Nighthawk: A Superhero Story (closed for Siobhancan99)

"Let me explain to you how this works. You run now, you get away. She gets arrested. You don't, I pick her up and put her between me and you and and every one of your fucking light blasts and knives takes her another step closer to death." She didn't wait for them to take her up on the offer. With the chain out of commission, she needed another potential human shield. She lashed out, grabbing for Knives arm to try to get ahold of him while slamming him into a nearby wall.
 
The pale thief flipped backwards out of reach, holding his weapons up in a defensive cross. The woman continued struggling against the chains.

“Sorry, love,” the light manipulator said, his eyes on the female thief, “but I told you the plan was fucked from the get-go.” He glanced at the knife wielder who seemed hesitant. “Time for Plan D.”

The dark-skinned man took off in a sprint, glancing over his shoulder once or twice. After a moment’s more hesitation, the shorter man did the same.
 
She leaned against the wall a moment. With the adrenaline of the fight gone she felt sick. Those three might have killed her. It was her first time really confronting death since Killstreak, and that had been in the fall. She got ahold of herself, not wanting Vapor to know the three had gotten to her. She checked her arm and found she was by and large bleeding into her armor. She considered bringing ammonia along to destroy her dna for next time. Hopefully the blood was little enough nobody would think to look for a sample. She looked down at Vapor, putting back on the bravado which had won her the fight "well. What's in the box?" She stooped, picking it up with her un-stabbed arm."if you tell me I wont leave you hanging from something like a spider man villain. I'll walk you nicely out the front."
 
“Men, am I right?” the dark-haired woman said as they raced off and disappeared around a corner. “At least they weren’t useless in bed.”

She smiled placidly. “It is a rare enzyme with a long, unpronounceable name. All I know is it had something to do with gene therapy. More of a tech girl than a chemicals girl, myself.”

The thief spat a clot of blood onto the ground. “Does that earn me an escort?”
 
MOnia nodded and hoisted the woman. "yeah. Don't suppose you wanna give me a little clue as to who the buyer was? you know. Just between us girls." She looked around, then followed the direction the boys had gone as she made her way, assuming that light would use his swat jacklet. She wasn't entirely sure those guys were making it past the cops though. Maybe. She felt somewhat bad about leaving them live but she reckoned she could have died in there. Also, if word got out she was merciful others might not fight to the death. Could be a bit of a PR win.
 
The woman let out a slight groan of pain as Monica lifted her. Despite her accomplished demeanor, she didn’t look to be past her late twenties. “I’ve learned to not ask. But don’t worry, Nightgirl. They were European. A little out of your jurisdiction, no?”

Before long, a cadre of SWAT team members were pouring into the hallway. The arm and knee of Monica’s mesh weave armor was damp with blood, but it was the burn where the burst of light had hit her shoulder that screamed out for attention the most.
 
Monica left the woman with SWAT, and the box. A lack of name was disappointing, but she couldn't have everything and right now what she needed was to live. She called down the sliver and made her way to an urgent care in a bad part of town. She took a fat wad of cash, and paid for the discretion of the Dr. In addition to getting sewn up and having her burn treated, she took all the implements used and everything that might have her blood and DNA on it. Taking those out to a small field, she burned it all before heading home.

In the morning she felt like shit, and would have skipped work but it was her second day. She barely managed to make it, and with her visible stitching on her arm and bandaged shoulder, she knew she looked a mess. She had a ready story though, she was ubering home from the grocery store and the next thing she knew she was in the hospital "must have been some kind of car accident"
 
Jonah Tompkins, Monica’s Internship Coordinator, expressed shock and disbelief that she’d shown up for work despite the “accident,” urging her to strongly consider going home and taking at least a day off. It took some time to convince him otherwise. Even Dr. Bascombe, her no-nonsense research supervisor, tried to cajole her into leaving, though there was a glint of admiration in his eyes when she committed to staying.

“We have got to be the most badass internship team around,” Nelly said as Monica settled into her desk. “You with your arm and me with my leg all busted up.” She tapped her walking cast.

“Don’t forget my deep emotional scars,” Wendell chimed in, preparing a pair of Airbuds.

