"Jesus," blurted Michelle as the other girl's 'gun arm' went off. "Be careful. One of the other guys blew up a post-office truck. Nearly did the same to me."
She rubbed her temples, smearing complex pastel hues in the air where they churned and swirled, mimicking the vortex she was trying to think through.
"There were containers opened in the Redshift van that cracked open. When I got to the van, I had just enough time to see they were glowing before I blacked out. Doesn't take a huge jump of logic to figure that has something to do with our predicament."
Michelle surveyed the others there. "I don't know about you, but I'm not especially eager to show up on the nightly news as a super. I have a life. I have...things this would interfere with. There'll be tests...God only knows how long, or what will be involved."
"What I'm proposing is that, since the paramedics or firefighters or whoever's here hasn't found us yet, we keep this to ourselves. We tell them we just found the van, tried to help the people nearby, and...let the rest pass by unannounced. We should get checkups and everything, just to make sure there's no tumors, but there's no reason we have to wind up on page 1 over this."