Chapter Fifty Five
Read on, oh faithful ones...
...
Despite Principal Powers' assurance that the bus was fixed and could no longer be tampered with, most students held their breath in a mix of fear and anticipation on the flight up to Sky High on Monday morning. Some students kept glancing back, checking to see if they were leaking fuel, while others gripped onto the railing with white-knuckled hands and closed their eyes tightly.
Layla was feeling a little anxious herself and couldn't blame the rest of the students for their own worries. She held onto Warren's hand tightly, her stomach dropping with every bout of turbulence they experienced. Beside her, Warren was far too tired to feel anxious, and simply closed his eyes to sleep and rubbed his thumb on the back of Layla's hand every time she squeezed tightly.
A sigh of relief went through the students as they saw Sky High come into view, though no one truly relaxed until the bus itself had landed on the runway. Layla extracted her hand from Warren's, wincing at the marks she'd left behind.
"Sorry."
"Hmm? It's all right," Warren said, shrugging and flexing his hand briefly to ease the tightness. Taking Layla's bag, he headed down the bus aisle and stepped off, stopping short when he saw Cassie waiting.
Behind him, Layla glanced over Warren's shoulder to see what had caused the hold up, and tried not to laugh. She took her bag from Warren and kissed his cheek. "See you later. Good morning, Cassie," Layla said before she headed up to the school building.
"M-morning," Cassie called after Layla, turning pink.
Warren wondered if that was because of her bubblegum power or just her complexion.
"Hi, Warren," Cassie said shyly, following him as he headed up to the school after Layla.
"Cassie."
"Do you have a busy day today? I mean, you probably do being a junior. Do you like the work? What's your favourite class? Do you actually study in your study period?" Cassie asked, rapidly firing questions at him without waiting for a response.
Warren didn't bother responding since she didn't seem to need an answer, and kept walking through Sky High until he reached the freshman lockers. "Isn't this your area?" he interrupted her barrage of questions.
Cassie looked around, a little surprised to see that they were inside already, and nodded. "Yeah. My locker's over there," she said, pointing to the locker that had bubblegum wrappers stuck to the front.
"Wouldn't have guessed if you hadn't told me," Warren said flatly. "Bye."
"Bye, Warren!" she called out eagerly behind him, far too loud and to the wide-eyed awe of the other freshman around her.
Warren regretted that Layla hadn't chosen Cassie. As he passed the sophomore lockers, Warren saw Layla up ahead talking with Magenta about her weekend and the Mad Science test she'd been working on. Stopping by his girlfriend, Warren put an arm around Layla's shoulders and kissed her cheek when she stopped talking. "She's perky, hippie. Don't leave me alone with her again," he muttered, just loud enough for Magenta to hear. "Morning, Magenta," Warren added, then continued to the junior's lockers.
"Who's perky?" Magenta asked when Layla just laughed.
"Cassie, the freshman. She's taken a liking to Warren after the bus fiasco last week."
"Blonde with pink bubblegum?" Magenta asked, only remembering who she was due to the school paper's report of the bus incident.
"Yeah. It's cute," Layla said.
"You're not worried?" Magenta asked, seeing the blonde freshman further down the hall and being reminded far too forcefully of the perky blonde reporter that Will had flirted with.
"What should I be worried about?"
"Oh, nothing, never mind," Magenta said, shaking her head. "I'd better get to homeroom. See you later, Layla," she said, ducking past to get to her classroom.
Her exit wasn't as smooth as Magenta had envisioned in her head, and she bumped into someone in the hallway, a cold shiver creeping up her spine. Layla was beside her in an instant, drawing her away from the crowd and back to the relative safety by her locker.
On Layla's wrist, she felt Warren's joy at their test working. She bit back a grin, putting on a worried expression instead. "Are you okay, Magenta? You just went pale all of a sudden; you've shivering," Layla said, trying not to sound too delighted about the fact. "Here, I have a cardigan you can borrow."
