The smell of burnt toast hung heavy in the air, a testament to Mom's valiant but eternally doomed attempts at breakfast. Mom sat hunched over the morning edition of the Gazette, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Morning, Ma," I greeted her with a soft smile, slumping into the chair across from her. I breathed a silent sigh of relief as my gaze fell on the vacant seat beside her. Thank God Jake had already hauled his hungover ass off to another construction site. At least some peace and quiet for a change.
"Mornin', honey," she greeted, her smile strained at the edges. "Sleep alright? You look like you got punched by a mugger in an alley."
"About as well as you can sleep with a freight train snoring next door," I muttered, relaxing the scowl I didn't realize I was wearing. "Think the mugger would be the one hurting if he tried to hit me." I offered a half-hearted grin.
"That darn Jake," she chuckled, shaking her head. "Like a bear hibernating after a bender."
"Now imagine it with my hearing." I grumbled.
"Coffee?" she asked, gesturing to the lukewarm pot.
"Yeah, please."
We sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall. As I sipped from my mug, I noticed Mom wince and shift uncomfortably. Her hand instinctively went to her side, a gesture I knew all too well.
"You alright?" I asked softly, the usual guilt twisting in my gut.
She offered a reassuring grin. "Just an old ache, honey. Don't you worry about it."
Her eyes darted back to the newspaper, a spark of excitement replacing the weariness.
"Have you seen this?" she asked, her eyes glued to the page. The newspaper rustled faintly in her hands as she pointed at a headline.
"No, what's it about?" I inquired, rising from my chair. I walked over and leaned over her shoulder, catching sight of the title of the article.
Scarlet Streak Rescues Victims from Building Inferno.
The picture, grainy and low-quality, showed a red blur barely distinguishable against the flames. Mom's grip tightened on the paper, her knuckles turning white.
"It's about this new hero, Clark," she started, her voice hushed with awe. "They're saying he's been rescuing people in Central City, moving faster than the eye can see."
I skimmed the article. One witness described being trapped in a burning high-rise until the red-clad man appeared, whisking them to safety in the blink of an eye.
My pulse hammered in my ears. Another one, I mused silently. Just yesterday there was the woman, and now this red streak. But this... this was different. This guy was using his power out in the open. Vigilantes weren't an uncommon sight, but superpowered ones added a whole new twist.
"Clark, isn't this incredible? Just like you!" Mom beamed.
My stomach clenched and I forced a smile. "Yeah, Ma, that's... great." I mumbled, the words feeling hollow. No. This hero crap wasn't like me. It wasn't some noble act, it was a curse. A dangerous, messed-up curse that had already caused enough pain in my life.
Her gaze met mine, and her hand flew to her mouth. "It's not you, is it?"
"Of course not, Mom," I replied. "You know how careful I have to be."
Like the mysterious woman, this guy shared the exact same ability as me. It was a small comfort to know I wasn't the only one out there. Although, I highly doubted he'd ever crushed his own mother's ribcage. That messed-up category was reserved solely for me.
A bitter taste rose in my throat. Envy? Maybe a sliver of it. This guy, whoever he was... Flash, the article called him... he had it all figured out. Living a life I couldn't even dream of. No fear, no shame, just... acceptance.
But my attention was quickly diverted to another headline: Gotham Clown Strikes Again in Brutal Murder Spree.
The city's streets had once again become a playground for that sadistic killer, despite the efforts of law enforcement to capture him. Another victim had been discovered on the bleak thoroughfares of Monaghan Avenue.
Just a couple of blocks away.
A wave of panic crashed over me. "Mom, where's your phone?" I blurted out.
A startled expression crossed her face as she lifted the newspaper, revealing her device.
"I need to show you something important," I explained. I guided her through the steps on her phone, navigating to our conversation thread. "See that little plus button? Tap on it, and you'll find the 'Location' option. Press it again, and I'll receive your exact coordinates on my phone."