Ishani looked over her low cubicle wall at Monica. “You really have to be careful with rideshares.” The curly-haired woman rattled off a score of stats from an article she’d read comparing rideshare drivers to traditional cab drivers in terms of safety rates.

Partly concealed by her own cubicle wall, Nelly shot Monica a smile of commiseration as their coworker listed the data. Wendell had already popped in his devices and was listening to some metal at a volume loud enough for Monica to hear it.
 
Monica almost went home, but she'd done the hard part and gotten out of bed. If she felt like shit tomorrow she'd take a day off. She nodded to Nelly "yeah well. can't keep a good lesbian down right?" She chuckled, face showing more mirth than she felt, and then looked over at Ishani. She wasn't sure if the girl was morose, or on the spectrum or both, but she figured it cost her nothing to tolerate her for a bit. She nodded along "you know it." Then looked over at Wendell. She moved her mouth as if speaking a few times, enough for him to take his earbuds out "you're going to get tinnitus" she nodded "along with your manpain."

Settling in, she reviewed their part in the project, reminding herself to find some flaw she could exploit to keep anyone with this tech from discerning her identity.
 
Nelly grinned. “Dang right.”

Wendell nodded at Monica’s comment, gave her a thumbs up, and then lowered the volume on his device. “Monica,” he said, “we were just talking about all hitting up a barcade on Friday. Do you know a place called Game Dive? It’s not too far from our apartment.” Monica hadn’t heard of the place but knew of a similar establishment closer to campus. “If it’s cringe or anything, let us know. We just Googled it.”

As Monica did her task for the day, helping the team establish some parameters for another upcoming simulation of the device, she started making mental notes about the design. It was certainly a sophisticated technology, but having a full log of some of the problems it’d encountered in recent tests was incredibly valuable. Depending on the workarounds they developed, developing some kind of tech as a countermeasure seemed well within reach given the parts, and she was certain her dad had the requisite bits and pieces lying around somewhere.

During a break, Monica saw her latest outings covered in the news. The trio she had tangled with were a band of internationally infamous thieves and murderers. The leader, Marcela Gama-Paredes, was of Brazilian descent and an infamous hacker who went by the name Vaporware. Cutthroat, or Philipp Brodbeck, was ex-German special forces, while James Thurston, A.K.A. Flashpoint, was from the UK, with no indication as to how he had acquired his strange powers. There had been no sign of the two men since their fight.

As Monica was logging back into her workstation, a text came in:

GABI: Miss you:heart::heart:I’m working Saturday and Sunday this weekend to cover for somebody. I was thinking maybe my dad would let me borrow the car to come see you next weekend???

The bio major had picked up a job working the counter at their local pizza place, Pie Heaven, and had been racking up the hours as of late. It'd been a little over two weeks since they'd last seen each other.
 
Monica groaned. She hurt and she missed Gabi. All she wanted was to be curled up next to her girlfriend. That and bury herself between Gabi's thighs. Mostly just being held though. She rubbed her temples and texted back "Yeah. Sounds good. We have to talk about living arrangements for next year. I have a plan." She set the phone down and stared out the window. She wondered if Gabi would let her just pay for an apartment and food for the next year, with her merch money. She knew the latina worked so much so her parents didn'thave to help, and if her living expenses were covered, between loans and scholarships she'd only really have to work for her fun money. The only question was if she'd let it happen or not. She also thought pretty hard about getting a car. Nothing that would attract attention. A used compact would be fine. Something she could use to go see Gabi whenever she wanted. She fired off another text "Miss you. you at least having any fun up there?" She hoped the girl was at least hanging with zoe or Kayla or hopefully the whole group.

As for the trio, she wouldn't put it past the men to try to bust their boss out of jail but that seemed for now like a cop problem, more than a Monica problem. MOnica problems were for next week. At the earliest.. This week she had therapy.. she thought wednesday. She texted mel to be sure "Hey, how's the cat? we on for tomorrow? it's fine if not. Take care of yourself and your baby." She thought more about flashpoint. Did he represent some kind of experiment? was he a different kind of alien? Her mother had been pretty adamant they hadn't actually found other aliens out there in space. That didn't mean there weren't any.

