Jenny rolled her eyes and squirmed as Santana's fingers moved at speed inside her vagina. Santana, for her part, was angry. The feeling wasn't directed at her supposed girlfriend, but to herself. Not that Jenny thought it was a bad thing. More energetic fucking appealed to her. It was really what was happening at the moment: a fuck. It began with Santana knocking on Jenny's apartment door and getting down to business.
"San... San... San..." Jenny spoke loudly, incoherently. "San!"
Santana slowed down, but her fingers still moved, seeking more contact with her vaginal walls, in order to prolong her partner's orgasm. Jenny didn't have time to catch her breath, however. Santana repositioned her body on top of Jenny's and kissed her on the mouth, while trying to fit in so as to achieve the friction she craved. When she reached the right position, she moved to bring on her own orgasm.
"San... let me... help you..."
"Just a minute." Santana said with irritation.
Jenny let Santana have her turn, and just watched the expression of the young woman she liked. Santana had her eyes closed as she moved, too focused on pleasuring herself. When she got close, she rested her forehead on Jenny's shoulder and bit the skin she found. The orgasm came. It wasn't an intense one, but it was enough. Santana relaxed on Jenny's body and then rolled onto her side. They were on the carpet, between the sofa and the coffee table. Santana stared at the ceiling for a moment and Jenny positioned herself next to her.
"Can I know what happened?" Jenny kissed Santana's shoulder before nibbling on it.
"No."
"Problems at college?"
"No, my grades are still good."
"Well?"
"I was working on that project, and one of my colleagues screwed it up."
"About the serial killer?"
"That's the one."
"Well, I hope you get frustrated more often." Jenny placed her hand on Santana's breast, massaging it lightly. "That was amazing."
"Jenny... and I think we should break up, whatever we have."
"What?" Jenny lifted her upper body to face her girlfriend. "A minute ago we were having an orgasm with each other, and now you want to break up? Are you bipolar by any chance?"
"Aren't you tired of the relationship we have? That you only look for each other when you feel itchy and there's no one better around?"
"Is that all you come to me for?" Jenny was visibly hurt.
"I'm sorry."
"I think you should get dressed and leave."
Santana didn't argue. She silently picked up her clothes and put them on quickly. Normally, after sex, she liked to take a shower. That wouldn't be the case here. She picked up her backpack from the floor and left the apartment without saying a word. Before getting into her car, she checked her cell phone. There were messages from Grant and Mercedes. Grant asked her to meet him at his apartment, Mercedes just asked if her friend was all right. Santana gave Grant a negative reply and told her best friend not to worry. She started the car and drove to the humblest part of town. She parked the car on the side of a street, where she knew there would be no security cameras. Still in the car, she put on her bulletproof vest, her jacket over it and, finally, her mask.
The route from there had already been studied. Not only did Santana have a privileged spatial and geographical intelligence, but the resources provided by Grant helped him to map out safe routes for them to take, with a minimum of security cameras along the way. Santana made her way to a street and made her way over the buildings. It was easy for her to run and jump, as she could do it with better dexterity than an Olympic-level athlete. That night, however, she found it a little difficult to jump accurately. There was a legend among boxers that having sex before a fight was bad because the legs and arms lost strength. Santana thought this must be true, judging by what she was experiencing.
She stood on top of a building and watched with binoculars. There was a convenience store nearby, but it was completely barred, and orders for the products were made directly through a small window. Stores with bars like that were the result of many robberies in the neighborhood. Santana walked around the block and that night seemed to be slow. She decided to listen to the police frequency, which was a valid resource for patrols, but for more risky actions. That night there were calls about neighbors' fights. The police could do a better job of that. She heard calls about loud noise complaints and theft reports. These were things that Santana didn't mind, even though she once purposely damaged the stereo in a guy's car at college because of the annoyance. Then there was a call about a robbery in progress in a distant neighborhood. It wouldn't be possible to get there in time. She decided to walk along the rooftops of the buildings towards the next block. That avenue was quiet, so she would try the next one.
