A Super Mix of Super Heroes

Treasure

Treasure

Void
Paul Wronski adjusted the vase of flowers on the living room coffee table. Then he pushed it back just a smidge. There! Center. He brushed off his hands nervously and looked around. The small living room leading into the utilitarian kitchen was spotless and perfect. Other than the fat gerbil sitting on the stool next to the breakfast bar nibbling on the last of a handful of seeds.

"Everything has to be perfect, Mr. Kuzco," he fretted to the gerbil. "First impressions are everything! We are getting a new roommate, and we must not be weird, okay?"

The gerbil looked at him, tiny jaw moving at hyper speed as it chewed up the seeds. Nuts, it said.

"Yes, Mr. Kuzco, you are right, this is nuts, but what else are we supposed to do?" Paul sighed. "This town is too expensive to have such a nice apartment on our one paycheck!" He looked around morosely.

The apartment was not exactly a walk-up penthouse, but it was nice. Clean, quiet neighbors, two bedrooms, and a shared bath that was big enough for Paul to move around in with some comfort. That was no small feat for a six-foot-tall gorilla of a man. There was even a fire escape leading up to the roof! Yes, that was legally required, but he couldn't help feeling a surge of pleasure at that. Easy access to the roof for his garden... and other reasons. It was a good apartment.

Footsteps outside the door caught his attention. "They're here!" he gasped. "Oh no, they're here!" He scooped up Mr. Kuzco, swept the leftover seeds into his pocket, and dashed into his bedroom. The gerbil found itself unceremoniously dumped into its cage, which it expressed its displeasure at with some loud gerbil swearing. Paul ignored him as he ran to the door and slid across the floor. He stopped and caught his breath, smoothing down his hair before opening the door with a smile. "Hello!"
 
Asha Cordova hated people. They were messy, unorganized, and kept getting in her way. No, she did not need help. Yes, she was a small woman with two large sized cases, but she was lean, fit, and doing just fine on her own.

“UGH!” Asha roared as her suitcase caught on a crack and slipped from her grasp, again. She turned to pick it up.

“Here, let me, OW!” Asha’s eyes glowed a bit as the air around her burned. The person whipped their hand back and rubbed the new red area. Asha huffed as she picked her suitcase and walked on. She didn’t need people. People made messes. Her last roommate would leave her dishes in the sink overnight and never put her toothbrush in the cup. Then that person had the audacity to kick her out because she was too demanding and the air around her was suffocating.

“Maybe it was suffocating because you were not supposed to be in it.” Asha huffed to herself as she entered the apartment complex. Once she hefted her bags into the elevator, she pulled in the heat from around her. The small space helped her senses kick in. People were uncontrollable, but she was in control. “Just because something can be out of control does not mean it should be. You are better than this.” Asha mumbled the words to herself as she looked at her reflection in the elevator doors.

The trip here had unruffled her. “You are in control.” She growled at the messy reflection. Quickly, she straightened her jacket and pushed her locks behind her ears. The loud beeped signaled doors opening. Asha rolled her shoulders backed and walked out, her steps clicking against the tile rhythmically. She stopped at the door labeled 3303 and raised her hand to knock. The door flew open.

“Hello!” Envy hit Asha as she stared directly into the man’s large long torso. She glared up at him. He may be taller, bigger, and most likely stronger than her, but she was still in control. She let the air around her grow heavy with heat.

“You are Paul Wronski, yes? I am Asha Cordova, your new roommate.” Asha stuck her heated hand out. It wouldn’t burn him; it would just show his character. For fire burns lies and reveals the true nature of things.
 
Paul's smile only faltered a little as the sheer power of this small woman's personality hit him. He gathered himself up internally and took her hand, shaking it eagerly, and in the same move he pulled her into the apartment. "Hi! Welcome! Oh, it is so good to see you, Miss Cordova!" he greeted her warmly. "We've been expecting you! I! I've been expecting you. Oh, here, lemme get those bags for you! I'll show you your room." He scooped up her bags before she could get the chance to protest and started marching down the short hall. "You get the big one! I hope you don't mind. I... thought you'd like it."

He stopped at the door and set the cases down with great care just inside the door. The bedroom was bare, but it had all the usual bedroom essentials, including two sets of sheets stacked neatly in the closet, and a giant mirror on the closet door. He turned to give his new roommate a pearly white smile, beaming with joy. Her hand had been very warm, so that had to mean she had a warm heart, right? Warm hands meant a warm heart, and cold hands meant a cold heart, and boy was her heart steaming! (He did not realize he had it backward and cold hands meant a warm heart and vice versa.)

