Miss_Nox

I want to read more! This is an awesome little project you've got going. :-)

A sort of story written from the perspective of my toon, Misty Joines aka Angry Cheerleader. Not sure what sparked it, except that I'm a hopeless romantic every now and then. Even a villain can have a heart sometimes...

(May contain a couple of higher-level storyarc spoilers. Just so you're warned.)

----------

You know, I used to roll my eyes at some of the remarks guys in my villaingroup would make about Ghost Widow. Typical pseudo-locker room talk, of course, about how hot she was and what they'd do if she weren't a ghost. (While we all know deep down that they'd wet their pants if she so much as raised an eyebrow at them.) But yeah. Guy talk, whatever. I heard more than enough of it when I was at Steel High.

Actually, I still roll my eyes at it. But that's beside the point.

I don't know what it is about him. He's not really that cute, when all's said and done. He's kind of odd-looking. I mean, if you're just looking at his features and all...just sort of strange.

Then he speaks...and I get butterflies in my stomach.

I've never been that kind of girl. I had boyfriends, yeah. I was head cheerleader, it's like everyone expected me to date the football star. So I did, even though I wasn't ever that enthusiastic, I guess. We went to prom, had 'our song', and all. And I killed him, like I killed the three chicks responsible for killing me first. Wasn't planning on killing him, of course-- but I kinda had to, he was in bed with one of the chicks. Anyway, I'm kinda getting away from the point. I'd dated but it was all just like whatever, you know? Nothing there. Never let anyone get past second base, definitely-- even then, maybe two guys got that far. Just didn't really feel anything. Just kinda bored. Usually I ended up wondering what was on the OC that night or whatever.

But oh my god.

When he spoke to me, I could just feel my heartbeat speed up. His voice, the way he talked...it was like poetry. I never really knew anyone into poetry, definitely didn't date anyone like that. It wasn't really my strong suit in English class, and when we read aloud most people spoke in kind of a bored monotone. Not him, though...and he wasn't reading, he was just speaking normally. When he spoke, I forgot about the odd quirks of his appearance. I just heard his voice, I saw the way his lips curved up just a touch, the glow in his eyes became something warm and familiar.

I knew others talked to him too, and that they did missions for him, but they didn't matter. When he spoke to me, it was just to me. Like I was the only girl in the world, and each thing I did at his request, each person I defeated and each item I retrieved, would bring me closer to him. I started thinking more about how I looked, for him. If my makeup was right (just enough to emphasize but not be obvious), if my costume fit well and flattered, how my hair looked...all that. I mean, I know that it probably doesn't mean a lot to him, but it did to me. I made sure I took my medication for him, too, that makes it easier to keep ahold of myself. I know I pretty much fell over myself to get him those things he wanted, that book and whatever.

You know...he never really smiled, not a normal smile, but I could hear it in his voice when I did well, and I could see a touch of one on his lips. And I know I smiled back. Not my bright cheerleader smile, of course, that I usually wear when I'm smashing some Crey agent's face in these days (yeah, I know, but I'm not really angry, okay?). I couldn't see my own face, of course, but I knew the smile. It felt...it felt almost goofy. Cute, of course, because it's me, but almost weirdly shy. I'd never been shy in my life, except when I talked to him. Shy, even though my heart would race and I'd want to just curl up to him and purr while listening to him speak.

Then I had to talk to that Daos guy.

I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. It helped only a little when I got to hurt Daos like he hurt me...but that came later on.

I wanted to cry when I was sent to defeat him. I didn't want to. I wanted him to make his better world, no matter the cost. I didn't want to stop him, but what if what he was wanting to do didn't work? He'd know I was forced to work against him anyway, so I'd be in trouble with Arachnos and he'd still know I turned on him, even though I didn't want to.

I said I wanted to cry when I had to fight him. Really, though...I did cry. There was no one to see it, everyone else around him had been defeated. I don't know if he saw, but I did. I remember it well. After he disappeared, when I hit him one more time, I stayed there...and just cried. I didn't want to do it, any of it. I'd felt guilty before, when I did that stuff for that Phipps creep, but it wasn't until this point in time that I really, truly, hated being a villain. I'd never felt like this before.

