Writing Prompt

Her boyfriend has always been a bit of an… anarchist, some might say. The police call him an anti-social criminal, but he prefers anarchist. Protests, riots, stealing from big corporations, whatever he can do to tick off the police and any other government agency he can get his hands on. Of course, acting this way has a few… consequences. One of which is being hunted constantly by police.

“Didn’t know stealing was illegal, officer,” he’d say smugly everytime they caught him, and every time, she would swoop in to help him away. Her true name is unknown, but she is known by many. To some, she is a hero, someone who protects the innocent, to others, she is an overzealous vigilante getting in the way of police work. The second option tends to be popular among police, so she is also wanted too. God knows what for. Her criminal record seems to extend every time it is read out.

But most people call her Tempest. A gorgeous woman with the powers of the wind. Nobody knows her true identity. Renna Gale. Ordinary woman with an ordinary job and an overall ordinary life alongside her gorgeous boyfriend, Finn Kennedy. A very basic name for a very complicated man. The man who Tempest just so happens to drag away from police every day.

Of course, Finn doesn’t know this. God knows how he would react if he found out his bog-standard girlfriend was actually a crazy-cool superhero. She keeps her identity to herself and she’s fine with that. Her boyfriend just so happens to be saved by a superhero every time he’s in trouble. Naturally, he’s curious of why this superhero has such a special interest in him, but he isn’t very bright. He usually just shrugs it off and goes on with his day. It’s good for both of them.

But Tempest doesn’t always get there in time.

Two riots have broken out at the same time, and Finn is in one of them, but she can’t find him anywhere. She wracks her brain, trying to remember where he should be, but she can’t find it. Weighing her options, she decides to just deal with both riots at the same time, swooping from fight to fight to break them up and put the city back to normal.

Ten minutes of this, ten whole minutes, and she still hasn’t found Finn. Oh god, this is bad. She feels her palms starting to sweat, her flight becoming unsteady. Usually he’s right at the centre of these things, but she hasn’t seen him once. Not a glimpse of his bright orange hair or those chunky platform boots that he insists on wearing everywhere. No sign of him.

Has he already been arrested? Is he hurt? Is he in a fight? The questions run through her mind, throwing themselves at her like a hurricane throws debris, sirens going off in her head as her eyes skim through the crowd for anyone who looks like Finn.

Then she spots it. That carrot coloured hair. He’s in an alleyway just past the riots, talking to someone. Talking to someone…

Tempest lowers herself closer to the alleyway, trying to get a better look at the person with Finn. Blue shirt, black pants, funny hat. Oh wait, that’s a police officer. Oh no.

Just as she goes to swoop in and grab Finn, the police officer unholsters his gun, and…

                                   **_BANG! _**

The officer sprints away before anyone can see his face, leaving Finn slumping against the wall.

_No. No, no, no. _Freezing in the air, she stares at the scene before her. _I need to help. I need to save him. _She thinks, hands trembling as she falls out the air and sprints over to him, pushing through the crowd of people, all of them unaware of what is going on just beside them. Ignorant people.

Clammy and cold with shock, Tempest finally makes it to her boyfriend, seeing his sunset hair droop into his chest, a pale, freckled hand coming to cover the blood dripping from his stomach. She falls to her knees beside him, scooping him into her chest.

Blood trickles down his shirt, staining his white tank top red. His perfect skin pales to the same ivory as his teeth, becoming clammy as he starts to writhe around in pain.

Hazy and pained, his eyes drift up to Tempest, a tiny little smile painting his face. “You’re a bit late this time, super,” he mumbles, voice strained but still sarcastic. He always manages to make the worst situations positive. It’s something Renna always loved about him.

“I know I’m late,” she pants, holding pressure on the wound. “I’ll get you help. I promise.”

She considers flying away to find an ambulance, but he would surely bleed out alone if she did. He doesn’t have much time left, she knows that much.

He winces in pain, as if he can read her mind and understands his dire circumstances, and whispers, “I want… I want my girlfriend. I wanna see her face one more time.”

