Don't Look Now
Jak
"Really?" I shake my head with a laugh. "You really think I have a 'weapon of the day'?"
"The middle schoolers said so!" Deidre insists. She is a brown-haired girl with blonde highlights, green eyes and a sweet smile.
"Don't be gullible, little girl." I sigh. Deidre huffs.
"I am insulted!" She squeaks.
"Ai. You should be." I laugh.
"Why would middle schoolers want to lie to me?" She says coyly.
"D'you want the long or short list?" I ask her. "The reasons are plethoric, Dee."
"I am friendly with everyone, unlike you." She starts and I cut her off.
"Damn right." I mutter.
"And as a result they come to me with their thoughts." She continues over me.
"And you should totally believe what they say, because middle schoolers are known for their intelligent theories." I deadpan, sprawled out on the counter, my hands laced under my shaggy black mane of hair.
"Don't be dry." Lela, my tall, dark-skinned friend, quips, snapping her fingers in my face. "We're just saying."
"Yeah? Well, so am I." I shrug. "I ain't got no damn weapon of the day."
"But you do have a tattoo!" Ross' eyebrows raise, looking at the star-shaped marking on my exposed upper arm. He is short and stocky, with black hair and eyes.
"Are you surprised, Eight?" I grin. I call Ross Eight because, even though he's in my crew, he's in the eighth grade.
"No, I mean, I saw the one on your leg, but I didn't know you had more than that one." He says sheepishly.
"I've got five." I roll my eyes. "Don't ask."
"You think we wanna know where your five tattoos are?" Misha, Lela's older sister, asks. She and Lela look similar, except Lela is taller.
"I wish." I sigh. "But alas; no one wants to see."
"Well, glad we're all on the same page, 'cause we really don't." Natalie rolls her eyes, skirting around me to sit by Misha and Deidre. Nat is short and slim; with brown eyes and blue highlighted black hair.
"Rude." I grumble, and stand. My skin isn't as dark as it could be, thanks to my joint Puerto Rican, black and white heritage. I am taller than Natalie, Misha, and Deidre; roughly Lela's height. I straighten my white Nickelback t-shirt and pull down the hem of my sleeveless black leather jacket. The chain hanging from my pocket jingles as I reach down to retie my black boots. When I come back up, Cyrus is standing in front of me, that insufferable grin on his brown-goateed face.
"Oh, hey, boss." I pipe and he laughs.
"Whenever you're done giving those girls the 'Jak's Ass Show', it's time for the meeting." He walks away and I roll my eyes at his retreating back.
"The 'Jak's Ass Show' is one of the best things anyone's ever gonna see." I mutter, then take a deep breath and clap loudly. "Alright, Blades, it's meeting time!"
Kids from all over the Cafeteria (or the Catheteria, as some of the middle schoolers nicknamed it) flock to the corner where Cy sits. I take my seat at his right side and Madison, his girlfriend, sits at his left.
We discuss many things at our meeting; plans to expand out group, presented by Aron, a heated debate about the use of illegal substances, (alcohol: fine, but don't get caught if you're underage; drugs: no, we need sharp-minded members) we swear (read: beat) in new members, uselessly discuss our group name, (Cy came up with 'Blades' a while ago, but even though Madison and I both think it's stupid; he won't budge) and assign members to a bully problem facing a few of our middle schoolers. Once the meeting adjourns, we disperse. I leave the Catheteria to find my crew. On the way, I am accosted by Aron, Allen, Craig, and Collin.
Let me explain. Cy is old enough to be a junior in college (if he were to go), and I'm a Senior in high school. The boys in front of me are would-be college juniors, Cy's friends, who are jealous that I am second in command. Aron, the recruitment chief, is a tall, leanly muscled man with blonde hair. Allen, the finance officer, is taller than Aron with dark hair and skin. Craig, from logistics, and Collin, human resources (yes we have an HR department; I insisted that we run our gang like a Fortune 500 company), are brothers. Craig has long, red hair and a thick beard, while Collin is shorter and clean shaven with close cropped hair.
"What do you want, Aron?" I drawl, looking as bored as I sound. Inside, I am nervous. These guys are heavier than me, (though not stronger) and mean. I won't show them my fear, though.
"I hope you know you won't be second in command forever." Aron growls. "One screw-up and Cy will toss you out, just like he did me."
Cyrus has notoriously little patience for inefficiency and uselessness, but I know for fact that Aron was removed for circumstances beyond that. He was rumored to have stolen goods from the gang, which is not okay, but he was never pinned for the crime; thus never kicked out.
