Twenty Seven #2
Five minutes later, I wait by the tank in Golden Ace’s secret headquarters.
The tank is in-ground—in-building—with serious depth.
Not wanting to soak more clothing than necessary, I have on only my leggings and a purple sports bra that makes me quite self-conscious.
Thankfully, D.S. stays focused on his laptop.
He stationed himself on a wooden bench beside the water.
Most of the benches and worktables at headquarters are wood—maybe he needs them to be because of his electric powers—to stop electricity.
“The tank is for testing things. I needed something deep enough for a pressure change,” he explains.
“You made this?” I’d assumed Golden Ace had, or that the water had come with the floor plan.
Dark Static clicks his tongue. “Such little faith in me. Now, imagine different situations with water and we’ll see what happens. That’s how I tested my powers, just imagining. Start outside the tank. We know you can use your powers without being in water. Let’s control for that variable first.”
I fidget with the ends of my braid, itching to investigate my powers. Finally, I’m doing this.
I stare at the smooth surface, concentrating hard.
I’m calm, even as D.S. whispers, “Go get ‘em, Mads.” Suddenly, a thick geyser erupts from the tank.
Serious water plunges over us like a fierce ocean wave, knocking me off my feet, and a zap surges nearby.
I turn to find Dark Static crouching beside his station.
The cascading geyser settles and puddles on the ground as soon as my attention leaves it.
Fortunately, when Golden Ace designed this room, he built it with a concrete floor and a drain—perhaps for situations just like this—and the floors below won’t have any water damage. A geyser sprouted inside a random skyscraper. What other secrets does Capital City have?
“Can make fountains and tidal waves with water,” D.S. says. “Check.”
“What was that noise?” I ask. “Did I ruin your computer?”
“Nope, we’re good.” He rubs his neck. “I get zapped when a ton of water hits me. It’s fine, just stings a bit. It’s much worse when I’m not ready for it.”
A hazard of having electrical powers. I didn’t notice that during the rain at Hallowfest, but a drizzle is nothing compared to a geyser.
My muscles ache from using my powers, but I take a breath and a moment later, the puddle mops itself up, though the tank remains still. Fluid relief seeps through my arms and legs, as if I absorbed the water.
“Hydro-absorption. Check,” says D.S.
“What about water vapor?” I ask. “I can do something with that.” The two times I exploded my surroundings was because I used something in the air—Arielle called it supercharging.
“Vapor would be a lot harder,” D.S. muses. “H 2 O is the fourth most prevalent gas in the atmosphere. If you can manipulate water as a liquid and as a gas… the possibilities are endless.”
I extend my arms, brace myself, and count down. I’m not sure what to imagine other than smoke curling off a pile of concrete rubble.
Three…
Two…
Two and a half…
One and three quarters…
One…
Nothing.
“Maybe not water vapor,” I concede. “But, in my dad’s old kitchen, I made water from the sink pipes hot enough to explode… I thought that was manipulating the vapor?”
“Ah,” says D.S. “That was water pressure.”
What? “Sorry, I must have skipped that day in physics.”
He chuckles. “It’s more of a chemistry thing. Alright, stay with me. Liquid water can never get hotter than 100 degrees Celsius, right? Because then it will turn to steam and evaporate. Steam’s a gas and wants to expand, trying to fill whatever space it’s in.”
“Yeah…”
“But if you trap the steam—If it can’t escape—you can get it crazy hot. Superheating.
“And that changes its pressure?”
“Exactly. If you can contain the water vapor and saturate it—heat it—then extra energy can cause it to accidentally pass its boiling point. Its temperature increases, and the steam has nowhere to go as it tries to find a new equilibrium, so the pressure builds. Eventually, the container can’t hold it anymore. ”
BOOM.
As D.S. rambled off facts, I concentrated on the water bottle on his table, next to the computer. Energy seared through my blood, and suddenly his entire bench is scorched.
“Atta girl,” says D.S., but I barely hear him over the sound of heavy shattering. A black, charred circle marks where his laptop used to be, burnt microchips and ashes.
“Hydro-telekinesis.” He sounds impressed over the fact that I’ve disintegrated a solid object. Well, I disintegrated the water source next to a solid object. The laptop was collateral damage.
Hold on.
I approach the tank and tentatively step on the surface. If I can move water, can I… I take a step. The water under my foot pressurizes, keeping my foot from falling in. I take my other foot off the ground, until I’m walking across the surface.
