A/N: Yikes! I apologize for taking so long. I try to do everything as fast as I can, but it didn't work out so well. I had to work a lot of overtime and I kept scrapping large parts of the chapter. I would wake up and say, "Yeah, trash it. Not gonna work." It was very much an uphill battle against myself XD
There are some references to scenes from Ch. 6 (Vigilante) towards the end so if you get there and you're like "Uh… I don't remember this," check Vigilante. You'll know the part when you get to it, trust me.
Song in this chapter:
-"I Can't Get Next to You" by The Temptations (Youtube It: /watch?v=3rP3Hi1f7Og)
In my opinion, this song could be the Fucking Super theme song. The lyrics are so perfect! The chapter title ("All the Powers I Possess") comes from the song.
Because I used italics for everything and it could get confusing, song lyrics will now be denoted with an asterisk (*).
Disclaimer: Glee belongs to RIB/Fox, not me. Songs are owned by their artists/writers/owners.
Chapter 10: All the Powers I Possess
"Artie? Artie got SNIX'd?"
"Yup."
"And that's why he can't walk?"
Ben nodded in confirmation.
"Wow," I said solemnly. "That really sucks."
"Yeah, what a shame," Ben snickered. "Poor Benedict Artie and his useless, noodle legs. Somebody should light a candle. Say a prayer or something."
Usually, Benedict Artie fell under my list of "I don't even want to know" topics, but finding out that I had actually met someone who was a SNIX survivor like me was fascinating. Even if he hadn't been as "lucky" as I had.
"That's pretty fucked up, Ben," I said, scooting back to rest against my headboard. "I know you guys had a falling out, but he was your friend once, right? Don't you feel at least a little bit bad for him?"
Ben looked at me like I was the dumbest person to ever walk the face of the earth.
"Artie Abrams is not, never has been, and never will be my friend," Ben spat. "I've never even met the guy."
"What?" I asked, seriously confused. "How is that even possible?"
"Just because I've thrown fireballs at his head doesn't mean we've ever been formally introduced. He doesn't know me, David, or Puck."
"I don't understand," I said, rubbing my temples. "I thought you guys were all in this together, High School Musical style. Then Artie did something dirty and now everyone hates him."
Ben sighed. "Perhaps I should start at the beginning."
"That would help."
"Okay. Let's start with what you know." He looked at me expectantly over the edge of his glass as he took another sip of lemonade.
"Um…" I tried to remember what Puck had explained to me on the plane. "The military took over Figgins and Tina's project, right?"
"Correct."
"And the test subjects were all disabled vets."
"Correct."
"And Tina invented the chambers because the SNIX process wasn't working out too well."
"Understatement of the century, but essentially correct."
"That's what I know."
"Okay, I'll fill in the blanks," Ben said, settling in next to me at the head of the bed. "I wasn't around when all this shit got started, so I'll tell you what was told to me."
He fiddled with his helmet in his lap, absently locking and unlocking the invisible latches that held it together.
"The military fired everybody at the lab except Figgins, Tina, Himanshu, and Jacob Ben Israel. They hired all new people to work on the project. Artie was hired as a 'junior researcher,' but I guess he thought he was going to be one of the head researchers. That's probably how this whole mess got started."
"Was he pissed?"
"Oh, definitely," Be laughed. "Apparently, Artie wouldn't speak to anyone who had a 'less important' job than his. As for the higher ups, well, he kissed every ass he could get his lips on."
"I guess he wasn't wasting his energy on people who couldn't get him to the top," I said.
"Well, he put that energy to good use. He was only there for a few weeks before him and Tina started… collaborating, if you catch my drift."
I made a loud gagging noise. "First of all, ew. Artie looks like the mouth-breathing love child of Bill Gates and McLovin. Secondly, couldn't she tell he was just using her? Getting on top to get on top? Giving head to get ahead?"
"Tina didn't care," Ben said with a shrug. "According to her, she was cooped up in the lab for so long that she was one strong drink away from getting it on with a member of the Figgins family. Artie was a warm body and slightly more fuckable than everyone else. She actually kinda felt bad because she thought she was leading him on."
"Mutual using, the definition of a healthy relationship."
"Yeah, and it lasted for about a year and a half before they called it off," Ben said. "Artie got fired pretty soon after that."
"Fired? Why? For getting some Cohen-Chang chacha?"
"Because the SNIX process was killing people," Ben said. "The guys who made it through were blowing their own brains out. The whole project was turning out to be a bust and the military wanted the problem fixed."
"And that's why Tina came up with Juicing."
"Exactly," Ben said, "and everybody thought it was a good idea except Artie. He believed in SNIX and he thought they were giving up too soon. He was on a crusade."
"Weird, he doesn't strike me as a boat rocker," I said.
"You met him for all of fifteen minutes," Ben laughed. "I'm sure he didn't strike you as a back stabber, either."
"Good point."
"Artie wasn't on board with the idea and he fought it tooth and nail for months while they were building the chambers. They say he was a real pain in the ass. And sure, Tina and Figgins could deal with him, but you don't tell four-star generals what to do. He showed up to work one day and the military police were already there with his stuff packed up in boxes."
"So they gave him the boot?" I asked. "Just like that?"
Ben shrugged. "It's the military. We don't play that shit. You wanna be insubordinate? Great. Take your toys and go home."
"How did he get SNIX'd then? He got fired and they kicked him out."
"Oh, he didn't stay gone," Ben said, laughing humorlessly. "He came back like a herpes flare up."
He flipped his helmet in his hands. It unlatched and opened, revealing the gunmetal grey interior. The inside of the visor had text scrolling rapidly across it. The back was cushioned and the sides had speaker holes.
"Participant #43 chickened out, so I was the first one to try the chambers," he said. "Juicing turned out to be way more reliable and consistent than SNIXing, so they stuck with it. David and Puck showed up and things were pretty chill for a while."
"Until…"
Ben sighed. "Until #43 changed his mind. He scheduled his appointment and they gave him the location of the site. It was just some tiny little shack out in the middle of nowhere where they did all of the Juicing. Tina and Figgins rode out to the shack and guess what they found."
"Uh…."
"Nothing," Ben said. "All of the Goo they were going to use that day was gone. The chamber was still there, of course. Artie thought he was going to be the one to perfect the SNIX process. He hated chambers. The soldiers let him in and helped him steal everything else."
"But weren't the soldiers part of the military?"
"They were until Artie got to them. He paid them all to pull off this giant heist and he promised to SNIX all of them once he got his hands on the Goo. They stole every single barrel of Goo in that building."
A new message flashed on the display of Ben's helmet. He muttered something under his breath.
McKinley: Three new jobs – Okinawa ($1M), Istanbul ($450K), London ($250K). Okinawa requires flight.
He deleted the message and kept talking.
"Figgins and Tina drove back to the base and within 45 minutes, we were all under arrest."
"Wait, what?" I sat up straighter, looking away from the screen and turning toward him. "You're joking, right?"
"I wish."
More messages popped up as he spoke.
Amsterdam: Plane flight?
McKinley: Nope. Body flight.
"We thought it was all gonna blow over in a few days," Ben continued, deleting messages from his screen. "We were almost at the end of the Juicing cycle, so we only had a couple of days before the effects wore off."
Amsterdam: That's dumb. I'll take London then.
Berlin: I've got contacts in Japan. I'll take Okinawa.
"And suddenly, all these documents came out of nowhere. Records from off-shore bank accounts. Faked e-mails between Artie, Tina, and Figgins that made it look like they were in on the whole thing. Artie couldn't add our names in the e-mails because he didn't know who we were. I guess that's one thing Jacob didn't fucking tell him."
He typed something into his display and fired off a message.
Cairo: I'll take Istanbul.
Optimus: Berlin, you'll need a weapons upgrade. This job's pretty hairy from what I can tell.
"Puck, Himanshu, David, Jacob and I got released at the end of the month. Tina and Figgins stayed in jail."
"Shit, Ben, that's crazy," I whispered. "How long were they there?"
