“Mark’s gonna be pissed that he missed his favorite bad guy,” I laugh as Jun starts to pack up the self-proclaimed God of Wine for transport to the police station. We all know Mark hates Zinfandel like most kids hate doing the dishes. Come to think of it, that’s prolly why he didn’t come along.
Jun winks back at me, squinting against the reflection of the setting sun on the shiny truck chassis. “You’ll make sure to tell ‘im, then,” she says. She starts up the truck, and I wave as the rest of the Guardians head out for patrol, or school projects, or whatever good upstanding superheroes do on our time off.
“Don’t forget to lock up.” Carlos (Robotman) throws me the keys as he starts to pull the warehouse door shut.
“Actually, Jun, hold on.” I duck under the door out into the sunlight and raise my phone with a grin. “Let’s get Mark to bring him in.”
Jun’s normally all about messing with Mark, but now she almost slams the truck door on my face in her hurry to get going. Her smile’s strained. “Nah, we need to lay off him, you know?” She says. “I got this.”
“No, really, it’ll be funny! I’m already dialing!” I lean in through the truck’s open window, reaching over Jun to the scrawny Italian dude tied up in the cab’s back seat. “Hey Zinfandel, say hi to Mark!”
Two little hands plant solidly on my chest. “Skye,” Jun snarls through clenched teeth. “I. Got. This.”
Next second I’m landing hard on my ass, my phone’s flying, and there’s dust and exhaust tickling up my nose and itching my eyes as the truck roars off. Carl grips my wrist and hauls me to my feet.
“Was I that annoying?” I ask up to him. My butt stings.
“You were,” he says. But he’s staring after his disappearing truck with his lips pursed. “Hey BB?” he asks into his watch. “You too busy to go with Jun and me to the police station?”
“I’m sorry, Carl, you know I would meet you there, but I have a date. Is it urgent?”
My eyebrows raise, and I grin, but Carl holds up his hand to shut me down before I can tease her with stories about imaginary vampire boyfriends.
“Not urgent,” he says. “Be safe.” He hangs up, and lays a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t forget to lock up,” he repeats–and then he rockets off after Jun.
He’s good people like that. He won’t let anybody stay mad. I duck back into the warehouse and pull together the two huge metal folding doors, and then leap up to the ceiling to pull down the big rumbling-grumbling garage door behind them. Double closed in, and no one’s around.
Good, because I gotta make some private Internet doings. There’s another supervillain hunting our hideout, and I’m more than willing to help him out, but I wanna make sure he’s not gonna just bomb us or something. I started this whole bring-the-baddies-to-us initiative as a joke, (because how funny would it be to think you’re gonna ambush someone and then they’re waiting for you?) but after Fermi the Bug-Girl almost kicked our butts I’m thinking twice. Zinfandel was easy, but if someone like Zeus finds us we’re screwed. I should maybe have NOT done this.
Scratch that, I should definitely not have done this. But I’ve heard rumors about people with superpowers going missing when they’re alone. Isn’t it better if whoever the threat is, we face him–or her–together?
This was a mistake, a mistake, a big mistake.
But for some reason I’m still typing.