Becoming a Sarcastic Superhero 101

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Step One Of Becoming a Sarcastic Superhero. Be a sarcastic asshole.

Resently, I can be a little bit of a Bitch.

Not like I don't have good reason, I was just entered into the Witness Protection Program after I gave evidence against some mad men who kidnapped me, then tried to give me Superpowers by injecting something into my veins, then electricuting me. Crazy Bastards.

I think I have the right to no longer be the Little-Miss-Perfect-Grades-And-Manners I was before.

Though, I'm not technically her anymore, not legally.

"Cathrine Cane." I rolled the unfamiliar name over my tounge. "Hi," I said to no one other than my steering wheel. "I'm Cathrine Cane, nice to meet you."

I drove down the road to my new school. My family and I had to move house, and state, into an unknown city.

I breathed deeply, pulling into a school parking lot. West Summer Lane high school, that was so cutesy, it was almost sinister. After a quick sweep of the lot, I realised only one space at the back of the lot remained, unshaded, subjecting my car to a heat I haven't yet grown accustom to.

I leaned my head back against the headrest and mentally prepared myself.

The F.B.I. said I wouldn't have to change my face, no plastc surgury to hide my idenity. The way the Witness Protection Program is betrayed on T.V. is bull crap.

You'd think, after almost dying, and being the loan survivor of the Kidnappers, I'd get a new wardrobe. But no, my Mother still has full reign.

God forbid I wear something that doesn't label me a Nerd, and by extention, an easy target.

I quickly found another reason to be mad at my Mother. She was making me go to school, the day after we officially moved. Even the hard-core F.B.I. people thought I needed a break after my emotional truma, but she said no.

I must keep up my grades, dress in a 'dignified' manner as to not attract distractions from my studies.

And I would of argued, had I not heard about the hell she went though the two months I was declared missing, how she hardly slept or ate. How she forced the police to keep checking for me, to never give up hope in finding me.

I exited the growing heat of the car, as the air conditioner was off.

Just keep your head down, be annyomous.

I wished my hair wasn't tied up in a ponytail, so I could hide behind a curtain of long dark brunette hair.

Front Office. Sound like a good place to start my new hellish sentance.

"Miss Cathrine Cane?" A bored voice asked from behind a desk, stapling some papers and putting them into a tray marked 'Out Going'.

"Yes."

"Here, your timetable, map is on the back. Next!" She rushed out, dismissing me. I moved away from the growing line, I'm definetly not in a small town anymore. A flet of people weaved with determination through the halls.

I looked at the map, and quickly realised I had to throw myself into the most clustered part of the hall, in order to get to my classroom. Damn it.

An arm brushed mine, and moved on. I shuddered and my breathing deepened.

Memories of being touched, hands touching my arm, a voice saying 'she doesn't feel differant, we've got another failed attempt.' Then another voice (the one who made sure I never saw him, blindfolded me). 'Not failed, we can see how far we can push her.' Then the shocks started again, when I thought I couldn't scream anymore, I was too drained, when my breath was gone, they shocked me again, and I somehow had managed to let out another unanswered blood-curdling scream.