Santana checked four blocks until she saw that in a residential apartment, a man was beating a woman and threatening her with a gun. Santana managed to enter the apartment through a half-open window. This allowed her to get behind the attacker and grab his wrist with the gun. She squeezed so hard that the bones in the man's wrist broke. The gun fell to the floor, while Santana immobilized the man amid an unbelievable repertoire of curses. A strong slap to his face solved the problem and the man fell silent.
"Oops!" Santana raised her hands when she realized the woman was pointing the gun at her. "I didn't come here to rob you, lady. I'm here to help you."
"Don't hurt him." The woman shouted.
The vigilante released the man and made gentle movements. This was not an uncommon occurrence, as many of the women who suffered domestic violence found it very difficult to leave their partners. Jenny explained once that this could be the result of a series of psychological pathologies, as well as the fear of threats and blackmail that many of them suffered. Nothing was simple.
"Look, if I were you, I'd call the police. Whatever happened between you, no man has the right to beat or abuse a woman. If you love yourself, you'll choose your dignity over dependence on a guy like that. Take this chance and run."
In one swift movement, Santana disarmed the woman.
"Know that you are so much more, that you are worth so much more. There are decent people in this world who would love you the way you deserve. Give yourself a chance. This guy doesn't love you. He's just using you to satisfy his ego. Think about it. Only you have the power to change your reality."
Santana left the apartment through the same window she entered. The gun was left on the roof of the building, as it was never good to get rid of a murder weapon. Back on patrol, she saw a gang nearby cornering a poor fellow. She acted quickly and, in the next minute, hit the ground and ran towards the gang. Seven against one wasn't fair, so she didn't moderate her force. She threw two of them away, crashing the young men into a wall. The others turned their attention to her and attacked. Santana drew on her strength, but also on the fighting techniques she trained almost every week with Grant. The limit she set for herself was not to kill. Breaking a few bones seemed reasonable for the type of situation. These clashes were capable of taking turns. Santana was strong, but she felt pain and the impact, for example, of the punch a guy had thrown at her face. The mask protected her identity, but it didn't cushion the blows. She also felt it when another attacked her with a chain that hit her back and legs. She reacted, throwing the men away. The last one pulled out a gun and shot her. Even with her bulletproof vest, the impact was painful. It made her take a few steps back. It was a matter of life and death to recover quickly. She moved as fast as she could even though she was shot a second time, disarmed the guy and the punch made him pass out.
"Are you okay?" she asked the man who was being beaten. He was just a middle-aged man dressed in a suit. Apparently, this man was carrying a briefcase and a bible.
"I just wanted to talk... they surrounded me. I told them I didn't have to get that far... but they just wanted to attack, like they were possessed." The man said in fear.
"I believe you, sir. Call the police... tell them whatever you want about those guys up. It's okay to blame me if you need it. Get back home safely."
Santana left the scene with a slight limp and her hand on her chest, as one of the bullets lodged in her vest. She disappeared from view of the man and the fallen gang, climbed one of the buildings and took stock of the damage. Her eye would remain purple for at least a whole day before healing. The bullets had been contained, but the blow from the chain she had taken to her legs had been very painful. If it hadn't been for the thick jeans, the blow would have cut into her skin. The worst was the sprained ankle. She was sure it would take at least three days to heal completely. She decided she'd had enough for the night, and returned to the car parked next to the market. She took off her mask and drove towards Stevenson, 304. The vigilante parked the car, put her vigilante clothes in her backpack. She walked towards the dormitory with a limp, a black eye and bruises all over her body.
"What the hell?" Mercedes was still awake at that hour and was startled by her friend's condition.
"Gang attack." Santana explained. "Seven against one." She lay down and grimaced in pain, causing Mercedes to react.
"Do I need to call Mike?"
"No need to bother him." Santana considered taking a shower, but also thought that her condition would draw attention from anyone who passed by. It was better to wait until the next day. "Cedes."
