New chapter, like it. Or don't. I don't care...actually, that's a lie, I hate rejection. ):
I'm in over my head, aren't I?
I bent over, bracing my hands on my knees in an effort to catch my breath. Sweat poured off my face, soaking the front of my shirt. My heart pounded in my ears, but I heard Ivy approach me and sigh in dissappointment.
"Honestly, Quinn, I'd thought you were a little more durable than this."
My head snapped up. It just wasn't fair. She pushed me so hard, and then got mad at me when I was too exhausted to continue. A usual training session for us consisted of gymnastics, cardio, muscle-building exercises, and sparring. Although I don't think what we do can legally be called sparring, it was more like I stand there and try to keep from keeling over as Ivy smacks me around a room.
"I'm trying..." I grunted.
"Trying isn't good enough." She growled.
I stood upright. "Give me a break, Ivy. I'm only thirteen."
"I was results, not excuses." She snapped. "Now, come at me."
It was impossible, I was too tired, but I did as I was told. Ivy pivoted on her heel and kicked me in the stomach when I tried to trip her up. I fell to my knees, pain shooting up my abdomen. I gritted my teeth, holding my stomach, and slowly staggered back to my feet. This time Ivy scowled at me, holding up a silver staff she often used for training. I freaking hated the thing.
Crack!
I was on my hands and knees, struggling to regain my breath.
"Get up." Ivy barked.
Slowly, shakily, I obeyed.
Crack!
"Come on, Mallory. Get up!"
Crack!
Crack!
Cr-ack!
"Enough!" I roared, every inch of my skin burning with energy.
"...Quinnie?" Ivy's voice was wary.
My mind was full of static, a red veil obscured my vision. The power started to overwhelm me, consuming every fiber of my body. I tried to control it, to nullify the electricity building in my chest. It was no use, if anything my efforts only made it worse. It began to be hurt, I squeezed my eyes against the pain. Finally, I lost control. I threw my head back and screamed as electricity came off me in waves. Everything within a five foot radius got shocked, including Ivy.
Ivy's body was thrown against the far wall. She sank to the floor, moaning in pain and trembling with the aftereffects of my electric shock. I gasped, racing to her side and kneeling beside her. I was in so much trouble, Ivy got at me all the time for no reason. Now she has a reason.
Ivy made a noise in the back of her throat. It took me a moment, but I realizOed she was laughing.
"Good job, Sparky." She chuckled, pulling herself into a sitting position. "Very, very good."
"Um...thanks?" frowned.
"Now, get out of my sight." she waved me away.
Usually, this order would have me running. But she said it with a smile, and without the usual coldness in her voice. I left the room, snatching a water bottle from the cooler outside the training area. I drank half of it, pouring the rest over my sweaty scalp. The floors were made of grass, real grass, and would appreciate the extra drink.
Ivy's estate was a house in an abandoned housing development built over a toxic waste dump. Ivy had injected me with a toxin antidote so the waste wouldn't kill me. I guess that meant I have the same immunity to poison as Ivy now, plus some added benefits. Whatever was in that shot also enhanced my strength and stamina, a perk to being Ivy's assistant.
I went outside and walked across the yard, which resembled a scene from Jurassic Park, making my way to the house just opposite of Ivy's. My house, I guess you could say. It was only a two floor dilapitated little building, but it had air conditioning. At this time of year, air conditioners are usually not needed. Usually. But Ivy stole some junk from Weather Wizard to keep the air around the development warm for her babies. The heat didn't seem to bother Ivy at all, but it was absolute murder for me.
I stepped over the threshold, relishing in the blast of cold air that greeted me. I had no plants inside the house, absolutely none. The outside was coated in ivy tendrils and other vegetation, sure, but I had cleared out all plant life the day I moved in. I'm not quite sure why, maybe I just wanted to show Ivy that she didn't own me completely.
I planted Ivy's rose blossom in the dirt outside, which probably symbolizes something if you look hard enough.
