"Maybe we can duct tape it?"
But even as Voyd offered the words with a hesitantly optimistic smile, she knew they held no weight. Screech's wing was too badly injured. The super sat on a couch in the SJP's common room, leaned forward so that the others could examine his damaged appendage. The wing was all but snapped in half, dangling at an odd angle.
"I find myself incapable of even moving it," Screech informed his colleagues tiredly. "I believe it will have to be removed. Apologies, Voyd, but your suggestion of duct tape will not be adequate."
"Maybe if we go around it a bunch of times?" she offered, trying not to feel useless.
"Not even if we go around it a bunch of times, no." This was the closest to sarcasm that she'd ever heard Screech get. "But thank you. Your suggestions are appreciated."
"What happened to you, anyway?" the nearby Reflux asked. "How did they get ya?"
"I was unprepared for the force of the young lady's attack. Her power shoved me against the wall, and I impacted at the wrong angle."
"Did it hurt?" asked Voyd with trepidation, not sure if she'd like the answer.
Screech shook his head. "The wings are not designed to feel pain. If they were, I would no doubt be doubled over in agony."
"Can we do anything?" This came from Brick, who looked concerned for her friend.
"No, but I thank you for your offer. An engineer—preferably, the same one who designed the wings—is the only person who can repair this damage." Screech's eyes were cast to the floor and he sighed quietly.
Realizing there was something he wasn't saying, Voyd leaned forward in worry. "Screech, what's wrong?"
After a moment of silence, he admitted, "The one who designed the wings was in his eighties when he did so. I'm afraid he has long since passed away. There may not be any hope for me to fly again."
Though Voyd's heart clenched in sympathy for her friend, she tried to stay upbeat. "Cheer up, Screech. I'm sure there's somebody out there who can make you an even better pair of wings!"
"Perhaps there is," said Screech, but Voyd knew his optimism was forced.
Krushauer spoke up from his position by the window; it was the early morning of the next day, with the orange sun peeking up above the city, and they'd all had very fitful sleeps the previous night. "Does anyone want to offer an explanation for what happened last night? Does anyone have one?"
"I think they want to bait us," Voyd said quietly, the smile slipping from her face. "Just like you said. I think the civilians were just like…a worm on a hook. And we're the fish."
"But why?" He-Lectrix, who had been unusually silent, asked. The super was sitting on a leather chair, looking disturbed and staring off into space. "Why do these people want to bait us?"
"It was Dehydra," Voyd said. "When she was attacking us, I heard this voice in my ear. It was the older one. Heartless. She said…" Voyd could hardly force the words out of her throat; they tasted like poison. "She told me, 'Kill her.' That's what she said."
For a moment, all was silent in the room as the Soaring Six processed this potentially-horrifying information.
"Kill her," Screech finally said, repeating the words with disgusted hesitation. "Why would they want us to kill each other?"
"I don't know," Voyd admitted, "but thank god it didn't work. Next time, we all need to be on our guard. Whatever they say, don't hurt each other."
"These are a couple of broads who really hate superheroes, aren't they?" said Reflux with narrowed eyes.
"For whatever reason," said He-Lectrix, still staring into the distance at something no one else could see.
"I just hope Dehydra is okay," Voyd said, looking out the window over the city and clasping her arms around herself as an involuntary chill shivered through her. The sand-powered superhero was in NSA custody, currently being interrogated—gently interrogated, Rick Dicker had assured the Soaring Six—for her role in the attack. "I hope the NSA understands that she didn't do any of it on purpose."
"They had better," said Krushauer. "We certainly explained it enough times."
"But how did villains make her evil?" asked Brick, looking at each of her friends with fear written clearly on her face. "And if they do it to her, can they not do the same to us?"
"They won't," Voyd insisted with fists clenched. "We know they've got the power to mess with people's emotions now. We can expect them to use it, and we can fight back."
Krushauer scoffed bitterly. "I'm not so sure. Even if we are expecting such an attack, who's to say any one of us will be strong enough to resist it?"
"What exactly did those freaks do to Dehydra, anyhow?" asked Reflux.
"I have a theory," He-Lectrix said. But still, he didn't look at his colleagues as he spoke to them; he just kept staring off at the opposite wall.
Voyd was concerned for him, but she didn't want to bother him about it. "What's your theory?"
