GOLDEN AGE | ON HIATUS

I | NARCISSA

An urban legend, whispered in crooked doorways when those cursed - or blessed, it depended on who you asked - walked past. Those strides were usually masked with smoke bombs, followed by sirens as the whirs of dark colours filled the streets. Boys who sat on their doorsteps swore that they had seen the invader's faces, but Narcissa knew better than that. After all, she had held those bombs in her own hands so many times that the whispers followed her everywhere.

The old women often said the same things.

It was always when they prayed to their gods that never seemed to listen, whether it was with crosses raised or fingers running along beads as they mouthed silent prayers. They never met her eyes, not when she was wearing the mask. Now was one of the only times she wasn't wearing one whilst outside. This mission was special, for more reasons than one.

Narcissa wondered whether her allies knew what she knew. If they did, then she'd be in for a treat once she got back to the base. Them, not so much. Violence was not something she favoured, not as often as others, at least. All bite and no bark, words whittled down to a knife's point, plunging deep into their flesh and carving themselves a home. Gritting her teeth, she crouched down by the overturned car, gripping the scraped car door for balance. And then she began to lift, closing her eyes and straining.

It took up nearly all the strength in her body, but after less than a minute, the car was on the road, wheels on the ground. She knew it was too damaged for any actual driving to take place, but it would be much easier to drag a body out of it once the car was the right way up. Her buyer was behind the wheel, eyes closed and faces battered with bruises from the airbag. The sight of him sent a jolt of familiarity through her body, and her strength faltered. Tears stung at her eyes, and she blinked them away hastily, curling her lips into a smirk.

He was unconscious, but he would be alright. Cuts marred his dark brown skin, blood smeared everywhere. But it wasn't normal blood. The liquid that trickled from this boy's wounds was molten gold.

Narcissa didn't try to slap him into consciousness. Her usual strength combined with the shock and anger she was feeling would've killed him, and though she was many other things, she was not a killer. For now, at least, she thought darkly, scowling as she fished a small box out of her pocket. Pressing her thumb over it, she threw it onto the asphalt, the golden boy's body slung over her shoulders. It quickly began to grow and shift shapes, eventually forming a car. Not nice enough to attract too much attention, or be a robbery target, but still nice. One of her own inventions, she thought smugly.

She knew that she shouldn't be saving him, but she couldn't help but squirm at the feeling of unease in the air. They were right on the outskirts of Semper, out of the rush of the city inside the walls. Semper City was built right where the Hartsicke River looped, creating an island large enough to house an odd few million people. Bridges crossed over to join Semper to the rest of the country, but only one still stood. Quite literally, when the old heroes had gone rogue, they'd burned the bridges along the way. Nearly eighteen years later, and they still hadn't bothered to rebuild.

Semper City had not been built to be an avid member of US Society, so it was no surprise that crime thrived in its seclusion. Law enforcement was corrupt, and though SCPD cars patrolled around every street corner, they still couldn't seem to cut down on it. At all. Youth education programs were abandoned, the money used for building more and more prisons instead. Street gangs were a more looming threat than ever, and even with a loaded gun at her belt and superhuman powers at her disposal, Narcissa kept finding herself looking over her shoulder. Something brushed against her legs, and she jumped, before the green eyes of the cat glowed in the light cast by the tiny lamps above the rear-view mirror. It leapt up before slinking into one of the back seats, purring once more as it dug its nose into the leather upholstery.