The Johannesburg Museum of Superheroes and Supervillains was a complex of imposing structures, and the Mystic building was perhaps the most imposing of them all.
The sun beat down on it, and the building cast a long shadow. At the front there was a small stream of water floating in the air. You couldn’t tell exactly why it was floating, just as you couldn’t tell where the water was coming from. Instead the small stream looped in on itself, a watery infinity symbol hanging above people’s heads.
Three fancy prep kids named Raquel, Mac, and Joan made their way into the museum. They’d flown in during break to learn more about superhero history. But truth be told? They didn’t give much of a shit about superhero history. They were far more interested in screwing around and having fun.
They walked into the entrance of the museum, paid for their tickets, and began walking around. More than anything, they paid attention to each other: to their jokes, their looks, their stories, their everything. They didn’t give much of a shit about the exhibits. They barely noticed the wings of Fallen Angel, the Table of Metron, and Dr. Groove Man’s Glasses of Hypnosis.
They were even less cognizant of the red-headed girl sitting nervously on a bench, pretending to stare and the Medusa Matrix. In truth, she was more focused on the circuit board that was at the bottom of the wall to the side of the Matrix.
Likewise, the prep school kids were completely unaware of the frigid bitch wearing a gray baseball cap, who made her way quickly through the museum while trying to determine where all the cameras were.
There was a third figure the kids had noticed, though they’d chosen to ignore him. His name was Caine and he was wearing a tank top that said, “SHIT!” Sure enough, he was about to fuck shit up.