Hyrr – the hero of the three city walls; Maria, Rose, and Sina. Hyrr – the tall, Amazonian woman clad in the ebony, tight-fitting fighting cyber suit which had been specially tailored only for her. The black covered all of her lean legs, and over her feet were garnet boots which waited to taste the fury of battle. Her arms were completely covered as well, the material glistening under the sun like shiny leather, the small hexagonal atoms in the suit glimmering. Over her hands, up to her elbows, were wine-coloured gloves which hugged her fists snugly, ready to pack a mean punch. And who could forget her trademark facewear? Her eyes were covered by triangular, scarlet glasses which glinted whenever she turned towards a light.
Yes, this was the amazing Hyrr – brave, bold, dashing and charmi-
"Hey, I ran those thieves off for you, old man. Throw the money bag here already!" hissed Hyrr as she towered over a cowering store owner.
The measly, shivering man in his early sixties adjusted the spectacles over his nose and pressed the duffel bag of money into Hyrr's stomach, his fist shaking as he forced himself to get rid of it. "H-here! Please...take it...it's all that I have! Yes, thank you, Hyrr!"
Chuckling amusedly, Hyrr wrenched the bag off his hands and gave his liver-spotted head a pat. "Thanks," she read his nametag, "Mr Johnston. Remember, this is better than all those thieves taking your precious merchandise. If they did, how could you make a living?"
She gave one last smirk before heading out the glass doors. The windchimes rang.
"C-come again," stuttered Mr Johnston, waving a weak goodbye at Hyrr's back.
He looked around at his ruined shop. Glass from the windows were strewn on the floor, items crushed on the ground, the cold fridge sections were smashed in, and bottles of water, juice and soft drinks were decimated, the liquids mixing together to form a pathetic pool on the tiled ground.
Sighing, he looked behind him. There was a gaping hole in the middle of the counter where he used to check people's items out, but surrounding the hole were charred bits of melted hard plastic. Destroyed. By fire.
Yes, this was Hyrr. The first two descriptions of her personality were true, but the third and the fourth didn't fit quite right.
Without further ado, a quick redo.
Hyrr – brave, bold, truly uncharismatic and selfish. The citizens she "protected" could not really talk back, or retaliate, because they knew that when they needed her the most, she'd be there to save the day, steal their money, but at least...save their lives. One could say they were living in a life of needy fear towards their own resident superhero, but it seemed to be much more than that. One supposed only another superhero that could equal her power was the only answer to a fair and just rule. But were there other heroes out there? Other heroes that are actually heroes? Because if one word pinpointed this superhero, it was anti-hero.
Hyrr gave a cocky grin to everyone she calmly walked past.
People gathered around ol' man Johnston's store, dropping their phone calls, some taking pictures of the dastardly scene and some calling emergency numbers like the police, the fire brigade and the paramedics. Hushed whispers overcame Hyrr as she continued down the street, as if nothing had ever happened, as if she had done nothing wrong or right. She could care less. Huge cash was slung over her shoulder now, all the money she could spend on rich cigs, booze and women.
"Her again. Always her."
"The police needs to step in."
"They can't. She can throw fireballs from her goddamn hands! She could destroy us all if she wanted to."
"We don't need a hero."
"Um, yes, we do. Don't you remember what happened last time? With..."
"No, no, don't even mention that guy. Okay, I get it. We need Hyrr."
Hyrr stopped in her tracks, and turned to look at the trio who were huddled in a corner by the street. They all tensed up as she began staring at them intensely. One sweated nervously, and from his throat a small whine escaped.
Her goggles flashed in their faces, the setting sun's orange casting over the lenses. She gave them a few moments to pee their pants before giving a naughty smile. "That's right. You don't want the last time to happen, don't you? How this guy just comes rocking in and-"
"Stop!" The sole guy of the three shrieked. "We know. We know."
Lifting her chin up, she went back on her way.