"What's wrong?"
"A painkiller would be good."
"Okay." Mercedes went to the space that was nicknamed the medicine cabinet to get a Dorflex.
"Cedes."
"Yes?"
"I broke up with Jenny."
"Is it for real this time?"
"Yes."
"Good for you."
...
It didn't matter that Rachel Berry personally went to the police station with Finn and Leroy and categorically reaffirmed that Hunter Clarington was her attacker. 72 hours after his arrest, the defense lawyers managed to get him released due to an absolute lack of evidence. There was nothing against him except Rachel Berry's testimony. Hunter had an alibi coming ironically from his own workplace, the Divas and Madpeople nightclub, with reports including Unique Adams defending her colleague. Furthermore, no evidence of any kind was found in his house, no hair or trophies from any of the victims.
Rachel Berry's name was forbidden from being disclosed in the legal proceedings, but that didn't mean she felt frustrated and even embarrassed by the failure to capture the man she was sure was her attacker. Even more frustrated by all this were Santana Lopez, Mercedes Jones and Grant Fish. If Hunter was guilty, finding the evidence could become a much more complex task, as he would have all the freedom and time to destroy any trace. That's why the best alternative became the flagrante. But how could the next victim and the next attack be predicted? The frustrating truth was that the serial killer was two steps ahead of everyone else.
"Grant said he installed the GPS on Hunter's bike." Santana commented to Mercedes as they walked down the avenue toward the state university's engineering lab. "I bet this guy is going to act like a lady these next few days. At least Grant can monitor him."
"You should stop dwelling on this, San. You're out on patrol almost every day, and you've got it in your head that Marley Rose could be the next victim. And you also refuse to answer any texts from Rachel Berry, even though you know you need to talk to her."
"I'm human too, Cedes. I'm sorry that anger, bitter and frustration are part of me."
"Are you at least going to do the play again? The reunion is tonight."
"I don't know." Santana frowned. "Thanks for walking me to the lab. I'll see you later."
...
Quinn loved cooler weather. Not only did she feel more energized and energetic, but she also sold more coffee at the community college. Cold weather was good for her health and for the health of her business. After her break from classes, Quinn took the time to go to the bathroom, leaving Joe to take charge of the concession stand. After relieving herself, she walked to the entrance gates, where she could see the historic main building, the parking lot, and the wide sidewalk that connected the two buildings that made up the campus. She saw two people nearby, smoking, since smoking was prohibited inside.
Quinn used to smoke as a teenager because, somehow, the toxic chemical acted as an inhibitor to her powers. She found it relaxing and convenient at the same time. Beth changed those habits. Quinn didn't know why this happened, but while she was pregnant, it was as if she had become a normal person again. Obviously, it was a temporary condition, as her powers manifested themselves again a few months after giving birth. After Beth, the smoking habit was in the past, in her teens when she even tried marijuana. She looked at those people and felt no envy. Quinn would no longer trade the feeling of her power in control, as she did in her meditation sessions with Mike, for an inhibitor in the form of a cigarette.
"A million dollars for your thoughts."
Quinn was taken aback by the presence of Rachel Berry at her side.
"Not that it's any of my business, but shouldn't you be in class?" Quinn asked.
"Yes, I should." Rachel said without hesitation. "I can't concentrate anymore. Not today."
"Why?"
"Since I was raped, I've had good days and bad days. Today is a bad day."
"You were..." The impact of the information felt like a punch to Quinn's stomach. "Oh, Rachel, I'm so sorry."
"Me too."
"Who did this to you?"
"A guy who used to come to my restaurant. Unfortunately, the police couldn't get any evidence against him, except my word. Can you believe he even got an alibi?"
"What the fuck!" Quinn ran a hand through his hair before facing the customer. "I'm really sorry this happened to you, Rachel."
