All things considered, Lisa was having a pretty damn good day. The sun was shining, the streets were bustling, and a warm breeze was blowing. Oh, and she also had somehow managed to avoid irreversibly fucking up her only friendship, too. Yeah, maybe it was that, come to think of it.
As she strolled through downtown Brockton Bay, she felt like leaping out of sheer happiness. That would've cut a bit too much against the worldly, cynical image she'd crafted, though, and so she settled for a brief, celebratory chuckle instead.
The 36-year-old woman passing her on the sidewalk shot her an odd look.
Doesn't like people laughing in public. Doesn't like people laughing. Doesn't like laughing. Suffering from a recent trauma, personal. Just ended a relationship. Just ended a six-year relationship. Just ended a six-year relationship two days before the wedding, when she caught the groom…
Lisa shook her head, as though she might physically derail her train of thought, and snapped back to the here and now. If there was any day she didn't want to be bothered with people's drama, it was today. It wasn't like her power really gave her a say in the matter, of course, but she'd do her best to avoid getting dragged down the rabbit hole.
Lisa made her way across the heart of Downtown with a particular spring in her step. In the warm embrace of the midday sun, everything seemed a little brighter and a little cleaner. Even the streets themselves seemed to sparkle, albeit just a little. If Lisa hadn't been in such a sickeningly good mood, she might have slapped herself to shatter the nauseating optimism.
But in a sickeningly good mood she was, and so she settled for whistling an obnoxiously catchy pop tune as she strode along. Without her mask and coat, she blended seamlessly into the early afternoon pedestrian traffic. Well, mostly seamlessly. A sharp observer might wonder what a (presumable) Arcadia student was doing out of school amidst all the office workers taking a late lunch or making an early departure, but that was hardly worth worrying about.
Halfway down the next block, sun gleamed off of a pale, shaven scalp, forcing its way through Lisa's blithe thoughts. She frowned. A skinhead, so scrawny and gangly that he couldn't have been any older than her, was strolling down the block at a leisurely pace.
Did it really have to be now? Did she really have to get involved? Maybe he was just some stupid high schooler with exceptionally poor taste in haircuts.
Yeah, right. The residual guilt over nearly ruining things with Taylor must have been spilling over the mental dams she'd attempted to erect around it. Lisa Wilbourn getting involved with random street crime? A year ago, she never would have thought she'd see the day.
Lisa sighed, and let the mental walls around her power slip.
Dropped out of school. Dropped out of school because of gang involvement. New to the gang. New to the gang and hasn't been initiated yet. Hasn't been initiated yet; being initiated today. Being initiated by proving they're willing to beat the shit out of someone.
Well, that about figured.
Finding a target now. Targeting the woman half a block down. Planning on forcing her into the alley.
Lisa wanted to groan. Instinct told her to just walk away. You couldn't save everyone; you couldn't even save most people. Most of the time, all you could do was maybe get yourself added to the casualty list, and for what? For trying to hold back the tide with a bucket? Still, the nagging voice in the back of her head refused to shut up. After everything which had happened, she couldn't shake the guilt-ridden need to prove herself worthy.
The whole situation was ridiculous, and yet she found herself drifting across the street, her pace quickening, even as the skinhead set off in pursuit of his target. Was she really going to do this? She still wasn't entirely certain. Evidently, Taylor had been a very harmful influence on her. But what was she going to do about this, anyways? She wasn't in costume, which severely limited her options right off the bat. An Empire thug doubtless wouldn't find a skinny teenage girl particularly intimidating, no matter how sharp her smile.
Towards the end of the block, the Empire goon jerked his head towards the woman, motioning towards the alley. Scream, Lisa thought. Of course, she didn't. The guy might be a scumbag, but he could pick a target. She didn't need her power to tell her that the guy had probably slipped a knife into his hand. The woman froze for a moment, and then edged into the alley, spurred on by a sharp shove from the man. Lisa sighed again as she picked up her pace. Yes, apparently she really was going to do this. Next step, throwing herself in front of a speeding car to save a squirrel.
