=== CINDI ===

After Des cleared me for our vacation, Curt and I got to packing. We were going to have fun. We had both chosen things we wanted to do. There was to be no work, unfortunately. But with my latest score, we would be set for a while, and it's not like we couldn't always get more. After all, we are the two greatest thieves in the world. And together, nothing can stop us. Not Smash Gal, not Professor Mind, nothing. I smiled to myself as I folded my clothes and put them away. Curt came out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel over his head; my eyes fell on the scars he had collected. So many of them were recent. I'm so glad we're doing this. Getting this man to relax is just short of impossible. And we've earned this. After everything, we deserve a little happiness.

  He smiled up at me and snapped on his little device. He wouldn't leave it behind. I had tried to convince him to just have the poppers available and use those to get around, but he flatly refused. "Nah, they're not efficient enough. It'll be better to have it. What if we need to go somewhere in a hurry? Or get to somewhere specific? You should bring yours too."

  I caved. I put the cute little cases Curt'd made in my bag. If I needed to get to them fast, I could. But I wasn't worried. After he got dressed and packed, he opened a portal to the first stop. He gave me the first choice. We stepped through the ingress together and walked out onto hot, white sand. The crashing of waves. The sun was high and bright. The beach was not exactly crowded, but there were some people around. No one seemed to notice that we had just arrived in such an unorthodox way. I wrapped my arm around his and leaned into him. "Think anyone saw that?"

  "Doubt it," he responded absently, starting to walk forward. "Most people aren't that aware of their surroundings. And my portals do kind of have an S.E.P. thing about them."

  "S.E.P.?" I asked, pouting.

  "Somebody Else's Problem. Basically, they might see it, but it's not got anything to do with them, so it's not important to them."

  "Do you really believe that?"

  "People rarely want to interact with the swirling energy circles of doom, so, kind of?"

  "I suppose."

  "So, what's the plan?"

  "We're going to do something I've always wanted to do but never got around to," I whispered excitedly, guiding him over to the pier. We got over to a rental station, and the man looked at us both closely for a moment. We each put down our I.D.s.

  "Curt Wagner and Kitty Pryde?" The attendant asked, eyeing us even more closely. Curt and I smiled and nodded, putting the money on the table; he shook his head. "Whatever."

  We were out on the open ocean a few minutes later as the same man drove us out. We were busy squeezing into wetsuits. Curt helped me fit on the oxygen pack. He then got on his phone. I glared at him and was about to mention it to him when Curt got up and showed the man something on his phone. After that, he put it away and sat next to me. After just short of an hour on the boat, we both fell back into the ocean. The water wrapped around us. I swam down deep, breathing in through the mouthpiece.

  The water was beautifully clear. Schools of fish dived out of our way, breaking into groups to avoid us. I reached out to touch them, but they scattered quickly when I did. Curt circled around me, and we went down. I frowned at him around the mouthpiece. He was wearing his glasses under his goggles. That man, I thought, kicking my feet after him. He swam fast, but his motions were not nearly as practiced as mine. My flight always felt like swimming through the air. I caught up to him quickly. He appeared to be looking for something; he swam deeper, getting to the ocean floor. I followed him. What is he up to?

  After a few minutes of swimming around, he dug something out of the dirt and sand, swam up, and held it up to me. I took it from him and rubbed some grime off it. It sparkled in the soft sunlight, barely breaking through the ocean water, even as clear as it was. It was a gold coin. Probably from the 14th century. In the water, I can't identify precisely where it was from, but it was quite the find. He gestured up and started swimming. I followed him, clutching the coin tightly. We broke the water, and Curt removed his breathing mask and cheerfully said, "I was right!"

  "Right about what?"

  "Pirates. There was a ship that sank maybe thirty miles from here. The ship was never found. So, I was doing some current drift calculations and realized we weren't that far off. So, I offered the boatman a little more money to go where I calculated to see if I could find it."

  "Curt, this is meant to be a vacation."

  "So, are you saying you don't want to explore a pirate ship with a bunch of gold on it?"

  "I . . . That does sound fun," I muttered, a smile spreading across my face. "But I didn't want this to be work."