No way. “Think I can turn water into wine?” I ask D.S., joking and amazed. Every action with a power is like a miracle.
“You’d have to account for gravity and other forces, but maybe.”
I gawk back. “Wow, Static, didn’t peg you for such a nerd.”
“I’ve been reading a lot of science textbooks,” he admits. “To understand how someone’s water powers have exploded things.
“Right,” I say. And my first instinct had been to read comic books. I wince as my energy drains farther, and the room’s edges blur. “Not sure how much longer I can do this.”
D.S. gestures to the well. “If you’re in the water, that might help. We’ll test those powers too.”
“Uh, huh. Promise there aren’t sharks in there?”
“I’d kill to see you fight a shark. Epic.”
Sighing, I let myself fall in the well. The water feels much colder than a pool, and I can’t touch any sort of floor. D.S. didn’t exaggerate the depth at all. Still, my skin soaks up liquid like an orchid in a desert, delicate and badass all at once.
~
In the next hour, I figure out the following about my superpowers: if I’m surrounded by water, I’m almost invincible.
I can swim fast enough to dodge D.S.’s lightning bolts.
I can heal myself and I can move the surrounding liquid to both shield and attack.
On land, I’m in a lot more trouble. While I can still use water to heal, shield, and attack, including summoning rain clouds, it uses more energy than my body can feasibly spare.
I don’t seem to require an outside source of water to use my powers, but having one helps.
“You’re going to need a Supersuit that keeps you hydrated,” Dark Static says when I climb out of the tank. He hands me his jacket to prevent hypothermia, and I zip it tight. “Or you’ll have to walk around wearing a kiddie pool. That could be fun. You could put piranhas in it.”
I shoot him an exasperated look. “I wish we had brought snacks. Too bad someone hid all of Capital City’s food.”
D.S. sighs. “I deserve that.” He leads me back over to his fridge and passes me some more water bottles. This dude needs to think more about the environment. Plastic bottles are the enemy of fish and oceans and basically the entire biosphere.
“We’ve got to talk about limitations,” he says while I hydrate. “I should have told you from the beginning, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you. Now, this is critical.”
“That doesn’t sound ominous at all,” I joke. “Like weaknesses?”
“Not exactly. Weaknesses diminish your powers. Limitations are your boundaries. No Super can do everything. We all have our individual limits, like I can use my powers to fly but you can’t, or Golden Ace has super strength but we don’t. But there are three limitations that all Supers share. Ready?”
He taps his foot, waiting for a response. Yes, I nod.
Classically, Dark Static holds up a gloved finger. “First, powers won’t make you immortal. Superhuman doesn’t mean you can cheat death; we have a single shot at life, just like everyone else.”
I shudder, imagining that some new Supers would get cocky with their powers and forget that—no matter what—they’re still human.
“Second,” he continues, “there’s no power that can bring someone back from the dead.”
Try not to die, noted. “What’s the third?”
“Supers can only use one power at a time.”
No. What? Have I tried more than one power at once yet? No. Except… I remember the first picture I saw of Dark Static, the graffiti of him in the air and shooting lasers at Golden Ace.
“I’ve seen you fly and shoot lasers,” I say.
“Kind of. I stop using my flight powers when I fire the lasers. I had to get good enough at flying that I could let myself freefall for milliseconds at a time, while I use my other powers.”
“So, you cheat.”
“Yes.” He grins. “And you should too.”
I am never flying with him again.
“It takes energy to control them…” I reflect on the past hour. “And I need water to activate mine. Is that a limitation?”
“ That, ” he drums on the table for effect. “Is a cost. Powers require energy and stamina. Using them is physically and emotionally draining. They take different parts from all of us.”
Interesting . Things are starting to make sense.
Except…
Arielle said that Phil’s powers are cut off if his reflection is caught in a mirror. That doesn’t seem quite like a cost or limitation. She also said not to tell anyone about Phil’s powers. Can I trust D.S.?
“You seem upset,” he says, angling closer.
“Um,” I start. Screw it. “Arielle told me that Phil…” And I tell him.
Dark Static nods along, unsurprised. “That fills some things in. Yikes. And yes, what you’re describing is a weakness, or a specific circumstance that diminishes your powers. It’s usually related to the event where you gained your powers, and it’s something you never want to be discovered.”
“Why would Phil’s weakness be a mirror?”
D.S. pauses, considering. “We can’t say without knowing what his event was. The adversity he got powers from.”
“Wait, so weaknesses are psychological?”