Magenta usually wouldn't be caught dead wearing a cardigan, but she realised that her teeth were chattering and she accepted the warm material, gratefully slipping it on. "I don't know what happened. I must've moved too fast," she said, rubbing her arms. "I'll be fine now."
"Are you sure? You still look a little cold; I can get Warren to warm you up in a second," Layla offered with a grin.
"Sounds a bit too like swinging for me," Magenta said, snickering. "I'm okay. Thanks, Layla."
"Not a problem at all. Are you sure you're all right?" Layla added, seeing Magenta's pale complexion.
"Yeah, I'm sure; the cardigan's helped. I'd better get to homeroom. I might just go a little slower this time," she added with a grin.
"Well, take care. Text me if you need anything, okay?" Layla added as Magenta headed towards her homeroom once again.
Grabbing her own things for the morning, Layla went to her homeroom, smiling when she saw that a flowering tree outside the classroom had started to bloom in response to her power. As she watched it, Layla saw the flowers dropping to the ground and the leaves turning a fiery orange colour before dying completely, and she knew that Warren had affected the tree as well.
"Miss Williams, your attention, please," Mr. Medulla said.
"Yes, Mr. Medulla," Layla said, looking away.
Outside, the tree grew green and bright once more.
...
Will stopped short on seeing his girlfriend wearing his ex-girlfriend's clothes. Well, her cardigan, but it was enough to make him feel very confused and he didn't like that feeling at all. Sitting across from Magenta, Will took a moment to poke the straw through his juice box - carefully, this time, he hated being covered in sticky juice - and drank some before nodding to the cardigan. "Is that new?" he asked, knowing very well that it wasn't.
"Oh, no. I was really cold this morning, and Layla let me borrow it. I'm kind of liking it, don't tell anyone," Magenta said with a laugh.
"Oh, it's Layla's?" Will asked, a little high pitched and coughing, thumping his chest - again, carefully. His father had warned him about broken ribs and cracked sternums.
"Yes. Is that weird?" Magenta asked, feeling hesitant.
Will poked at his food and shrugged. "A little. But, I mean, if you're still cold..."
"No, I'm not. I guess I should return it anyway," Magenta said, worrying at her lip.
"Yeah, probably. She might need it back," Will agreed, prompting her to stand up and shrug the cardigan off.
Across the cafeteria, Wendy sat next to Layla. "How's your morning been so far?"
"Not bad. I think Cassie's this close to drooling," Layla said, spearing baby spinach leaves and a cherry tomato on her fork. "Maybe I should get Warren to smile in her direction."
"Do you really want to deal with a fainting freshman?" Wendy asked, investigating the contents of her sandwich with a frown. "I think I might start getting salad for lunch; this is ridiculous."
"Is that piece of chicken meant to be wet?" Layla asked, wincing.
"No, it's really not. Warren, can you toast my sandwich so I don't get food poisoning?" Wendy asked.
"Hand it over," Warren said, wishing he'd thought of it himself for his own lunch.
"How much are you charging for the sandwich toasting?" Craig asked as he sat down with Adam.
"Dude, you've got tater tots."
"I could get a sandwich tomorrow if there's the option to have it toasted," Craig said, dunking four tater tots in sauce and shoving them in his mouth.
Adam rolled his eyes at his best friend and swapped their bottles of juice.
Warren ignored them and separated Wendy's sandwich with his unused knife and fork, then clicked his hand into a flame. Changing the heat slightly, Warren kept the flames at a steady temperature, heating the chicken until it looked properly cooked, then toasting the two slices of bread as well. "There's not much I can do about the salad," he said, handing the deconstructed sandwich back to Wendy.
"Oh, I can do that," Layla said with a grin.
In an instant, the greenish tomato slices ripened, the lettuce no longer looked shrivelled, and the shredded carrot turned that little bit brighter.