"A year and a half. Just waiting for a fucking trial."
"What about Artie?" I asked, shaking my head in disbelief. "Didn't they catch him?"
"If that fucker knows one thing, it's how to keep his head down. At some point, he SNIX'd himself and came out paralyzed. I would've given anything to see the look on his face when he realized that it didn't work. That he fucked himself up for life."
House: See if you can get the price to go up for London. We need some new equipment.
Optimus: They tend to pay more if you stick around and do some odd jobs on the side while you're in town. Also, stop by Dublin and Paris to collect on some payments.
Berlin: Roger that.
"How did you find out?"
"Jacob said he ran into him randomly on the street and that should have been our first indication that he was a fucking traitor, too. But what could we do? Me and David were rotting away in the veteran's hospital, Himanshu was trying to build things we could use, and Puck was out scraping together money for a lawyer. Meanwhile, Judas Ben Israel was helping Artie."
Cairo: I'm making a stop in Cairo. I'll collect any outstanding debts while I'm there.
McKinley: Good deal.
"Figgins and Tina got off. The evidence was proven to be fake. When they got out, we had nothing. No lab, no Goo. The military took everything. Himanshu managed to put together some pretty badass robots from scrap metal so we could protect ourselves if Artie and his soldiers showed up, but other than that, we were just a ragtag gang of cripples and scientists with no money."
"So the logical conclusion was to become a ragtag gang of terrorists," I muttered, rolling my eyes.
"Why do you keep throwing that word around?" Ben snapped. "Like you even know what it means."
"Why? Does it bother you?"
"No. I just don't see the point in using it."
"I think it bothers you."
"It's a word. It means as much or as little as you want it to mean."
"So what would you like me to call you then?"
"I don't care what you call me," he said, sounding agitated. "It's just another way for you to make this black and white when it isn't."
I pointed to his screen. "What are you planning next, huh? Or should I just watch the news?"
Ben slammed his helmet shut and glared at me. "You're not gonna see anything on the news. When somebody needs something done, we do it. We don't ask questions, we don't take sides, and we don't judge."
"But how do you know you're not hurting innocent people?" I asked. "How do you know you're not making the world an even hotter mess than it already is?"
He picked his helmet up and plopped it in my lap. "Tell me you wouldn't do the same thing if you were me."
"I wouldn't," I said defiantly.
"You wouldn't?" he said. "Really? What if you needed to make billions of dollars a year, just so you could produce a chemical that keeps you functioning? What if you had people telling you that they're this close to curing cancer, AIDS, diabetes, and the fucking common cold? I'm not proud of what I do. I'll be the first one to admit that some of my reasons are selfish. But if Figgins and Tina work this shit out, they could save millions of people."
"And that balances out for you?" I laughed at the absurdity of it. "Kill these people to save those people? That's insane."
He shrugged. "If I don't take these jobs, someone else will. At least this way, the money might help someone. I'm keeping all of that money away from people who could do some really bad shit with it."
"Well, if I were going to use my abilities, I'd want to help people now, not possibly help them in the future," I said. "With the powers that you have, I think you could really do some good things in the world."
"Good things typically don't pay the kind of money we need," he said bitterly.
"You don't know that. I bet you haven't even looked."
"I don't need to look!" he snorted. "I thought I was doing a 'good thing' when I went to Baghdad and you know what I got? A roadside bomb. It burned my skin so badly, my own family couldn't recognize me. You tried to get some lady's stolen purse back and what did you get? Shot in the chest. Twice."
I didn't say anything. I just let him calm down and catch his breath. He sighed and put his head in his hands.
"You can say you're the good guy and you're doing the right thing, but you know what? There's always gonna be somebody there with a bomb or a bullet who thinks they're the good guy and they're doing the right thing." He plucked his helmet out of my lap. "So now you know why I said that there are no sides. Kurt's got his bomb and his 'right thing', we've got ours. If you want to go with Kurt, go with Kurt. I won't even be mad. You get to decide where you want to go. Be your own Sorting Hat."
I raised an eyebrow at him.
"What?" he said defensively. "I read."
"I didn't say anything. Harry Potter is for kids of all ages."
He stood up from the bed and slid his head inside the helmet, then opened the faceplate so I could hear him talk.
"You probably think I'm a horrible person now, don't you?" he chuckled.
I attempted to give an indifferent shrug. "I'm not your mother. You don't need my approval to do anything. I guess you have your reasons, even if I don't agree with them. But if you have your reasons, Kurt probably has his. Hell, Artie and Jacob probably have reasons for doing what they did, too. So if I don't judge you, then I can't judge them, either."
"I suppose you're right," he frowned. "I hate logic sometimes."
"And I already thought you were a horrible person anyway, FYI."
"I figured as much," he said, grinning. He closed his faceplate and opened the window.
I hadn't noticed the weird, book-shaped piece of metal sitting on my desk until Ben picked it up and tossed it out of the window like a Frisbee. A few seconds later, it came whizzing back. It popped open and stretched into the shape of a snowboard and hovered in the air above the fire escape.
For some reason, my stepdad popped into my head. My situation wasn't as extreme as the McKinley team's situation, but I could relate.
"As someone who also does shady shit to pay her bills," I called to Ben as he climbed out of the window, "I really think you can do better than this. I probably could, too."
He hopped onto his board and strapped his feet in.
"Well, if you find me something legit that keeps the Goo flowing, I'm down like a submarine."
And with that, he zoomed off into the sky, leaving me with more questions than answers.
Tina showed up around 10PM.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, looking up and down the hall to see if trouble was lurking around the corner. McKinley people always seemed to show up with bullshit and baggage following close behind.
"I came to make sure you're properly healed," she said.
Her hair had the usual colored streaks in it, but instead of a lab coat, she wore black goth clothes, complete with duct tape accessories and randomly placed safety pins. Her messenger bag had medically themed patches and stickers all over it, like a red cross, the winged staff, and the prescription symbol.
"So you show up unannounced, dressed like Marilyn Manson's primary care physician?"
"Move, Santana." She pushed past me into the apartment, sat down on the couch, and started pulling doctor shit out of her bag.
"I heard you got into a fight with a pair of bullets," she said as she searched through her belongings. "I also heard that the bullets won."
I plopped down on the couch next to her, frowning.
"Why don't you ever take my injuries seriously?" I asked, picking up her stethoscope and hanging it around my neck. "You have the bedside manner of a flaming cactus."
Tina laughed. "Well, you're not going to win any awards for being a cooperative patient."
She picked up a weird, shiny wand and pressed a button, causing it to whir and beep. I scooted back slightly.
"Tina, I'm flattered, but no. If you put that back in your bag right now, I won't tell Puck about any of this."
"It's not a vibrator, smartass. It's a metal detector. I just want to make sure you got everything out. Where's the wound?"
I pointed to my boob and she lifted the wand, holding it steady over the area. After a few minutes, she shut it off and nodded.
"Looks good," she said. "David's gotten lead poisoning a few times. Not pretty. He couldn't charge up. He couldn't even get out of bed."
"Are you kidding?" I scoffed. "That sounds like a vacation. I wish I couldn't charge up. Maybe then I could get my sweet lady kisses on."
Tina handed me a bottle of Gatorade out of her bag. "Sweet lady kisses?"
My face burned when I realized that I probably shouldn't have said that out loud.
Well, you never know. Maybe Tina will be able to help.
I stood up and lifted the couch cushion I was sitting on, revealing the two large burn marks I'd made the night before.
"Every time I'm… intimate with someone, I charge up and I can't control my beams."
Tina just stared at me for a second. Then she burst out laughing.
"Santana, that's horrible!" She laughed so hard, she could barely breathe, that bitch.
"What? You mean that doesn't happen to Puck when you guys fool around?" I asked, flabbergasted.
"God no! That sounds awful!" She wiped her eyes and tried to catch her breath. "Sorry, sorry. That's not funny. That's so not funny."
"You're damn right it's not funny!" I snapped, flipping the cushion back over. "I thought this was normal."