Bringing herself back to the present she made arrangements to hit the barcade "you know, I haven't been. If it sucks there's another one near campus that's nice. We can uber over. Besides I need to find more places to eat and stuff in this neighborhood. the pizza I had last night was disappointing, thus my failed attempt at grocery shopping."
 
Gabi responded to Monica’s question about her having fun with a picture of her little sister Ana beaming, seated in a fort constructed of branches and other found materials, with her 12-year-old brother Matt standing in front leaning up against it. “We finished the fort today! Ana has already moved like half of her books into the thing lol.”

She sent another pic, this one featuring Gabi and her little sister inside grinning. “Also she thinks I should dye my hair so we match.” The girl had added pink to her shiny dark hair. “Opinions?”

Work went quickly, despite Monica’s less than optimal condition. Her fellow interns were as bright as might be expected of interns at a Fortune 500 Tech Company, and before long, they were almost all lobbing ideas back and forth with Dr. Bascombe. The exception was the Ivy Leaguer, Evan, who seemed a little reticent still.

“Thank you for asking. She seems to be doing a bit better today,” Melanie texted. “She ate a bit. Will see what the vet says. Tomorrow is still good for me. Did you still want to meet me in the office or is it easier to get to my home from where you’re staying? I’m not on campus this summer but I can meet you there if needed.” Monica’s apartment happened to be closer to Melanie’s house than to campus via subway.

Wendell nodded. “Fire. Just so you all know, I’m calling dibs on my boy Dhalsim if they have Street Fighter.”
 
She couldn't help but smile, looking over the pictures "I think an alien replaced your mother. Pink hair? In Sarah's house?" She grinned as she sent the text. She sent another "you're gonna be a good mom, some day. Or cool aunt, depending on what you choose."

She wasn't really sure what to make of Evan. Penn was a good school, but not exactly an engineering powerhouse. Still, it had a good solid science program for the premeds. He didn't seem that sure of himself, for someone that got into an Ivy. She wondered if it was lack of talent or just lack of confidence. Either way, it wasn't to her Centauri senses attractive either way. Maybe he had a sort of "still waters run deep" thing going. She tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Texting Mel she confirmed the house was fine, and she'd see her the next day for sure.
 
By the time Monica left a little after 4:30, it was another stifling day, the intense heat radiating off the concrete canyons and the sunlight reflected off every shiny surface. Cutthroat’s blades had made their way into the muscle and she felt it now, particularly after a day spent holding her arm in roughly the same position. The only consolation was that externally, the wounds looked a little less angry, a product of her Centauri physiology.

Gabi and Monica had FaceTimed for a little while before going to sleep. Despite being tired, Monica tossed and turned off and on. She was just checking the clock to assess the futility of her attempt to pass out when she saw a silenced text come in. It was 11:37 PM.

MELANIE: My house was broken into.
 
Monica groaned and looked at the phone. She hurt, she wanted to sleep. Still, sleep was elusive. She sighed and stared at the text for a solid two minutes, then fired off "I can be over there shortly. Were you home when it happened? Are they still there? Did you call the cops?"

Hitting send she gathered some things up. She might as well stay the night there and call off work tomorrow anyway. THis way she could make mel feel a little safer, have her therapy session and feel not so guilty about skipping work.
 
The professor texted back shortly after.

MEL: I’m fine. I was out when it happened, thankfully. The police are just about to leave.

Monica could see the 3 bubbles indicating Mel was typing. Hesitating a few times, the message arrived a moment later.

MEL: You don’t need to come out here.

Monica's air conditioner let out a guttural groan as it kicked back into gear to keep up with the humidity.
 
She stared at the phone "I'm coming out. You'll sleep better with me on your couch." She gathered up her things, then got an uber over. Taking the sliver was easier, but landing it on Mel's roof wasn't. She closed her eyes in the car, resting for just a second before she got there.
 
MEL: Thank you.

From the exterior, nothing seemed askew in the house. The middle-aged woman opened the door. Her fiery hair was up in a messy bun and her fatigue made her look closer to her actual age than she typically did, but she was still stunning, even dressed down to a pair of jeans and a Prospect University t-shirt. She had smoky makeup around her green eyes and smelled faintly of wine. “Monica. You…really didn’t have to,” she said, the sheer relief in her voice belying the statement.