She followed my instructions, peering over her reading glasses as she tried to decipher the intricate icons and buttons. Her index finger hesitantly tapped on the glass surface, tracing the path I'd laid out.
"Clark, why are you showing me this?" she asked, a slight crease forming on her forehead.
"There's a maniac on the loose in Gotham. He's operating in our district."
She sucked in a sharp breath, her face draining of color.
"I need you to promise me something," I pressed on. "If you see anything even remotely suspicious, anything that makes you feel unsafe, you'll send me your location with this button. One tap, and I'll know where you are."
Mom nodded slowly. "Alright, honey," she said, her heartbeat quickening ever so slightly. "I promise."
I let out a soft exhale, feeling the tension in my chest gradually ease. With this precaution in place, she'd have a lifeline to reach out to me in times of trouble. I squeezed her hand gently, quickly withdrawing it before I did any more damage.
"Thank you, Mom."
The shrill of the classroom bell was a merciful jolt after Professor Singh's mind-numbing White-Collar Crime lecture. I shuffled out with the rest of the zombie-eyed students, Helena beside me practically fuming. The case study Singh had been droning on about had her clearly fired up.
"Morgan freaking Edge," she hissed through gritted teeth. "The audacity of that prick, playing God with people's lives like it's some Monopoly game."
I grunted in agreement, still picturing Edge's smug face plastered across the professor's slides. "Makes you want to rip the damn tie off his neck and use it to floss," I muttered darkly.
This earned me a sharp elbow from Helena. "Clark!" she scolded playfully. I managed to diffuse her blow with a barely perceptible shift of my hip. "But seriously, these guys think they're untouchable. They think they can just buy their way out of anything with teams of fancy lawyers and million-dollar bailouts."
"Think old Edge sleeps soundly at night?" I mused. "Knowing all the lives he's ruined?"
Helena snorted. "Knowing Edge, probably sleeps like a baby on a silk pillow. But hey, that's why we do what we do, right?" she said. "To make sure those silk sheets don't shield them forever."
"Yeah," I agreed. "Hopefully, once we get this damn degree, we'll have the power to actually do something about it."
We exited the lecture hall and were greeted by a wave of scorching sunlight. Helena squinted at the sky, her hand shielding her eyes. "Ugh, forgot my sunglasses again," she grumbled.
"Let's ditch the sun for a bit," I suggested, pointing towards a towering oak tree casting a cool shadow on the edge of the campus lawn.
As we walked, a sudden whoosh sliced through the air. An orange blur materialized in my peripheral vision – a rogue frisbee on a collision course with Helena's head. My gut clenched. Before conscious thought could even register, my hand shot out, snagging the disc inches from Helena's skull with a sickening thwack. Damn reflexes, I cursed silently.
Helena shrieked, as she whipped her head around. Her gaze flickered between me and the frisbee now trapped in my vice grip. "Holy... That was...close," she breathed.
"Seriously, some people..." I muttered, forcing myself not to send the damn thing sailing back towards the source - a gaggle of frat bros doubled over with laughter on a nearby bench.
"Jerks," Helena snorted, glaring at the group of douchebags.
I forced a smile, my grip tightening around the plastic disc. "Wanna toss this back, or should I aim for the source?" I said, handing the disc back to her.
"Tempting," she admitted, but she just tossed it on the grass.
We reached the oak, its low-hanging branches forming a cool, leafy canopy. As we ducked beneath them, a startled squirrel chittered its displeasure, and scampered up the bark.
I leaned back against the sturdy trunk, letting out a guttural sigh. The weight of the day's lectures seemed to melt away, replaced by the sweet scent of honeysuckle. My gaze drifted upwards, tracing the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves above. It danced on my skin in a way that felt almost foreign, prickling pleasantly on my arms and face.
"Hey, Clark," Helena said, undoing the hoodie around her waist and placing it on the soft grass.
"Yeah?"
"Anne from my sparring class is throwing a party tonight," she announced, settling down next to me in one fluid motion. "Thought it might be fun if you came along."
