Something squelched beneath Taylor's foot as she popped into the dark alley. Grimacing, she lifted her foot and placed it down somewhere safer. A thin veil of mist shrouded the air, blurring the edges of the street lamps further away.
The moisture soaked the open trash cans, heightening the rotten smell emanating from them. A hazy glow came from the bar's windows and the riotous sound of drunken laughter filled the night, despite the lateness of the hour.
Taylor picked her way around puddles of questionable substances towards one of the windows, hoping for a better look. It was her fifth stop that night, the previous four having been dead-ends in regards to Vincent. Collecting a layer of mist, she decided this would be her last attempt of locating the criminal for the night.
As she gripped the edge of the sill and rose to her tiptoes, she felt each muscle arguing against the action. The training session with Clint had left her sore from the repetitive sequence he had run her through.
Though the ache called for a departure from her endeavors and a good night's sleep, it was a satisfying feeling. It meant that her untrained muscles were learning. Still, she wished the endless loop of his voice would stop playing in her head: step, elbow, flip, step, elbow, flip. It was a song that had no rhythm but wouldn't be ejected.
When Taylor couldn't make out Vincent among the rowdy occupants, she stepped back, wondering if she should try to find a way inside that wouldn't expose her. As she was eyeing the building as if it would show her an in, a pair of rough, hairy arms encircled her.
"What do you think you're doing, boy?" a rock salt voice said.
Taylor's mind froze, but her body didn't, reacting on instinct. She stomped on the man's foot and jabbed an elbow into his side. Gripping his arms, she bent over, leveraging her weight and flipped the man over her back. He hit the sodden ground with a grunt of pain.
In the illumination from the bar, Taylor could see the outline of his form. He was twice her size. She stared at him stunned at what she had done. Her heart hammered in her chest as adrenaline raced through her veins, making her feel more awake than she had in a while.
When he rolled to get up, Taylor moved. She vanished and reappeared on the bar's roof. She leaned over the brick ledge, watching the man. Her mind whirled from it all. The man rose and spun around, searching for her. Taylor crouched down, shaking with shock, fear, and elation. She was okay. Better than okay, she had managed to take down a guy twice her size. In that moment, all she wanted to do was tell Clint.
The reality that she couldn't dampened the moment. Still, she had done it. Below her the man swore and stomped back inside, slamming the door behind him. Taylor stood, checking that he was gone. Trying to slow her pounding heart, she contemplated her next step. A shouted 'no' echoed from behind her making her heart jerk with fear.
She spun around, sending pebbles skittering with the motion. The rooftop lay empty except for a closed doorway and a skylight that jutted up from the floor. Letting out a shaky breath, Taylor crept forward, keeping low, cautious of disturbing more rocks. As she drew near, the smell of cigarette smoke filled her nose and she fought down a cough.
Holding her breath, she peered over the lip of the window. Below her was a long wooden table crowded with men all bearing the clubs tattoo. Some were tilted back in their chairs, cigarettes dangling out of their mouths, while others were bent over, studying the blueprint on the table. At the head stood a man with graying hair, though from his stance and build it showed that age had not beaten him yet.
Taylor surveyed the scene, her heart stuttering as one of the members lifted his head. It was Vincent.
She leaned in, straining to hear what was being said. The faint words slipped out of the crack, only some of them making sense. One sentence managed to come out clear, as the older man raised his voice, trying to draw the attention of the members that were further down and less attentive.
"We have a small window and so we can't fail," he said.
Taylor stood, knowing that the blueprint, the statement, and the collection of members meant something and that she wasn't the only one who should be hearing it. The rooftop disappeared, replaced by Weston's office.
"What do you want me to do with him?"
Taylor plastered herself into her corner, shifting closer to the filing cabinet for cover. Weston wasn't alone. A police officer stood before his desk, his thumbs hooked into his utility belt. Taylor stopped breathing, waiting to see if the officer had spotted her.
"Put Mr. Russo in a cell," Weston said. "He can have the night to think about his decisions." He leaned forward, resting his clasped hands on the desk. "How's the victim?"
