Spectre

01 - The One and Only

She took the first swing, after finding out that she had that ability. The first, and then the next, never looking down and gasping every time her stomach flipped when she flew into the air.

There was little that could be compared to web slinging, watching woven threads of soul and magic stick to a billboard, and then a building, giving her the exhilaration of reaching the clouds and birds.

She was free.

She feared heights like no other, feared the collapse that would come of her falling from the edge of stairs, railing, a cliff; a fear that manifested into something akin to terrific freedom. She swung sloppily from one building to the next, laughing in awe and stumbling after time she landed on her feet. Again she tried to land right and tripped onto her ass, inhaling sharply from the pain that rolled up her spine. 

Still, she didn't let it stop her, deciding to get back up and swing some more.

Was this what Hobie felt like when he got his powers? Did he feel a rush of freedom that their childhood didn't grant them? Did he whoop for joy as she did as she swung her body into the air? 

This time she fell on her hands and knees, feeling the scrape on her palms and the ache in her legs. The sensations of feeling anything could only be described as cathartic. After feeling nothing for over a week, the fact that she could feel everything and more left her in nothing short of elation. 

And then she saw it. Her reflection. 

A visage of her that she's always dreamed of. It was real. She ...she was real. If she was dying, then she never wanted to wake up.

...

The only nightmare to this dream lay in a hospital bed, with curls that were hers and a face contorted in pain that she also claimed. The dream that gave her the impression of peace and freedom ended, leaving a harsh reality before her.

The joy that swelled inside of her began to die out to the shadows of truth that she couldn't accept, and the weight of reality bore down upon her shoulders like cinder blocks digging into her skin. 

She slipped into the shadows of another before she could be caught, tears spilling into nothingness as she fled the hospital room. She raced to relive the temporary freedom she felt, but it disappeared.

Dreams and nightmares intertwined, and reality gripped its claws around her throat and head, forcing her to face the ugly truth.

Hobie was dead.

She should be dead.

...Yet...yet she lives 

-

She has to stop putting herself in awkward situations.

She hid in the silhouette of a crook with three counts of aggravated assault and five counts of robbery. He's a slippery fucker, but after a few days of tracking him down, she finally found a way to follow him.

It's a nifty trick of hers - hiding in the shadows of others. She can't harm or control anyone, but she moves along with them, using them to hide herself amongst the populace when she has to be more covert than normal. 

How is that possible? She's not in her body right now. 

The crook snuck his way into an apartment that absolutely didn't look like it belonged to him, which led her to finally stop hiding from him, smirking under her mask as she flicked the lights off to blind him.

"Who the hell-!"

"You know, you're a difficult guy to pin down."

She didn't hesitate to extend her hands, shooting his hands with her web and sticking him to the wall.