I'd never had my heart broken.

When I'd talked to him afterward, as Daos made me do, I wanted to hide. He was so cold to me. It was bad enough that I was heartbroken, but making me talk to him was like...taking the time to step on each remaining piece just to make sure it was properly crushed. And I still knew that wouldn't be the end of it, that I'd need to talk to him again. Part of me was happy, just for the chance to see him...but part of me was afraid, because I didn't want to face him when he was so cold to me. Cold, and...I dunno. It was like he'd lost hope in everything, because of what I did.

But I talked to him again. He was so detached, even though his voice still gave me those happy little shivers. Anything he'd have asked of me, I'd have done gladly, just for the chance to see him warm up to me again. I'd have taken on Recluse himself, just to see that little almost-smile, or to see him gesture again with those impossibly graceful hands instead of keeping them clasped at his back as he did now. Anything.

Well. I did end up taking on Recluse.

In the future, but still...I did it, because he wanted me to. I didn't want that future anyway-- I may be a villain, but on a certain level I sorta came to realize that maybe, just maybe, heroes are kind of a necessary...er...evil. Necessary good? Anyway. I'd never really been one for deep thoughts like this, but talking to him kind of put my mind on an odd level, made me think about this stuff. Without heroes, without the so-called 'good', where are we? What would we go against to make us who we are? All I saw was that world turned completely dark, without anything to fight except each other-- so in the end, without that other side to unite against in a way, wouldn't we just end up destroying ourselves?

Ohmygod, that was a total tangent.

I went to the future, with some people from my group, and we took on Recluse in the future...and defeated him. Then I had to take his helmet to the current Recluse. I didn't understand that, really-- wouldn't that make the current Recluse want to smack me down? I guess not, because the big guy seemed to have a weird kinda respect for me when I showed him what I did to his future self.

So I returned to my contact, to him. Just hoping he'd feel a little warmer toward me since I did all of that for him. I'm not sure what he felt, but he said something about how I was more his equal now than anything. I didn't want to hear that. I don't want to be his equal.

I want to be his student. I want him to be my teacher. I want him to smile down at me, I want to make him happy by doing more missions and errands for him. I want to feel him touch my hair, to speak in that lovely voice and hear how poetic his words could be, once again. I want him to know how much I cried when I had to defeat him, and that if he asked I'd let him have his revenge on me for it.

I don't want to be his equal. I want him to be my patron again. I want him.

I love him.

[ QUOTE ]
[ QUOTE ]
This is why I love these things. Miss_Nox looks so kind in her real life picture, but after seeing pictures of Mistress Muse, I would not mess with her.

[/ QUOTE ]

that is how she gets close, then... BLAM! You never know what shot you in the neck before you bleed out...

and there stands Miss_Nox standing over you with CrAzY eyes, laughing histerically.

and your vision starts to fade... and you see a light...

[/ QUOTE ]

...Curses, he knows my secret!

/e plots

Talk about hourglass...

I like it a lot, very nice work. My only tweak would be that her shoulders look too small-- not width-wise, but the thickness between her armpit and the top of the shoulder seems a little small, gives an almost 'skeletal' feel.

But as I said, very nice. :-) I'm still working on my art...though I think when I get my stuff moved into my new place I'm gonna tackle painting some of my toons, I always liked my painting better than my drawing.

I actually have two toons (one hero, one villain) I made based on myself, as much as I could. *chuckle* I don't have any images of Muse right now, but here's Mistress Muse...

And here I am.

The pic is a tiny bit outdated, I do actually have bangs now. :-) So my hair looks more like that toon, than the 'mod' hairstyle.

Just listened to the story part, listening to the rest, but just wanted to say good job with it. :-) And thanks for reading my story!

Woohoo! *breaks out iTunes.*

Part VIII: Atlas Park, 2005

"Are you sure you want to register as...'Miss Nox', Miss Knox?" the hero identity registrar asked, eyebrows raising as she fixed her gaze on Jessica over the tops of her reading glasses. "Most heroes prefer to keep the identities separate, for their families' sakes. You're not exactly diverging here."