"Shaken. She mentioned that besides wanting her purse, Antonio was asking some strange questions about her work."
Frowning, the detective leaned back in his chair, his laced fingers resting on his stomach.
"Do you have specifics?" he asked.
"She was too rattled to say, but I can see if she remembers."
Weston nodded. "Do that. And if she doesn't now, follow up tomorrow to see if she remembers anything."
"Understood."
The officer left and Weston remained as he was, the line of thought between his brows never leaving. Once the door clicked shut, Taylor relaxed.
"Probably should have given you a heads up before I came," she said.
Weston was startled from his reverie and he twirled his chair towards her.
"That would be a good idea, but that corner is kept that dark for a reason. Alvarez didn't see you, so we're okay. What's going on?"
Taylor came out of her hiding spot. "I found Vincent and I think you should hear something."
Weston stood, slipping on his jacket and snatching his keys from a ceramic tray.
"That will take too long," Taylor said.
She placed a hand on his arm, surprising him.
"Breath through your nose and remember that the feeling will go away."
Weston opened his mouth but the words were trapped between his office and the rooftop, never heard. When they landed, Weston staggered and turned away from Taylor bending over his knees. His body was tense, trying to keep himself from losing the contents of his stomach.
"Remember to breathe," she whispered, still aware of where they were.
He nodded once but didn't dare open his mouth. After a minute, he straightened, placing his hands on his hips, taking in large gulps of air.
"You all right?"
He took in a final deep breath, the nauseous tinge to his skin receding. "Yeah."
"Over here," she said.
They crossed the roof to the skylight, their pace slow as they worked to keep quiet. Weston crouched down, surveying the room below. To Taylor's surprise and chagrin, the scene they stared at was not the one she had observed minutes before. The blueprint was no longer on the table and the leader was seated, clearly at the end of his words. What he said next proved this.
"You all have your tasks," he said, hard eyes meeting each member in turn. "Do not fail me."
The men all nodded and rose, dividing into pairs and groups as they exited the room. The old man stood, gesturing to Vincent and another remaining man.
"Let's get a drink," he said.
When they left, Taylor sank back on her heels.
"I should have stayed and listened," she said.
Weston didn't comment, instead, he studied every inch of the interior.
"Can you take us back to my office?" he asked.
Taylor put her hand on his arm and the world shifted. This time, Weston sank into his chair, placing his head in his hands, working through the onslaught of nausea. Taylor folded her arms and leaned against the filing cabinet, chewing on her lip, regretting the snap decision to leave the rooftop in the first place.
"They had a blueprint on the table," she said. "I didn't make out what it was, I thought you might have a clearer idea." She sighed. "I shouldn't have left. I might have learned something more."
Weston raised his head, the sickening sensation dulling.
"You did the right thing," he said. "Besides we did get something?"
Taylor was skeptical, her silence conveying it well.
"We did," Weston said, reading her lack of response right. "We know that they are planning something and that there are tasks needed to be done. That means we can tail Vincent or some of the other members and get a better idea of what it is. Also, it means that we have an answer to the fire."
Taylor cocked her head, not sure how he made that jump.
"You said they had blueprints to something. I'm guessing that's what they stole from the records and set the fire to cover up whatever they took. Now blueprints could mean several things, but the two most likely are kidnapping or heist. Did you hear or see anything else?"
Taylor was slow to answer, relieved over the fact that her mistake hadn't cost them everything. When Weston raised his eyebrows in question, she blinked.
"The older guy, the leader, he said something about having a small window and that they couldn't fail."
The detective nodded, eyes drifting off in thought.
"Again that could mean kidnapping or heist. I'll start getting some information about who might be coming into town that is worth kidnapping. As for a heist..., I'll get an officer to comb through the city's most likely of targets."
"You got all of that from a few words and blueprint?"
Weston laughed, it was a sound that seemed to counter the determined detective.
"It's my job," he said like it was the simplest thing.
"Right."
