As Sandra walked up to the warehouse I was waiting in, Galatea used a small electric motor to open it, in what was supposed to be an inviting gesture.

“Hello? Hellooooo?” Sandra called out into the dark warehouse after entering.

I switched the lights on, all at the same time, creating a brightly lit space with the various scanners in the middle and a few dark corners, one of which contained me. Sandra walked into the lit space, past the shadow hiding me and I silently stepped out.

“Good Evening, Sandra. I have to say, well played. Well played, indeed.” I stated in a friendly, if distorted voice. The fact that I was once again behind her, caused another unheroic squeak to erupt. Luckily, this time I had recording equipment in place, it sounded just too cute to pass up on. Maybe I could use it as an ‘incoming message’-sound.

“God, I hate it when you do that! Why do you have to hide in shadows and sneak up on me?!” She asked in an annoyed voice.

“Would you believe me, if I told you that it is part of the unwritten code of conduct for Powered Villains?”

“Where did you get that from? I’ve never even heard of something like that!”

“I must have read it somewhere…”

The growling noise she made might be even more fun, compared to the squeaking.

“Or maybe, the reason is plain and simple. It is fun.” I conceded. Not that it helped her mood any.

“Why do you not hand over the files I asked for, before we start the tests? Do not worry, the tests are non-invasive and completely safe. I merely want to ascertain my assumptions, to make sure that the conclusions drawn are correct.” I assured her.

For the first time, since she entered, she looked past her indignation and took me in.

“You are not in armour.” She stated, in an amazing display of observational prowess.

“I believe you are right. The meeting tonight is one that is supposed to be to both our benefit. Wearing armour would make it feel far too hostile, at least in my opinion.” As I spoke, she walked over and handed me a memory stick.

“Can you tell me what you plan with the information?” She asked, after handing the stick over.

“I do not mind you knowing. I doubt that you would interfere in a problematic way.” I answered, while walking to a prepared computer. It was completely unconnected to anything but a second computer, just in case a virus only turned active when it detected an active network-connection. They were even lacking wireless-modules, in case a virus was made to be sent to the nearest wireless network, in hopes of infecting my base-network. The only things of value on the system were every malware-scanner I could think of or write, including a few that Galatea had purpose-written. They would make sure that nothing on the stick could cause any harm.

A quick glance showed only text and image files, but I had not enough time to check if those were what I wanted. But the files were only a bonus, my true reward was the information gained by the tests on her power.

“The information you provided me will allow me to bring down the Omegas altogether. They are a plague on our beautiful city and I want them gone. That is why I do not mind you knowing my plans. I doubt that you would want to aid criminals avoiding justice, would you?” I asked. There was surprise on her face as I spoke, as if she did not believe a word of what I said.

After a moment, her face clouded over. “What do you mean by justice? Do you plan to kill them all?!” she asked, in an angry voice.

“No, of course not. Justice, in this case, means that I plan to see them all rot in jail, convicted by a judge and a jury of their peers.” That statement took the wind right out of her sails.

“Why? Why do you work outside the law, not with the League? You could do so much more good if you were a part of the League.”

“Let me pose you a problem. Assume, for a moment, that you were a Jew in Germany, in, let us say, the year nineteen-twenty-nine and an official asked you for a memberlist for your congregation, using a tax supposed to fund Christian education, which Jewish people were exempt from, as a pretext. Would you hand over such a list?” I asked. It was a hypothetical scenario, but one that worked quite well, in my opinion.

When she hesitated, I added “Remember, you don’t know the future, or, from our perspective, the history.”

“I would probably hand the list over. After all, it serves my people.” she admitted.

“I would not. I am personally deeply sceptical of governmental power, especially if they use fear as a pretense to curb the rights of a group, as they did with Powered. So, I will fight tooth and nail to keep myself from being on any list that would allow them to round Powered up, if they wanted to. Hopefully, I am just paranoid. Hopefully, because the alternative is too horrible to imagine.” I stated with conviction.

When I gestured her to follow me to the test-equipment, she looked pensive. I had not planned to make her question her path in society, but maybe it was just well that she did. She was idealistic, but not stupid.

“You emit the charges from your hands, yes? Please place them onto those copper-rods and slowly amp up the power you put in.” I said, showing her to a scanner.

Over the next hour, I made her zap lightning into a multitude of targets, each at different distances and through a multitude of scanners, all gathering tons of data on the way her power worked. Those scans alone would probably remain inconclusive, when it came to her potential as a nuke, but I knew already what the explosion had been, so there was no fear. And I was getting more data than expected. It was incredibly fascinating, watching the charge be generated within her body and travel outwards, straightening along the way, before being emitted from her palms. Thanks to my work on magnetic fields and the magnetic envelopes used in my Plasma-Cannon, the tools I had to detect electromagnetic flux were amongst the best in the world. And here, I had a Powered, demonstrating her power to my heart’s content.

We had pauses, so she could send messages to Joy, and incidentally me, telling us that everything was alright and she was doing fine, so neither of us would call the cavalry. Getting the message, I felt a little like an iron. As they say, felons commit felony and I was definitely commiting irony at that moment.

Finally, all tests were done, all data gathered and I made a show of displaying it on a huge screen, intently staring at numbers, looking at graphs and hemming and hawing.

After maybe twenty minutes, I turned to her and gave a verdict.

“You will not explode in any way, shape or form. At least not with any extraordinary power. There is nothing in your power that could have caused it but there is a strange decay-effect at higher strength. I believe that it is what separates the electricity you generate from normal electricity and, and this is pure speculation, it is an existential part of either your, or all, Powered. Sadly, I cannot clearly define where the decay is draining to, I can only measure that it happens, but not how or where to.”

“So, I’m safe?” she asked.

“Yes, you are just as safe to be around as you always have been.”

She shivered for a moment, before a tension I had not noticed drained from her. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” she exclaimed and I could see tears form in her eyes. I felt almost dirty abusing her fears like I had but I had to play a role.

“You are welcome. I will admit, I came out way ahead on our trade, so I will owe you one.”

“No, you don’t. But if you want to do me a favour, I have an idea.”

“Oh, do tell.”

“Fleetfoot. If you spot him, I want to fry his ass. The jerk attacked a friend of mine. The techs pulled a picture of him, unmasked, but he vanished without a trace.” She said with a smile on her face. A smile that would not have been out of place on a lion, staring at a zebra.

“Yes, I can do that.” I stated, even while doubting that anything would come of it. After all, I had been searching for longer than they had and had seen neither hide nor hair of him.

And I owed him a cheap-shot. so I had motivation.

We split and maybe ten minutes after Sandra left, she called on the number for Cat. I answered and, before she got a word out, lit into her.

“Are you alright?! Are you insane?! What on earth has possessed you to meet with a known criminal?!” I barely controlled my voice, almost yelling.

“Good Evening, Cat. Yes, I’m alright, No, I’m not insane and I wanted information and she was the only source.” She sounded slightly amused by the whole thing.

“Do I want to know?” I asked in an exasperated voice.

“Maybe. Why don’t we meet tomorrow morning, at the same place as last time? Say, at ten o’clock?” She asked.

“Fine, I’ll be there. Nighty-night.”

That should be interesting.