"That's not even a little bit normal," she said. "That's about as weird as it gets."
"That's my life, Tina. My ridiculously ridiculous life." I sat down and put my head in my hands. "I guess that's it, then. I'm gonna have to become a nun. I'm gonna have to go join a nun… herd? What do you call a group of nuns? A flock? A school? A pride of nuns?"
She shook her head. "You really did get the short end of the stick. The guys only charge up when they want to and I doubt any of them are charging up in the bedroom. That's all kinds of kinky."
I punched an ugly couch pillow angrily. "Just what I need. More Incredible Hulk Shit that nobody can help me with. I take it you don't have any sage advice for me, then."
"Not really, no."
"Can you give me lead poisoning or something?"
"Have you ever had lead poisoning? You'd feel like crap. I highly doubt you'd even want to have sex."
"When do I not feel like crap these days? It can't be any worse than getting shot and reverse-shot."
"So if you're a tough, badass chick that takes bullets to the chest, you're not going to freak out when I tell you that I have to take some blood?" Tina reached into her doctor bag and pulled out a needle.
I hopped off the couch. "You're not getting blood out of me, Dracula."
"Don't be such a baby, Santana. If you're good, I'll let you pick the color of your gauze."
She lied. The only color she had was black.
Tina had just finished packing up her stuff when someone else knocked on the door.
I looked through the peephole and grinned. It was Brittany.
As soon as I opened the door, she pounced on me. She dropped all of her bags in the doorway, wrapped her arms around me, and squeezed me painfully hard.
"Oh my god, you're okay!" She lifted me a few inches off the ground.
"Britt," I wheezed. "You're gonna pop my lungs."
"Oh! Sorry!" She set me down and straightened my shirt. "I called Mercedes and she told me about you and Sam chasing that purse snatcher and the guy beat Sam up and now he's in the hospital and I was afraid that you were hurt too, but I didn't know if-"
"Britt, calm down!" I rubbed her arms reassuringly. "I'm perfectly fine. Not a scratch on me."
Except for the booby scar, but let's not talk about that.
Brittany let out a giant sigh of relief. "Good."
She opened her arms again and I stepped into her embrace. This hug was a lot less panicked than the first one.
"I'm glad you're okay," she whispered. She pulled back slightly, looked down at my lips, and leaned in for a kiss.
Tina cleared her throat and shifted her bag awkwardly on her shoulder. Brittany's head snapped up and she immediately released me.
"Hi," Tina said cheerfully.
"Who are you?" Brittany asked with significantly less enthusiasm.
"Brittany, this is Tina," I said, gesturing between them.
Tina stuck out her hand and Brittany eyed it suspiciously before shaking it.
"Nice to meet you, Tina," Brittany said coolly. "You're Santana's… friend?"
"Yeah, I came to check on her too," she said brightly. She tapped her messenger bag. "Brought all of my doctor goodies."
Brittany clenched her jaw. "You're a doctor."
Tina nodded and Brittany's face turned into an unreadable mask.
"I shouldn't have just shown up like this," she said. "I didn't know you had company."
"What?" I shrieked. "No! Tina's leaving! Tina's on her way out the door! Tina's halfway home! Right, Tina?"
Tina nodded vigorously. "I'm so gone! Totally not even here anymore!"
"It's okay, I'm interrupting," Brittany said, picking up the stuff she'd dropped on the floor. "I just wanted to make sure you had this before you went to bed."
She handed me one of the bags and quickly backed into the hallway.
"Have a goodnight, Santana," she said quickly. "Tina, it was nice to… bye."
As she hurried down the hall, I looked into the bag. Mr. Ziggles was sitting at the bottom. His head had been reattached and he smelled like laundry soap.
I sighed. "Tina, can you show yourself out?"
"Sure thing," she said. "Go get your lady."
I walked into the hall just as Brittany stepped into the elevator.
Instead of waiting for another elevator and possibly losing her completely, I charged up a little to get some super speed and ran down ten flights of stairs. I got down to the lobby just as her elevator opened. She was looking down at her phone, texting someone. She lifted her hand and wiped a single tear from her cheek.
She's crying because of you. Fix it.
I rushed over and linked arms with her, swinging us around in a half-circle so that we walked back inside the open elevator door. She jumped, startled by my sudden appearance.
"Santana? How did you get down here so fast?"
"Trap door," I said, pushing the button for the tenth floor. "I had one installed just in case the sweetest girl in the world tried to run away before I had a chance to thank her for fixing my giraffe."
"Where's Tina?" she asked, wiping at her face to make sure her cheeks were dry.
"Pushed her off the roof."
I'm so glad she didn't show up when Tina was holding the vibrator over my boob.
Thankfully, Tina was nowhere to be found when we got back to the apartment. I led Brittany over to the couch, bringing Ziggles with me.
"Thank you so, so much, Britt," I said sincerely. "I really, really appreciate this."
The thread matched his fur perfectly. If I didn't know that he'd been decapitated, I never would've been able to tell.
"He's perfect," I grinned.
"Sorry about all the cat hair," she said, brushing him off. "My cat kept running away with him and hiding under the bed. He's clean, I swear."
"It's okay, I don't mind," I assured her. "He looks better than ever! You washed him and his mane is so shiny. And you did it all in a few hours! You must be like, possessed by Martha Stewart's ghost or something."
"Martha Stewart's not dead," Brittany said. "Is she?"
"Probably not. Still, you've got mad sewing skills. You're amazing."
Even though I knew it would charge me up, I wanted to thank her properly. I leaned over to kiss her on the lips, but she backed away slightly and turned her head.
Ooooo, burn!
"Let's, uh, listen to some music," she said quickly, trying to make the moment less awkward.
She reached over to the coffee table and grabbed one of the four remotes sitting there. After she pressed a complicated series of buttons, the radio came to life, pumping out a funky tune that I didn't recognize.
I bought that stereo and I don't even know how to turn the radio on.
I got warm fuzzies in my cardiac area every time Brittany showed me how comfortable and familiar she was in my apartment. I knew it was because she hung out with Mercedes while I was missing and it had nothing to do with me, but I still had to suppress a dopey grin whenever she made herself at home in my home.
Well, usually I did. Right then, my face was burning with embarrassment.
No sweet lady kisses for you!
"Brittany?"
"Yeah?" She looked down at the remote as if it were suddenly the most fascinating object in the world.
"Do you not want me to kiss you?" I felt like such a loser for even having to ask.
"You were just…" she trailed off, shaking her head. "Forget it."
I put my hands on top of the remote and waited for her to look up at me.
"What's wrong?" I asked gently.
"You were just kissing Tina," she huffed. "I don't think you need any kisses from me."
I made a face. "I wasn't kissing Tina!"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm not dumb, Santana."
"I know that," I assured her. "And I'm not lying to you. Tina really is just my friend. That's all."
Brittany met my eyes briefly and looked back down at the remote.
"I'm your friend, too," she said with a shrug. "You can have a lot of friends. If you want. Doesn't matter to me."
Clearly, it does.
"Trust me, B. She has a boyfriend and she's not interested."
"Are you interested in her?" she asked, watching my face carefully.
"Not at all," I said softly.
Brittany laughed bitterly. "Why not? I mean, she's a doctor so she's super smart. You guys would probably have a lot of interesting stuff to talk about. You could go to museums and look at paintings where you have to tilt your head and say 'hmmmm' to understand what they mean."
I scooted right up next to her and pulled my legs up onto the couch, leaning over to whisper in her ear. "I'm not interested in her because I'm interested in someone else."
Control yourself. You can do this. You don't need Tina or Puck or anybody to tell you how to control yourself.
I took a deep breath and kissed her behind her ear.
1.
"W-who are you i-interested in?" she stammered, leaning her head ever-so-slightly in my direction.
"A friend of mine," I whispered against her skin. "Except she's not the same kind of friend Tina is."
"She's not?"
"Nope," I said, popping the 'p' so that she could feel it.
