I'm in such a shocked-haze she throws her lasso before I remember 'running' is a thing. See kids? This is why sleep is so important. A well-rested brain can process stuff like, say, danger. And how to get away from it. I pull back, gripping the counter so tight my arms shake. The rope snags around my shoulders, and I squeak. If my heart beat any faster my chest would explode. "What are you—"
"Relax, cupcake," she says, unclipping a little black canister from her belt, "I don't want to hurt you—"
"Relax?" I fix my eyes on the door behind her, trying not to look her in the stupid mask. She wants me to relax. She wants me to relax. The lady who kicked Gats, broke into my house, and threatened to kill me wants me to relax. I don't think so.
"—At least not yet."
I stiffen. How am I supposed to escape a woman who can crush jaws easier than I do goombas? "Comforting to know. Mind telling me what that is?"
"This?" She shakes the can and her eyes light up. I shiver. "It's a relaxer, supposed to ease the victim into a state of unconsciousness. Since it seems impossible for you to chill, I thought you'd be a prime candidate."
I glower, heat rushing to my face. "I-I can chill."
"No." She shrugs. "You can't." With two spritzes, she shoots a cloud of the sweet, flowery stuff in my face. I blink and swat it away from my nose. Not much happens, other than the strange feeling I'm...floating. Okay. That isn't good.
"W-what's your name?" I ask, the curiosity killing me.
"Why would I tell you?" She stares at me like I'm The Bachelor, it's the finale, and I'm choosing between the last two contestants. You're lovely Kaitlyn, but my heart yearns for another, Kylie.
"Because," I say, "I bet this is a drug you villains use to torture us poor, innocent civilians. You know, all slow and painfully and stuff. Thus, this might take a while."
"Thus?" she snorts. "What are you, an Oxford professor?
"Sorry." I shrug. "Villains make me pull out the vocabulary words."
"Cat," she says out of nowhere, "call me 'Cat."
I can't hold back my grin."Cat? Like Catwoman? Hate to say it, but that's awfully unoriginal."
"No, you idiot." She rolls her eyes again. "'Cat' as in Catalyst.
I burst into laughter. She glares and yanks the rope. I stop. "Huh. That's..." I look at the ceiling, thoughts of eighth-grade science clouding my mind. "...really nerdy."
"What? It is not!" she hisses. I laugh, the room spinning. I better run before I'm out like my faith in humanity.
"Very. If I were a villain my name would be..."
"What?"
I rack my brain. "Dunno. It would be cooler than that, though."
"Uh-huh. It would be something stupid, like 'Long-hair-Guy." I bet she's smirking under her fake one, and the thought of it's kinda creepy. "The Terrible Tresemme? The Avenging Aveeno? Ooh, I know, Prince Pantene! Nice ring to it, don't you think?"
I smile. "Is that a defining characteristic to you? Hair length? Hate to disappoint you, but one more month and I'm cutting mine army-short."
"Interesting." She flicks her head to the side. "Well, don't do that. It looks nice this way."
"That's news, with you trying to rip it out of my skull last night and all!" I grind my heels into the floor, glaring viciously. She giggles. "Speaking of which, mind telling me why you're here and why you're kidnapping me? Again?"
She shrugs. "You're a hunted man, Angelos. You're lucky I'm the one who found you first."
"Hunted?" I try. "For what? The formula for my fabulous tresses?" I throw my head back like a model, giving my best wink. "Or my good looks?"
She glares at the ceiling, ignoring my last two lines. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
I raise my hands, giving my worst, most likely offensive southern accent. "I shuh would, missy, considerin' all the crap I've gone through." She shrugs again, and I add, "for Starlight's sake! You're holding me hostage in my own kitchen!"
"You're the most powerful super in the world," she says, eyes dull and voice flat.
It...makes sense. She confused me for another teen super. Considering my villainous looks, it isn't such a far-fetched mistake to make.
"Wrong guy. You so have the wrong guy."
She shakes her head. "You don't understand."
"Okay," I try, "If I were the most powerful super in the world, your face would be on fire. I'd also by flying, shooting lasers at things, and at least be strong enough to break free." I wriggle my shoulders, the rope digging into my blazer, "Which I'm not," I give one last yank for emphasis, and—miracle of miracles—I snap it.
Holy deus ex machina, Batman! If I read this in a book, I'd groan and throw the paperback across the room. This, however, is my life, so I decide to ignore it and whoop. Superstrength. Now that's not a shabby power. Could've been helpful yesterday, but hey! Late's better than never, as the cliche goes.
