My apartment was locked.
This was no surprise, really, considering that Madison was paranoid about leaving it unlocked even when we were home. I guess she had a thing with burglars or something, although we've never been robbed. No one in the building has been. We all respect each other, except for the odd woman on the fifth floor who always has her television blaring and doesn't keep the many men and women she brings over a secret. Sometimes I do wish the building was more soundproof.
I fumbled in my pocket for my keys, and hastily unlocked the door with my wet fingers. I was careful not to touch the door, so Nitara pushed it open for me. I used my elbow to try and find the light switch on the wall to my left, and after bumping a picture frame a few times, I successfully turned on the bare lightbulb attached to the ceiling and the connected ornate lamp in the corner of the kitchenette.
The navy walls of my apartment were illuminated, and I heard a thump come from my bedroom followed by four feet tapping the floor. I could hear each step individually, going tap tap tap until Chewie waltzed around from behind the couch and sat in front of his food bowl, waiting for his dinner which he knew was late.
"I'll feed him," Nitara said, just as I opened the cupboard under the sink that we kept his diet food in. "You go to the bathroom and clean yourself up."
I wasn't going to argue with Nitara's proposition. Not only was I covered in New York's signature city street dust, but blood still soaked my shirt, and I could feel the stain getting larger.
I tried to crouch as I walked to feel better about it, with my lower arm clenched between my stomach and my chest. This felt like reverse period cramps. I didn't bother closing the bathroom door, but I did kick the bath mat away from the middle of the small room so I wouldn't stain it. Madison would go nuts if I did- if there was one thing my sister liked, it was a quality bath mat and I didn't want to ruin the only one in our household.
I heard kibble tumble into Chewie's bowl from the main room, accompanied by a happy meow as I peeled off my shirt. Nitara could walk in any second, but I didn't care. She has already seen my back.
I stood in front of the cabinet mirror, blood already having found its way to the black marble floor beneath me. My stomach was entirely red, but I could see a deep scarlet line running parallel to my waist that told me the gash was not as bad as it appeared to be at a first glance.
I sacrificed a worn facecloth off the clean rack that would probably never become clean again from the stains. I ran it under the tap, though through the running water I heard Nitara turn on the television from the other room. Once the cloth was wet, I wrong it out and wiped the blood from my skin, which quickly transmitted from me to the fabric. I was right about the cut- it was only three or so inches wide, and thin.
Reluctantly, I took another face cloth that was dry and held it to my stomach to stop any more bleeding and walked into the main room, closing the curtains as my first course of action. I didn't need anybody looking through the window and seeing a) my stomach bleeding, or b) my purple back, or c) me topless in general.
Nitara was on the couch, watching the news. I knew I shouldn't have been surprised when on the screen was the exact setting from earlier tonight- the alley, dark and misty as we left it- except there was no Vulture.
I rushed over to the back of the couch, eyes fixated on the screen. "Do you think they got him?"
"Quiet," Nitara hushed, turning the volume up with the remote. There was an interviewer on the screen, holding a microphone to a woman. The woman, who we had already met as she was cornered by Vulture.
"It was insane," the woman described. "I tried to call the police, but as soon as I described him, he destroyed my phone. I couldn't even say my location.
"Until another girl called- her friend, she could- I don't believe what I even saw. Just streaks of this violet lightning, coming from her back, and somehow it shut him down."
The interviewer stood without words for a moment, then said, "Iconic. It sounds like wherever she is, we'd like to find her. Folks, this is the latest on the Vulture, so he called himself, before..." the interviewer turned to the woman.
"Sparking and flying away," she described. "There was just an initial shock, and then the girls left, I escaped... this whole night is just one big nightmare. I know it's not agreed upon everywhere... but I'm glad there are heroes in this city, and here in Queens."
The camera turned to the left, assessing the police and the rest of the scene, where some officers stood talking to some detectives. A figure in a dark jacket and a hand in front of their face dashed behind an unmarked car, and disappeared when the car took off not four seconds later.
"Wack," Nitara said.
"Wait," I said, running around the couch. "Rewind it. That person..."
Nitara used the remote to go back about fifteen seconds, and we waited for the figure to move again. "There!"
Nitara jolted when I said that and slammed the pause button, freezing the figure in the middle of the screen, unblocked by nothing but their hand. I moved closer to the screen, inspecting what I thought I saw the first time.
"Come here," I said to Nitara. "Do you see the ring?"
On the hand that covered the face of the anonymous, was a strawberry red ring on the middle finger. "Madison has a ring like that. I gave it to her years ago. It's her birthday month. Garnet coloured."
The individual (Madison?) had their hood up, and the pure black fabric hid any other identifiable features except for complexion. "Keep it on pause," I said, a growing feeling expanding through my chest. "I'm going to see if the ring is here."
Could that have actually been Madison? She got called in to work over an hour ago. If that were her, I had no clue what she would be doing at a crime scene. Detectives weren't normally fussy with their identities.
I opened the door to my sister's room, which was only illuminated by the moonlight. I dashed to her nightstand, where all her jewellery was kept. I tore her drawer open, and shuffled through her various accessories- mom's old necklace, earrings from a couple boyfriends ago, old bead bracelets - but no red ring.
Disappointed, I bit my cheek, stood up and pulled open her thick green curtains covering her window. I don't know what I was expecting- Madison on the sidewalk maybe, just coming home. But the street was as empty as our bank accounts on Wednesdays.
I left her room the way I found it, with Nitara looking eagerly at me. "Nothing."
My best friend grinned. "I told you! That's her! She's a spy, or something, I don't know-"
"Exactly," I said. "We don't know. I'll ask her when she gets home. Red garnet rings... aren't that rare. Lots of people are born in January. Hell, your sun sign is Aquarius."
Nitara rolled her eyes. "Don't remind me."
I plopped down onto the couch, next to Nitara. "She called us heroes."
My mind swept to when Nitara spotted Spider-Man on the streets, and how my interest spiked only after I saw him. Just an individual, running around Queens helping people out. He was a hero.
Could I be a hero, too?
Then I thought about other heroes. Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, Black Widow, Bruce Banner... and the wreckage they had dawned upon my city. Dawned upon me. Labelling them as heroes never brought my dad back.
"Do you think you're one?"
I waited a minute before answering, even though I knew the answer. "I think I could be."
Did heroes seek revenge? Because that's what I wanted just as much as helping people. What I really wanted to be was blocked by the hatred that surrounded Vulture. I just didn't know if that hatred was because of what he did to me, or what he could do to other people. Like that woman.
My mind was playing tug of war, and I didn't know what side would win. I didn't even know what side was right. Help people, or get closure? I suppose I could do both, but I knew that's not what a real hero would do. Tonight, if I were faced with the option, would I have saved the woman or killed Vulture?
A cold sweat came over me and my stomach became uneasy, not from my wound. I had just considered killing a man. Not very heroic of me.
Nitara kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet under her legs. "Okay, hero. You need, like, a cool name or something."
I turned to Nitara. "What?"
"A name," she repeated, although I wanted clarification on the "hero" part. "If we don't come up with one, the media will. And what if it sucks? 'Lightning girl strikes again!' 'The Zap saves the day!' Is that what you want? Like, how did Spider-Man get his name? Media, probably. Super unoriginal. I bet they held a gun to a writer's head and gave them five seconds to come up with a title."
"I don't know," I said. "Whatever they can come up with is probably better than what I've got."
Nitara snorted and pressed play on the television, as we rewatched the end of the interview. "Okay, Zap."
"...There was just an initial shock, and then the girls left, I escaped... this whole night is just one big nightmare. I know-"
Nitara pauses it again, her eyes lighting up.
"What?" I said. "Let us watch the whole thing, huh?"
Nitara looked at me like I was an idiot. "Did you not listen?"
I gave her a puzzled look.
"Initial shock... this whole night... nightmare," Nitara cried, fizzing with enthusiasm. "Nightmare! Isn't that good? Doesn't it, like, spike a bit of fear into your chest, but it's followed with familiarity so you know everything will turn out right? I don't know about you... but I think it clicks."
I replayed the word again in my head. Nightmare. And again. The Nightmare. Oh hey, it's Nightmare again. Did you see Nightmare? Nightmare killed the Vulture. He's dead... because of Nightmare." Again and again until it didn't even sound like a word anymore. I tried to differentiate "Nightmare" from "Vulture" as to who was good or bad. My name had kind of a dark ring to it, but Nitara was right. I'm sure the media could come up with much worse.
"Okay." I grinned. "Nightmare it is."
Nitara jumped up from the couch. "Alright, Nightmare. First order of business, let's get you a shirt, yeah?"
***
Nitara was laying on the extra sleeping bag I had in my closet for occasions like this, and I was on my tiny twin bed covered in a quilt and a fresh tank top from my closet that didn't stick to the gauze on my stomach, unlike any other pyjama shirt I owned.
"What time do you think Madison is coming back from work?" Nitara asked in the dead silence, and I stared at the alarm clock across my room. It was one-thirty in the morning. A bit late for me, if I'm being honest.
"I don't know," I answered, my voice echoing tiredness in every letter that crossed my lips. "She's... sometimes she comes home after being out all night. There's no set hours."
Nitara sighed. "I still think she's a spy."
"She's not a spy."
"How do you know?"
"I just know."
"So you don't know."
"What did I just say?"
Nitara laughs, and her giggles chime through the room and take over where the silence once was. "You know, I... fuck."
I groaned. "What?"
Nitara's eyes were wide when I turned to her. "I forgot to call Baba."
I darted up in my bed. Baba wasn't my dad... but I could feel second-hand how mad he would be when he couldn't reach Nitara.
Nitara scrambled through her bag for her phone. "Where is it? I can't find it, can you turn on the lights?"
"It's not even dark," I said, spotting Nitara's phone in the side pocket of her bag. I climbed out of bed to get it for her, and she jumped when I put it in her hand. "Calm down!"
"Sorry! I just didn't see you- how the hell can you see where you're going, anyway?"
"It's light out," I said, climbing back into bed.
Nitara stares at me. "It's been raining and cloudy. And your curtains are drawn."
I turned to my window. The curtains were, in fact, drawn.
I shrugged. "Do you need to charge your phone?"
"Yes," Nitara said, exasperated.
"Directly on your left there's a cord."
I almost laughed watching Nitara fumble for the charger, and it took her a good ten seconds to grab it and plug her phone in. Either way, it took a minute to hear back up, but then the screen came on and the notifications started pouring in.
"Oh my God," Nitara said, cupping her hand over her mouth. "Thirty eight missed calls."
"When was the last time he called?"
I could tell Nitara was reluctant to check. "...Half an hour ago. Do you think he went to bed?"
"Knowing your Baba... no."
Nitara took a deep breath before she dialed.
"Hello?" she said, barely whispering, and ducked into the main room. It didn't matter. I could still hear him asking Nitara if she knew what time it was and how many times he had called. I flopped back onto my bed, lying down, getting the same vibes from when Madison had called me half a million times the unplanned night I spent at Nitara's.
I let out another sigh. My breath was still laced with peppermint toothpaste from hours ago. It was weird- I could smell it and taste it at the same time. Hours ago, was when Madison should have been home, because her call ins usually don't take long unless they're important.
A moment later Nitara entered my room again. "Baba said he's getting me a new portable charger. I told him I lost mine, but it's in my bag. Want it?"
I yawned into my pillow. "You can put it on the dresser."
Nitara tripped over something on her way to the dresser, and it took her a moment to get back in her sleeping bag. That night, Madison must have come home somewhere in the small hours of the morning, because when we woke up her door was shut and the lights in the kitchenette were left on. I was glad she got called in instead of being the one to call me. This time, I left a note on the door saying I would be at Nitara's for the next night, and that my phone wouldn't die.
I would tell her that she had nothing to worry about, but I wasn't so sure myself.
//an: hey all! so i wrote this chapter out of NOWHERE bc i'm stuck at home during this corona thing, and this totally replaces a weaker chapter i had written earlier but deleted itself!!1! because microsoft word updated with all my tabs open! love that! so now i'm back to writing on my phone because it turns out i can't trust either software to save my work- buuut at least with my phone i can write really late at night without tapping hard on my keyboard. it's good to change it up i guess~
-apolloshalo
//wc: 2698