Title: A Whole New World (With You) [Part Seven]
Rating: R (for now)
Length: 5000
Notes: Hope everyone is having fun reading this so far!
It's so invigorating to know that she's at least twenty or so miles away from civilization.
She only found this warehouse on a whim – she was out flying, heading for a place Google Maps found her when she spotted this place – but it's quite possibly the best find she's had in a while.
The warehouse isn't huge, in fact, it's more like a barn than a warehouse, but it's got plenty of what Santana likes to call 'toys' inside.
The walls are covered in decaying paint, there probably used to be an upper level but it looks like the floor caved in at some point so now it's just one conjoined room, and the majority of the windows are broken.
The toys she's referring to are mostly broken down vehicle parts like an 18-wheeler cab and a few truck engines, but there's also a few metal beams that look like they once held up something – the upper level, perhaps? – and Santana grins when her eyes land on them. They're perfect punching bags.
See, being super-strong and everything definitely has it perks. But when she wants to let out a little frustration by kicking the crap out of something, the options of what that something is, are usually very few. Once she tried to use an airplane she found on an abandoned airstrip as a punching bag, because it was made from titanium and every other metal she'd punched had just crumbled beneath her touch, but that resulted in a near compound fracture of the wrist and several definite broken metatarsals.
Ouch.
So now she tries to avoid vehicles made from titanium. Saves a painful three hours of super-fast healing.
That also means that when she finds a place like this, full of these 'toys' and training equipment, she's basically over the freaking moon. Because not only does it mean she'll be able to practice her very own version of Kung Fu, but she gets to do some strength training, too. Most of the time she spends her training times on cardio, so this will be a nice break.
Making her way over to the 18-wheeler cab, Santana limbers up with a few lunges, some arm stretches and a couple of star jumps. Her gym teacher actually told her once that star jumps were the best type of warm up, because they work most parts of the body and gets the blood pumping and heart going.
She reaches over and with a little struggle, picks up the 18-wheeler cab and lifts it above her head. Sure, she's strong and all, but even this comes with a little difficulty and it'd be good to gain some strength.
She does a few lifts, inhaling when pushing up and exhaling when dropping down and feels the first rush of adrenaline pulse through her veins. That's one of the best things about training, she thinks, because it gets he pumped for more and more, and this is definitely a place she could let her emotions out on. Emotions about that guy, Russel Fabray and those fluttering ones that she always gets when she's around Brittany. This is her place where she can relieve herself of her days and it's rare that she finds a place quite like this. They only come every now and then, twice every three months, maybe? So she's definitely going to make the best of it.
Another good thing, is that whenever she gets a place like this, because they're so rare she gets to do a small comparison between visits. The last time she found a place like this was four months ago, and back then she couldn't lift a 18-wheeler cab like she's doing now. Easy isn't what she'd describe it as now, mostly because she can feel the muscles in her back and arms straining already, but it's definitely improved.
Although recently, she's beginning to question whether training is a good thing or not.
On one hand, she knows this is good. If Russel Fabray ever got his dirty little hands on her, she could get away. She could use these powers and this strength she's built over months and months of hard, heavy training and escape whatever Russel's doing.
But on the other hand, if there was a slight possibility that Russel had already taken possession of other mutants in the world – with powers Santana knows not of – then she might not be able to escape. She might not be able to and then he'd have a stronger, more advanced mutant in his hands in the form of Santana.
And sure, Russel Fabray might not be as bad as Holly explained. Santana's considered that. He might not actually be doing anything wrong, apart from the fact he's working for Vengeance Corp. But there's something tugging at the back of her mind that says that he's not someone to be trusted. Holly's already shown her that there's plenty of brain-washed mutants with no idea of what Vengeance Corp. do, and they just parade straight into Russel's arms and God only knows what happens to them next.
Santana won't let that happen to her though. She doesn't know what's going on behind-the-scenes at Vengeance Corp, nor does she know why Russel needs to steal mutants DNA or why he's lying to get mutants to come out and go to him, but she won't let it happen to her. She wants to know his angle, almost as badly as Holly does, she thinks, but she can't do that unless she sticks her nose into other people's business and to be honest? She's not sure she wants to run the risk of doing that.
So for now, she'll just keep training and training.
And cling to the hope that she won't be found.
Santana wasn't doing much apart from sitting on her butt, munching on a banana and watching the TV when it came on.
It was one of those breaking news things that interrupts programs whenever they want, and it bugged her because she was just getting into that Mila Kunis movie but breaking news is 'breaking' news and so she paid attention.
