Heroic Villian

Chapter 1

Avalon

It's official.  Disney has turned me into a deadly ninja.

    "Let's get down to business," I hum along to my blaring headphones. Adrenaline buzzing through me as I run along one of the many Central Park's paths, my backpack thumping against my back. My heart pounds to the beat of the music while I throw out epic martial arts moves, attempting to ignore the slight throbbing pain in my body. "To defeat the huns!" Double punch. Thrust kick. The walking path this morning was relatively empty, except for one or two people passing by. They send weird looks in my direction as I belt "Tranquil as a forest, but a fire within!" Cartwheel kick. Block.
With a quick glance at my watch, the digital numbers blink 6:20.  Okay, I think, I have an hour till school starts. I can probably do one more routine. While readjusting my black blouse, I think back to the last time I practiced my martial arts routine in the apartment. I had accidentally kicked the punching bag off the wall, which knocked down our door, and nearly killed our neighbor's cat. To put it simply, Cyrus has forbidden me from doing the routines in the apartment, but he still wants me to practice. To quote my adoptive father, "Avalon, our line of work is dangerous. It is good to know how to defend yourself." So until I can find a better place to practice, the Central Park paths will have to do.

A chilled, late summer breeze rushes through the path, ruffling some of the green leaves, and picking some off the ground with a few scattered newspapers that people have neglected to put in the waste basket. Another gush of wind blows by, lifting one of the discarded newspapers, pushing it into my face as I'm halfway through a technique. Blinded, I punch my way into a tree, and crash to the concrete ground. A hiss escapes my lips as I pull myself up, clutching my already bruised shoulder, pulling the newspaper away from my face, and knocking some of my short, chestnut hair out of my face.  From the corner of my eye, I spot a mom pulling her son closer to her, giving me a disgusted look. I send her a weak smile and wave before brushing some dirt off my jeans and walking from the scene, newspaper clutched in hand.

Looking down, I smile at the bold headline of the newspaper: PHANTOM AND SHADOW, STILL AT LARGE. I move my eyes down to the grainy picture of a masked male and female looking back as they run through an open door. The male, Phantom, wears a black trench coat that billows around him, and his metallic skull mask sends a glare back at someone behind the camera. The female, Shadow, on the other hand, wears a black mask and leather jacket with the hood pulled up, a smirk visible as she glares at the camera with playful hazel eyes. While reading the text under the image, I can't help the frustrated sigh that escapes my lips. This writer, like many others in New York, mainly focuses on how even though Golden Griffin, New York's favorite superhero, failed to apprehend two of the city's most notorious villains, he is still flawless in everything he does. It aggravates me that in a city full of superhumans, the media only focuses on their precious superheroes.

Moving my gaze back to the image, a smile spreads across my lips as my eyes lock on Shadow's combat boots. I knew it, I think. My shoe was untied.

    Shaking the thoughts out of my head and folding the newspaper into my pocket, I prepare myself for the chorus, focusing on Li Shang's inspirational song.  "You must be swift as a coursing river!" I belt out while jumping up on one of the park benches, the wood creaking under my sneakers.  "With all the force of a great typhoon!" I leap off the bench in a grand backflip. "With the strength of a raging fire!" I send out a forearm block and a front elbow strike to the air. I pour my heart into the last lyrics, while jumping up into a roundhouse kick, "Mysterious as the dark side of the moon!" I feel my foot collide with something solid before a deep cry of pain, which was not my own, echoes over my blaring headphones.