Brittany's breath caught in her throat as I opened my mouth and gently sucked on her earlobe. I braced myself for the inevitable charge up.
1.
Um…huh?
"Do I- do I know her?"
"You definitely know her." I pressed soft kisses against her neck. "She's sweet. Caring. Funny. Talented. You should see the pictures she takes. They're beautiful like she is. And the messages she hides in them are brilliant. Just like her."
I let the tip of my tongue peek out and graze her throat.
1.
…is this shit broken? What's going on? Maybe I really do have lead poisoning. But I feel fine…
"You really think so?" Brittany whispered, oblivious to my internal confusion. Her hands went to my waist and she pulled me closer.
"I know so. You know what the best part is?"
"What?"
"I don't have to tilt my head and say 'hmmmm' to understand what her pictures mean because she's always there to tell me."
I could feel Brittany's smile grow against my cheek. She grabbed my chin and kissed me soundly on the lips.
3.
I immediately shut my eyes as my vision got hazy.
Oh wait! Damn. There it goes.
"You're so sweet," she said. She started kissing me again and I felt the energy start to swell and surge in my body.
4.
Shit! Too much!
I broke the kiss and went back to the spot behind her ear to buy myself some time. She didn't mind. She moved closer, turning her head to make it easier for me.
1.
The fuck is this? She barely touches me and I'm at level 1,000,000, but I kiss her and I stay at 1? What the f… wait a minute.
Control.
Wait! You learned the scientific method in high school. You have a hypothesis. Test it before you jump to conclusions.
Hesitantly, I trailed kisses across her cheek, slowly making my way to her lips. You would've thought I was walking to the electric chair. In a sense, I was because if I was wrong, the consequences were potentially lethal.
Mustering up all the courage I could manage, I titled my head and, for the first time ever, I kissed her.
1.
She melted into me as my tongue entered her mouth. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to do a backflip. I wanted to dance the Bossa Nova.
Thanks for nothing, Tina!
I thought about all of the times where I'd lost control and charged up involuntarily: Puck and his stupid "boom" thing, Brittany kissing and groping me, random emotional outbursts. They were all moments where I didn't feel in control of the situation, moments when I felt like things were just happening to me.
This I could control.
"Hey," Brittany whispered. "Where'd you go?"
"Got lost in my head a little bit," I admitted. "Sorry, won't happen again."
She grinned and pressed her lips against mine.
2.
Yeah, you're doing a bang-up job of controlling this. Think of something or you're going to have to stop.
"Lay back," I whispered.
Her eyes widened slightly as she swung her legs up and scooted across the couch on her butt to make more room. She lay down and looked at me, waiting for whatever I decided to do next.
Here goes nothing.
I lowered myself on top of her, pressing our bodies fully together. Her eyes got even wider and her mouth fell open.
I was on top of Brittany. I was completely in control of this situation.
0.
Holy shitake mushrooms, Lopez! This might be the most brilliant idea you've ever had!
While I was throwing myself a mental victory parade, Brittany was lying beneath me, looking a little shocked.
"You okay, B?" I asked.
"Yeah," she nodded. "This just feels so much different with a girl."
"Good different or bad different?"
"Good different," she said, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing us together. "I always thought if I tried… being with a girl that I might not like it. I was worried about that." She smiled. "But now I know."
"Good." I pecked her lips. "I'm glad I could help you with that."
She released me from her bear hug and let her hands trail up my sides. "You're so, so soft. So much softer than Tommy. In a lot of ways, actually."
I bit her chin gently. "Hey, you're not allowed to say the T-word during sweet lady kisses."
I bent down, kissing her again. She let out a soft moan, letting her head fall back against one of the ugly couch pillows.
Everything was so much better than before. I wasn't just sitting there, scared to death and getting macked on. I was actively macking. Since I didn't have to worry about dying, I actually got a chance to enjoy Brittany for once. The way she felt, the way she moved.
She was really good at this.
I moved a hand down to the hem of her shirt, letting my fingers graze the small sliver of exposed skin above her jeans. Just as I was about to go for it, the song on the radio ended and a familiar voice filled the room.
"This is B104.7 and you're listening to Midnight Mo!"
It was Mo from "Mo in the Morning."
Brittany grabbed my wrist with one hand and pushed on my shoulder with the other until I sat all the way up.
"Wait," she gasped. "Hold on. Timeout."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She shook her head and tried to slow her breathing. "Just… wait."
While Brittany stopped to rest, Mo kept on chugging. "I'm here in the studio with Radio Randy, bringing you the tunes that will get your night started off right!"
I pulled her hand into my lap. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," she sighed. "I just can't do this while he's talking. It's weird. I'm sorry."
"Who? Mo?" I looked back at the stereo as if I expected him to be standing there, watching us. "I didn't even know he had a weekend show."
"Yeah, weekdays and weekend nights," she said rubbing her temples. "Sorry for being weird. I didn't know we were going to be making out or I wouldn't have turned to this station."
I smiled kindly, kissing the back of her hand. "It's okay."
I'm not exactly sure why you're uncomfortable, but you are, so we'll roll with it.
Mo went through his news and weather while Brittany went to get something to drink. She didn't offer any explanation as to why we took a timeout for Mo's commercial break. She leaned against my shoulder, mostly just waiting but sometimes mouthing what Mo was going to say before he said it. When he finally announced that it was time to start another block of music, she chugged the rest of her drink.
"Radio Randy, how do we wanna kick off this next block?"
Randy laughed. "We haven't had a Tubby Tabby Tune all week and I think we're way overdue, Mo."
"Excellent idea!" Mo said. "Alright, you heard the man, Tubbs. Pick out our next jam."
There was the sound of stuff being shuffled around and from somewhere in the studio, a cat meowed loudly.
"Nicely done, buddy," Randy said.
"DJ Tubberino, ladies and gentlemen!" Mo cheered. "He's on fire tonight, folks. He's picked out a classic hit from those legends of the Motor City, The Temptations. You know, sometimes I swear-"
"-this cat's trying to steal my job," Brittany finished, setting her glass on the coffee table.
When she saw the confused look on my face, she just smiled.
"Alright, Lima," Mo announced, "we're kicking off this fifty-minute music hour with The Temptations, 'I Can't Get Next to You' here on B104.7!"
"We have fifty minutes," Brittany said.
As a bluesy piano riff flowed out of the stereo behind us, Brittany leaned toward me slowly, looking bolder than before. Her hand slid up my arm and pushed against my shoulder, nudging for me to lie back on the couch. I complied with her request, feeling fear settle in the pit of my stomach. What choice did I have? I couldn't really tell her to get off of me.
This is gonna be bad.
"Time in," she whispered. She kissed me as trumpets blared in the background.
2.
*I can turn the greyest sky blue
I can make it rain, whenever I want it to
Oh, I can build a castle from a single grain of sand
I can make a ship sail, uh, on dry land*
My head hit the cushion as she hoisted her lower body up onto the couch, letting her hips fall roughly against mine. I whimpered at the contact and shut my eyes. She released my lips with a loud pop.
"I can't get over how good you feel," she whispered in my ear. I groaned incoherently in response as she latched onto my lips again.
4.
*But my life is incomplete and I'm so blue
'Cause I can't get next to you
I can't get next to you, babe. I can't get next to you
I can't get next to you, babe. I can't get next to you*
We were positioned so far down that our legs were hanging over the arm of the couch.
"Scoot up," she mumbled into my mouth, pushing against me with her body to try and move me. Unfortunately for me, my body interpreted this movement as her grinding her hips against me.
5.
The surging tingle of energy shot up and down my body in waves. Things were escalating entirely too fast and it didn't bode well for either of us.
I needed to do something drastic. Something radical. Something mammary.
*I can fly like a bird in the sky
Hey, and I can buy anything that money can buy
Oh, I can turn a river into a raging fire
I can live forever if I so desire*
With no warning of any kind, I slid my hand up her side and grabbed her boob. I didn't even sexy-grab it, I grabbed it like a claw machine grabs a stuffed animal's head. She gasped and pulled back. I couldn't see the look on her face and I was glad.