"Whatever you say, buddy." I smirk and push past him. Allen grabs my arm as I walk past, and yanks me back.
"I'd suggest that you listen to him." He hisses, and I narrow my eyes.
"Let me go." I say. My voice is low and cold. "Get your hands off me, or I swear you will lose a limb."
Aron laughs, but Allen lets me go, fear flashing briefly across his face. I walk down the hall unaffected, until, as I pass a dark hallway, I am grabbed by my jacket collar and yanked in. Ai. Not again. I whirl on my attacker, slamming my forearm into their collarbone; I hear a breathy grunt, but I keep pressing, driving them into the wall. I pull back my fist to knock them out, but cool, slim fingers close around my fist.
"Jak, wait!" I hear the person gasp, and I pause. "It's me!"
I let my assailant's shoulder go and step back, lifting my white, black billed cap and running a hand through my tousled hair.
"Geez, T!" I say, jamming the hat back on. I first called Natalie T, 'cause a lady named Natalie wrote Tuck Everlasting, her favorite book; but now it's turned into calling her anything that has to do with the story. "I coulda killed you!"
"I'm sorry!" Natalie says, rubbing her shoulder. "But, y'know, ow!"
"Sorry, T." I breathe. "Is your shoulder okay?"
"I think so." She grins slightly.
"So…" I start. "What did you need again?"
"Oh, sorry." Nat shakes her head sharply, as if to clear it. "I need to talk to you."
"Did you have to jerk me into a back hallway like this is some Italian mob movie, or something?" I snap; a frown on my face. "Why don't you tell Dee, or Misha?"
"They can't help me." Nat shakes her head, then she smirks. "Are you having a bad day or something?"
"No." I pitch my tone up high and copy her voice. "I just don't like when people touch me. Now, what the hell do you wanna talk about that you apparently can't say in front of the rest of civilization?"
"I broke up with David." She bites her lip.
"Okay. You want me to do…what?" I raise an eyebrow at her. Her boyfriend, David is a little, wimpy nerd with a bit of a problem. He was lucky to get her.
"Can you keep him away from me?" She sighs.
"Why? What's he gonna do?" I laugh. "Beg you to come back until you keel over?"
"No." She looks at my shirt.
"Then I don't know what you need me for." I shrug, then grin and wiggle my eyebrows at her. "What, d'you want me to make him jealous? 'Cause I'd be glad to."
"Don't be stupid." She rolls her eyes as I bust out laughing. "That's not happening."
"C'mon, Tucker." I pout without really trying. "Hey, it wouldn't be the first time."
"I thought we swore never to speak of that." She huffs.
"You swore." I shrug. "You know it was the best time of your life."
"Aaaaand, we're still talking about it." She plugs her ears with her fingers.
"Well, I had a good time." I sniff.
"You tricked me." She snaps playfully, ripping her fingers out of her ears.
"What?" I fake surprise. "I did no such thing!"
"Please, you totally did." She rolls her eyes.
"Well I didn't hear you complaining." I smirk. "Especially when I-"
"JAK!" She whisper yells, her face bright red.
"I'm sorry." I laugh, holding my side. "Okay, no I'm not. The look on your face…"
"You done?" She says.
"I…" I start, then start laughing again. When I finally calm down, I sigh. "Okay. I'm good. So, back to the start. why am I covering you?"
She looks away, and I know I've hit a nerve. I put my hand under her chin and turn her face back towards me. Her cheeks and eyes are wet with tears.
"Natalie." I sigh, and pull her towards me, wrapping her in a hug. I frown over her head. "What happened? Did that douche mess with you?"
"I-I told him to stop." She murmurs into my shirt. "He was hurting me. But he didn't." She looks up at me, then ducks her head and sobs into my chest. "He hit me, Jak."
"Who?!" I'm mad now. "Who did?"
She continues as though I hadn't spoken.
"I told him to stop." She whispers, still clutching my waist. "But he wouldn't, Jak. Why wouldn't he?"
"I don't know, babe." I shake my head. Who did this to her? I'd fry the bastard, but that would be too easy for him. I'll make him suffer. "It was David?"
"No." She says quietly, pulling away to wipe her eyes. "It was Grant."
"Grant? Why the hell was he there?!" I ask.
"David took me to his house to 'study'. But Grant was there. David told me he was a Dragger, and he let his boss beat me." She says, even quieter.
