wounded at my doorstep

C1 | Unedited

Rowan never planned on attending a gala in the winter of Chicago. It had literally fallen onto him. The letter he had received almost a week ago had been left on his table. The window was and snow was piling on his couch.

He'd cursed the anonymous messenger for that. But now, here he was—a suit and all, leaning on a pillar and sipping his champagne peacefully. Bodies slithered in and out of the soft and glowing lights, voices whispered and flowed slowly through his ears.

Rowan set down the champagne and pushed it away from himself for extra conviction. He couldn't afford to dull his thoughts.

His hand trailed down to his pocket, his sternum hid a microphone. Today, he was an intern at the gala. Tonight, he'd be Parallel.

He felt a soft hand settle on his shoulder, but he didn't turn. "You made it," a round old man commented unnecessarily. Rowan smiled, his eyes sparkled purposefully.

"Yes, I did it for the experience, you know?" He responded, nodding towards the governor. The large man was standing on the balcony, deep in conversation with another man. Gestures flew wildly and Rowan could only guess which topic they were discussing.

"Forgive the governor," the man quickly said as he followed Rowan's gaze. "I'm sure whoever he's speaking to has urgent priorities."

Rowan turned and patted the man's back, "Turner, I've got all the time in the world."

He had caught a glimpse of the governor today–the corrupt man in which he sought to bring down.

He turned foot and exited the mansion.

Sighing, he leaned back into the seat. His door was ajar and the sounds of cheerful laughter clamored into his ears. He groaned, he had been getting dizzy in a banquet full of privileged socialites. Sometimes, Rowan hated his internship with politicians.

He'd learned nothing from the gala, it was an entire waste of time. Sleep that he could never get back.

The keys jingles as Rowan opened his apartment door, immediately, a bottle of coke flew past him and hit the wall. He picked it up.

"Close the door, it's freezing outside!" A voice came from the further bedroom. Rowan smiled lightly and stepped inside. A head poked out from his bedroom. The boy had blonde hair.

"You dyed your hair again, William?" Rowan rolled his eyes. "You know that's unhealthy, right?"

"Says who?" William retorted. "For all I know, you're reading off of some bullshit website. And I meant for you to be outside when you shut the door."

Rowan and shrugged and set his bags down. He began to take off his dress shirt. "Bullshit or not, better safe than sorry. And I can't help that this is my apartment."

William snorted, "You're hardly ever here anymore."

Rowan ignored him and poured a glass of water. "You get that suit done for me yet?"

William smiled, Rowan thought he looked dumb. "Yeah, it took some time but the recoil and energy gathering on the soles of the boots work now."

Rowan grinned, "It's ready, right?"

Rowan's dark hair buffeted in the wind. After donning the Parallel alias for last night, he was absolutely drained. He walked down the streets of Chicago towards the campaign office, grabbing a newspaper along the way.

It read: Villain Dubbed Starling Terrorizes Streets. With a blurry picture encapsulated to the right of the caption, Rowan could only guess who this new name was.