Jessica shrugged, shoving down the emotions that threatened to well up. "My parents are dead, ma'am. They got killed in a Clockwork-caused accident in Skyway five months ago. I don't have any family left to threaten, I don't have a boyfriend, I don't even have friends. I just graduated college, I want to do something with what I do have, and that something is be a hero. Already registered with Hero Corps and everything, all they need is my codename. I want Miss Nox."

The registrar shrugged, turning back to her computer to enter the information. "Suit yourself, dearie. Gonna print out some forms for you to take back to the Hero Corps folks, they'll tell you what you need to do next, and tell you where to go for your ID and EMD—that's your emergency teleportation device."

"That's the thing that monitors when I'm almost dead and zips me outta there, right? Handy thing to have. Thanks, ma'am."

The registrar smiled. "Good luck, Miss Nox."

Jessica smiled. "Thank you."

She left the registrar's office, papers in hand; her free hand reached up and tugged the atom pendant from beneath her shirt. "Well, Uncle Jay. I might end up beating up your former friends, but...I hope you're gonna be proud of me."

Jessica, soon to be Miss Nox, kissed the pendant before slipping it back under her shirt, heading toward City Hall. First the Hero Corps people, then Dr. St. John-Smythe of SERAPH, who was to be her starting contact as a science-origin Scrapper—a Paragon Hero. She paused briefly to look up at the immense statue of the fallen hero Atlas.

"Good luck, Miss Nox," she murmured to herself, before continuing onward.

Part VII: Chiron Medical Center, Atlas Park, 2004

The first thing Jessica heard when she woke was her mother complaining about the hospital bills. Typical. At least Dad looked worried about her.

"Mrs. Knox, I assure you—Paragon City University will cover the hospital costs. Both because the incident happened during class hours, on an experiment done through the university, and because...well..." The doctor cleared his throat. "The accident has left your daughter genetically altered, Mr. and Mrs. Knox. In short, she is now what we would classify as 'superhuman'."

"You mean to say," Jessica heard her father say, "That my daughter's gonna be a hero?"

"Well, that's up to Miss Knox," the doctor replied. "Superpowers, as we all know from those currently housed at the Zig, do not automatically mean heroic deeds. She may want to continue to live her life as a normal citizen. While many with powers do feel the call to do something with them, there are still many who prefer to go about their everyday lives. Ah, Miss Knox, I see you're awake."

Jessica looked between the doctor and her parents. "What happened?"

"According to Dr. Newell—who is waiting outside, quite worried—you were setting up the final stage of your ongoing scientific project involving negative energy. A photographer from the school newspaper had snuck into the lab, and took a picture. We don't yet know why he was there," the doctor glanced at her parents before continuing, "But in addition to startling you, causing a sudden movement that damaged the equipment, the continued flashes set off a reaction between the negative energy and the light energy. I don't know why, I am not the physics professor that Dr. Newell is, but the reaction...well, the professor was wearing his safety gear, the photographer had escaped, but you caught the brunt of the blast, mostly unprotected.

"And luckily for you, you survived. Only now, our tests show that your genetic structure has been altered to something superhuman. The negative energy that was part of the experiment is now a part of your system."

Jessica let out a slow breath. "Wow. But..um...this won't affect my scholarships, will it? I don't have my Bachelor's Degree yet, I'm supposed to graduate in the spring..."

"Your other professors have been notified of the situation, Miss Knox, and we've made arrangements for your work to be sent here while we run further tests. Your status as an exemplary student made them more willing to make such allowances, fortunately." The doctor paused. "I'd read about you before, Miss Knox, you've quite a reputation."

For once it was nice hearing that in regard to her intellect, not other tendencies. Jessica smiled as he continued. "Some of your research into nullification has been put into effect with the superpowered criminals at the Zig. Ironic, now that you have superpowers yourself. I do hope you won't find your own work used against you, young lady."

That got a bit of a laugh from her. "Can I see Dr. Newell now?"

The doctor looked down at his clipboard, then nodded with a smile, gesturing for her parents to leave ahead of him.