Weston rested his chin in his hand, his attention wandering off. As they lapsed into silence, the mood in the office seemed to shift but Taylor wasn't sure why. It was almost like she could feel the stirring of thoughts. Deciding it was time to get some sleep, she opened her mouth to say so, but Weston beat her to the punch.
"Is it always like that?" he asked, not looking at her.
It was the odd, thunderstruck look on his face that made Taylor realize what he was talking about.
"No," she said. "I don't get nauseous."
He shook his head. "No, I mean the feeling of being beyond limitations."
The statement caught her by surprise, it so succinctly put into words the sensation that teleporting gave her.
"Yeah," she said, quietly as if it were a secret. "It is."
Weston pressed his lips together, want and boundaries battling it out in his mouth.
"Do you think...would it be all right if we..."
It was the uncertainty and the way he couldn't meet her eyes that made her already agree. Since knowing him he had never once been lost, but right then he was out of his element and she was in hers.
"The feeling shouldn't be as strong this time," she said, reaching out to him.
The world washed away and reformed. Weston hit the ground and Taylor winced.
"Sorry, I should have had you stand up," she said.
Weston waved this off and stood, more in control than he had on the first jump. He made a slow circle taking in their surroundings. They were on a rooftop in the center of the city. Over the edges were faint dots of light, from the restless and the insomniacs. Mist shielded the sky, closing the city into a whitish dome.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"Hilton Towers. This is almost at the heart of the city."
From here she could feel The Pull the strongest. It was the site of most of her late nights.
Weston didn't ask for more, soaking it all in. When Taylor took a spot on the ledge, he focused on her.
"Why do you do it?" he asked.
Standing on the rooftop, at the heart of a city that was unaware of who she was and what she could do, the question made sense. Nothing was holding her back from falling to the other side of the law.
Taylor tucked her hands behind her, the coarse surface poking into her gloves. Memories skipped through her mind: her aunt's loud kisses on Taylor's cheek. Her infectious bell-like laugh. Her eyes glowing with life.
"Because I have a heart to protect people," she said.
A humorous curl came to his lips at the echo of his response to her.
"You never had moments of wanting to use your ability for personal gain?"
"No." The response was immediate and without doubt. "Because someone in my life inspired me to be better than selfish want."
"Who?"
Taylor didn't reply. When the silence stretched past the point of mere contemplation, Weston smiled.
"Fair enough, I have gotten more tonight than I ever imagined." He paused. "Thank you, Shadow."
Taylor shook her head as she pushed away from the barrier.
"Pick a different name or I'll leave you here," she said.
Weston laughed, and again it spoke of a person beneath the badge.
"What about Wraith?"
"I'm not a harbinger of death."
"No, you are someone who moves through the world barely seen, like a shadow."
She rolled her eyes. "I still hate it."
Weston's chuckle was sucked away as the rooftop vanished.
**********************************************************************
"Hulk smash."
You got to hand it to the green monster, he's so eloquent.
What do you got for me, superheroes (and some sidekicks as well as a couple villains cause some of you have a dark side)? 🦸🏾♂️🦹🏼🦸🏻♀️
The mystery is heating up! I for one am super duper excited about it!! (Yes, I'm going to use the word Super as much as I can! It will be super! 😄)
Okay, clearly Taylor doesn't like the superhero title of Shadow, what do you say we come up with one we think she would like? What are your suggestions?
I'm a fan of Ghost. Kind of otherworldly, but works with her coming and going without people knowing. 👻
There is also Pop Up! But I'm not sure she'd like that because it makes her sound like a fruit juice stand that just appears and sells smoothies. Never mind, that's a terrible name. I take it back. 🤦🏽♀️
FUN FACT!! (This will be interesting facts about superheroes, Marvel and anything I find interesting): Deadpool is a member of the Avengers.
Hahah can you imagine Deadpool and Tony meeting! Gosh that would be something! 😂
Now I need you to tell me how to say 'Fun Fact' in your language and what language it is!
Vote, comment, follow but only is you support free will!
I'm cutting the hot guy tradition. Ask me why and I'll tell you.