Rapscallion

Forget Vampires, Blood is for Superheroes

Change the world. Yeah, right.

I stare at the sparkly spots on my popcorn ceiling with one arm folded behind my head and the other idly scratching Edgar, who's drooling on my pillow next to me.

Sleep isn't happening right now, so instead I'm wondering how in hell my life became this crazy mess.

Instead of counting sheep, I make a list:

-  My parents are dead

-  My sister hates my guts

-  I'm a freaking supervillain

-  My ex wants to kill everyone

-  The Virus sucks

-  Genie is still dying

-  Her parents also hate my guts

-  Void is acting weird

-  Jane is dating a douchebag

-  I'm out of cereal

-  Did I mention I rob banks?

I have an incredibly disturbing urge to laugh. Five years can really screw up your life. "I think I'm losing it, Edgar."

Edgar sneezes in my ear in response.

I'm used to sleepless nights though—when I had the Virus, I barely got a wink. Maybe it was because of the waves of pain accompanying your organs slowly deteriorating or maybe just the black haze that hung over your head at night, that sinking feeling of reality.

It never felt real during the day, even with bleary-eyed doctors waving their clipboards and nurses sucking your veins dry with their constant blood drawing. But when the halls grew quiet and the alabaster white walls seemed to glow in the dim light, the weight of it stifled me.

I was going to die. Statistically, I had a 1/2,500 chance of living with the added bonus of an irreversible, unknown mutation. And what did I have to live for anyway? My parents were dead. My older sister could barely be bothered to leave her perfect life and come visit me. I didn't have a girlfriend, or any close friends.

At that point, I had stopped hoping.

And then Genie cracked open the door to my hospital room at 11pm on a Tuesday night. She must have thought everyone would be asleep, but I was wide awake when she peeked cautiously around the door before slipping in and closing it behind her gently. I must have been a little jacked up on morphine because I didn't say anything, just watched as a skinny blonde girl began rifling through the cabinets next to my bed.

Finally I said, "What the hell are you doing in here?"

She screamed, spinning around and flailing backwards. "I—I just was um—"

"Get out." I pointed to the door half-heartedly. "You're lost, kid."

She nearly did. God, I wish I'd made her leave. I wish I'd cared enough to stop her.

Her eyes darted from the door to my face, but her feet were glued to the floor.

"Out," I demanded again.

Her chin lifted and brown eyes flashed. "I need your blood."

If I hadn't been half dead at the moment I probably would've cracked a vampire joke. However in my nearly deceased and hopeless state, all I managed was a, "You're serious?"

She took a step toward me and I glanced down at her neon pink converse, the laces muddy and untied. Her hair was damp. She whispered, "I need to turn into a superhero."

I laughed. "Yeah, okay."

She continued. "Someone at school told me. I need it." She turned back around with renewed fervor, tossing out rubber gloves and bottles of who-knows-what.

"Look kid, it doesn't work like that. Besides, I don't think they'd leave containers of my blood just lay—"

"Ha!" She held up a vial like it was a penny she'd found on the street. Sure enough, deep red glinted in the dim light. "You were saying, Mr. Grumpy?"

I snarled. "You don't understand what you're doing."

"You're just trying to scare me. I need to be a superhero. It's the only way he'll ever listen to me." She wrestled with the lid for a second before popping it off.

"Who will listen to you?"

"It's none of your business," she shot back, staring into the blood as she swirled it.

"Put the blood back."

"No."

I couldn't believe this was happening. Maybe my morphine drip had been bumped up a few too many notches. "What's your name?" I asked, deciding to play the nice guy if only to get her out of here. Frankly, I was out of options.

She tilted her head. "Genie."

"Where are your parents?"

"At home."

"How did you get here?"

"Walked."

I felt like ripping my hair out. Oh wait, just kidding, I didn't have any since the Virus had caused every hair to drop out. "You know what, fine," I snapped. "Drink the damn blood."

And she did.

I've replayed this night over and over in my mind. What could I have said different, done different, to save her? Why did I give up? I know the answers. I quit fighting for her because I'd quit fighting for myself. I was done caring about myself, people, and life. And Genie paid the consequence.

I slip my legs out of bed with a sigh. There's no way I'm going to be able to sleep tonight. I grab my phone off the nightstand, shrug on my coat, and drift through my wall out onto the fire escape. Might as well make my sleeplessness useful.

First, I text Jane and Void:

Me: Jed's. Tomorrow, 10pm. We need to talk about the end of the world.

Void: Drinks on you, since you love to rob banks so much.

Jane: So no plus one, then?

I roll my eyes and ignore them, pressing my phone to my ear. Art picks up on the second ring, his voice in the same mild tone as always. "I would complain that it's late, but this is actually pretty early for you," he rumbles.

"I decided to take it easy on you, old man. You need your beauty sleep, after all," I reply.

"Watch it, kid. I could take you out even with those fancy powers of yours. What do you need?"

"Did you get it transferred yet?"

Art takes care of the money, which shows how much I trust the guy. He takes his cut, then anonymously pays off Genie's hospital bills with the rest roughly a week after the heist to avoid suspicion.

"Just did last night."

"Great. Thanks, Arty."

"Just doing my part," he says. "What's the other reason you called?"

I lean my elbows against the railing. On a hunch, I say, "Can you meet me at Jed's bar at 10pm tomorrow?" I bite my lip, not exactly sure why I'm asking him to come with me to meet Jane and Void. He's not usually involved within the "super club". But I value his opinion, and besides, nobody wants to be the only villain of the group.

"Is everything alright?"

I snort. "No. Not really. But I shouldn't talk about it over the phone."

He grunts. "Alright, but Elena's not going to be happy with me for missing her dance recital. This better be good."

I run a hand through my hair. "Trust me, it is."