Don't let go," he instructed. Sweat beaded at his temple. When I crossed my arms over his shoulders, I felt his every taut muscle at war with thousands of pounds of earth threatening to bury us. He exhaled a sigh of relief into my hair and released some of his control, allowing the area where I had been earlier to collapse, considerably reducing his load. "It's okay," he gasped softly. "I have you. It's okay. It's okay."
I wasn't sure which of us he was reassuring.
Carefully, Atticus pressed outward with his power, forcing the stubborn ground and rocks atop us to move, all the while levitating us higher. Dark earth flowed around the bubble encompassing our bodies to fill in the empty space growing beneath our feet.
Would we run out of air? That was a problem I preferred not to ponder, since I couldn't do anything to change it. I couldn't heal oxygen into our lungs. Even so, I couldn't think of a single person I would have rather been stuck in that miserable situation with, pressed so tightly together we practically served as an extension of each other. The feel of his breath on my ear, the sound of our combined thudding hearts creating a chorus all their own.
Just as my concerns mounted into something I no longer could ignore, a thin tendril of light cut through the endless dark.
"There!" I cried, choking a little through debris clouding my throat, thicker than ash. "We're almost out."
"And here I thought we were just getting comfortable." Despite his apparent irreverence, his tired eyes never strayed from that mesmerizing glimmer of hope. They narrowed, and he gave one final push with everything he had, every once of power exploding out of him in a controlled strike.
The ground exploded upward as though by a landmine. Atticus barely left any strength in reserve to move, so I crawled out first and doubled back to drag him out after me. I managed, not because I was strong, but because I had to. There was no universe where I left him to figure it out for himself in his weakened state when half the reason he got into that situation was because he protected me from the collapse.
I dragged him by the arms over the lip of the rapidly disintegrating hole and had exactly one moment to gulp down the comparatively fresh air, because, in the next, a razor sharp gust of power - wind? - nearly knocked me on my back. The blow hit its target, Atticus, head-on, however. Unable to defend himself, it shot him across the destroyed, sunken street, out of site. A spray of red dotted my arm, over the dusting of gray and brown earth coating my skin.
Tempest aimed to kill.