Super•Villainous

XXVI

After an incident involving a large bird of prey where Tempest nearly dropped from a hundred feet in the sky, we managed to arrive at the Guildhall unscathed. He insisted all the way up the stone steps leading towards a building that could have been mistaken for a gothic cathedral that such an occurrence had never happened before, with or without a passenger, and that him losing his grip on me "for half a second" — I counted at least three — reflected less on his Super skills and more on my shoddy luck.

"You're a bad luck charm," he said matter of factly as he held open the thick wood door for me to enter, as though any gentlemanly action could diminish his very ungentlemanly words. "A jinx."

"Am not!" I sniped, still sour over the whole thing, and in great danger of throwing up all over his shoes. It would serve him right for what he'd put me through. I would have more than happily taken a cab to the Guildhall.

"I swear this to you with all the sincerity in my heart," he pressed his palm over his breast, "you have the worst luck of any person I have ever met. Ever will meet, too, probably. You should be wrapped in a thick layer of bubble wrap at all times and forbidden from getting within a hundred feet of heavy machinery."

"How kind of you to ensure I don't walk through life with any misconceptions about my own miserable destiny," I deadpanned, striding past him into a grand circuitous hall. My steps echoed loudly in the nearly empty space, save for two bored looking men in Super regalia near the doors — the security — and a vacant service counter against the left-hand wall. "Where is everybody?"

"Returning from the same press conference we just fled. They'll be along soon," he said. "Want a tour?"

"Uh, obviously," I replied, and took his offered elbow, a mockery of regency gentleman escorting a high-bred lady about town.

I'd been walking by this building my whole life; how could I pass up a chance to see every last speck of dust littering the inside?

"These are the kitchens and the dining hall. The library and the meeting room are on the second floor. The fourth floor is restricted to the Guild Elders, unfortunately." He pointed out a series of doors as we passed them, some open, some closed. "Up those stairs on the third floor are the dormitories, for people on call or who choose to stay here full time."

"Do you live here?" I asked, not caring if I was perhaps being nosey of his private affairs.

He appeared to consider the question, watching me with a critical eye to determine how much damage I could do with the information. Finally, he divulged, "I do, actually. It's a nightmare like you wouldn't believe trying to find a place with reasonable rent in this city. Don't you try to sneak around and discover my identity while I'm sleeping, though. This place is locked up tight at night."

I rolled my eyes. "Like I'd bother."

Drats. Foiled again in my quest for quick tabloid wealth.

Tempest leaned in close to indicate a window over my shoulder, overviewing outside where I could make out a low-cut grassy field, a pool as large as any I'd ever seen, and several straw practice dummies in varying states of annihilation. "That's the practice field, where we, you know, practice."

"You have a way with words, don't you?"

His resulting laughter buoyed my mood from that traumatizing flight over.

"There's another training ground below ground level, as well, to simulate combat in enclosed spaces. It's right next to the filing room, where I suspect you'll probably doing most of your internship stuff. Paperwork stacks up around here like you wouldn't believe."