Chapter 110 (1/2)

The party was a simple get-together between friends. Dan put little effort into preparing his home, other than the completely normal, panicked cleaning, that the mere suggestion of company usually brings about. Abby had him raid her fridge for what he assumed was a very expensive cut of meat, then had him retrieve an odd, egg-shaped device from her backyard, about the width of a dinner plate.

It was a grill. The damn thing opened up like a Matryoshka doll, with half a dozen racks for meat, and some kind of heat distribution device winding throughout the whole thing. One bag of very expensive charcoal later, and they had a fire going. Abby was hardly a professional chef, but the robo-grill seemed to do ninety-five percent of the work. Dan was salivating heavily by the time Connor and Freya arrived.

They rang the doorbell at precisely eight o'clock. Dan opened it up with a greeting on his lips, but paused upon seeing the pair. It was the first that he'd seen of either of them in weeks. Freya, as beautiful and composed as ever, was wearing a simple top, pants, and strappy heels. Connor was wearing a t-shirt and cargo pants, and carrying a brown paper bag. It was as casual as Dan had ever seen either of them.

”I didn't even know you two owned clothes that looked like that,” he remarked, in lieu of a greeting.

”Classy, Newman,” Connor replied, rolling his eyes. ”Are you going to invite us inside?”

Dan grinned. ”Nice to see ya.” He pulled the door open, and stepped aside, allowing the two of them in.

Connor waved with airy acknowledgement, then passed over his bag. ”Here,” he said. ”Wine.”

Dan pulled it out and read the label. It meant nothing to him. ”Neat.”

That comment earned him another mildly affectionate eye-roll.

The pair soon fell back into comfortable familiarity within the house. Abby and Freya chatted in the kitchen, each clearly relieved to see the other. The two women had developed an odd kinship over the months that they'd known each other, fueled in part by mutual exasperation towards their loved ones. They were both awkward in their own way, with Freya's stiff formality, and Abby's dorky cheer. Somehow, these traits canceled each other out, allowing for what appeared to be seamless small talk.

Dan and Connor left them to it, choosing instead to drink beer on the couch and bicker about things that didn't matter. In this case, whether or not tear gas could be manipulated by a sufficiently powerful or talented hydrokinetic.

”It's just a name, Newman,” Connor explained loudly. ”They don't actually control just water. That would be useless! You'd have to carry a jug around with you everywhere!”

”Why bother? People are made of water,” Dan pointed out.

”It doesn't work like that!” the younger man exclaimed. ”You know it doesn't work like that! There is no hydrokinesis upgrade in existence that allows for the control of water within a living body! And if there was, it'd get banned almost instantly.”

”Yeah, they'd say that,” Dan replied, slurring slightly. ”You know. They. But I bet they're around anyway.”

Connor shook his head. ”Upgrades like that, where you might accidentally kill yourself while learning your ability, are almost universally banned. These things don't come with a handbook, and we can't all use something as simple as teleportation.”

”Hey!” Dan protested. ”Teleportation is super complicated! I barely even know what's happening when it happens! It's that complicated.”

They were both slightly drunk at this point. It hadn't taken long. Connor was shotgunning beer cans like a man who had been cooped up with his parents on a desert island for weeks, and Dan refused to be left behind.

”Complicated schmompli— schomplicate, um.” Connor blinked, then shook his head like a wet dog. ”Complicated my ass. I bet all you have to do is think 'I wanna be over there!' and poof! There you are!”

”Well.” Dan conceded the point with a shrug. ”Even so. If you call an upgrade Hydrokinesis, it should only control water. Thas' all I'm sayin'.”

”Liquids, Newman, not just water! And not just... liquid, liquid, but also gas liquid. Gaseous.” Connor frowned. ”Evaporated. No, that sounds wrong. The point is, creating and controlling fog is a staple of the upgrade. Tear gas is the same thing. But not just water. Obviously.”

Dan blew a raspberry in Connor's general direction.

They both took a drink.

”Speaking of learning abilities,” Dan segwayed with the skill of a master, ”did you wanna show off yours?”

”While intoxicated?” Connor asked, waving his beer can for emphasis. ”Why Mr. Newman, what a spectacular idea!” The sarcasm in his tone clashed horribly with his actions, as he stood up, visibly steadied himself, and fell into a loose stance.

Dan saw nothing wrong with this. Fortunately, there were sober people in the house.

”Not in the living room!” Abby shouted from the kitchen.

The pair turned to see her waving a ladle threateningly in their direction.

”Take it to the basement!” she continued! Her own suggestion seemed to register with her moments later, as she jumped in place and exclaimed, ”Oh! But wait for me! I want to see this too!”

Which is how four people found themselves in Dan's refurbished vigilante lair. The room was split into two parts, with a seating area and table at the entrance, and a training room placed in the once hidden portion. He'd hoped for the former to become some kind of games room, and the latter to be his gym.

Anastasia hadn't bothered closing the hidden door that had separated the two sections, nor had she told Dan how to do it. With the threat of heavy steel doors bisecting him every time he crossed the threshold, Dan elected to simply remove the things. He used his veil to scoop them out of the walls piecemeal. They were floating in t-space now, in about fifty separate chunks.

He hadn't decided on an aesthetic, so the walls were plain, unadorned metal. Abby had chosen not to decorate this room, telling Dan that his not-actually-secret lair should be a reflection of himself. Trouble was, he wasn't sure what that meant quite yet. The only thing he knew, was that he deeply disliked the current drab monotone. But he wasn't worried. He'd figure it out.

The gym portion of the room had a training mat covering the floor, alongside several weight machines that Dan had ordered. They were the same model as those at Abby's house. Though he could always use her place to exercise, Abby could not travel so freely. It just didn't feel the same without her yelling angry encouragement in his ear.

Connor took in the room with barely a glance, then swiftly settled onto the mat. He bounced slightly on his toes, mimicking a boxer's stance.

”Alright Newman, let's do this!” he announced.

Dan eyed him incredulously. ”Yeah, no. I'm not fighting you while drunk.”

The younger man bounced twice more, before deflating. ”Oh. How am I going to show off my power then?”

”You could start with words, dearest,” Freya pointed out from across the room. She and Abby had settled in to the chairs by the entrance. Abby's feet were kicked up onto the table, and both women were sipping out of cups with tiny umbrellas in them.

”Words. Right.” Connor nodded to himself. He turned to Dan. ”Okay, hit me!”

Dan stared at him for a moment, then shrugged, and complied. The lazy haymaker landed on Connor's shoulder and sent him straight off his feet. As he fell, his torso suddenly changed its direction. His feet slid across the floor, finding themselves beneath him once more, and he seemed to almost fall upright. Almost as if Dan had pulled him to his feet, rather than knocking him down.

Connor straightened, then fanned out his hands. ”Taddaaah.”

Abby clapped.

”My brain hurts, seeing that,” Dan noted. ”You moved like a slinky.”