•20• the cripple

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I woke up to Sterlings' spit-soaked finger wiggling its way into my ear, and Gold gone. I wasn't surprised, really. He did admit to sneaking out, so he'd have to get home before anyone noticed. I can't say I wasn't disappointed though.

I've decided that, today, I start my hunt for Golds' identity.

Although he didn't clarify as to whether or not I've talked to him, if I've seen him in my class, or if we've made eye contact for mere seconds, I know that he goes to Landchester, and his hair colour is dark. Great. Gold could be one of half the students in Landchester.

"Oh my god, can he not go any faster?" Sterling groaned, then called out to the man in front of us, "you're slower than a snowplow after a blizzard, y'old geezer!"

Sterling declared, after finding out was Cyrus was planning to do and the great lengths he'd go to achieve it, that at least one of the two supers has to be by my side for the entire day. Because Gold isn't telling us his identity, that responsibility rests on Sterlings' scrawny shoulders. Hence the reason why I'm so eager to find out who Gold is under the mask.

"You're such an ass sometimes." I accuse, giving Sterling a pointed look.

"What? Why?" He looked genuinely confused.

"I don't know, Sterling. Maybe it has to do with the fact that the man you're yelling at is crippled? He can't go very fast." I hissed, motioning towards the wheelchair; the little bald man was trying to make the wheels turn faster, pumping his arms and panting at the effort.

"I'm not an ass. I just don't give a fuck most of the time." Sterling said. "Okay, sorry Ash, but I can't take this," he pointed towards the man, "anymore. I just can't." Before I could propose walking around the man, Sterling was already in front of him, slamming his arms to the mans legs.

A glow emitted from his hands, and his face contorted with pain. The mans' foot twitched, he gasped and looked between the two of us in bewilderment. He pressed his foot to the ground, and, with shaky breaths, took a few steps forward, before losing his balance. I caught him before he hit the ground, and placed him back in his chair.

"God bless." He reached for Sterling, who cringed as the mans' boney fingers encased his hand. He stood back up, grabbed the handles to the chair, and used them for support, as he stumbled down the road. He only fell once more.

Sterling bore a smug expression when the man turned the corner, arms crossed over his chest. "Who's the ass now?" He asked; I rolled my eyes.

"You'd give up your identity just to prove a point?" I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Isn't that obvious?" He snorted.

"Well, congratulations, Sterling. You evolved from ass, to egotistical." I sighed, "get up, we'll be late." I kicked the heel of his combat boots.

"I can't."

"Is that your new catch phrase, or something?" I joked, "Sure you can."

"I'm serious. I can't move my legs." To prove his point, he picked up one of his legs, and let it fall. It hit the ground with a thump.

"The disadvantage of healing a cripple." He shrugged, raising his arms to the sky.

"You want me to carry you?" I scoffed, he nodded. I looked around, wishing I had a whistle that could summon Golden Sparkler whenever I needed him. His phone number would work too.

"We're going to be late, Ashlyn." Sterling mocked, "come on, Lyn baby. I'm not heavy..." He furrowed his eyebrows and squished the skin under his shirt, "not that heavy, anyway."

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