Diploid

penetralia | shocker

Bobby King was on the verge of collapse. The girl clinging to his cheeks was not helping. Her fingers clawed at the edges of his mask, scrabbling to remove it. Catching the flash of a camera in his peripheral, the super flinched. He wormed a hand between himself and Indirah, pushing at her chest awkwardly with a gloved hand. With the other, the man tried to summon up as much electricity as he could to blow her away.

The air crackled with energy and the hero stifled an expletive as the copper skinned villainess felt it and spun, ducking away before he could release a surge. Still, a tendril of the lightning from his fingertips nicked her. The discharge of energy left him feeling hollow and his legs nearly gave out on him.

Immediately, he forced himself to recharge.

Bobby could tell that he wasn’t getting enough oomph into his attacks anymore, so he settled for a staggered barrage - keeping the younger girl busy ducking and dodging. His tongue was thick and his mouth dry. A pun came to mind, but he shook it away, too busy concentrating on discharging what little electricity he could muster.

Indirah’s skin hardened to copper once more and Bobby swore internally. His hands crackled as he forced a full charge. Breathing heavily, he recalled the pun that had come to him earlier. Swallowing hard, he exclaimed, “You’re toast!” and let go.

He probably should have known that he was screwed when the girl didn’t dodge.

The blue lightning lit across her skin, arching and leaping in stark contrast to her copper frame. Slowly, it calmed, darting across her shoulders and upper arms before disappearing entirely. A smirk curled across her deceptively pretty features. “Thanks for that.”

This time, Bobby’s mental exclamation slipped out and he swore audibly.

Indirah dove at him, hand outstretched, and he quickly tried to jerk out of the way. At least he knew where she was aiming for. She seemed to have this stupid obsession with getting his mask off. Catching her arm as she fell past him, he jerked her around and slammed her to the ground, knee to her sternum. He flinched slightly as her arm twisted a touch too far.

Dragging in deep, rattling breaths, the super flicked out his left hand, letting it crackle with a fresh surge of energy.

“Tired?” The girl asked from beneath his grip. Her lazy smile and incessant jabs were getting on his nerves.

Growling slightly, Bobby blew a curl of hair out of the way. “I’m fine,” he snapped. “All these electricity puns. . . my head hertz.” It was a lame excuse and he could tell that she knew it.

Indirah winced as he tightened his grip on her twisted arm. “Now that you’ve got me,” she drawled, “aren’t you going to question me about my motives?”

Just what he needed, a monologuing Indirah Kaye. “You’re a villain. That’s all I need to know.”

She gaped at him and he nearly rolled his eyes. Of course. She thought that she was innocent. Six heroes had been demasked thanks to her. They had been friends, comrades in tights, so to speak. With their maskless faces plastered across newspapers city-wide, it wasn’t a surprise that most of them had disappeared. A hero’s mask was what kept their identity safe. It allowed them to live without having to look over their shoulders constantly. If it wasn’t for the mask. . . well. . .Alexandre Bisset could tell you about that. He was one of Indirah’s first superhero victims. Formerly known to the public as The Frog, Alex had tried to continue his masquerading crusade against crime after publicized. In response, a local hothead named Tecton had snapped his fingers in a fight and dropped Bisset’s wife, child, and pet poodle down a fissure with the hero’s house and car.