Super Hot (a Superlovin' novella)

by Andrews, Vivi

  “So you agreed to help him right?”

  Tandy frowned. She knew she’d felt justified at the time, but for the life of her she couldn’t think of a single good reason why she had walked out on the pyrokinetic scientist. He’d insulted her pride? Was that all it took for her to turn her back on someone in need? Crap, he was right. Some superhero she would be.

  “I will.” She decided then and there. “I left because I had a date with Anthony, but it sounds like he won’t be taking up any more space on my calendar from now on. He’s engaged.”

  “He’s what?”

  “Engaged. Apparently her name is Amber and she completes him.”

  “That ass. I can’t believe you buried the lead. Do you want me to break his legs?”

  “No, damn it,” Tandy snapped. “If I wanted his legs broken, I am perfectly capable of breaking them myself, okay?”

  “Ooo-kay.”

  She cringed. “Sorry. I guess the whole non-super thing is getting to me today.”

  “Oh.” Darla Powers, aka DynaGirl—the flying, superstrength crime-fighter extraordinaire, who was also the daughter of a superhero couple and had actually come into her super abilities like everyone expected of second gen kids—swallowed audibly. “I guess you heard about Masha and Kieren.”

  “Who? What are you talking about?”

  “Masha Korlova and Kieren Pierce were kidnapped. I thought you must have heard. You said being not super was getting to you—”

  “But they both have powers.”

  “Yeah, but they’re the most vulnerable members of their families. Kieren talks to animals and Masha controls fog. Not exactly major threats to the villain population. I thought your brothers would be all over you about taking extra precautions, since the most likely reason they were taken was as leverage against their super relatives.”

  “With any luck my brothers haven’t heard about it yet and won’t put me under house arrest when they do.” This was not cheering her up. “Look, Darla, I should probably call Eisenmann back. Let him know he can have my blood, or whatever it is he needs.” Maybe for once the fact that she wasn’t super would be good for something. “G’night.”

  “Night, Tandy. You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

  “Yeah. Of course. Thanks, hon.”

  Not that being careful would do any good. She was the one Nightwing who couldn’t defend herself when push came to shove. That wasn’t going to change any time soon. Which was why she kept a super strength Taser in her briefcase.

  Chapter Five – Sorry, Charley

  “Welcome back, Ms. Nightwing,” the guard called cheerfully as her heels clacked across the Trident lobby for the second time in four hours. And here she’d been hoping she’d never have to enter this awful place again. So much for hope.

  Golden light from the setting sun streaked in the windows behind her and painted long shadows across the floor. A bit late for an appointment, but the guard didn’t comment as she strode past him toward the south bunker.

  She’d tried calling Eisenmann, but the damn doctor wasn’t accepting her calls. She could have waited until tomorrow and scheduled another appointment properly during normal business hours, but that didn’t seem very heroic. Apologies should not be put off. She may not be a hero, but at least she could be brave enough to face up to her mistakes quickly.

  The elevator descended into the depths and Tandy silently rehearsed her apology. He was still an ass, no two ways about that, but that didn’t mean she should turn her back on his request for her help. Even if he had called her the Nightwing Dud.

  Though perhaps she should keep you’re still a total ass out of her apology.

  The vault doors were sealed when she arrived, just like last time. And just like last time, when she pressed her hand to the biometric panel, the massive doors bleeped cheerfully and opened for her.

  The lab was abandoned. Again.

  She called out to Eisenmann and her sense of déjà vu only increased when no one responded. The lab’s air conditioners hummed away, keeping the room at near-arctic temperatures, but anyone seeing Tandy would never guess it from the way her face flushed at the idea of interrupting Eisenmann at his workout again. She strode quickly through the lab, but when she pushed open the door to the gym, it was empty as well and her shoulders slumped. Not that she was disappointed to miss the shirtless wonder flexing and pumping. Certainly not.

