She's baaacckk! Okay, so when we last left off, Heather stormed out of the apartment under odd circumstances. I said last chapter that I really didn't like it, but this one… I don't know, I've been trying to get it right for the last two weeks or so but nothing's really working. The ending sucks, that I'll say right now, but it's a crucial point in the story, so… well, what can you do, right? At any rate, let's get this over with. This is, chapter twelve!
The Legacy of a Hero
Chapter Twelve
Okay, so, maybe I overreacted, Heather thought, walking down the sidewalk towards the park she usually went to with Rhi and Mike. She'd stuffed her hands deep into her pockets, and the scowl on her face was deep enough that it was beginning to hurt.
Could anyone really blame me? I know it's probably stupid, just… Dad used to call me that. Back when he cared. Ever since, other people have occasionally lobbed the name at me – with a lot less affection and whole lot more sneering. Them calling me 'Princess'… they might as well be calling me a failure, an idiot, a stupid little girl who can't do anything for herself. I'm so much better than that! Even without these powers, I've always been better than that opinion… or at least I'd like to think so. Maybe I'm not though. Maybe Spiderman, Dad, whichever, is right and I'm just a kid playing dress up. I couldn't even avoid the detection of the Bugle, and I almost got found out because of that stupid fight with Josh at school. What business do I have trying to save people, if I can't even save myself?
Heather reached the park and took a seat under the tree, laying her arms across her bent knees. She stared up at the night sky, trying to perceive the stars through the golden haze of city lights and sighed. Harry didn't mean anything by it, I know he didn't. Doesn't mean it stings any less.
"Heather? What are you doing here?" a voice asked.
Heather looked up and found Mike standing a few feet away. Behind him, Rhianna waved from inside the idling Oldsmobile.
"I, uh… nothing. Just came here to think," Heather replied slowly.
Mike gave her a searching look, and she hoped her face looked innocent enough. After a long moment, he glanced back at the car then to her again, "We're heading to the club. You wanna come?"
Heather's eyes slid to the dark, deserted street in the direction she'd walked from the apartment building. She sat quietly thinking, before turning back towards her friend and standing. "Yeah."
Mike nodded. "Cool. Come on."
Heather shoved her hands back into her jacket pockets as she followed him to the Oldsmobile. I don't know what I was thinking. I just got so infatuated with the idea I could be some kind of hero, that I forgot something very important. I'll always just be another helpless princess. And princesses do love to party right? I guess it's time I put on the tiara.
SMxBW
When they got to the club, Rhi did her 'Rhi-zzle' act with the bouncer and got them inside in no time flat. Once they were in, she also pulled her strings to get an apple-tini for her and a beer for Mike.
"What do you want, Heather?" Rhi called, glancing her way.
"I don't care, just something strong," Heather glared in general at the pulsing lights over the dance floor. She'd taken off her jacket and left her bag in the car, leaving her in the same scoop neck, three-quarter sleeved ruby blouse with a hood she'd worn to school. With her dark expression, tightly crossed arms and her heavy though now slightly smudged make-up, she fit right in with the rest of the patrons.
Rhi lifted a manicured eyebrow but nodded, turning back to the bartender. "Irish Car Bomb for the redhead. And a bourbon and ginger ale as well – three fingers," she told him, slipping the guy several more bills than necessary.
The bartender smiled. "You got it. Tell your sister I say hi?"
Rhi winked. "Of course."
Taking a seat at the bar, Mike leaned close to his girlfriend's ear. "Which sister did he mean?"
Rhi shrugged. "Who knows, who cares? All that matters is my dear big sisters' reputations precede me, and I will never have to bother with fake ID's." She clinked her glass against his bottle and took a long sip.
A few moments later, the three glasses containing Heather's drinks were dropped onto the bar in front of her with simultaneous clinks. She closed her eyes for a moment and let out a sigh. Just make it all go away – I want to forget this whole thing by tomorrow. She quickly grabbed the shot and dropped it into the first glass to make the Irish Car Bomb. Without waiting a second, she lifted the drink and chugged it down before it started curdling. The drink gone, she slammed the glass down onto the counter. One hand gripped the edge of the bar tight as the alcohol burned down her throat and hit her stomach.
