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Beads of tears strolled down her cheeks, the stream of droplets falling onto the cement pavement. Drip, drip, drip; just like the rain after a hot afternoon, cooling off the world in a sweep of water and the tears of the skies.

Her tears were soon joined by the natural weather of Earth, the clouds ahead gathering above the city, the cry of thunder booming amongst the stirring pressure.

Civilians on the streets moved frantically, fishing out their ponchos, umbrellas; or desperately searching for shelter to hide from the upcoming storm. She stood still like a statue, the warm light of the bakery next to her reflecting off her figure in a heavenly glow.

People rushed by her, their lips moving, legs breaking into runs. They paid her no attention, as her gaze was fixed on the ground, the bill of her dark cap casting an unworldly shadow onto most of her face.

A man in his thirties' sprinted through the street, pushing past people, crowds and bursting through the public. He was slowly closing into her, yet she paid no attention to the man behind her. Her eyes were lifeless and intense, widened like she was angered.

The man shoved his way past her, his broad figure knocking over innocent civilians onto her. He ran past her, but a sudden chill down his spine forced him to freeze in his steps.

His body trembled unknowingly, his head shaking as he clenched his teeth, turning to face the source of his sudden chill. The girl that stood by the shop had not been knocked down by the people that he'd shoved onto her, but instead, she was holding their balances by placing their palms on their backs, her deathly gaze glaring straight at him.

The storm overhead rumbled, and droplets began to descend onto the city. The soft melody of rain hummed in their ears and resonated off the windows and roofs, but the light cast by the lightning burst to their grounds, temporarily veiling her in a stark white, revealing the darkness in her scarlet eyes.

The entitled man's jaw slacked in fear, barely moving even with the rain pouring down onto him, soaking through his white polo shirt. His clenched fingers searched for comfort that wasn't there, his knees buckling into jelly.

The innocent people noticed the situation's abnormal advancement and quickly excused themselves, but not before briefly thanking the young teen in black who'd broke their falls. However, the man hadn't been let off so easy.

Her lips parted slightly, and a soft, inaudible breath escaped breathlessly. She tilted her head slightly, her braid falling past her shoulders.

The rain had soaked them both now, but neither made a move.

"You," she breathed, her fist unclenching. Sparks danced in her palm, the red cackling in her fingertips. "Don't do it again."

Lightning struck in the sky, and the white lit up her face entirely. Everything about her screamed death, and the mortal man knew better than to object. He nodded, wiping away his drool with a shaking hand, and ran away, nearly tripping but he picked himself up.

The girl watched as he ran for his life. She said nothing more, and the people who hid in the bakery were cowering behind the counters for their dear lives, having witnessed the entire exchange. Her eyes fell towards them, and one of the children cried in retrospect. The mother quickly slapped a hand over the child, clenching her son tighter and curling away.

Thunderstorm sighed from her nose, closing her eyes gently. She suppressed the offense with next to no difficulty. Her eyes opened to face the dark, deserted pavement in front of her, the rain pouring down like an unorganized opera.

Like a ghost, she left towards the direction of her next area of patrol, all the while her footsteps causing ripples in the puddles, but it was quickly washed away and she made no sound, her presence unsighted, like she was a wandering spirit.

* * *

As soon as the apartment's door opened, she heard the familiar quippy remark that she spent her time ignoring. The TV was on full blast, the music of a video game blaring in the confined space.

"Someone sure took their sweet time," Blaze quipped, lying on one of the couches that faced the TV. Judging by his furrowed brows and tensed posture, he was losing to Thorn by a landslide.

Thunderstorm sighed and closed the door behind her, water dripping from her clothes and wetting the floor. She would have to clean that up later, but for now, she needs a change of clothes. Braids were so hard to untangle when they get wet.

Maneuvering herself to her room was easy. Dodging the dangerous weaponry around the corridor was not. There was a golden machine gun, an active nuclear reactor (it didn't affect their health since they weren't fully human) and several unnamed machines that she would prefer not knowing the name of. They were too complicated. There was one time where she nearly stepped on a miniature landline, but she stopped just before she denotated their house.

Finally, she reached the safety of her room in peace. The mahogany door was opened, as her fingers curled around the brass door knob. The hinges creaked as it was pushed open, and the light from the living room draped over a small portion of the entrance. Like lightning, she entered the room and locked the door behind her, her back pressing against the door.

Despite her wet, cold clothes and skin, her tears were warm. Her jaw was tightly clenched, her body sinking to the floor as she collapsed on her knees, trembling as tears streamed down her cheeks. Sobs clogged her throat, the ache of phantom constriction making it difficult for her to breathe.

Why was the world so unfair to her?

She's a hero—same as her teammates, Blaze and Thorn. Yet they received so much more recognition than her, despite her doing nearly all the work and handling all the conferences and papers. She could live without the recognition and fame, but she just yearns for acceptance. Even so, it was a petty dream. Everyone feared her for who she was. They saw her as a monster that they should be running away from, not towards.

After all of this... she just wants a friend. They don't even have to be close. She just wants someone to talk to, someone that would shed a damn tear for her if she dies.

That wasn't possible, was it?

Her tears came faster than before, her sobs threatening to escape her throat. She desperately pressed her palms to her eyes, trying to stop herself from continuing and wallowing in self-pity, but even her hands were shaking. Not from the cold, but her own grief.

Her back hunched over the floor, her forehead pressing against the chilly tiles. Her right palm pushed against the ground, like she was trying to force herself to sit upright, but failing to her own inner demons. She would fight back. Eventually. Just not now. She would fight fate, and her own emotions to lead this godforsaken team. If they were going to survive in society, it's up to her to set the groundwork for them.

Only her.

Thunderstorm's fingers uncurled, clawing at the tiles in frustration. She needed to get a grip. Her team's still depending on her. A low growl was followed by a shallow breath, and she pushed herself back up, dreadful to return to the reality she was forced to live.

How To Be Me (boboiboy galaxy)Where stories live. Discover now