"That looks good. Can you fix my sandwich up too, Lay?" Zach asked, grinning with a mouthful of said sandwich in his mouth.
"You have an egg sandwich, Zach."
"Egg salad sandwich," he corrected.
"There's a piece of lettuce in your sandwich and it's fine."
"It's fine, but it could be better," Zach said, indicating with the sandwich and a bit of egg falling down on his tray with a wet splat.
Layla rolled her eyes. Beside her, Warren was toasting the remainder of his lunch and she fixed his salad as well.
"You two can open up a sandwich shop; all we need now is someone who can make sauces and salad dressings," Craig said, then frowned as he thought of a super-powered person making sauces and dressings. "Ew, wait."
Donny choked on one of his fries at the mental image. "Please stop thinking about that. Elephants, dear god, think about elephants."
Zach almost choked on his sandwich trying not to laugh. Beside him, Ethan whacked him on the back a few times and offered Zach his bottle of water.
"Don't die on me over an egg salad sandwich," Ethan muttered, watching carefully to make sure his boyfriend would be okay.
"Too young... to die," Zach said between wheezing breaths.
"Hey Layla," Magenta said. "Are you okay, Zach?" she asked, seeing how red he'd turned.
"Fine," he gasped, waving off her concern.
"Right... Uh, thanks for lending me your cardigan this morning, Layla; it was really nice and warm," Magenta said, handing Layla's cardigan back to her.
Layla smiled. "My mother got the wool from a sheep she treated. I mean, she didn't make the cardigan herself, but she had one of her clients do it for her."
"She was a veterinarian; what sort of client made it?" Craig asked, frowning.
"The human kind, dork," Adam said, nudging him in the ribs.
Magenta seemed amused at Craig's question. "Well, thanks again, Layla. Enjoy your lunch. Mine looks depressing."
"What'd you get?" Craig asked curiously, craning his neck to try to see over Zach's head.
"The lasagne," Magenta said, her nose wrinkling.
Warren looked green at the thought. "If you bring it over, I'll cook it through properly for you. Or would you prefer food poisoning?" he added, a little viciously when Magenta seemed unsure.
"Uh. Okay. Thanks," Magenta said, leaving to get her lunch and returning, both Larry and Will frowning after her.
Warren heated it in a matter of seconds, melting the cheese and cooking the pasta sheets fully. "There, done. Don't burn yourself," he said, handing the tray back to her.
"Thanks, Warren," Magenta said, still a little stunned by the fact that Warren had helped her.
Layla grinned as Magenta walked off, pressing a kiss to Warren's shoulder. "Lovely work."
Warren snorted and rolled his eyes. "If I'm going to be a hero, I'd better start off sooner rather than later."
"It was weird seeing you being nice. And seriously, you should start charging before students start using your services for free," Craig said, shaking his head.
"Hmm, what do you think, hippie? Too villainous if I charge students?"
Layla thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. "Morally grey, but I wouldn't expect anything less. Doing it for free is a bit too vanilla."
"I'll charge a dollar per meal; tell people so I don't have to," Warren said, finishing the last bite of his now-toasted sandwich.
...
Layla inhaled, feeling slightly nervous. Her vines squeezed inside of her, as though reminding Layla that they could take her nerves. She smiled, but didn't let them do that. Feeling nervous, showing her nerves, felt more like a human response and Layla knew the Mayor would respond to that more than a cold-feeling super.
Knocking on the Mayor's door, Layla waited until he'd called her in, opening it and stepping inside.
"Layla, what can I do for you?" he asked, hardly glancing up from a new skyscraper contract he was reading over.
"I've come to discuss a pay rise, Mr. Mayor," she said.
The Mayor blinked at her frank admission, and finally looked up. "A pay rise?"
"Yes, sir. While this extra task of creating appointments for the Commander and Jetstream shouldn't affect my job as your PA, I am technically doing another person's job."
