The Undoing Of Villains | ✓

six

six

HALL FOUR was empty save for some supposedly crazy expensive paintings mounted on its walls. More of a cavern than a room, the sound of my footsteps echoed ominously the moment I stepped inside. The hall carried the same dry, stale museum-like scent as the rest of the gallery, only now it wasn't mixed with a million different perfumes. 

At the far end was an emergency exit, presumably the one through which Xandra had smuggled her whatever-it-was. Expensive art, something I would never understand. She'd probably sell it and build another fleet of freaky robots to do her bidding. 

Once again - you really picked the jackpot on shady crime bosses.

To be honest, I was expecting a bit more of a nervous vibe, considering I was about to hand the city's 'best' (insert scoff here) hero his ass on a platter. I had already kicked some low villain's behind so I had at least one notch in my belt, but something told me Vector was in a different league. 

His powers, like mine, weren't crystal clear. Whereas I had the strange ability to manipulate the energy running through the body (say, like the impulses sent through your brain to your arm when you lift something.) Vector had the ability to move force fields.

A vector, in its scientific definition, is a quantity with direction and magnitude. I supposed this was what he was nicknamed after, considering he could create forcefields and shoot them all over the place. The only thing that set his powers apart from mine (save for their more obvious differences) was his ability to handle them with a bit more .. finesse. 

This is the way to go. Psych yourself down before a fight. Good going!

Good thing another set of steps, considerably heavier than mine had been, entered the hall at that moment. If they hadn't arrived, the stars know what would've become of my train of thought. 

I turned toward the hall's entrance. At that moment, it truly felt like an arena. The only thing between the entrance and exit was the large, flat floor of the hall - designed for massive, lingering crowds to appreciate art. Not whatever was going to happen. Certainly not a fight.

But at this moment it didn't matter. Vector had stepped inside. Trepidation slithered along my spine, and a light sweat broke out. I'd seen him in the news. In articles, newspaper clippings, features - hell, I think I'd even seen him as a plush toy in a gift shop once. It didn't own up to the superhero standing in front of me. 

Even from a distance, his drilling gaze cut me. He was dressed in all his hero finery. No cape, I noticed, only the slim, black suit. There were protective pads - presumably hard ones to prevent direct punches - all over his chest and legs. The only thing breaking up the monotone color palette was the metal - he had a glinting, light metal woven into the suit, not enough so it would give him away in case of camouflage, but enough to make the entire suit seem like a weapon in its own right, instead of the man wearing it. 

He hadn't yet spoken, but then again, neither had I, so a blanket of silence coated the tension, like a fine layer of dust. His eyes, dark enough I was sure I would see my own reflection if I ever stared closely into them, were still pinning me with a sharp glare. 

The rest of his features were hidden beneath his mask. It covered the upper half of his face and all of his scalp, hiding whatever kind of hair he had. For some reason I imagined it to be silky.