As Mel stepped aside to let Monica into the house, the disarray was immediately evident, though at least contained to a few areas. Knickknacks and picture frames were strewn across the floor, the contents of a closet seemed to have been vomited up into the hallway in front of it. “They pushed the air conditioner in,” Melanie said matter-of-factly as she led Monica on a tour of the chaos. The AC lay on the floor in front of one of the living room windows, the hardwood floor gouged by its sharp edges.

They walked upstairs. The heat suffused the hallway with a claustrophobic feel. “The good thing is I frankly don’t have much worth stealing.” They passed the bedroom Gabi and Monica had stayed in a few months ago. It had been tossed, but didn’t look too bad.

They arrived at the door to the main bedroom. Dressers were completely emptied, clothing and keepsakes lying in random heaps. “Except for my jewelry box.” Melanie held up a handcrafted cherry box with numerous small compartments. On the bed were a few folded piles of clothes.

Her eyes fell on Monica’s forearm. “What happened there?” For the first time, the professor’s tone shifted from simply tired recitation of the facts to genuine concern.
 
Monica wrestled the AC unit into place "cops coulda helped you with that" she grumbled. Obviously screwing it into place was a next day project, but letting in the disgusting summer heat was not really high on her list of priorities. She turned it on to start to cool the room, then followed Mel upstairs through the trail of destruction. the heat of the house was if Mel had central air she'd have slept like a baby. Of course if she had central air the house wouldn't be broken into, and Monica would still be at home.

"That's a lovely box. Where'd you get it?". She couldn't help but feel that this was somehow connected to the cat being sick. Maybe it was just paranoia. "Did they take anything like old patient notes. New patient notes?" She looked around "I think you should just be sure instead of assuming that they were here for the jewelry box. You live in a pretty swank neighborhood to have this kind of crime. Though it can happen anywhere."

"I was stabbed and shot by some guy that shoots lasers out of his hands. Entirely new for me. Don't be fooled, Professor. Not all new experiences are good ones." She tried to crack a smile "Honestly, 1 star. Would not repeat. I don't recommend it at all." Still, the specter of death hovered in a way it hadn't since Killstreak. She looked down at her arm. "There were three of them. I got one, but the other two I honestly had to let go. Why don't you go look at your old notes and stuff to be sure and then we can either talk about me or crack another bottle of wine and talk about anything that isn't our most recent traumas? either way I'm good."
 
As Monica hefted the air conditioner back into place, Mel responded, “Oh, believe me. One of them wanted to do everything he could to help. I swear, I’m more worried about him coming back than I am the burglars.”

The older woman placed the box on the nightstand beside her bed. “It was my grandmother’s.” She looked around the room as if taking a mental inventory again. “No, I don’t have any notes stored here, and I haven’t practiced for a few years now. They took a tablet and my laptop, but…any notes about your sessions are stored up here.” She pointed toward her forehead.

Mel’s eyes widened. “God, Monica. I’m sorry. Another reason you didn’t have to come all the way out here to console me.” Her eyes lingered on the jewelry box for a moment and she seemed distracted, but then she turned back to the younger woman. “If I remember correctly, Gabi was just talking about celebrating your 20th birthday together, so…how about some tea? They left the kitchen alone.”

Melanie headed back down the stairs. “Paige kept telling me to get central air, but…this place was built in the 1930s. They would have had to tear up the walls to do it.” Smiling ruefully, she added, “but she was right. As usual.”

She pulled a chair out for Monica and pushed aside a strand of red hair pasted to her forehead with sweat. There was a hiss as Melanie opened up the freezer door. “There is half a pint of mint cookie ice cream if you’d prefer that to hot tea.”

It was a little past midnight now.
 
"I definitely prefer it to hot tea." She moved over to the door and stuck her face in the cold air over Mel's shoulder "Ah." She laughed and stepped back, letting the older woman retrieve the ice cream. "as for coming out here, the Nighthawk exists to make the community feel safe. It's not all punching bad guys. Sometimes, it is calling off work when you already wanted to call off work so you can sleep on your friend's couch so she can in turn sleep at all. And yes, Paige was correct. you need central air." She laughed "I'm making good hvac a requirement for my next place." She moved over, sitting at the table, feeling the temperature drop maybe a degree from the humming, huge, window AC unit. Now that she knew her secrets were safe, she felt a little more at ease.