This world was her oasis, and these people were the slaves feeding grapes to her. She could do anything she wanted, have anything she desired, and it would be served to her on a silver platter. It felt exhilarating to be the ruler of her world, to pull the strings how she wanted them to be pulled. She kept walking past the darkening sky; the sun colliding with the land, police sirens filling her ears in the distance. The sounds and lights of her city creeping up on her shoulders. She made a few turns, simply swaggering across streets, cars stopping before her with blasting horns and surprised yells. A few minutes later, she found herself in front of her apartment building – a high-rise type with glossy surfaces and blinking signs of life. And unsurprising as it is, she was the one who held the keys to the penthouse.
She strode in, breathing in the scent of home sweet home.
The guard at the reception was fast asleep when she came in, thank god, because she hated having to verify her identity everytime she came inside. Who else was she gonna be, aside from the great Hyrr? Then again, she realised, she wasn't the most peaceful type. People could suspect her all they want, she thought as she took the elevator up to the penthouse.
When the doors opened, she stepped inside. A balcony covered by huge crystalline glass doors stood across the room. The walls were black and red, smoothly painted on by painters that Hyrr didn't have to pay for. Warm sconces of light peeked from the ceiling, polishing all the objects in the room. In the centre was a long leather couch which curved sideways so all sides could face the huge flat-screen TV. To the left was a small bar, with a varnished wooden counter; wine glasses, shot glasses – all types lined the shelves behind it, as well as an assorted collection of beers, whiskeys, vodkas, scotches, absinthes, cognacs – everything. One could say booze was a hobby for Hyrr. To the right of the penthouse was a door leading to the master bedroom – a modern bed with sheets of black and red stripes, a globe-shaped glass lamp, a closet lined with clothes, and the panties of many different women lying around on the cream carpet.
Hyrr threw the duffel bag on the bar counter, and then began taking off her suit. First she removed the goggles, and then the gloves, the boots, and then finally, the suit. She quickly tucked them in the wine cooler behind the bar. After she snapped her neck side to side and gave a long stretch, she poured herself some whiskey and then plopped on the couch.
Since the suit was tight-fitting, there wasn't any room to put clothes inside, except panties. So those were the only things she wore at the moment. That aside, she was naked from head to toe. Her hair was dark chocolate, and tied back, with many loose strands hanging at the side of her face. The fierce eyes behind the goggles were hazel, and held mischievous flight.
She turned on the TV and flicked to the news.
"...Johnston's General Store was ransacked today by two thieves today police have identified as one Sasha Blause and one Connie Springer. But their heist to steal all the food was foiled thanks to Hyrr, who came in and gave them a fiery fight. However, they got away, and Mr Johnston, owner and proprietor of the store is blaming Hyrr for her unnecessary heroics-"
Scoffing, she turned it off. How dare that little bastard...oh, he was so compliant in her face, but behind her back...of course. What did she expect? Who couldn't hate her guts? But at least no one knew. No one knew who she really was, beneath the bravado and the talk. Here, alone, she was Ymir. Not Hyrr. Ymir. Ymi-
Her train of thought stopped as soon as she heard a thumping above her. She wanted to ignore it – it was probably just nothing. But then again, nothing could easily get up there – she was on the top floor, and it was too high-
The sounds quickly became louder. The big, square-shaped sconce on her ceiling began to tremble. Ymir stood up, looking up, eyes squinted, waiting. Small cracks appeared on the ceiling.
"What the-"
In the flash of a second, the ceiling crashed down, accompanied with a girlish scream. Rubble bounced off Ymir, but she struggled to see or breathe through the vast amount of dust that came with the sudden fall. She looked up a split-second – the broken ceiling offered a skylight for the night sky. She groaned – she'd have to get that fixed.
Once the dust settled and she brushed off the remaining particles on her, she saw a figure emerge from the rubble. As she was about to reach out to grab it by the shoulder, it leapt at her and caught her off-guard. It pushed against her chest and threw her back against the couch, its legs around her.