The anchor came on screen, a guy in a plain blue suit with silver hair and too-white teeth, and he shuffled his papers around before turning towards the camera with a stern expression.
"The news at 7. The top stories tonight: the man who was born with one ear, can he really sue God? And the fourteen year old flying queen. Is it true that mutants do exist on our planet? Find out more after the weather with Jane Michaels."
Santana shot up from her seat, eyebrows up by her hairline and jaw slack. Shit. Another mutant came out? What the hell was wrong with these people? Was Santana the only slightly smart mutant? Seriously. It was pretty damn suspicious. Some random guy popped up from nowhere asking for any mutants to come to him and he would offer them help and advice? Nothing comes free in life. There's always a catch. But apparently Santana and Holly were the only ones to see that.
The weather girl faded off screen with a Cheshire grin on her face and Santana paid attention to the anchor again. He spoke about the guy with one ear – which, yes, Santana did actually laugh a little at – but then he began on the mutant story and every sense she had was locked onto the TV screen.
"Fourteen year old Helena Johnson came out today, revealing the secret she's been holding for years. This young girl, barely through her Freshman year at Christopher Higgin's High school decided it was time to show the world the real her and took to the skies of Boston, unveiling her hidden powers. Luckily enough, Mr. Russel Fabray of Vengeance Corporations – a man who only a few weeks ago, came out himself – was there to help this youngster cope with the psychological and emotional effects of this drastic change and has been taken under his care for now..."
The rest was lost on Santana. Her mind was boggled and there was a low humming sound in her ears. This couldn't be happening. People were actually buying this crap about 'psychological and emotional effects' bullshit? Santana felt anger fizzle beneath her skin at the thought.
"Another one out, mija?"
Santana let out a small grunt in acknowledgment to her abuelo's words.
"This is a good thing, Santana. This means you can eventually come out, too."
Her head whipped around, and eyes narrowed into a glare. "No, abuelo. I can't come out. This guy–Russel Fabray... I mean–Just look at him!" She hissed, gesturing towards the TV sharply where Russel Fabray stepped towards the newest mutant, Helena, and embraced her. She snarled towards the TV, her fists shaking almost uncontrollably on the cushions of the sofa she was sat on. "He's just so fake!"
She didn't have to turn around to see her grandfather's quizzical stare. After all, she hadn't told him about what Holly said. That would make him worry, thinking she was out at night whilst this guy was trying to get mutants to come to him for unknown reasons. Unknown most likely dangerous reasons.
"C'mon, abuelo. Seriously. Don't you think it's the tiniest bit suspicious that this guy comes out of nowhere and asks for these mutants to reveal themselves? Only weeks after revealing himself?" She swallowed the lie on her tongue. If only her grandfather knew Russel Fabray was lying about his mutant DNA. Then he'd be on her side. "Then he just happens to take them under his care? Seriously," she huffed and leaned back against the sofa. "Something's going on."
Her grandfather stood from his chair, resting his palm on his hip as he hobbled his way towards the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. "Well don't feel pressured to come out, mija."
Santana shook her head. She wouldn't be pressured into it. There's no way she would. But there was a pressure on her and it was to find out more about what the hell was going on. Russel Fabray was already winning because of that, and she guessed that's how he lured all the other mutants into showing themselves.
Ugh, even thinking about it wound her up.
"I'm going out," she announced, standing abruptly and darting towards the front door in a flash. The only thing that stopped her was her grandfather's voice calling her back.
"Where are you going?"
"I've just gotta get out of here, abuelo," she sighed and focused on not tightening her grip on the door. She didn't feel like coughing up another few hundred dollars to buy another one.
Her grandfather stepped out into the living room, and she caught him in her peripheral vision. She didn't look at him, though. "You're only as strong as your mind is, Santana," he told her. "So don't push yourself."
She managed a small smile and darted towards him, pressing her lips to his wrinkled cheek. "I know, abuelo. Thank you," she whispered, feeling a wave of gratitude for him caring for her. "I'll be back in a few hours."
And then she was gone.
Leaving the screen door to bang on the door frame as she whooshed off into the night.
She thinks maybe because after leaving the house that night, she didn't find anywhere to release her anger, that was the main contribution to her uncontrollable shaking fists in the library with Quinn.
The frustration and need for release was still burning through her and she just needed to get it out.
Which is what she's doing right now.
