Super Love

Uno

8928 West Birch Street.

Swift Justice.

I sighed and breathed a ragged breath as I saw the weathered sign hanging above the door of the exclusive nightclub that my elusive target was rumored to haunt. My fingers strayed to and clasped around my golden locket which held a picture of the ones I protected; the ones that only I was strong enough to protect. I flipped my curly, black hair over my shoulder as I hid in the alleyway that lay a few structures down from the club. My fingers, unbeknown to me, went out to touch the graffiti that ran down the entire length of my shallow hiding place. Electricity ran through my veins as I used my powers to begin the transformation of my appearance. My eyes dilated as they turned from an icy blue into a dull yet dangerous brown hue. My hair slowly lost its curl as it straightened and shortened as the blue that once belonged to my eyes enveloped the lower few inches. I turned my eyes upwards towards the sky as my view subtly became lower and lower until I rested a few inches below my natural height. I looked down at my locket, but more specifically, at my fingers as darkened tendrils ran up them until they met, and my entire body had darkened. The one thing that remained unchanged was my brain as it ran rampant with worries and possible outcomes of my mission as well as a small portion devoted to the controlling of my powers, a part that I scarcely felt anymore.

I took one look at my other hand that still resting on the graffiti. The violent, rebellious red and the joyous blasts of blue cautiously met to form purple, neither good nor bad. Both were as needed in the final artwork as the other. My lips slightly twitched upwards in an attempted grin, however, they turned course and instead settled into a grimace; a facial expression quite common among my colleagues.

After another hefty sigh, I ran my hands over my dress in a vain attempt to smoothen out the wrinkles that only I seemed to see. The dress was far shorter than what I was accustomed to, however, my boss, Brainshe, deemed it necessary to be worn on my mission. The black, shimmery dress hardly fell halfway down my thighs and the plunging neckline certainly did not help matters. I understood Brainshe's urgings towards the dress though as I could not possibly just march into a club infested with Superheroes in my usual attire without them immediately calling in more reinforcements to deal with the strongest Villain that they had ever faced. I could easily take on a few Heroes, but the second the Superheroes called in their not-so-secret weapon and my only rival in power, Fortitude, my mission was as good as failed and if I did not ide at the Heroes hands, it would be at Brainshe's.

I wanted to stall a little longer before I had to go inside. The second I entered the building, I was no longer me. I was a marionette; a puppet in Brainshe's plan where my feelings and comfort were not a factor. Everything is a game of survival; the leading people are truly just the best liars in the villainous line of work.

My earpiece sputtered, startling me, and then a growling, somewhat abhorrent voice came through, jolting me from my ridiculous and dangerous thoughts, "Drastia!"

"Sorry Sir, I was waiting for my appearance to change before I called back in to headquarters," I spoke clearly and deliberately, however, strained as I attempted to keep my voice even after my mind had wandered, a mistake that could cost me dearly, "What is your command, Brainshe?"

He growled lowly and I momentarily wondered if he had changed forms before his voice rang out in a sharp, distinct, and powerful manner, "I am a bit worried that you seem to be failing your mission, Drastia. Last time I reviewed the mission plans, that both you and I spent hours penning, it was understood that you would have entered the premises over three minutes ago. Is there a holdup of some kind or are you deciding to test how quickly I can have you killed and replaced?"