"Lucky, come on! Where are you?" A New York accented voice called out into the empty forms of the HIVE Academy. Just only six years old, he was recently blinded due to unfortunate circumstances. Because of his newly christened handicap, he was still mistrustful of his surroundings and he needed someone to lead him throughout the endless complexes of the bee-like properties.
"Catch me if you can, Seymour!" The girl giggled, like only a first grader could. The bubblegum haired girl seemed oblivious to her friend's plight.
"B-but I can't see nothing," he whined childishly. Inside, he was panicking and he wanted—no needed—her to touch him and take ahold of him! He was so scared, what if he fell down the stairs? What if he bumped into the headmistress? "Please, Lucky, you gotta help me!"
"Hmm," the girl replied nonchalantly as she eyed her prey. "Why should I help you? What can you do for me after I help you out?"
The boy paused as he considered his options. While the girl would get in trouble for not helping him out, he was sure that she would get out of the punishment due to her charisma. Another way out of this situation was to find another person who would sympathize with the little boy and help him out. However, as he despaired internally, this was a school for bad guys! How was he gonna get a person who would aid him when they could easily push him down and lynch him? The final option was to follow through with her demands and hope for the best.
Angrily, he gritted his teeth.
She was truly villain material.
Catlike eyes crinkled up in giddy malice as she soon realized that he was going to give into her. Skipping behind him, she whispered a single request.
"Catch me if you can."
And so he did.
He ran.
He's running now.
He's always running.
His one lime green eye flashed open several times in heated succession. He knew that sooner or later that he would run out of fuel before getting taken away to jail. He paused for a second before pressing on the side of his eye-based gadget. Instantaneously, the bright pink bubble that would take him away from his inevitable—not if he could help it–predicament.
Footsteps.
Those blasted do-gooders were still after him, hounding him for past crimes.
Why him?
Why not bag someone more important than him, someone who had no connections… to her.
His barely noticeable adams apple bobbed up and down as he willed for his balloon to go faster. What was the use of escaping if he wasn't fast enough to do it?
His palms were shaking and his x-ray vision wasn't going to help him any for this situation. Seriously, did everyone in Jump City have his or her door locked at such a late hour? Sure, it was well past ten midnight, but still… Cursing his inability to think straight for just one minute, he floated down to an old museum, collapsed his balloon and reached into his back pocket of his civilian clothes.
With fumbling hands he held the skeleton key in and inserted the utensil into the keyhole.
"Come on," he muttered angrily. The pursuit behind him did not pause in the slightest; instead, to the African American's horror, it seemed that his two opponents were coming after him at an even faster pace!
Sweat dribbled down his brows, wishing that this was all a stupid nightmare and he was back in Hive Five. Alas, as he hurriedly broke in through the door and slammed it shut, things were either going to go downhill; or go down the toilet, into the depths of hell, eaten by Trigon himself, and pooped into the situation where the minor villain was currently vegetating. Just why did it all have to go down as this?
Walking among the glass cases of numerous ancient artifacts, the teen scanned the area with his bright eye. So far, his only options were to hide in the curios, shudder his life away in the janitor's closet, or come clean—even though he HAD DONE NOTHING WRONG. Did having lose relations with a hero's girlfriend be considered a crime? Geeze, he hoped not. Besides, he would rather not remember the good times that they shared.
Fast footsteps clambered along the street; his eye could see the dangerous duo debating on whether or not he was near the premises. God, he hoped that they would merely assume that he would nevercome here. Ever.
"Please," he whispered to himself as he clutched the front of his knees to his chest. He proceeded to burrow his head closer so that he appeared as a tiny bally among the many cleaning essentials. "I don't care if I have to go to jail tomorrow, but please, I don't want to be captured by her… Not be her."
Ca-click.
A pair of feet padded into the museum.
Trying to remain stealthy and quiet were they? Were they trying to mock him by acting like a great team, even though he should be the one to be at the girl's side? He used to be what considered the right hand man of his once leader! How did that abominable redhead get her in the end, as opposed to him?
Despite the position he was in, he frowned and clenched his fists with such a heated a passion that he thought his nails were going to break through his dark skin.
He shouldn't be feeling this way. He could not let these feelings interfere with his now present life. And yet… He felt blood pool gently into the crevasses of his mouth and gently outline his lips. Dang it, he thought acidly. He had bitten through the skin of his lips in agitation of what those two 'lovebirds' were going to do with him. Uncurling slightly, as to let more blood flow freely into the veins of his lower half of the body, he grimaced when he licked his lips and got a full taste of blood.
He groaned slightly with distaste.