"What?!" I'm surprised that David is a Dragger; but actually, not really. Something always seemed off about that kid. The Draggers don't care if you're a simp; they'll take any bastard sick enough to agree with their twisted shit.
"I need your help." She says, finally looking up at me. "Can you keep them away from me?"
"Of course." I say vehemently.
"Thanks." She says. "I wanna be free."
"And it looks like you're gonna be." I quip, and she swats me. "Ow!"
"That didn't hurt." She says.
"True." I concede. "But it's the principle of the thing."
"Whatever." She says, walking out of the hall with me trailing. "Thanks Jak. I'm glad you can help me."
"No prob." I say. "Thanks for trusting me, kid."
"You're welcome." She says. "And don't call me kid, you're not that much older than me."
"Sorry, kid." I laugh, even though she's dead wrong. She rolls her eyes and I continue through the halls until I find Nick, Andre, and Anne. My crew. Nick is tall and muscular with spikey blonde-streaked brown hair, grey eyes and massive hands. Andre is my height and wiry, with curly light brown hair, skin the same shade of brown as mine and black eyes. Anne is short and pretty with blonde hair and hazel eyes. "Hey guys."
"Hey, Jak." Nick says. "Where were you?"
"Chatting with Natalie." I shrug.
"Sounds like a talk show." Andre quips.
"Whatever, dude." I roll my eyes.
"When are you gonna just tell her?" Anne sighs.
"Tell her what?" I feign innocence, but I know exactly what she's saying.
"That you like her." And, there it is. Anne says it rhetorically, because she knows I was already aware of what she was going to say.
"Maybe someday." I say. But I'm lying. I have no future with Natalie. "She's my friend. It would be totally awkward."
"I know Anne doesn't like me." Andre shrugs, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "And I told her anyway. See? No awkwardness here." Anne shoves Dre's arm off of her shoulder and I roll my eyes.
"Yeah, as long as you avoid discussing the giant elephant in the room." I huff. "Maybe you can live with that, Dre, but I can't."
"No, see; pushing aside rejection keeps him going." Nick jokes.
"I'm sure." I smirk. "Now, enough of that. How's the 'no bullies in school' initiative coming? If I'm not mistaken, I put Dre in charge of that."
"Yeah." He says, putting on his serious face. "It's…coming."
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" I say suspiciously.
"Uh, I'll tell you tomorrow." Dre smiles nervously. "I'll even provide a visual aid."
"Does it come with a hearing aid?" I ask, rubbing my ear.
"Why?" Anne asks, frowning. "Is it hurting again?"
"A little. Mostly ringing and silence." I cock my head.
"I told you to get that looked at." Anne grouses, coming over to look at my ear. She takes my head in her hands, tilting my left ear canal into the light, all the while still berating me. "But did you? No! A big, important, second in command doesn't need an ear exam, you said. I'll be fine, you said. It's no biggie, you said. As long as I can still hear, you said. Ridiculous."
"I've got scars everywhere. I'm fine, Nurse Anne." I say, just to get her goat. Sure enough…
"See?!" She tosses her hands up, stomping back to her seat and flopping into it. "There you go again."
"Anne, calm down." Andre sooths, patting her back gently.
"I can't calm down until Jak stops being unreasonable!" She snaps, waving her hand at me. "Ridiculous!"
"You said that already, Anne." I say calmly.
"And I'll say it again!" She glares at me. "You got a shotgun pellet in your ear!"
"You got it out." I coax. "You're the best doctor I've ever been to."
"How can you be so cavalier about this?!" Anne huffs. "I'm not even a doctor!"
"Not yet." I correct. "And being cavalier keeps me alive."
"Oh, is that what it is?" Anne fakes surprise. "I thought it was being an asshole!"
"Ai." I roll my eyes, feeling defensive. Perhaps it was the mention of the shotgun incident. Of all of my escapades, that one was the most traumatizing. "Don't be mad, Mom."
"Don't be rude, Jak." Anne says, now calm. Role-reversal. I hate it.
"Whatever." I sigh. "Nick. Eyes on the Draggers?"
"I got info." Nick says, leaning forward to hand me a piece of paper. I scan the page quietly, then flick my green eyes up to meet his grey.
"So…they're gonna…spray paint us to death?" I snark, to cover how confused I am.
"I doubt it." Nick shakes his head. "It feels more like them invading our turf, vandalizing a bit, then pinning it on us. Defamation of character."
