"I don't think any of our clothes fit you," Quake says finally, watching Thunderstorm hastily pulled up the oversized collar from exposing her bare chest. "Are your clothes still at your house? We can go and steal them back."
Thunderstorm's face was as red as a tomato, sitting on Quake's bed as she covered her face with her hand. Despite the previous events, this was beyond embarrassing. It was no surprise that the clothes that belonged to Ice or Quake didn't suit her—they were much taller and mature than she is.
"I..." Thunderstorm glanced at her old clothes, burnt and greasy. "I can just stay in my old ones."
Quake didn't hear her. "Even if we can sneak in your place, they're not ideal for your condition either... I've seen your clothing choice, and none of them are suitable for you." She turned to Thunderstorm. "Has no one told you how to wear a sports bra?"
"A what?" Thunderstorm wisped. "I—don't know anything about a girl. My mentor never really taught me."
The geokinetic's eyes fell on her for a moment, before sitting next to her and pulling her into another gentle embrace.
"I'm sorry for what you had to go through," she said, pulling away. "But for now, wear this." Quake dug into the deeper parts of the closet that she and Ice shared, and pulled out a blue and white hoodie, and a pair of shorts that obviously was kept in there for some time. "I don't think Ice would mind."
Thunderstorm held the clothes in her hand, the fabric soft, but there was more to it. She recognized the aura that it radiated, sown into the cloth. As she ran her fingers through the hood, the fabric flickered to a black and red, the pattern shifting towards to represent element instead.
Following her confusion, Quake shrugged as she closed the closet.
"That happens," Quake explained blandly, crossing her arms. "We stopped wearing them because they gave us away. We use it to differentiate whether one of us is an imposter."
That... didn't explain what was going on. Thunderstorm's mind was still in a blur, and she was still in a foggy state. She nodded for a response, but blushed again as she remembered that Quake was still in the room.
"I need to... uh—" she stuttered, struggling to get the words out. Did Quake not feel uneasy when other people were changing?
Quake raised up her hands, understanding of her discomfort. She left the room, the door clicking into place as she closed it. Once she was gone, Thunderstorm breathed a sigh of relief, and fall backwards onto the bed, the wooden frame creaking. She clutched the hoodie in her hands, the aura that it radiated now resembling hers.
It is hers, but it felt so distant, so raw. The power that it represented was untamed, uncontainable. Electricity wasn't meant to be bottled up. Like fire and nature and every other element, it was meant to be used, meant to roam free.
The room was decent sized, though larger than hers located in the shared apartment with Blaze and Thorn. There were two beds; each at either side of the room, with a dresser each. The one she was lying on was neatly folded, the other wrinkly and untidied, as if someone had just woken up from a twelve-hour nap.
For people meant to be villains, they sure didn't act like the title. They were so normal, perhaps even more than her.
Someone knocked at the door, the dull thuds resonating in the room. It was Ice.
"Storm? You done yet?" she called. "I left my bow in there and I need it to shoot Cyclone in the face!"
"Huh?" Thunderstorm demanded. She wasn't questioning what Cyclone did to deserve that fate, but she was confused why they would be so polite. This was Ice's room, after all. Thunderstorm wasn't exactly on their side. She was the enemy, an intruder.
"That bastard dropped all the plates and they're broken." Ice leaned on the wall, waiting for Thunderstorm's indication of completion. "You okay in there?"
"I'm fine," Thunderstorm stammered, struggling to change into the new hoodie and shorts. They were still loose, but an improvement. The hoodie was warm, but breathable and mobile. She could see what Quake meant when she said that it was used for battle.
Thunderstorm opened the door, and Ice swept in her room. The apartment they shared had two floors; the second floor for the rooms, and the ground floor had the small medical room, the living room, a miniature balcony for laundry, the kitchen and the dining room combined. It wasn't large by four-people standards, but it was cozy.
Before Thunderstorm even made her way down, she heard Quake's voice of exasperation.
"I leave for three minutes—" Quake started, then followed by a series of complaints and exaggerated suicidal threats.
"Sorry! I'll make it up to you later. I'm almost late for work!" Cyclone slammed the door shut, and running footsteps boomed outside, his motivation either from the exhausted geokinetic, or his working application at stake.
Hearing all of their busy lives, Thunderstorm felt more of an outsider than she already was. Her daily life consisted of meeting with the press, going to high-class dinner parties and patrolling just for a reality TV show. Compared to them, she was pathetically lazy and spoilt.
She stood still on the second step of the stairs downwards, her hand gripping the railings as her fingers trembled with anxiety. Should she go down? Wouldn't she be adding to Quake's problems? They looked like they had enough on their plate already.
Before she could decide, Ice came out of her room, changed to a green wool sweater and brown jeans, her hair tied into a ponytail. "You okay? There's no need to feel awkward. You're welcome here for a reason."
Thunderstorm jerked around, surprised by the casual outfit that they all wore. They weren't what she expected them to be at all.
"Trust me," Ice continued, putting a hand on Thunderstorm's shoulder, "you're the best thing that happened to us so far."
The best thing...? Was it because that they have a now-fugitive in their custody? The authorities didn't know who they actually were, but Thunderstorm on the other hand, was full-blown on wanted posters and newspapers. They could turn her in and be done with a threat.
"Anyway, bye for now. I'm going to meet up with a publisher," Ice stated, walking down the stairs. As she passed by the white leather couches, she picked up a brown jacket and swept it on her shoulders, then left the house with no time wasted.
The door closed with a similar fashion to Cyclone, with the same rushing air that they both shared.
Thunderstorm swallowed, trying to unclasp her hand from the fence, and walk down, her entire body tense, every movement stiff and unnatural. On the left was the dining room, where there was a rectangle cloudy glass table and four chairs surrounding it. In front of two chairs were plates of fried rice, seemingly hastily made but with skill.
Quake was on one knee, using her powers to levitate the glass shards into a plastic bag. This fact intrigued Thunderstorm: Quake controlled earth, not glass. So how could she accomplish such a feat?
When Thunderstorm reached the bottom of the stairs, Quake stood up and tied the bag together, a knot forming at the end. She tossed the plastic bag into the larger trash can, and turned around, noticing Thunderstorm's awkward presence.
"How does it feel?" Quake asked, sitting down on one of the chairs. "I know how I felt when I tried that thing on the first time, but I don't know about you."
Thunderstorm looked down, taking her own elbow and biting her lip. "It's... unnatural, I—I guess. Doesn't feel like me."
Quake frowned, as she didn't expect the negative answer. "Oh," she says finally after a moment's silence. "I see." She gestured for Thunderstorm to sit down. After she sat, Quake shared her own experience with her: "When I wore that hoodie, I felt like I was powerful, that I can do anything in the world, and that I belonged with my friends."
Hearing this, Thunderstorm's head was bowed so low she might as well bury her head in the ground like a scared ostrich. She was different, defective, and she knew it. She couldn't fit in with the world, with Blaze and Thorn, and not even here, with the villains.
"But I guess we need to see about your power first." Quake picked up her spoon and began eating her belated lunch. "Whatever you're feeling, it has a reason. You just need to find out what it is. Just remember we're always here to help."
For some reason, her words hit Thunderstorm straight in the heart. It was like a spear, impaling the softest and the most hidden spot inside of her. Without her knowing, tears sprung to her eyes again, and she couldn't control herself as her body trembled with unrecognized grief, her hands covering her eyes in a desperation to halt.
Quake moved to comfort her, but Thunderstorm shook her head before she got out of her seat.
"Thank you," she croaked, smiling bitterly as tears streamed down her face, dripping down to her thighs.