It should be explicitly understood and accepted that there lies a fine line between superheroes and super villains wherein the vigilante walks. Often she walks this line alone, teetering between the gray areas of the world, daring to venture into the murky depths and return unscathed. There is none to guide her, but her own wits. She must learn to trust herself and only herself. It is her only rule.
Trust no one.
Some admire her. Her independence and prowess remain an inspiration. Taking the law into her own hands to enact justice holds a certain allure for some. But few ever act on this urge. She is a class all to herself.
Untouchable.
Immortalized in the minds of civilians.
Some are wary. How can they trust someone who wears the same mystique as the villains they quail under? Hero work is simply so much more respectable. They are good, law-abiding citizens, predictable. Smile for the cameras, kiss wriggling babies, wink and wave at swooning fans, accept badly drawn artwork where they could swear they were meant to be portrayed as a slug. These are the brave men and women the citizens of Arendelle and the European Union can look up to.
Every city, every continent had them. Corona, New Beijing, Toulouse, Farafarah. And San Fransokyo; her final destination.
Some grudgingly accept her existence. It's not like they could ever stop her and it would be a complete waste of resources to sick their heroes on her. As long as she delivers villains to their prisons and asylums, they keep their protests to a minimum. The few that she doesn't… Well, eventually they get over it. Secretly they agree with her.
Prison is just too good for some.
Heroes don't like her much and make no point of hiding it. She is arrogant, taunting, acting outside the law the way she does. Who does she think she is? Her gimmicks make them uneasy. She is ruthless, chaotic. She questions their sense of justice, rocks their held-firm beliefs. Recklessness follows her every step. But perhaps it is her rejection of their team that they really dislike. She is an army of one.
A loose cannon.
Villains turn white and clammy at the mere mention of her name. She's unpredictable. And unlike the heroes they mock and scorn, she knows every one of their games and plays with skill that rivals the worst criminal. She holds the cards. Like them, she walks in the dark, avoiding the sun. Hatred broils beneath their skin quickly enough once the terror of her memory subsides. She better hope they never catch her wily self, because if they do, she knows they'll make her wish she'd never been born.
And she? This unseen savior? Sleepless eyes and buried memories, she lives as a shadow. Trying to forget the searing pain in her chest that reminds her why she subjects herself to dread and horror and the sickening crack her titanium fist makes when it collides with a killer and the flecks of blood in her silvery hair. What this life of deception has cost her. By night she is strong, dangerous. It is the only time she feels sure of herself. When somehow the sweat and the blood and the tears of her enemies makes her beautiful. By day… she is everything and nothing at all, somebody and nobody special.
The life a vigilante is not one to be envied. Heroes and villains, white and black, light and dark. Sometimes she longs for such simplicity.
But the life of a vigilante is a necessary one. And if she doesn't do it, who will? Who will stand against evil when everyone but the best of their heroes have deserted the cause?
Who will stand when there's no one left?
A/N: Hi friends. Sapphira here. Just wanted to give credit where credit's due. While this is obviously a Tadelsa piece because I absolutely adore this ship, it's heavily influenced by Marissa Meyer's The Lunar Chronicles: Book 1: Cinder. Anyway that's all for now. Thanks for reading. God bless :)