Heroism

Chapter 1

My body drops to the ground quickly, dodging a kick to the face. I grunt, and then sweep my right leg across the pavement. My assailant is caught off guard, and he slams to the ground, landing on his back. The fall pushed the air out of his lungs, and I crawl on top of him, and ram my elbow into his nose with the force of my entire body.

Blood pours out of his nose, almost immediately, and I grab his arms. I can feel the rough polyester blend of his hoodie, and with another hand I pull him to his feet.

"Wanna go for round two," I ask, backing away from him.

His hazel eyes send me a death-glare.

"What? A girl can't kick your ass twice?"

Gerald, or as everyone in town calls him, The Skulker, comes barreling toward me. His large form should easily overtake someone of my size, but I perfectly slide to the side and grab his hood, effortlessly throwing him into the side of the ally. The surface of the amber bricks shattered on impact, and dust fell onto my friend.

"Sorry, I forget sometimes," I rush to apologize.

I offer my hand to Gerald, and he chuffs. His eyes were squinting in pain, and he was clutching his right hip that had taken the impact. There were new tears in his dark-blue jeans, and the dust turned his black hoodie to a dingy gray.

"That fu**** hurt," he spat.

My lips turn down into a frown. I hadn't meant to lose myself in our sparring match. Super strength still didn't feel natural, the ability to punch through a door-way, or lift a truck, shouldn't be so easy.

"Dinner's on me," I say cautiously.

Gerald could mark me if he wanted, if I bruised his ego for the last time, but he takes my gloved hand, and lifts himself to his feet. He dusts himself off, and gives me a big smile that lights up his eyes.

"You'd be perfect for tonight's gig," he praises as his hand comes up to slap my upper back.

My insides groan.

Gerald was apart of the Lotus Gang, Valentine's renowned group of villains and general misfits. My parents would cook me for dinner if they found out I was hanging with the son of their arch-rival.

"You know I can't," I whine, pushing him out onto the sidewalk of the factory district.

The sun had already begun to set, vibrant pinks and purples lit up the dingy grey-buildings. Each one an identical mix of concrete and brick. This was the bad side of town, and I couldn't risk my parents finding me out here.

"Let's go to Geovanies tonight? You love his calzones," I offer before I stick my tongue out at him.

"The gang expects me back before night-fall. Rain-check?" He asks, pulling up his hood. I could tell it was stretched out, because it laid awkwardly on top of his head.

The skull on the bandana he pulled up to cover his face wasn't funny. It was a mark of terror for the everyday people who lived here.

What can I say? I like a bad boy.

"Friday night, then?" I ask, and flutter my eyelashes at him.

"I'll mark it on my calendar," he teased, and gently pulled me into his arms so he could kiss the top of my head.

Some of my black hair got caught in the crook of his neck, and I laughed.

"Take care of yourself," I tease back, and gave his torso a brief hug.

Gerald leaves my side, and I sprint to catch the last bus out of the Factory District.

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"Coretta Anne Hart," my mom said in her typical "you are a disgrace" voice.

I didn't catch the bus, and my half-hearted attempt to sneak into the house failed miserably.

"We didn't raise you to be so disrespectful," came the booming voice of my father.

It was times like this that I could tell that they really belonged together, united under a common problem. My mother's hair was in her bed-time bun, and a couple patches stuck out at the back of her neck. She was wearing her large grey t-shirt matched with fuzzy pink pajama pants covered in bright red hearts.

The highlights of grey mixed in with her blonde hair only made her look better, where my dad's white tank top struggled to cover his broad chest. He looked hunched over from an afternoon at the gym, and I started to get anxious.

I knew that they would be woken up by the land-line in their bedroom. The scarlet phone had ruined many family evenings, and when I was a child I would stay up past curfew to make sure they got home safely.

My parents weren't your average over-protective school board members; my parents were superheroes. The superheroes, the ones who talk at town-hall meetings and save the world.

They had all the time in the world for everyone but their eldest daughter.

"It's Cora," I moan. They only called me by my full name when I did something I wanted to do.

"You were told to be home before dinner," my mom nagged, her arms folding over her chest.

"I'm twenty years old," I explain, "I should be allowed to have a social life."

My mom lowered her eyes. The great White Crain brought to an impasse by none other than her own daughter.

"Ben and Victoria are allowed to come home whenever they want, and Ben is only sixteen," I say exasperated.

"I'm just a regular college student who likes to study at the library into the night. I could be out doing drugs or who knows what else," I lie.

I obviously couldn't tell them the truth, not with my mother's super strength and ability to fly, and my dad's robotic super-suit that he uses to enhance his lazer-eyes.

"Get some dinner, and go to your room," my dad sighed, conceding.

For some reason, probably due to the pain still lingering in my dad's eyes, it didn't feel right to win.