He couldn't entirely disagree with that statement - the Mayor had already seen the email inbox that had been set up and had felt extremely relieved that he wasn't the one dealing with that mess. Of course, that didn't mean he'd tell Layla that quite so readily. "And you believe that is deserving of a pay rise?"
"Yes, sir. It's a long-term commitment, and requires someone who knows the super world - as well as the Commander and Jetstream - as well as I do."
The Mayor felt as though there was a threat in that, though he couldn't be entirely sure, and thought that perhaps he was projecting his own guilt onto Layla's words. He hadn't exactly told Jetstream that he wouldn't be personally handling the organisation of her future fights, as she had expected after their conversation the previous week. The Mayor didn't want to lose Jetstream and the Commander's support when he needed them to help smooth over any citizen outcry over a new skyscraper (or three) that would soon be dotting Maxville's skyline.
"I've looked at the figures, and a pay rise of forty percent would still save you almost fifty-thousand dollars a year," Layla added, presenting a piece of paper with her figures.
"Forty percent?! That's not going to happen. Ten percent," the Mayor countered.
Imperceptibly, Layla relaxed. The Mayor hadn't rejected her offer completely, which meant she would be getting a pay rise one way or another. "Ten percent is the equivalent of doing this role one day a week, sir, and villains won't restrict themselves to a single day. Thirty-five percent would equal six days a week."
The Mayor looked at the piece of paper this time and saw that Layla had included the pay rise figures for the days worked per week. "You can organise it three days a week; twenty percent."
"The Commander and Jetstream would disagree; there was a week last year where they fought against a villain a day," Layla pointed out, then went to her lowest offer, "Five days a week equivalent; thirty percent."
With her final offer presented, Layla stayed silent. The Mayor did as well, and while she felt like fidgeting at the growing silence, Layla didn't move or say a word. Two minutes later, just when she was about to break her silence, the Mayor sighed heavily.
"Thirty percent. Get the paperwork ready and I'll - " he stopped abruptly when Layla wrote down the agreed figure and handed him a piece of paper, the pay increase form ready and awaiting his signature. "Right. Well, then," the Mayor muttered, coughing and a little annoyed.
Damn it. He'd hoped that he might be able to pile work on Layla until she forgot about the whole thing all together. Signing the form with a flourish, the Mayor handed the paper back to her with no small amount of reluctance.
"Thank you, Mr. Mayor. Don't forget you have dinner with your wife at the Glass Mirror this evening. I took the liberty of organising a flower delivery for her this afternoon. Miscellaneous expense," Layla added.
"Ah, excellent. Thank you for the reminder, Layla," the Mayor said, having forgotten the reservation himself. The flowers would also smooth over his absence on the weekend when he'd spent time with one of his mistresses, even though Layla didn't know that tidbit. Neither did his wife, of course.
"The reservation's for seven o'clock," Layla said, nodding to the clock on the wall which stated it was bordering on six o'clock. "Would you like me to set an alarm for another fifteen minutes, or would you like to leave early in case of traffic?" she offered.
Glancing at the contract on his desk - one that he'd been read since five o'clock and still hadn't made it halfway through - the Mayor recognised an out when he was given one. He closed the manilla folder abruptly and stood up, fixing his tie and slipping on his jacket. "Well, I'd better be off. Traffic being what it is, of course," he added.
"Of course, sir," Layla said with a slight smile, leaving his office with the Mayor on her heels. "I might take this down to Finance before Wednesday's pay cut-off," she said, the Mayor keeping beside her as they headed to the elevators.
"Keep your pay rise between us, would you, Layla? There's not enough money for everyone to get a pay rise, of course, and if the others heard you had one, I'd be lynched. Everyone would want one, then," the Mayor said as they headed to the ground floor.
After looking at the finances for herself, Layla knew that was a lie; the Council had had a sizeable profit in the last financial year due to their tax increases, and they had an even bigger sinking fund that would support pay rises for every Council employee three times over.