The two young women were silent for a moment, clearly uncomfortable. Rachel was simply trying to find some calm amidst the whirlwind of thoughts and frustrations that invaded her mind. Quinn couldn't even move, because it seemed that any decision she made about keeping Rachel company or going back to work could be misinterpreted. In truth, Quinn could imagine what the client felt. She had never been raped, but she knew all too well what it was like to sleep with someone she didn't like just out of necessity. It was a past that Quinn would rather erase from her memory.
"Rachel, I have to get back to work... but I want you to know that if you need to talk, you can always reach out to me." Quinn forced a smile. "You can call me if you want."
Rachel wiped away a tear and nodded. She took her phone out of her backpack to record the phone number of the lovely girl who sold her coffee. Quinn was ready to dictate the numbers, but she stopped when she looked at Rachel.
"What is it?" Rachel was intrigued when she saw the girl in front of her completely paralyzed.
"Your eyes..."
...
The engineering laboratory building was nerdland. Much more than a place where students from different engineering disciplines developed projects, it was where the most creative minds could collaborate with each other. There was a robot MMA tournament with robotics, IT and electrical engineering students in the teams. There were competitions for civil engineering students that were done in collaboration with electrical, hydraulic and IT students. Santana once took part in a team to design a house to fulfill a guy's dream, which was to have a balcony where he could see the sunrise and sunset, and that his bedroom had to be protected from the hottest hours of the day. Santana's team developed the winning design for the house that rotated 180, as it was considered not only the most functional, but also the least expensive. Santana was specializing in structures, and the project also won because of the detail she was directly responsible for planning: the bathroom and kitchen. Being a revolving house, the bathroom and kitchen were mounted in the center of the house. In this way, the bedroom would change places, the balcony would change places, but the pipes would remain properly fixed and centralized.
Santana called everyone a nerd, but she herself was one, no matter how much she posed as a sexy, cool girl. Working as a security guard was rewarding because it was good for her physically and morally. Studying engineering was equally rewarding because it gave her the opportunity to exercise her creativity and problem-solving skills. At that moment, she was attending a class that was almost over. She had a black eye, there were still bruises on her body from the previous night's activities, but everything was fine. She planned to leave the lab, have lunch, and study a little in the library before getting involved with other matters. But the insistent vibration of her cell phone took her focus away. She discreetly glanced at her phone and frowned when she saw dozens of messages from Quinn Fabray.
Quinn Fabray? Santana had no closeness with her, other than the fact that Quinn had been invited by Grant to join the special group, to help her develop her powers. Santana knew the basics about Quinn, she found her extraordinarily beautiful, but not necessarily sexy, she liked Beth and that was basically it. The vigilante decided to check the messages, even though she knew that her professor could send her unfriendly words, which would certainly make her embarrassed in front of her classmates. Immediately, Santana grabbed her things, put them in her backpack, and left the lab.
She drove to the parking lot in front of Stevenson and got into her car. As a precaution, she grabbed the mask from the glove compartment and put it in her coat pocket. She drove as fast as she could toward the community college. She found Rachel and Quinn taking refuge in the outdoor area of the historic building.
"Berry! What the fuck..." Santana recoiled at the sight of Rachel's eyes glowing red, in a way more intense than they had when Rachel had a scene on the park trail. "Oh..."
"I don't know what to do, and she insisted on calling you." Quinn said urgently.
"Santana..." Rachel was out of breath. "I'm not feeling well."
"Berry... try to breathe. Do you remember that day on the trail, when we started walking and you got better?"
"I don't know if that's going to help now." Rachel was shaking.
"Tell me, what are you feeling?"
"Anger... frustration... I feel like exploding too."
Santana looked around, trying to find the safest place for Rachel to explode. She knew that, in that state, it would be too optimistic to think that a walk would appease her.
"Santana, what can we do?" Quinn was also very distressed.
"I don't know."
Santana, on an impulse, hugged Rachel tightly. Using a little more than a tight hug. She could feel Rachel's body vibrating.