"We're a damn gang, Nick." I snort, tossing the sheet onto the table next to me. "We don't have shit for character."
"You know what I mean." He sighs. "We're a good gang. Comparatively. The point is, we don't screw with this neighborhood."
"'Cause it's all we've got." I say seriously. "And that ain't gonna change."
"You're so Bronx sometimes." Andre laughs.
"Screw off." I snap. "It's where I'm from."
"Well, you're not there anymore." He retorts. "You're in Harlem now."
"You don't think I know that?" I say dangerously.
"Break it up, ladies." Anne says boredly, examining the back of her hand.
"Oh, I ain't put it together yet." I smirk, cracking my neck.
"Ladies!?" Andre squeaks and I laugh.
"Anyway." Nick says, and his tone tells us to call it off. "The Draggers wanna make us seem like ungrateful little shits."
"Then we gotta prove them wrong." I shrug.
"Yeah." Dre says. "Sorry."
"No prob, dude." I grin. "Sorry for flying off the handle like that."
"It's alright. You're tired." Dre shrugs. "We all are; so goodnight."
"Night, man." I smirk. I pull myself up and trudge to my room upstairs. Yes, I have my own room. I change into an old pair of sweats and a sleeveless shirt. I toss myself into bed and pull up the covers, running my fingers over the words on my forearm in the pretty script.
You? I can't believe all the people in the world, it had to be you?
I have pondered their meaning for a long time, and the most I can come up with is that my soulmate will be angry with me for some reason. It grieves me to think that I will have offended the other half of my soul so badly. I want to meet my soulmate though, angry or not. Someday… Today's meeting was productive. We got a lot of things done. Tomorrow are the basketball tryouts, and all I really want to do is sleep. But tonight…I feel trouble. I get up and pull my grey hoodie on, following it with a black beanie and a bandana, tied around my face.
I open my window, gently, and leap down, snagging the ladder to the fire escape. Tomorrow, I'll be Jak Ortiz, but tonight, the world needs a Flame.
THE NEXT DAY…
"Here, you lazy bum." I toss Mitch the bagged bagel I bought him. "Y'know eventually, you're gonna have to buy your own food?"
"Yeah." He smirks. "But 'til then, I'll depend on you."
"Whatever." I laugh.
"Hey," He starts casually, avoiding my eyes. "Have you seen Natalie?"
"Naw, not yet." I shrug. I straighten my checked fedora and loosen my white tie. As you may have noticed, I only wear black and white, except when there's a sports game. Black and white are the Blades colors. I'm wearing my usual black jeans, but since I have drama class today (bleh), I added a checked front vest over my black button down. I am sitting in the lunchroom of Douglas Johnson High with some of my early friends. Mitch is a tall, brown haired, blue eyed, deeply tanned Southern boy. He lives at Mrs. Ricks Foster Home (same as Natalie) around the corner from the one I live in. I see Mitch open his mouth, but before he can say anything, the bell rings.
Everyone in the lunchroom surges into the hall at once. I make it to my end locker and shove my shit into it. I swim upstream through the crowd to homeroom, upstairs. Lela, Deidre and Natalie are in my homeroom class, to name a few. I greet a few of the guys I hang with; Alexander, Eddie, Liam and Brandon (twins), then take my undisputed spot in the middle of the classroom. Brandon sits next to the window, and Liam is in between his brother and me, Alex is on my right, Eddie is behind me and Natalie's in front of me. On Nat's either sides are Dee and Lela (big surprise). I lean forward and grin audibly near the back of Nat's head.
"Ugh." She laughs, tossing a glance at me over her shoulder. "Do you have to make a noise when you smile?"
"It's part of my character." I smirk.
"Ever the charmer." Lela snorts.
"Well, hi to you too, Lei." I shake my head.
"Whatever." She rolls her eyes.
"Why do y'all have to treat me like this, ladies?" I feign disappointment.
"It makes the world go 'round." Dee giggles without looking at me.
"Meanies." I slouch in my chair as Mr. Diegent walks in. He's our homeroom teacher as well as the Latin club teacher. He calls roll, and sits with us as we listen to Principal Makah read the announcements in her Afrikaan accent. She asks for the student representative of senior class 415. That's our class. Deidre and a tall, hot blonde named Sophie are the student representatives. Great girl, that Sophie. Good kisser too. Anyway, it's Dee's turn to go to the principal's office, and as she passes Natalie's desk, I lean forward and taunt her.
"Ooooooooo, Deidre." I grin. "What'd you do this time?"