  "Cin, we're out in the ocean. We're not getting shot at. We're just exploring. Doing archeology. This isn't like one of our jobs."

  "I . . . Okay. So, you found one piece. But that's not a ship. Do you have any idea where it could be?" I asked, stuffing the coin into the pocket of my suit.

  "Yeah, I'm pretty sure we're within a mile of it," he said, grinning. He is so cute. It's not exactly the vacation I had imagined, but this does seem more us. He unzipped his suit and took out a case; it matched mine. I watched him strap on his little device. "You ready?"

  "Lead the way, husband," I said. After we both replaced our mouthpieces, we dove down and swam. It took us a while to get anywhere. And the ocean gets dark quick. We crested an underwater cliff and stared out over, and there was a vague shape down below, but it was too dark to make it out. There were more schools of fish, some of them more immense than I would have figured. But we were really far out now. Curt swam down further, kicking off the cliff and powering through to the shape. He reached up and turned on a light he had on his goggles. I did the same. There was a wooden structure slowly rotting away in the ocean. It had a huge gash in it that had been mostly buried by the passage of time. Curt considered it for a moment, then swam up on the deck. I followed him and peered into one of the broken windows, and a sea of fish burst through the window, panicking, slamming me in the face. I rebounded and looked around. Having just barely heard the commotion, Curt grabbed my hand and pulled me through the school and up with him. He then motioned to the door. I swam up to it and tried it.

  It was stuck. The handle had rusted well past the ability to move. Curt frowned and tried to slam into the door but couldn't get enough speed. I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath before shifting through my wetsuit and the door. The water was so much colder without it, and I shuddered, but I got in and looked around. I couldn't see anything; my goggles and thus light were left on the other side. It was incredibly murky and dark in the room. I swam a little deeper into it. It might have once been a beautiful, ornate room, with several little baubles and even a nice carpet. At least, I think so. Again, it was incredibly dark. My lungs started to ache as I circled the room. I got to the chair behind a desk and swam around. The grinning face of a skeleton stared blankly up at me, and I shot back, gasping. I coughed as seawater filled my mouth. I started to choke.

  There was a crack to my side, but I was still struggling to keep what little air I had left in my lungs. It got louder. My heart started to pound fast; I was trapped in here; I was choking. I could die here. There was another one, and the door flew open. Curt swam forward, lugging my oxygen tank behind him. He pressed the mouthpiece into my hands. I clutched it tightly, leaning into it, and took several deep breaths, my heart rate decelerating to something approaching human levels. A little more stable, I took the wetsuit from him and slid into it. It was much more annoying to get into it underwater. Curt swam around, looking at things, shining his light on things as I worked to squeeze into the suit. Once done, I considered the goggles. I couldn't do much to keep the water out of them now. They were useless. I really shouldn't have used my powers like that, I lamented. It's not often, but I do sometimes wish I could keep my clothes on when doing my thing. Maybe I should work on that. Curt thinks it's psychosomatic. He might have a point. I thought about how I could kind of keep the teleport control he made for me on if I concentrated on it.

  Curt was busy trying to move the desk, only to find it nailed down. He furrowed his brows and then started digging through the drawers. I watched as my husband opened one that immediately closed itself. He opened it again, and it pulled itself closed again. He looked at me with wide eyes, silently asking What the hell? I shrugged. He opened it again, only to be sprayed in the face with a jet of black goo. Something swam past him and out of the room. I watched as an octopus slowly made its way. I grinned from behind the mask, watching the man I had chosen above all others desperately scrape the ink off his face. He then swam forward, shaking his head. We had found the ship, but we were running out of oxygen. We didn't have much longer to do this.

  We swam out of the captain's quarters and found a way down below deck. We swam deeper, and there were more fish. Thankfully, there were no sharks down here. Though the quarters would have been a little tight for a big one. It was a little spooky here in the dark, the only lights being our little headsets. Mine now hanging loosely around my neck. The saltwater was stinging my eyes, and it was getting hard to keep them open. We found more bodies, eaten away by the ocean and its inhabitants alike. Barebone grinning skeletons. We found surprisingly intact barrels. Ale and wine aged to vinegar by now, likely. Curt swam around, examining the area. I shivered. There was so little space in here. I worked to keep my breathing under control. He didn't have any way of knowing this, but I didn't like tight, dark spaces. I never have. My father had kept me in a few, and it had rarely been an issue ever since I got my powers. But still. With all of the pressure of the ocean and the oppressive darkness, it was starting to get to me. Curt swam up and pointed to the wall. I had stayed in the one shaft of light, but he was pointing deep into the darkness.