"Rachel, concentrate on my body's breathing." She said softly, next to the girl's ear, her body pressed against hers. The more Rachel vibrated, the tighter Santana squeezed her.
"Santana... I'm running out of breath." Rachel complained as Santana squeezed her tighter and tighter.
"It's all right. Just concentrate."
"San..."
Santana squeezed her so hard that Rachel ran out of air and fainted.
"What did you do?" Quinn was desperate when she saw Rachel unconscious as Santana laid her on the grass.
"I've felt Rachel's power before... the first time it manifested." Santana sat next to her collapsed colleague, while watching the other agitated, confused and angry. "She threw me away. I blacked out for a moment on impact. If Rachel doesn't learn to control this, it's going to be a serious problem."
"Why am I only finding out about this now? Why didn't you tell anyone?"
"One, you're new and you don't have my trust yet. Two, Grant knows."
Quinn looked at Santana angrily and the temperature in the room began to cool to the point where the air on Santana's breath began to condense.
"I think you'd better get a grip too, Fabray. You've turned on your air conditioning."
Quinn turned away from the two for a moment and tried to breathe and work on her own powers, controlling her anger.
"What are you thinking of doing?" Quinn asked with more control of her emotions. She had no choice but to confide in Santana, who was much more experienced than her in this matter.
"I don't know how she'll wake up. Just in case, we need to be somewhere safe when it happens."
"Do you know one?"
"The ranch. It's the safest place we have."
"But it's far away."
"How am I going to find a deserted place in the city in broad daylight?"
"Quinn!" The two were interrupted by Joe. "I was looking for you... oh, what happened here?"
"Rachel took ill and fainted." Quinn said urgently, wanting to get her partner away from her. "Santana will take care of her, while I call the nurse, okay?"
"Don't you want any help?" Joe insisted. "We need to elevate her legs to improve circulation. That way she'll come back faster."
"Joe, find the infirmary, please."
He nodded and walked quickly through the emergency room. There was no time to lose. Santana picked Rachel up and ran with her to the parking lot, making Quinn run alongside her.
"Are you sure this is the best plan?" Quinn asked as Santana stowed Rachel's body in the back seat.
"It's the only one I've got. Are you coming?"
"I can't. I can even leave Joe alone for the day, but I have to think about Beth. There's no one to pick her up from school."
"All right. I have to go before your friend comes back with the nurse."
"Please call me."
Santana got into the driver's seat and pulled out of the community college parking lot, leaving Quinn Fabray behind. Traffic at that hour, close to noon, was heavier with people leaving work to get something to eat near work, or traveling for some other reason. Santana was in a hurry because she didn't know what could happen. Rachel could wake up fine, or she could wake up and literally explode. Unfortunately, the ranch was far away, the traffic wasn't cooperating, and there was no known safe place. Another place that crossed her mind was the river pipe that ran into a city canal, used to prevent flooding. In her anguish, Santana opted for plan B, because the pipes and the canal were only dangerous in the rain, which wasn't the case that particular day.
"What..." Rachel woke up. "What's going on?"
"Hi Berry." Santana looked back quickly. "You passed out for a while, and I was taking you somewhere safe, in case you wanted to explode, or whatever."
"I don't feel well... I'm nauseous."
"Okay, my car is old, but you don't have to throw up in it." Santana pulled the vehicle over near the canal, on a little-traveled street of small buildings that housed modest service businesses and residences. "You can get out of the car and throw up if you want."
Rachel jumped out of the car and ran toward an alley. She threw up next to the trash can. Santana approached cautiously, unsure of the level of danger Rachel could pose to herself, Santana, or anyone else nearby. The security guard put her hand on the singer's shoulder just to show some solidarity.
"Relax, okay? I'm going to buy a bottle of water somewhere. I'll go as fast as I can. Okay?"