Ymir took a look at who her assailant was. It was a woman too, but she was way smaller than Ymir. Her petite body was encased in a cerulean and frost homemade shirt, a big white letter R on her chest. Her legs were not covered completely, however. She wore a matching skirt, as well as tall, white boots and gloves. An azure mask covered her lithe, porcelain face and Ymir couldn't see her eyes behind those white disguises.
The assailant's arms completely pinned Ymir down. The taller of the two could easily pry her off, but she was insanely curious as to who this bumbling wannabe was.
A small, shrill voice escaped the girl in blue. It was...cute, Ymir thought. "H-hold fast, villain! I am Riesen, and you are-"
The girl who introduced herself as Riesen gasped as she took the time to observe Ymir's body up and down. It was only now that she realised that her target was not fully naked, but naked enough for her to blush heavily under her mask.
"You a-are...YOU'RE NAKED!" she exclaimed, quickly jumping off Ymir, taking a few steps backwards, almost tripping over the rubble.
"Well, you could be naked too," teased Ymir, smirking smugly. There was a sharp glint in her eyes.
Riesen turned a deep red, and then slapped Ymir. "Don't talk to me like that!"
The sharp sting took her by surprise. Ymir held up her hands in defeat. This girl had assertiveness, which she actually liked. "Alright, Shorty. I'm Ymir. Welcome to my penthouse." Smiling, she put her hand out.
Riesen shook her hand tentatively and quickly let go. "Don't call me Shorty either!" Then she paused for a moment. "Wait...Ymir? That can't be...I can't have the wrong place...dammit, I should have never trusted Sasha..."
"Sasha?" Ymir raised an eyebrow. "The thief from TV?"
"Hey!" said Riesen. "She's my friend, and she only stole because the government's too busy fixing all the damage this, this Hyrr – has been causing! She's poor, her and her friend Connie, and they can't be helped because how can they, when-" She stopped, flustered, when she realised Ymir was looking at her wide-eyed and baffled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"
Ymir's brows furrowed. "So, what are you trying to say? You're trying to find Hyrr so you can bring her to justice?"
The other couldn't see it, but behind her mask Riesen was trying hard not to look at her nudity. "Yes," she responded. "She needs to be stopped. She's hogging the wealth of this city, and...there are others who need it more than she does!"
Ymir's hand shot out and took Riesen's jaw in her grip harshly. "That Hyrr could kill you. She's a dangerous, ruthless woman." Her unimpressed eyes bored into Riesen's with an intensity indescribable. "Are you so eager to die? Don't throw yourself into that. You don't owe this city anything."
Riesen whimpered, her cheeks pushed together. She had never been treated like this. Been so bluntly told like this. "U-unhand me!" she said.
Noticing how tight her hand was, Ymir finally let go and threw the other hand towards her improvised skylight. "You've gotta pay for that somehow, goddamnit."
"I'm s-s-sorry," bowed Riesen. "I will."
Ymir waved her hand. "Don't apologise. Let's just talk about how you're going to repay me."
"Anything, anything at all!"
"How about..."
"Yes?"
Ymir smiled. "I'll train you."
"T-train me? How?" Riesen was taken aback.
"Train you to be a good superhero, of course. You have a long way to go. First of all – that costume?"
Riesen crossed her arms. "There's nothing wrong with my costume!"
Laughing, Ymir stood up and put a hand on her shoulder. "No, but we can do something better."
"And you? What do you plan to get out of this?" the smaller of the two asked, suspicion dripping from her voice.
"Simple. I train you. You become better. You save lives. Get money. Save it up. You give the money to me so I can fix this roof."
After a few seconds in which Riesen thought it through, she finally gave in and shook Ymir's hand on it. "You've got a deal."
"Good." Ymir walked towards her bedroom. "You make yourself comfortable around here. This will be your headquarters for now. It's too dangerous for you to roam the streets at night. Hyrr could be on the loose."
As she went out of sight to grab clothes, her heart turned heavy for a moment.
Riesen must not learn the truth about her.