"Shut up, Jak." She hisses, and I laugh. Dee never has to go to the principal because of anything she's done. It's a point of pride, so tormenting her about it is especially fun.
We wait for a while, as Mr. D enthusiastically touts the merits of his beloved Latin Club. Heu frater. I mean, I love our teacher; he's a cool dude, but seriously. He needs to give it a rest. When Dee comes back, she's trailed by a boy and a girl. Both have dark, wavy hair, but the boy has obviously bleached his. It's awful.
It looks like he dipped his head in a bucket of bleach. It's uneven and partially grown out. The girl's hair is dark like her brother's roots, but under the light, it's faintly red. The boy is tall, leanly muscled and wiry, and the girl is short and slight. The guy's wearing a pair of nice, expensive-looking jeans and a Star Wars t-shirt, but the girl's wearing a skirt and blouse. The guy has light blue eyes, the girl has brown, and both are standing solemnly next to Dee in the front of the room.
"Mr. Diegent, this is Quinton Baker and his sister Willow." Dee says sweetly. Kiss-ass.
"Hello, Quinton, Willow." Mr. D nods. "I'm Mr. Diegent, your homeroom teacher. Please take a seat."
"Thank you." The girl says. Her voice is soft, but deeper than I expected for such a thin person. She has an odd accent, Eastern European of some sort I think, (probably Sokovian refugees) but it is clipped and lilting. She has a nice voice. And the accent's honestly a bit of a turn on… Mind out of the gutter, Jak. I shake my head sharply and dig a piece of paper out of my pocket. I pull a pen out of the inside of my desk and scribble a quick note.
I pass it to Liam, and motion that it's for Willow, who's just sat in front of Brandon. Liam taps Willow and gives it to her. She raises an eyebrow at him and he hooks a thumb at me. She turns her gaze on me and opens the note, still looking at me. She flicks her eyes down quickly and reads the note fast, glancing up at me at the end. She grabs a pencil from Liam's desk and writes her response, passing the note and pencil back to Liam. Liam keeps the pencil and passes me the note, keeping one eye on Mr. D, who is still droning on about Latin club.
I open the note and read it over. I wrote…
Do you wanna join me and my friends for lunch? A pretty girl like you shouldn't have to eat alone. Your brother can come too.
Jak Ortiz
She replied,
You are quite the flirt aren't you? My brother and I will join you and your friends. I am interested to learn more about you, Jak Ortiz.
– Willow Baker
I grin at her and lean back, pocketing the note, totally ignoring Quinton's baleful glare. When the bell finally rings, I scramble out of the classroom. It's time for Algebra. Ew. When I get to my locker, Nat's waiting for me.
"Hey, kid." I grin. "What's up?"
"Nothing." She says quickly. "Don't call me kid."
"You sure you're okay, Nat?" I ask her, concerned. She's looking over her shoulders like the boogeyman's gonna jump out and grab her. Or Grant, which is equally worrying.
"Can you walk me to class?" She bites her lip and looks away. I sigh.
"Where're you goin'?" I ask her.
"English." She says quietly, still not looking at me.
"Lucky. I've got stupid Algebra." I mutter. "I'll take you to class, T."
"Really?" She looks up at me and I swear, she looks at me like she's trying to figure out if this is a dream or not. "Thank you, Jak."
"You're welcome." I say, and take her books.
"Hey!" She gasps, and tries to take them back. I lift them out of her reach.
"Uh-uh." I grin. "I'm gonna carry these, and you're not gonna bother me about it. Chivalry is not dead. It lives on in me, honey."
"Fine." Nat huffs. "But you better give 'em back."
"If you think I want your books, babe, you've got the wrong guy." I smirk as we start to walk. She rolls her eyes, then elbows me cheekily.
"I saw you eyeing the new girl in class." Natalie grins.
"I don't know what you're talkin' about." I insist, avoiding her smug gaze.
"Please." She smirks. "You were practically drooling. She is pretty cute."
"So's her brother. Your point is?" I shrug.
"So you like 'em both?" She huffs playfully. "You're such a whore sometimes."
"Oh, shut up, girly." I shake my head. "You're a lot of jerk in a little package."
"At least I don't sleep with everything on two legs." Natalie retorts.
"Hm." I shrug offhandedly. "I feel like I should be offended."
"You should have like, a shit-ton of kids running around here by now." Nat rolls her eyes.
"Hey, I protect myself." I sniff.
