The Slip-Up

Chapter 2

Nova's POV

The overwelming scent of dust and mold cloud my vision as I carefully rinse my hands off under the tap, gingerly bandaging them in soft cotton.

After the speeches were over I left without as much as a goodbye.

My teamates stared at me for any sort of reaction, but I tried my best to stay calm and collected.

Calm and collected and no one would know.

Calm and collected and no one would care.

Calm and collected and no one would ask.

I almost smile when I recall the way Frostbite looked like she was going to swallow the microphone whole, but I stop when I recall her promise.

The promise everybody has been trying to keep these days.

To kill me.

To kill Nightmare.

To them i'm just a normal girl.

With a semi-average life.

That they know nothing about.

And they don't want to know about.

Yet...

I pull back from the sink, my hands land on my holster as I hear the back door open.

I relax when I hear the familiar voices of Leroy and Honey.

Calm and collected.

I turn myself around and I gently place myself onto the counter, while casually hiding my hands under my knees.

Not that they care or anything.

Not like I wish they cared or anything.

Honey gracefully walks into the kitchen carrying 2 large paper bags, wearing a black ski mask that folds over the top of her golden curls.

"Oh Nova honey, I wasn't expecting you to be home this early, but since you are can you give me a hand?" Honey asks, while taking off her ski mask and patting down her curls.

"I guess," I reply, swifly getting off the counter, and taking a grocery bag from her.

There wasn't much food to put away, mostly just some bread and crackers, and some weird orange stuff, which is probably some illegal substance, but at least it was something.

Probably not better than nothing, but it was something.

"Ok I am so done with this!" Honey screeches while opening the fridge door, "I am so tired of this moldy mess! I should be living like a queen, and not some random peasent!" She adds.

I roll my eyes, I wasn't exactly happy with this outcome either, and I bet my left foot, that the other anarchists weren't either.

Well maybe except Winston.

He has been living like a Renegade since the neutralizations, 3 meals a day, hot water, AC.

It's not right though.

Being forced to give up your powers, and then praised for it?

Yeah, no thanks.

I offer Cyanide a thumbs up and a quick good luck before leaving the house, and making my way to HQ.

The streets on Wallowridge are cold and eery, almost abandonned.

I feel the cold breeze nip at my exposed finger tips, but I ignore it, hiding them away in the warmth that filled my jacket pockets.