A/N: This part is also based on Action Comics #01 (The New 52 series)
Rachel Berry has no idea why she keeps buying this brand of soda. It's too flat and too sweet.
Oh well.
She takes another sip from the can.
Rachel is currently in a secret underground military base. She was asked by the US government to help with the removal of a certain pest. Even if they agreed to pay her ridiculously high consultancy fee, Rachel would have refused. Luckily, their problem seemed to be worthy of her superior intellect.
"When it first appeared, the 'Superwoman' could toss trucks around and use skyscrapers as spears. Now, six months later, it's faster, stronger. How long before it becomes unstoppable?"
Rachel rolls her eyes. Pierce is such a worry wart. Doesn't he know he has the most brilliant human mind within reach?
She hears Pierce sigh.
"If I had an army of men like this 'Superwoman'…urgh. How do they expect me to call it that?"
She takes another sip.
"It was your daughter who named the creature, General Pierce. Notice how it didn't refuse the name."
Frankly, Rachel's getting a bit tired of this conversation.
"You boasted that you could deliver Superwoman before eight pm. The money we're giving you is off the charts, and we aren't prepared to pay you past that time. Understood, Berry?"
"I could have spent a few more dollars on props and drained your entire Steel Soldier budget dry," she says disdainfully.
Rachel feels Pierce's eyes, ehem, piercing holes into her skull. She allows herself to smirk.
"But I love my country. All I ask is information, Daniel. Once given that, I can prove to you, once and for all, that a monster is walking among us."
Santana laughs to herself. Do they really think they can catch her?
Suddenly, she picks up panicked words.
"It's turning this way!"
"What the hell are they doing?"
"Somebody tell them to stop!"
"There are people in here!"
This chase can continue later. There are people to save.
Rachel watches the screen. She sees people and their pets cowering as a wrecking ball hovers close to them. She knows Superwoman won't be able to resist.
"McKinley Square is the ideal inescapable trap," she says out loud, for the good of the average-minded general.
"In it are buildings scheduled for demolition. But these buildings aren't entirely uninhabited…"
"You're risking the lives of innocent citizens?"
"You wanted Superwoman, didn't you?"
Santana watches as the wrecking ball hurdles towards the building. There are people inside. She rushes towards it, and using her arms, slows it down.
The ball stops. She tears the metal chain connecting it. to the vehicle The people in the building are still cowering in fear.
"Stick with me," she calls out to them. "I'm making—"
She lifts the sphere.
"—a way—"
She spins and releases it, making it go through an empty wall.
"—out."
She flies towards the gaping hole, holding up the wall to keep it from collapsing.
The civilians stand up and rush out.
Okay; they're good. Now, Santana needs to have a little talk with the—
"Fuck! They got street tanks!"
Uh oh.
"YOU ARE UNDER ARREST."
Santana turns, just in time to see a net envelope her.
"Really, you think this is eno—"
She sees electrons run through the wire, just before she feels them pass through her.
"GAAAAHHHH!"
Mini-fireworks explode inside her vessels. She has to get out.
She pulls on the net of wires. They increase the intensity of the current, but she's out.
And she's angry.
Her eyes glow red as her hand moves to the chain connected to the wrecking ball.
"You. Run."
She rushes to the tank.
"What's she doing?"
"No, that's impossible…Tank 2!"
"They said she was strong, but that's…"
"TANK 2! FIRE!"
Too late. The sphere connects.
The tank explodes.
Santana's blinded by the light, and it hurts. A lot.
"Ow."
"I'm reloading the cannon."
"No, wait! Hold up, the civilians—"
Santana opens her eyes to find the people she saved standing between her and the tanks.
"Enough! This girl saved our lives!"
"What the fuck is wrong with you people!"
Santana feels someone carrying her to her feet.
"Get outta here, we'll cover you," a man says.
"Can you really jump over the Metropolis Tower?" asks a woman.
Santana smiles a little.
"Never tried from here. Stand back, and we'll see. Oh, and thanks."
She hears the sound of sirens.
Quinn can see her up ahead, within a crowd of civilians and police cars.
"They got her," she shouts into the communicator, "McKinley Square! Send in the robocopters!."
They haven't used the automated flying laser gun in years. But nothing else seemed to stop the girl.
She watches as the robocopters descend from the sky and swarm around the girl.
Quinn hears her shout.
"Don't get into trouble on my account. If you need me, I'll be around."
The robocops fire, and the lasers block the girl from Quinn's vision. In seconds, they dim, and…
…she's gone.
"Chang," she says as she gets out of the car, "send status report to home base."
She hears him speak into the communicator as she walks to where she last saw the girl.
"We lost her. One minute she was there, the next…"
Quinn bends her knees to take a closer look at the crater where the girl once was.
"We used to have laws in this town," she murmurs to herself.
"Like gravity. I remembered gravity."