"You okay, Heather?" Rhi shouted over the techno beat pounding in their ears.
Heather nodded and swallowed thickly. "Yeah," she rasped, her words inaudible in all the tumult. Rhi seemed to understand though and let it go, turning back to Mike.
Breathing heavily, Heather let the drink settle a bit before sipping the ginger ale and bourbon. She was glad Rhi hadn't ordered a beer or wine-cooler for her. She'd learned from experience that liquor with beer or wine was a tricky combination. Trying to find the right balance was like walking on the edge of a knife.
After nursing her second drink for a while, Heather's attention strayed from the pattern in the granite bar to glossing over the dance floor dully. The lights pulsed different colors, strobe lights occasionally adding to the hypnotic kaleidoscope affect. People danced mindlessly on the floor – pushing, bumping, grinding, and jumping.
Hard to believe it's over. Feels like it barely began. Who was I kidding though? Heather leaned back on her stool against the bar, sipping from her drink as the DJ transitioned to "Titanium". I'm no hero. Having a father who's a superhero doesn't mean jack. I'm just a kid. This is my life; doing homework, trying on boyfriends like their pairs of jeans, hanging out with Mike and Rhi, clubbing... It always has been. I was an idiot to think otherwise.
"Hey, we're going out on the floor. You coming?" Rhi shouted, pushing her empty glass away.
Heather was going to say no, but then she looked out again at the floor. She wasn't much of a dancer. For whatever reason though, the mosh pit of pounding bodies looked really appealing. She blamed it on the alcohol. "Yeah. I'm coming," she called back, finishing her drink in two large gulps.
Rhianna grinned. "Cool!" She grabbed her friend's hand as well as her boyfriend's and dragged them through the crowd to the dance floor. Once in the middle, she immediately dropped Heather's hand and pulled Mike close.
Heather stood awkwardly for a moment, feeling like a buoy in the middle of a hurricane. The song changed again. Now "Scream and Shout" blasted from the speakers. She closed her eyes and let the music wash over her, eventually finding the rhythm and letting her body follow it.
She couldn't be sure how much time passed. The DJ switched tracks a couple of times, but other than that, she really couldn't tell how long she'd been swaying with the rest of the crowd. It was selfish, she knew, to be staying here and ignoring the rest of the world. Childish, to be pretending that her problems were gone and nothing else mattered but this moment in time. Honestly, she didn't care. She didn't think about it, or anything else. She just moved.
The repose was shattered when a large, sweaty hand grabbed her arm. Hot breath crawled across her neck as a voice called into her ear, "Hey baby, you wanna dance?"
Heather's eyes shot open, then narrowed dangerously. The guy clutching her arm was somewhere in his mid-twenties, with greasy black hair, dark eyes that were almost black, and heavily tattooed, muscled arms.
"Not in a million years," Heather snapped, yanking her arm out of his grasp easily.
The guy didn't look like a pushover by any means, so the fact that a relatively small teenage girl was able to escape him so quickly came as a surprise. "Hey," he called as Heather tried to push her way out of the crowd. "Where you goin'? We haven't gotten to know each other yet!"
Heather searched the club desperately. Where were Mike and Rhianna? How had they gotten separated? She couldn't have been in her trance for that long, right? Had they left her? It seemed unlikely, but still, no matter which way she turned she couldn't see them.
"Oh baby girl…" a familiar voice crooned.
Heather turned to find that the creep from before had followed her all the way to where the private booths and back door was. Her fists shook as she pushed back her rising anger and panic. "I told you to get lost!" she snapped.
"Now why would I do that?" the guy sneered, eyeing her form hungrily. "When we're just getting to know each other. I'm Stan, by the way. And you are?"
"Back off, or I'll call security," Heather growled, moving slowly towards the exit behind her.
"That's an awful long name for such a pretty girl. How about I guess it?" Stan grinned, "Ashley? No? Veronica? Nah. Stacy?"
Despite the circumstances, Heather couldn't help the errant thought that crossed her mind, Stacy? Seriously, what is this? The nineties? She kept backing up, but Stan only continued his pursuit. I obviously can't lose him in the club… but maybe I can ditch him in the alley. It's worth a shot at least.