"Sorry!" I squeaked. "I got excited! Is this okay?"
I loosened my grip so that I was cupping her gently instead. She hesitated for a moment before responding.
"Yeah," she breathed. "It's okay."
"Good."
Before she could lower herself over me, I pushed her back until she was sitting upright and pinned her to the back of the couch. I swung my leg over her and straddled her lap, shoving my knees deep into the space between the cushions to anchor myself. The nervous energy in my body slowed its frantic flow and I powered down abruptly.
1.
*Unimportant are all the things I can do
'Cause I can't get next to you
I can't get next to you, babe (No matter what I do)
I can't get next to you
Uh-YA!*
I kissed her as I caressed her. She quickly gave up on the kiss, letting her head fall back on the couch. She pulled my other hand up to cup her other breast and sighed as I ran my thumbs over her nipples through her thin bra. Her hands wandered slowly up my sides, stopping short of my own chest and gripping my sides restlessly.
That's probably a little too gay for her right now.
I pressed soft kisses all over her face. I was feeling triumphant. We were doing really well. The Tempations were making choo-choo train noises. Life was grand.
*Woo-Woo-Woo
Woo-Woo-Woo
Chicka boom, chicka boom
Chicka boom, boom, boom*
Then tragedy struck.
Brittany lifted her head and ran her nose up my neck, getting dangerously close to The Spot.
"That feels so good, San," she said, letting out a shaky breath.
2.
The way she said "San" threw me a bit. Brittany could give a detailed description of how enemas work and it would sound sexy, but this was entirely different. How was I supposed to function when breathy pet names were being panted out against my neck? I faltered in my motions, biting back a whimper. As I tried to center myself, she took the opportunity to kiss my neck. There. Yup, right there.
4.
"Holy crow," I moaned, letting my hands fall to my sides.
"I like kissing you here," she murmured. "It makes you sound old-timey."
*I can turn back the hands of time, you better believe I can
I can make the seasons change, just by waving my hand
Oh, I can change anything from old to new
The thing I want to do the most, I'm unable to do*
She started sucking on my neck in earnest just as her phone rang. Still sucking, she tried to fish her phone out of her pocket with one hand. I recognized Quinn's clitblocking ringtone and moved my knee so that she couldn't get to her phone.
"Ignore it," I whispered.
"It's Quinn," she said. "It could be important."
"But I hate her," I whined unattractively.
"Be nice," Brittany warned, lifting her head and giving me a punitive nip on the earlobe with her teeth.
6.
I shuddered violently.
Well, that's new.
"Oh Mylanta," I panted. "Jesus, Britt! Did you just bite me?"
"Did you… did you like that?" she whispered.
I didn't answer. I knew she could feel the heat on my face. I put my hands on the back of the couch trying to stop my limbs from shaking because of the energy rush. She kissed her way back down my neck, phone forgotten.
*Unhappy am I with all the powers I possess
'Cause girl you're the key to my happiness
And I, Oh I*
"I wonder if…"
She grazed The Spot lightly with her teeth, then opened her mouth and bit me there. Hard.
7.
I didn't hear myself yell. I didn't hear the wooden frame creak as I leaned too hard against it. Worst of all, I didn't even feel the super strength build as I proceeded to push so hard, the entire back of the couch snapped off and hit the ground.
Brittany fell backwards, landing on her ass with a thud, and I dropped directly on top of her, sweaty, gross, and suddenly exhausted. I powered myself down, which was really easy now that I was on top and she was traumatized and/or dead. She let out a pain-filled groan and I rolled off of her.
What did you do?
We didn't even say anything. We just kind of stayed there for a minute.
*Can't get next to you!
Girl, you're blowing my mind 'cause I can't get next to you
Can't you see these tears I'm crying? I can't get next to you
Girl, it's you that I need, I gotta get next to you
Can't you see these tears I'm crying? I can't get next to you*
When the song ended, Brittany just kept staring at the ceiling.
She knows. She knows you're a weird super freak and she's probably trying to figure out the best way to get away from you.
Another song started up. I rolled over to face her, ready to try and convince Brittany that this wasn't what it looked like.
"I'm sorry," we said at the same time.
"What are you sorry for?" we both said again.
It would've been funny if it had been a TV show and not my actual embarrassing life.
"I didn't mean to do that," Brittany said, hoisting herself up from the floor.
I did a fish-on-dry-land flail until I got myself into a semi-sitting position. "It's not your fault. It's a sofa bed. It's supposed to do that."
"I wasn't talking about- nevermind." She pulled her phone out of her pocket. "Crap. Quinn's on her way back."
"Quinn's coming here?" I asked, restraining myself from adding the words "ew gross no" to the end of my sentence.
"Yeah, she dropped me off on her way to dinner," Brittany said, walking around the couch and picking her purse up from the coffee table. "Tanaka tagged my car again, so it's back at the shop."
"So when you left here before, where were you going?"
She shrugged. "I have no idea. I just wanted to get out of here."
And now you want to get out of here again. We've come full circle.
It was written all over her face. She wanted to leave and never come back.
I stood up and took both of her hands in mine.
"Britt, I'm so sorry. If I made you uncomfortable or freaked you out, I just-"
A set of keys rattled in the lock and Brittany quickly dropped my hands. Mercedes walked in, followed by Sam, who looked okay if you ignored the giant lump on the side of his head. Behind them, Quinn waltzed in like she owned the place, followed by some random gay guy with a sweater tied around his neck.
"Mercedes, Sam, you're home," I said stupidly. "I thought you were going to stay overnight for observation."
"The doctor said Sam doesn't have a concussion," Mercedes said, angrily pulling food out of the refrigerator. "I think he got his medical degree out of a cereal box."
"It's okay, babe," he said, gingerly poking his lumpy head. "We can go see another doctor tomorrow if it'll make you feel better."
"We better go see another doctor tomorrow," she muttered, pulling two plates out of the cabinet.
I turned to Quinn, who was inspecting the apartment with her nose turned up in the air.
I frowned. "Lucille."
Brittany and Random Gay both gave me weird looks and I suddenly remembered that I only knew Quinn's first name because I delivered a package to her.
Smooth move, Ex-Lax.
Quinn just scowled at me. "Santana. I like your apartment. It's… quaint."
I live in an apartment on the main drag of Lima Heights. That shit's not quaint.
From my experience, "quaint" is a word that rich people like to use when they're secretly trying to call you poor and tell you that they think you live in a shack. I've never heard these people use the word "quaint" to describe things that are actually "quaint." Maybe they don't know what it means. Maybe they think I don't know what it means.
Snooty ass bitch.
Random Gay was freely and obviously ogling Brittany, which was both not okay and really, really weird. Brittany shifted away from his gaze uncomfortably.
EXCUSE ME, BUT NO. That's not gonna sell your straight act, honey, and it's not gonna fly in this apartment.
"Who the hell are you?" I asked rudely.
"I'm Bryan," he said, introducing himself. "Bryan Ryan."
He was blond and clearly as bougie as Quinn tried to be. Even his face annoyed me. He kinda looked like a ferret.
"Great," I said. "What are you doing in my house?"
"Yeah, what are you doing here, Bryan?" Brittany asked. "I thought you rode with Shelby."
"She had an emergency in the middle of dinner and had to leave," he said, adjusting the knot on his neck sweater. "I was stranded. Quinn offered to give me a ride."
He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at Quinn.
"We need to take him home now," Quinn hissed, stepping away from Bryan.
"I'm all ready to go," Brittany said, holding up her purse.
"Can you text me when you get home?" I whispered so that Quinn wouldn't hear. "Just so I know you got in okay?"
"Sure," she whispered back. "We just have to take Shelby's boyfriend home. He's such a creeper."
Shelby's boyfriend?
I eyeballed him, taking in his stance and his yuppie outfit. It was him alright. He looked different with indoor lighting and without his face rearranged.
I thought I told you to stay out of Lima Heights, dummy.
