Hey, everyone! This is my first Sky High fic! I watched the movie recently and I had this idea, I just wanted to get it out of my system. Please tell me if you enjoyed this, and I might post more chapters. Thanks for reading!

The police dropped a body at my lab first thing this morning. I've been busy with other corpses, trying to find the nature of their death and the possible motives to it, but they asked me —they begged me— to take a look at this body as soon as possible.

I pull the white sheet off of the body. It's pale, looking almost green under the lighting in my lab. The first thing I notice is the darkened skin at his neck, his wrists, chest, stomach, and ankles. Horrible. I grimace, I may have been at this job for almost four years, but I still have a hard time watching all these corpses and picturing how they died. It's terrible.

I feel goosebumps as I take my scalpel and start running the blade down his skin.

The organs had been constricted, and the victim shows strangulation marks. Is what I write on the report after examining his body.

The liver and the heart are completely ruined, they stopped functioning and that might have been the cause of death.

The lack of blood flow, caused by constriction of the body, caused the death of the subject. I keep writing.

I've only seen these kind of marks and injuries in people who have been attacked by boas, or even some anacondas. However, a boa wouldn't go for the wrists, and it definitely wouldn't pay attention to the ankles. Something doesn't add up.

The brain might tell me something, it always does. But I need the family's consent to saw through the victim's skull, so I just stare at his head.

I scowl and narrow my eyes as I look at him, I think I know him. His nose and lips are familiar, his eyes are closed yet I still get an idea of what his face used to look like. The imagine I get in my head is a much younger one, a juvenile face that used to smile at me every now and then. I went to high school with him.

I'll just say it now, I went to Sky High, a boarding school that's suspended in the air by an anti-gravity device. I spent four years there, in the sky. This man on my table went to Sky High with me, but he wasn't in my class. He spent those four years training to be a sidekick. After graduation, a sidekick was assigned to those who had graduated as heroes, and this guy —Tim Barnett— had been assigned to me. Although, you should know by now that I'm no superhero. I turned him down, and no matter how hard he tried to persuade me, my decision of staying on the sidelines was final. I had my reasons, and I stay true to them to this day, and maybe you'll find out about them one day. Anyway, Tim ended up teaming up with some hero whose sidekick didn't want to save the world either. And now he's here, at my table.

I feel incredibly guilty, and I even want to cry. I hadn't heard of him until now, and he's dead. I guess he had been trying to save the world when this happened, at least that's what I hope. The few times I talked to him, he said he wanted to be the greatest sidekick ever, he wanted kids and everyone else to stop looking up to the superhero, and start giving some credit to the other hero that fought evil too. He was such a good kid, that's why I hope he died doing what he really wanted to do.

The police officers that brought his body told me that he was killed around midnight, in the streets of our lovely New York City. They said it had been a fight, between two good guys and one bad guy. Well, I guess the bad guy had miles and miles of rope with him and was unbelievably agile to do this without the other good guy helping out. Must have been a bad guy with powers, must have been a villain.

I feel a weird sting in my chest. I remember someone who could cause such damage and such marks. Not to this extent, though, but it's been seventeen years already. I shake my head and rub my chest softly, trying to make the sting go away.

I grab my phone and call Clara Beaufort. She's my friend, and a detective. She has been moving from one state to another for the past twenty years, and I've heard she's solved every case she's sticked her nose into. She's been working in New York for almost seven years now.

"Hello?" she picks up.

"Hey, Clara," I clear my throat as I keep my hand on my chest. "I have a body in my lab. He was murdered last night in—"

"Oh, yes. That poor man," she said before I could say where he was killed. "Strangled, I presume?"

"Maybe," I decided to keep the details for the police report. "Listen, I have a question. Do you know, by any chance, if the person he was with when he died was… a superhero?"

I whisper that last word, thinking it sounded almost ridiculous.

Clara scoffs.

"Yeah, 'super' all right. More like an amateur," she told me. "The attacker, however…"

She blows air out of her mouth.

"What about them?" I stick my phone closer to my ear.

"I've heard more than one case like this one," she swallows hard, probably taking a sip of her signature black coffee. "Back in Chicago, about eight years ago. Wasn't my case, but I heard from a fellow detective."

I've lived in Chicago. Hell, I went to college in Chicago, how didn't I know about this?

"You mean like, the attacker has powers?"

"What did you think? A normal person can't kill someone like that, even if they have a truckload of rope" she says bluntly.

"And what happened?" I mean in Chicago, and my voice sounds desperate, I know she notices it.

"I shouldn't have said anything, Nat," she sighs. "Don't obsess over it. Just write the report and give it to the police. That's your job."

She hangs up on me.

I can't believe this. There's a villain in New York, and I'm here to take a look at the corpse of every damn victim they leave behind. I pull the white sheet back over Tim's body and continue with my job, unable to take that thought out of my head .

I turn the lights off and call it a day once the clock strikes 9:00 pm. The only thing I need right now is my bed, a good glass of wine and a terrible movie. I hate terrible movies, but I like having some voices in the house, even if their dialogue is cheesy.

I have a car, but sometimes I prefer to walk, like this morning. If only I had known I wasn't gonna be in the mood for walking by the time my shift was over.

It's not that far, though, so I walked. My heart starts beating faster, it's strange, I don't even know why. But then Tim comes back to my head. Poor Tim, those marks on his body. And again, I think again about the person I knew who could do something like this with his powers. I don't know anything for sure, and I don't know if I want to know any of this for sure, but my mind wanders as I walk home under the pale and flickering lights.

Home, sweet home. I put my key into the lock and the old door creaks as I swing it open. It's an old building, but I love it, and the thing that I love the most about it is that I can afford it.

I run upstairs and get into my apartment, that's waiting for me with all the lights out. Electricity is expensive, and I don't really need it that much, my power helps me a little in that department. I pour some wine on a glass and jump to my bed, kicking my shoes off. I turn on the tv and The Real Housewives of Somewhere is on.

My mind starts wandering again, so I grab the remote and start changing channels compulsively. The news pop up, and I see a lot of blue and red lights flashing and hear a lot of sirens. I straighten my back and sit on the bed, placing my wine on the night table.

"Two more victims," the news presenter says. "Are we dealing with a serial killer? Or a villain? Stay tuned."

They cut to commercials, but I keep my eyes glued to the screen, my mouth is open. I look out the window and I can see the lights from here. I bite my lip as my mind wanders yet again.

What if he is the one murdering these people?

I feel a headache coming, so I lay on my back.

I don't know if it's him, I don't even know where he is right now. I haven't thought about him in a long time, but my mind wanders, it always does, so I start remembering the day I saw him become a villain.