My knees give. And just like that, the extra strength seems to crumble like cookie crumbs under the weight of fatigue. Cat laughs. It's sinister, reminiscent of a witch's. I wonder how much rehearsing it took her to perfect it.
It would suck to be kidnapped now when I finally have a date to look forward to. At the thought, a flick of energy sparks through my bones, enough to snap me from my spiral into unconsciousness.
"Been real nice talking to you," I say, forcing myself not to slur, "but I have to run." With my best smirk, I bolt, knocking the villain out of my path.
Whoo! I've got a chance! And I threw in a one-liner!
Cat yelps, more out of surprise than pain, I'm sure. The thump of combat boots on wood tells me she's a resilient gal, so I focus on getting the h-e-double-hockey-sticks out of here. I tear through the living-room, aware of Gats frowning at me from his seat. He probably heard the whole exchange and (very wisely) kept his mouth shut.
Flashes of gold and white burst in front of my eyes, and I gasp. Stupid drug!
Need...to...stay...awake...
I find the door and shove it open. The hinges snap. Oh, well. I'll fix it before Jupes and Storm get back.
The custard halls seem to sneer at me. "You're so screwed."
See? You know your mental state's deteriorating when walls tell you how effed you are.
Cat bursts behind me, and I race for the stairs. My taut muscles loosen, and I fight to keep my eyes open. Sweet, perfumey scents assault my senses, and I blink my burning eyes, desperate for sleep.
And then I remember I'm fifty-some floors in the sky. It'll take forever to hit bottom, or at least too long for me and my fogged-up mind.
"This is stupid." Cat's voice echoes down the spiral. "You'll pass out and break your neck, kid. Just chill."
Colors whirl in front of my eyes. Crap.
"You want me?" I spin on my heels, arms spread like I'm ready for lift off. "You're gonna have to take me." Boom! Epic line dropped. I pretend I'm the Flash and bolt down the staircase.
"You've watched one too many Vin Diesel movies," Cat says. Even with the situation's 'direness' or whatever I roll my eyes.
The white walls blur. Stomp. Pound. Swish. It sounds like I'm in a music-less dance studio. My blazer traps me in a blanket of heat, and I chuck it into the break.
Flight after flight, my chest feels as if it'll burst. I crash down six steps. Thump. Thump. Thump. I'm so sleepy it doesn't even hurt, but I know I need a new approach. I slip onto the thirtieth floor, lungs burning.
The bliss of unconsciousness is more than tempting, but I summon all my willpower and ignore it. A window glistens at the end of the pristine hall. Shafts of light drip onto the mahogany floor. I squint at the pink sky, spotting a streak of purple across the clouds.
Hands down, this is the scariest game of 'Cat and Mouse' I've ever played. Not that I've ever liked the game, Heaven makes a brutal cat, and I have all the bruises to prove it. I edge towards the window. It shouldn't give; it's state of the art stuff. Still, I gotta try.
"Give up?" Cat asks. Well, looks like I've crossed the point of no-return. I race towards the window and give it a kick. Nothing. The window stays diamond solid. Blood roars to my skull, Cat's echoey cackle bouncing off the walls around me. I suck in a breath, remind myself how scary that lady is, and try one more stinking time. I throw my schmanciest spin kick and put some serious soul into that baby. This time, the window explodes in glass shatters. I sigh, smack away hanging shards, and climb up.
"Courage is not the lack of fear, but the ability to continue in spite of fear," said Batman or Mark Twain once upon a time in a galaxy far, far, away, and I repeat the quote over and over in my head. I'm losing my sight, my knees putty-firm.
Heights and I don't mix, but here I am, on a ledge, about to do something so stupid I'm half scared James Bond will pop up and throw his shaken-not-stirred martini at my face.
There's three, no, four feet between the ledge and the roof of a neighboring high-rise. If I jump, I can make it there and into the building via a vent or something. I've watched Mission Impossible, and this is definitely Mission Impossible material.
Nothing can save me if I fall. Galaxy's too far and Cat's still inside. I don't look down, lest The Rooftop Episode replay.
Hey, at least I'll be a cowardly man dying a courageous death. That's gotta count for something, right? Oh, God. Now I sound like I'm from Twilight. Someone save my soul.
With my head swimming and my life on the line, I hold my breath and jump.
***
Sorry for an update so late in the day (It's eleven-fifty-something in my neck of the woods, but hey, at least it's still Saturday)! Anyway, thanks so much for your reads, votes, and follows! 'Damsel[ed]:No Rescue Required' has yet to drop off the hot list (ahh! Hope I'm not jinxing it!) and it's all thanks to you lovely people!
As always, next update Wednesday! Don't forget to vote if you liked what you read or spread the word. :)