"Turning 20 was cool. Uh. we ... kinda had a threesome? over spring break. It seems weird telling you this because either you know, because Gabi told you, or you don't know because she didn't tell you and now you know that about her which is awkward." She laughed, nervous "It uh. God. I feel like, at once super empowered and sort of trashy. You can take the girl out of Cottersville but you never take Cottersville out of the girl. I guess." She toyed with a coffee cup that was on the nearby counter, shifting it around in her hands. "we were kinda teasing this guy, letting him watch a little then I felt guilty so the next night we let him watch a bit then uh. Well." She shrugged and turned red. "I don't know why I feel two ways about this. I'm 20. Half the girls on tiktok have done seven hundred crazier things than me. I mean I'm supposed to be having some fun and making the kind of stupid but ultimately not very consequential choices that lead to a memorable college experience right? Like what I should feel weird about is dressing like Darth Maul and fighting crime. Instead I'm all at once elated and sort of skeeved by the fact I caught a dick." She sighs and laughs "So I'm still a mess. You should really start charging me money for therapy Mel."

She took a bowl of ice cream gratefully. "I have money and everything. We met this skeevy agent guy in New York that was clearly hoping to get in the middle of us, and he struck out but he got me thinking. I have a law firm pursuing my imaging rights, and its all done through this web of LLC's and i'm not the owner of any of them and I get cash for a portion of it, and the rest goes to women's shelters in the city here. So they have a vested interest in protecting the IP and I never have to really reveal myself, then I have to pay taxes apparently by filling out the forms that drug dealers use if they want to report their income." She shrugged, and ate a little. "So yeah it was an eventful spring."
 
“Ice cream is always the right choice,” Mel said, sitting down and sticking a spoon in the remnants of the pint, condensation visible on the packaging.

She listened to Monica with her usual placid, thoughtful expression, her counselor-grade poker face making it hard to discern what she thought of anything her guest had described. Finally, she spoke. “I just want you to know that anything you tell me and anything Gabi tells me is completely confidential. I haven’t…exactly been adhering to policies I used to follow back in my old counseling days, but that is absolutely sacred to me.”

She smiled and took a spoonful of ice cream. Hilary came into the room and tentatively eyed Monica, then slowly made her way over and rubbed against the leg of Mel’s chair. “Hey there, sweet girl.” She gently stroked the cat’s chin. "It's okay. It's Monica. We like Monica." The cat hopped up on her lap, nearly dipping her tail in her dessert.

“That is certainly a lot,” Mel observed. “I’ll probably have to wait until tomorrow to unpack it with you. But speaking of unpacking…I would suggest the guest bedroom over the couch, but there’s just a standing fan for that room. Are you sure you’ll be comfortable on the couch?”
 
"I'm sorry are you asking if I'll be more comfortable in the room that's 75 degrees? the answer is yes." She laughed and shrugged at Mel "I'll be fine. I have to sleep on my back and keep pretty still anyway, cause of the burn and the cuts."

She waited for Mel to head off, then stripped down to just her boy shorts. She put a sheet down on the couch from the spare bed, then got a sheet in case she got cold later. She stretched her tall body out on the surprisingly comfortable couch. She listened a moment, then closed her eyes. The cool air from the direct AC was a godsend, even if the house was still warmish. She was comfortable enough without the sheet, and within a few minutes her exausted body and mind finally let go and she tumbled into a deep sleep.
 
When Monica awoke, she felt a slight chill, and found the sheet draped over her. White sunlight was spilling in through the drapes, and she could hear the faint sound of Melanie murmuring to her cat coming from the kitchen. It was a little past 7.
 
Monica fumbled around for a shirt and winced as she painfully drew it on. She inhaled, then exhaled, feeling the irritation from the burn. She tugged on her jeans and wandered into the kitchen, looking down at Mel's cat. "need any help putting things back together?"
 
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