The world was shrouded in darkness, night holding court in the sky. The light of the pale moon and its companion constellations illuminated a lone figure sitting on a roof top. From her perch fourteen stories up, Taylor could see most of the darkened city. Only a few windows held the single glow of late night readers. From that high up the street lamps looked like fireflies and cars like children's toys.
Though what she stared out on was called a city, she felt it wasn't deserving of the title. Though it held a dozen or so buildings that teetered over the double digit line with the number of stories they had, there wasn't a road that didn't eventually lead to a suburban neighborhood. In total the city took up a less than hundred blocks. The family established areas ringed the feeble tempted metropolis. To Taylor the city looked like a bachelor who had started a company but half way through gotten married and settled down.
A plastic crinkling sound filled the night as Taylor dug her hand into the chip bag. When discovering she had already emptied the contents, she lifted the bag up and tilted her head back, accepting any last crumbs the bag might still hold. Not at all satisfied, she balled the bag and shoved it into her pocket. Her eyelids dipped once and she rubbed out them furiously to keep sleep at bay.
Around her everyone was lost to a blissful world of sleep. Part of her wondered if she should give in and join the rest of society in its pass time. But she had only stopped one car theft and felt it was a pitiful result of almost five hours of waiting. Tugging out her phone, she checked the time. It was a little past two in the morning. She figured she would give it another half an hour. The bars were all closing and if anything were to happen it would be about now.
Yawning into the back of her gloved hand, she waited. Dressed all in black, she looked like a forgotten shadow sitting on the edge of the roof ledge. Her black tennis shoes occasionally swung, bumping the stone building. Even with the moon spotlighting her, her face was invisible, her milk chocolate skin blending into the shadow of her lowered hood.
When the minutes began to stretch and her eyes found it hard to focus, Taylor stood. Peace had seemed to visit the city that night. She was about to leave when she felt it. It was like a second pulse. Something in her chest that heard a silent cry. It was a feeling that had appeared six months ago. A feeling Taylor now knew like the beating of her own heart. It was a call for help only she could hear.
With a single thought, the world around her vanished.
When it reappeared the roof top was gone and she stood on sidewalk in the heart of the city, drawn to the pulsing feeling. For her the feeling of teleporting was like walking through a sheet of water. Shocking, refreshing and soft. It was a sensation that had become familiar to her like an old friend's smile.
Turning once, Taylor found what the feeling had pulled her to. Down a side alley - across from the city's rowdiest bar - was a man backed against the wall, cowering. The reason why was apparent in the mountain of the man standing over him with a gun pointed at his chest. Taylor registered this in a moment's glance and acted. She popped out of sight and popped back in only this time she was right beside the mugger.
"Guns are dangerous," she said.
The instant the mugger swung to see who had spoken, Taylor disappeared. When she showed up again she was on his other side.
"I'm serious, you should be careful."
The man plastered to the wall, had stopped whimpering and was staring wide eyed at Taylor. The attacker spun around and when he did Taylor was ready. In his startled state, she grabbed the gun from his hand. It was a tactic she had successfully used many times.
What she hadn't anticipated was the man's reaction time.
A fist came out of nowhere and slammed into Taylor's face. The pain was blinding and on instinct she vanished, reappearing yards away. Stars danced before her eyes and she blinked furiously, trying to rid herself of them. The pounding of footsteps sent Taylor's adrenaline skyrocketing and she blinked out of existence for a second. When she managed to focus her eyes again, she discovered she was on the rooftop where the night had started.
Her face throbbed and she felt like falling over. Fighting the feeling, she returned to the darkened alley. Though she could have only been gone less than a minute, the mugger had fled. Sighing, Taylor moved to the stunned man. At her approach, he quivered, fearing the worse. Seeing his panic, she raised her hands.
"Don't worry," she said. "I'm not going to hurt you."
The man could only gaze up at her in petrified silence.
"Did he take anything?" she asked.
When she got no response, she sighed again. Her head hurt, her body was aching with fatigue and all she wanted to do was pass out for the night, instead she had to deal with a drunken mute.
"Nod once if he took anything. A wallet? Watch? Car keys?"
These words seemed to register in the man's brain because he nodded.
"Alright," she said. She pulled out her phone and dialed a number.
After a single ring a voice sounded. It was low, eager and alert.