Rachel nodded and Santana ran down the block and into a small market that was one lot before the corner of that block. The coins she had in her pocket were only enough for a 300 ml glass of mineral water. She paid and headed back toward the alley where Rachel was. However, before she could enter the space in the middle of the block, she was surprised by an explosion that was able to throw her body backwards. The shock wave caused the windows of the two stores next door to shatter, as well as the window of the car that was parked immediately in front of the alley. The shock wave startled the drivers who were passing by on the avenue at that time, causing three cars to crash. The scene was terrifying. Santana got up and ran into the alley. She saw Rachel passed out on the ground.
"Berry?" Santana approached cautiously, but Rachel was not conscious.
Then she grabbed the mask from her jacket pocket and put it on. She ran first toward the traffic victims. She had no training in rescue, except for the basics of CPR that her father had once taught her. Even so, she checked the three crashed cars to see if there were any serious victims. In the first vehicle she checked, there was a middle-aged man who was fine, despite being confused. In the second car, there was a woman and a child of about seven years old in the back seat. The child seemed fine, but the mother was bleeding and unconscious.
"Ma'am? Ma'am?" the guard asked even though she could hear the child crying, but the woman did not respond. She then realized that the woman was not breathing. On instinct, the vigilante took the woman's seatbelt off, pulled her out of the car and laid her on the asphalt. She hoped that the basics she knew would be enough in the circumstances.
"What happened?" A man approached.
"This woman had respiratory arrest."
"You'll do better CPR if you take your mask off."
"Are you a doctor?"
"No, but..."
"Do you know CPR?"
"Yes, I do."
"Please assume."
The vigilante moved on to the third and final crashed car, but as for this one, the driver was already getting out of the vehicle, albeit dazed by the sudden shockwave that had hit him.
"Sir, are you all right?" The vigilante supported him before the driver fell, and helped him to sit down on the asphalt.
"What happened?"
"I have no idea." The vigilante lied and looked around. A few people were approaching, obviating the need for her to remain there. "Someone, help this man."
Santana shouted at the people who were approaching and ran towards one of the buildings whose windows had been shattered. On the right side was a diner, and on the left side was a laundromat. Apparently, the laundromat was empty at the time of the explosion, so the vigilante ran to the diner, where people still seemed dazed by the impact of the shock wave. Some of them were showing signs of deafness. A woman screamed because the drinks fridge had fallen on top of her. A man tried to help her, but he didn't have the strength to overcome the weight of the machine without hurting the woman even more. The vigilante approached and quickly assessed the situation.
"On three, you pull her out." She said to the man.
"What? How?"
"I said, on three, you pull her out." The vigilante said more emphatically, and the man held the woman's hands.
The man was impressed when that clearly female body lifted the beverage cooler in a way that no human could. He pulled the woman out of the machine area, who was left on the ground again by that masked person. Santana looked around once more. Outside, the first paramedics were approaching to help the injured. Inside the diner, people surrounded her with curiosity, admiration, and even a certain degree of distrust for that character who supposedly marked the local news. Santana was about to run out of there. She needed to quickly pass through the alley, grab Rachel Berry and escape from that place, until a detail caught her attention.
"How long has that crack been there?" She asked no one in particular.
"I don't remember there being a crack there." The same man who had helped her with the trapped woman answered her question.
"If that crack happened now, it could mean that the stability of the building is at risk." The vigilante warned. "We need to get everyone out of this building. It's not safe here, get out! The paramedics will help you."
"What are you going to do?" The man asked.
"Get everyone out of this building, even if I have to break down the doors."
"I'll help you. I know the neighborhood."
"Okay."
The vigilante and the man ran up the stairs, starting from the top floor. There were two apartments per floor, which made their job a little easier. There was no one on the top floor, so they ran to the second floor, where a woman lived with a child in one of the apartments.
"The building can collapse any minute, please leave." The vigilante ordered.
"Get out!" The woman shouted in desperation, thinking she was being robbed.
"Didn't you hear the explosion? This building is unstable." The words, coincidentally, were followed by a small tremor.
"Lilly, the vigilante is telling the truth." The man reinforced the warning. "We need to leave until the fire department says it's safe to come back."
