Gravity has it pretty together. He's got a nice apartment with neighbors who don't mind him flying in and out at all hours and a superhero career that, while maybe not out of this world, keeps him busy and with enough of a following to crowdfund his living expenses. Until, of course, a strange man shows up hoping to be his sidekick.
Bruce doesn't seem like a bad guy (and he certainly looks good in tight clothes), but after he shows up Gravity finds himself suddenly getting trounced by villains he used to have no problem with. Is he just distracted by his growing attraction to Bruce, or is there something else going on that might explain why every villain suddenly has no problem defying Gravity?
“You don’t have any powers,” Gravity says. Figures. A shame, too, because there’s something about Bruce that he finds captivating. Hot as hell, really, but rule one of being a superhero is you don’t bring a normal human to a powers party.
“Not as such, no,” Bruce says, and Gravity is already rising, controlling the gravity around him to take to the air and make for the bank again.
“This is no place for games,” Gravity says, and he’s still close enough to see Bruce’s eyes narrow.
“Just because I don’t have powers doesn’t mean I’m useless,” he shouts as Gravity turns away, speed increasing. He’s wasted enough time. “Just don’t use your gravity powers on Velociter directly! He’s figured out how to compensate for being slowed down!”
But Gravity’s already turning his attention to the villain in the bank, to how grateful the city will be that he’s put another dangerous criminal behind bars again. There’s no defying Gravity, after all.
* * * *
It was definitely the distraction that allowed Velociter to get away. Definitely probably. Gravity stares at the newspaper in his hands. Gravity Too Low to Stop Downtown Bank Robbery the headline reads. Gravity tosses it across the room. Seriously, how was he supposed to know that Velociter had found a way around the trick that Gravity had used to catch him dozens of times in the past? Just because Bruce told him? Bruce was an idiot with a death wish, traipsing around after superheroes, thinking it was all as easy as a Saturday morning cartoon. Really, that outfit. That clueless manner. Those eyes. The way his ass looked in that tight, clinging fabric. How those lips would taste—
Gravity growls and stomps across the room, gives the newspaper a kick for good measure, sending it against the wall, scattering the pages. Great. And now he has a mess to clean up. He looks around. His Sanctum Sanctorum (A.K.A. his apartment in Capitol City) is not exactly spotless, and he’s tempted to just leave the paper where it sprawls. Not like he spends an awful lot of time there. The time he’s not out actively fighting crime is typically spent patrolling. Crowdfunding gets the rent paid, but his primary consideration in choosing his flat had been location -- and neighbors who wouldn’t notice someone flying in and out of the windows every day.
Of course, he might need to consider alternate housing if he can’t pull himself out of this slump he’s in. Perhaps something smaller, like a box in the park. Not that he’d ever been the biggest name in crime fighting, but he’d always done all right, supplemented his income with appearances at dedications and private parties where people liked to think it dangerous because at any moment a supervillain might arrive to attack him. Some people are just weird. His mind drifts back to Bruce. Weird isn’t really the worst thing, though ...
A beep from his phone snaps him out of his thoughts and in a second he’s checking. He’s got a new message on his phone.
Gorillord is attacking the zoo. Might want to get over here. -- Bruce