  She crossed back through the lab and tapped on the office door, but again there was no answer. Eisenmann surely would have locked up his inner sanctum, but when she tried the door, it opened easily. Into another empty room.

  She hadn’t considered that he might not be here. Every Trident researcher she’d ever met all but lived their work. The idea that Eisenmann would have called it a night before eight seemed ludicrous. But if the man wasn’t here, he wasn’t here.

  Tandy paused, her gaze catching on the melted lump of desk. Every time I have a bad dream… Pyros didn’t have long ranges. He would’ve had to be sleeping close to the desk to destroy it in a dream. Many of these bunkers were like apartments—wholly self contained. Did Eisenmann sleep down here? There was a gym. Why not a bedroom?

  She took another look around, now searching for living quarters. Now that she was looking, she immediately noticed the extra door leading off the lab. She’d assumed it was just a storage closet, but when she tried the door, it opened into a kitchen. “Eisenmann?”

  Beginning to feel like she was breaking and entering more than making amends, Tandy moved more hesitantly through the door at the far end of the kitchen. The living room—if it could be called that—was even more spartanly decorated than his office, just a battered old couch and a large fire-proof crate.

  She should leave. Tandy had a feeling Eisenmann wouldn’t be pleased to find her in his home, even if it was the least homey home she’d ever seen. She turned to go, but something caught her peripheral vision, a rustle of movement through the arched doorway at the opposite side of the room. “Eisenmann?”

  She took a step closer, and the shape sprawled on the stone floor in the next room moved again. The body on the floor. “Oh my God, Eric!”

  Tandy’s briefcase fell from limp fingers as she ran into the other room, sliding to her knees beside Eisenmann’s limp form. She hovered over him, afraid to touch him. “Eric, can you hear me? Are you hurt?” Of course he’s hurt. Why else would he be on the floor, Tandy?

  He moaned, head thrashing, and a wave of alcohol fumes hit her nostrils as an empty vodka bottle rolled out from under his arm. Not hurt. The asshole was drunk. She shoved away from him in disgust.

  He was shirtless—of course he was—and would probably catch a chill, but she was tempted to leave him there. It would serve him right if she left him here to sleep it off. Without super-strength she didn’t see how she’d be able to move his muscley bulk anyway, but she looked around the room nonetheless, searching for the bed. There wasn’t one.

  The room was more cement cell than boudoir. The closest thing to a mattress was a raised stone slab tucked in the corner farthest from the doorway.

  Eisenmann thrashed restlessly in his sleep, and Tandy absently shushed him, patting his shoulder.

  In the next second three things happened so quickly her brain couldn’t sort out the order of which happened first.

  Eisenmann’s hand shot out and closed like a vise over her wrist.

  A blast door crashed down, shutting off the only exit and sealing them inside.

  And the room burst into flames.

  Chapter Six – Molotov Cocktail, Human Edition

  Tandy screamed, but Eisenmann didn’t stir. The fire was everywhere, his grip steel on her wrist, keeping her from running to the door—not that it would have done any good. She didn’t have the first idea how to open it—and that was provided her body didn’t light up like a torch when she tried to run through the fire wall that seemed to be burning in the air itself.

  Her only hope was to rouse Eisenmann, to pray that
he exerted the same control he’d displayed earlier in his office and made the fire vanish before they both burned to a cinder. Or asphyxiated. There was no smoke yet, but the fire was eating the oxygen in the room, leaving less and less for breathing.

  She shook Eisenmann hard, but he just groaned. “Come on, you ass. Wake up. I am not dying today.”

  She slapped him, pinched him, pried his eyes open. Nothing. He’d drunken himself into oblivion and both of them to death. She punched him. “Open your eyes, you idiot,” she growled, panic pushing her to threats. “If you harm one hair on my head, my brothers are going to kick your pyro ass.” She straddled his chest, shaking him by the shoulders again. “Wake up!” She slammed both palms onto his chest. “Eric Eisenmann, you wake up and stop this. Stop it. Right. Now.”

