The building was dark, as if the electricity had been cut. The usual bustling air contained within its walls was absent. Charlie was immediately on guard, clutching his dark matter vest until his knuckles went white. No one was in the halls but himself, and he couldn't hear anything from the first floor. After sweeping through quickly, he decided that he'd need to keep checking every floor until he found the hostages. Ideally, he'd nab them without having to fight the Traitors. Otherwise… he didn't want to think about it.
The stairs were the safer option, and it was the option Charlie was forced to use. Riding the elevator would announce his presence as nothing else would. The second floor was empty as well, and he only saw a few cowering staff workers on the next few. He was spending too much time scanning everything.
"Where did they take the rest of you?" Charlie demanded of one of the few that apparently managed to evade the Traitors' notice.
"I don't know," the woman whispered. Furious, Charlie whirled away and went searching for the next person, cursing his luck with every step. The fifth person he interrogated knew something of consequence, though.
"When they passed by me earlier, a couple of men were talking about something on the twelfth floor. That's all I know, though," the old man offered from behind his desk. It was a good hiding spot, even if Charlie could tell he was there from the one oddly shiny shoe poking out from under the desk. He thanked the man, racing for the stairs.
His footsteps echoed through the sterile stairwell, this section of the building in stark contrast from the opulent interior of the rest of City Hall. Without electricity, the only light that entered the stairwell came from a few windows – barely enough to guide him on his flight to the top. And yet, possessed by instinct, Charlie found that he wasn't all that impeded.
When he reached the twelfth floor, he slowed, opening the door with the slightest of touches. Immediately, he heard talking from somewhere nearby. The old man was right. Charlie snuck deeper into the rooms that surrounded him, his only guiding beacon the violent voices that were anything but inconspicuous.
"What is the code?" When the question went unanswered, Charlie heard the sound of a palm hitting a face. A man cried out. Without a doubt, this was Mayor Webber. What in the world did the Traitor want with a code? Charlie walked closer, peering into every entryway in case he found hostages separate from the mayor.
A different voice spoke, now. This one was a woman's, and it seemed like she was even less enthused than her partner. "We know you have the code to the bunker. You'll give it to us, or your son will suffer the consequences for your silence." Oh no. Brian. There was no more time to waste. Charlie needed to find that room.
The voices grew loudest at the next door. With great care, Charlie raised his head, catching a glimpse of Mayor Webber through the glass in the middle of the door. This was it. As he raised his hand to grab the door handle, he was thrown off his feet. Charlie shot to the opposite wall, crumpling at the ground. Looking up, a familiar face loomed.
"You. Weren't you the one that said something at the school?" The Super was much more focused now than he had been at the school. Though Charlie's power was unique, it was something that he had not yet mastered. His heroics at the school earlier had demonstrated the peak of his powers. And yet, he needed to figure something out, or he'd be joining Brian.
"Yeah, I was. What about it, asshole?" Step one was to goad the Super into hitting him, preferably on the face. Before that wish could be made real, Charlie molded his dark matter into a glorious bucket, and he dumped it over his head. It was harder than metal, and it completely obscured Charlie's vision. And yet, invisible as it was to the Super in front of him, it would act as armor. With any luck, it would hurt the Traitor enough to allow Charlie to bring the fight to close quarters, where the man's flame would do no good.
The Traitor clenched his fists, hissing through his teeth. "You've made a big mistake." As expected, the rogue Super threw a punch, colliding with Charlie's bucket armor. As expected, the man's fist ricocheted off the armor, but not before it the bucket smooshed into Charlie's nose. With a furious yell, Charlie rose from the ground and threw the bucket at the pained Traitor, following it with an uppercut.
He didn't even have time to summon his flames before Charlie's fists of fury arrived. Well, his singular fist of fury. The Traitor went down, collapsing to the floor. This time, Charlie made sure the man was unconscious before rising to his feet. Their fight had been short, but it had certainly been loud enough to raise even the dead.
He opted to hide in the nook of another doorway, waiting to see who would come out from the room where the mayor was held. A woman with bright, blue-dyed hair slammed the door open. "Jerry?" She inspected her KO'd partner, feeling for a pulse. Though Charlie's refuge was a fair distance away, he heard her sigh of relief, much like he heard her subsequent demand for him to reveal himself. Yeah, like he'd ever do that willingly.
Her voice only grew in volume, and from her footsteps he could tell she was coming closer. Lady Luck had it in for him today, it seemed. Maybe, revealing himself really was the best option? Steeling himself, he dedicated himself to his next idea.
"Okay, okay. I'm coming out," he yelled, floating his bucket of dark matter in front of him as he walked into the center of the hallway. Though, on a logical level, Charlie knew that these Supers were the same age as him, she really didn't seem like the type to take a whole building hostage. Rather, based on her wardrobe choices, she looked like the cheerleading type, sans the bubbly personality.
Without waiting for her to do anything more than recognize his presence, Charlie shot the bucket at her as fast as he could, catching her completely unaware. Using the distraction to its maximum, Charlie followed the bucket and used his tried-and-true technique: the uppercut.
Except, it wasn't so tried-and-true after all. She caught it.