"Her mother," said He-Lectrix. "She was angry about her mother. About how the killer got off with a slap on the wrist. And I think those villains took that anger and made it stronger, made it so strong that she couldn't do anything but fight us indiscriminately, so strong that she couldn't even think or act rationally. That's my theory, anyhow."
"Well, that makes things easier," Reflux declared. "None of us is angry like Dehydra was. So we'll be okay. Right?"
"Don't be so sure," Krushauer warned. "If they can only use someone's anger, then those who aren't angry will be fine. But if they can use other emotions…"
"We'll just hope that they can't," said Voyd, trying to offer a reassuring smile to the others. "And even if they can, we can try to resist. Right?"
"Yes. We will all try our best to resist. And with luck, we will win." Screech lifted his head and gave a tired smile. "We must remain positive, and think about the good. At least no one was badly injured or killed."
Voyd almost sagged with relief as she was reminded of this fact. "Yeah."
Reflux spoke. "Hey. You think we're on the news?"
A foreboding, dreadful curiosity flared in Voyd's chest, and although she knew she probably wouldn't like whatever they'd see on the television, she knew that she couldn't go another second without finding out. "We can find out," she replied, searching the room with her eyes for the remote control until she found it lying on a nearby ottoman. She picked it up and her finger hovered over the power button, then stopped. "If everyone else is okay with it, that is," she quickly added, glancing around at the faces of her teammates.
No one offered any outright objection, so Voyd pressed the power button, almost wishing she could clench her eyes shut as she did so. The TV flickered to life, and she turned it to the all-day news channel.
Just as she'd expected, they were talking about the attack on the airport. A serious-looking, trenchcoat-wearing report was standing in front of the damaged building, microphone in hand, as cleanup crews worked behind him. "…lucky this disaster didn't turn into a senseless tragedy. No lives were lost, but as Chief Davis commented earlier, things could easily have gone much worse, were it not for the quick arrival…"
In this brief moment, Voyd's guts rose into her throat and she leaned toward the screen with wide eyes, waiting for him to say, …of the superhero team known as the Soaring Six.
"…of New Urbem's brave first responders," the reporter said solemnly, and Voyd deflated. "The villains were caught on security footage—" A grainy image popped up in the corner of the screen, showing the two evildoers. "—and according to unconfirmed reports, these attackers are calling themselves 'Heartless' and 'Queen of Hearts.' As for the superheroes who attended the scene—"
Voyd's hope returned, and she eagerly leaned forward again, waiting for their work to be acknowledged.
"—their night did not go smoothly. According to eyewitnesses, the supers bravely helped several civilians escape the area, but then were forced to fight one of their own gone rogue, at which point the villains were able to escape unmolested. No report so far on what caused this hero to attack their own side. Certainly, last night was not a stellar showing for this burgeoning hero team, who are likely kicking themselves for allowing—"
"Oh," Voyd said quietly, shaking her head in disappointment.
"What will it take for them to praise us?" Krushauer's arms were crossed tightly and his mouth was a thin line. "It's a serious question. Is there anything we can do that they won't find a flaw with?"
Voyd was still listening intently to the reporter, and she was taken aback when a grainy photo of He-Lectrix appeared in the screen's bottom corner. "This super, known as He-Lectrix—we're getting unconfirmed reports that he attacked a civilian, whether purposefully or by mistake. Now, this alleged victim has evidently been taken to hospital and plans to file a lawsuit for her mistreatment—"
Voyd's eyes snapped over to He-Lectrix; the blue-suited super had slumped even lower into the chair, with eyes staring at the ground. "Look, we all know you didn't do it on purpose," she told him, trying to be reassuring. "The truth will come out."
"Yeah," He-Lectrix said dejectedly, not looking at her. It was the lowest she'd ever seen him, and her heart ached.
"…a chaotic night for these superheroes, who retired to their home base and have not been seen since," the reporter continued.
Feeling like she hadn't done enough to lift his spirits, Voyd tried again. "Seriously, He-Lectrix. It's okay. You couldn't have done anything to prevent it."
He raised his hand and looked at her, eyes underscored with heavy circles. "Couldn't I, though?"
At the sight of her friend in such pain, Voyd felt suddenly infuriated that the media would treat them like this. "Of course not! Anyone could see it was an accident!"
He-Lectrix shook his head. "Come on, Voyd. Don't tell me that if you hurt a random innocent person, you wouldn't be kicking yourself too. Don't tell me you don't get it."