  I frowned, trying to keep myself relatively calm, and swam through a loose, rotted-away gateway. Curt directed me to a wall. I tried to get a good look at him, but he just gestured to the wall again. This part of the wall didn't look all that different from anything around it. I got closer and ran my fingers over it. There was a subtle ridge covered in sea grime. His glasses must've picked something up. I looked back at him and nodded. He made a motion of reaching and pulling something. I frowned and phased my hands through the wall, the sleeves of my wetsuit drifting bonelessly around in the soft current. After an inch or two, the wood stopped. Curt was right; it was a false wall. I felt around for a moment on the wall itself. There was a latch at the top, and I tugged on it. It took a few minutes, but eventually, I managed to move it enough for the door to fall down. Inside there was a lot of stuff. Curt met up with me and held out my suit's arms so I could get back in easier. Then we looked into the little cubby.

  There was a chest and some jewels and a bottle of wine. Water had gotten into the space, of course, and the wood of the trunk was mostly rotted away. And we didn't have bags. I hadn't known we would be treasure hunting today, much less in a creepy ship full of dead pirates. Curt, realizing the problem, had a portal sweep quickly over the contents of the cubby. He sure does clean house well. Then I frowned. You know, he could be better at actually picking up after himself, given his ability. Our oxygen was dangerously low at this point. We were pretty far from the surface, too; we couldn't safely make it. We started to swim out of the ship, but the light was blocked by something. An enormous shadow passed overhead. We made our way out, only to see a twenty-foot-long shark swimming around. I froze. My heart was pounding. It was so huge and swam with the natural grace of a predator. I had never seen a shark up close like this. It hadn't seemed to see us, thankfully. We started swimming up, passing by it. It swam up to us, and out of instinct, I threw out a hand and shocked it. Whatever I did rebounded around us in the water, causing the shark, Curt, and I to convulse. I couldn't keep up the attack, and Curt grabbed my hand, clenching tightly. Then the world shifted.

  We were somewhere else. We were still in the water, but the pressure wasn't as harsh. The endless expanse of the ocean spread out in front of us. The shark was gone. My stomach was tumbling violently. Still clutching my hand, Curt pulled me up, and we started heading to the surface. Before we got there, our tanks ran out of oxygen. My lungs burned; my muscles clenched. But Curt was there with me. And it was certainly something I didn't want to forget. After swimming up for another minute or so, we broke through the surface and gasped desperately for air. We looked around and found the boat, the man just sitting there, an anchor keeping his craft stable. He got up, putting away his book. "You took longer than you said, Mister Wagner. That'll cost you."

  "That's fine," Curt said breathlessly as he swam up to the boat. The boatman helped me up, and then Curt. We collapsed onto the floor. "That was a hell of a workout."

  "Yeah, no kidding."

  "Where'd you guys go? And what happened to your face?" The boatman asked, gesturing to Curt.

  "Ink. Got sprayed by an octopus." Curt replied, sitting up. "Alright. Know any good restaurants in the area? I'm starving."

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  "Not on the ocean, but we can get you back to town. Provided you have some money for me." The man smirked at him. Curt rolled his eyes and grabbed his shorts, digging out his wallet. He took out a few bills and passed them over. The man counted it; It was just short of two grand. I raised a brow, looking at Curt. He smiled at me. While the man was distracted, I slipped the coin out of my pocket and into my bag. The man seemed satisfied and drove us back to shore. We watched the sunset, cuddling up into one another, the engine's roar comforting me after the eerie silent pressure of the ocean.

  We took the man's suggestion and went to a nice restaurant. We had to dress up a little more, but that was fine. I was a little eager to check to see what kind of treasure we had found, but both Curt and I were positively ravenous, so food would have to be first. We sat down and ordered, but nothing came for a long time. Slowly, all of the guests drifted out of the restaurant. Thirty minutes went by, and we hadn't gotten so much as drinks. I was about to get up and ask what was happening when Curt grabbed my hand. "Don't."

