metabands himself, but his knowledge of how they work exceeds that of anyone I've ever heard about. That includes the forum junkies that Derrick keeps me apprised of. I ask Midnight how he knows so much about the metabands, but he ignores the question entirely. I'm not surprised.
He tells me that I'm lucky. My bands seem to have some sort of built-in protection mechanism that he hasn't seen before. Most metas with superhuman strength and the ability to protect and repair their bodies have to concentrate on doing so. I don't. It's like that ability is on auto-pilot.
According to Midnight, my bands look identical to the first wave versions the world saw all those years ago, but there's no way to know for sure if there isn't something different about these ones. Of course, it could also just be how I'm wired, he says. There could be something about my brain, and how it interfaces with these bands, that just works. The way sometimes a person is just a natural, that might be me, at least in regard to the strength/protection ability. Certainly not flying, as the increasingly deeper dent in Midnight's ceiling attests to.
After a couple of hours of this, it's obvious that I'm not going to get it tonight. It's late and I haven't had an actual good night's sleep in two days now. Midnight tells me that learning to control my abilities while I'm exhausted is important. Maybe the most important. I'm nodding off as he tells me this of course. I can't stop thinking about my bed. Warm and soft. Quiet and cozy. There's literally no place on Earth that I'd rather be right now, than lying in that bed. I want to be there so badly that it starts to feel like I actually am in my bed.
Now I am in my bed. It's just as warm and cozy as I'd imagined it. I don't know how I got here, but I've never been so glad to be in it I think as I drift off to sleep.
I wake up the next morning and cannot for the life of me figure out how I got here. I remember being at Midnight's and just being so, so tired. The next thing I remember is being here. So this means I can teleport now too? If learning just how to hover seemed difficult, I can't even begin to understand how it is that I was able to teleport.
Midnight's not going to be happy about this, I have a feeling. I still don't know how to get to his headquarters, or lair, or whatever it is, since he took me there while I was knocked unconscious.
I stumble into the kitchen, where Derrick is so engrossed in whatever is on his laptop screen, that he doesn't notice he's dripping half of his cereal and milk onto the kitchen table as he shovels it into his mouth.
"Good morning," I say as I find my way to the cabinet and look for the cereal box.
Derrick barely grunts back.
"More metahuman happenings?" I ask, not even thinking about last night. What if someone saw what happened? I was careful, I had a ski mask on the whole time, but still. What if it came off when Midnight was beating me half to death and I didn't notice?
Nah. He's more careful than that. Right?
"Eh. Nothing conclusive. Lots of people on the boards saying they saw things, but no one grabbed a picture or video? Give me a break," Derrick says.
I haven't noticed that my right hand is shaking so hard that I'm missing the bowl I'm pouring my cereal into. I don't know why this is making me so nervous. What did I expect Derrick to say? "Oh yeah, here's a picture of you flying above the city on the front page of today's newspaper, by the way..." If I'm going to do this whole secret identity thing, I've got to start getting a little bit better of a grip on my own emotions.
"Heh, yeah. Sounds like they've got too much time on their hands. Speaking of which, are you working from home today? I thought you'd said there was a meeting you had to go in for?" I ask Derrick.
"Crap!" he exclaims. "I'm late!" Derrick grabs another mouthful of cereal, again most of it doesn't make it to
He tells me that I'm lucky. My bands seem to have some sort of built-in protection mechanism that he hasn't seen before. Most metas with superhuman strength and the ability to protect and repair their bodies have to concentrate on doing so. I don't. It's like that ability is on auto-pilot.
According to Midnight, my bands look identical to the first wave versions the world saw all those years ago, but there's no way to know for sure if there isn't something different about these ones. Of course, it could also just be how I'm wired, he says. There could be something about my brain, and how it interfaces with these bands, that just works. The way sometimes a person is just a natural, that might be me, at least in regard to the strength/protection ability. Certainly not flying, as the increasingly deeper dent in Midnight's ceiling attests to.
After a couple of hours of this, it's obvious that I'm not going to get it tonight. It's late and I haven't had an actual good night's sleep in two days now. Midnight tells me that learning to control my abilities while I'm exhausted is important. Maybe the most important. I'm nodding off as he tells me this of course. I can't stop thinking about my bed. Warm and soft. Quiet and cozy. There's literally no place on Earth that I'd rather be right now, than lying in that bed. I want to be there so badly that it starts to feel like I actually am in my bed.
Now I am in my bed. It's just as warm and cozy as I'd imagined it. I don't know how I got here, but I've never been so glad to be in it I think as I drift off to sleep.
I wake up the next morning and cannot for the life of me figure out how I got here. I remember being at Midnight's and just being so, so tired. The next thing I remember is being here. So this means I can teleport now too? If learning just how to hover seemed difficult, I can't even begin to understand how it is that I was able to teleport.
Midnight's not going to be happy about this, I have a feeling. I still don't know how to get to his headquarters, or lair, or whatever it is, since he took me there while I was knocked unconscious.
I stumble into the kitchen, where Derrick is so engrossed in whatever is on his laptop screen, that he doesn't notice he's dripping half of his cereal and milk onto the kitchen table as he shovels it into his mouth.
"Good morning," I say as I find my way to the cabinet and look for the cereal box.
Derrick barely grunts back.
"More metahuman happenings?" I ask, not even thinking about last night. What if someone saw what happened? I was careful, I had a ski mask on the whole time, but still. What if it came off when Midnight was beating me half to death and I didn't notice?
Nah. He's more careful than that. Right?
"Eh. Nothing conclusive. Lots of people on the boards saying they saw things, but no one grabbed a picture or video? Give me a break," Derrick says.
I haven't noticed that my right hand is shaking so hard that I'm missing the bowl I'm pouring my cereal into. I don't know why this is making me so nervous. What did I expect Derrick to say? "Oh yeah, here's a picture of you flying above the city on the front page of today's newspaper, by the way..." If I'm going to do this whole secret identity thing, I've got to start getting a little bit better of a grip on my own emotions.
"Heh, yeah. Sounds like they've got too much time on their hands. Speaking of which, are you working from home today? I thought you'd said there was a meeting you had to go in for?" I ask Derrick.
"Crap!" he exclaims. "I'm late!" Derrick grabs another mouthful of cereal, again most of it doesn't make it to
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