"Yeah," she said in dismay, "but…"
But the reporter's face had disappeared from the screen and a more familiar one had replaced it. Voyd went quiet as Senator Michael Maple, who was standing near the airport and looking righteously peeved, started to speak.
"Oh, shit," said Krushauer resignedly just before Maple began to talk.
"Yet more evidence," said the senator, finger pointed in the air, "that supers do more harm than good. First of all, one of these so-called 'heroes' turned and attacked the others, and frankly, this is a danger I've always been worried about. These people, these superhumans who have more power and strength than the rest of us—who's to say any one of them won't turn rogue at any moment? And if they do, what's our contingency plan?
"We lift these super-soldiers up on pedestals, we turn them into celebrities, we worship at their altar, we give them free rein to act at their own discretion, the government pays for their armor—" He slammed his fist into his open palm with each point, eyes narrowed in apparent fury. "And yet we're surprised when one of their number gets power-hungry and decides to go rogue? I, for one, am not surprised. I'm angry, sure, but I'm not surprised. And to top it all off, one of these so-called 'good guys' electrocuted a citizen! Where is the justice for this woman? Where are the repercussions? We cannot simply allow this protected class of felons to run wild and do as they please. There must be some level of accountability. I'm on this victim's side, I'll tell you that. And I will fight for her rights, just as I fight for the rights of every normal person in—"
"Please turn it off," said He-Lectrix, voice heavy, and Voyd immediately obeyed. The room was plunged into weighty silence.
"Don't listen to him," she insisted, though it was a sentiment she was growing less and less sure about. "He's wrong. We saved tons of people."
"Quite right, we did." Voyd hoped she was wrong, but she thought she might see a hint of glowing lava in Reflux's throat as the infuriated old super began to speak. "Who in the hell do these media idiots think they are, anyway? One day, we could be saving their behinds from a villain, and when that day comes, you want to bet I'll be dropping them a few times by 'accident.'"
Krushauer was shaking his head with a tight, cynical smile. "Ungrateful. They always have been, and they always will be. Sometimes I wonder if this work is worth it, when this is how they treat us in return."
"If I may," Screech spoke up softly, "and I don't mean to offend, but we did make mistakes last night. Myself included, of course. We must always strive to be better, and if the media holds us accountable for our flaws, then so be it. There is always room for growth."
Krushauer objected, "They aren't only holding us accountable—they're spit-roasting us. There was barely a mention of our victories, the civilians we helped protect. The focus was all on our losses. It's beyond unfair."
"Yes!" spoke up Reflux, jabbing a finger in the air. "There's no respect for our work! They only want to find ways to tear us down! It's disgraceful! In my day, veterans were treated with respect!"
Brick's quiet, low murmur entered the conversation. "I am ashamed," said the accented super softly. "They make me feel shame. But shame is good, I think. It push us to do better. We feel shame, we improve. We must listen and learn, not argue and close ears. At least, I think so."
"There is no reason for you to be ashamed, Brick," Krushauer said firmly. "You did nothing wrong. None of us did."
Brick didn't reply.
"We did let them get away…" Voyd pointed out softly, feeling guilt overwhelm her own heart. She clutched her arms around herself as though she were freezing cold, and a stray thought wandered through her mind: did Elastigirl ever feel like this? Of course not, Voyd's mind instantly responded to its own question. She was always a media darling. Everyone loved her. No one was ever critical of the golden girl—at least, not that Voyd remembered. And for good reason, too. Voyd couldn't imagine Elastigirl hurting a civilian or letting a villain flee. Even by accident.
"Even Mr. Incredible himself didn't capture every single villain in his heyday," said Reflux with a scowl. "And he's the gold standard! Why should we expect ourselves to be better than the gold standard when we're just starting out? For that matter, why should snobby news guys and slimy politicians with no brains in their heads?"
Voyd looked at the ground; she didn't know what to think, so many thoughts buzzing around her head. And to top it all off, she had a shift at the pet store coming up at twelve o'clock. She didn't even know if she could handle that much.
The alarm clock on the bedside table showed 7:56 AM in blocky red letters as Voyd's hand hesitated over the phone that sat on the table beside the clock. She was sitting on the bed in one of the bedrooms at the SJP, hotly debating whether to call the person she intended to phone.