The woman looked at the familiar face and gave in. She picked up the three-year-old child and went downstairs. On the first floor, the two apartments had locked doors, but both residents were still in the house. The first one didn't want to open the door and threatened to shoot. The second one screamed for help.
"Try to convince the guy to leave." The vigilante asked as she kicked down the door to the second apartment.
She found the place full of broken glass and an elderly woman lying on the floor. A large piece of glass had stuck in her leg.
"Ma'am, I'm going to pick you up and we're going to get out of here, okay?"
The elderly woman just nodded, showing fear and that she had no choice. The vigilante picked her up and walked past the man who was still insisting on convincing the man to leave.
"If he is really armed, it won't be worth the risk without the proper protection. Leave him to the firefighters." The vigilante said pragmatically. Santana had learned when it was possible and when not to help someone.
The man hesitated for a moment, but finally agreed, going down the stairs with the vigilante who was carrying the elderly woman in her arms. Like in a movie scene, as soon as they reached the sidewalk, part of the building's facade gave way, hitting one of the firefighters. Santana put the elderly woman on the ground, next to a paramedic, and ran with another firefighter to help the unfortunate rescuer.
"We need help..."
The firefighter started shouting and was immediately struck dumb when he clearly saw a woman wearing a ninja mask picking up the heavy debris and throwing it aside. The man under the rubble was quickly freed by the action of a single person, but the damage to his body was visible. The vigilante didn't approach the fallen firefighter, but watched from a safe distance as her colleagues took action.
"How?" The paramedic asked as he began attending to the man just freed from the rubble.
"Just do your job, okay." The vigilante thought about running, but stopped for a moment. "There's a man on the first floor who didn't want to leave the building."
"Okay."
The vigilante took another look at the chaos. Traumatized, injured, confused, and curious people were mixed in with the paramedics and firefighters who were arriving. Now it was up to the first responders. The vigilante wanted to run back toward the alley, but she saw Rachel Berry on the sidewalk, her hands over her mouth, as if she were holding back the urge to vomit. She walked over to her friend and said discreetly.
"Walk to the canal bridge and meet me there." Santana said and walked on, aware that there were cell phone cameras pointing in her direction.
Santana ran away from the scene of chaos. When she found a safe place, she took off her jacket and mask. Her pants were covered in dust from the rubble, but there wasn't much she could do about that other than patting the fabric to get some of the dirt off. She was worried about the fate of the people involved in the explosion, but she was even more worried about the person who had caused all the trouble. The walk to the bridge was longer out of necessity. Still, Santana tried not to waste time by running most of the way around the affected block. When she managed to do so, she saw the sirens of paramedics, firefighters, and police in the distance. Traffic in the area was completely paralyzed, including on the bridge. Santana walked toward the structure, through the pedestrian walkway. She didn't see Rachel, and for a moment she was uneasy about her troubled friend. She looked down the bridge and saw the young woman near the edge of the canal. Santana went to her friend, fearing that Rachel would do something stupid or even explode again.
"Hey!" Santana said loudly in her friend's direction, not worrying about the volume of her voice, since the noise pollution around her was significant.
"Stay away!" Rachel shouted back.
"Are you feeling your power manifest again?"
"No!"
Santana took more steps towards Rachel until she caught up with her. She took Rachel by the shoulders and studied her for a moment. Her eyes were normal, but the young woman's face was wet with tears.
"What have I done?" Rachel leaned her face on her friend's shoulder in search of consolation. Santana had a thin body, she wasn't much taller, she didn't have the same comfort as Finn's body.
"It'll pass." Santana put her vigilante pragmatism aside for a second to comfort a colleague she didn't even like very much, but who, at that moment, was all Rachel had.
Santana held Rachel until she calmed down, until the crying subsided. Only then did she break the embrace and look for her cell phone.
