More like face-plated, I said to myself as I dropped my own fork and stood up from the table.
I stared at her for a moment in absolute disgust. I now understood why I’d practically passed out the past two nights: Electra had been drugging me.
How does it feel to get a taste of your own medicine? I thought.
Of course, it had been the older version of myself who had tipped me off. He had mentioned “takeout” – specifically, not wanting any – and just a few hours later, Electra brought me takeout. It had seemed too spot-on to be mere coincidence. Thus, when I had asked why it was so important that I eat, I had telepathically peeked inside Electra’s mind.
Unlike a lot of other telepaths, I can’t do a deep dive into another person’s brain and root out any info I want. I can only see surface thoughts and what they willingly want to share. The good news, however, is that when you ask someone a question, the answer usually comes to the fore of their mind – even if they verbally lie about it. In this instance, I saw what Electra had planned for me. Ergo, after I shifted to super speed, rather than go to the bathroom, I had instead switched plates. Result: one knocked-out ex-girlfriend.
Despite having figured out what she was planning, I was still in the dark on a lot of things – like why she was drugging me in the first place. Was this even the real Electra? From all indications, it was, which made her actions all the more confusing. Somehow, though, I knew it all related to Mouse. I needed answers, and there was only one place I thought I could get them.
With that in mind, I was about to teleport when I took one last look at Electra. She was still face down in the plate but from what I could see, she appeared to be breathing, so – in my estimation – she wasn’t in danger. Still, it seemed kind of insensitive to leave her like that.
Shaking my head at what I was about to do, I reached out and – against my better judgment – pulled Electra’s face out of the plate. I then leaned her head gently back, making sure that she was positioned in a way that made it least likely that she’d fall out of the chair.
Satisfied that I had gone above and beyond the call of duty, I then teleported.
Chapter 55
I popped up in Mouse’s lab. As was typically the case, the lights came on a few seconds after I appeared.
I spent a moment looking around. This was the last place Mouse had been seen before allegedly going rogue. This was where he’d left clues for me on his computer. This was the spot where he’d left his bug-out bag (and leaving it implied that he was somewhere close by).
All roads lead to Rome, I said to myself.
Now that I was here, however, I was at a loss with respect to what I was supposed to do. Was Mouse maybe watching or listening in some way? Sure hadn’t seemed like it when Electra and I were in here shouting for him. Of course, in hindsight, I had been wrong to trust Electra or have her with me.
Hmmm, I droned mentally. Did Mouse know that Electra couldn’t be trusted? It sure seemed that way. After all, he’d essentially left clues only for me, rigged the computer to only turn on for me, and so on. Everything was solely for me – or hinged on me being by myself.
At that juncture, an idea occurred to me. It probably wouldn’t pay any dividends, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt.
Feeling a little foolish, I said out loud, “Mouse, I found your clues. I’m here like you wanted.”
I wasn’t sure what else to say, so I just stood there quietly waiting. After about a minute, I was ready to give up. This had been my best guess, and it turned out I was wrong. Apparently I needed to go back to the drawing board.
Feeling exasperated, I wiped my face with my hand as I prepared to teleport. At that moment, however, I heard someone speak.
“You certainly took your time,” said a familiar voice.
It had come from behind me, and I swiftly spun around to find myself facing the speaker.
Mouse.
Chapter 56
He was dressed as he’d been the last few times I’d seen him – in his Alpha League uniform. Unsurprisingly, he had his computer tablet tucked under one arm; he rarely went anywhere without it. It looked like there were bags forming under his eyes, giving the impression that he was tired, but otherwise he didn’t look too bad for a guy who had taken on the world’s premier team of supers several times in the last few days.
“You’ve been busy these past few days,” I remarked.
“I think the same could be said of you,” he replied. “A lot of people, in fact.”
“Well, the League has been suffering a continuous string of attacks,” I said.
“Is that a fact?” he intoned with something of a cocksure grin.
I frowned. This conversation was kind of odd. Normally Mouse and I quickly fell into an easy banter, maintaining the ability to joke with each other even when the topic being discussed was serious. Our current exchange felt stiff and formal, like Mouse was somehow wary. In fact, reaching out emphatically, that’s exactly what I picked up from him: a certain watchfulness – as if he felt the need to be