I hesitated for a moment. The world of her wealthy friends felt a million miles away from my own life. The thought of navigating a sea of trust-fund babies and champagne fountains made me want to crawl back into Professor Singh's lecture hall. Not to mention the fact that I had my next session with her dear father later in the evening.
"Thanks for the invite, Helena," I replied. "It sounds...fun. But I've already got stuff going on tonight."
A flicker of disappointment crossed her face, swiftly masked by a grin. Leaning closer, she tilted her head enticingly. "C'mon, Clarkie," she cajoled. "Let's shake things up. I want to experience something different with you, for a change."
Her words tugged at the edges of my resistance. Yet, duty beckoned. I couldn't exactly leave the Bat hanging.
"Alright," I conceded with a sigh. "Listen, I can't make any promises, but if things free up later, I'll swing by. How's that?"
A radiant smile spread across Helena's face as she shifted her position, her gaze sweeping across the sun-kissed surroundings. "You know," she mused, "can't remember the last time I soaked up some rays. "I'm starting to look as pale as a bidet,"
I studied her. The vibrant green grass beneath us seemed to mock her translucent skin. "Well, then," I replied, "seems like the perfect opportunity to rectify that."
Then, as if it were the most natural thing, she lowered herself onto my lap, her head nestling gently against my chest.
Heat flooded my system, a hummingbird taking flight in my ribcage. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. I held my breath, afraid even the slightest movement would shatter this unexpected closeness.
I closed my eyes for a moment, soaking it all in – the intoxicating scent of her jasmine shampoo, the whisper of her breath against my skin, and the soothing thump of her heartbeat.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed, interrupting our little moment. Helena chuckled, "Hmm, a vibrating massage seat..." I cracked a smile, retrieving the device halfway from my pocket. I glanced down at the screen, it was a text from Pete.
Before I could fully retrieve the phone, Helena swiftly snatched it from my pocket. "Hey," I protested, attempting to reclaim the device, but she effortlessly evaded my reach, her body pressed flush against mine.
I froze, every muscle in my body locking tight. This was uncharted territory and stupid risks were a luxury I couldn't afford. My mind screamed warnings, conjuring worst-case scenarios. The last thing I wanted was for a lighthearted moment to take a dangerous turn.
Helena raised my phone aloft with a flirtatious grin. "Going to catch it back, big guy?" she taunted, her intense gaze challenging me. The cautious voice in my head sputtered and died.
"Alright," I rumbled with a playful edge, "how 'bout you hand it over?" My mind raced, strategizing the safest way to reach. I shifted my weight carefully, adjusting my position against the trunk to create space for a controlled movement.
She propped herself up on her hands, still holding my phone just beyond my reach. "Make me," she dared, cocking her head.
It stirred something primal deep within me. Summoning every ounce of meticulous precision, I reached out for the phone, each muscle in my body working in harmony to execute the subtlest of motions.
Laughter erupted between us as we playfully wrestled for control of the phone, each of my actions deliberately choreographed. Our bodies intertwined in a momentary tangle of limbs and banter.
In a calculated lunge, I landed on top of her with a triumphant smirk. Our eyes locked in a playful duel.
"Alright, I yield," she conceded with a mock sigh. "You win this round."
Her gaze lingered on my eyes before gradually drifting down to my lips. A slow smile spread across her face, like she knew exactly what I was thinking.
The world around us faded into insignificance, and I became acutely aware of the rapid rhythm of her heart, synchronizing with my own.
My head was at war with my body. Shifting my weight, I propped myself up on my elbow. I inched my hand closer, every muscle screaming at me to back off. But I physically couldn't. I reached out, fingertips brushing the delicate curve of her jaw, light as a butterfly landing. The jolt of heat that shot up my arm was like a shot of adrenaline. Doubts and fears scattered like dust in a windstorm.