Part VI: Paragon City University, 2004

"Dr. Newell—ack! Hey, let me get this set up first—hold on, hold on, hold—" The rest of her protest was lost in a giggle, as Jessica felt herself tugged backward once the tube was secured. A pair of arms, still in the white labcoat, wrapped around her waist and a pair of lips found her neck.

"Dr. Newell, I don't think this is gonna help our research—" she continued her protest, though it was belied by laughing. She turned around in his arms, her own hands moving to his shoulders as she started to move them backward, toward the lab adjoining this one. The lab where the major work was.

"Mm. I love it when you call me by my title."

Jessica knew all of this was wrong; he was her professor, she was his student and his lab assistant, and even though they constantly worked together on his latest obsession there were boundaries that shouldn't have been crossed. Why couldn't she ever say no? It'd been her problem in high school, and now at Paragon City University...well...at least Dr. Newell had nabbed her quickly her freshman year, right? As long as they kept it quiet, no harm done. He wasn't married, he had no reputation for seducing students previously, and for the past three years here at PCU neither of them had looked at anyone else.

She wasn't in love, no, but this was a happy arrangement. Science, and regular booty calls with a man who was even smarter than her, not bad-looking, and a damn sight more mature than any college guy. And she discovered she liked 'em older; fifteen to twenty was a good gap. Jessica giggled once more, swatting his roaming hands.

"We'll have plenty of time for that afterward, Dr. Newell. I even got us some champagne, 'cause I know we're gonna succeed this time, and we'll need to celebrate..."

"You're a remarkable young lady, Jessica." He kissed her right beneath her ear, before pulling back. "We'll finish this part of my—of our negative energy work today, and celebrate tonight. Maybe this weekend, since it is fall break. First the project, then the champagne...then the world!"

She laughed, tugging him with her into the lab. "Come on, Dr. Evil, let's get this done."

One more brief kiss later and both had switched to business mode; another way they got along so well. Jessica slid her goggles on over her glasses, stooping to make last-minute adjustments to the capacitor. Adjustments, double-checking of tubes and wires, everything necessary to be sure that there were no unplanned variables in the final test.

Dr. Newell was putting on his safety gear while she made the checks, moving from the capacitor to the accelerator; the design had been based on the concept of a particle accelerator, hence the name, even if its purpose was quite different. The design was in fact Jessica's; through the cooperation of a hero with powers centering around negative energy, they were able to gather data, even store a bit of that particular form of energy in a second capacitor, at the other end of the accelerator.

Everything seemed to be in order. Jessica felt that little flutter in her stomach, from anticipation and excitement. If they succeeded, they were quite possibly looking at that Nobel Prize; this would be a form of energy-based fuel that was renewable and even self-sustaining. Already parts of the research had been released, timed appropriately and with just enough of the facts to be interesting but not enough to reveal their work prematurely; more importantly to her, it had both names on it—Graeme Newell and Jessica Knox. He wasn't going to try to take her work as his own, as she'd heard other professors doing.

"One more kiss, Jessica. For luck." He smiled at her, stepping over to the machine as she turned toward him. After starting the warm-up process for the capacitors, she turned from her place at the controls and tilted her head back to receive that kiss. "I've got a good feeling about this."

"Me too, Dr. Newell, me too." Jessica smiled, closing her eyes as he leaned down to her.

Something moved nearby, and a split second later there was an incredibly bright—at least, as compared to the mostly dark room—flash of light as if from a camera. Jessica turned about before she could help it, bumping into the negative energy capacitor; there were sparks as she knocked out some wiring and tubing, and more flashes from the camera. A photographer had snuck in—

"Dr. Newell!" she yelled out, giving up on trying to fix the device. "Get down!" She threw herself at the professor, to try and knock him down.

Everything shortly went black.

Part V: Kings Row, 1998

"Dude, Jessica, why do you wear that thing?"

