Chapter Twenty-Eight: Stygian World

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Flash forward

I shakily start running and launch myself forward, then take off in flight, mid-air.

I fly over the city, nearly falling out of the sky a couple times, but regain my concentration.

I stare down at the tiny people bustling below and the cars jammed in the streets.

I watch as two police cars turn a corner, lights flashing and sirens blaring. However, I choose to ignore it. Judging by the fact that there are only two police cars, rather than, say, twelve to eighteen... I'm guessing it's not a villain and instead just a house robbery of some sort.

Call me a bad superhero, but sometimes cops can handle their own business without us heroes barging in and taking all the glory.

Speaking of villains: there has been a major lack of them in the past couple of weeks. Which brings me to think that they're planning something big with Sinister. We already know he has a warehouse full of hostages, but he doesn't know we know that.

We also know that he wants to rid the city, and most likely the world, of heroes; the only way to do that is by terminating all of them. Every. Last. One.

Of course, there'll be more Supers born into the this world, but if Sinister succeeds in killing us all off, they'll be too scared to want to become heroes. And if they want to use their powers dressed in a spandex costume with a mask and use cheap, quick-witted one liners, they'll become a small-time villain. Thus, creating a whole new generation of upcoming villains.

But, the League will do our best. We will fight our hardest. And hopefully... our hard work pays off and we win this thing.

I begin to lose my concentration and start falling out of the sky.

Shit, shit, shit!

I try to stabilize myself but to no avail and I land in the middle of an intersection, barrel rolling to a stop and scratching up my chin and forehead. I lay flat on the ground, staring at the spinning sky, taking in a big breath and hold it, trying to stop the world from becoming kaleidoscopic.

I roll onto my stomach and use my wobbly arms to press myself up to standing but end up falling and stumbling to my feet. Some people waiting to cross the street watch in confusion and some in concern as I totter out of the way of an impatient taxi driver who repeatedly honks his horn.

I regain my balance but am hunched over, one hand firmly gripping my thigh. I raise my hand to him which could be taken as a stop or a sorry gesture, however you choose to take it. I make it out of the intersection successfully but trip over the edge of the curb as I try to get up onto the sidewalk.

"Scarlett? Are you alright?" A young woman asks as she leans down beside me. I try to speak but can't seem to make a sound. So instead I just shake my head no. She looks around and then back to me as she hikes the straps of her backpack higher onto her shoulders and then wriggles her arm underneath mine and grabs my torso, helping me to a standing position.

"Let's get you out of the street." She whispers into my ear as she glances at the growing crowd of people gawking at us. She guides me into a small thrift store on the corner of the street and helps me sit down against the wall. She pulls out her phone from one of the pockets of her backpack and dials a number and starts speaking in hushed tones to someone on the other end of the line.

I avert my gaze from her and look over the rest of the shop. The store owner appears from behind a rack of hand-me-down clothing and pushes his circular glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

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