A rising heat spread from my fingertips, tracing a path of desire that traveled through my core. It flared even hotter as I leaned in, slowly closing the distance between us.
Our lips finally met, the first touch a tentative test. Then, something clicked. Like a dam bursting, the pent-up longing flooded out. Our kiss deepened, messy and hungry, fueled by weeks of simmering tension. The taste of her was a sweet explosion against my senses. My body instinctively seeked hers, pressing closer with excruciating care.
My mind stayed hyper-aware, every nerve attuned to our delicate exchange. Each caress of her cheek, every brush of my lips against hers was a dance of restraint. My touch light as a feather, afraid to apply even a gram of pressure.
Helena's fingers entangled themselves in my hair, gripping firmly and urging me closer. I let her pull me, forcing my body to follow, as a low groan ripped from my throat. Raw heat radiated off her like a furnace, and I could feel myself harden. Her nails dug into my back sending a rush of craving flooding through me. My body thrummed with a raw, desperate need. Every fiber of my being screaming for more. Fuck, I wanted to have her. Pin her against the rough bark of the tree, feel her gasp under my weight...
The image sent a jolt of terror through me. An icy fist that squeezed my heart at the direction my thoughts were taking. It was a stupid fantasy, a fleeting thought. I wouldn't act on it. Especially not here, in the open. But not even in the wildest recesses of my imagination could I entertain that. I couldn't forget the power I had to hurt. I couldn't lose control, not for a second, not with her. Especially knowing the damage a single slip of my focus could cause.
With a conflicted sigh, I reluctantly pulled away, gently extricating myself from her grasp. Helena's eyes fluttered open, surprise and disappointment crossing her face.
"Whoa, easy there, tigress," I rasped, "Public place, remember?" I smirked.
"Hmm?" she reached for my mouth again.
"Maybe we should cool it for a sec."
"Right," she conceded, glancing around the campus. A beat of silence stretched between us.
"Seriously though," Helena murmured, "can't believe you've been holding this out on me, Mr. Kent."
Holy freaking cow. My head was still spinning as I walked back home. Did that seriously just happen?
Never thought I'd even let myself dream about something like that, let alone jump headfirst into the freaking fire. Not with my lethal touch curse hanging over us like a Damocles sword.
But damn, it had felt inexplicably right. Before my traitorous thoughts got carried away, that is. Shockingly, I'd managed to keep my cool, didn't let my emotions hijack the show. My brain stayed razor-sharp, aware of every move I made.
And somehow, it freaking worked.
A tiny flicker of hope, stubborn as a weed, poked through the cracks. Maybe, just maybe, with the right amount of caution, there could be a sliver of a chance for us.
But let's not get ahead of ourselves. It was a balancing act on steroids, akin to walking on eggshells where the eggs were dynamite. One wrong step and it's all over. I had to keep my focus at all times.
For all my calculated moves, being close to her carried an inherent risk. But I wasn't one to shy away from a challenge. I'd do whatever it took to keep her safe, even if it meant protecting her from my own damn self. Seen what happened when you let your guard down for a split second, the kind of mess a single careless mistake could make. No way in hell was I letting that happen again.
Lost in my thoughts, I was yanked back to reality by the insistent buzzing of my phone. Pete, no doubt, blowing me up for ignoring his messages. I dug it out, unlocking the screen to a swarm of notifications. The first one cut to the chase.
"Yo."
No beating around the bush here.
"SAY SOMETHING."
Pete's impatience practically radiated from the screen. Curiosity piqued, I scrolled through the notifications, finally landing on Pete's initial message that sparked all the commotion.
"Got the gig! Next Thursday at the Laughing Gargoyle."
Without wasting a beat, I fired up a voice message. "Hey, Pete! Congrats, man! That's awesome news. Seriously stoked for you! By the way, there's this party tonight at some swanky mansion up in Brentwood Heights. Wanna go and you can spill all the juicy details? I'll send you the address. Oh, and hold onto your hat, 'cause I got some news of my own..."