"I just gotta tell ya, I'm really glad you're here," he rumbled in his deep, happy voice. "You're probably tired from your trip, so I'll let you get settled in, but I made spinach puffs! They are cooling down right now, and there's some cold lemonade in the refrigerator. You're gonna love it here!"
 
"Hi! Welcome! Oh, it is so good to see you, Miss Cordova!" Asha did not know whether to be offended or impressed at this man’s ability to appear unfazed. "We've been expecting you! I! I've been expecting you.” Asha raised an eyebrow at that. As far as she knew she there was only two rooms. She would have asked him about that, until he dared to touch her things. “Oh, here, lemme get those bags for you! I'll show you your room."

“Excuse me!” She yelped as she followed the man. His long gait made it harder for her to catch up. “Those are-”

"You get the big one! I hope you don't mind. I... thought you'd like it." Asha’s complaints died on her lips when she viewed the room. It was, perfect. Bare but with the essentials but most importantly, the walls were white. She hated colored walls. They were distracting during meditation.

"I just gotta tell ya, I'm really glad you're here," Asha looked back at the man. He was still smiling at her, still full of joy. "You're probably tired from your trip, so I'll let you get settled in, but I made spinach puffs!” Asha’s eyes widened and her stomach rumbled at the mention of food. “They are cooling down right now, and there's some cold lemonade in the refrigerator. You're gonna love it here!" The man was still unfazed by her heat or her. He was still in control.

Asha tilted her chin up. “We shall see, Mr. Wronski.” She straightened her jacket and turned towards the kitchen. “As of right now, I am not tired but some refreshments and those, spinach puffs,” Asha said the name of the unknown food slowly. “Of yours are needed.” She stopped, realizing that she did not know where the kitchen was or his room or the bathroom. She quickly turned towards him.

“After you rectify your rude hospitality. You still have yet to show me around. How am I supposed to know where your kitchen is or what room is yours so I may avoid it?” Asha crossed her arms, her irritation from before coming back. “And also, you said we. Is there another room or person here. Because I assure you Mr. Wronski, that I do not like being fooled or swindled. The add said that only two people will live here, no more no less.”
 
"Oh, right, yeah," Paul said bashfully. He fidgetted a second then backed up down the hall. "My, uh, my bedroom is down the hall, right there, " he said, pointing to the correct door. "The bathroom is right there at the end of the hall, as well. Water closet straight, the bath on the left." He slid open the door next to him and walked into the living room. The door was a nice, neat little pocket door that slid right into the wall and hid. "Here is the living room. I don't like to keep the door closed, so it's usually open. It gets dark in the hallway. I don't like the dark. I, uh, trip." He looked at her humbly, as if hoping she wouldn't make fun of him. Then he pulled himself together and smiled as he walked farther into the living room.

"That's the dining area right there," he said, indicating the surprisingly nice table, complete with flowers in a vase and four chairs. "The kitchen is right through there. I put in a nice island, myself, the kind that rolls so you have better access." He smiled proudly at her, wiggling his eyebrows as if he'd just told her he normally drove a Porche instead of a Toyota.

He still hadn't answered her people question. He was hoping she'd forget with the tour. Such a stupid slip of the tongue! How was he supposed to explain things? Oh, this was so awkward. Instead, he headed into the kitchen, leaving the door open, and began bustling about to get the spinach puffs on a plate to serve to his guest. Other good smells wafted from the kitchen.
 
"Oh, right, yeah," The man squirmed and his smile wavered. Asha let out a deep breath. She still had control. “My, uh, my bedroom is down the hall, right there. The bathroom is right there at the end of the hall, as well. Water closet straight, the bath on the left." Asha followed the man and noted the key areas. The place was relatively big but separated into small nice, comfortable places.

“Quaint.” Asha smiled as she observed.

"Here is the living room. I don't like to keep the door closed, so it's usually open. It gets dark in the hallway. I don't like the dark. I, uh, trip." Asha caught his gaze and recognized the pleading look. Memories of dark nights when she held someone with that same look, flooded her. The way Asha’s bright fire danced along her palms, illuminating everything around them. Asha looked away from the man, the gaze, the memories.

“Will do.” She promised.

"That's the dining area right there. The kitchen is right through there. I put in a nice island, myself, the kind that rolls so you have better access.” Asha blinked at the man’s excitement. It was unusual for someone to find something so subtle and homey, as a great achievement. Though, it spoke volumes that of all the things he prized, it was what he made from his own hands that mattered to him. The small respect he gained from that though, was used for Asha to ignore how he did not answer her question about the we in his previous statement. She was satisfied for now. Especially since there were smells coming from the kitchen, making her stomach rumble and her heat die.

