“Skip ahead to the powder’s effects. Is it a poison? Some sort of drug? A tracing agent?” Oversight prodded her. “Is there a good reason to avoid getting hit?”
She continued. “We’re . . . We’re . . .”
What the hell?
“... we’re showering in a rooftop garden somewhere. Hosing each other down.”
Someone snickered, but with her attention turned inwards, Carrie didn’t see who it was. She did hear a thump as that person was whapped, however.
“Uh . . . OK . . . now we’re changing costumes, and changing locations. A more thorough shower in one of the hiding holes . . . now we’re in civilians, it looks like we’re changing locations again ...”
She blinked, coming back to herself. A quick glance to her left saw Steelhand giving her a puzzled frown.
He’s not at all interested to know what I look like outside of the anonymity of my costume. He will never even let me see his face. Sour grapes settled in her stomach.
Sure, he’ll go to the movies as a civilian with her, but he can’t stand going out in public with me. Today is just getting better and better.
“It sounds like a tracking powder then,” Hindsight offered.
“We don’t know that yet,” Oversight cautioned him. “It could be some other sort of contaminant. It also sounds like a sensible precaution to put some distance between themselves and that powder, to limit any continuing contamination.”
“I can try skipping ahead a bit more,” Carrie offered, returning her attention to her power. “It’ll tire me out faster, but ... Wha—”
“What? What do you see?” Oversight demanded as her eyes widened in unfocused shock. “Foresight?”
She couldn’t speak. What she saw was beyond her comprehension, beyond her belief. But . . . there was no mistaking what would happen, if none of them greatly changed the course of their plans for the evening. At some point, after relocating to yet another safe house, some point during the night - she and Steelhand would be ... they would be ...
Naked. Together. Bare hands roaming, naked limbs entwining, hungry mouths mating, supple hips flexing. That level of naked. Together.
She watched herself, as herself- as Carrie, not as Foresight — and him as ... whatever his real name was, but not as the Ascendant hero, Steelhand. She watched him cradle her head in his palms, watched as he undulated over her in slow, strong strokes, watched their lips suckling and parting in devouring, deep—
Something hit her, jolting her out of her vision. Heart pounding, she blinked to clear her focus and realized someone had thrown a crumpled paper ball at her face. The rumpled sheet had landed on her purple-covered lap. Given the sardonic look of enquiry from the orange-clad hero opposite her, Bomber was the culprit.
“What did you see?” Oversight repeated.
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“Was it something horrible?” Nearsight asked her. “It looked like something horrible.”
“Or at least something shocking,” Farshot added.
“Is it something we should try to avoid?” Steelhand asked her.
The concern in his voice pricked her out of her shock. Blinking again, Carrie cleared her throat. “Uh . . . I’m . . . not sure. It was such a strong vision.”
She stopped and blushed so hot, she almost took off her mask to cool herself. Her silver gloved hands twitched; she wanted to fan herself, but she didn’t dare. N
ot when she couldn’t, daren’t reveal the details of her vision.
“Um ... it was such a strong vision, I, ah, don’t think there’s a way we can avoid it. I mean, I literally couldn’t see anything else, when normally I’m at least peripherally aware of my realtime surroundings.”
Not that there’s any way that I would want to avoid it, she thought, still fighting the urge to fan herself with something. She did unfold one arm, but only long enough to pluck the crumpled paper ball from her lap.
“Well, that doesn’t answer the question. What did you see?” Oversight asked her. “Was it the effects of the powder?”
Oh God . . .
The heat drained out of her face. What if it’s an aphrodisiac? What if the only reason that he makes love to me is because he has no choice in the matter?