Tears well in her eyes as he asks for her. But not really her. He’s asking for Renna. Renna isn’t here right now, and it’s not like she can reveal her identity…

But she can. He’s dying. He won’t tell anyone.

“She’s right here, Finn. I’m right here,” she murmurs, voice trembling as she peels off her mask and rests her forehead against his. “I’m right here. You aren’t alone.”

Shocked, his eyes widen, glossing over each of Renna’s features in disbelief. “R-Renna… Renna I’m sorry. I don’t wanna leave you alonw, but…” He trailed off, losing strength by the second.

“I know, baby, I know.” Tears start streaming down her face as she kisses him softly on the lips. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here in time. I couldn’t find you. I wasn’t… I wasn’t fast enough.”

Limp and covered in his own blood, Finn’s hand reaches up shakily to cup her cheek. “It isn’t your fault. Just… stay with me.” He leans up for another kiss, this one softer as he continues to lose strength.

Cold, wet tears start barrelling down her face. “I don’t want you to go. It isn’t fair. I should’ve been faster, I should’ve- I should’ve—“

He shuts her up with another kiss, a single tear falling towards his ear. “It’s ok, Ren. It’s ok. It isn’t your fault. Don’t cry.” His hand wraps around her arm. “Be strong for me, ‘kay? You gotta die sometime. I’m just leaving earlier than most.”

Slowly, his eyes start to shut. “I’ll see you later, baby. I love you,” he murmurs weakly before his eyes completely shut.

Squeezing him against her chest, she sobs into his hair. “I love you too. I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

I was known by many, but only to a certain extent, and innumerably questioned. Everyone had a vague sense of my presence, wether they chose to accept it or not, was their choice, but ultimately a part of my plan. Many call me evil, since I am often misunderstood because of the knowledge that many can not comprehend in this life. Some will never see that all that I have saved and torn has been for good. I am framed continually because many want my glory for themselves. I truly need no introduction. The rustling of leaves on the trees from spring to mid fall, the call of birds of all colors, shapes, and sizes, the whistle of the wind, and the feeling of it, sometimes quiet, sometimes harsh, but almost always there in the silence, the thunder and the rain, which are a blessing to some, but a curse when there is excess or when it is lacking, the waves of a crystal blue ocean against the soft golden sand and all the life inside it that watch this world as it slowly turns, the animals that are in wild areas across all continents as well as the animals in zoos, research centers, hospitals, vet clinics, shelters, homes, and maybe even in your home now, the graves and gravestones that are manmade hold humans of the past, some who lived like you, ate, walked, talked, hoped, loved, worked, all in similar ways, some who have lived different lives from you, some who have ended their own lives for reasons that were out of their hands, some for reasons that were in their hands, some who passed in horrific events, some who simply die because of old age, some who die of diseases, cancer, pneumonia, and others, some who die (and many say these are truly the heaviest caskets to carry, are children) are young adults, children, and babies, millions, if not trillions of babies don’t even have graves because they are aborted, the people that are alive jow, some living in the busiest cities, others living in remote places, and som in between, some working jobs, some homeless, some going to school, or college, some without the ability, some with mental illness, or trauma, some with what they believe to be perfect lives, some with families, many with friends, some without anyone at all, some are inspiring and helping others, while others are unable to, or have lost their will to, some who are on disability, or social security, or welfare, or struggling financially, some who have more money than they will ever spend, some who travel the world, and some who never make it out of their area, those who are from all races, and all religions - this is what the world is made up of, the animals, plants, and goods that are here, those of the past and their memories, those of the present and their hopes and dreams, in short, every living and non-living thing either has, does, or will call out my glory themselves saying “Yahweh, Yahweh, Glory to the Lamb who had been slain.” I have revealed myself in all and will ultimately be recognized for all. I reveal myself daily through my acts of grace, mercy, and love for all, both the just, and the unjust.

Esme stared at the wall, her focus sharp and narrowed on the purple paisley wallpaper. "I'll do it," she whispered. I wouldn't have caught the quiet words if my hearing wasn't so sensitive. I didn't even mean to listen this time, I was lamely pouring hot water into a mug, keeping my hands busy. As if tea would make anything better.

