Or a few seconds…that’s my mom for you.
She pulls away and looks around her, jaw dropped and eyes wide. I have to admit, it’s pretty bad. A lot of the damage is superficial, though. Broken glass and spilled chemicals. All things that can be easily replaced.
I rub at my wrists. Draven clearly overestimated SHPD’s response. Maybe they assumed I was a hero who would be able to take on the intruders. Even after the computer response system knew there were villains in the lab, it took a solid twenty-five minutes before a human showed up. That’s twenty-five minutes I spent tied to a lab table with sirens blaring and emergency lights flashing. It would test anyone’s endurance.
By minute ten I was regretting my decision to help Draven when Nitro set him on fire.
By fifteen I was wishing Nitro’s blast had hit Draven harder.
By twenty I regretted not beaning him with the extinguisher too.
Now…now I just hope I never see any of them again.
“What happened here?” Mom asks.
“Nitro happened,” I answer.
“Nitro?” she echoes. “We’re lucky there’s anything left. He has a reputation for being ruthless.”
Normally I’d agree with her. But while the guy I met was a total jerk, he wasn’t ruthless. He wasn’t…evil.
“Did he touch any of the research?” she asks.
I shrug. “No, he just blew the vault.”
“Thank God you didn’t get hurt!” She pauses but is awfully calm, considering. Then again, if any of her important research had been ruined—if my transcriptions weren’t automatically backed up to the server—she’d be in a way bigger panic.
She walks through the mess, studies the destruction. Then turns to me, frowning. “Was he alone?”
This is the part where I have to decide how much to say. Do I tell her about the villain who protected me? Do I tell her that he tried to wipe my mind? Draven’s not on the superhero radar yet or I would have heard of him. If I tell Mom, she’ll tell the League, and he’ll be on the most-wanted list by morning. Memory wipe is a big deal on both sides of the superpower fence.
But in the end, I decide I owe them no loyalty. Just because these three villains didn’t hurt or kill me doesn’t mean I need to protect them, protect him. God only knows how many people they’ve hurt in the past, or will hurt in the future if the heroes don’t catch them.
“No, there were three of them,” I say.
Mom gasps again. “They could have killed you.”
Way to have faith, Mom.
“Yeah, well, it’s not like their powers actually work on me. There wasn’t much they could do.”
I might be powerless, but I do have one secret weapon. Mom does anyway.
After the way my dad died—and what happened to me—my mom dedicated her research to developing a serum that makes whoever takes it immune to superpowers. Impervious. She perfected the serum when I was eight and has been giving it to me once a week ever since. I’m her long-term test subject. Her guinea pig.
So far it seems to be working. I haven’t grown a second head or anything, and superpowers don’t affect me anymore. But she isn’t ready to share the serum with the heroes yet. They might be the good guys, but they’re very fond of their abilities. And since her serum makes me immune to all superpowers—hero or villain—she figures they aren’t going to take the news very well. At least not until she can refine the formula to only work against villain powers.
Until then, this research is our little secret. One that could get her in major trouble, since it’s a totally unsanctioned experiment.
And it’s a secret that makes Mom feel a little better since I’m slightly less likely to get maimed or killed because I can’t defend myself.
“Ssssh.” My mom glances around to make sure no one is listening. “You know you’re not supposed to talk about that. Besides, just because Nitro’s blast couldn’t hurt you doesn’t mean he couldn’t slit your throat or break your neck.”
The image makes me shudder. “Nice, Mom. Thanks for the visual.”
“I’m just saying.” She lowers her voice. “You act like that serum makes you invincible, but it doesn’t. You could have died in the explosion or from fire or from falling debris. He could have killed you in a million different ways that didn’t actually involve his powers.”
It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes. I know this is her way of saying she cares about me, but all she’s doing is pointing out how weak she thinks I am.
It’s an old fight, so I don’t bother trying to explain that I’m powerless, not helpless. Or stupid. She can’t seem to comprehend that I might actually be able to defend myself. Which is totally hypocritical, considering that if you take away that big brain of hers, she’s just as vulnerable as I am.
It’s a fight I can’t win though, so I change the subject. “One of them tried to wipe my mind to make me forget I saw them.”
Mom’s eyes widen. “You didn’t tell him?”