Lisa hurried across the street and down the block. As she went, she scooped up a baseball-sized chunk of concrete loosened in a recent cape fight, weighed it in her hand, and nodded. It would do. She peeked her head around the corner of the alley. The woman had backed away as far as possible, but now had her back up against the wall, quite literally. As the skinhead advanced on her, Lisa shouted "Hey, dickwad!", did her best windup, and hurled the chunk of concrete at the back of his shaven head. It struck home in his lower back with a clonk. Maybe a little work on her throwing arm wouldn't go amiss. As the goon whirled to face her, Lisa waved jauntily, and then took off at a run. She already knew he was going to tear after her.
Now came the exciting part. Not for the first time, Lisa rued her relative lack of cardio. It might be time to start joining Taylor on those morning runs, as abhorrent as the idea of exercising that early in the morning might seem. Adrenaline shot through her long-suffering muscles as she sprinted for the end of the block. She wove through a few passersby, none of whom read as likely to intervene, even if asked by a teenage girl pursued by a clearly thuggish man.
"Get back here, you little bitch!" yelled the goon from behind her. That was about the level of repartee she'd expected. Lisa took a moment to flip him off. The gesture threw off her stride somewhat, but you couldn't neglect the little things in life. With cars whizzing through the intersection in front of her, Lisa abruptly swerved to the right and tore down that side of the block. "Feel free to jump in any time!" she yelled to the few pedestrians in the vicinity, who had busied themselves scuttling out of her path. "It's not like my life's in danger or anything!"
Predictably, nobody jumped in. She didn't need her power to tell her why. Screwing with Brockton Bay's most prominent cape gang didn't pay a lot of dividends.
A cruel laugh came from behind her. "You're dead, bitch!" her pursuer howled with glee, exhibiting about the level of vocabulary Lisa had expected. Of course, a firm command of the English language was by no means a requisite to spreading her brains on the pavement. Her breaths had already started to come a little faster and a little harder, and the goon's footsteps didn't sound far behind.
Lisa stole a glance at her cheap digital wristwatch as she ran. Shame that it wasn't the high-end silver one she wore as part of her costume. She might have contrived a way to do some damage with the heft of that one. Making an attempt to dial the police on her phone would add some drag which she could ill afford. Even if it saved her from a beating rather than putting her through one, Lisa had very little appetite for exposing her civilian identity to any kind of police investigation.
Still chasing you. Still chasing you because he's selected you as the new target for his initiation. Planning on breaking most of your ribs…
Thanks for that one, Lisa thought. Very helpful. In the absolute worst case, at least, her pulped face in the papers tomorrow might serve as a salutary example for all the mouth-breathers buying into the Empire's "racial solidarity" nonsense. You could be Adolf Hitler in the flesh and they'd still happily kick your teeth in if you thumbed your nose at them.
Something swiped at her jacket from behind. Lisa quickly shrugged the jacket free. It looked great on her, but not "serious but stable condition" great. She had about 1.02 seconds to come up with a workable plan to avoid her no-expenses-paid trip to the ICU.
As the thug snarled and, presumably, reached for her again, Lisa abruptly broke her stride by hurling herself downwards in what she fervently hoped was a smooth motion. The skinhead exclaimed in surprise as Lisa slammed into his legs mid-stride. Pain flared in her kneecaps and palms as rough concrete scraped at her. She grunted with the impact as the goon tumbled over her and slammed into the cement, but managed to hold in her breath. Before he could rise, she scrabbled back to her feet, grabbed him by the head, and rang his undoubtedly thick skull against the unyielding iron of a nearby streetlamp. He mumbled something, half-dazed, and flopped an arm towards her. Lisa gave him another ring for good measure, and he dropped to the pavement, insensate.
She took a deep breath and winced. The collision had clearly left at least a couple of bruises, to say nothing of the throbbing from her now-bloodied palms and knees. "But you should see the other guy," she muttered, and grinned. She gave the prostrate thug a swift kick in the ribs for good measure. "Hey, thanks for the help!" she sneered at pedestrians hurrying down the other side of the street. "My heroes!" One of them at least had enough dignity to glance her way and look embarrassed.