"I'll find her and kill her." This time Esme's spoke louder, her words slicing through the grief in the room. Kyle reached for her hand, but she pulled away, her eyes still locked on the empty wall. "Es," he tried again, wiping the wet streaks from his own cheeks with one hand and wrapping the other around Esme's shoulders. This time she pushed him hard and spun around. Her eyes blazed with so much hate that I almost crumpled to the floor again. I had no more composure. My body wasn't listening to my brain. I wanted to disintegrate into the linoleum, melting into a toxic waste pool. I might as well, that was all I was worth now - all I could ever offer the people I loved the most.

"Don't," Esme flicked the word off of her tongue. "I'm not going to listen any more. Everyone is going to wipe this under the rug, you know they will. Give it two days and TikTok will go back to saying how wonderful she is for our city. They'll give her another commendation or a parade, and fund more taxpayer money into her research lab. Meanwhile - " her voice finally cracked as she stabbed her finger at the door. "Meanwhile, my father's torso is being torched in the morgue while his limbs are being sent to some government facility I will never see. They'll send me ashes to bury which will only represent half of him and I'm supposed to take the hush money and be grateful."

She practically jogged into the back bedroom and came back, lugging a black bag with both hands. "I'm over this bullshit. Nighthawk is going to answer for the people who are always collateral for her greater good. No one should have the power to decide who is worth saving and who is not."

She was right. I didn't have that power. If I did, her father wouldn't be dead. But she didn't understand. She didn't know how much he has sacrificed to save her.

Esme hastily pulled her hair back into a ponytail and unzipped the bag. I knew what was in there, but I didn't want to dwell on it. I felt so queasy I could barely stay rooted by the counter, watching her steadfast determination, but not able to speak. I knew as soon as I opened my mouth, everything would come out into the light, and it needed to, but I wasn't ready. I didn't want to lose my best friend yet.

"This isn't going to fix anything Essie," Kyle was desperately trying to make eye contact with Esme as she pulled out items and dropped them onto the couch. An armored vest, three knives, an assortment of government issued identification tags, all fell unceremoniously to the floor. I wasn't even supposed to know about them. If I was halfway mentally engaged I should be asking her questions about how she had these things. But I was tired of this charade. I didn't want to keep hurting her.

Kyle was still speaking, "You'll only end up hurting yourself, maybe other people. Risking your own life won't bring him back. You know that's not what he would want you to do."

"No," she said coldly, still sorting through deadly items with casual disinterest. "It's not what he would want. It's what I want."

That's what broke me, seeing her complete disconnect. She was back in that place I had worked for years to drag her out of. She was iced over and careless of her own life, picking the best way to end her pain - end me, though she didn't know it.

I choked on my own voice when I opened my mouth. The strangled sound caught Kyle's attention, but Esme didn't notice. "Stop," I croaked.

At that moment, she found what she was looking for. A small, silver cylinder was clutched in her hand. She held it too tightly, my heart was pounding so hard in my stomach that I almost threw up. Her eyes caught mine for a second before she rotated the cylinder horizontally, studying the trigger on the bottom, making sure the safeguard was turned on. I hadn't seen it for three years, since it was last safely locked in my lab's vault.

"Please," I struggled to make my voice louder. "Stop. I need to explain."

Both of them turned then, giving me their full attention. Esme wasn't looking at the weapon anymore, but she still held it tightly. She didn't notice that she was pointing it at me.

I peeled my fingers off of the counter and angled my palms towards my friends. I took a step back and commanded my body to draw in breath.

"Please," a single tear slipped out then. "I love you. I need you to know that first."

He told her everything. He hadn’t meant to, but once it started coming out, the words seemed to come ever faster. He finished, and he waited anxiously as she sinply stared at him.

She looks at me, not listening when I say she needs to get somewhere safe. My heart aches for it.

«Go with me!» she shouts at me, not understanding why I refuse to follow her.