Bryan winked creepily at me and I glared at him.
I'm gay, too, moron. You're trying way too hard.
I don't know how Shelby couldn't tell that Bryan was gay. Maybe I just had really great gaydar.
…except for the fact that a few months ago, I would've sworn on Martha Stewart's grave that Brittany was straight, so I guess gaydar isn't a reliable science.
"Britt, come on," Quinn said, clearly uncomfortable with all the girl-on-girl whispering going on.
"Okay, let's go."
I walked them to the door, saying pleasant goodbyes and all that jazz. In another life, in an alternate universe, on another planet, I would've kissed Brittany in front of everyone, but she wasn't ready for that. Even if she was, who knew if she would ever kiss me again now that she saw my secret ability up close and personal?
I sighed as I let the door close, listening to their voices fade as they walked down the hall.
"You know what I could really go for right now?" Not-So-Random Gay asked chipperly. "Dessert.
I caught the door before it closed and left it open a crack.
"Dessert?" Quinn asked. "How do you have room for dessert? You ate your food and Shelby's food!"
I knew what that asshole was trying to do. He was trying to make the trip home last longer so he could perve on Brittany (no sane person would perve on Quinn in her pilgrim clothes with Brittany sitting right there).
"I just have a craving for a Mega Freezie Chug," he said. "They're to die for! You just have to try one!"
Brittany sighed. "Honestly Bryan, I really just want to go home."
A Mega Freezie Chug? They only sell those at…
"Zippy Mart has them, it's right up the street," he said. "Just one quick stop and we'll be on our way."
I might not believe in gaydar, but I do believe in other things. Instincts, hunches, intuition, whatever you want to call it. I trust those more than I trust most people.
Add in my lifetime as a devout and practicing skeptic and you can see why my Spidey senses were tingling.
Who gets beat up coming out of a store at night and wants to go back into that exact same situation? Just to get a damn Freezie Chug? It's a watered down Slushie!
"Pretty please?" he begged. "I swear we'll be in and out."
For the first and probably last time in my life, I silently wished for Quinn to hold out, to bitch harder, to not give in.
The elevator dinged.
"Fine," Quinn huffed, "but this stupid Icy Chug better be worth it."
It wasn't.
Hunches are a funny thing.
You need to go. You need to move now.
They're funny because sometimes you can't really explain to people what you're feeling or why.
Change first. You need to be incognito.
Maybe you can't explain it because if you tried, it would just be something vague and unhelpful like "I don't know, it's just a hunch."
Take those, leave that. Hurry up, you're wasting time.
Maybe you can't explain it because it doesn't make any sense.
I pulled Puck's black hoody on and quickly slipped into his sweatpants.
"SANTANA!" Mercedes shouted from the living room.
"Yeah?" I yelled back, clipping David's sunglasses to my collar. I hadn't used them since I pulled them out of the toilet tank with the iPhone, but I needed to be sneaky tonight. Sunglasses at night are the sneakiest. I read it in a book.
"What happened to the couch?"
"It was like that when I got here!" I shoved my feet into black sneakers and pulled my hair back into a ponytail.
I could hear Mercedes saying something to Sam, but I didn't have time to deal with furniture drama. Something bad was about to happen. I could feel it.
I walked quickly into the living room, not even looking in their direction.
"Santana, how did- hey, where are you going?"
I stopped short, deciding whether to explain my hunch or just leave.
"Out."
"Out where? It's almost 1AM!"
"I have to… get a Freezie Chug."
"Like I said, it's almost 1AM!" I could hear Mercedes walking up behind me. "You really need to get a Freezie Chug right now?"
I couldn't think of anything to say. She wasn't going to drop it.
Damn, should've gone down the fire escape.
"Yes," I said, opening the door and stepping into the hallway. I closed the door behind me, briefly catching a glimpse of Mercedes's worried face and Sam's pissed face.
No time. Something bad. Something bad is happening.
I skipped the elevators, busting out super speed on the stairs again. As soon as I hit the front step of the building, I pulled my hood up, put my sunglasses on, and charged up.
As I speed-jogged the two blocks between my apartment building and Zippy Mart, I tried to plan.
I just want to follow them. I just want to make sure they get out of Lima Heights. Maybe I'll follow them to Lima Heights Adjacent, but once they get downtown, I'll feel better. It's just a hunch. It's probably stupid. Bryan Ryan is stupid for wanting to come back here. Everything's gonna be-
I stopped in front of Zippy Mart. The entire store front was made of large glass windows with thick metal bars on them. You could see the whole store from the sidewalk.
They weren't in there.
There's no possible way they could've gotten in and out so fast. Maybe Quinn said no to him.
I hurried down the street, but somehow I already knew what I would see. Quinn's (debitched) white Prius was parked far away from the street lights in the exact same spot as Shelby's car had been last time.
This time, there was no internal debate. There was no debate because there was no decision to be made.
It was time to act.
They were smarter this time. They had a lookout.
Joey, my mouthy moron friend, was back again. He was wearing a black ski mask over his face, but I could tell it was him because both of his hands were heavily bandaged.
It was a good idea to post someone near the edge of the alley because last time, I snuck up on them. The only problem was that it was pitch black. There were no working streetlights nearby and the clouds were covering up the moon. I was standing three inches from this guy's face and he could not see me.
The lookout couldn't look out.
I slowly waved my hand in front of him. His head darted left and right, searching the blackness for whatever he sensed was there, but couldn't see. That's the problem with doing all of your dirty business in dark alleys. No one can see you, but you can't see them either.
I had been afraid to walk into the alley charged up because I didn't want my "flashlight" eyes to ruin the element of surprise, but luckily, my aviators seemed to be special. They were blocking all of the light coming from my eyes.
That's what David meant? Why didn't he just say, "they're for blocking your creepy, glowing eyes from other people"? I would've started wearing them a long time ago if I knew that.
I peered down the alleyway, unable to see much, but definitely able to hear Bryan Ryan getting his ass kicked for the second time. I wanted to get rid of Joey before I did anything else. The last thing I needed was him sneaking up behind me later.
How do I take him out soundlessly without killing him or making a bunch of noise?
I did the first thing that popped into my head. I head-butted him as hard as I could.
He barely made a noise as he stumbled backwards. I grabbed him by his shirt collar as he fell and quietly sat him up behind a dumpster.
One down, and hopefully only three to go.
As I got closer, I could make out shapes in the darkness. Quinn and Brittany were on their knees, facing the other end of the alley with their hands behind their heads.
Bryan Ryan was being pushed around by three guys. I couldn't see them very well, but I could tell that the guys were a lot bigger than the jokers from last time. There was a stocky one, a round one, and a tall one. They all weighed at least two to three times as much as I did.
I was charged up to seven and I was excited to see what kind of damage I could do to these guys. I wanted to hurt anyone that was hurting Brittany.
"We'll give you money, the car, whatever! Just stop!" Quinn yelled. She somehow managed to sound like a condescending bitch, even when she wasn't trying.
"Please just let us go!" Brittany pleaded. My heart broke in half at the sound of her voice. She had to be terrified.
They just laughed at her.
"Maybe we don't want your money," the round one said. He pushed Bryan Ryan from behind. Bryan fell onto the ground and rolled.
The stocky guy picked Bryan up by his collar and hauled him over to Brittany and Quinn.
"Yeah," he chimed in, "maybe we want something else."
Who the fuck is that guy? I know that voice!
He forced Bryan Ryan down on his knees next to the girls. Then he walked over and gave Brittany a hard slap on the ass.
"You offering that up, too?"
Brittany started sobbing and I lost my mind.
That's enough.
They were too busy laughing to see me raise my sunglasses and aim my eyes at the back of one guy's kneecap.
How about you get on your knees, too?
Pow!
The tall guy screamed and staggered to the side.
"Oh god! I'm hit!"
I decided to shoot him in the other leg for good measure. He fell to his knees, screaming in agony as skin and important leg muscles were probably being melted into a thick, chunky liquid.