  "Why not?"

  "Look around. Really look." I did so. The waitstaff were all staring at us from behind corners. Some of them looked scared. Guests had been cleared out. Out of a window, I caught sight of a man with a gun strapped to his waist.

  "Someone recognized us."

  "It was bound to happen," Curt said. He started to reach into his sports coat pocket but stopped when he heard someone shout.

  "Freeze! Hands where I can see them!" He held up his hand and glanced over his shoulder. I looked at the cop too. He was an older man in his fifties. A bit of a belly on him. Balding, but he made up for it with a graying mustache.

  "Is there a problem, officer?" I asked, putting on my kindest, most patient smile.

  "Cindi Drei, Curtis Reese. You're under arrest," the man said, four more officers closing in on us. I watched Curt's mind run through the possibilities, trying to decide the best course of action. I wasn't doing the same. I knew what we had to do. I prepared myself.

=== CHUCK ===

Bion had been out of the picture for a while now. And honestly, things were getting pretty demanding without him. Crime hadn't precisely increased. At least not exactly in the way you would expect. Crime doesn't actually increase when you reduce police forces by any tangible degree. And that's what we are, really. Superheroes are just vigilante cops. Heroes are irresponsible and answerable to no one. Esvanir's words played through my head again. It was from an interview I had rewatched. His words were starting to get to me. After meeting with him, talking to him as a person, and not considering him an enemy, even for just that session, I was questioning my role. With Bion out of the picture, at least for the time being, the threats he had taken care of were active again and unrelenting. He had several enemies that were a lot more direct and violent than Reese . . . Drei was.

  We were running ourselves ragged. I had spent the month rounding Bion's enemies up; Kari was doing a lot, too; Jenny and Harold were working overtime constantly. I checked the app that kept me apprised of concerns around the city, and there was a report coming live. I tapped on it and could hear David Thrawn's voice talking over the situation. "It appears as though prominent activist and respected member of the community, Adam, 'Doc Oak' Oakley, is attacking the Bestly manufacturing site outside of town. It appears as though he's gained some form of powers and . . ."

  David trailed off as the camera focused on Oakley. He was a tall, wiry man with a pale green skin tone and was completely nude save for a leaf that covered his genitals. It had not left much to the imagination. A cop car drove at him and stopped. The cop got out and took aim, and just before he could fire on the man, Adam gestured with two fingers. Plants burst from the ground, growing fast and thick. The cop and the car were actually raised from the ground, and for a moment, I thought he might have killed the police officer, but he was still struggling. The drone came down, and we got a good shot of the doctor’s face. He smiled at the camera and gently pushed it to the side as he practically sauntered forward. He wouldn't trap anyone who was running away. He did nothing to stop them.

  "I'm sorry, mates. I was a little distracted there. I just didn't expect him to be so . . . He's quite good-looking, don't you think, Sarah?"

  "I . . . He's a criminal, David," his co-host responded. The smile they had captured of him appeared on the screen. "But he is not bad looking."

  "He certainly has a lot to . . . work with," Thrawn responded, then cleared his throat. "Uh . . . Powers wise. He's quite an effective metahuman, I mean."

  Oakley got to the steps, turned to the camera, and stood tall. His playful smile had been erased by a look of sternness. Despite his pale green flesh, he was still striking. A painting of a perfectly crafted dryad. Vines came and surrounded him, elevating him a few inches off the ground. One of the ends of the vines turned to him, and he looked at it, nodded, and caressed it fondly.

  "I have spoken to Nature, and she is rejecting the right to this company's existence," he spoke softly, but his brown eyes were filled with pain and rage. Something about how he said Nature implied a profound reverence. Maybe he worships Nature, personifying it as a concept, I thought.   "This company steals water from the ecosystem, denying Nature her due. The C.E.O. of Bestly literally would have you and the world as a whole dehydrate, dry out and destroy the world. He has said as much. Letting this continue will not only destroy mankind but do irreparable damage to the planet. This is the start of the revolution. Our plant friends have spoken to me and told me that Nature is sick and tired of your behavior."