"Of course, Mr. Mayor. Enjoy your night," Layla said as the Mayor left the elevator and the foyer.
Waving to Dave, Layla headed to Finance to hand in her newly-signed form.
...
"How'd you go with the Mayor?" Warren asked when they were on the bus to the Hive.
Layla smiled. "Good; he agreed to a thirty percent pay rise for five days a week."
"Thirty? I thought you'd only planned on twenty for five days?"
"I might have modified the figures slightly," she said, eyes bright as she grinned at him.
Warren laughed and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Sneaky, hippie."
"Thank you," Layla quipped, pressing the bus' button for the upcoming stop.
The driver was a different person to the weekend driver they were getting to know, so didn't stop closer to the Hive. Still, Layla and Warren called out their thanks as they stepped off the bus, waiting until the tail lights had disappeared before walking down the road to the Hive.
Layla stopped at the tree line of the forest, frowning. "Someone's been here."
Warren's fists lit up. "Who?"
"Well, whoever it is, they don't seem to be here to hurt us. They wouldn't have made it through the forest otherwise," Layla pointed out.
That didn't appease Warren completely, though his flames lessened. "Where are they?"
"Out past Eden," Layla said.
She took Warren's hand, ignoring the flames licking against her skin, and guided him Warren around the Hive to the back garden and down the small path where lights were set up.
"Honey? What are you doing here?" Warren asked incredulously, seeing the woman setting up a waist-high white rectangle box amongst another five boxes already set up.
"You're earlier than I expected," Honey admitted, running a hand through her messy hair.
"Are those bee hives?" Layla asked, stepping forward as she heard the soft hum of sleeping bees, her hand resting on the closest box gently.
Honey nodded. "I thought you might like to start selling honey. There's a, uh, where is it?" she murmured, patting her pockets. "Ah, there," Honey said, reaching down to a fallen pamphlet by her feet. "There's a two-day beekeeping course in two weeks' time; it's before your shifts at the Paper Lantern, Warren, and Mum should be able to take and pick you up if you ask tonight," she added, holding the pamphlet out to them.
Warren let the flames disappear from his hands before taking the pamphlet, his curiosity overtaking his lingering annoyance at Honey's sabotage of the bus. The low lights that Honey had set up provided enough light to read the pamphlet and Layla moved beside him to read it as well.
As they read, Honey paced back and forth. "Okay, I can't handle the suspense anymore. Do you forgive me?" she asked when they'd finished reading, wringing her hands.
Layla seemed surprised by her question. "We forgave you a week ago, Honey."
Honey blinked a few times. "You didn't tell me that."
Warren snorted a laugh. "Consider us even for you almost killing us, then."
Opening and closing her mouth a few times, Honey sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "All right, that works for me."
Ari ran up, barking eagerly and covered in fresh dirt with some of Layla's flowers scattered on his fur coat. Layla sighed, looking back towards Eden and trying to see the damage.
"I just bathed you yesterday," Honey groaned, though Ari simply looked pleased at his contribution to the large garden.
"I'll fix it up, hippie," Warren said, both of them heading to Eden to see what needed to be done.
Layla lit her hands carefully so Warren could see, both of them wincing at the large hole Ari had dug. Warren thought about the flower he wanted to create. So far he'd mostly made vines and brightened a few flowers here and there, but nothing that would grow and last. When he had the flower pictured in his mind, Warren imagined a seed in the ground, starting to grow and sprout through the earth, the petiole green and strong. He watched as his thoughts came to life, a blue hydrangea blossoming despite the late hour. Letting his power's hold fade slowly, Warren knew that the roots had taken hold in the earth and the hydrangea would continue to grow without his help. The hydrangea leaned towards him when he reached out carefully, feeling awed at the life he'd created.
"It's beautiful, Warren," Layla said, kissing him.