Now that my sunglasses were off, it was as bright as day. The three linebacker-muggers were wearing black ski masks and gloves.
"Wh-what's going on?" Bryan Ryan screamed at the top of his lungs. "What's happening?"
I was so distracted by Bryan Ryan's sudden outburst that I didn't notice the huge ass linebacker charging at me. Round Guy slammed into me from behind and we went flying into a pile of garbage. He was the big spoon.
As I jumped up, he pulled my hood. The top slid back, revealing my forehead and hairline before I could grab it and pull it back up. Stocky made a weird gasping noise.
Shit shit shit, he saw my face!
"Dude, you're not gonna believe it!" he cried out. "We got us a super hombre!"
…I guess he only saw my skin and not my face. Asshole.
When I heard him speak again, I was 100% sure that I knew this guy, but I didn't have time to dwell on that because he pulled out a gun and pushed me up against the wall.
"You wanna rumble, Pedro?" he growled, pressing the gun to my temple. He bared his teeth like a wild animal and his projectile spit sprayed all over my face.
One false move and he would blow my brains out. Fortunately for me, I could move a hundred times before he moved once. I slipped out from under him at super speed and got behind him, judo chopping his arm. The gun skittered across the alley floor. I gripped the back of his neck and quickly slammed his head into the wall.
Round, who was still lying in the trash, sprang into action. He yanked on my leg to pull me down. I threw my arms around Stocky's neck for support and swung my other leg out, kicking Round right in the chin.
He went out like a light.
Stocky started to pry my arms off of his neck. I tightened my hold like a boa constrictor, hoping to just choke the guy unconscious so we could get the fuck out of there. I wasn't trying to kill these guys. I just wanted to incapacitate them so we could scurry off into the night.
A shuffling sound behind me caused me to turn my head. It was Tall, the one I blasted in the knees. He crawled across the asphalt, scooping the loose gun up off the ground.
"I've seriously had enough of this shit," he said, raising the gun. He swung it around, pointing it at the back of Brittany's head. By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late.
He turned his gun slightly to the left and shot Bryan Ryan in the back of the head.
I almost bit my tongue in half trying not to scream. Brittany and Quinn screamed bloody murder, which was fitting because that's what they'd just witnessed.
A split second later, Tall was turning in my direction and aiming the gun at me. Using my upper body strength, I swung Stocky so that his whole body moved in between me and the gun. When the shot rang out, he fell to his knees. I crouched behind him, using him as a shield.
"You shot me, you dick!" Stocky wailed. He let out a painful, shuddering gasp.
"You're blocking my shot, idiot!"
I jumped up from my crouch and kicked Stocky in the back of the head, knocking him unconscious.
He should thank me. I wish someone would've knocked me out when I got shot.
"Shit!" Tall yelled, lifting his gun again.
I conjured up a basketball-sized energy ball in my free hand. When he started shooting, I stuck it out in front of me, blocking bullets and causing them to fly in random directions at dangerous angles.
When I heard the telltale click of an empty gun, we both froze.
"Uh-oh."
I didn't run the rest of the way. He couldn't run away and I was exhausted. He begged and pleaded for me not to kill him, but I wasn't even listening. As soon as I reached him, I snatched the empty gun from his hand and brought it down hard on his head, thereby vanquishing the last of my foes.
My shoulders drooped and I let out a long sigh.
This took way more effort than last time.
Brittany and Quinn were still facing the other way, leaning against each other and sniffling. They didn't know who had won the fight going on behind them. They didn't know if the winner of the fight was another asshole with bad intentions.
But it was me.
I saved Quinn.
I saved Brittany.
Brittany was going to see that I wasn't just some couch-snapping, super strong freak. I was going to be the one that saved her. I was going to be her personal superhero.
I stepped forward to call out to her. Brittany's name was on the tip of my tongue.
The noise behind me made me hesitate and that split second of hesitation changed my life. It changed a lot of people's lives, actually.
If I had been paying attention, I would have seen him standing in the shadows. I walked right past him to get from one end of the alley to the other. In broad daylight, it would've been impossible for him to lurk like that, but in the pitch black darkness, he could stand in that alcove all night and never be noticed.
If the blood hadn't been pounding in my ears, I may have heard the soft hiss of pneumatic pistons and the faint click of meshing gears before he came up behind me. When the sound finally registered in my brain, I spun around.
Just in time for a metal hand to close tightly around my neck.
I couldn't speak. More importantly, I couldn't breathe. I kicked my legs wildly and tried to pry the hand from my throat, but even I could tell that it wasn't made from normal metal. My super strength was doing nothing and I was afraid to use beams on it. I couldn't risk shooting myself in the neck.
I could only struggle in vain as the robotic arm slowly lifted me off the ground until we were eye-to-eye. A small light flickered on inside his suit, lighting up his face.
I'd seen him in the newspaper and on TV, but this was my first time ever seeing him in person. The robotic suit that Himanshu designed usually looked shiny and new in the florescent lighting of a press conference room. Here in the dark, the suit was uninteresting.
The interesting part was the man inside the suit.
He looked young, about my age. His hair was neatly combed and the collar of his clean, white shirt had flipped up on one side. He was even wearing a tie in there. A tiny oscillating fan blew under his chin, causing his stiff, gelled hair to dance in the artificial breeze. My sunglasses were still off, so he kept blinking and shaking his head because of the brightness.
He looks like a big, sleepy baby.
"Hi," he whispered quietly, too quietly for the crying girls at the end of the alley to hear. "I'm Mr. Finntastic."
He looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to introduce myself. I pounded against his metal hand with my fist, indicating that I wasn't going to answer because he was choking me to death.
"Oh right, sorry." He chuckled at his own stupidity. "The collar will come off in five minutes, I think. So try to stay alive until then, okay?"
He stared at me again like a dope, waiting for me answer. I slapped his hand again.
"Right, right."
He looked behind me, staring at the disaster in the alley.
"Looks like you did a number on these guys," he said, looking impressed. "Nice work."
I knew the exact second his eyes locked on Brittany and Quinn. He seemed to wake up a little, plastering a wholesome, boy-next-door, shit-eating grin on his face. It was the same one he used on TV.
"I'll take over from here."
The metal collar-fist started to whir and click as it rotated me so that I was facing away from him.
Brittany and Quinn were still huddled together, crying. It had only been about 60 seconds since I pistol whipped Stocky. They didn't even know I was there.
Mr. Finntastic turned his body so that he was facing east and lifted his arm until it pointed almost straight up at the sky.
Oh shit. Oh shit. No, no, no!
"Have a nice trip," he whispered. "It was really nice to meet you."
Then he blasted me off into space.
I've flown with David. I've flown with Puck. I've flown with Jet Blue, American, United, and Continental.
This was not flying. This was being violently catapulted across Ohio.
The cold night air whipped past me as I flailed uselessly in the sky. The collar was still clamped tight around my neck, but in my mind I was screaming for my life. I was shooting East at breakneck speeds, just barely clearing buildings as I tried hopelessly to find some way to stop my body from moving. To top it all off, I was going to black out because I couldn't breathe.
Charge up more and break this thing! You're not going to last five minutes!
I never voluntarily charged up above seven. It usually seemed to be enough for what I needed and it took a lot of effort to even be able to handle that much.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
…8 …9.
My limbs shook violently, but there was nothing I could do to stop the tremors. I tugged at the collar again. It protested loudly as metal pieces screeched against each other, but loosened up enough so that my airflow wasn't completely cut off.
With my precious oxygen partially restored, I tended to my other problem. I had reached the peak of my trajectory over Lima Heights Adjacent and I was going to hit the ground somewhere in the downtown area.
I had no idea how the hell I was going to land.
Get your shit together, Lopez. It's go time.
I was coming down over one of the main roads, not too far from where I saved Alexander from his playdate with a Mack truck. It was a three lane, one-way street, but the buildings were much taller in this area. Mr. Finntastic had great aim. I was gonna come down in the middle of an intersection. There weren't many cars on the road because it was late, so at least I had that going for me.