«Listen! Go there, I will be there soon too. Just go!» I shout back.

We are standing alone in the middle of nowhere, and I see the firm face in front of the view full of dust. She won’t listen. She won’t leave me.

I have no choice. My voice lowers.

«I am the hero, my love. I am the one who has been saving the city. Please listen to me and go. I will find you after and tell you everything. I promise»

Her face pales. She freezes. For a few seconds I feel the hesitation from her body, but then she kisses me and runs away, wiping the watery eyes.

She understood me. She trusts me, and that is what will save us.

He was dismantling the bomb.

Tick.

Time was passing.

Tock.

As far as he could tell-

Tick.

(Damn that insufferable ticking.)

Tock.

As far as he could tell. He had to tell her.

Tick.

Or, show her, at least. Compromise his secret.

Tock.

His hands slipped on the wirings.

Tick

He'd have to, not just to her but to the world.

Tock.

He readjusted his tools.

Tick.

Not that it mattered, of course. Not really.

Tock.

She mattered to him. Far more than his secret.

Tick.

And he'd rather she find out, first. The easy way.

Tock.

He pulled out the plastic explosive itself and severed the wires going into it.

Tick.

He searched through the play-dough-like substance.

Tock.

He pulled the cogs out of the mechanism in a fury. He tossed the disarmed bomb onto the ground and stomped on it.

The insufferable ticking stopped.

He locked eyes with her. Scared. In the corner of the elevator.

It had been... three years, now.

Justin remembered it well.

Standing outside the door to building 110, first day of classes at the university.

The doors refused to open.

Right beside him was a woman. Seemingly his age.

"EE 5?" He asked. It was the name of the class.

"Yep."

She popped the 'p'.

"Classes... do start today, right?" Maybe he read the announcement wrong. Maybe it was a different Monday.

"I take it you didn't read the syllabus," she said, easily.

Despite himself, he grinned. "I take it you didn't either."

"Nope."

Here, too, she popped the 'p'.

He extended his hand, "well, I don't suppose I could venture to introduce myself."

She frowned at him. "No. You can't."

"Oh. Okay." He supposed it was up to her.

The frown deepened, and Justin wondered what he'd done wrong. He began to rack his brain as his lips began to form an apology. "I was being sarcastic. Of course you can introduce yourself."

Justin blinked.

"I see," he said, "sarcasm."

"So?"

"My name is Justin." He said at last. "And you?"

"I'm Camille,"

"Pleasure to meet you."

She smiled strangely, as if confused. "And you," she said at last, then, "has anyone told you you're strange? You act like you're from a different planet."

"I am from a different planet." And he had no idea what possessed him to say that.

She opened her mouth. Then closed it again, and laughed. "You're teasing me!" She seemed quite gleeful. Then, a moment later, she added, "oh, so you do know what sarcasm is!"

"Dearest."

Camille was huddled against the side of the elevator.

"Everything will be alright."

She nodded. "Yeah. Just…"

He started the only way he knew how. Words he'd said before.

"I am from a different planet."

And suddenly a silver of laughter escaped from her lips. Just a short one that fought its way through terror to be there, but there nonetheless.

"Fifteen years ago, my spacecraft entered the earth. Only I survived, as a little child. Nowadays I'm known as a hero of sorts, here."

He could see her putting the pieces together.

"You didn't tell me."

"You thought I was being sarcastic. I wasn't. But I let you believe that. Because I was scared."

"I thought you were being sarcastic, but not once..."

She trailed off.

"Three years, and you didn't tell me."

"I'm sorry." And he meant it.

"Only now, that it's necessary, now, that you don't have a choice-"

"I had a choice. I could wait for things to go wrong. I could have gone for The Mollusk. But I went to save you. I knew where this would end up. I probably could have let the bomb squad save you, or something. But I didn't. I went to save you."

"Don't."

"Dearest."

"Don't."

"We need to get out. I understand if you don't want to be my friend anymore or-"

"Of course I'm still your friend. Don't be an idiot." And she seemed even angrier that he had mentioned that.

