Six months later:
Mallory was on her way back to her apartment when she heard the screaming and the screeching tires. She rolled her eyes in annoyance, looking down at the bag in her arms. She patted the neck of a bourbon bottle wistfully. "Later," she promised as she stashed the bag and her sweats in an alley and flew out towards the noise.
She found the disturbance a few streets over, where a tank-like vehicle was ramming the side of the Metropolis Mint. It was clearly the work of Intergang, but she didn't even stop to think about what they could have put together to stop her Kryptonian partners. She just wanted to get the fight over and get back to her place. She flew to the front of the machine as it backed up to hit the wall again and shot up as it came towards her, catching hold of the front to push it over. An electric current ran through her, forcing her to let go and sending her down to the sidewalk as convulsions ran through her body. She shut her eyes for a moment, forcing herself to breath as the pain ran its course. When it became more tolerable, her eyes snapped open, flames leaping out of them as she stood, fury taking over.
The tank changed course, coming directly at her. She flamed up, standing her ground, and at the last moment, she jumped, boosting herself to the top of the tank and coming feet first at the door. Her fire hit the metal before her body did, melting it, and she went straight through, dragging the operators out the other side by the scruffs of their bodysuits. She could have dropped them with the SCU who had set up a perimeter by that time, but instead she flew straight up, flying well past the top of the tallest building. The men in her grip were struggling, yelling, and staring down at the pavement miles below them.
"Hey!" she yelled, and they stilled in her grasp. "I wouldn't struggle if I was you. I might lose my grip, and you wouldn't want that."
One of the men looked up at her, his face full of confidence. "You wouldn't drop us, hero," he said, pulling out a handgun from a holster hidden in his bodysuit. "Now, bring us down, or–"
She opened her fist, and gravity pulled him down towards the street below, his screams echoing off the sides of the buildings as he went. His partner looked at her, his eyes wide with fear. "Look, I don't want any trouble," he started.
Inferno narrowed her eyes. "A little late for that, don't you think?" She looked down, keeping an eye on the man falling to his death, and sighed when he passed one if the lower buildings, preparing to dive down to get him. A flash if blue caught him before she could move, and she rolled her eyes with annoyance as Superman dropped the man with the cops and flew up to meet her.
"I think you dropped something," he said, but his face held no humor.
"I had it under control," she snapped, turning around to bring the second operator to the cops on the street.
"Inferno," Clark said, his tone firm, commanding.
She raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. We need to talk?" she asked with mock sweetness. He nodded solemnly, and she shook her head. "Sorry, I just don't have the time right now. I'll have to check my schedule and try to fit you in. No promises."
He put a hand on her shoulder, holding her in place. "I'm not asking," he said firmly.
She narrowed her eyes, then relaxed and raised an eyebrow, dropping the second operator without a second thought. Clark jumped, looking between her and the man with a shocked and conflicted expression on his face. She tilted her head, looking at his hand that was still holding her in place. "Oh, come on, Clark. We both know what you're going to choose, so just get on with it," she said.
He narrowed his eyes at her. "This isn't over," he said, but he let her go and flew down to catch the man. Mallory rolled her eyes, flying in the other direction and cutting her flames a few times so he wouldn't be able to track her ion trail as easily. "Great, I'll look forward to it," she muttered.
She landed at the opening of the alley and grabbed her sweats from the top of the bag. She was tying the drawstring of the pants when a voice in the shadows said, "So, you're terrorizing people now?"
She stiffened at the familiar voice and lit her eyes to see in the dark. Nightwing was there, leaning against the brick wall of one of the buildings. She didn't answer for a moment, pulling on her sweatshirt, and he pushed off the wall and walked over to her bag.
"I'm not in the mood to talk over old times. And I don't need any more lectures from you or any of the others," she said, taking her mask off.
He held up the two bottles of bourbon, one eyebrow raised. "Really?"
Her eyes widened, then narrowed, and she snatched the bottles away from him. "I'm not gonna set the city on fire, so you can report back to the others that everyone's safe from me."
