Daisy isn't a Superhero

Picking Fights with People You're Not Ready For

It happened at the traffic light on 27th and 49th.

He was standing in front of the corner shop with his back turned, flipping through magazines.

I was at the curb across from him. I glared viciously at his back despite being terrified.

The sun could be seen sinking down an alley just beyond the corner shop, casting deep shadows between two ratty apartment buildings.

Two girls passed my target and turned to go into the alley. He half-turned and seemed to be sniffing the air as they walked between the buildings.

Then, he put down his magazine and straightened his overcoat.

Blood pounded in my ears as I sized him up from across the street.

He was tall and broad, standing a little slouched as if he were afraid to stand at his full height. I couldn't see much from where he was standing, but his general outline made me shiver. I could just barely see the rows of horns and spikes running up his neck from under his overcoat.

I glanced at the traffic light, it blinked yellow and I stepped down from the curb, tensed like a runner about to push off the block.

The last thought that ran through my head under the yellow light was Why does it have to be like this?

There was a tiny click as the light turned red and a path cleared between the cars.

My feet pounded under me as I closed in on him.

Suddenly he turned and locked eyes with me. The two black holes stared blankly at the scrappy 17-year-old girl hurtling towards him.

I braced myself, head down, arms in, swinging from the hips.

The impact went right through my fist and made my teeth rattle- but something wasn't right.

"What the hell is your problem, kid?"

I looked up and then gasped in sheer pain as he twisted my wrist so tightly he might have snapped it clean off my arm.

So much for the element of surprise.

I clenched my teeth and slammed my foot into his ankle. His grip loosened in surprise and I yanked my wrist free.

"You think no one can see you," I spat out, "but I see you."

Then I made my next mistake, I went on the offensive. I drained strength- as much as I could- from my future self. I would have 10 minutes if I was careful.

I was not careful.

Those vacant eyes made my stomach curl up in knots and cold sweat broke out on my forehead. I wanted to run and hide but I had to stop him and the only thing I could to make myself stay was lash out viciously.

I ducked under his swing and sidestepped to throw a sharp hook at his exposed right ear.

He howled in pain as his ear split open and his spiked fists bashed against my forearms, bloodying them in an instant.

He stepped back for a moment to gather himself up and I went low, crouching under his arms and risking my defense to throw an uppercut straight to his chin.

I missed.

My fist slammed into his collarbone, taking the skin off my knuckles from the ridge of spikes protruding from his leathery skin.

I tried not to panic in the split second that I stood between his arms and body like a rodent about to be squeezed to death by a python.

Within an instant, his arms were locked around my chest and a sharp crack caused an explosion of pain and white spots dotted my vision.