Ok, charge up your legs for strength so they don't break when you land. Bend your knees. Tuck and roll. Or is it stop, drop, and roll? Tootsie roll? Egg roll? Won ton soup?
The ground was approaching fast. I was ready to do what I needed to do.
Shit, here it comes!
As I charged up my legs, something odd happened.
Seconds before I was going land, the soles of my feet began to tingle. I focused all the remaining energy in my body down through my legs in one big push, attempting to use my super strength to land without breaking all of my bones.
As soon as my feet touched the ground, all of that energy discharged itself with the force of a small bomb. Huge white beams of light blasted out of my feet, launching me back into the air like a rocket.
Residents of the downtown area later reported hearing "WHAT THE FUUUUUUUU-" being screamed in the distance around that time. That was me.
The force of these newly discovered foot beams propelled me back into the sky. My legs whipped around like limp noodles, causing me to careen dangerously close to skyscrapers.
Residents of the downtown area also reported hearing "HOLY SHIT I'M GONNA DIE," but there's no real proof that I ever said that.
Get your legs under control or you're gonna crash!
I tightened my muscles, slowly powering down so that the tremors in my legs would stop.
9… 8… 7… 6…
As the beams got less intense, my leg control came back. And slowly but surely, I figured out what I was doing. I found that if I angled my feet, I could actually steer myself around the buildings and change my altitude instead of flailing like a muppet. If I stood straight up, I could hover.
This was flying.
Thirty minutes later, I had slowly and carefully steered myself back to Lima Heights. As I flew high over the infamous dark alley, I saw the flashing lights of squad cars. There were about ten of them blocking the street.
Brittany.
It suddenly occurred to me that I didn't know whether Brittany and Quinn were okay or not.
I hovered above the roof of my apartment building, gently bringing myself down onto the graveled roof. As quickly as I could, I rushed down the fire escape and crawled into the apartment through my bedroom window. I ditched the hoody, the sunglasses, and would've taken off my shoes, but apparently, sneakers don't really hold up very well when you decide to blast lasers out of your feet. The only thing left of them was the shredded material hanging around my ankles.
I changed back into what I was wearing earlier, raced downstairs, and sprinted down the street. Everyone and their mother was standing outside because this was highly unusual. Usually only one cop car showed up when someone was killed, so by Lima Heights Logic, ten people must have been dead somewhere.
Everything past Zippy Mart was roped off with caution tape. I looked around for people I knew, but it was hard to see through the crowd. The Rosenbaums were talking with Uncle Zippy, saying old people things like "what is the world coming to" and "kids these days are so this and that" and "back in my day we never."
I pushed my way through, finally making it to the front. Mercedes and Sam stood on the crowd side of the caution tape, while Brittany stood on the crime scene side, wiping her eyes and taking deep shuddering breaths.
"Santana?" she said, sounding so pitiful and broken that it made my heart sink in my chest. I stepped towards her and she threw her arms me, burying her face into my neck.
"Are you okay?" I asked, trying my best to sound confused. "What happened, B?"
She sobbed incoherently into my neck, and that was okay because I had more than enough details stored in my brain. I rubbed her back and cooed softly in her ear that everything was gonna be just "fine."
I'm really starting to hate that word.
I could feel Mercedes's eyes boring into the side of my head.
"Where did you go?" she hissed. "We've been looking all over for you!"
"I went to get a snack," I said nonchalantly. "Forgot my phone."
"I thought you were just going to Zippy Mart! What took you so long?"
"It's nice out," I said, avoiding her eyes. "I thought I'd take a walk."
"You thought-" She stopped talking and just shook her head.
I grew up in Lima Heights. You don't "take a walk" at night. That's how you end up like Bryan Ryan.
"Take care of Brittany now," she said in a low voice so that Brittany couldn't hear. "I'm going to take care of you later."
Uh-oh. You're in trouble.
I gulped. I did not want to deal with Angry Mercedes, but it appeared I didn't have any choice in the matter.
I was more focused on Brittany right now. She'd been manhandled by those jerks in the alley. She'd watched Bryan Ryan die. And who knows what happened before I got there?
I gave Brittany a tight squeeze and discretely kissed her on the cheek. "You're gonna be okay, B. They're gonna lock those assholes up and throw away the key, alright?"
She pulled back from my embrace and gave me a watery grin.
"I know," she said, her voice hoarse from crying. "I'm so glad Mr. Finntastic showed up and saved us. I don't even want to think about what would've happened if he didn't."
He… he… he…
I couldn't even process her statement in my head.
"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, just knowing that I'd heard wrong.
She let go of me and pointed at Mr. Finntastic, who had a gassy baby grin on his face. He was standing by a squad car, talking to Quinn and Head Pig Tanaka. Quinn hung on Finntastic's robot arm, looking up at him like the sun shone out of his ass. They were all smiling at each other. Anyone passing by would think that they were old friends catching up.
"Mr. Finntastic," Brittany said.
"Mr. Finntastic," I repeated numbly.
She leaned in close and with all the reverent wonder that people reserved for God and Steve Jobs, she whispered, "San, he saved us."
Something deep inside me broke then.
I don't know what it was. It wasn't something important like my soul or my mind. Maybe it was a little piece of my heart. I don't know. It just broke and I physically felt it happen.
I did it. It was me. He didn't do anything. He didn't even help.
"San?" Brittany frowned, concern showing on her face. "What's wrong?"
Forcing a smile onto my face was somehow harder than forcing bullets out of my chest, but I did it. I wrapped my arms around her again.
"Nothing, I'm just glad you're okay," I whispered because I couldn't say what I wanted to say.
I saved you, not him.
I want you to look at me like that, not the way you looked at me after I broke the couch.
I want to be good enough for you.
As I held Brittany and tried not to cry, I looked over her shoulder at Finntastic. He was still chatting with Quinn, smiling and nodding at whatever she was saying. Some random cop came up and handed him a bottle of water. He had his helmet off.
He wasn't even fucking sweating.
I don't think I've ever hated anyone more than I hated him in that moment. Not Quinn, not Kurt, not my stepdad. I hated him and I wanted to tell anyone who would listen that he was a fraud. But exposing Finntastic would mean exposing myself. So I was left there to seethe and rage on the inside while he took credit for my hard work.
Everyone thought he was great because of something I did, but I was still a West Lima Loser.
No.
He was the loser. I was the one that was better than him.
And I was gonna prove it.
I don't like to talk too much about the early days. When I get interviewed, I usually give some vague, starry-eyed, American Dream answer because that's the kind of stuff that people really want to hear. The President told me that. Called me up and said my interviews were "too depressing."
It's because people don't want to hear the truth. I don't blame them. The truth sucks sometimes. It hurts and it makes people feel bad. But there's value to knowing and seeking it, even if it gives you a headache or scares you or tells you the sky is red.
So when they ask me, "why did you become a superhero?" I tell them the same things I told Ben that night. That I wanted to do good things. That I wanted to help people with my abilities. Heal the world, make it a better place, etc.
What I don't tell them is the simple truth:
It started off as a pissing contest.
A/N: I'm not sure if I should put warnings up every time someone is going to die. I'd rather not because it spoils it, but I don't want people to… I don't know, get surprised and vomit? (What's wrong with me, really?) If you feel strongly about this either way, PM/tumblr me.
The scene in the alley with Finntastic:
a) creeped the fuck out of me when I was writing it. I was writing in the dark and I looked over my shoulder several times, waiting for him to pop-up and strangle me.
b) was the first idea I ever had for this fic. Fucking Super Fun Fact: this fic was originally going to be a remake of Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along-Blog, with Santana as Dr. Horrible (but a superhero version), Brittany as Penny, and Finntastic as Captain Hammer. Unfortunately, that would involve Brittany/Finn, which I had no interest in writing and if you know how DHSAB ends… yeah, didn't want to write that, either. So the only thing that remains the same is the fact that Brittany thinks Finn saved her, but it was really Santana.
Until next time!
-LateInLifeTiburón