Damsel[ed]: Some Rescue Required (#2 of the Damsel[ed] series)

Chapter Forty-Nine: Donuts, Anyone?

Thirteen Years Ago...

Nebula blinked against the spring wind, the night air cool and damp against her skin. She stood in the puddles of an early April shower. The sky was heavy with stars, and an eerie darkness swam through the gardens. The oil smothered her purple pansies and drowned the roots of Cecil's rosebushes. The little green plant lay collapsed on its side, leaves splinted and shiny with Fallout's residue. 

Nebula and the rest of the superheroes had spent hours toiling on the rooftop gardens. It was their civic duty to pitch into the Heroes Keep Starlight Green campaign. Now the air smelled of sulfur and Jupiter was missing. Cecil paced, back and forth, back and forth. Restless and fidgety, his white gloves dripping with grease. Nebula watched him. Lately, she hadn't been able to stop.

She stood on the flower boxes, staring as Luna nursed her fluffy white wings. The beautiful hero that always made Nebula's heart skip beats combed oil off her wings with a fork. Nebula guessed she stole it from the restaurant downstairs. Her blue eyes burned like neon lights in the night, staring holes into Nebula's armor. Venus stretched on the roof slats, curled up with a Cheshire grin on her face. Mars practiced swinging her battle ax and Comet jogged laps, his version of Cecil's pacing. Levitating inches above the drowned pansies, Nebula spoke. Her blue biker helmet muffled her honey voice. "We have a few problems. And I hate to say it, but we're not doing so well against the baddies at the moment." Her cracked ribs throbbed double time as if in agreement.

"Nice comforting skills, asshole," Venus said, yawning as she cracked an eye open. Her short black hair curled behind her ears, wisps of it brushing her cheeks in the wind. She punched one of the garden boxes and the wood crumpled, pouring black goop on her fists. "If this being Captain Nebula stuff fails, maybe Captain Obvious can pass you the torch. You could captain the 'Depressing Stuff Everyone Knows but Doesn't Sant to Say' team. You'd be good at that!"

Nebula crouched down, pulled up a wilted pansy, and chucked it at Venus's face. Venus squeaked and threw bits of wood at her. The night had gone to a bad start, and Cecil looked at Nebula with these sad, haunted eyes. It broke her, the way he looked at her through that mask. They still hadn't found Jupiter, and who knew what the villains were doing with him. Her gut clenched, her fists pressing bruises on her hip. Her body thrummed with energy, something like resolve, pure and cold. Jupiter was her friend, and one of her own. The villains wouldn't win this round.

"Hey, Venus. I miss Jupiter too. Fallout and Cleo and Owl are all terrible and they have our friend, but we're not letting them get away." She drew up her breath. Puffed out her chest. "Luna has volunteered to help us, here. Right, Lunes?"

Luna tucked a strand of white hair behind her ear and glared up at the stars. Her eyes shone with such rage Nebula thought she'd try to punch the moon out of the sky. With a shuddering sigh, her hands stiff at her sides as she shuffled toward the edge of the roof. "I'm only doing this because I have to. None of you have the right blood." She spat a glob over the side. She held up a Quatro blade, held up her arm. Nebula looked away and Cecil starred in a sort of horror that was unusual for him. But then again, everything he did seemed unusual for him, now that Jupiter was gone. It made Nebula's heart sad. And suspicious. 

She hated her suspicion, hated that she couldn't trust her own husband. But she was scared for him, and with the villains prowling around, there were few she could trust. Her head throbbed. Her chest ached. She risked a glance back at Luna, swallowing back her revulsion. Some primitive part of her wanted to scream "stop!" and run over to her bleeding friend with iodine and a bandage bundle. The super's blood glowed purple against the black of Fallout's residue. Luna closed her eyes, focused hard. Her face went blank and impassive, like the moon she was named after. She held her fingers against her bleeding pulse. Purple flames curled into the sky, forming a net over the city. Lines, making little squares as far as Nebula could see. Her chest heaved. The violet grid sparkled against the stars, like silk threads. It was beautiful, and it made Nebula sad.