20,000 Words Reached!

20k! Woo-hoo! Reached a milestone in my first League novel today. The last time I hit 20k on any work of fiction that I wrote was…well…never. Let celebrate by serving up a portion, shall we?

The “room” that he had led Alyson to was actually her supervisor’s office, wide windows with a view of the Gulf. Also with a view of the entire admin wing, which didn’t necessarily cut down on the number of eyes on her, just their ability to hear what was being said. 

“Alabama?” Magnificent leaned against the desk, the glass top creaking a bit in protest.

Alyson blinked, the eyes in the other room forgotten. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re from Alabama originally, according to your file.”

“No, there’s a mistake. I’m from Massachusetts. Boston.” How could they know? They couldn’t know. “I was born in Wisconsin.” 

Magnificent frowned and flipped through the file in his hands. Had he had a file when he showed up looking for her? She didn’t remember one. “Right. That is what you put down when you filled out the background check information. It’s also the memory you implanted in about 75% of the officials that we were able to contact about your birth certificate.” He closed the folder, put it down on the desk. “What I’m asking about is what you didn’t put down.” 

She was going to throw up, right here, on Magnificent’s shiny costume, in front of the entire admin pool. 

Magnificent stopped scanning the papers and focused on Alyson. “Do you still hear her often, your mother?”

The question was an frozen ice pick to the gut. Nausea was replaced by a feeling that her scalp was on fire, travelling down the back of her neck, her spine. In that moment she didn’t care that this man had saved the world countless times in the past 20 years. She didn’t care that his signature was at the bottom of her paychecks. All she saw was a man who had overstepped his bounds. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Ignoring her tone completely, Magnificent produced a paper from the middle of her file. “Patricia Cornin, maiden name Acker.” His tone was detached. “Low-level psychic. Most likely only able to communicate with those whom she shared a blood or extended personal tie. Deceased. Potential psychic echo remains in daughter.” He went back to staring at Alyson.

Alyson hissed. “You can take that paper and shove it up your ass.” 

“I’m going to take that as an affirmative to the last point, then.” He scribbled on the sheet. “Good, the folks in Records have debated that for a while, now. Actually quite the discussion; there are entire message board threads dedicated to it.”

“What?” Her entire body was tingling. She was flexing her fingers in and out to try and dissipate the urge to completely enclose Magnificent’s head in a force bubble to get him to stop talking. 

“Message boards. The records department can’t share their work with the general public, for obvious reasons, so we set up message boards for them to chat online about this stuff. It’s been amazingly useful.” He gave her a self-satisfied smile.

“No! Not that!” She was pacing now, trying to make sense of the situation. “You were talking about my mother, my hometown. What the fuck is it that you want?” She approached the window and stopped, the potential vectors of the current situation coalescing in her mind. When she spoke, her voice was thin, distant. “I’m going to Holding. Aren’t I? That’s why you’re here.”

Magnificent cleared his throat with an embarrassed hitch. “I mentioned before, Alyson; I’m here to talk about your transfer.” He straightened his back and stood tall. 

“You’re going to be a superhero.”

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