Rogue Superheroes

by Matt Cowper

  He glanced at Metal Gal, who smiled back and pressed his hand.

  “I believe Blaze is saying you should embrace your powers,” Nightstriker said, “and we should do the same. Up until this point, we've been trying, basically, to save you from your powers. But you don't need saving. You are yourself: you can't have Anna without Nimbus, and vice versa.”

  “OK...but...I still don't know what to do!” Nimbus said.

  “Stop trying to get rid of your smoke-form, and instead just...change,” Blaze said. “It's two sides of the same coin, Anna. Just flip that coin. Like this.”

  He held out his arm and snapped his fingers. Fire radiated off the arm, and soon his appendage was so hot and bright that his teammates had to step away and shield their eyes from it.

  Then he snapped his fingers again. The fire disappeared, and the room temperature returned to its mild levels. His arm was once again a normal-looking arm.

  “See?” Sam said.

  “OK, I'll try to flip the damn coin, or snap my fingers, or whatever,” she muttered. “Ridiculous crap....”

  The smoke shifted around, until it formed a vague human outline. Nimbus had done this many times before, so no one gasped in surprise.

  But then the outline began to fill in: white skin, brown eyes, well-defined hands.

  “Anna, you're doing it!” Metal Gal shouted.

  “Am I?” Nimbus said. “I really am?! Yeah...I do feel...more solid...and I can feel...I can feel the floor! It's cool, and hard, and...and....”

  The outline continued to fill in, and the smoke continued to disappear, until a fully-formed figure of a young woman stood before them.

  She was thin and bright-eyed, with curly brown hair and deep dimples, and there was an unmistakable geekiness about her.

  “I...I did it!” Anna hollered, raising her arms high and taking an awkward leap.

  Her arm-raising and leaping caused certain parts of her body to jiggle, as she was still very much naked.

  “Computer, generate some clothing for Nimbus,” Nightstriker said.

  “Confirmed,” an emotionless voice replied.

  A simple blue frock appeared around Nimbus, and sandals wrapped around her feet. She jerked around, startled, then took a deep breath and looked at them sheepishly.

  “Yeah, uh...forgot I didn't have clothes on,” she muttered.

  “You don't hear me complaining,” Buckshot said.

  “Me neither,” Slab said.

  “Guys!” Nimbus shouted, giving them the fabled female death stare.

  “Settle down, you two,” Nightstriker said. He walked over to Anna and studied her, but in a dispassionate analytical way, not in a sexual way. “You appear solid. Can I see your hand?”

  She held out her right hand, and Nightstriker grasped it gently.

  “You can feel that?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she replied, grinning so widely Blaze thought her lips would reach her ears. “It feels...like it once did. I'm solid, I can touch stuff, feel stuff....”

  She turned her radiant grin on Sam. “And it's thanks to you!”

  Before he could prepare himself, he was wrapped up in a hug, and Anna's lips were stuck to his cheek.

  She was warm, soft, her breath smelling like a campfire. Like Siobhan, but real....

  Why was he comparing the two women?

  After patting Anna a few times, he pulled away, though she made it clear she'd stand there hugging him for the remainder of the day.

  “Thank you thank you thank you,” she breathed.

  “No problem,” Sam said. “That's what friends are for, right?”

  “Damned impressive, Sam,” Buckshot said. “As for Anna...well, if I was her, I'd be getting drunk tonight!”

  “I never was much of a drinker,” Anna said, “but you're right: we need to have a celebration! What do you say, boss? Can we knock off early and hit the bars or clubs?”

  Nightstriker smiled one of his rare fatherly smiles. “Yes, I think we can put our work on hold for one evening.”

  “Alright!” Slab said, pounding his rock-fists together. “You know, Anna, there's this new club in Bootheel that caters to superhumans called the Golden Age. They got reinforced floors so big lugs like me can dance, and enough liquor on hand that even I can get drunk.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Anna said, playfully swatting Slab's forearm. “Let me get some real clothes, and I'll be ready to party tonight!”

  “You can have some of mine,” Metal Gal said. “I can generate my own clothes, of course, but I still keep some on hand. We do look the same size. Well, the same size when I'm, you know...in my normal form.”

  “Thanks, Gal!” Anna gushed. “And thank you all – especially Sam – for helping me, even though I know I was stubborn and cranky. It's just...I thought I was stuck in that form....”

  Her grin faded, and tears began to flow. As she sobbed, the Elites gathered closer, comforting her, telling jokes to lighten the mood, affirming that they were there for her, no matter what.

  Blaze and Nightstriker stayed a few feet from the group, however.

  Blaze kept his distance because he hadn't yet gotten his whirlwind of emotions under control. He'd asked Siobhan to marry him...then helped Nimbus turn back human...then gotten an emotional hug and kiss from her...and the marriage announcement had yet to be made.

  But why was Nightstriker holding back? He was not one to let emotions overwhelm him.

  Blaze glanced at their leader carefully, and he was almost certain Nightstriker was also glancing surreptitiously at him.

  But why? Had he done something wrong? Was Nightstriker angry because Blaze had found a solution to Nimbus's problem when he could not? Did Nightstriker already know about the engagement – somehow – and didn't approve?

  Blaze racked his brain, but he only became more and more confused – while the cloud around Nightstriker only became blacker.

  The End...for Now

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