"You've slept with so many people; you've probably missed a couple of times." She snips back. "You're just lucky it hasn't bit you in the ass yet."
"Hey," I shrug. "As long as it bites good…"
"Slut." She laughs.
"Oh-ho!" I exclaim. "Shall we go there?"
"We shall." She says smugly, probably thinking that she's bested me.
"Thus sayeth the cheerleader." I raise my eyebrows and she audibly facepalms.
"I walked right into that one, didn't I?" She sighs into her hand. "Stupid cheerleader jokes. That wasn't even a good one. Come to think of it, it wasn't even a joke…"
"Yep!" I pipe cheerfully, ignoring her write-off of my joke style. "You sure did."
We get to Nat's class, stopping outside the door, and I hand her the books.
"Have fun in class, babe." I grin.
"I will, you dirty flirt." She huffs. "Go to Algebra, before you're late."
"Aww, you worry about me." I croon. "How sweet."
"I'm not worried about you," Nat shakes her head with a smirk. "I'm worried about the basketball team. Wouldn't do for their star player to be benched before the first tryout, would it?"
"Star player?" I call over my shoulder as I walk off. "I'm flattered, Tuck!"
"Oh, shut up." She rolls her eyes, going into her class.
"Never." I grin to myself and thunder down the stairs.
LATER THAT DAY…
"Anybody else bored out of their minds?" I whisper to Quinn, leaning across Nat's lap.
"Me." He snorts dryly, as Nat smacks me upside the head.
"Owwww!" I hiss. "That hurt, Tuck."
"Get the hell out of my lap." She hisses back.
"Sorry." I mutter and look back at Vice Principle Radcliffe.
"We are entering a new season, students." He snivels in his nasally voice. "Our school is going to go from drab and run down to illustrious! We are going to aid that change by…"
Yada, yada, yada. I roll my eyes and lean back in my seat, glancing at my watch. There's only twenty more minutes, then I can go to basketball tryouts. Not like I need to. I've pretty much got a guaranteed starting slot. I'm just that good. Anyway, Radcliffe is still pontificating, when suddenly there is a terrific explosion, and a bunch of badass ninja-looking punks zipline through the huge, newly-formed hole in the ceiling.
The badass ninjas pull off their ninja masks to reveal…a bunch of normal looking people. This is sorta anticlimactic, honestly. I expected them to be unreasonably handsome, or hideously disfigured; like the bad guys we see the Avengers fight on the news. Oh well. They totally make up for it when they pull assault rifles and miniguns out of nowhere and start brandishing them and yelling for us to get down.
Now here's the rub. Personally, I don't give a shit that these deadly, yet eerily normal-looking commandoes are trying to blow our school to bits. I actually think it would look better in bits. My problem is that these wannabe punks are aiming a gun at Natalie. Now I know for fact that Mitch has a thing for her, and I'm not trying to step on his toes, but she asked me to watch her back, so I am. Which means that some random John isn't gonna come up in here and use her as a hostage if I have any say in it.
See, what happened was, the creep grabbed Nat and proceeded to use her in a function traditionally attributed to Kevlar. I am instantly up, and angry. I go up behind him and pulled my gun. I grab the insanely normal perp around the neck and jam my gun into his ear.
"Let her go." I hiss. The perp doesn't even blink. He holds Nat tighter, drops the gun and flicks a knife out of… Shit, I don't know where! Now I'm beyond mad. See, if I just shoot him, his hand could slip and slit Tuck's throat. That's uncool. So I do what any normal person would do in this situation. I drop my gun, grab the perp's knife hand instead and wrench the knife out of his hand. Once the knife clatters on the ground, I shove Nat away with my booted foot and burn my handprint in the creep's throat.
Yeah…I may've forgot to mention that I have literal fire powers. But the crazy thing is that after I burn him, the guy I am holding starts glowing red. Everyone on the ground looks over at us and so do the baddies. I am still holding the guy. I think he is trying to burn me, but I'm flame retardant. The second he realizes that he can't burn me, I see him start glowing harder. That's when I realize that he may be trying to explode. I realize it a second too late though, and he blows. Built in suicide bomber. I fly across the room and crash into…something hard and faintly red. It's a…one of those, uh…y'know those little, um, I don't know what the hell it is, but I know that Willow is behind it, both figuratively and literally, and it hurts.
After I come to the enriching realization that Willow Baker is in fact Wanda Maximoff, Avenger; I proceed to black out. My last thought before I do is: Shit. They caught me.