[The Big Cheese's POV]
I stride out of Dunkin Donuts, my yellow cape billowing behind me as the bell jingles cheerfully. The box in my hands is warm, filled with powdered donuts just begging to be devoured during my goon session tonight. My cheese-shaped mask conceals my anticipatory grin as I imagine the sweet, sugary treats melting on my tongue while I flick my villainous bean.
But as I step onto the sidewalk, my musings are shattered by the most unbelievable sight above me. There, suspended in the azure expanse of the sky, is Super Star.
Her casual t-shirt and jeans are drenched in crimson. Her long brown hair, usually so perfectly styled, whips wildly in the wind, matted with what can only be blood. But it's her face that truly chills me to my evil core, her emerald eyes, normally filled with righteous determination, now burn with an unholy fire of rage.
In her iron grip, she holds Tyrell. His legs kick feebly as Super Star's fingers tighten around his throat, choking the life out of him with terrifying efficiency.
"What the heck?"
Super Star's fingers constrict around Tyrell's throat like a vice. With a sickening crack that echoes across the stunned street, she snaps his neck with her grip. His body goes limp instantly.
But the horror show isn't over. Before my eyes, Tyrell's corpse begins to disintegrate, crumbling away into a fine powder that slips through Super Star's fingers. The wind catches it, swirling the remains into ghostly patterns before dispersing them to nothingness, just like the powdered sugar on my beloved donuts.
I stand frozen, my cheese-masked head tilted skyward as Super Star flies away.
As the shock wears off, realization hits me like a ton of bricks. With Tyrell out of the picture, Mind Mistress's plan can proceed unhindered! My spirits soar higher than Super Star herself.
Careful not to jostle my precious donut box, I fish out my phone and dial The Rapist with my free hand. Her grating voice crackles through the speaker.
"Cheese, what the fuck do you want?"
"Do you know any women with AIDS?" I ask, struggling to keep the excitement from my voice.
She chuckles darkly. "I can probably find a few willing participants," she purrs. "What exactly did you have in mind?"
"I need them to rape someone. Why else would I call you?"
*****
[Luke's POV]
I sit in the plush leather seat in Star Tower's opulent lobby, idly twiddling my thumbs as chaos unfolds around me. The polished marble floors reflect the frantic movements of employees and emergency personnel rushing about in response to the devastation that has befallen Boston.
But I remain an island of calm amidst the storm, patiently waiting for Skye's return. My mind wanders, replaying the surreal events of the morning, the plane crashing into our penthouse, Osama bin Laden in Goku cosplay, Skye's brutal display of power. It all feels like some bizarre fever dream, yet the evidence of its reality surrounds me in the panicked faces and urgent activity filling the lobby.
'Thank god I use cloud saves in Minecraft.'
Suddenly, the automatic doors at the entrance slide open with a soft whoosh. The sounds of the chaotic city, wailing sirens, shouting voices, the distant crackle of flames, briefly intrude before being muffled once more as the doors close.
And there she is.
Skye strides into the lobby, her presence immediately commanding attention despite her blood-soaked appearance. Her casual clothes are caked in gore, dark crimson stains spreading across the fabric. Drying blood is smeared across her skin and matted in her hair.
Yet despite the horrific state of her appearance, Skye's emerald eyes light up the moment they lock onto mine. A brilliant smile spreads across her face, transforming her from avenging angel to the woman I love in an instant.
In her hands, she clutches a stack of documents, the crisp white paper a stark contrast to the bloody fingerprints marking their edges. With purposeful steps, she crosses the lobby, her blood-encrusted sneakers leaving faint red impressions on the polished floor.
"Come on," she says, her voice low and urgent.
She leads me to a nearby table. With a resounding thud, Skye slams the stack of papers down, sending a few flecks of dried blood scattering across the rich wood grain.
"Luke, I need you to sign these," she commands, her emerald eyes intense as she spreads the documents out.
Skye presses an elegant fountain pen into my hand. As I lean over the table, I can't help but notice the official-looking seals and letterheads adorning the pages.
Skye's slender finger, still stained with traces of gore, points to a line at the bottom of the first page. "Sign here," she instructs, her voice carrying an edge of impatience.
I hesitate, the pen hovering just above the paper. A bead of sweat forms on my brow as my mind races through possibilities.
"Are we... are we taking out a loan in my name?" I ask, my voice cracking slightly with nervousness.
Skye's brow furrows, creating little creases in the dried blood on her forehead. Her emerald eyes narrow in confusion as if she can't quite comprehend my question.
"No," she says slowly, drawing out the word. "They're just marriage papers."
Relief washes over me like a cool wave, the tension in my shoulders instantly melting away. "Ohhh," I breathe out, a nervous chuckle escaping my lips. "That makes sense."
