Daisy isn't a Superhero

Nightmare on Elm St.

Sirius Dracul leaned against an oak tree in the backyard of 314 Elm Street. One hand was in the pocket of his black trench coat, the other was holding a phone.

"Yes of course there was a tracker in the tea," he was saying, "don't be fucking stupid, Kane, just get over here, I need eyes, stat."

There was a muffled sound over the phone and then Sirius hung up.

His cold eyes gleamed in the light of the moon; he looked around the yard measuredly. Then, like a cat, he swung up into the tree and soundlessly reached the window on the 2nd floor.

It was open, and there on the floor was the girl he was looking for. She was snoring and a snail trail of drool connected her mouth to the carpet.

Sirius shuddered, he really hated kids.

With a snort, the girl's eyes flew open and Sirius ducked away and pressed himself against the side of the house.

He could just barely still see her from the side of the window. For a moment she lay there with her damp hair spread out and her pale face looking stunned.

Then with a groan, she made as if to get up.

She did not get up.

Instead, with a sound like a deflated balloon, she made a half reach towards an open bottle of ibuprofen laying on the floor about 2 feet away from her.

Then she fell back asleep.

Sirius frowned and tapped his lip. He was uneasy because he didn't know her tells and limits yet. He knew she was abnormally strong and could make herself invisible but he couldn't figure out the catch. She was also very creative and quick on her feet when she fought; the kind of thing GHA academies don't teach you.

Sirius grunted. Fucking GHA didn't teach its heroes anything. Their so-called training was 3 days of hippy summer camp before they threw you into the fray. There was a reason many people left after training and chose to be inducted into secure facilities for the gifted.

If you had a gift, those were your only two options according to the law, either you work as a hero under the supervision of GHA, or you get admitted to a secure facility and never leave for the rest of your life.

People like Sirius were the third option. They didn't ask for freedom or equality, instead, they rose to the top like the apex predators they were. Quietly and in the shadows, they gathered strength and waited for the right time to strike.

Achoo!

Sirius jumped and nearly fell out of the tree. He regained his footing and glared at the girl in the window. She was still out cold, but now, apparently, she was sneezing.

Fucker.

With a sigh, Sirius slipped into the open window and stepped over the lump on the floor. He carefully took a blanket from the end of her bed and draped it over her.

She didn't move.

Sirius couldn't help himself, he took the ibuprofen bottle and found the top. Then he placed it neatly on her dresser.

A grin of satisfaction curled on his thin lips and he slipped back out the window like a Cheshire cat.

"Hey, Kane," he hissed, whistling sharply as a shadowy figure snuck around the corner of the house.

The shadowy figure ran lightly across the lawn and climbed up the tree noiselessly.

He was a tall blonde with features like a roughed-up version of Leonardo Dicaprio. He was wearing a dark grey t-shirt and black cargo pants. At first glance, he looked more like an Abercrombie model than a villain, but upon closer inspection, his boots were more functional than aesthetic. His hands were wrapped in clean white wraps with skulls on them. You wouldn't see them unless his sleeves came up.