The phrase reminded James of an event several years earlier, and he quickly tried to push that memory to the back of his mind. “It happens to all chemists,” he answered a bit shortly.
“This,” he explains patiently, “Is to stop superhero discrimination. It doesn’t make sense for the Act to still exist – it’s been almost twenty years, and nothing has been solved. Crime rates have gone up, insurance has doubled, it’s making people turn on each other.”
He didn’t regret any of his decisions either in being a hero or a father, but he sometimes wished the world had been a little different, so that his children could grow up enjoying their powers instead of hiding and stifling them.
It was a truth of war that they never mentioned along with so many others for fear that voicing it aloud would make it real. They knew death like the back of their hands but putting it to words gave it power and allowed fear to settle over their hearts. They’d been in this war far too long to let it.
Tatiana had never been a coward. She’d gone plunging in to treat soldiers in the war when she was only sixteen years old. She helped with amputations. She was brave every single day that she was separated from the ones that she loved. Tatiana knew courage through and through – but no matter what, she always understood mercy better.
Their eyes were locked on each other, and both of their expressions softened simultaneously. His uniform and armor were stripped away, and so was her professional air. They were sixteen year olds, young and frightened, and so full of raw emotion that they could scarcely hold back.
The plan is formulating in her mind faster than she can stop it, and maybe it’s putting herself and him, and everything else that she’s worked for at risk, but she won’t let them torture a boy who’s her age, who’s barely old enough to even be in the war, without doing something about it.
“I’m going to get you out of here,” she whispers.