"Let's go." And he extended a bubble of air around them as he pried open the elevator door, letting the seawater in.

Slowly, they rose up to the surface. He could't hear what she was saying. He was concentrating on keeping control of the water, pumping air down to their bubble.

"I'm sorry." He said one more time, as they burst through the top.

He could hear helicopters and new agents up above. People lowered rope. Firefighters dived in and helped them up. He knew it was only a matter of time before they figured out what happened down there. Before they figured out who he was.

But one person knew, now. And his heart was that much lighter.

He knew they'd have to talk about it. He was worried about that.

But somehow, it wasn't worse than knowing she'd find out eventually.

Six of Sigil doesn't know mercy, doesn't forgive and never forgets. He reams through towns, ripping the weeds of insolent men out from under them. More known as tale than an actual man, Six of Sigil is more of a hero to the smaller folk than the lawless land that cradles them in its deprecated palms ever could be. The man is tall, pale, wears garb of ink-black leather with a wide brimmed hat of the same make, and his face is riddled with sigiled scars. Some folk say he was an old mage's creation cursed with archaic abilities, others say he's a lost knight from days of old risen to save the people once more. There are many renditions of the man's past, but one thing is certain; Six of Sigil is a merciless man with only a drive for vengeance left in his soul. So when said Six of Sigil finds himself sitting in a bar before a girl of maybe fifteen seasons with messy hair and a recent black eye still aching, he wonders where he went wrong. "So you'll do it?" The girls face firm with determination. Six sighs long and hard before taking his hat off and folding his arms on the table. "When I said I'd meet with a buyer over a job involving the heist of a Syndicate cell, had I known said buyer was just a child wanting her puppy back-" The girl stands, the chair screeching behind her. "She's not a puppy, Mira is a Lycan! And she is in danger!" Six slides his hands down his face. "Kid, I'm sorry," The man grabs his hat, lifts himself from the table and begins to leave the bar. "I can't." The girl growls in frustration and sprints in front of Six, spreading her arms out in attempt to stop him. "You need to help me, and I am going to pay I swear." "Now why would I need to help you, girl?" "Because.. I'm from Naiad. And I am going to bring life back to this land and the only way I can do that is with Mira!" The girl's face is streaming with tears now. And Six's face is twisted in strain worthy of a few new gray hairs popping up later. "No you're not. Naiad is thousands of years old and dead. You'd be part fish or something too. Please just hire someone else and let me go." The supposed fish-girl then grabs Six's arm and everything melts away. The girl's form blurs then refocuses as a husk of the human girl but now blue, gilled and somehow sparkling. "See, I am of Naiad. You are the first human to see one again in eons." "Terrific.." Six of Sigil might just die here and now.

|| || ||

Definitely went off prompt but I just let it happen lol.

Dark matter held a young girl hostage in his evil layer the girl was gaged”mmh” she muffled as she struggled to break free from the roof plaster came curmbling down “ so nice of you to show thunder” said dark matter “ ya this time I I brought friends meet aching and pain “ he said that as he lifted up his fist “ I see but this time you will feel the pain” dark matter went and turned on a camera that broad casted to the entire metropolis he held up a dark crystal next to the girl her eyes turned black and tried to scream in pain” No amara! Leave her alone you fowl creature what do you want.” Thunder demanded “oh well I am so glad you asked I want you to chain yourself up right over there and I will give you further instructions “ said dark matter thunder hesitated but new it was the only way to save his girlfriend so he did as dark matter requested he chaine himself up he wore a look of despair the girl managed to break free but was stopped by dark matter and the crystal her eyes again flooded with darkness “sit darling.” Said dark Matter “yes’s “ said amara blankly “don’t call her darling” thunder reprimanded “ I can say whatever I want you see anyone can be subdued” said dark matter “ now reveal your identity to the whole world or else you will never see amara again” he said as he said that amara broke free from the spell and pleaded “ pleas don’t do this you can’t reveal your identity “ she begged and begged but it came to a conclusion “ I have to I am mark Robinson “ said thunder dark matter laughed maniacally as Amara and mark were trapped in the jaws of defeat then a sudden flash of lightning came and marks superpowers and suit dissapeared and was left with a regular day outfit then bright red flame came reword them and swept over them the layer disappeared only what was left was a pile of ash

I didn’t expect the last words I’d say to him would be the one thing I swore I’d never tell him.