Jessica looked down at the atom-shaped pendant around her neck. Usually it was hidden under her shirt, but her shirt was tossed over the front seat at the moment. She gave a shrug, looking back at the guy laying over her. "What? It was a present from a relative. What's the big deal? There's more important stuff for you to be looking at—"

"Heh, didn't know I was takin' some nerd out—hey Ms. Wizard, you bring us a pocket protector?"

"What do you—oh goddamnit, Rich, you were supposed to bring them."

"'S okay, baby, we don't need it, I'll just be careful..." His hands started moving again, looking to hike up her skirt.

Jessica wasn't having any of it. She pushed at him, moving his hand away from her leg. "I don't think so, I'm not [Censored] my chance at college just because you're an idiot who couldn't remember something as simple as a [Censored], I wanna go home—"

"Aw, c'mon, babe, you can't get me this worked up and not do something about it...just a little, that's all, come on—ow! You just—you b---h, you broke my tooth!"

"Because you wouldn't get off me, [censored]. I told you that you had to bring that was all you had to do, I even paid for my own movie ticket tonight and brought the twelve-pack. You don't get off me when I say, you get hurt. I didn't take those self-defense classes just for fun. [censored]." She wiped blood from her face, from where he'd spit on her while talking. Ugh.

"Come on, Jess, don't be like that—look, sorry, whatever, get back in the car—"

Jessica ignored him and kept walking, tugging her shirt on as she went. She heard the screech on the pavement as he peeled away, obviously more than willing to leave her there on her own. Good litmus test for a guy, wasn't it? Not that she'd shown herself to be very good at picking them in the first place. Hopefully there weren't any cops around, either, she knew they smelled like beer, and she was all of sixteen.

One hand came up to her necklace, so recently mocked, and she suddenly wondered what her uncle would have said about her now. She wasn't the skinny, gangly, mousy Jessie Knox anymore—there hadn't been any more upward growth, leaving her at just a few inches past five feet, but she'd filled out a little. More than a little; it'd been a constant embarrassment in junior high gym class, having to wear two sports bras over her regular one before she'd dare play soccer or any of that.

He'd be ashamed of her, probably. She was supposed to be studying more, not going out and drinking and whatever. Why did she do all of this, anyway? Because it was so nice being noticed... Mom and Dad barely paid attention to her these days; when her uncle was killed she hadn't realized that most of the attention she got—apart from the yelling—had been from him.

Jessica had kept on entering science fairs, because she knew he'd want her to, but with each year she was pretty sure her invites were more for the shock factor than because of genuine scientific interest. And she didn't mind it, really; she knew that beyond the 'shock factor' her research was solid, the interests relevant. But who else would have done a study of venereal disease among prostitutes, or the exact physics involved in the design of the ten most popular sex toys?

She turned down an alley after making sure no one lurked there; it was a good shortcut to get home, but if she ran into the wrong people...well, she remembered that time the Skull had wanted her to hide a package. Now there'd be a completely different kind of package to deal with, and she wasn't in the mood.

Why was tonight so different? She hadn't thought about this stuff in a while, at least not while on a date. All of a sudden, though, Jessica found herself wondering what her uncle would have said to her about what she was doing these days. She grasped the pendant that hung on the chain there, feeling suddenly ashamed for all of it. It was getting close to that time to apply for colleges. She'd already taken the SAT test twice; the second time was to improve her English score, she'd done perfectly in Math.

Uncle Jay had wanted her to be the first person in their family to go to college, and she was blowing all of that off just because her parents didn't care where she went, anymore. She heard Mr. Sokowoski's voice in her head, too—Maybe I'll get to see you accept the Nobel Prize someday. Did she want to disappoint him too? He was still very much alive, and even though she got straight A's...her reputation around Kings Row High wasn't nearly that immaculate.

Jessica paused, ducking her head to light a cigarette, then continued walking. She was thinking too much tonight, but maybe it was a good thing. She wanted to think her uncle could be proud of her someday...maybe she'd make her project next year about nullifiers. Ways of rendering a superhero's powers, assuming they didn't come from gadgets, useless. It'd be a nice legacy for Uncle Jay, wouldn't it?