"What do you have for me, Shadow?"
Taylor rolled her eyes. The name the policeman had given her was stupid and she didn't want it, but after calling her person for the first month, she understood his need to put a name to her.
"Mugger escaped but I got his gun and a witness. The man will be outside Hal's bar. The gun will be on the rooftop. How fast can you get here?"
"Three minutes," Weston said.
"Good. I'm leaving then."
Before the policeman could question her more, Taylor hung up.
"Go sit outside Hal's bar. Someone will come take care of you?"
The man blinked, his words returning to him.
"Who are you?"
The question was one Taylor found unanswerable. Because there was no world where teenage-vigilante-with-a-calculus-test-the-next-morning would be taken seriously.
"A vague dream you'll barely remember tomorrow."
With that parting statement, she vanished.
After leaving the gun where she said it would be, she reappeared inside a dark room. Light from the moon fell into the window and illuminated an untidy bedroom. A chair in front of a chaotic desk had begun a clothes collection. A messy bed was hiding a dummy made of pillows and the walls were fighting contradicting ages with their decorations.
Taylor had stopped noticing these flaws the moment, she had taken up her late night activities. All she thought about as she climbed into bed were the five hours of sleep was going to catch before she would have to face the day.
*******************
The ringing of musical chimes, accompanied with the knocking at her door, woke Taylor a few hours later.
"Sweetheart, are you up?" a gentle voice asked.
Taylor turned over and shut off her alarm. As for the alarm that would not go away with the touch of a finger, she mumbled something into half her pillow.
"Taylor?" her mother said.
With more effort than it normally took, Taylor raised her head.
"I'm up."
When the she heard the retreating footsteps, she sank her head back into the pillow's fluffy folds. A tired moan escaped her lips. The day was just starting and all she wanted was for it to end. Fighting against every part of her that told her to stay in bed, she got up. She vaguely tossed her blankets over her pillows in some vain attempt at neatness. Snatching up a pair of jeans and a shirt that wasn't too badly wrinkled she moved to the bathroom.
Showered and dressed, she inspected the damage of last night's events in the mirror. Luckily enough, the fist had managed to avoid her eye, but had done a lovely job of painting her cheek blue and purple. Even her more forgiving skin tone couldn't hide the bruise. She touched it gingerly, wincing as pain skidded through her face on contact.
Scowling at what this meant, she roughly tied her unruly black hair - streaked with dark purple in a moment of wild amusement - onto the top of her hair in a messy knot. Not caring to see what state she left her room in, she picked up her backpack and headed out the door. The house she walked through was well cared for and spoke of a homey place. Family photos lined the neutral toned walls and the carpets, though a bit worn, were spotless.
This had everything to do with Taylor's mother, who was a tax accountant that worked from home. A job Taylor had never minded until it meant she couldn't lie to her parents and spend the day at home sleeping off the late nights.
Slipping on a pair of sunglasses, in hopes of hiding the worse of the bruise, Taylor descended the stairs. She hoped to avoid her parents, but her route was not well planned and she ran into both of them as she passed the kitchen.
Standing side by side at the counter they struck an odd pair. Her father had skin darker than her own and stood a head taller than her mother. Not only was his height were he differed from his petite wife, but also her coloring. She had pale skin and blonde hair that was almost white. They were in their fifties and had wrinkles around their eyes and smiles that said they had lived every year to the fullest.
"Darling," her mother called out as Taylor passed.
She paused but didn't back up or turn to them. If she did they were see the bruise and ask questions she didn't know how to answer. Her secrets were something she had never shared. Not with them or anyone else.
"Don't you want breakfast?" her mother asked.
"I've decided its overrated."
Her parents shared a look at this.
"Why are you wearing sunglasses in the house?" her father asked, a cup of coffee poised in his hand.
Taylor said the first thing that popped into her head. A response she hoped would dispel them of asking anything more.
"I'm having a mood." Another look was shared, along with smiles that were half bewildered and half amused. "I'll see you later. Love you."
The final parting was echoed in kind and followed her as she walked through the house. At the front door, she turned back. No one was behind her. She opened it and then without walking through she closed it. Still checking that no one was there, she disappeared.
When the world formed once more around her, she was in a narrow alley that never seemed to have any light in it, no matter what the time. She strolled out and into the early morning sun. Across from her was a sight that made her thank the stars.