“Thank you, for the,” Asha stopped talking as soon as she entered the kitchen. The man was putting some odd pastry things on a plate, and they smelled divine. Her stomach squeezed and before she could stop herself, she was grabbing one and scarfing it down. “MMMMHHHHHMMM!” Asha moaned as she wolfed down another one. After the third one, she froze and her heat came back, but this time it was internal. “I, I apologize, Mr. Wronski. I, um,” Asha wiped her face and straightened her jacket. “It seems that I was hungrier than I believed and your refreshments are, more than satisfactory.”

Asha quickly turned and sat in a chair in the dining area. She let her hair hide her face as she looked down at her hands. Her inner flame grew as shame came over her. Her father and grandfather always told her that her hunger was her downfall. To let this man see it so early, she was a disgrace.
 
Paul stared as she gulped down three spinach puffs without pause. She liked them? She liked them! And she was starving! Oh dear, the poor thing. He watched as pride and satisfaction welled within him. It was good to see a woman with a good appetite! Then she stopped and stood as if she'd run into something horrible. OH NO!! Were the puffs cold in the middle? Had he not gotten the salt properly mixed? WHAT??

“I, I apologize, Mr. Wronski. I, um,” Asha wiped her face and straightened her jacket. “It seems that I was hungrier than I believed and your refreshments are, more than satisfactory.”

He turned and watched her, absolutely bewildered as she hurried away out the kitchen and into the dining room where she sat and hid her face in her hands. Oh dear. That poor thing. He looked down at his spinach puffs. You could almost mistake them for muffins thanks to their shape, although he didn't know of any muffins that had green stuff coming out of four little holes in the top, except maybe on Saint Patrick's day. He nudged one carefully. Was it the spinach puffs' fault? Or maybe she had food issues.

DING!

He brightened and went to the oven. He pulled something out, adjusted the plating, fixed a few things, then proudly bore it out into the dining room. "I'm glad you liked the spinach puffs, but they were only the appetizer!" he said with a bright grin. He set down the small black roasting pan and turned it to present it to Asha as if she was a guest of honor, which, in a way, she was. The sizzling, golden-brown chicken with perfectly crips skin sat proudly on a bed of roasted, golden-topped, sliced cabbage. Simple, yet it steamed and dripped alluringly.

He dashed back into the kitchen and returned with the leftover spinach puffs, crispy fried potato pieces, sundried tomato stuffed mushrooms, and a warm mushroom salad with hazelnuts. He set everything on the table with a flourish, everything perfectly plated on white dishes. He brought out a glass pitcher of water last of all and two glasses. The table was already set for two, and he filled Asha's water first.
 
DING!

Asha jumped at the bright sound. Soon more delicious smells wafted through the air. Her mouth watered and she squirmed in her seat. The thread of dignity that was left in her kept her in her seat. To help she focused on the man. He moved around the kitchen expertly and swiftly, as if it was his element. Then he was coming towards her, the smell from before following him. Asha sat on her hands to prevent another humiliating episode.

"I'm glad you liked the spinach puffs, but they were only the appetizer!" Asha barely heard him. Her attention solely on the small black roasting pan. Coming towards her was a sizzling, golden-brown chicken with crisp skin, on a bed of roasted sliced cabbage. Her heart pounded at the sight and she bit her lip. She needed to eat this man’s food, NOW.

But, men always take the first bite. She already disgraced herself before. Her honor was at stake and to regain it she will wait for him, or drag him to his seat and force it into his mouth, before she took a bite. She looked for him to see him in the kitchen again.

“Mr,” Asha froze as he came out with more food. He placed the multiple small dishes on the table proudly. Her heart skipped a beat as something indescribable and warm fueled her at the sight of the food. Her face became hot from the feeling. Water entering her glass made her blink back to reality. She grabbed the man’s wrist. “Sit and eat. Now.”
 
Paul looked down at Asha's incredibly hot hand in surprise. "Er, right, okay," he agreed, shocked by her commanding tone. He moved to his seat willingly and sat down (the chair creaked a little at his weight). He raised his water glass to her. "As the French people say, "Bon Appetite!" he said cheerfully. "It means 'good appetite. Funny how their word for appetite and ours are the same, isn't it?" He gave her an utterly clueless grin of delight.

He started serving the chicken, slicing it apart expertly and offering the various parts for Asha to choose before serving himself. Poultry was difficult to cook. Too often it came out dry and bland, but this chicken was dripping with juices! Juices that then helped to flavor the cabbage. "Help yourself, Ma'am, ladies first," he grinned. "My mama always taught me the lady gets the first bite so she can tell you what you did wrong right off." His booming laugh filled the apartment.
 