  Something warm pulsed beneath her hands. Eisenmann’s eyes flew open as he gasped in a giant breath and the fire extinguished before she could blink.

  “Oh thank God.” She collapsed onto his chest, pressing her forehead against his collarbone as her entire body shook.

  “Tandy?”

  She shoved herself upright, drew back her arm, and let fly with every bit of force she could muster, slapping him right across the face.

  He squinted up at her, holding his cheek. “Ow.”

  “Do you know how close you came to killing us both? Do you?”

  He frowned. “What happened? It smells like an alcohol fire in here, but I don’t remember anything.”

  “Oh, an alcohol fire? Maybe because you were chugging hundred proof and you made the damn air catch on fire while you were so passed out drunk I barely managed to rouse you in time.”

  “What do you mean in time? I didn’t diffuse the fire.”

  “Yes, you did.” Realizing she was still straddling him, Tandy dismounted and tugged her skirt back into place. She’d lost a shoe and she focused all her attention on reclaiming it—and with it her dignity.

  “What are you doing here?”

  She glared at him. “I came to apologize.”

  He propped himself up on one elbow, rubbing absently at the handprint she’d left on his cheek. “Interesting technique.”

  She ignored the dig. “I shouldn’t have let my emotions cloud my decision-making earlier. Obviously, assisting you with your work is the right thing to do and I’ll do it.”

  “Seriously?” Hope lit his face and a fireball burst into the air inches from her face.

  “Lock it down, Eric!”

  He hissed, visibly struggling, and the basketball sized flame slowly shrank until it vanished with a barely audible poof. “Sorry. My control sucks even when I’m not still three-quarters drunk.”

  “You don’t look drunk.” She gave a delicate sniff. “Though you certainly smell it.”

  “I don’t feel drunk.” His brow furrowed. “I suppose it’s possible I could have burned off the alcohol in my blood. I wonder if there’s a breathalyzer in the lab…” He shoved to his feet and started toward the door. He passed his hand over the panel beside it and strode through, leaving her to follow.

  Tandy sighed and climbed to her feet. Scientists.

  She found him in his lab, testing his own blood alcohol. “What I don’t understand is how you have to exert such concentrated effort to extinguish one little fireball when you made a whole room of flames vanish just by opening your eyes.”

  Eisenmann turned away from his equipment, frowning at her. “I didn’t. I couldn’t. Even if I wanted to.”

  “Of course you did,” Tandy insisted. “Who else could have?”

  His gaze raked over her, from crown to toes. “Who else indeed?”

  Tandy released a soft, scoffing breath. “You’re insane. I’m the Nightwing Dud, remember?”

  “You aren’t burned. Not even singed. There isn’t a speck of soot on you. How did you do that? Anything close to a pryo is kindling during a fire, but you…”

  “You must have known I was there. Subconsciously or something. You instinctively protected me.”

  “Maybe. But I don’t think so. I think it was you.”

  Part of her truly hated him for saying that. For taunting the girl who never had a power to her name. “Don’t be cruel.”

  “I don’t remember suppressing the fire. It wasn’t conscious.”

  “It stopped as soon as you opened your eyes. It was you. Just like in your office earlier, when you tried to scare me into helping you.”

  “I wasn’t trying to scare you,” Eric protested. “I lost control. It’s triggered by my emotions. When I’m upset, the fire just comes. And this afternoon, when it vanished like that, I don’t think that was me either. I’ve never been able to shut it off like that.” He fell into contemplation, his voice drifting as he remembered. “You shoved me and the fire vanished. You did it.”

  Tandy shook her head, tears gathering in her eyes. “I’m not listening to this.” She pushed past him, stalking toward the exit.

  “You said you’d help.”

  She stopped, drawn up short by the reminder of the right thing to do, but she didn’t turn to face him. Not yet. “I’ll give you my blood. I’ll help you if I can, but you have to stop this.” She made her gaze steel before she turned around, so he would see she would not be bent. “I don’t have a super power. Not even a magical fire-extinguishing one. Don’t say that again. Or I’ll walk out and you can find another genetic anomaly to study.”