With a cup of hot coffee in hand, Taylor left the bursting Starbucks and headed down the street. Just one block over lay the high school. The campus took up a full block, manicured lawns surrounding the large three story building. A drive rounded the front of the building and cars- moving like projects on an assembling line-ran along it.
Already feeling done with the world for the day, Taylor entered the school grounds. Students collected in packs like wolves, vicious and exclusive. Their prey were the lone peers that managed to just be unique enough that the world didn't accept them yet.
Taylor was an enigma that defined what normal high schoolers should feel. Too tired to care, she was often seen as dispassionate and above-it-all. It was a reality she didn't care about. What the world thought of her meant little to nothing. At this point she was trying to get through high school without failing and find a career that allowed her the ability to spend her nights as she pleased without it taking a toll on her work.
As she moved through the halls, she barely noticed what was around her. Part of her gave a passing thought to a time when she had cared. She had wanted to know what this person thought of that person, and who was going out with whom. But with a head that was working out a plan to avoid being punched again, she pushed the odd moment of remembrance away.
She stepped into her classroom and sank into a chair in the back. Setting her coffee down on the desk, she slouched down and rested her head back on the chair. As students filled in the seats around her, the bell rang. Taylor was contemplating whether she could get away with falling asleep, when a chirper voice spoke up.
"Welcome back class! Let's get started."
There was no sleeping against a voice like that, though sleep seemed like a beautiful option.
***************
How Taylor managed to make it through her morning classes was a miracle to her, since she hardly remembered what took place in them. She figured her cup of coffee had been a source of her ability to remain upright. With the freedom of lunch time, she followed the crowd into the noisy cafeteria. At the center of the storm, Taylor found an empty table and pulled out a chair. Resting her feet on an opposite chair, she slid down and leaned her head back.
Taking out her sunglasses, she put them on. Her first period teacher had asked her to remove them and so had every other teacher, since as Taylor traveled from one room to the next she had put them back on. Despite her sleepy state, she had noticed the few eyes that latched on to her bruised cheek. But no one had said anything.
Now she welcomed back the darkened shade of the world. Half of her knew she should eat something and that was why she was in the cafeteria and not the library. But the other half of her that was battling exhaustion thought the two chairs felt quite comfortable and wanted to sleep. This internal debate was halted when a haughty voice spoke above her.
"Excuse me," the voice said, "but your sitting at my table."
Taylor didn't even move or deem to open her eyes, she felt it would be too much effort.
"No," she said simply.
"What did you just say?" the girl asked, in a tone that Taylor could imagine the girl's shock, indignation and the perfectly arched eyebrows.
"I said no," Taylor replied. "This table does not belong to you. It belongs to the school board, we merely use it during school activities such as lunch. So therefore it's not your table." She waved a careless hand out. "You can sit with me if you want. I promise you I will ignore whatever you decide to talk about with your friends."
When Taylor stopped talking, she became aware of a quiet that lay around the cafeteria. It was for this reason she finally opened her eyes. Standing in front of her was a girl with glossy black hair, almond shaped eyes, porcelain skin and beautiful features. Beside the girl were four other companions, all with the same attention to their personal appearance as the girl before her held.
Taylor gave a glance at the surrounding tables. For some reason, people were whispering and staring at her. This was a fact that she puzzled over for a total of three seconds and forgot. Deciding that it hadn't been worth opening her eyes, Taylor closed them and rested her head back.
"Are you going to continue standing there, or sit. My offer always stands."
Despite her eyes being closed, Taylor could imagine the simmering fury the girl was giving off. She knew that the girls were well known throughout the school. It was a fact that she dug up from her previous years there as well as the air of self importance they were giving off. Their names had been a piece of information that had been ejected from her mind, as well anything else not vital to her current situation. That meant that what she knew about the school year - that she was half way though - and the people around her was very little.
The volume of the cafeteria picked back up as the girls walked off. Taylor only knew this since she heard the clicking of heels and the prominent scent of perfume was no longer around her. As Taylor remained half asleep, she struggled over her next plan of action. So far in her late night altercations there had rarely been altercations. The mere shock of what she could do and the speed at which she could do it had been enough to stop any attacks from occurring. Also multiple pairs of handcuffs had come in handy.