"Wally, did you hear that?" That voice of an ang—traitor, he had corrected himself—spoke up. He dared not look up from his station on the floor. Not because he wanted to remain elusive for the time being, no. What he wanted was to never see her face ever again. Judging by how audible her tone of voice was and how her heels made impact on the linoleum flooring, he estimated that she was a few feet away from the closet.
"Hear what," the young superhero inquired. "I doubt that little friend of yours is here, Lucky."
The young man who hidden himself away tried not to pummel that arrogant wannabe sidekick into smithereens. Only he was allowed to call her that! Not Billy, not Gizmo, not even Stone! How dare she let this little cretin—!
Breathing exercises from previous lessons taught at the HIVE Academy was the only way he maintained control. Of course, he had to alter the technique as to not attract attention, but he barely reduced his anger when—
With a determined manner, the girl whom the boy loved dearly began to speak," I don't know, but I think that he might be still here. I just have this feeling…"
Feeling of what, guilt? She deserved what she got, and I ain't helping her if she gets in trouble! The one-eyed man scowled bitterly in the darkness as he tried to will those two pestering sweet-as-sugar-cookies people into the streets where they belonged! The turbulent thoughts that ran through his mind came to a head as he heard his unrequited love speak again.
"I think that See-More is still here."
Something went smooch and the villain resisted the urge to throw up in rage. Kiss somewhere else, but not here! Ugh, the blood was starting to congeal in patches around his face… how disgusting.
"All right, my Lucky Penny," See-More could practically picture the flirty wink that the no good redhead would often bestow upon her. "I'll check around the bank, and if he isn't there," a pause (presumably where the young hero shrugged)" we'll just have to assume that he left for brighter pastures."
The girl sighed, as she seemed to be walking away from the janitor's closet.
"I'm not sure what he's doing, but I hope that he isn't throwing his life away for some stupid ideal…" The girl trailed off and the African American lifted his head from the fetal crouch that he adopted. What he saw through his x-ray vision surprised. Whether it was a pleasant reaction to what had happened or something akin to revulsion, See-More did not care.
She was there.
She was beautiful.
And most, of all, she was alone.
With him.
"Hey, hot stuff," Jinx muttered quietly. See-More could clearly see that something was paining her; something was holding her back so she wouldn't hex him at that moment. Would she hurt him, he thought? He slightly turned his face away from the inviting sight, even though she could not possibly see him through the closed door.
"I know you're there," she continued quietly. Her boots, the ones that allowed her to tower over people, to assert her power, were being hastily scuffed on the tiles.
Obviously, she was nervous, from that, any person can tell.
But why?
Why was she showing concern now for his well being?
Why didn't she let the rest of their old group—their family—escape while they were busy recruiting the rest of the villains into permanent freezing lockdown?
Without even realizing it, the teen had uttered that single phrase, why.
"I'll tell you," she began," but only if you let me in. I want to see."
The dam broke through.
His sentiments were at an all time high and he needed to let it all out.
With every psychological weapon he had within himself, he produced a salvo of verbal armaments that were sure to break her down.
If he couldn't bring her back from the dark side, he might as well break her.
"Who do you think you are, a princess? Are you an antihero that had a chance of new life in some cliché romance novel? Are you just here to act like that Bella Swan person who says 'everything's fine, I like shiny things, especially sparkly pixies, that really don't care about me, and I am fine about how I treat my best friend! By dumping him into the cesspool of forgotten memories!'" His voice, his proud New Yorker accent was close to cracking and showing him for the true person he really was, a scared teen that wanted to run away from it all.
"Look, See-More," her voice was tired, desperate, close to cracking. "How could I ever forget you? I-I just wanted to—"
"To what? For what?" See-More yelled as he yelled at the door. "Did you know that you're selfish? Did you know that the rest of our family would help you in times of need? You never told us what you wanted! You never told us that you wanted something more, something worthwhile! We could have given you that if you just let us!" His breathing felt rushed and ragged as he let his tongue run off what he had always wanted to say after… that.
"I know," she agreed. "But what does crime achieve? What does breaking the laws countless times make us? We are nothing more—"
"Don't say that, don't ever say that," See-More bellowed.
"Say what," Jinx's patience was also reaching its breaking point, and she hated being interrupted without a good cause.
"There is no we. There never was a we. You betrayed us, and I'm sure that you probably planned it out from the beginning!" With speed that was previously unknown to him, the teenager opened the door that separated the two and breathed heavily at her diminutive form. "How long have you been planning to break us!?"
"That's not how it is… I needed some time out from that crime work. I just needed to get the recognition I needed; the recognition to show that I was more than bad luck."
"What you wanted," See-More replied with a chuckle," was to get that hottie, Kid Flash."