Honey's cough drew them apart, and she looked guilty as she held Ari in her arms. "Sorry about that; Ari's still learning not to dig up everything in sight. I'm happy to drive you both back to Mum's, if you'd like?"
As Layla and Warren had only come out to the Hive to practice with their powers - which they'd technically done, despite the short duration - they nodded in agreement. Honey smiled and headed to where she'd parked the minivan behind a cluster of trees, away from the sight of the main road.
"You might want to consider a parking area; this will get difficult after it's been raining," Honey said.
"I'd prefer not to have car fumes near the Hive," Layla replied.
"The parking area doesn't have to be right next to it. The paddock next to the Hive is going up for sale soon, and you can use a combination of trees and plants to both muffle any noise and reduce the carbon emissions. A path through to the Hive would make for a pleasant walk. For most people, at least," she added.
"We're not putting concrete down," Layla said firmly.
"There's a type of gravel that's wheelchair-accessible, and it won't affect the plants."
"We'd need Council permission to create a parking lot, won't we?" Warren asked.
"Yes, most likely. It can be done at the same time you register the Hive as a business."
"How much honey do you expect us to sell?" Warren asked incredulously.
"More than you'd expect," Honey replied with a shrug, then looked in the rear view mirror. "Your blue hydrangeas are going to be a hit, Warren."
"Really?" Warren asked, surprised and pleased at the idea.
Layla smiled at him, taking his hand and squeezing. "I'm buying the first one."
Warren lifted her hand to press a warm kiss to her knuckles. "Thanks, hippie."
...
"All right. Thanks to everyone for handing your work in, it's been enlightening to discover what you know. Some of you need to catch up quickly. I've written it on your feedback sheets; if you have a problem, please see me after class," Jared said, handing back their English overviews and heading back to the front of the class. "Now, we have to study at least one autobiography or biography, and the school curriculum states it must be written by or about a superhero or super-villain. Does anyone have any ideas?"
"Jetstream."
"The Commander."
"Both very good choices, but their biographies are already best-sellers and I'd say you could all quote them off by heart. In the interest of learning something new, does anyone else have a different suggestion?" Jared asked.
He'd asked the same question of every English for Heroes class so far and the silence had been overwhelming, as well as a little depressing. He himself knew that there were more supers in the world than just Jetstream or the Commander, and the students' lack of response had Jared wondering if the students had any idea of the superheroes beyond Maxville. Upon graduation, the students would find out very quickly that they wouldn't get any work - or fame - while the Commander and Jetstream worked in Maxville, so they needed to think beyond the metropolis' borders.
"All-American Boy?" someone offered weakly.
Jared shook his head and tried not to seem too disappointed. With a bit of a flourish, Jared tugged on the string hanging in front of his whiteboard. A world map came into view, covered in hundreds of post-it notes and stars. "The post-it notes are the names of the most well-known supers in those countries, both heroes and villains. The ones with stars have either written their own autobiography or have had a biography written about them. Come up, have a look, and take your time. Yes, I encourage you to look at these supers' names on your phones, so bring them up as well," he said, smiling warmly when the students looked to each other in confusion.
Sure, they knew about their own parents if they were a second-generation super, but they'd seen the news reports, the comic strips, the interviews and exposé's of Jetstream and the Commander defeating villains all over the world. They'd defeated the octopus-shapeshifter in France, the Trident Triplets in Greece, and the Ninety Ninjas in Japan. Jetstream and the Commander won where others failed.
Jared could have told them that Jetstream and the Commander tended to take over any other supers when they were in the area, flying ahead to defeat the villains and leaving that country's superhero in the dirt if it suited them. It had taken years for Chatte in France, Gátaki in Greece, and Koneko in Japan to win back their public's trust, respect, and admiration. Gattino still hadn't recovered from the last time Jetstream went to Rome to "pick up pizza for dinner" and just so happened to defeat a villain while she was there.