Before the bell had time to ring and signal to Taylor that she would have to actually move again, a plan had come to her. It was a plan that had tapped into the small bit of knowledge about her surrounding peers that she still held. Standing, she looked around the chaotic scene. Her search ended at a table packed with guys in varsity jackets.
Shouldering her backpack, Taylor cut her way to the mass of testosterone. Her sights were set on a guy at the center with dark brown hair styled to a perfect mess, a face that had the jaw of greek god, green eyes that reminded Taylor of a dark forest and a physique that was honed by sports.
Laughter was like a cloud of smoke that hung around the table, irritating and always drawing people's attention. With an expression that was past caring, Taylor approached the group. A couple guys looked her way, eyeing her sunglasses then traveling down her slender frame. She ignored these looks.
"Dominic," she said.
Her intended target pulled his gaze away from his friend to look at her. He did it with an air that said she was barely worth his time. He didn't even answer, simply looked at her like that was enough of a response.
"I need to talk to you."
She nodded to the side and walked off, trusting him to follow. Despite the stuck up manner in which he had greeted, he actually stood and joined her. Crossing his arms, a move that displayed the size of his biceps, he leaned against the wall.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"I want you to teach me how to fight."
Taylor had no time for edging into the matter and figured she was better at hurling a question at someone than easing in.
Dominic raised an eyebrow.
"Is that so."
She had no response since she felt she didn't need to repeat herself, her straight forward gaze was sufficient.
"Why do you think I can teach you?" he asked.
"Everyone knows you've taken classes or whatever to help improve your response time on the field. It's the reason other guys have done it as well."
"Ah and since I'm the best you came to me." He smirked, but Taylor didn't react. Reacting meant energy. She would have to actually have energy to be able to react, which she didn't
"Why not just take a cute little self defense class at the women's gym?"
"I don't have time to waste on other's not understanding the lessons. I need private and I need to learn fast."
Dominic stretched, completely unconcerned with Taylor's need and seeming to be bored of conversation.
"Look, I don't have time to teach you some moves so you can beat up your ex-boyfriend or whatever. Find someone else to bother with your problem."
Dominic walked away and Taylor balled her fists. A spark of annoyance burned through her, pushing off her fatigue for a moment. As she plotted what to do next the bell rang. Chairs scraped against the ground as students rose and dispersed to fill their brains with information they would later drain from their heads.
Releasing her hands, Taylor moved to join the throng. She was halfway to the doors when a hand rested on her arm. Tensing, she turned around. A guy with tanned skin, a defined face, light blue eyes and short auburn hair was standing there. He stood a few inches taller than Taylor but something in his quiet countenance made her feel as if they were on equal footing.
"Hi," he said. "I'm Clint. We have Calculus together."
"Okay, hi Clint."
Clint stuffed his hands into his pockets as if he didn't know what to do with them.
"I couldn't help overhearing your conversation with Dominic," he said. "This might sound odd but I could teach you to fight. My family owns an mixed martial arts gym and I've been learning since I was little."
Taylor studied him then. Contrary to his unassuming air, he was fit. His arms were toned and the way he wore his t-shirt she could tell the rest of him matched.
"What's in it for you?" she asked, cocking her head.
He shrugged. "It sounded like you could use the help, that's all." His eyes flickered to the bruise that was just visible under her sunglasses. "Also I have four older sisters and I figured any girl who wants to be able to protect herself should be able to."
Taylor nodded. "Thanks, I appreciate that."
"So, you want to start after school?"
She didn't have to think about it, the pain in her face meant she had no other choice. "Sure."
The second bell rang, reminding them where they were and where they should be. With another nod, Clint walked off. Something in Taylor felt relieved, she would be better prepared next time. Now all she had to do was balance training with homework, eating, sleeping, breathing and saving the world.
************************
Heyo mayo!
So yup, you read that correctly, I'm writing a super hero book! I figured why not, I'm writing almost every other type of book, why not super heroes?
But as you can see it's going to be a different kind of super hero book. For one, she doesn't wear a costume, only jeans a hoodie and tennis shoes. Also more than being about how she's unstoppable it's about how she's not and how she has to figure out to be a super here as well as just human. I'm looking forward to it because it's a different take on supers.
So yeah, let me know if you would enjoy watch Taylor kick some booty as well as find sometime to sleep!
It's a vote. It's a comment. No, it's a follow!