Steve Stronghold is not one of the super-heroes who honestly thinks about the villains that he fights. In his mind, it is simple: they are bad, and he is good. It is a black and white world, through his eyes. Good stays on one side of the barrier, and bad on the other. The two do not mix- there are no hints of gray in his world. Only dark and light.
Most superheroes think of the world this way, which is why they tend to leave the teenaged pickpockets to the police. It is because of this way of thought that is so common in superheroes that they dread stumbling upon a kid holding up a grocery store. Because more often than not, when they grab the struggling teen and force them to give it up, they feel the ribs of that child jutting sharply out from their bodies. It is because when the police come to take the thief away, the superheroes cannot help glancing at the shadows and seeing, hidden behind the corner of the building, the dirty child whose eyes show a world of feelings- hunger, fear, anger, sadness, dead parents, and now a brother or a sister in jail, simply for trying to feed their sibling. This is why most superheroes stick to their super-villains- they do not have to worry about shadows of grey.
And that is where the GodSends come in. They destroy every hero's perfect view of the world. They are on no side in particular, only fighting the fights that they are told to. This means that sometimes they are on the side of the heroes, and sometimes on the side of the villains. Sometimes, it's unclear which side they are on. Most heroes don't like working with the GodSends, because chances are they'll be fighting against them within a week. They bend every rule that Steve has every lived his life by- and for this reason, he bends his own rules when he knows that one is around.
"Jetstream!" he calls, careful to use his wife's code name. "Jetstream! You fly on ahead, I'll, uh, I'll catch up with you later. There might be some- er. The person who was, uh, controlling this robot may. Still be around. Yes." He nods importantly to emphasize his point.
Josie looks down at her husband oddly. Steve rarely ever considers the fact that there might be someone behind it all, something deeper going on. She rarely considers it either, though more often than him. All the same, she waves to him to show she got the message, and flies off toward home.
Satisfied that Josie is out of sight, Steve turns and runs into the nearby alley way, cape billowing behind him. He is just in time to see a bandaged figure turn down another alley- an alley that is illuminated by a suspicious blue light. He speeds up, turns the corner, and barely manages to grab a bandaged wrist just before the body connected to it steps into a portal. Steve jerks the owner of that wrist back and she yelps.
She turns to face him, hair hanging in her face, and Steve has no doubt that she is shooting him a death glare underneath the many bandages that cover her eyes.
"Judgment." His voice is calm and even, with a slight undertone of something dangerous- it is a voice that he has been perfecting for years.
"Steve." Her voice is calm and even like his, but she allows some of her annoyance to show through it.
"Don't call me that, judgment, I'm in costume and you know it. Don't give me that crap about not being able to see through those bandages." He continues to glare at her for a minute, daring her to respond. She looks bored. He growls. "Damn it! I want a word, Judgment!"
Judgment raises an eyebrow. "Just one word, Steve? You know what? I'm feeling generous. I'll go so far as to give you two. Let. Go." She pulls the arm that he holds captive back, but both of them know that she can't really pull her arm free.
Steve growls, and he can feel the beginnings of anger well up within him. "I'm serious, Judgment, so you had better get serious too or I will crush your wrist." He tightens his grip, just to warn her.
Judgment, for her part, is unfazed by his threat. "The Commander, serious? I thought I'd never see it happen."
Steve suddenly drops her wrist, crying out in pain. There is a dagger stuck through his hand, the hilt of it still inside Judgment's wrist. She daintily removes the hilt from the muscles of her arm, and the skin closes with a sickening quietness that is worse than any noise Steve has ever heard. The next thing he knows, she has pulled the dagger from his hand without pausing at all for him to adjust. The pain brings him to his knees and he screams.
Judgment regards him without sympathy and presses the point of the dagger straight into her stomach. She slowly pushes it the rest of the way in, staining the bandages on her midriff with blood, his and hers, mixing together. She glances down at herself. The blood, her blood, has run all the way down her bandaged thighs and has even soaked into her white knee-length loincloth. The hilt of the dagger is still sticking out of her stomach, the rest of it sickeningly deep within her body. Judgment pushes it in the rest of the way with one finger. The skin closes up again, with that same uneasy quiet.
Sighing, Judgment drops down, balancing on the balls of her feet. One bloodied finger comes to rest under Steve's chin and slowly tilts his face up to look at hers. "I had nothing to do with the robot, Steve," she whispers. "I'm here on another assignment. I suggest that you don't try to question a member of the GodSends unless you have proof. Okay?" she stands and walks over to the portal, then stops just before stepping through. She turns to face him and grins. A blood covered hand moves to her forehead. "At ease, Commander," she says, and salutes him.
Then she has gone, and the Commander is alone in a dark alley, with no pain in his hand and a voice overhead calling his name.
Author's note: This will tie in with the story eventually, I promise. Everyone who reviewed, thanks.