  She could see how badly he wanted to argue, but her steely gaze must have done the trick because he finally raised his hands in surrender. “Deal.”

  Tandy shrugged out of her suit jacket and began rolling up the sleeve of her blouse. “I assume any old vein will do?”

  That got him moving. Within five minutes he had her perched on a stool with a needle in her arm and a vial slowing filling with her blood.

  “So this is the magic elixir, huh?” She studied the vials dubiously. Nothing about her had ever been important before, certainly not her blood. The idea made her uncomfortable, so she filled the silence with nonsense.

  “That’s what we’re hoping.”

  “We, huh? Who else is on your research team?”

  He looked up from her arm, blinking. “Did I say we? I’m collaborating with a few other scientists online, but this project is my baby. No one else has access to the lab. Which reminds me, how have you been getting in here?”

  “The door. How was I supposed to get in?”

  “You weren’t. This is a secure facility. The Board of Trident themselves should have to get my permission before they can access this area.”

  “You mean you didn’t—I just assumed you had programmed my biometrics into the door when you knew I was coming for an appointment.”

  “I don’t have your biometrics on file. I know you said you’ve done work with Trident before, but you’re not anywhere in our records.”

  “My biometrics have to be on file. How else would the door open for me?” The penny dropped. The failsafe. Of course. “It’s a Nightwing panel.”

  “The best locks are all Nightwing systems. Are you bragging?”

  “My parents are cautious. They made it a policy years ago that no Nightwing security system would go out that could be used to imprison any member of our family. There’s a failsafe. An override keyed to us, to keep us from ever being locked up by our own technology. I didn’t even realize I was activating it when I scanned myself in here. I thought my access was by your invitation. So I guess I should apologize for breaking and entering.”

  “Twice.”

  She almost smiled. “It wasn’t intentional.”

  “The road to Area Nine is paved with good intentions.”

  “I hardly think me letting myself into your lab is a crime worthy of Area Nine.”

  He just smiled.

  It was funny. She sort of liked him like this. Chatting. Easy banter flowing back and forth. The muscles in his bare chest flexing and pulling deliciously as he changed out the first vial for the second.


  “Do you have some sort of aversion to clothes?” she asked dryly. “You can’t seem to keep your shirt on in my presence.”

  He grinned—and she suddenly realized what she liked so much about him. His smile. He had a lovely one, now that he’d started using it again. “Don’t worry. I know you have a boyfriend.”

  “I don’t actually,” she said, in a repeat outbreak of Relationship Tourette’s. “Not anymore.”

  He arched a brow. “That was fast.”

  “Not as fast as it should have been. It’s been over for weeks. I was just a little slow on the uptake.”

  He just nodded, labeling a new vial. Did he have a girlfriend? If so, she certainly didn’t live with him. The bunker was utterly devoid of anything resembling a woman’s touch. Not exactly designed for entertaining either. How long had he been down here? How long since he’d seen anyone, let alone someone he cared about?

  “Are you totally alone down here?”

  Eisenmann carefully marked a new label. “I do my best work in private.”

  “That doesn’t mean you have to condemn yourself to solitary confinement. When was the last time you got out? Darla says you won’t let them come visit you.”

  His gaze flicked up then to meet hers, something dark shadowing its amber depth. “Darla Powers may be able to fly, but she still burns just the same as anyone else. It’s too dangerous for me to have social calls. I shouldn’t even have you here. If I’d been thinking, I would have had you meet someone else and let them draw your blood and deliver it to me. But that’s half the problem. I can’t think anymore.”

  “I think you have more control than you give yourself credit for.”

  “And I think you have more power than you give yourself credit for. But I’m not allowed to say that, am I?”

  She ignored him. “Maybe if you saw some friends now and then, you wouldn’t be so on edge—”