It was hard, living the way I did. But when Marcus came into my life, for the first time in my life, I felt like I’d be able to have a life outside of school and a crime-fighting vigilante.

“My name is Tanya,” I told him in the line of _Café Belle _- a coffee shop that was my saving grace between kicking butt at night and law school in the evenings - after he kindly offered to pay for very caffeinated coffee. I’d stupidly left my wallet and things in the pockets of my pants after I had to hastily change outfits and leave in order to catch a member of the cartel I’ve been trying to take down. He had seen me about to panic when I realized I left my money back at my apartment.

“I’m Marcus.” His smile showed all of his white teeth. God, how I loved that smile. “I’m glad I could help. I’m a police officer, so I sort of understand the necessity of coffee in the mornings.”

I am wary of police officers. They’d always get in my way during the nights I had to put on my costumes to fight, not to mention the fact they thought of her as a villain. So no, before I met Marcus, I’d never liked a single police officer in my life. The day that changed was when he smiled.

“Yes. Well, thank you, Marcus.” We both stood there in silence as I offered no small talk and he not-so-subtly studied my face.

“I’m sorry, um, I don’t want to, like, be disrespectful or anything,” he stammered as he blushed, “but do you mind if I get you my number or something? I mean, of course you can say no, but- well you’re really pretty and-.”

“Yes!” I blurted out before I could stop myself. God, I was so stupid. Marcus was a police officer, and that’s a big no-no for a vigilante. But the poor man just bought me coffee, and he seemed nice, if not a little awkward, and… his smile was so pretty.

_It’s not like we’ll ever be something, _I reasoned with myself as I handed his phone to a blushing and fumbling Marcus. That was the thing I kept repeating to myself as I punched in my numbers on Marcus’s phone.

Of course, I was wrong.

It was only a couple of dates later that I realized I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Marcus.

It is hard to pinpoint when I fell in love with him. Maybe it was because I fell in love with the different parts of him. Of course, I fell in love with his big, toothy smile first. Then, I fell in love with the way he complained about soggy chips. And then I fell in love with his excitement over small gifts, and the way he loved animals, and his dream to save people, and the way he said my name (Ton-yah, with a bit of a Russian accent that he picked up from his father).

Yes, I loved him. More than I should.

Because I knew I hurt him when he’d see me bruised and scraped from a previous night.

(“Tanya,” he’d say while brushing my scrapes on my cheeks or knuckles. “How did this happen?”

“My martial arts class,” I’d lie through my teeth. Marcus was not stupid. I think he knew I was lying to him. Nonetheless, he’d smile his beautiful yet saddened smile, and I’d tell myself that it was worth it and that I’d never need to tell him.)

And I hurt him when he asked if he could move in with me, and I bluntly said no without reasoning why. Of course, he was very respectful and understanding about the fact that I didn’t want to move in with him, but I could tell he was hurt because of his eyes and smile.

I wanted to move in with him - God, I did - but he couldn’t see the bloody shirts I throw in the trash every week. He couldn’t see the way I snuck out of my apartment to beat people to the ground. That part of me was not deserving of Marcus; that part deserved jail and Hell. So I swore to keep my lives separate from each other. Maybe, if Marcus never knew, I would be able to delude myself into believing that I could be good for him.

I pretended that I wasn’t bad for him, that he’d love me despite who I am. I pretended that the burn of the hidden truth in my mouth didn’t change the words I said to him. I’d like to think I was good for him. Who knows? Maybe in another life, I could’ve been.

I woke up that morning to a knock on my door and a bleeding cut from a knife. I groaned softly as I sleepilu raised my hand to cover the sun that was spilling from the hastily opened windows of my apartment. There was another knock at my door. I cursed and quickly sat up, wincing from the sting of my wound.