Anchoring her feet to the ground, Santana raises her fists and blocks her face. Her opponent is the metal beam she propped up a minute ago, so it's not like it's going to fight back, but she needs to imagine that it will. Someday, she'll probably come across someone that can get a punch in at her, and she has to know how to take it like a man. She needs to know how to fight back after a blow and stand her ground. Sure, the superhuman thing will already give her an advantage, but fighting is something she needs to learn. Especially with Russel Fabray's plans going on around her.
She bounces forward, jabbing the metal with a right hook and feels it bend beneath her knuckles. On the bounce back she ducks and keeps her fists up. That was one of the first things she ever learned during training, back when she used to use an actual punchbag, was to move out the way of the return punch. The first time she did it, she hit the punchbag, completely unaware of how hard her punches were and didn't move out the way when it swung back and then towards her speedily. It knocked her off her feet and it just so happened that her flying skills kicked into motion because it send her careering through one of the concrete walls of the boxing gym she was in.
The police assumed it was a break-in. Little did they know a fourteen year old girl with superhuman tendencies was the real cause of the four foot wide hole in the wall.
Santana pushes a lock of hair behind her ear and tilts her neck to the side, cracking it before she makes her next move. A burst of energy later, and she shoots forward, wrapping both arms around the beam and pretending to hold it in a headlock, despite the beam actually being at least three feet taller than her. She releases it quickly, darting over the other side of the warehouse and grabs a hold of a rusting barrel (seriously, what's up with all these barrels in warehouses?) and throws it in the direction of the beam.
It hits it with complete accuracy of course, and she smirks towards herself before jumping into the air and throwing herself forward, the air rushing past her before she comes down on the beam, it snapping beneath the power of legs. Sliding down the broken beam like she would on the banister of a set of stairs, Santana twists and just lets go. She punches. Punches again and again, images of Russel Fabray, Jesse St. James and everything that pisses her off flashing through her mind as the fuel to her punches. She keeps going, delivering sharp jabs left, right and center until the beam is almost unrecognizable and until she can feel blood trickle down her hand from where her knuckles have split.
She keeps going until the once-beam falls to the left, letting the top half slide off and clang to the ground with a heavy sound and until there's a layer of sweat covering her skin, making her hair stick to her forehead. But even then she just moves onto the next thing and zaps to the other side of the warehouse in under a second, grabbing the 18-wheeler cab she was lifting and throwing it towards the other end. The noise is makes when it crashes through the brick wall of the warehouse is like a gunshot to Santana's ears, and she covers them, immediately panicking when her eyes zoom in and land on a few barrels with 'explosive liquid' stickers stuck on the sides, about three seconds away from the flying 18-wheeler cab.
Shit!
She stretches out her hand, like it'll take back what she just threw but it's too late. There's a huge explosion and a flash as a ball of fire implodes and takes the form of a small mushroom. Santana doesn't have time to react before she's flying backwards, inwardly yelling at her reactions for not kicking in quick enough and bursts through the brick wall herself. Pain surges through her and she squeezes her eyes shut as she lands and skids along the dirt track, the pieces of gravel ripping through her shirt and nicking at her skin.
Blinking away the pain, Santana lets out a loud groan and clutches at her shoulder, feeling the muscles and bones reject the movement immediately. But it's not over yet and luckily in her peripheral vision she catches the sheet of metal soaring through the air towards before it hits her and forces herself to flip onto her feet, crouching and jumping into the air – high and long enough to miss the cut-throat edges of the metal, but not high enough that she doesn't catch her foot on the tip of the sheet and falls forward, landing face first in the gravel.
Sharp stings prick across her face, but by the time she takes notice of them and pushes her palms to the ground to go onto all fours, they're gone. This super-fast healing thing is really helpful sometimes, but it'd be good if it came with some type of anesthetic. Instead of skipping the healing process it just does it really fast, which means all the pain comes at once.
Santana climbs to her feet, moving her jaw around until it clicks and relives some of the pain. She dusts down the front of her pants and groans at the ache radiating through her body. She been through a lot of accidents and injuries, but this was her first explosion and screw going through that one again. At least now she can say she's a real hero. Even if no-one was around to see it.
She glances up when she's finished brushing off her clothing, and her eyes almost pop out her head. Apparently the explosion was bigger than she thought, and she's actually grateful she was thrown from the building because now... Well, there is no building. Just a pile of burning rubble.
"Whoa..." she mutters to herself, eyebrows up by her hairline.