I stepped into my brightly lit kitchen, cringing at the overly cheery yellow paint. My next home improvement project was going to have to be painting my walls so they don't look like a banana threw up all over them.
I grabbed a PowerBar from the top of my microwave and a Brisk ice tea from my fridge and went into my living room. This part of my house I had no problem with, it was like a freaking utopia for teenagers. A huge flat screen TV dominated the far wall, so big and beautiful I wanted to cry. Not completely sure how we get service, I guess that's one of the many mysteries of life that will never truly be solved.
I flopped down on my insanely comfortably futon-like couch and kicked off my shoes. I clicked on the TV and started watching the new episode of The Flaming C. In front of me, a file lay strewn across my coffee table. I averted my eyes, there was no need to worry about something I couldn't control.
Still, the infuriating thing kept drawing my attention away from the TV. I reached out and curled my fingers around the edges of the folder. The Flaming C was just making a bunch of bad guys slightly warm with his magical smoking oven mitt when I opened the file in my lap and leafed through the papers.
The documents layed out the details of my first heist.
I wasn't completely sure how I felt about that.
I mean, of course I was scared. But it was a numb kind of scared, like an emotion felt merely out of obligation. Poison Ivy was sending me into danger, a proper reaction to that kind of thing would be fear, right? Then again, how many people out there have been in my situation.
I tried to delay it, but Ivy took care of every minute detail. She gave me an air ship with automatic defenses and auto-pilot. The storage room on the ship was full of emergency supplies ranging from parachutes to bandages.
She even got me a costume, not that it mattered concidering the whole world probably knows about Ivy taking me on as a...a what? Apprentice? Assistant? What the hell am I anyway? Anyway, the suit was supposed to be prepared for any situation. Bullet proof, water proof, flame resistant, conducted electricity...there wasn't a single thing wrong with it. And believe me, I looked.
Maybe the whole theft thing won't even be a problem. I'm starting to get a handle on my powers...at least, I can keep myself from electrocuting people most of the time. The plant juice Ivy shot me up with has turned me into a freaking acrobat... Ivy's taught me to fight, even if I still get my butt whooped during training. I think I can hold myself in a fight...at least I hope I can...
Okay, so maybe having self-confidence isn't my strong suit.
I threw the file back on the coffee table, trying to concentrate on The Flaming C and The Invasion of the Snow People. About ten, fifteen minutes later I heard a crash as the front door was slammed open and a very angry Ivy stormed into my living room.
I pressed myself into the leather interior of the futon, eyes stretched open wide in alarm. The only other time I faced the full force of Ivy's anger was the other month when I accidently knocked over Ivy's dragonsnaps. I had to hide in a closet for about nine hours until she calmed down.
In a flash Ivy had me by the ear and was dragging me towards the back room.
"Ivy...what's going on? Ow! Ow! Leggo!"
Ivy shoved something into my arms, the costume, and gave me a scowl.
"Change of plans, kid, get dressed. We have to grab the diamond and book it..." She looked over her shoulder as if afraid of being seen.
"And by we I assume you mean me." I frowned.
"Now you're learning." She nodded, turning on her heel and leaving me alone.
I blinked, knowing that it was pointless, and stupid, to argue with Ivy. I stripped out of my old clothes, changing into the blue and white bodysuit. I reached behind my back, struggling to pull up the zipper on the back. The costume was dominantly blue, the exact color of lightning flashes, with white detailing and inertia absorbers. Naturally, the costume itself was made of rubber to conduct my electricity with ease. My gloves were blue, with strips of metal on the palms. I told Ivy what had happened with the batarang and she thought I could use my magnetizing ability to my advantage. I looped a silver belt around my waist and pulled a white mask over my eyes. Why I needed a mask, I couldn't tell you. Ivy designed the costume herself, deeming me Electrolyte.
She could call me Sparky-Sparky-Boom Girl for all I cared, I didn't want to go.