The students approached the board hesitantly, but within minutes, some were searching on their phones with frowns, others talking to each other about half-remembered news clips.
They'd seen Koneko helping citizens after a tsunami in Japan.
Chatte had stopped that truck from falling from a bridge in France, hadn't he?
Wasn't Gátaki helping Greece's tourism with scheduled fights between her and the local villains?
"Mr. Bowie? Who's Babel?" one student asked, seeing the bright red post-it with Babel's name written on it.
While the other post-its were yellow, Jared had purposely written his mother's name on a different coloured one to encourage students to question it. So far, they all had.
"She's my mother," Jared replied, smiling. "Babel's currently the longest serving super Ambassador to the UN, though she plans to retire in the next few years. Has anyone thought of their career beyond fighting - or doing - crime?" he asked the class in general.
A few people shifted uncomfortably at the question, reminded far too forcibly of Hourglass' recent talk at assembly. They had superpowers, they didn't really have a choice beyond crime fighting or doing, did they?
"What does the super Ambassador for the UN do?" someone asked, hoping to redirect the conversation from questions none of them could answer yet, and genuinely curious about his response.
"Babel represents all of the supers across the world in the United Nations. So when the citizens from other countries create a global peace treaty, Babel weighs in on how supers may or may not be able to help. The recent Global Warming Treaty - did anyone hear about it in the news? No? The Global Warming Treaty is basically a document that all countries have to sign to agree to reduce the amount of greenhouse gasses they emit by the year 2020. It's a way to save the planet, animals, people, and trees from dying."
"How does it stop people from dying?"
"People usually plant trees in order to reduce the amount of greenhouse gas emissions they produce, and that means there's more oxygen to breathe. Of course, it can also change the way food is produced or sourced, as both animals and plants can create a lot of emissions as well. But that's a discussion for another day," Jared added, not wanting to get completely off-topic. "Now, the treaty that was proposed by the UN had some additions for supers: those with earth-like supers would be required to mine coal and add to the re-forestation so that citizens wouldn't have to do these tasks; electricity-inclined and weather-supers would be required to generate a certain amount of electricity for power grids and wind turbines. A few governments even put in their own amendments to have any supers who could control, create, or affect oil to be tagged and registered for government use."
"What?!"
"They can't do that!"
"We can't do that!"
Jared held up a hand at the burst of outrage from several students, waiting until they'd settled before continuing. "That is why the super Ambassador represents every super in the UN: to make sure we're not blindly shoved into something we can't commit to. Everyone in the super world knows that there's only thirty weather-supers across the US - there's maybe seventy world-wide, and they wouldn't be able to handle the enormity of that task without hurting themselves and potentially others. The UN - most citizens, in fact - don't see it that way, as most of them believe that superpowers are limitless things that we can control perfectly 100% of the time.
"Now, Babel refused to those terms, additions, and amendments. She proposed changes and alternatives until there was something that was agreeable to both the citizens and herself as Ambassador. Trust me: one super going against one-hundred and ninety-three citizens is much tougher than it sounds."
"Babel's the only super Ambassador?"
Jared nodded. "Yes. Babel has been petitioning for years to have super Ambassador representatives from each country, as it is with the UN citizens, but there hasn't been the support for such a cause before."
There was a long moment of silence.
"How does Babel get the support?"
"Is it something we can support?"
"We can do something about that, right? I've got friends overseas who'd love that sort of job."
Jared grinned and pulled the map down from the screen carefully, revealing a website, several phone numbers and email addresses, and a list of people they could harass (ahem, contact) on social media to voice their protests. Beneath that was a link to the Global Warming Treaty itself so they could read the agreement and exactly what Babel had done for them.
"Now, whose autobiography or biography would you like to read?" Jared asked.
This time, there were no shortage of answers.
...
End of the fifty-fifth chapter.
Author's note: Yes, I named all of the international superheroes either cat or kitten. #original
Thanks for reading; I hope you liked it!