“One minute!” I yelled while quickly pulling a long strip of cloth from my nightstand and wrapping it around my stomach where my cut was. I pulled a dirty shirt from my floor and rushed to put it on. Carefully yet hastily, I stumbled to my front door. When I swung my door open, I was greeted by the most beautiful thing in the world. His smile.

“Hello, Tanya,” Marcus greeted me while handing me my coffee that he picked up from Cafè Belle. My heart warmed at the sight of it.

“Hi, Marcus,” I replied. I took my coffee and thanked him by grinning gently and kissing his cheek.

He blushed and said, “Sorry I didn’t let you know I was coming. But I wanted to see you, and I know that you took a day off of school today.”

“I’m glad you came,” I said and motioned for him to come in.

Marcus noticed my obvious awkwardness when walking, and gently asked, “Martial arts?”

I hummed noncommittally. He gently took my arm and asked, “You’ll be okay?” With wide and worried eyes. I nodded.

He smiled sadly and walked over to my tiny kitchen where he pulled out the frozen burritos he bought for me a week ago. He threw two in the microwave and turned back to me after he set it for a minute.

“I’ll have to work late tonight.”

“Oh? Where at?”

“I’m guarding the docks tonight. Usually, they don’t need me down there, but I guess a cartel has been getting violent and they wanted more people to guard down there.”

I knew that cartel. I saw them last night when I had beaten up the second-in-command for information about who was in charge. I was so close to the answer, I felt it. But then, the man pulled out a hidden knife and slashed at my stomach. I had been quick enough to dodge, but the man pulled away and ran. I tried running after him, but the pain made me blank out and faint for a couple minutes. Stupid.

“Will you be okay?” I asked.

“Should be. The cartel is based further in the city, I guess they just wanted to be safer than sorry.”

I nodded. I knew all of this, of course, but it felt nice to hear someone say it. Then, the microwave beeped, and that was the end of that conversation.

“The dock is under attack!” I heard from a policeman’s radio. I was hidden in an alleyway with my cloth mask tied tightly round my face. I was previously searching for signs of the cartel and found alarmingly little evidence of their presence. But when I heard those words, nothing mattered to me anymore.

The docks. Marcus. __ __ I took off in the direction of the docks. _Too slow, too slow, _I was thinking. What if Marcus had gotten hurt? Oh, God. Please.

It took way to long to get there, even with the parade of police cars to lead the way. When I finally got there, I couldn’t see around the tall ambulances. In a panic, I snuck around tall containers in hopes to find Marcus. Please, let him be okay.

And then I saw him. Alive. Marcus was there, okay, and with the cartel’s second-in-command hands behind his back and pinned to the ground. I was filled with relief. And in my moment of stupidity, I moaned, “Thank God.”

At the shock of hearing a voice, Marcus whipped his head around to stare directly at me. And the cartel member, sensing a moment of weakness from Marcus, forcefully threw him off of him and drew his knife out.

I saw it before it happened, in slow motion. After being a vigilante for so long, my first instincts were to tackle and disarm. And so I did. I lunged for Marcus and knocked him back just enough so that the blade wouldn’t touch his skin. So why was I feeling blood?

Ahh, that’s why. It’s my blood. Before stumbling to the ground out of pain, I made sure to swiftly knock the cartel member out. After his head fell with a satisfying crack after hitting the ground, I turned to face Marcus and reassure myself he was okay.

And I turned to face the barrel of his gun.

“Y-you’re the vigilante,” he whispered, his voice shaky. The gun in front of me trembled.

“I am,” I replied, trying to keep the fear and the pain out of my voice. When the gun was shoved closer to my face, I slowly raised my gloves above my head.

“You’re the one that’s causing these problems.”

“I’ve only wanted to help.” My breath shook and I could feel my lungs rattle from the blood filling them.

“Well, you’re not!” Marcus yelled loudly and angrily. I was shocked. I’ve never heard him talk like that. “You’re the reason they came here today! You’re the reason they’re retailing.”

