“I don’t like to talk about it.” The smell of burnt cheese still stained Arin's nostrils.

“That’s awesome. It must've been something really awful!” Flux only got more enthusiastic. “No parents and an accident to give you powers? Wow! Some people have all the luck with tragic pasts. Those really seem to be the ones that make it the furthest in this industry, though. Isn’t that funny? Aren't you happy to be in Urban City? I hear it has the highest crime rate in the world, but almost all the heroes are here to control it. Though, all the villains are too.” They managed to say all of these words in less than eight seconds.

“If that’s really true, then why does anyone else bother to live here?” Arin asked with one one-hundredth of the enthusiasm of Flux.

“I don’t actually know. That’s a good point. Seems odd that normal people live where all this super stuff goes down. But hey, maybe they will get to see something cool! I can’t wait to get in my first fight!” Flux continued to babble on and on long after Arin lost track of the conversation. They finally stopped when a shadow passed over them. 

They both pivoted to see Dr. Rage was now standing over them ominously. He shot his finger directly out to Arin. Thunder clapped at the whip of his hand, and he belted, “You! Name? Powers?” 

Arin squinted her eyes and cocked her hip to the side. “Seriously? You were literally with me five minutes ag—”

“DO I NEED TO REPEAT MYSELF?” 

Arin’s hood flew off.

“No, sir.” Arin saluted sarcastically. “Red Electron, sir. Control of electricity, sir.”

“I do not believe this was your assigned costume, Red Electron,” Dr. Rage pointed out.

Arin didn’t remove her hand from her forehead. “That’s because the last costume was an insult to my identity, sir.” 

“There are rules you know—”

“You’re going to have to accept that I am often the exception to many rules, sir.” Arin dropped her hand, never once losing the sense of humor that, quite honestly, everyone else seemed to be taking too seriously, judging by their shocked expressions.

Dr. Rage rubbed at his chin. “Bold choice of words, Red. You know you kind of remind me of someone—”

“You?”

“No,” Dr. Rage stated, blankly. Then, his face twisted and contorted into a smile that made Arin fear for her life, despite her previous no-bullshit attitude. He leaned in as he continued to speak. “Yes. I think I have the perfect secret identity job for you.”

Arin sat by a grey desk, at a grey cubicle, in a grey office, on a grey phone, with a grey cord attached to a grey receiver, next to a cream-colored monitor. She slumped her head to her desk with a loud thud. The phone rang, and she answered it without looking or lifting up her head.

“Thank you for calling Mag.Net’s IT consultant service hotline. This is Arin Adams speaking. Please spell your name and tell us your issue.” 

She banged her head on her desk with each sentence she uttered, wishing she had obtained the power of thinking before she spoke instead.