She didn't hate heroes. She hated those who abused their power, and wanted to tell more people that just because people called themselves heroes didn't automatically mean they were good. And maybe some of them needed a little humility, courtesy of a lower-class girl too smart for her own good. There were a few people at her school with superpowers; she could use her reputation to lure them in to test it. Even of one of 'em was a chick, people said that girl was a lesbian anyway. Why not?

She had scholarships to win, and she'd do so however possible.

Part IV: Kings Row, 1995

"Look man, we weren't doin' nothin'! We're just standing here mindin' our own business! Go bust some of those wizard creeps, can't you just fly up to some rooftop?"

"Yeah, man, all we're doing is playin' cards here. Last I heard there wasn't a law against that."

Jessica stopped short at the voices, recognizing the latter—her uncle. The one who'd become one of the Skulls. She didn't recognize the other Skull, nor the two additional male voices. A little voice told her to keep walking, let Uncle Jay handle his own stuff, and that she shouldn't be involved at all. Just run, like he said. Unfortunately...she was stubborn, and far too curious for her own good.

She turned, taking care to walk as silently as possible toward the sounds of arguing, her lower lip caught between her teeth. There were some empty crates near the alley; she could crouch behind them and peer between the top one and the corner. Be unseen while she watched what was going on and who was bothering Uncle Jay.

What she saw was a bit worrisome-- her uncle and his Skull associate, but the two with them were heroes. Please oh please don't let them arrest him...he said he wasn't doing anything, and she knew as well as anyone that just because you were in the gang didn't mean you stole or vandalized stuff.

"Just being here means you're up to something," said one of the heroes, a man wearing a red and blue bodysuit, with blue goggles. Lightning bolts decorated his metal gloves and boots. "We know you Skulls, we know how you work."

"Just because you're not doing anything right now doesn't mean you won't be an hour from now," continued the other hero, a blond man dressed in a sleeveless Chinese-looking robe. "I'd say my partner Arcflash and I are justified in wanting to take the two of you downtown..." The blond looked over to 'Arcflash' significantly.

"Unless, of course..." Arcflash's voice trailed off a moment, and he seemed to smile beneath his goggles. "...You turn your ill-gotten gains over to us. Can't have you putting it to bad use, after all. Might convince us to let you go, if Fox here agrees."

"Might. Depends on how much you got."

Jessica couldn't believe her ears. She thought heroes were supposed to...do good things. Fight actual crime, not harass people who weren't doing anything. Oh sure, she knew the gang did stuff sometimes, but they weren't at that moment. Why were the heroes doing this? Trying to take Jay's money?

"Where'd you get this, Skull?" The hero called Fox held up a little box, opening it. Something glimmered inside. Jewelry? Did Uncle Jay have a girlfriend...?

"Give it back, man, I bought that, it's legit."

"Right."

"You want me to prove I bought it? Fine, here's the receipt. Only showing you 'cause it's for my niece, tomorrow's her birthday, she'll be thirteen. I ain't giving my niece somethin' hot, she deserves better than that—" She could hear the growing anger in her uncle's voice.

But still—it was for her? Jessica had never owned a piece of jewelry in her life other than those cheap metal bangles you could get at the dollar store. It was something that was a real gem, just for her? And she was going to have to watch it get taken away...

"Where'd you get the money for it? Seems a little high for the regular income in this part of town," said Fox. "How about we keep this, and take you downtown anyway? I bet some jewelry store's gonna come up short something, or short some cash at the end of the night."

So not only was her birthday present going to be taken, but they were going to arrest her uncle just for being there? She couldn't stand it-- she had to do something. The two Skulls had been pushed against the wall when she finally moved.

"Stop it!" Jessica shrieked at the so-called heroes, running across the short distance to try and pummel Arcflash with her small fists. "Let them go, they didn't—Uncle Jay—" A fist caught her in the face, sending her into the brick wall; the jolt of electricity that had accompanied the hit left her stunned, slumping to the ground in a daze.

"What the—you just knocked out a kid, Arc, for crying out loud—"

"I didn't mean to! I didn't know what was coming at me, I just acted, it could've been another—"

The sound of a fist meeting flesh greeted her ears, as she still-blearily watched her uncle attack the hero called Arcflash, switchblade in his hand. He apparently found a mark, as there was a sudden shout of pain from the hero; the other jumped into the fray, lashing out with punches and kicks faster than she could follow.

