“Please forgive me if I don’t–”
Starcrowe looked the bald white young man over and sniffed, “I heard about you.”
If he had eyebrows, Alexander would have raised one in a questioning gesture. “You have?”
“I heard you tore a guy’s heart out of his chest.”
“Yes,” said Alexander. “I’ve done that.”
“Does Mike know?”
“We have an…arrangement.”
“You kill them and he raises them for his zombies?”
Alexander crossed his arms. He was wearing a full suit that Mike had paid for out of his own money, a suit that supposedly did not disintegrate at his touch. It had a lot of give to it, though it was skin-tight, and black, with a hood and a cape. Lexi thought it was very heroic, and she was proud of her brother getting into the Teen Guardians. Alexander wasn’t so sure.
At the reaction, Starcrowe visibly backpedaled. “I’m kidding. Mostly.”
“You don’t know what I can do. You don’t want to cross me.”
Starcrowe used his swords of fire to slice through the fireproof door of the warehouse. “Come on and prove it. What’s your handle, anyway?”
“Toxicon,” said Alexander, walking by Starcrowe and into the warehouse.
This was Starcrowe’s job, and Alexander was along to assist and watch, and, according to Mike, “Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” Starcrowe didn’t, letting Alexander take the lead most of the time.
Supposedly, the suit was breathable so that the acid could leak out if he concentrated enough. He had tested it at the apartment, and found he could handle things for quite some time before the natural oils leaked out of the suit enough to cause minor damage. It wasn’t fool proof, he assumed, though he hadn’t pushed the limits of the suit yet.
VIPER was an easy enemy. Alexander would rush in, under a hail of bullets that the suit also deflected – but not without bruising. Starcrowe at one point some creatures made of pure shadow came out of nowhere and started wailing on VIPER. This happened a few times which made Alexander wonder if Starcrowe was like Mike, and could summon things.
They mopped up pretty well, and as Starcrowe led the way out, Alexander asked, “Did I pass?”
“You weren’t bad,” he said, walking ahead.
“Punk,” whispered Alexander behind his back.