Having made her point to her satisfaction, Lisa doubled back for her mercifully intact jacket, then limped around the corner at the fastest speed she could muster. The more distance she put between herself and the probable police investigation, the better. She took a moment to take in another deep breath and reassess the situation. What had she been thinking, getting involved? That was the kind of rank idiocy she'd have scoffed at months ago. Putting your life on the line to save one person you'd never met from a stay in the hospital didn't make the world a better place. It didn't even make Brockton Bay a better place. No, the sole effect was to potentially truncate your own extremely precious life for the sake of a few minutes of moral superiority.
Still, she'd already done the damage, so she might as well try to live with it.
Lisa's power nagged at the back of her mind.
Woman shocked, frozen. Not able to process situation. Still in the alley…
Lisa groaned, but turned and picked her way back along a path towards the alley. Of course, she came at it from a different angle, taking great care to avoid retracing her steps. Apparently, playing the hero wasn't enough for her today. No, today she was a trauma counselor, too.
Just as her power had predicted, the woman she'd saved from the Empire thug still trembled towards the back of the alley, like cornered prey. She looked up at Lisa, startled, but remained mute.
"You're welcome," Lisa said. "What the hell are you still doing here? I didn't run cover for you for the fun of it."
The woman shook her head weakly, clutching her bag to her chest. She refused to meet Lisa's eyes. Her lips moved faintly, but no sound emerged.
Lisa crossed her arms. "Oh, come on. Just get out of here already, would you? You're putting me on edge." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "He's going to be on the pavement for a while sleeping off the concussion I gave him, so if that's what you're worried about, scram."
The woman jerked her head in a feeble nod before finally scrambling off and disappearing around the corner. Lisa watched her go, and sighed. At least that was done with, finally.
She promptly jumped about six feet as a voice spoke up from behind her.
"You shouldn't go out of your way to help trash like that."
Lisa whirled around, her brain filling in the picture for her even as she did so.
There, perched on a second-story windowsill behind her, was the cherry on top of a perfect afternoon.
Shadow Stalker's cloak fluttered out of sync with the warm breeze wafting down the alley.
Fortunately, Lisa's reflexes never missed a beat when it came to needling this particular sociopath, or she might actually have been caught somewhat wrong-footed.
"Thanks for the help," she said, her lips in a sarcastic twist. "Unfortunately, it seems like you missed your chance to jump in."
Not following the patrol schedule. Not on patrol. Out for her own amusement. Needs amusement, frustrating day at school. Frustrating, because she got chewed out by the Wards again…
Not that there was any point dwelling on that line of thought too deeply now, with the concealment of her identity an absolute necessity.
Shadow Stalker shrugged. "You didn't need it. You should be proud of that. Most of the whimpering sheep in this shithole don't have the guts to do jack about anything."
Being complimented by Shadow Stalker was even more distressing than staring down her loaded crossbows.
"Gee, thanks for the pep talk, but feel free to pitch in to stop the skinhead next time," Lisa said, taking care to slather on an extra-thick layer of sarcasm. "I'd rather have a fully-functioning set of organs than my pride, if it's all the same to you."
Shadow Stalker shrugged again. "Whatever. Not my problem."
Lisa knew she should let things go at that, but just couldn't help herself.
"Isn't it, though? I mean, you are a Ward, aren't you?"
Thinks you're too stupid to get her point. Disappointed. Rolling her eyes…
Gee, thanks for the info, Lisa thought.
"Look, if you don't get what I'm saying, your problem," Shadow Stalker said, her voice cold. "Maybe you'll understand someday. I've got better stuff to do for now." Her form misted black, and she fell backwards through the window, out of sight.
"Thanks for nothing, nutjob!" Lisa yelled after her. She took a deep breath, and grinned. While unexpected, a chance to needle Shadow Stalker without any likelihood of reprisal had done wonders for her mood. She could almost forgive herself the suicidally stupid heroic grandstanding, now. Lisa checked her wristwatch. Taylor had probably been wondering where she was for some time. She hurried off in the direction of Arcadia High, humming contentedly as she went.
Taylor stood near the main entrance, against the wrought-iron fence which stood between the school and the street. She looked up as Lisa approached.
"Did anything happen? It's not like you to be late."
Lisa smiled. "No biggie. I just had a little run-in with somebody who wasn't up to anything particularly good, but believe me, you should see the other guy. Burgers?"
