The Things We Do (Under Editing)

Forged in Flames

You know those superhero movies where the protagonist inevitably ends up perched majestically on the edge of a rooftop, staring heroically into the night? Well, the movies don't show just how windy, cold, and often, very, very wet it can be. Maybe my problem was that I was missing the "majestic" and "heroic" parts, but I doubt it.

I pulled my coat close around me, fending off the weather as I surveyed the street far beneath me. Axon, the busiest street in Lenoir, ran straight down the center of the city, connecting both sides with City Hall in the center. 

On this particular night, the drivers on West Axon were in for a surprise. The morning had been well spent... in the sewers. I'd walked a portion of the street from beneath, securing a couple of small explosives to the bottom of various manhole covers. With any luck, they'd cause a few crashes, a few bigger explosions, and a few trips to the hospital before ultimately being smothered by the rain.

The minutes ticked by as I waited for a prime target. In a city like this, though, it wasn't long before I found one. Four stories below, a bus drifted almost soundlessly through the night traffic, carrying its sleepy passengers along. 

It was time for a wakeup call. 

Fingers straying lightly across the switch of my detonator, I watched, eyes locked on the front wheels. I counted manhole covers as the tires rolled over them, waiting until they clipped the edge of the one that would mark the center of the mayhem. 

Now. 

I hit the button and the earth exploded opening the way to Hell. Three parked cars burst into flame. One flipped sideways, missing the bus by a hair. The bus itself spun as the initial blast forced the front end to slide sideways. All thoughts of sleep vanished from drowsy minds as the passengers were jolted around, panic overwhelming their foggy minds. Around them, fire spilled onto the road from underground. Mayhem was imminent. 

Somehow, the bus managed to stop upright and people began to flood off, searching for the closest path out of the flames. That was my cue. I stepped forward, climbing onto the short wall that surrounded the roof and forcing my shoulders back. Hopefully I looked tall and proud, lit from below by the flames, instead of like the drowned rat that I felt like. 

Sirens wailed and people screamed, but I watched as if I were indifferent, or perhaps enjoying the moment. This time, I would be seen. I had to make sure of that. It took a moment, but the spectators followed my unspoken request. Finally, they looked up. Fingers and cameras pointed my way. 

Good. 

As the people got their evidence, the lights and sirens reached the foot of my building, blue lights disrupting my dramatic orange glow. Guns were drawn and aimed my way. 

Not so good... Time for me to go.

I spun on my heel and jumped onto the flat surface of the room, sprinting to the other side and easily jumping the alley to the next building. Sadly, I couldn't jump the street beyond, so I slipped down the fire escape, through some empty apartments, and around a few more buildings. Hopefully I could make my tracks hard to follow. My path lead me down another side alley, lit only by a single wall light by the back door of a bar. Escape was at hand.

"Stop!"

Or not. Detective pretty-boy had arrived.

I obeyed, halting. I didn't have a choice, really, he was blocking the alley ahead of me. "Sorry, hun." I smiled despite the fact that he couldn't see my face. "I've got places to be and things to do."

Behind the detective, the headlights of a car flashed on, illuminating him from behind. "The only place you need to be is a cozy little cell. There's a nice one waiting for you."

I cocked my head to one side, pretending to think. "Hm... As much as I admire your dramatic flair," I gestured at his car, "I'm thinking, no."

"Cut the crap. You're coming with me."

"After what you pulled last time? If you want me to come willingly, you should start by apologizing, maybe add some chocolates and flowers."

His eyes cast a withering glare. "I'm arresting you, not courting you."

I pouted. "Shame"

As I turned away, I heard the unmistakable click of the safety switch on a gun. "Now, hun, what did I say about guns?"

"I don't care what the heck you said. I WILL use my gun if you force my hand." The words gained a bit more force when he placed the weapon against the back of my head. I grinned. Perfect.

"You should really be careful where you put that." In one swift movement, I ripped the gun from his hand and socked him in the gut. I reached for my sonic, and froze. It was still sitting on my bed, disassembled. 

Not good... again. 

He took the chance to throw me backward into a wall. I hit hard and winced. That would hurt tomorrow. Forward and back we danced, trading and dodging blows. Then, I heard shouting from the main street. We had been spotted. 

Thinking fast, I slammed my hands on the back of his head, pulling it down, and brought my knee up. I was greeted with a crunch and fountain of blood from his nose. For good measure I spun, long coat swinging around me, and swept him off his feet. Left with no other choice, I bolted. He'd have to complain about the footprints on his car the next time we met.