It was all over too soon. Jessica watched in horror as her uncle collapsed, eyes wide open; everything seemed to shift abruptly from fast-forward to slow motion.

"Holy—holy f--k, Fox, you killed him—"

"He was going for you with a knife!"

The other Skull had long since fled, while there was a distraction; it was only Jessica, the heroes, and her uncle there. Who wasn't moving, whose eyes were open and glazed over. A feeling of sickness welled up in her, and through what seemed like superhuman effort she dragged herself from the wall to his body. "Uncle Jay—please—please wake up...you can't be—"

She looked up at the two heroes who still stood there, tears blurring her vision. "You killed him!" she screamed at them. "He—he wasn't doing anything—and you—you—"

"S--t." One of them threw the box down, before the pair of them bolted.

Jessica didn't know how long she'd been there before the police finally showed, to drag her away from her uncle's body. She clutched the box in her hand, only later looking down at what it contained. A silver necklace bearing a pendant in the shape of an atom, with the electrons as sapphires, the protons as rubies, and the neutrons as amethysts. There was even a little card inside the box.

Jessie— Keep studying. Hope this helps, maybe it'll be a good luck charm for you in the future when you're a famous scientist. Love, Uncle Jay

Part III: Atlas Park, 1993

"And now, first place in the Grade 6-8 division of the Paragon City Science Fair goes to...Michael Wilton, from Atlas Park Junior High, for his project on aerodynamics!"

There was raucous cheering from the Atlas Park area of the university gymnasium where the science fair was being held. Jessica drew a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. She hadn't even placed-- and didn't understand why. She'd walked around the gym many times, she was the only one here from Kings Row Middle School but her project was, to her mind, the best. What had she done wrong?

"It's not you," Mr. Sokowoski, her science teacher, sat down on the bench beside her. "The judges didn't think your project was 'appropriate'." His tone of voice held clear scorn for that decision.

"I don't understand. What was wrong with it?"

He gave her shoulder a brief squeeze. "They didn't think a homemade laser was an appropriate project for submission by a sixth grader. They said because it was too dangerous, but I think...they didn't believe you really did it yourself."

She felt the familiar sting of angry tears. Again. "They think I copied it? I mean—I listed what I used, how I built it, and everything, why would they think I didn't do it?"

He seemed to hesitate a moment, looking down at her. It looked like he wanted to say something but couldn't decide if he ought to...but apparently Jessica was deemed grown up enough, because he did continue. "They don't think some girl from...well, where you're from would be able to do this. They might expect it from someone here in Atlas, or one of the rich kids from Founders Falls, but Kings Row? You're the first one to come here from our school in ten years, Jessica. I thought it'd show that you're something special...I'm sorry. I don't know if I'd encouraged you if I knew this would happen. We both know yours was the best. They just..."

"Didn't think someone like me could do something like this."

Mr. Sokowoski's shoulders slumped, and he rubbed his forehead. "I'm sorry, Jessica. I didn't think this would happen. Keep all of it, all of what you did and make copies of your work just to be safe. I think this'll get you somewhere in the future. I'm gonna protest the decision on your behalf, but...I don't think anything'll change. Just keep up your work. When you get to the real world, it won't matter where you're from, especially if you get to work with the heroes."

"It's okay," she said quietly, trying to smile reassuringly up at her teacher. "Just 'cause they don't want to see my project doesn't mean it's any less important. My uncle told me to keep studying and I'll get to be the first in my family to go to college, so...this'll just be an afterthought."

She felt him give her shoulder another squeeze. "You're a special girl, Jessica. I've got full faith I'll see you in the news one day, accepting some prize or another." He smiled. "Maybe I'll get to see you accept the Nobel Prize. And you can give your acceptance speech—I can hear it now. 'Mr. William Sokowoski taught me everything I know...'"