That girl had super strength, super speed, the ability to fly, god knows what else…
…what is she?
The coast is clear. The copter spotlights are looking in other directions.
Santana descends from the blimp she was hiding under, down to the top of an apartment building. She takes off her cape and quickly stuffs it in the laundry basket she keeps in an abandoned air vent. She takes off her shirt as well, then places on a loose shirt and a pair of glasses that she keeps in the same basket. She replaces it, just before she hears the door open.
It's Mrs Nyxly, her landlady.
"Oh. My. God. Santana, what did they do to your pretty face?"
Santana sees the worried look on the middle-aged woman's face. She really hates lying to her, but she has to do what she has to do.
She repositions the glasses that are askew on the bridge of her nose.
"I, er… I wrote about the Titan's hold on the underground, Mrs N. Seems like they don't take kindly to people who tell the truth about them."
She hears a disapproving click from Mrs Nyxly.
"And they'd hit a girl half their size?"
Santana scrunches her nose, causing her glasses to drop. She must stop doing that. She pushes her glasses up.
"Nah, don't worry about me, Mrs N. I grew up in Lima. A farmgirl like me can handle anything the city can throw."
She hears Mrs Nyxly sigh.
"You're an inspiration, Santana. And that's not just coming from me. My nephew, my daughter-in-law, everyone I know reads your work. What you write changes lives."
Santana blushes.
"I—I'm just doing my job. But thanks, Mrs N."
She walks into her room, followed by Mrs Nyxly.
"That, however, does not excuse the rent. This week's nor last's."
Santana turns around to face the landlady, thumbs pulling her front pockets.
"Don't worry Mrs N. The story that got me beaten up also got me a paycheck. Wait right there."
"That's a good girl."
Santana shuffles through her clothes. She swore she left it here somewhere…oh god. What if she dropped it? Think Santana, think…distract her. Yes.
"Did you hear about Superwoman dropping those robbers into an open sewer?"
Good enough, she supposes.
"I heard about a woman over in Bakerline whose husband was beating her up every night. Superwoman heard her crying and saw him abusing her and threw the guy out the window and into the river. They say he broke both his hips and four ribs."
Wow…she didn't mean to do that. She just wanted to warn him, that's all.
"This door needs a better lock," she hears Mrs Nyxly say.
Santana shakes her head. He was beating her up anyway. Karma, right?
"I think it's your responsibility, Mrs N. Since you're the landlady and all. Besides, there's nothing here worth stealing. Unless you count my books."
Yes! She finds a wad of cash in the front packet of the jacket she wore yesterday.
"I just want you to be safe, that's all I'm saying. Superwoman or none watching over us. This ain't Beverly Hills. It's the Metro Heights Adjacent."
Santana stands up and walks over to Mrs Nyxly, handing her the money.
"If I said it once, I've said it a hundred times. You're a good girl, Santana, unlike some of the so-called geniuses that I have to put up with."
Santana chuckes.
"Did Sugar try singing again?"
A look of distaste flashes across Mrs Nyxly's face.
"Don't even remind me. Artists, musicians, models, whatever it is…they basically mean 'professionally unemployed'."
"It's not their fault that no one hires them, Mrs N. They're just doing what they love."
The landlady shakes her head.
"Maybe, Santana. But not everyone's like that. Oh, wait. Two people were looking for you. They said they were your friends. Uh, let me recall now…a Sam Evans and Brittany Pierce?"
Santana almost laughs. Sam's sort of her best bro, but she's pretty sure Brittany hates her. Just because they're from rival newspapers isn't a really good reason for the animosity, right? Okay, so maybe she and Santana get the same material, but Santana gets it first, since she has super speed and senses and all, making Brittany look slow in comparison…that doesn't mean they have to be rivals…right? Well, Sam did say she was pretty ambitious.
"They were very nice and very good-looking. I say, Santana, if you really do know Mr Evans, you should date him. You'd make a beautiful couple."
Urgh. Not again.
"I know them Mrs N. And, uh, trying to focus on work for now. Relationships are sort of distracting."
Mrs Nyxly shakes her head.
"That's what you always say. What happened to Mr Puckerman?"
Santana blanches. The guy who used to be the security guard to the 7-11 across the street, the one who always tried to flirt with her when she tries to buy a slushie, the one with a really bad mohawk?
Ew.
"We never dated. And he's not my type, Mrs N."
"You work too hard, Santana. Really, you should try Mr Evans."
She loves Mrs Nyxly to death, but—oh god. Fuck. She has to call Sam. Now.
She pretends to check her watch.
"Uh, don't want to be rude, Mrs N, but I have to call my story in to the editor."
"That's okay, sweetie. Good night."
"Good night, Mrs N."
Santana rushes down the stairs and opens her phone. She dials his number.
Come on Sam, come on…pick up…yes!
"Sam! Sam Evans! It's Santana Lopez."
5