  There was a roar of grinding stone; from behind him, rocks shattered and metal crumpled. Vines moved down and slid around metal and cracked the concrete. Water burst forth from somewhere in the factory, soaking the ground. The vines supporting Adam flowered, and he leaned back on colossal petals. He sat on the flower throne and crossed his legs. "This is the beginning. We have to change what we're doing. We will no longer stand by and let these C.E.O.s do whatever they want. Killing people, denying the world what it needs to flourish for some idiotic perpetual growth."

  The drone flew back and caught sight of the factory as a whole. Oakley had destroyed the factory. Water flowed back into the riverbed, slowly overtaking the cracked and dry ground the factory had caused. He isn't hurting anyone. But he's still breaking the law, I thought to myself. Kari would undoubtedly want to stop him. And . . . In the exact way that we can't just let C.E.O.s do whatever they want, we can't let him. I had been resting for a moment. Between my job and picking up for Bion's absence, I had intended to stay in tonight, taking a night for myself. But I couldn't just sit by and do nothing. My clothes shattered around me and were immediately replaced by my superhero costume. I looked around my apartment. I walked forward, opened the window, and crawled onto the fire escape. I launched myself off of the railing and started falling before catching myself and burst forward.

  I flew as fast as I could. All that time patrolling and going around with Kari had sped me up. It took me less than ten minutes to reach the edge of town and maybe another two until the factory was in sight. I landed just ahead of the police barricade; their guns trained on me for a moment. I swept my mental senses over them; their surface thoughts were primed for violence. I walked over to the officer who appeared to be in charge. It was actually the chief of police. "Chief Lassitrahd, what's the situation?"

  "Professor Mind," he said with subtle disgust. He rubbed his face and looked around. "One of your kind is out there, destroying factories. So, we're going to put a stop to it."

  He gestured over to a team of snipers that were setting themselves up. I frowned and shifted. "I might be able to talk him down. It may not come down to something so . . . violent."

  "So violent?" The chief demanded. "He's got a cop trapped in there. He destroyed a factory. He deserves this!"

  "Any casualties?"

  “Casua- . . . No. None confirmed. But we haven't cleared the building yet. There's probably dead in there. He destroyed the factory." I extended my senses. I could feel him and a vague sense of . . . something else. I couldn't identify exactly what it was without deeper probing. There were ten people somewhere in the building. A few closer than others. I didn't need anything more. He had hostages. But strangely, no one seemed that afraid. There was some fear, sure. But much less than should have been in this situation.

  "There are ten people in or around the building, excluding Doctor Oakley," I responded, turning back to the chief, who shook his head, scoffing.

  "You freaks are something else. The powers of God in your hands, and you use it to dress like jackasses and play cop."

  "Well, I'm going to go play God, then. And stop this peacefully." I blasted off the ground, and he stumbled back. I flew over to the building and landed about fifty feet short of it, holding out my hands. Adam was still sitting on the flower, but things had changed since the broadcast. The sight before me was off-putting and downright baffling. There were more huge flowers, and two fully-clothed workers were sitting around him, a lean, beautiful, naked man. There were more people just behind them. I can't let them shoot into that. If they miss, they might hit the civilians. A blonde woman was smiling up at Adam, and he doted on her, producing a flower from somewhere and putting it in her hair. On his other side, a balding, but confident-looking man, held his hand. Adam turned to him and smiled gently at him. Neither of them were scared at all. Nor were the people behind them. They were . . . They're aroused; that's really strange. Maybe some kind of brainwashing? I walked forward, and something hit my nose. A flowery scent filled the air and blew out from him. My mind felt a little muddled from it. I wasn't hit with arousal, but I didn't really feel like fighting. I tried to kick my brain back into action, but it was difficult. I stepped forward. "Doctor Oakley."

  "Doc Oak, please," he said, turning to me. The group of people switched their focus too. Their pupils were dilated. They were high. What had he done to them? His eyes were also dilated. He smiled at me; his eyes crawled over me for a moment. I shifted under his gaze. "Or Adam. How can I help you, Professor Mind?"