She was inside of that only a minute ago and even though she's pretty sure she's like, invincible or whatever, she knows that she can still be injured and can still break bones, and to be honest she's glad she didn't try out the what-will-happen-if-a-burning-building-collapses-on-me test. Not entirely sure if she would've made it out alive.
For several long moments she just stands there, staring at the once-building whilst a plethora of what ifs run through her mind, setting a low buzzing in her ears. She can't seem to get it out of her mind that not only could she have been in there, but she freaking caused that. Sure, her powers didn't actually create the explosion, but they contributed to it. If she hadn't let her strength run free and hadn't thrown that 18-wheeler cab across the length of the building, it wouldn't have hit the explosive barrel of liquid and wouldn't have, well, exploded.
And that means she wouldn't be out here. Alive and breathing.
She'd still be inside. Trapped. In the middle of nowhere. With no-one knowing where she is and no-one being able to hear her. Not to mention the unknown extent of her injuries.
Shit. She could've died in there.
(If she can even die.
She's still not willing to test that theory, though.)
Letting out a long exhale, she looks towards the ground before taking a seat, planting her feet on the ground and bending her legs at the knee, arms resting on top as her eyes roam over the scene in front of her. And that's when it hits her: she can never lose control. Just imagine what would have happened if someone had been around too, they could've been seriously hurt.
Santana glances away, her thoughts getting too much and balls her fists against her kneecap. She didn't even know she was losing control until it was too late and now look what she's done. Bringing her hands up to her face, she buries into them and lets herself drown in the mixed emotions curdling inside of her. Fear, shame, concern.. All of the above.
Because the first rule of being a superhuman? Never lose control.
She just broke it.
"What the hell, Q?" Santana screeches when a pile of hardback books land on her lap; she guesses if she were human it probably would've hurt.
She takes a quick peak around the library but finds no-one's looking at her. Good. She wasn't too loud.
Quinn ignores her and slumps down in the chair opposite Santana, doubling over and burying her head into her arms. "Shut up."
"Okay..." she drawls, plucking the books off her lap. "What's wrong with you?"
"My dad."
A perfect eyebrow arches. "What did he do?"
Quinn groans loudly, attracting the attention of the old library assistant and Santana flashes an apologetic smile in return. The blonde sits up, but leans heavily into the back of her chair and hangs her head, shaking it slightly. "He wants me to do something..." she says, almost in a whisper. Santana picks up on the way the girl's hesitating and wonders if she should just change the subject. "And I said I wouldn't do it."
"Right. Not to like, anger you or anything, but why has that made you that damn angry? Did you two have a fight or something?"
Quinn finally looks up and runs her fingers through her short hair exasperatedly. "No. He's just been–he's just been so damn–fuck. He's being really weird at the moment," she settles on and Santana can practically feel the heat radiating off the girl.
"Well, why won't you do it? It can't be that bad."
"That's because you don't know what it is," the blonde girl scoffs and shifts forward to lean her elbows on the table, head in her hands.
"Yeah, but he's your dad. It can't be that bad," Santana tries but the other girl still seems doubtful. "I mean, if I still had my parents I'd do whatever they wanted 'cos they wouldn't purposely get me into trouble. Parents don't do that."
Quinn's head snaps up, her eyes growing wider by the second. "You're an orphan?"
Shit. She wasn't meant to say that. Santana gulps and hooks a finger into the collar of her shirt, skimming it from side to side to relieve some of the pressure. Is her shirt getting smaller?
"Well yeah. My parents died when I was a kid," she murmurs lowly, hoping the other girl won't ask more about them. The last thing she wants to do is spend a few panicked minutes trying to come up with a lie to replace 'some assholes killed them because they were had superpowers.'Not sure that'd settle well with Quinn.
And Quinn doesn't. Just tilts her head to the side and worries her bottom lip between her teeth. "Shit, I didn't know. I'm sorry, S."
Santana shrugs and nervously toys with the pencil between both hands. "Don't worry about it. I'm used to it."
"Wait... Who do you live with?"
Seriously. She's regretting being so kind about this. If she'd been upset, angry or hurt she doubts Quinn would be asking questions. She notes that down for future use. "My grandparents."
Quinn's eyebrows raise. "Grandparents? That must be tough."
Santana pulls her lips down at the side and shrugs again. "Not really. I mean, sometimes it's hard but I love them," she answers, honestly. "They took me in when they didn't have too and they treat me like their kid. I kind of owe them big time."
"Yes, they did."
