Don't tug on Superman's cape
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- Parts 1
"Hey, Hargrove," the chief calls, and the body that's been dragging itself seemingly away from its place of residence freezes.
With a hiss, Billy slowly turns his body to face the car, and under the golden streetlights the bruises spanning across his chest and jaw and cheek - are pitch black yet glow a faint yellow.
"Fuck off, chief," he grits through his teeth, "I didn't do anything wrong this time. Didn't smack around a poor bastard, and I wasn't speeding because if you haven't noticed; I don't have my car. So move on."
A piece to fill the 'Bruises' square on my prompt bingo card.
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