Coloring, the witch whirled from the morose young girl to a fire-breathing dragon. Indeed, there were violet rays of sparks shooting from her hands, and her eyes foretold of years of bad luck. If See-More cared, if he wasn't furious at her consequential actions, if he was not so attached to her, he might have cowed in fright. But not now, not when she, of all people, did chase him just minutes earlier.
"See," he jeered, as he pointed to his makeshift eye," you proved my point with flying colors. Our psychology professor would have been proud."
"So what is he's good looking, I would have turned good either way! You guys were dehumanizing me, treating me like I was just another damsel in distress! Gizmo, I can handle, but the rest of you were sexually harassing me!"
"Honey, that's called flirting." See-More spoke as if he was teaching a child how to control her temper. "The only reason you turned 'good' was so that things could become 'dirty' between you and Flash over there."
Her eyes, already livid and bright with color, if possible, transformed into an even brighter color of violet. See-More peed himself—it was manly though.
"I just wanted to make a name for myself, a name where I wasn't just bad luck! Where I wasn't the witch that couldn't do anything right!" Her slender arms wrapped around her thin waist as she glared at the floor. If See-More still knew her—and he no longer was sure about that—he instantly sensed that she was about to cry. And when she cried…he was at his most vulnerable.
He had to act fast.
"Too bad," he mumbled," I think your name's already put a bad name on your career…"
Gently, he pushed the janitor's door into it's original stationery position and faced the entrance that would lead to his freedom—if the pink haired girl would let him go, that is. Sighing, he turned back to the girl, his emotions were running really high and he had no regret on what he was about to do. None whatsoever.
"What did we ever do to you to deserve betrayal? It was enough that you had to leave for the good side, but to freeze the rest of our teammates? W-what happened, Jinx? Why?" He was embarrassed that his voice started to crack in the end, but he did his job. He made his old team leader feel the heat, and for now that was enough.
Tears swept down her cheeks in silent rivers that washed the sweat of nervousness that coated her face. Knowing full well that she was far too out of her mind to do anything, he used his fingers to get rid of the salty waters and bestowed a chaste kiss on her forehead. Hey, just because she was now officially his enemy did not mean he had to leave her out in the cold like this without reassurance, right?
Even now, he sorrowfully realized, he was still in love with her.
And as he walked away from her, he knew that was probably going to be the last he'll ever hear from her.
Huffing and puffing like that wolf in the fairytale, the blind boy ran around, miraculously not bumping into something hazardous along the way. He was still fearful, though, that he was going to fall to his death or something equally dangerous to warrant him something more to lose; perhaps, his use of his legs or his hearing. If he did die, he was going to kill her in her sleep… After haunting her, of course!
"You are so slow Seymour! Can't you go faster?"
She was close.
How can that little girl run so fast so that when she was close to him that he could reach out and take one of her pigtails, but moved too fast to be taken prisoner? Frustrated, Seymour ran so fast that he neglected to actually take in account that he had no clue where he was going…and whom he was going to bump into if he wasn't careful.
As if on cue, something large, menacing, and growling collided with Seymour's antics. Droplets of salt water leaked out of his green eyes as Seymour realized whom he had managed to bump into. Unfortunately for him, he managed to ram into one of the most feared students of the HIVE Academy—or so he heard—Baran Flinders.
"What are you doing here, you wuss," the large student grunted as he lifted the handicapped boy by the collar of his shirt.
"I-I was trying to get Lucky," Seymour tried to reason. "That's all! Come on, Baran—"
"You stupid newbie," the older, more experienced villain growled," the name's Mammoth! Looks like you haven't made yourself a name to live up to, but you won't be able to when I end you!"
"It was all just fun and games, honest! You wouldn't hit a guy with cool sunglasses, would you?"
"Why you—"
"Yo, Mammoth! Why don't you eat a boot sandwich?" Although Seymour couldn't see what was happening, he instinctively bowed his head as his friend supposedly used some acrobatic mojo jojo on his captor. After what seemed to be five minutes, Seymour found himself falling headfirst to the ground. Lucky offered no assistance she was too busy laughing and whooping at her accomplishment.
"A boot sandwich, seriously?"
"I'm not that great with one-liners."
Gentle hands lifted him up to a sitting position. Smirking, Seymour took a lock of one of Lucky's pigtails and playfully tugged at it, eliciting a squeal.
"Gotcha," he crowed delightedly.
"No fair, I saved you from that Baran freakazoid! You should be thanking me!" Lucky tried to wrestle away from Seymour's vice like grip on her hair, refusing to surrender.
"Nah," Seymour drawled out," I'd rather torture you."
"How?"
"By never letting you go."
…
"That's so cheesy, you already know that we're going to be friends together forever, right?"
"Lucky," Seymour began," please don't jinx it.
Didn't I tell you guys? I like Sminx. End of story. Sort of a sequel to my other Sminx story.