Dick tilted his head a little, his eyes softening behind his mask. "I'm not worried about the city, Mallory. I'm worried about you. We all are. What happened to you after you left QU?"
Mallory looked down, shifting the weight of her bag and not looking at her friend. She could still feel his eyes on her, waiting for her answer. She sighed and went to the opening of the alley. "Nothing. I just kept living," she said quietly, and she slipped out of the alley, blending in with the afternoon pedestrian traffic in seconds.
Twenty minutes later, Mallory pushed open the door to her apartment, shutting it with a heavy sigh, not even bothering to try to turn on the light. She knew it wouldn't come on. She tossed her mail on the kitchen counter and went to the cabinet to get a glass and poured herself a drink from one of the bottles. She looked around her apartment, completely empty except for a gumbo pot turned upside down by the window. The sight didn't do anything to lift her spirits. She sighed and sipped her drink, leaning against the counter for a moment.
It had been three months since she'd left Quitters United, nearly two since she'd seen anyone from the team. Even Clark had made himself scarce after she left, respecting her wishes to be seen as a solo hero. Before she quit, she thought she had it all made, the rest of her life mapped out. She'd graduated college just before her 22nd birthday and gotten a job within a month, taken her savings and leased an apartment in Metropolis, and she, Roy, and Dick had gotten back to their roots, weeding out street crimes in the Metropolis/Star/Bludhaven area, occasionally working with the others to find information or provide backup. It was good, really good. But then it wasn't.
She could pinpoint the exact moment that her life started going downhill. November 11, at 6:15 in the morning, in the kitchen of Roy's new house. She and Dick had stayed over at Roy's after a late night, and of course Lian wasn't letting them leave without squeezing some playtime out of them. Lian, Roy, and Dick were in the next room playing a board game, and she'd gotten up to find them some breakfast. It was at that moment that it hit her: it was Wally's birthday. All of the dreams he shared with her, all of the things she knew he would have done popped into her head, and suddenly her life felt stolen, like it shouldn't belong to her.
That was the first stone to drop, the first ripple in her downward spiral. After that, she decided to leave the Quitters, thinking that if she could just keep to herself she would work through things. After that, she started patrolling more. Not just Metropolis, Central and Keystone, too. And any time there was a threat to another city, she was there, whether she was asked or not. She thought that if she could just do enough good in the world, she would stop feeling so guilty, but it was never enough. It started to take a toll on her, until her work on her day job was suffering. It didn't take long for her boss to sit her down and give her her first and second warnings, and then that was that. She lost her dream job, was nearly out of her savings, and she still carried the weight of Wally's death on her shoulders.
Mallory shook her head, blinking the thoughts away. The last thing she wanted to do was take a trip down memory lane. It was too painful. She tilted her head, eying the stack of mail, and brought them to the living room, sliding down the wall with the mail in one hand and her glass and bottle in the other. She took another sip and started sifting through the envelopes. Bills, mostly, a few spam letters, and…her heart dropped and a stab of alarm went through her chest at the big, bold letters on the last envelope: eviction notice. She tore it open, her eyes flying over the letter, hoping against hope that it was a mistake. As if there was a chance. But no, there it was in black and white, the landlord ordering Mallory Alita Johnson to vacate the premises within thirty days.
She crumpled the letter in her fist, leaning her head against the wall, tears of desperation gathering at the corner of her eyes. She was a failure. It was as simple as that. She was a failure as Inferno, unable to even die when she needed to, and she was a failure as Mallory.
"It should have been me," she murmured to herself, for the first time voicing the thought that had been hanging over her for six months. With the admission, a floodgate opened, and the tears came uncontrollably. She rested her arms on her knees and buried her face in them, her depression and grief pouring out in the middle of the empty apartment that was no longer hers.
Sorry it's so short, it's just a segue into the next section, so the length of the chapters will get back to normal after this. I have had a plan for the end of the story since before I started writing it, so don't worry, updates will still be coming for a while. Anyway, hope you liked it, please review!