With renewed confidence, I begin signing my name on the lines Skye indicates, the ink flowing smoothly across the crisp paper. As I work my way through the stack, I can feel Skye's eyes on me, her gaze a mix of amusement and bewilderment.
"Luke," she says, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You do realize I'm rich, right? Like, obscenely wealthy?"
I pause mid-signature, looking up at her with wide eyes. The pen hovers over the paper, a tiny drop of ink forming at its tip.
"Well, I didn't know if losing your building would be a problem," I say hesitantly, suddenly feeling rather foolish.
Skye's eyebrows shoot up, disappearing beneath her blood-matted bangs. For a moment, she looks utterly perplexed, as if I've just spoken in an alien language. Then, to my surprise, she bursts into laughter.
"Oh, that?" she says, waving a hand dismissively. "That's a drop in the bucket, Luke. The Super Star team pays for that, plus we have an apartment here in Star Tower, too."
I blink, trying to process this information. The idea of such immense wealth is almost as jarring to me as Osama bin Laden in Goku cosplay. "Oh," I manage, feeling rather sheepish.
A thought strikes me, and I look up at Skye, studying her gore-splattered face. "Are you sad you lost your building?" I ask softly.
Skye looks genuinely perplexed by my question as if the concept of mourning a lost possession is utterly foreign to her.
"I don't care about the building," she says, her voice filled with a conviction that takes my breath away. "As long as I have you, nothing else matters."
I nod, a warm feeling spreading through my chest at her words. We fall into a comfortable silence as I continue signing the papers, the scratch of pen on paper a soothing counterpoint to the muffled chaos outside.
As I near the end of the stack, a thought occurs to me.
"I wonder if we should move out of the city when we have kids," I muse aloud, the words slipping out before I can really think about them.
Skye's emerald eyes glow mischievously at my words, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her blood-stained lips. She leans in close, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"Have you been trying to knock me up, Luke?" she purrs, her breath warm against my ear.
I feel heat rising to my cheeks, but I meet her gaze steadily. "I blow every load I have into you," I say matter-of-factly. "You've never mentioned birth control, so you tell me."
Skye's smirk widens into a full grin. "Being a supe, it's harder to conceive," she explains, her voice tinged with amusement. "But if you want to raise a brat with me, you should keep trying."
I can't help but smile at the thought, a warm feeling spreading through my chest as I imagine a little one with Skye's emerald eyes and my unruly hair. "A baby would be nice," I say softly, my mind filled with visions of tiny footsteps and sleepless nights.
Skye's face suddenly turns serious, her emerald eyes taking on a faraway look.
"Luke," she says, her voice low and intense, "there's something you should know about having a baby with me."
I lean in, captivated by the gravity in her tone. The bustling lobby around us seems to fade away, leaving just the two of us in this moment.
"Usually," Skye continues, her words measured and careful, "the stronger the parents, the stronger the baby. And since we both have powers... We would realistically be giving birth to the strongest person to ever live."
The weight of her words hits me like a physical force. I shake my head in surprise, trying to wrap my mind around the implications. Images flash through my mind, a toddler lifting cars, a child outrunning jets, a teenager accidentally leveling cities with a temper tantrum.
"Wait," I say, nervousness creeping into my voice as a horrifying thought occurs to me. "Could the baby sneeze and kill me?"
The tension breaks as Skye bursts into laughter again.
"No, no," she assures me, still chuckling. "They don't show their powers until they awaken. Granted, I did awaken pretty early, though."
I nod, a mixture of relief and excitement coursing through me. The idea of having a super-powered child with Skye is both thrilling and terrifying, but I push those thoughts aside for now. There's still work to be done.
I turn my attention back to the stack of papers before me, the crisp white sheets now marred with my signature and a few stray drops of blood from Skye's hands. The elegant fountain pen glides smoothly across the final page as I sign my name one last time.
"All done," I announce, setting the pen down with a sense of finality. "Oh, and I'm just gonna keep dumping loads into you. If you get pregnant, you get pregnant."
"Oh, Luke. You really are reckless."
She reaches out and gathers up the papers, tapping them against the table to straighten the stack.
"Well, with this," Skye says, waving the papers triumphantly, "we're officially married."
I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm, but a practical thought occurs to me. "You gotta pass them in first," I remind her gently.
Skye's response is swift and playful. She lightly swats me on the head with the stack of papers, leaving a faint smear of blood on my forehead. "That's what I'm going to do right now," she declares.
I reach up to wipe the blood from my skin. "You're covered in blood," I point out, gesturing to her gore-soaked appearance.
Skye glances down at herself as if noticing her state for the first time. She shrugs, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "So?" she says, her tone challenging. "I'm Super Star. They can deal with it."
With that, she turns on her heel and strides towards the doors, leaving a trail of bloody footprints in her wake. The few employees still in the lobby scramble to get out of her way, their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear.