Alfredo's
December 16, 13:55 EDT
"How is this place empty?" Kailey Brion breathed, looking up at the sparkling chandelier that hovered over their two-person table.
The rest of the lights in the restaurant were off, just illuminating around where Cyra sat with her mother. There was a bowl of breadsticks in the center of the table and salads before them, but Cyra already ravaged hers and stole all the croutons from her mother's plate.
"I asked Alfredo to clear the place because you had that face on like you were going to kill me when you asked me to go out to dinner with you," Cyra said, her eyes wide like saucers as they analyzed her mom's every move.
"You can do that?" her mom's mouth fell open. "That's amazing! You must cost this place a fortune eating here."
"I saved the place, like, eight times, so it pays off." Cyra shifted in her seat. "So . . . are you going to yell at me?"
"Why would I do that?"
Cyra eyes blinked like an owl's and she immediately knew whatever answer she chose would land her in a trap. Her mother's voice was abnormally light, her smile not quite reaching her eyes as she tilted her head. It reminded Cyra of a snake asking a mouse rather it would like to be eaten or killed them eaten. It was like a scene out of Saw.
Cyra answered by shoving a breadstick down her mouth, shrugging apologetically as she couldn't answer.
Kailey Brion waited patiently for her daughter to finish, pulling the basket away before Cyra could save herself with more garlic bread. "You make it seem like you're hiding something, Cyra."
"Pfft," Cyra waved her off. "Hiding something? Me? Never. Unless you mean the whole superhero thing, which was one moment, but nope, besides that, I'm completely out of secrets. Why? Anything you want to tell me, Mom? That I'm your favorite? How nice of you to finally say, I knew it all along—"
"Cyra." The Green Lantern's heart spiked and she imagined it felt like what a heart attack would.
"Alexa's pregnant." Cyra winced, her head falling into her hands as she refused to look up from her palm. She grumbled, "I am the worst."
"I knew it!" Kailey pounded her fist on the table. "I can't believe that little turd thought she could hide it from me! Ugh!" Kailey fell back in her chair, angrily scratching her knife into the linen tablecloth. "What am I going to do about her?"
"Please don't tell her I told you," Cyra rubbed her eyes roughly, causing light to dance in her skull. "Well, she'll already know. She'll probably strangle me in my sleep and hanging from the tree in the front yard as a warning."
Her mom snorted, an ugly sound that scrunched up her whole face—just like Cyra. "You're overreacting. She'd want to kill you while you're awake so you know it's happening."
"Thanks," Cyra said, sounding anything but grateful.
"When does the spaghetti come out? I'm starving."
For a long time after that the mother and daughter Brion duo feasted upon sauce, noodles, and meatballs. By the time Kailey's second helping was cleared, she was sure she had gained at least another ten pounds. All the while, Cyra was calculating how long it would take for her to get to serving number four.
"Cyra, I would like to talk to you about something," Kailey hummed as she wrapped some pasta around her fork. No amount of weight gain could stop her now.
"If you're going to make me spill all my siblings secrets, it's a no."
"That's something I'll come back to later." A smirk that could only be described as predatory lit up her mother's eyes. Cyra had no clue who often wore that same expression. "Any boys you like? What about that Charlie? He looked acceptable."
"Mom!"
"Sorry, honey. Any girls you like?"
"Mom!" This time it was a groan as Cyra's head fell back.
"I'm so sorry I want to be involved in your life—particularly who is hanging out with my daughter. Fine, then tell me, have you met Superman? What is he like up close? Is his jaw really that chiseled? How much can we lift? I swear his biceps are like the size of—"
Cyra talked with her mom, having to give her a rundown of most of the League members (mostly the burly men). Kailey was disappointed to hear that Superman was taken, but found Batman's, as she put it, "Dark and naughty" personna enticing. Once Kailey hit the topic of Hal, Cyra was quick to shut that party down.
Cyra told her about her friend who made the best cookies in the world and could change her looks on will, laughed about a strong boy whose favorite TV show was static, spoke in awe about a boy from the sea who led the team. Cyra told a story of a little bird who liked to tackle as he took down crime and a magician who could do a lot more than pull rabbits out of hats.
Kailey could invision another blonde girl in a green suit, this one with a bow and arrow who would easily cut down anyone for a friend. Cyra even went into two babysitters, one who was a trained ninja and another who was a human stuck in a body of metal. Then there was the hot-headed ginger archer who authority issues and a golden speedster with a flirtatious grin.
Kailey smiled softly, nodding along as Cyra threw up her hands, her eyes dancing with fire as her words crackled in the air like whips.
Cyra spend noticeable time on a certain ginger speedster.
"He has freckles and a dumb annoying smile that he uses whenever he pokes at me, and he's a complete flirt who knows he sucks at it, but that never stops him from trying his 'skills' on anything with legs. He's a speedster who can turn into a blur and pick up the wind around you. He has this contagious laugh and even though his jokes aren't nearly as funny as mine, they can hold up alright.
"He's been a sidekick longer than me, but I'd be surprised if he isn't taken into the Justice League soon. He does all the missions and you can tell he actually believes in them, Mom. Sure, I can yell my head off to Batman about us saving someone who doesn't deserve it or having to trek through miles of swamps to get to some weird location, but he doesn't. Well, he complains a lot, but he'd never stop. He fights the good fight, every time, and the strange thing is, no matter how dark and awful things are going—he never doubts the mission."
"It sounds like you like this boy a lot," Kailey said, her voice even.
"He's one of my best friends," Cyra admitted, tugging at the seams of the tablecloth. "He's loyal to me—all of us, and I know he'd give anything for us. Even when he's mad or in the ruts, he's always so determined . . . and I learned how to be a hero for watching him—all of them, really."
Cyra sighed. "Kaldur taught me how to be patient—that I don't always have to be the first one on the battlefield. M'gann gave me kindness, and I think I'm learning some of it from her. She can always defuse a problem with cookies," Cyra laughed, the sound scratching up her throat. She went on anyways, "Connor showed me what could happen if my anger gets away from me and how much a person can grow—even if they started out in a literal pod. I think Robin handed me some of my innocence back, and I know that kid's life hasn't been a walk in the park.
"Zatanna," Cyra gulped, "she moved on, and I think I can too because of her." Her eyes flickered up at her mother, whose face was solemn. "Artemis is tough and determined, but she has trust issues, and watching her, I learned to open up to my teammates. I can trust them all with my life."
Cyra sighed as if a large weight had been taking off her shoulders. She shook her head before adding in a growl, "Except for Red Arrow. That guy's a complete douche."
The pair snickered together as their plates were cleared, replaced by a bowl of ice cream that they shared.
"This speedster . . . you two dating? If so, I want to meet him to make sure he's as great as he sounds. If he can survive walking through out house, he can survive anything," Kailey chuckled.
Cyra's smile turned bitter, shaking her head. "We're not. A few weeks ago we got in a fight—mostly my fault—over something so stupid it shouldn't have happened." Cyra wrapped a strand of her hair around her finger before letting it go limp. "He won't even answer my texts."
"Did you try calling him?" her mom asked.
"Did I try what?"
Kailey sighed. "Kids theses days," she shook her head. "Have you tried actually going up and talking to him, sweetie?"
"No." Cyra's face scrunched up in confusion. "He won't even stay in the same room with me long enough for me to talk to him. He just speeds away."
"If you love this boy so much, you should find him and apologize, even if you don't mean it."
"Woah, woah," Cyra put her hands up. Her words echoed Charlie's, "Who said anything about love?"
"You didn't. But it's written all over your face," Kailey said, her eyes emitting soft hugs. "Now apologize. It shouldn't matter about your own opinions, because if you care about someone that much, you will be able to put everything to the side for them."
"When have you become such a wise old woman?" Cyra jokes, her ribs coming down on her heart, Cyra feeling her pulse reverberate throughout her whole body.
"Because you learn from experience." Kailey's smile turned sad. She reached across the table to clasp her hand over Cyra's. "I learned that from your father."
Cyra's voice clogged up in her throat like a faulty pipe. "I barely remember him," she said, slightly above a whisper.
"Maybe that's a good thing."
They lapsed into silence before Cyra slapped her head, "Hello, Megan!"
Kailey narrowed her eyes, wondering if that mental institution would take walk-ins.
"Green Lantern, my mentor, he taught me everything. He grew my willpower up from the dirt and gave me a cause. I guess that's all I really wanted—a cause that I can put myself into—mind, body, and soul. He took me to the far corners of the galaxy and I'm better because of it." Cyra looked up from her hands, her eyes far away. "Hal is the one who saved me."
Mount Justice
December 17, 18:36 EDT
Robin cackled as he hit Cyra's knight, causing it to fly across the room, hitting the wall. "Check!"
Cyra only looked up at him, smirking. Robin's eyes instantly shot down to the board, roaming it, only to fall back with a groan.
He wouldn't even look up from his hand to see his King was surrounded on all sides, no move to free himself from his inevitable defeat.
Zatanna wrote another line under CYRA on her piece of paper. "That's a five to one score. Maybe if you play another four games and Robin wins every one of them, he can catch up."
The two girls snickered as Robin shook his head. Cyra could tell he was glaring underneath his mask. "How do you keep doing that?"
Cyra shrugged. "I learn from the best I guess."
"Let's pretend that isn't vague at all," Zatanna said, putting her paper down and clasping her hands in her lap. "Cyra, you seem upset."
"How do you know that?" Cyra snapped.
"Because you walked in here and said, 'I think I'm upset, let's play some chess'."
Cyra rubbed her chin. "Now, are you sure that was me? You know you can't ever believe anything I say—I'm a pathological liar."
"Just spit it out already, Cyra," Robin grumbled. "It may surprise you, but we might be able to help you."
"That would be a surprise, actually," Cyra sassed. "What do you two younglings know about romance?"
Cyra instantly regretted her words and wished it was her tongue that got blown off instead of her ear.
"What?" Zatanna's eyes popped out of her head. "Romance? You?" She smirked slyly. "Is it Charlie or Wally?"
"Wally," Robin coughed chalantly.
Cyra tapped her nose once sadly. "Bingo."
"Is he still mad at you about the whole Artemis thing?" Robin asked.
Cyra nodded.
"Then go and make up with him," Zatanna said.
"It's not that easy," Cyra threw her hands up."
"Uh, yeah it is," Robin said. "It's not rocket science."
"I understand rocket science, I don't understand this," Cyra groaned. "I know! I plan to apologize I just don't know how."
"Just walk up to him and say, 'I'm sorry'?" Zatanna offered.
"No, that's too small, insignificant. It has to be big, he had to see my apology—it's the Brion way. The bigger the event the better the apology will be!" Cyra pouted. "I just don't know what I should do."
"Ask him to homecoming," Robin shrugged.
"Homecoming was ages ago," Cyra scoffed.
"Not for Wally it's not. He was just talking about this yesterday, didn't you hear?" Zatanna tilted her head.
"Yesterday he was still shunning me," Cyra grumbled. A slow smirk grew on her face. "That's . . . actually not a bad idea! You guys rock—except at chess," Cyra yelled as she jumped up, her feet sliding as she ran down the halls of Mount Justice.
Cyra almost ran into Artemis, the other blonde managing to put her hands up and yell at her to slow down before they collided.
"What are you rushing off too?" Artemis asked. The archer hasn't been seen a lot around the Cave the next week or so after the mission and has finally been making her appearances more regularly. She was on Wally's shun list too.
"I have to go make it up to Wally," Cyra said. She patted Artemis's shoulder once a guilty look flashed across, gone as quick as it had come. "Don't worry, you're secrets are yours. No one, not even Wally, is going to try and force them out of you."
Artemis blinked in shock. "You mean, you don't think I was just being insecure about wanting to catch Cheshire on my own?"
"It's like you don't know me at all!" she winked, tapping her temple. "I don't think. Plus, I trust you."
Cyra smiled before jogging to the Zeta Tubes.
The West Household
December 18, 14:09 EDT
Wally grumbled as he heard a knock on the door, rolling off the comfort of his couch and distancing himself from his bag of potato chips. The knocking only increased in it's tempo.
"I'm coming!" Wally shouted. "Calm down!"
Wally threw open the door, only to roll his eyes and instantly close it if it wasn't for Cyra's shoe that stopped it.
"What do you want?" Wally huffed. "Here to plead for Artemis's innocence again? Because I don't want to hear it."
Cyra struggled to keep the door cracked open the slightest bit so Wally could still hear her. "No, I'm here to apologize."
Wally paused in his wrestling with the door. "Really? You? Apologize?" Wally laughed dryly. "This is a trick, isn't it?"
"No tricks," Cyra promised. "Just open the dang door already."
Wally's eyes narrowed as he thought it over. After a long moment that made Cyra's foot tap, he walked back into the kitchen. Cyra let herself in, her eyes on Wally's tense back and she closed the door behind her before following him.
The fridge door swung open and Wally crouched down, searching through it but Cyra was mostly sure it was because he didn't want to look at her.
"Wally . . ." Cyra began.
"That doesn't sound like an apology," he said, his head deep in the freezer.
Cyra understood that this was the best audience she was going to get with the stubborn speedster. "I'm sorry, Wally. Really, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings over that."
" . . . go on."
Cyra walked up closer behind the ginger, the long dark trench coat she was wearing brushing against the ground as she had it tied tightly around her waist. "I don't think you're right, and I don't think Artemis is wrong either, but I'm sticking with Artemis, and it has nothing to do with you. I trust my friend, but I'm putting all that to the side. My opinions are out the window and I should have just comforted you about it. I throw out all my thoughts and opinions, but never my loyalties—because all of those belong to you."
Wally turned around. He seemed to struggle getting the words out, sniffling, "You mean that?"
Cyra chuckled, nodding, "Yeah, I really do."
His lips curled upwards despite how hard he was trying to fight it as he slid a hand over his eye. His mouth opened and closed like a fish before he gave up all together and just wrapped Cyra in a bear hug.
"You have no idea how hard it was for me to ignore you," Wally murmured into Cyra's hair.
"Probably just as hard as it was for me to be ignored," Cyra said.
Wally pulled away. "I'm sorry about—"
Cyra held up her hand. "I'm the one who had to apologize, and I did. We're clear now—for the most part."
"For the most part?" Wally raised an eyebrow curiously. He poked her teasingly, "What are you planning, Cyra Brion?"
Cyra sighed, taking a step back as she untied her trench coat and dropping it to the floor.
Wally's jaw slacked. "I was expecting something a little different when it came off, but this is great too."
Cyra spun, her red and yellow plaid dress blowing out around her thighs. "You like it?"
Wally's throat bobbed up and down. "Uh," he drew out for a while before Cyra slapped him lightly on the face. Wally shook off whatever minor brain fry he was having, his ears turning pink. He finally found the words, "You take my breath away."
"I do that every other day, I meant with the dress," Cyra jokes. "Look familiar?"
Wally squinted. "Oh yeah! Superman colors right?"
Cyra snorted and Wally laughed before playing his arm around her shoulders. "It's a nice surprise . . . but why?"
"Do you have a suit?" Cyra asked suddenly.
"Yeah, upstairs, why?"
Cyra shrugged of his shoulder, dropping down to one knee before him. She gentle took his hand in hers, wiping an invisible tear from her cheek. "Wally West, I heard someone doesn't have a homecoming date, and I want to ask you. Will you allow me to escort you to this dumb and socially toxic dance?"
Wally couldn't stop grinning. "Well . . . when you ask me like that how can I say no?"
"Exactly." Wally helped Cyra to her feet, their fingers locking together.
"I think I have a tie to match," he winked, and Cyra tilted her head. Wally let go and began to bound up the stairs. "The dance is at eight, so be here a little before then and I'll take you, okay? I have to get ready. And Cyra—" Wally stopped at the edge of the stairs. "—This is the best apology ever! I can't wait till we crash this thing."
Cyra moved to the door. "Great minds think alike."
The West Household
December 18, 17:59 EDT
"When I said, 'a little bit earlier' I didn't mean one minute earlier," Wally shook his head, feigning disappointment.
The blonde was breathing heavily, one arm supporting herself on the frame to Wally's house door. "King Shark was in Coast City and I just took care of it ten minutes ago before having to rush here," she explained.
Cyra's fishtail braid M'gann gave her, was now ironic as it was wet with a sea breeze and slightly disheveled from King Shark trying to bite her head off while she tried to move him away from terrorizing a beach on a college weekend.
"You smell like salt," Wally scrunched up his nose.
Cyra rolled her eyes, before catching sight of Wally's tie and laughing. She plucked at the silky material. "A Green Lantern tie? Where'd you even get one of those?"
"I absolutely didn't run through every merchandise store in Coast City to look for it or anything," Wally shook his head. "No way I did that."
Cyra grinned, showing her sparkling teeth. "I love it."
Wally winked, presenting his arm. "I knew you would."
Cyra looped her arm through his as they walked in sync down his smooth wooden porch, over the neighbors lawn like rebels and began the long walk to his school.
By the time they arrived, it was about an hour into the party, but theirs started on their walk as they joked and laughed the whole way there. The gymnasium was decorated with multi-colored streamers and balloons hanging limply from the ceiling and rolling about the floor.
Teenagers danced around, flashing with the ever-changing lights as the DJ bounced on his heels in front of a large set of speakers. He had sunglasses on and large headphones and Cyra would be surprised if he could hear the fire alarm through those bulky things.
"You were right," Cyra said, grinning happily. "This is awful."
"I know right? Good thing we arrived to spice up the party!"
Cyra snorted. "Yeah, because you really know how to party it up, West."
"That's why you're here to teach me, Brion," Wally mocked.
He grabbed her hands, yanking her into the middle of the dance floor and spinning them in a fast, tight circle, causing Cyra's braid to smack her in the face. Fast, thumping music roared in their ears. Their bodies bounced together with the other students in a sea of song.
"First step is don't throw me around. Second is to follow my lead," Cyra said pointedly, twisting her hold on Wally's shoulders as she led their feet.
"Yes, ma'am!" Wally saluted, smiling down at his feet. "I forgot how you were a ballerina in a past life."
"Oh, yeah, that was a long time ago though, I barely remember. But anyone at the Cave can tell you I'm a great dancer."
"Prove it," Wally challenged.
Cyra smirked, pivoting to spin Wally, having to jump to get his tall body under her arm, ending the move by tripping into Wally's chest. The ginger laughed, tightening his arms around her as they hugged like that, swaying to the dubstep playing in the background.
They were a rock sticking out of a flowing river compared to the other teenagers who stomped their feet and spun around, while they slowly stepped back and forth with each other, doing nothing that could be called a dance.
They spun in a quick circle, Wally throwing his head back in aughter. If you looked closely they blurred a little bit too much for it to be regular quickness. Cyra's head spun before he stopped, snickering at the green rising to her cheeks. People stared, maybe enviously as Cyra liked to believe, or in awe like Wallly would have liked. Or maybe because they were both snorting like pigs in the mud.
"For somone who experiences intergalactic space travel, you don't look so good."
"For someone as stupid as you, I'm surprised you got a date," Cyra mocked.
Wally quickly bopped her nose with the tip of his finger. "That makes you the lucky one."
Cyra pulled away. "I'm going to go get a drink."
Wally, his head bouncing as he shouted above the music, "Get me one!"
Shaking her head, Cyra denied stubbornly as Wally met with a few of his friends, talking with themloudly over the music, motioning to Cyra quite a few times. Cyra scoffed and continued on, going to a crimson punch bowl and pouring some into a cup before downing it . . . then another. Cyra nodded her head in agreement as she poured a second one for Wally and a third for herself.
"Hey, you're from another school, aren't you?" Cyra turned around to see a brunette in a black dress, curling a strand of hair around her finger. She was a good few inches taller than even Wally with midnight skin.
"Yours truly." Cyra did a little bow. She leaned coolly against the table. "What's up?"
"Are you here with Wally West?" she asked bluntly. Cyra was instantly on the offense, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.
"And if I was?" Cyra challenged darkly.
The girl put her hands up, her dark eyes widened. "Oh no, I didn't mean it like a bad thing or anything! I was just wondering if you were availible." Then the girl winked.
Cyra's mouth fell open into a smile, shocked and delighted at the same time. Her eyes flickered back to Wally before she sighed. "I think I'll pass."
Cyra turned, cups in hand, gulping down one loudly. The girl called out from behind her back, "My name is Jamie if you ever change your mind! Jamie Hunt! The night is still young!"
"It sure it!" Cyra agreed. "And I'm Brion, Cyra Brion."
Cyra managed to wrestle through the crowd, where Wally was conversing with three of his friends, all boys, two wearinbg bulky glasses and the other with a chipped tooth that stuck cutely out of his top lip.
"Did you drink the whole punch bowl while you were there?" Wally joked.
"Almost, but it took awhile. Had to fight off the vixens, if you know what I mean."
"Guys, this is Cyra," Wally introduced, swiping the cup from Cyra's hands as she was abut to drink the punch she had intended for him. She glared at him out of the corner of her eyes before her face flashed to a smirk, waving at the boys. "Cyra, this is Logan, Maeve, and Killian. Their cool."
"It's very nice to meet you," Maeve said, grinning with his crooked tooth. "I thought Wally was making stuff up when he said he brought a date."
"Yeah," Logan accepted. "How'd he get a fish like you?"
"Cyra asked me out," Wally stated smugly.
Cyra sighed. "I was forced at gunpoint, so it doesn't count."
The boys collapsed in laughter, all except Wally, who scowled at her. Cyra ignored his heated gaze, her smirk flittering across her features, eyes bright with mischief.
"I see why now," Maeve nodded to Wally, his eyes appreciatively on Cyra.
"Alright, I'm done with you losers," Wally grumbled, waving his hand at them, brushing them off like flies. The other boys booed.
"Cool, see you later," Cyra shrugged innocently.
Wally laughed dryly, grabbing her arm and yanking her back into the mddle of the dance floor. "Oh, shut up and dance with me, GL."
"Well, when you ask me like that KF, I just can't say no."
They danced, bumping into other dancers, who all glared and snapped at them. THey made it their mission, keeping opint counts of how many people they could "accidentally" step on, aiming for the jerks in the back that stank like smoke and girls who snapped at others a little too often. Cyra was winning--Wally thought otherwise, but that was of no one's concern
"As fun as this is," Wally said, Cyra silently agreeing, her feet sore from grooving, "I remember saying we should crash it."
"You were being serious?" Cyra asked, shocked, but not against the idea by any means.
"Cyra," Wally tsked, "I'm always serious."
Cyra snorted.
"Wait here," Wally said before disappearing off into the crowd. It only took a few measly seconds till Wally was back in front of her, his hair slightly tousled from the wind.
"The coast is clear, come on." Wally grabbed Cyra's hand, yanking her through the crowd. She yelled questions above the music, but the words were either lost before they reached the speedster's ears or he was pointedly ignoring her.
Wally shushed her even though Cyra wasn't talking, earning a glare, as they crouched down near the DJ stand, music playing off an iPod, the discs on the turntables obviously all for show. The DJ must have gone off to the bathroom, dozens of water bottles in the mini trash cans underneath the booth.
"So, my plan is—"
"We're going to sabotage the music by putting on What's New Pussycat on repeat," Cyra finished with a smirk.
Wally's eyes shined like billions of stars which Cyra had seen so many times before as he gazed at her. "You know me so well."
They fist bumped, and once the close was clear, they moved in like a well-trained pack of wolves with one goal on their mind—
Destroy.
Together, Cyra kept watch, faced towards the bathrooms and blocking Wally from view just in case the DJ happened to get back as Wally slid his finger along the screen, searching for their death march.
"He's coming," Cyra hissed as she spotted the shaggy DJ approaching, wiping his hands on the seat of his jeans.
"Done!" Wally declared right as the speakers blared:
"WHAT'S NEW PUSSYCAT!"
"Hey! What're you two doing?" the DJ shouted, running over as his pants threatened to fall down in his loose yellow belt.
"Gotta run!" Wally announced, grabbing Cyra's hand.
Everyone knew what was going on at this point. Some cried in fear and others cheered at the anarchy caused. They were all looking around, pointing at the duo. Cyra was surprised there wasn't a riot.
The fresh night air felt great inflating Cyra's lungs as her and Wally sprinted, hand in hand, over the sidewalk of the school, eventually stopping underneath the shadow of the street lights, slowing to a walk. Their cheeks were rosy and chest rising and falling quickly, less from the run and more from the adrenaline.
"How long did you put in on for?" Cyra asked.
"Only about . . . a hundred-and-one times."
Sharing a look, they laughed.
Their fingers locked together—stuck in a silent agreement—Wally jokingly swinging their arms back and forth, doing a little skip and tapping his heels together.
"You're a dork," Cyra scoffed.
Wally leaned in, licking his bottom lip. "And you love it."
"Shut up," Cyra chuckled, pushing him away with one hand but he didn't get very far in her grip. "We all know you're the lovesick puppy."
"I'm not the one who came begging for some of my valuable attention," Wally taunted.
Cyra shook her head. "Whenever I try to be nice you are so ungrateful."
Wally pouted, leaning into her side. "You know I always love to have you around. Making it look like I have a girlfriend will attract better options."
Cyra gasped, offended on a personal level. "You jerk, you know I'm the best option you have."
Wally smiled. He wasn't going to say it out loud though and inflate the Green Lantern's ego anymore.
Cyra felt a buzz in her pocket and pulled out her phone. "It's getting late and my sister is freaking out again. I should get going." She paused in her steps, turning to Wally, "I hope I didn't completely ruin your chances of being invited to another dance."
"Oh, you totally did, but I'm glad. Now, where's my goodnight kiss?"
Wally's eyes blinked open as Cyra pressed her soft lips to his. Wally get the hint, his eyes fluttering closed.
The night air was crisp but Cyra was on fire against his mouth, giving Wally a bubbly pop in his chest that made him want to laugh aloud. His thumb caressed her pale cheek, elated.
Cyra was on her tippy toes to reach up to him, dozens of stars blowing up in her mind as the space around them seemed to disappear—just the two of them for these sacred moments—the only two people in the Universe as far as she was concerned.
The kiss ended far too quickly for either of their liking as Cyra pulled away.
"Night, Wally. See you at the Cave."
And with that, Cyra was already gone.
"Goodnight, Cyra," Wally said, but the girl herself wasn't around to hear it.
Coast City
December 18, 19:33 EDT
While Cyra and Wally were ruining high schools supposed 'best night of their lives', Charlie was having a difficult time trying to dig a hole big enough for what looked to be a UFO.
Charlie grunted, throwing dirt over his back with a long red shovel. He had ditched his shirt long ago, sweat now glistening on his chest, mixed with dirt and the smell of manure. His hair was stained with mud and despite his intense strength, the workload was beginning to get to him.
The hole was fifteen feet wide in every direction and about eight feet deep—making a wide crater in the ground. He still had four feet to go before it would be able to fit the large metal disk into it.
The steel sparkling in the moonlight, dents all over from the hard ride down, landing in the middle of a small, undocumented pool off the coast behind all the fancy beach houses. All the water was evaporated on landing. It left a start for Charlie's hole, but was slick with mud, causing Charlie to slide onto his butt on more than one occasion.
After he dug out another few feet of dirt, he stood, panting.
Enveloped in a fury glow, he rose from the hole. He swiped his hand, the UFO creaking as it was pushed by a large hand into its new resting place. It threw up dust, causing Charlie's eyes to sting, but once the smoke settled, he could make out the dim pulsing light in the center of the circle.
Now Charlie began to shovel all the dirt he worked so hard to remove back into the hole.
Eventually, after many hours and the job was done, Charlie licked some of the sweat off with his damp T-shirt before tapping his ring multiple times, saying into it, "Call him."
The ring buzzed, needing no more information. Charlie shifted on his feet after a few minutes, afraid his mentor wouldn't answer until his cracking voice answered over the line, "Is the job done?"
"Yes, sir."
"Can you see any of it? The glow?"
"No, sir, it's completely covered. Eleven feet down, just like you said."
A breath of relief came staticy over the comms. "Good, you finally did something right."
Charlie's shoulders sagged, a graceful smile pulling his lips. "Thanks, sir."
"Don't get too thankful yet," the voice on the other side warned. "The time is approaching. Is she ready?"
"Yes, sir, completely oblivious as always. This should be a piece of cake."
"Why should I care about some pathetic human dessert?" his mentor snapped.
"No, sir, it's a meta—"
"I could not care less," he interrupted. "The plan is in order and you have completed your part for now. We are close, Char-Lee. Very close—everything we worked for in this moment will pass on for generations and cause a ripple in the seas so strong it will shake the Green Lantern Corps very fondation."
A glow a pride ignited in Charlie's chest. Every lie that slithered from his mouth and every ache of his muscles was becoming worthful in this moment. Humorous amber eyes were forgotten.
Charlie did a double take as his eyes caught on his football jersey—'ol number nine—which laid, discarded, in the grass so Charlie could save it from the mud bath. His gut swirled suddenly.
"Sir," Charlie dared to interrupt. "What happens after?"
"We've went over this," the voice said, high off his close victory to be particularly picky. "We will continue more missions, grow a group, fight the Corps until there is nothing left and take the Battery as our own. This has already been discussed."
Charlie struggled to steady the thumping beat in his chest. He waited so long that his mentor's voice buzzed in his ear as he tried to grasp his words.
"Sir," Charlie cut into whatever his mentor was saying, "what happens to Earth?"
"Well, I'm sure nothing would change much, why?"
"What if . . . what if we stayed?"
The voice was dead silent on the other end and despite the creeping feeling of pure ice in Charlie's spine, he went on, "Earth is a wonderful place. This place affects so much of the Universe already with a lot of untapped resources that could be beneficial to our cause. I don't see why we couldn't stay here to plan, at least for a while."
Seconds turned into a full minute. All the while Charlie was regretting ever speaking, but it was far too late to blame it on bad reception.
Finally, darkly, "You've gotten attached."
"No, sir, I would never—"
"I don't care. Whatever these feelings you have to this planet must be severed." Sending lightning through Charlie's body, he chuckled, "There is no way they would ever except you after what is to happen anyways, so I should not worry. Cut those ties, I want no hesitation when the time comes. I will be landing planetside in a few days. Be ready. This is what you've been training for. The reckoning is coming—and you're the reason why."
Before Charlie could respond, the ring dimmed back to its normal angry color, the connection cut. Charlie was shocked to find a pang in his chest despite his mentor's praise.
Charlie sighed, his chin hitting his hard chest, defeated.
His phone began to vibrate in his pocket and Charlie fished it out to see VEGA flashing across the screen. He slid it open, his fingers slipping on his 1234 code a couple of times until unlocking the cellphone. He flipped the screen to read the text:
YO! AFTER PARTY WAS GREAT!! KINDA CRAZY IF YOU REMEMBER ;) THERE'S ANOTHER ONE AT LINCOLN'S. I'LL TEXT YOU ADDRESS! YOU BETTER SHOW UP DUDE, YA PARTY ANIMAL ;PPPP!!!!
Charlie's tongue ran across his lip thoughtfully, his mentors words bouncing along in his skull—branding themselves into Charlie's mind like a piece of cattle. Twitching, his thumb slid across, deleting the text.
His jaw clenched and with all his strength, he threw the shiny screen, watching it fly, growing into a dot in the sky and disappearing.
Even then it wasn't enough. He let out a roar, a spark of red breaking out from his body like a nuclear blast.
A tree burned freely, the pine needles smoking and the branch falling as a crisp lump to the ground. Charlie's eyes were like miniature rooms of Hell.
Rip the band aids off fast, he remembered his coach once saying. So then they only hurt for a little bit.
Charlie turned and walked away from the hole he once sweat over.
It was time to tear off those band aids. Maybe it would make the sting hurt less.
So far, it didn't seem to be working.