"Er, right, okay," Asha was pleased when the man followed her orders. Her gaze followed him unblinkingly, not even as the chair he sat in creaked. He raised his glass in a toast. She did the same. "As the French people say, ‘Bon Appetite!’ It means 'good appetite’. Funny how their word for appetite and ours are the same, isn't it?" Asha blinked as a snort left her. She sipped her water to force down her sudden urge to smile. It was the man’s cheer and utter lack of common knowledge that had soften her control. Or the food. It was definitely the food.

Again, Asha found herself impressed by this man’s expertise in everything culinary. He perfectly cut and served her the correct dark meat pieces she requested. Then as he served those pieces, they dripped with a drooling juice. If he worked as an executive or sous chef in a high-end restaurant, she would not be surprised. He quickly served himself and sat down. Asha folded her hands in her lap, and squeezed them tightly as she waited for him to take a bite.

"Help yourself, Ma'am, ladies first. My mama always taught me the lady gets the first bite so she can tell you what you did wrong right off." Asha blinked as the man laughed. There was no malice in the laughter, just joy at a memory from long ago. Envy hit Asha again, this time deeper. Not only did this man have size against her, he had a past full of laughter. Asha looked to her lap and breathed in deeply.

“I apologize Mr. Wronski,” Fear and shame quieted her voice as she spoke. “I do not mean to dishonor your traditions but I cannot eat till you do.” With her shoulders back she looked back to Mr. Wronski and used her family’s pride to add volume to her voice. “My family has raised that the host and man of the house,” Asha bowed her head towards him. “Must always take the first bite.”
 
"Oh, I see," Paul said slowly. That was an interesting tradition, but he really did not mind who ate first as long as they ate before it got cold. He went after the stuffed mushrooms first, chomping one in a single bite before turning to the salad. "Eat, please!" he pleaded. "I hope you like it."

He tried to watch her covertly. Would she like it? Would she hate it? She liked his spinach puffs! But that didn't mean she'd like everything, and GASP! what if she was allergic to something? He forgot to ask! Of course, he couldn't really ask before she got here, but he could have checked before serving her. Oh, dear, what would Mama say if she knew he served a stranger without checking for allergies? And Papa would just roll his eyes. He tried not to stare nervously,
 
The moment the man finished the stuffed mushroom, Asha dove for the chicken. She always craved protein, especially after she used her flames. Or after a long training session of heat manipulation, which she usually does to keep people away from her. Then with her sudden move, she had yet to eat lunch. So, now she was past starving, she was ravenous.

“MMMMHHHHHH,” Asha moaned as she chewed her chicken. Each bite she took spread a tantalizing juice across her tongue that cooled her fire to a settling warmth that melted her insides. Even when she ate cabbage, the juice still affected her as strongly. Excitement filled her as she went to try each dish.

“Mr.Wronski,” Asha gasped after a delectable bite of a stuffed mushroom. “How is it that everything is, sooooo good?” The food had rendered her unable to think as she finished the mushroom and reached another one of the pastries she had stuffed in her mouth. “OOOOHHH,” A part of her hated how, vulgar she sounded, but this food was much better than the oak oatmeal she was fed as a child. “And what is in these heavenly, spinach puffs, you call them?” Asha looked to him, to see that he had been staring at her. Her faced heated and she knew her cheeks darkened.
 
Paul lit up like the sun coming out from behind a cloud at her obvious enjoyment. "Oh, they aren't much," he said bashfully, stirring his salad with a fork. "Just spinach, a little garlic, feta cheese, and an egg... and of course, what really sells it," he leaned over as if imparting a secret, his eyes twinkling, "is the sesame seeds! Oh, wow! They just pop that flavor, don't they?'

He chuckled as he sat back. "I gotta say, I was really nervous cooking for you. I wasn't sure what you'd like or be allergic to or if you had any dietary restrictions, like if you were Jewish, but I just did my best and hoped! I am so relieved you like it! Can I get you anything else? More water, perhaps?"
 
Asha let out a breath as the man smiled and stirred his salad nervously. "Oh, they aren't much. Just spinach, a little garlic, feta cheese, and an egg... and of course, what really sells it, is the sesame seeds! Oh, wow! They just pop that flavor, don't they?' The man, Paul, had a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke.

“That, that is does.” Asha nodded and took a sip of her water, wanting to hide her returning smile. His chuckle caught her attention.

