Era

2

Era’s apartment wasn’t… ideal. This probably had something to do with the fact that it: a) was on the bad side of the city, b) hadn’t been properly furnished since she’d arrived and had zero amenities, although the plus to this was that the rent was practically nonexistent which might have had something to do with c) it technically didn’t exist.

Squatter was an ugly word. Era preferred opportunist, although honestly that one wasn’t much better. It didn’t make her a bad person though, she was pretty sure. This part of the complex had burned down months ago, and it wasn’t her fault that the owners had decided it wasn’t worth the money to renovate. Or to check and see if there were any teenagers living in it, she guessed. Although knowing her luck they had it slotted for demolition next Thursday. Era slumped onto her bed—really just a mattress haphazardly thrown into a corner—and groaned into her pillow. What a meeting of disasters, last night had been.

She had been stupid, a fact which she wasted no time fixating on throughout the entire morning as her injuries slowly faded away to pale scars against her skin. She’d known she was being tailed, and yet she’d gone out anyway. She’d seen the hero following her, and yet she’d intervened with that brawl. And then, instead of finding a place to hide, to blend with a crowd and disappear, she’d fled across the rooftops. From an underground hero.

Very stupid.

It was times like this that Era might wonder how she was still alive, although that question had already been answered for her time and time again with a varying degree of good humor. She wished her quirk wasn’t so fickle, though, as her stomach growled for the third time that minute. And she wished that she’d thought to grab some food while she was out, but no. Stupid, again. And now she’d placed herself under a self-imposed house arrest to prevent her from doing anything stupider, so of course she couldn’t get herself anything to eat.

If there was a hero on her trail, a real hero, she would need to be far more careful. This wasn’t a game, and treating it like one was an inexcusable lapse of judgement that came from letting the rush of freedom get to her too easily. That was fine for the first hour, maybe, but now it was beneath her. She’d been free for about two months, by her count. That was enough time. Era needed to get over it, banish the intolerable weakness that was phantom pains and lingering shadows and the ghost of metal chafing at her wrists, and get her act together.

The problem was that there wasn’t really an act at all—it was mostly just half-baked nothings, flitting ideas that she managed to cobble together into something that was barely legible, if you squinted. Being a vigilante had a few benefits, but it was starting to become more trouble than it was worth. She was already running, and she really didn’t need more hunters. Yes, there was the recognition, the potential for someone noticing if she disappeared, and of course being able to operate with a mask most of the time was nice. And… well Era would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy beating the shit out of a mugger or two.

But it wasn’t sustainable. She needed something better, something high-profile but without so much risk. Era groaned into her pillow again, because fuck this was that god damn stupidity rearing its ugly head again.

She needed UA.

No, you don’t.

It made sense. There were logical reasons. The security, the potential to get a license, the possible information she could gather, the presence of heroes at all times—

Yeah, that last one was a little sticky. Because yes, that meant people would have a harder time getting to her, but…

Obviously there were problems, with that last one.

Era narrowed her eyes, dragging her battered laptop over and flipping through her files once more.

What made it all the worse was that she knew it wasn’t all logical. Deep inside, there was a little voice that had miraculously avoided being crushed to death, and it kept whispering thoughts that were frankly absurd. You could make up for it, every little thing you’ve ever done, save enough lives to finally clean the red from your hands.