"I'm asking a friend for help, since I can't get my car for now." Santana explained to Rachel as she dialed. "Hey..." She took two steps away from Rachel to speak into the phone. "I know... yeah... she did it... I'm not hurt, I'm just tired... I know, but before all that I need a favor. Berry needs help and a support center... yes, I know... things are under control for now... okay... I know… see you." Santana hung up the phone and looked at her anxious colleague. "A friend of mine is going to help us. He'll pick us up on the other side of the canal and take you home."
"I don't want to go home." Rachel said, her voice frail.
"You can go to your father's house if you want."
"Why can't I stay with you?"
"Because my dormitory isn't comfortable for three people. Someone will sleep on the floor and it won't be me." Santana sighed in frustration. "Look, I'm exhausted, Berry. My shoulders are killing me, my hands are skinned, my legs are shaking. Yesterday a gang gave me this black eye and I was shot. I know I'll be fine in a day or two. But right now, I need a shower, and my bed! I need desperately to rest."
"It's all my fault..."
"Berry, I don't blame you for not controlling your power. Everything is still too new for you. I promise you we'll take care of it, but right now going home and staying quiet is the best we can do." Santana paused briefly and said with a softened voice. "I know we can't stay like this, I know you need to learn to control yourself. But it won't happen overnight, Berry. We need to cool off and organize a plan."
From Rachel's perspective, things happened with a different sense of time. One moment, she was having an anxiety attack ion the presence of Quinn Fabray, the friendly and pretty barista at the community college coffee stand. She remembers Santana coming over to where they were, and everything went haywire. Rachel remembers waking up in Santana Lopez's car. For a moment, she thought she was being kidnapped. Then the nausea set in, she jumped out of the car and vomited. Rachel honestly barely noticed Santana's presence. She remembers the landscape of the alley, the street, the slow movement of people coming and going who completely ignored her. It was a scene close to what she saw when Hunter, or whoever he was, grabbed her, beat her, and raped her in the most cruel way. The vision came to her, and Rachel tried to push it all away instinctively. That was when she felt an intense burning in the pit of her stomach, like an acute attack of an ulcer with gallbladder colic. Then the pain radiated to her arms and throat. That's when she heard an intense boom inside her ear.
Rachel passed out for a moment. The first thing she noticed when she woke up again was the annoying ringing in her ears, like when a plane starts to descend, and the unaccustomed ear suffers from the pressure. Little by little, the ringing was replaced by the sounds of the outside environment. Rachel was no longer feeling anything, no pain, no burning. It was as if the physical anguish she had felt for weeks had finally eased. She got up and walked a little unsteadily out of that area and came across a terrible scene. Firefighters and first responders were attending to several people on the streets and sidewalks. She saw the vigilante carrying an elderly woman in her arms and leaving her on the ground next to a rescuer. Then the facade of one of the buildings collapsed and hit a man. The vigilante ran and removed the debris and left the rescued man to be treated by specialists. It was all very hectic and confusing, but what was very clear to Rachel was that she was somehow responsible for the tragedy. She needed help, and unfortunately, she needed Santana Lopez.
Rachel followed the vigilante to a point on the road beyond the canal bridge. A luxury SUV flashed its lights at them and pulled up next to them. The window rolled down and Rachel could see a handsome man, slim but strong, with short dark brown hair and blue eyes. He was wearing a suit and tie, which seemed rather odd.
"Quite a mess you've made." The young man opened the car door.
Santana opened the back seat door for Rachel to get in and then took the passenger seat next to the elegant driver.
"Berry, this is Grant Fish. Grant, this is the my current stone in my shoe."
"Fish? What do you mean from the law firm?" Rachel was impressed.
"That's me." Grant tried to sound friendly. "I'd shake your hand, but I'm driving."
"Berry, Grant is a friend I trust with my secret. We'll drop you off at home or wherever else you want." Santana explained.
"Okay." Rachel said without much thought. The truth was that she was absurdly tired, and they had barely arrived in the middle of the afternoon. Santana was right on one point: nothing could be resolved in the heat of events.