"Did what?"
"They had to take you in."
Santana stills. Crap. Why does she keep screwing up? After a minute or two she sucks in her lips and begins to twirl the pencil again between her fingers. And then a second later, she figures there's no way to get out of this and honestly? Who's Quinn going to tell. She has about as many friends as Santana does so it doesn't matter if she says a little something.
"They didn't, actually. They're not my real grandparents."
Quinn stares at her, eyebrows pulling together in the middle like she just heard Santana speak Japanese. "Who are they then?"
Santana drops her pencil and clears her throat, reaching for the textbook. She's never really ever talked to anyone about her grandparents, apart from Sam – but even then he didn't pry like Quinn's doing – and it's kind of strange. She flips open a textbook, no clue as to what one, and begins to 'read' over the page when really her mind's just going a mile a minute. How is she going to explain this without it seeming weird?
"They–uh, they're friends of my, um, parents," she explains, nervously. Maybe if she just tells the actual story, but leaves out the whole mutant/superpowers thing it won't seem so suspicious. "They were, I mean," she corrects herself and begins to scribble down in her notebook random sentences from he textbook. "They just offered to talk me in after the murder," she shrugs. "It's what my parents wanted."
Quinn begins to do the same, and reaches over to pull the books Santana took off her lap towards her. She skims through a few, nodding whilst silence settles between them but them something clicks and she looks up, head tilted. "Wait... Was your parents death expected?"
"No," Santana answers, quickly. She thinks it might have been a bit too quickly. "But, you know, they just wanted to make sure if anything did happen, I was in safe hands. So, yeah."
Quinn narrows her eyes. "Sounds kind of weird."
"I know, but my abuelos are incredible to me," she replies and knows she's not even lying. "So can't really complain."
Quinn stares at her for a long moment like she wants more information, but just ends up smiling and turns her attention to her textbook.
Santana goes training the following night and focuses on controlling herself. It's pretty hard work but when is it ever not? Being a mutant isn't all what it's made up to be. You've gotta learn how to control your powers and that only comes with practice.
Anyway, she comes back a little later than usual – midnight, she notes – and drops down into the tree in her backyard as per usual. Because she's so tired, she doesn't land with that much precision and ends up slipping off one of the branches, catching her elbow on the bark of the trunk and creating a three inch gash running from the tip of her elbow to mid-forearm. Crap. She may have healing powers but scars are still scars.
Groaning and feeling her skin piece itself together again, Santana jumps from the tree and lands in a crouch, hands pressed to the dew covered grass. She's about to stand when she hears a heartbeat and whips her head around, finding a smirking blonde leaning on the fence about two meters away from her. Double crap.
"So, you climb trees at midnight?"
Santana begins to panic. Her eyes grow wide and she looks back towards the tree, then up at the sky and chews on her bottom lip. Did Brittany see her flying? Shit. "Uh... Did you–I mean, how long have you been standing–"
"Only just got here," the blonde girl cuts in, the smirk growing on her face. "Walked in when I heard you swearing."
Santana squints. Did she swear? "Oh, right. Yeah, sorry," she stutters and tells herself to stop fidgeting. That'll just make the other girl even more suspicious. "Yes. I do." Brittany seems quizzical so Santana elaborates. "Climb trees at midnight," she shrugs. "It's a hobby."
If Brittany didn't think she was lame before, now she's definitely thinking that.
The blonde smirks though, and slowly tilts her head to the side. Her eyes are blue and piercing and she's staring so much it's like she's trying to read a 6th graders book when she's only at 2nd grade herself. Santana almost smirks herself at the ability to be unreadable. If that's even a word.
"At midnight?" Brittany presses, suspicion clearly growing in her expression.
And then the response comes so easily to Santana she actually grins, and all panicked feelings disappear from her body. This is slowly turning into a game of who can trip up first. "Well you are the one standing in your backyard watching me climb trees at midnight."
It takes four and a half seconds, but then Brittany's smirk fades into a knowing grin and she begins to shake her head, stepping away from the fence and sucking in one side of her mouth like she knows she's just been owned. Santana just continues to smirk and watches as the other girl begins to move towards the backdoor of her house, eyes still completely trained on Santana.
"Touche, Lopez," Brittany says, almost in a shout because she's so far away. "Touche."
Santana grins widely and feels her heart flutter inside her chest as Brittany flashes one last grin before disappearing inside.
And Santana has to admit, she thinks she's going to like this little game they're playing.
Enjoy it?