  "I . . ." I began, unsure of myself. He wasn't being violent; he didn't seem dangerous. "I'm here to try and talk you into surrendering. Letting these nice people go."

  "They are, aren't they?" He said, returning his attention to the two around him. He patted the cheek of the man and held out his hand for the woman, who promptly took it. "They're not bad people. I'm not going to hurt them, Professor. But I also can't surrender. I suppose I can let them go, though. Provided the cops out there don't shoot them. My friends tell me that they're gearing up. About to snipe me."

  "Your friends. The plants. You think you can talk to the plants?"

  "Is that so strange?"

  "I'd say so. I don't think any plants have ever said anything to me."

  "You don't know how to listen. And that's okay. For a long time, I didn't either. But I learned. I could help you learn to hear them if you want."

  "I . . ."

  "You think I'm crazy. That I'm hearing voices. That plants can't talk."

  "According to my understanding of the matter, yeah."

  "Aren't you a psychic?"

  "What? Well, yes."

  "Many people would consider that to be something impossible. If it were not so evident that you could do it, don't you think people might treat you like you're treating me, Professor?" His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. Something underneath. Underneath the dampening effect of whatever he'd taken, whatever he'd given them, under his cool-as-a-cucumber demeanor, he was annoyed. No, it's more than that. He's angry.   "Even if I am crazy for that reason, for listening to the plants, stopping these monstrous factories is more important than my possible insanity."

  "Let's start small," I said, lifting placating hands. "Let's let the hostages go, and then I can see what we can do."

  "Hostages!?" Rage flared off of him, and he sat forward. "These people are not hostages. They are free to leave at any point." He turned to them and smiled softly. "My friends, go. I have the feeling this is about to devolve, and I'd rather not have you caught in the crossfire." The blonde woman who was sitting next to him took a pen from her pocket and grabbed his hand. He let her, watching her patiently scrawl something on it. He looked at it and smiled at her. The man on his other side handed him a card and smiled. All ten people walked away slowly, with those two glancing back. Reluctance, desire, regret. Those were the emotions I could sense in them. This situation was so bizarre.

  "The cop too." He nodded and waved his hand. The cop car and the officer were gently lowered to the ground. The man got up and looked around. He retrieved his gun in a shaking hand and started to raise it, fear radiating off of him. He hadn't been affected by whatever drug was around. Something to note. Adam glared at him, and the cop's gun fell to his side. He backed away before turning to run, leaving the car behind.   "Okay. Thank you. Now, if you'd come with me, we ca-"

  "No," he cut me off. "We can't. And I won't."

  "Why?" I asked. "You don't want to hurt anyone. What's the point of this?"

  "I haven't done anything wrong. I am righting a wrong." He stood up and stretched, walking down the steps. He's like Reese. Well, no, not exactly. He's in control of his anger, not ranting and raving. I thought. Then again, there was a time when Curt was like that too. Before . . . I stopped the thought. Adam stood in front of me. "You should leave too, Professor. I really am getting the feeling that it's about to get fairly violent. And despite your condescension, you've been kind. Which is more than I can say for most of your . . . our kind."

  "I . . . I can't do that. I need to bring you in. You . . ."

  "Need help? I'm not unwell, Professor. I'm perfectly healthy."

  "But . . . look at you. What happened to you?"

  "I wanted to be closer to Nature, and I found a way to be." He met my eyes. "And if it's your intention to take that away from me, then I'm afraid that's something I can't abide by."

  "What if I took you in peacefully, and we see if we can't find a compromise? I . . . I don't think fighting you is going to accomplish anything. You've been so rea-" I cut myself off as he buckled over and growled in pain, clenching his fists. Rage boiled off of him. And there was more panic coming from behind. One of the cops from behind had thrown a cigarette down on the ground and had caught some dry grass on fire. They were trying to stomp it out but had limited success. There was also the cold determination off in the distance. Some ridge where a sniper was positioned. I could feel his sight on us.

  "This is the problem, Professor!" He shouted, letting his voice echo throughout the valley. "Even when they're not actively trying to, they're so callous to the environment, casually destroying it. Human apathy is almost as dangerous as their continuous antipathy toward Nature. She will not allow this to continue, and as her champion, one of the few who can hear her voice, I will not either."