Elena Romero was born on the 1st of October, 1989. Elena's superpower, she had discovered, was not keeping her dysfunctional family together. It was, in fact, keeping herself together. She could miraculously heal all of her injuries. All except one...
"This is going to fail." "It's not going to fail!" "Viva la fucking resistance..."
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
"Attention all commission supervisors," the tannoy announcement sounded, "Please rapport to the main foyer."
Herb hadn't seen Elena in a number of days. And days in the commission could be months, or even years, in the real world. And the infinite switchboard was of no help. He had no idea where she was, what she was doing, or how long she had been gone. And he was growing worried.
The Handler was up to something. Up to something bad, he was sure of it. But what? It was getting worse, whatever it was she was doing, he could tell. He just knew this announcement had something to do with her.
And he was right. He gathered in the foyer along with everyone else, and there she was, standing on the stairs, in a pink wig, holding a megaphone and tapping her shoe loudly as everyone filed in around her.
Dot was there too. Herb smiled at her nervously from across the room. She gave him a similar look back. They both knew it. None of this was good.
"Hi," the Handler said, speaking into the megaphone, which came out in a garbled crackle, "I am heartbroken to be sharing this devastating news," she continued as if the megaphone were working correctly.
"All twelve members of our board," she took a pause to take a trembled deep breath in. Jesus she was dramatic, Herb thought. Jesus? When did he use the word Jesus? Elena's language must be rubbing off on him.
"Have been assassinated." The Handler said, an exaggerated sadness on her face that made Herb want to gag despite the unnerving news. The board was all gone. That was bad news. Very bad news.
"A full investigation is underway," The Handler continued once the murmurs and gasps had died down. "We will catch the culprits who did this dastardly deed and in the meantime grief counseling is available to those that need it but it is not covered by our insurance provider as it is technically considered an out-of-office-service."
Herb caught Dot's eye from the other side of the room. She thought something was up here too, Herb could tell. But what? What was the Handler up to?
"In the absence of any living board members," she continued, "It is my solemn duty to assume control of the commission."
"How is she in charge?" Herb said involuntarily aloud, but those who heard him nodded in agreement. The Handler had been demoted. What was her plan? What was she up to?
"The briefcase room will be temporarily closed," the Handler continued as if she couldn't hear the murmurs against her, which only intensified upon her last comment. "Any questions?"
A number of hands went up, including Herb's, but the Handler, once again, pretended she did not notice those either.
"Good." She said and clicked off the megaphone, leaving the group of supervisors alone and unsure in the foyer she had summoned them to.