"How about…" Heather suggested sarcastically, "See ya, loser!" She turned and sprinted for the exit, managing to keep ahead of Stan well enough by grabbing a table and chair, and overturning it in front of him.
Once outside, she turned and darted down the dark, wet alleyway towards the street. Behind her, she could hear Stan's heavy breathing and cursing getting louder. He may have been a tool, but he was a fast tool. Even though she loathed the idea after her resolution earlier tonight, she knew her best chance was to use her powers.
At the corner, she turned left and ran up the deserted street, splashing through murky puddles and dodging dumpsters and trash cans, while still trying to maintain a normal human top speed. After all, she may want to get away from this jerk, but not at the price of being discovered as a… well, whatever she was.
The thought had actually been nagging at her for a while – was she a Meta? Mutate? Mutant? Just another freak? Presently though, she was more concerned about staying alive and hanging onto her v-card. The debate could wait until she was safely away from the scumbag.
Turning another corner and out of sight of her pursuer, she leapt onto the wall of a building and climbed quickly to the roof. At the top, she flipped over the parapet then crouched down and collapsed against it, as much hiding as trying to calm her nerves. She hadn't actually exerted enough energy to really be winded – it was mostly fear and adrenaline that had left her breathless.
She waited anxiously and soon heard Stan's footsteps below her, searching for her while cussing loudly and repeatedly. Eventually, his footsteps stopped and she could somehow tell that he was standing directly below her in the alley. Though there was no way he could hear her from four or five floors up, she nevertheless held her breath and waited.
A couple of minutes passed in silence.
Heather knew this because she kept checking the time on her cell phone, waiting for Stan to get bored and leave already. She couldn't leave ahead of him and risk him seeing her jump across rooftops. He didn't seem like the smartest bulb in the pack, yet even an idiot would be able to tell his friends about the weirdo girl with superpowers, and then they would tell their idiot friends who would probably tell someone else.
She did not need that kind of scrutiny when she had just decided to give up this ridiculous hero idea.
After the fortieth time of checking her phone, and being annoyed that she still didn't have signal, that tingling feeling at the base of her skull cranked up again. Curious despite herself, she peered over the parapet into the alley below. At the corner of the alley and a side road, a small sedan pulled up under the flickering light of a street lamp and the passenger window rolled down.
"Stan! That you?" someone asked.
Stan wandered over to the car, still looking steamed. "Yeah, it's me. Whaddya want?"
"Where's the chick? The one you picked out in the club?" a second person, this one behind the wheel, questioned. Heather craned her neck and could see there were actually three people in the car, and judging by the shape of their shadows they were all male.
"Got away," Stan grumbled. "Fast little bitch. Too bad, she looked like she might give me a bit of fight," he grinned suddenly. "You know I like it better when it's more of a challenge."
The three men guffawed loudly and Heather shivered.
"How about you three? Any luck?" Stan leaned against the passenger door.
"Not for me. Couldn't get a bite from any dame," the man in the back seat said.
The driver spoke up, "Same. But Ricky here scored big! The girl's in the trunk now and she is a knock out – figuratively and literally." He clapped the man beside him on the shoulder. "We'll get some fun out of tonight yet. You in?"
Stan smirked nastily. "Oh I'm in. Move over, Pete! And step on it, Dave!" he opened the back door and climbed in. The car sped off into the darkening night.
Heather swallowed thickly, her face deathly white. Oh my god, they're going to – she couldn't even finish the thought. I have to call the police! I have to tell them, tell them… tell them what? That she'd been chased out of a club where she wasn't supposed to be in the first place by a guy named Stan, had climbed to a rooftop to escape him and had overheard a bunch of men talking about a girl knocked out in the trunk of their car that they were most definitely going to rape?
She dropped her head in her hands. They'll never believe me. Not in a million years. Oh sweet Scarlet Witch, what do I do? I can't just go back to the club like nothing happened! That girl – what if it's Rhi in the trunk? Or someone else I know? Even if it's not, I can't stand around and do nothing.
Taking a deep breath, Heather stood up and pulled her emotions together as best as she could. She stepped back to the edge of the parapet and pushed off, running across the roof towards the next building. She hurdled and sprinted as hard as she could, ignoring human boundaries and letting the length of her limbs help rather than hinder her. She'd covered several blocks heading south when she spotted the sedan at a changing light. The car turned left, and so did she, leaping across the intervening space like she was jumping a small puddle.