When I was all suited up, I went into the living room and saw someone had changed the channel. Ivy, however, was no where in sight. Shrugging, I picked up the remote and prepared to change it back so I could see if the Flaming C was on again.
The images I saw dancing across the screen made me freeze. It was...me. Pictures of me flickered in front of my eyes, recent ones from my trip to Arkham and old ones taken as far back as kindergarten. I clutched the remote so hard my fingers hurt. Nervously, I looked at the name of the program:
GOOD GIRL GONE BAD: THE STORY OF QUINN MALLORY.
Intrigued, I leaned forward and glued my eyes to the screen. A woman, Cat Grant, appeared on the TV; shaking her head in fake sadness. I'd seen it all before, a huge tragedy in the nation and everybody tries to jump on the coattails. Except this time, I was the tragedy.
"Now we go to Mallory's aunt for a deeper look into this troubled youth's life."
The camera cut away and my mean aunt Ruby, who always wore these god-awful robes around her house that barely covered everything, materialized in front of me. She was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief, which would've been heartbreaking if I didn't know that she was faking it. Ruby cared little for me and my parents. If anything, she was just using the family crisis to get attention.
"I..I just don't understand..." she sniffed, leaning against the handsome young reporter beside her.
"I mean...Quinn wasn't very popular in school. Always writing these creepy little poems about death, walked around with the most hateful expression in her face. I told her parents she needed help, but they couldn't believe their baby girl could hurt so much as a fly. And now look at them..."
I balled my hands into fists. Ruby had no conversation with my parents. She only showed up during Christmas so she could collect her gifts, cram half a dozen deviled eggs down her throat, and book it.
"If Quinn's watching this, I want her to hear something..." Ruby got closer to the screen.
"You're scum, you hear me? Sooner or later the police are going to catch you and you'll spend the rest of your life behind bars you heartless, little monster!"
I'd had enough, I turned off the TV and hurled the remote at the wall. Fighting off tears, I made my way to the bathroom so I could splash cold water on my hot face. I was furious and heartbroken at the same time. I didn't care that Ruby was just blowing smoke so she could getI it on with the reporter, he words stung.
Scum...
Heartless...
Monster...
I looked up, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Even with my hair dyed blonde, I was still recognizable as Quinn. At this point disguises didn't matter, but every time I looked in the mirror and thought of myself as Quinn Mallory a wave of pain and anguish crashed down on me. I looked too much like mom and dad for me to ever be able to stand the person I saw in the mirror.
At that moment I knew what I had to do. I had to kill Quinn Mallory. Sever all ties to my old life and be reborn as Electrolyte. And let's be honest, what did I have left of my old life? A mean old aunt who was only interested in getting a man? Some family.
Briefly, I wondered about the kids at school I used to know. They probably talked about me for awhile, then moved on to something far more interesting. I could just imagine the conversations they had 'Quinn always was a freak' or 'Jeez, Mallory? Her locker was right next to mine! She could've snapped and killed me at a moment!'
I reached into the cabinet and pulled out a pair of scissors and a bottle of hair dye. Later on I'd ask Ivy about some other accessories that I'd need to complete my makeover. In order for this to work, I had to change a lot more than my hair color.
I grabbed a strand of yellow hair, slid the sharp edge of the scissors down its length, and closed the two blades together with a satisfying snip. The hair fell from my hand to the porcelain basin beneath me, lying in the drain like a blonde hairball.
If the whole world wanted me to be a psychopath, fine.
I'd be the baddest psychopath they'd ever seen.
Not very eventul, but I wanted to establish that even Quinn's surviving family is unreliable. Plus I felt it was important to delve into what Quinn thinks about finding herself in the 'care' of a supervillian.
Random: now I love Klarion to death, but his fingernails are out of control. Did he paint them black and sharpen them with a file or something? If so, why? Is it supposed to make him look scary? I'd be scared if he threatened to gouge my eyes out with them or something, but otherwise...*shrug*