“I’m sorry,” I managed to gasp before the pain of the stab wound made my legs collapse.

I saw the shift of anger to concern on his face. “Hey, are you okay?” He asked, panicked.

“I’m sorry, Marcus.”

His eyes grew wider at the sound of his name. Tears began to well in his eyes. “H-how?”

I was filled with sudden clarity and peace. I wanted the mask to be gone. I wanted him to know who I was, all of me, even if it was too late. I slowly reached up to pull the mask off of my face and watched as the tears began to spill.

When my mask was finally gone, Marcus glanced one time at my face before falling to his knees and sobbing, “Tanya. No, please.”

I wiped his tears away as he yelled for help from the other officers. Pressing one hand to my wound, he said, “You’ll be okay.” I knew otherwise; I could feel my lungs fill with blood.

“I prayed to God that it wasn’t you,” he whined softly, and I wanted to reassure him and say I know, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t.

Instead, I said, “I love you.”

At that, Marcus sobbed in despair, mouth wide open with a hoarse cry and tears down his face. I didn’t like it at all. His mouth was made for a beautiful smile, not this.

“I love you too,” he cried.

I stared him a moment longer. My last thought was, “Please smile. I love your smile.” I don’t know if I said it out loud, but I hope I did.

Then I closed my eyes, and my last thought was him.

I hear a yell and turn to look, just in time to see a woman slip over the edge of the bridge we’re on. Not just any woman. Rose. My fiancée. The woman I loved, with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life.

Of course, saving her would be easy. At this height, she wouldn’t hit the ground for almost five seconds. Plenty of time to teleport to her, grab her, and move us both to safety. In all, a very typical rescue that I’m well practiced in. There’s just one catch.

I’m not in costume.

H.E.R.O. Law states that I am forbidden from using my powers while in civilian clothes under any circumstances. No one else is around, but there would be no way to hide my powers from her if I did this.

In this fraction of a moment, I have a decision to make. Face the high council and be striped of my title and place amongst active heroes, living as an outcast amongst my former peers, or lose the woman I love. A mercifully easy decision all things considered.

I rush to the ledge that I saw her tumble over and vault over the railing, spotting her mid fall. I quickly realize my hesitation cost me precious time, and she’s now much closer to the ground than I’d like. I will myself to her side, feeling the familiar rush as the world blurs around me, placing me beside her. I grab her tightly, supporting her head and neck to prevent any whiplash as I prepare to teleport us both. Through my focus in teleporting us both to safety, I hear a sickening crack as something made contact with the ground before we both shift upward.

In a well practiced maneuver, I had oriented us upside-down, allowing what was our downward momentum to instead launch us higher in the air. Then, at the peak of our movement, just before we started to fall again, I focus back on the bridge we both started on, giving us a safe spot to land.

I land on my feet, but find myself unable to balance properly, and fall over. Looking down, two questions are answered. That crack from before was my own leg hitting the ground, and the shattered bones in what used to be my shin were why I couldn’t stand properly.

I look over to Rose, ready to answer her questions. But she just silently stares at me, a look of surprise on her face. I decide to speak first, before the shock wears off and I start to feel the mess of my former leg.

“Yes. I am Zip. No, I couldn’t tell you. Yes, I’m sorry I lied to you. Yes, that does explain why my ‘work’ hours were so strange sometimes. No, I can’t introduce you to other heroes. Even if I wanted to, I don’t know their civilian identities. And yes, if you’ll have me, I still want to spend the rest of my life with you. That should cover the basics. Any other questions you have?”

She continues to look at me in silence. After a moment, she reaches into her bag and pulls out… is that a H.E.R.O. issued med kit? Why does she have one of those? Questions fly through my mind as she takes out a syringe and jabs it into my leg, flooding my system with a nano-bot swarm that will slowly start repairing the damage.

Then, for the first time since this started, her look of shock breaks into an amused smile. “Hello Zip” she says, holding up her hand. She snaps her fingers, and a small ball of fire materializes, covering just above her fingers. “I’m Ashe.”