All about Flinx

The In-between

The contents of the bowl (dubbed "vegetable soup" by the volunteers) looked suspiciously like gruel, in my opinion - a lumpy sludge that oozed off of the spoon when I lifted it out of the bowl. I pulled a face. "Ugh. Who makes this muck?"

A nearby boy, who had been spooning the muck up greedily, shot me a dirty look. "If you don't want it," he sneered, "give it to someone who deserves it."

I poked out my tongue, but it was lost on him - he couldn't see properly under my hood. It was the shadow it cast on my face, obscuring my features, that protected me. I have a pretty distinctive appearance. That's an understatement. But, not content to let him get away with that remark, I found myself concentrating on the bench beneath him.

An unnatural flash of pink; the wood beneath him splintered. He cried out as he fell backwards onto the cold floor, and his bowl of "soup" fell all over his tasteless, second-hand shirt.

I laughed maliciously, and abruptly felt a little sorry for the guy. Why should I? He asked for it.

The boy looked incredulous (he was obviously trying to figure out how I'd done it). The bounty on my head was suddenly front and foremost in my mind; what if he recognises me? I felt a stab of panic and shot to my feet, the blood draining from my face and making me look even paler. My hand knocked the bowl off the table, and the vegetable sludge slopped across the floor.

I scurried over to the door. My plan to escape the homeless shelter so as not to be noticed had noticeably backfired; the entire room watched in silence as I slammed the door behind me.

The crowd swallowed me and shunted me down the pavement; I eventually resurfaced into a small café by the roadside. The suddenly warm atmosphere of the place was disconcerting. I slunk over to an empty table, and some of the clientele shot me dirty looks, but said nothing.

The menu lay on the table before me, offering sandwiches and hot drinks. My stomach growled. I was beginning to regret abandoning my dinner at the soup kitchen. If I was being honest with myself, the soup wasn't too bad, especially for a low budget.

Still, I missed special-occasion sundaes at the H.I.V.E. Academy, and pizza night with the H.I.V.E. Five. Sure, Wykkyd, Gizmo, Billy and Mammoth were annoying. But See-More was alright. In fact, he was the only member of the team I really regretted leaving behind...

I gripped the fabric of my hoodie (an ugly castoff - I planned to ditch the monstrosity at the first chance) so tightly that it probably should have ripped; I squeezed my eyes shut as my vision began to blur. What the hell am I doing here?

I had a life. A villainous one, but a life nonetheless. Then that bastard showed up.

I gritted my teeth in anticipation of that familiar surge of anger, but when it came, it was a ghost of what I'd felt before. It wasn't even true anger anymore. Just a washed-out annoyance - and acceptance. Of...what? My new life? Could it even be called a life, picking through bins and relying on charity?

I'd considered stealing several times (after all, it's not as if I could withdraw from the H.I.V.E. Five account any more). There was a designer jacket that had drawn me to a shop window only a few days ago; by the time they'd notice that I'd skipped the bill at a fast food restaurant, I'd be halfway across the city.

So why hadn't I? I'd asked myself several times, and still couldn't get an answer.

"Ahem."

I looked up to see a surly waitress tapping her foot and frowning at me. "Are you going to order, miss?"

I could have a coffee, at least. It's only $1 here. Who's gonna care about $1?

"No. I'm not going to order anything."