Elastigirl had given Voyd her home phone number in case of emergency, and Voyd had nearly fainted when the older super handed her the pink slip of paper with a wink. Or, at least, Voyd remembered her winking, but she wasn't sure if that had actually happened or if it was just a product of her imagination. In any case, Voyd's hand was hovering over the phone, and she bit her lip hard in uncertainty. She could use some guidance from the wiser, more seasoned hero—now more than ever. But she didn't want to bother Elastigirl, either. She didn't want to play the role of the obsessive, clingy fan who didn't know the meaning of the word boundaries.
But it was just one phone call.
Her cautious side lost out. Voyd picked up the phone and dialed the seven-digit number she'd memorized by heart, and held the phone up to her ear. It rang, shrill and insistent. Her heartbeat quickened. What would she say? Hi? It's an honor to speak to you again? Good morning? Sorry to bother you? A combination of all of them? None of them?
There was a click, and a pleasant male voice answered the phone. "Hello?"
It was Mr. Incredible. Slightly less daunting, but still no piece of cake: she'd idolized all the heroes of old, including and especially him, and the idea of talking to him was petrifying. For a microsecond she entertained the idea of just hanging up. But instead, she steeled herself.
"Hi, M-Mr. Incredible. It's me, Voyd."
"Oh! Hi." In the background, she heard the sound of a screaming infant, and frustrated noises from Mr. Incredible before he returned to the phone. "Sorry if I'm a little distracted. Things are hectic around here. What do you need?"
"I'd l-like to speak to Elastigirl, please, if it's no trouble." She thought about adding an extra If she's not available it's totally okay at the end of the sentence, but decided that might be a little too much.
"Helen?" said Mr. Incredible distractedly; she heard Jack-Jack gurgling. "Sure, no problem, I'll get her for you."
Helen. Her name was Helen.
This was monumental, and Voyd gulped as she realized the enormity of the moment. She knew Elastigirl's name. Had Mr. Incredible slipped up, made a terrible mistake, spilled a secret he had meant to keep? Or did he just trust Voyd enough to not mind if she knew the Incredibles' secret identities? Either thought made her dizzy. Anyhow, the secret was safe with Voyd, no matter what.
There were various thumping, bumping and clattering sounds. A faint "Give this to your mother." An even fainter "Awwwww, Dad, I was in the middle of this game!" The sound of wind rushing past the receiver.
Then, the moment arrived.
That raspy voice answered the phone. "Hello?"
Voyd swallowed hard and screwed up her courage. "Um, hi. It's V-Voyd."
"Hi." Voyd couldn't gauge the tone in Elastigirl's voice. "What do you need? Is there an emergency?"
"Um, n-no. I'm s-sorry to bother you. It's just… have you seen the news lately?"
A baby's piercing wail stabbed in the background. "I'm a little busy right now, Voyd," Elastigirl said, sounding like she was trying not to sound impatient. "I'm sorry. Is this an emergency?"
Voyd's heart shattered into a million pieces, and she absentmindedly twisted the phone cord around her finger. "No! No. It's not an emergency. I'm really sorry to bother you. It's okay…" She faltered, trailing off. She knew she'd just be bothering the Incredibles if she called them. She'd known it and done it anyway. Stupid, stupid!
Elastigirl's sigh crackled through the phone. "I did see the news. I saw what happened. They're really putting you guys through the wringer, aren't they? And you called for advice, huh?"
She was so perceptive. Voyd's heart mended. "Yeah. I'm j-just feeling so down about it, and I was wondering… well, I was just wondering if you'd ever gone through the s-same thing."
"The media talking smack about me?" Elastigirl laughed. "Yeah. It happens. It happens to all of us, to the best of us. It is what it is. You'll learn to co-exist with those vultures." Her tone grew more serious, more motherly. "The best advice I can offer is this: there's always gonna be a hurt bystander threatening to sue, or a politician screaming about property damage. But the important part is to remember all the good you did in the process. You guys saved people, Voyd. I know you did. And that is what matters. That is why we do the work that we do. Remember that."
Voyd knew her face was redder than a beet at the moment, and to hear her idol say these words only made her blush harder. "T-Thanks. I really needed to hear that."
"You're welcome." The baby's wail became even louder, and Voyd could practically hear an eye-roll in Elastigirl's sigh. "Looks like my husband requires some assistance. You need anything else?"
"Uh, n-no. I'm good. Thank you."
"Bye, then." The phone abruptly clicked into silence, and a dial tone droned into Voyd's ear. She sat there with the phone against her cheek for a while, just listening.
