Lost Stars

Chapter Thirty Six

-Athena's POV-

I sighed, dropping my dirty dishes into the tiny sink in my makeshift kitchen. My safe house was spacious, by all means, but most of the room resembled more of a warehouse, overcrowded with training equipment and technology. It resembled an old, abandoned boxing gym with only the bare necessities a house really needed. Next to my hammock was a tiny bathroom, complete with a tiny shower. Then all the way across the room from there was an extra sink, tiny oven, and a fridge I had to install. But, that was about it.

I sat at my only piece of real furniture. It was an unstable wooden table I had found laying on the side of the street, probably ditched by some family living in the slums. One stool sat at it. Why would I need more than one? I was usually the only one here. The only other regular visitor was Jason. And I hadn't seen him in over a week.

My boxed macaroni dinner was giving me stomach aches. I cranked the main lights down to a soft setting and dove into my hammock. It swayed gently, reminding me of the sea. Two candles perched on the windowsill. I had lit them after working out. Even superheroes get B.O.

Reaching beside me, I blindly fumbled with the stack of books that had gathered underneath my hammock. I was always knocking the stack down only to re stack it. The routine of it never seemed to get old, in fact, it calmed me down a bit.

I only owned books I had already read. Nothing was new. I only stacked my favorites. Running my fingers along the spines, I immediately recognized the one I wanted. With its spiky and torn cover, my First Edition of the Odyssey showed its age. I smiled. Despite the icy relationship that had splintered between the Wayne family and myself, I still couldn't help but grin when I picked up the gift. I traced Homer's signature, remembering just how good Bruce was at birthday gifts.

I read through the first three hundred pages before my eyelids started to feel heavy. Even with the exciting adventures of Odysseus distracting me, I couldn't help but feel tired. With Jason gone, I had to pick up his slack. Blowing up things and fighting off goons had now become a one person job. I had been used to doing things partner style, so the solitary change was taking some time to get used to.

A soft, somber silence filled the air. I didn't dare bend the spine of my book, so I gently set it back on top of my pile, a piece of old Nomex holding my page.

Just as I laid back in my hammock, a loud crash broke my peaceful sleep setting.

My window was smashed as a body came flying through, landing perfectly into my hammock with me. The hammock swayed, throwing me on top of the escapee. I managed to glimpse his white eyes before he gripped my arms with an even whiter knuckle grip.

"Watch out!" Jason screamed into my face, rolling the hammock over, taking us with it. Like a trash bag, the hammock dumped us out onto the cold, hard concrete. Jason pushed me against the ground as he tensed up. He was using himself as a shield against another incoming explosion. But, the explosion never came.

At first, we both stayed that way for about ten seconds, still tensed and waiting for something to happen. I took a peek outside my destroyed window. Flames licked the streets, casting the night in a gentle orange glow. But, the fire didn't come inside and neither did a grenade or any other bomb.

However, there was a fire in my safe house.

Small flames had spread from my floor to my hammock. I watched as pieces of my crochet bed dripped down, threatening my book pile. "Off!" I screeched, shoving Jason to the side. I slid out from under him, swiping at the fire. My knees skidded across burned shards of glass. I could feel the fire above my head burn my hair, but I didn't care, or really feel it. I also didn't feel the flames as they climbed up my arms. I shoved my books across the room. I didn't back away from the tiny fire until I heard them clang against my fridge. Safe.