The car drove at an easy pace, the driver obviously in no hurry, letting Heather pull back slightly and collect her thoughts. She didn't want to go into this situation blind, after all. Finally, the car parked in front of a dilapidated brown stone that had obviously been vacated for quite some time.
Heather watched from the shadows of the roof above them as the four men, Pete, Dave, Stan and Ricky, got out of the car. Stan and Pete went to unlock the front door while Ricky and Dave went to the trunk. They opened the rear and pulled a rolled up blanket with a suspiciously human form from the compartment. While the driver Dave slammed the lid down, Ricky slung the girl across his shoulder. The foursome then preceded into the building.
Heather backed away from the edge, gripping her head as the gravity of the situation descended upon her. "Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap…" she hissed, squeezing her eyes shut tight.
Get a grip, Parker! You don't have time to panic. That girl, whoever she is, needs your help. So quit being a crybaby and get in there! She took a couple of deep, cleansing breaths.
"Right. Okay, okay, I can do this. I can do this!" Slowly she released her hold and stood up, glancing around to try and find an entrance from the roof into the old building. A few feet behind her was a doorway. She ran over and tried the handle. Locked. Naturally, she thought, rolling her eyes before narrowing her gaze. Alright, let's test just how affective enhanced strength really is.
She grounded her footing, then lifted a leg and kicked viciously near the handle. The ancient wood crunched slightly, but held. Frowning, she gave it another harsh blow. The door dented in more, wood splinters fracturing off in several directions, yet the stubborn entrance stayed intact.
Heather backed up a few paces. No more playing nice. With a roundhouse kick and a furious grunt, the door gave way and popped off the hinges. Grabbing it, she pulled it free completely from the frame and tossed it behind her. Her way clear, she ran down the nearly pitch black staircase until she came to the top floor of the four story building. Here, the door was missing completely, though she couldn't begin to guess why. Stepping through, she squinted in the dark hallways for her targets. They didn't seem to be anywhere around, which meant they were probably holed up somewhere closer to the ground floor.
She held in a groan.
There was no time to climb all those stairs and search every floor! She began looking around again for an alternative route, taking tentative steps on the worn out wooden floor. As she searched the hallway, she passed by a broken dirty mirror propped against the wall. In the soft light filtering weakly through the grimy windows, her reflection blinked back, her naked face pale, grimy and coated in a sheen of sweat.
I can't let them see my face, she fingered her cheek and bit her lip, the mirror copying every move. As her hand moved down from her face, her thumb brushed the gathering of the shirt's hood at her shoulders. The mirror smirked at her as she grabbed the fabric and pulled it up over her head, obscuring her features in shadows. Perfect.
A blood curdling scream, followed by raucous laughter, broke the silence.
I don't have much time left – I may already be too late. Heather scanned the walls and floors, eyes finally falling on a grate in the corner of the floor leading to the air vents. Bingo.
She pried the grate off easily and threw it aside. It clattered noisily before finally coming to a stop against the opposite wall. By this point, she'd dropped into the ventilation system and began crawling towards what she hoped was a quick way down through the building.
I may not be a hero, but I'm going to do what's right, no matter what.
AN: So, do any of you read the N52 Teen Titan comics (or any N52 comics, period)? If so, am I the only one annoyed with how jumpy the stories feel? I'm only on issue 9, but I'm about ready to call it quits and focus my attention on the other comics I read: Supurbia (the pencils, plus Grace Randolph's writing are wickedly addicting), Batman & Robin (Damian and Dick have one of the coolest bromances ever!), Nightwing(hey, it's Dick, of course I love it :D), and Batman Beyond (Terry may not be Dick, but I think he's a close second lol). Yeah, yeah, I read a LOT of B's comics *blush* can't help it, they're too good! I'm toying with the idea of reading Batman Inc. (even if they did kill my favorite little grumpy pants, Damian D:), and Red Hood and the Outlaws as well, but… oh good lord, Starfire! What kind of sick, fanboy sexy-fantasy outfit did they put you in?! What comics/superhero shows are you reading/watching right now? Any recommendations? Leave them in a comment, or PM me! B-)