"I gotta say, I was really nervous cooking for you. I wasn't sure what you'd like or be allergic to or if you had any dietary restrictions, like if you were Jewish, but I just did my best and hoped! I am so relieved you like it! Can I get you anything else? More water, perhaps?" Asha put her glass down and shook her head.

“That is unnecessary. Please enjoy your cooking. As for my preferences,” Asha looked to her napkin and began fiddling with it. “I, I wouldn’t know. I had a strict diet growing up, and when I, left home, I did not dare to venture outside my diet.” Asha remembered the days after her outburst.

On her own eating anything besides meat, bread, and oak oatmeal was ludicrous. “Whenever I did, I felt,” She remembered the first time her hunger made her loose her control and she ate what was commonly known as fast food. It was good and heavy, making her flames feel heavy. That night they came out slowly and even her own movements felt heavier. She felt like a disgusting fat sweating pig.

“I felt disgusting. But your food,” Her flame begged to be let out, but not aggressively. It wanted to light something, warm something. “Makes me feel alive.” She looked up at him and smiled as she took a bite of salad. She closed her eyes, enjoying the crunch it made in her mouth.
 
Paul straightened proudly. "I'm glad you enjoy it! I'll be happy to cook dinners and sometimes lunches. I work as a cleaner at the zoo and occasionally as a personal trainer, but it's short hours, so I have a lot of free time. I make certain everything I cook is natural and local. It tastes so much better than if it's been sitting in a freezer truck all that time!"

He happily finished off his dinner and sat back. "Would you like some coffee or anything before dessert? I thought we could sit and talk about how we can split up the house and the chores and schedules."
 
Feeling satisfied, Asha pushed her plate away and nodded. “Some mint tea would be nice.” The darkness and roasted quality to coffee made her tongue itch from the strange fire used on the beans. Tea was rarely roasted and the herb quality soothed her flames. Mint was always a pleasant smell.

“And as for her chores and housework, you are correct in that it must be discussed. Especially since my job is not part-time such as yours.” Both of them, but she figured that her other job would not hinder her personal life since she was still having, problems with exposure and the how-to of it all.
 
Paul rose and started to clean up. "I don't think I have mint tea, but I do have peppermint. Will that do? I can get mint tea tomorrow." He bore everything into the kitchen, pleased with how little food there was left. Oh, there was still plenty for a lunch or two, but Asha had put quite a dent in things. He set things down on the counter to put away later and went to the cupboard.

"I also have a very refreshing lavender tea?" he called as he put the kettle on.
 
“Peppermint will suffice,” Asha said as she stood up and went to the sink. “And I will be doing the dishes.” The order was given with a glare at Paul as she filled the sink with cold water. Logically it made sense for her to wash things at home. She would be able to heat the water faster and longer than any plumbing system.

She collected the dirty dishes and put them in the water. Her flames sparked quickly as she put her hands in the water. In a matter of seconds, the water was steaming. She used the sponge and dish soap nearby to wash the dishes spotless, and then she washed them again. Just to ensure that it was done right.

“And please do not worry yourself about the mint tea. Peppermint and Lavender tea will be sufficient.” She spoke, but she was focused on the dishes.
 
Paul didn't try to disuade her from the dishes. He didn't care much for doing dishes, himself, but he didn't mind it. If someone else wanted to do it, then fine by him! He glanced at her as he helped to collect the dirty dishes. Oh, looked like she had cold water. He was about to say something when he realized his chicken was rather delicately balanced on the edge of the counter and hurried to remedy that. When he turned around, the water was steaming hot. Huh. He must have been mistaken.

"I don't mind getting whatever you'd like," he told her, pulling his eyes away from the water. "Tea is a small thing in the, uh, grand scheme of shopping." He finished putting things in containers and stacking them in the fridge. Perfect fit! Nothing left out!
 
“Though if I want it, I should be the one to get it.” Asha wiped the last dish furiously. “Especially if it is, how did you put it, a small thing in the grand scheme of shopping.” Asha flicked the water off her hands and raised the heat around her to dry her hands and dishes. She turned back to Paul.

“Which also brings up another topic we should discuss. What will our house rules be? And the consequences for breaking them. Such as tonight, if we ever eat together, you must eat first. If I take the first bite, then I shall,” Asha tapped her chin. “Not have dessert or be subject to a fine of your choosing.” Those seemed like reasonable punishments to Asha. Much smaller than the katas and hours of meditation she would be forced to do back home. She had a feeling this man did not know of such punishments.

Though to make something official, a contract was needed. She looked around the dining area. “Do you have a notebook and a pen so that we can write these things down?”
 
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