That made her laugh a little, through the tears. "I'll do that, I promise. Even—even if I didn't win here, you're right, it won't be a big deal later on...and besides, what other kid can claim they've got a real laser?"

He sobered up for a moment. "Be careful about that, though. Don't let it fall into the wrong hands, or tell a bunch of people. Especially back home. Now come on...time to head back home. My wife said she'll be happy to cook us dinner, if your parents don't mind."

With the display board folded, her project boxed up and secured, Jessica shuffled back toward the car with Mr. Sokowoski. Maybe next year, she could think of something beyond all of this but still 'safe', so she'd win like she deserved...

...Or maybe, just maybe, she'd do something even more outrageous. Who needed a prize? Jessica suddenly had the desire to just shock them all. She smiled to herself, the day now very much brighter.

Part II: Kings Row, 1992

The next night Jessica was woken up by a hand shaking her shoulder and a voice hissing at her in a whisper. "Jess! Jessie, wake up!"

She pushed herself up, leaning on one elbow while rubbing her eyes with the other hand. "Uncle Jay? What're you doing her? What's wrong? Building's not on fire is it, I don't hear sirens—"

"That package the Skulls gave you—where is it? What'd you do with it?" His voice, even at a whisper, held a certain urgency, almost fear. It was enough to make her sit up fully, waking quickly.

"I—I don't know what you're talking about—" she began, fumbling for her glasses beside her bed.

"Yes you do—damnit, Jess, this is important, don't keep secrets from me, not about this. Where's the package they gave you?" Once she had her glasses on she could see his face in the dark, which only alarmed her further. She'd never seen her uncle this worried before.

"It's—it's under my bed. I mean, up, in the box spring, where there's a hole in it. The corner down there—what's in it? I didn't look, I was afraid to look, what is it? How'd you know about it?" She was a smart girl. She could put two and two together... "You're—Jay, you're one of them?"

"Shut up! I'm trying to keep you safe, Jessie, you're the only one in the family who's got a chance to get outta here, outta Kings Row, I'm not gonna let you get killed in some drive-by because you went out for a [censored] walk and ran into a gang. When I found out Rolf made you take it and hide it I broke his nose, but he didn't know you were related to me."

He sat up from where he'd been looking for the package, looking at her once more. Both of his hands-- one with the package-- grasped her shoulders, his face drawing closer to hers. "Listen to me, Jessie. Don't ever do that again. I know you didn't wanna hurt anyone, but you gotta promise me, stay away from these guys. Keep your head down, run if you gotta, but just get through school here and get out of Kings Row before it's too late."

Jessica felt tears stinging her eyes, even more afraid now. "But—but you always told me to be brave—"

"Be brave at school, if a kid picks on you hit 'em back, but just run when you see these guys, Jess, I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you. Understand me?"

She nodded, falling silent again with tears still in her eyes, and watched him tuck the package away before he slipped out of her room.

(Posted in eight parts.)

Part I: Kings Row, 1992

"Jessie, suppertime!" came the yell from downstairs.

"Just a minute, Mom!" the young girl yelled back, before turning back to the assortment of parts and pieces scattered out on the table before her. Naturally, her mother’s call was forgotten within moments as she refocused on the project at hand. She was determined to finish this in time for the Science Fair at school tomorrow—she was positive she’d get first place this year. The remains of an old toaster, a few cheap watches, a dissected lamp, a radio, a television remote, and a few other bits were all put together in what looked like a contraption out of Rube Goldberg’s imagination. She might not be able to name her creation, exactly, but it served its purpose.

"Jessica Winifred Knox, you get down here RIGHT NOW!"

Jessica sighed, pushing herself away from the table with a grumble of frustration. She was so close to finishing her project. One hand pushed her oversized glasses up her nose, then tucked strands of mousy brown hair behind her ears from where they’d come out of her ponytail. She stomped down the stairs of the cramped townhouse where she lived with her parents and various relatives, the only child in the household. "I told you I was coming down, Mom—"

"What. Is. THIS?"

"—Oh. That." Jessica scratched the back of her neck, looking at the ominously blank space on the counter. "I…kinda needed the toaster for my science project, and it was an old toaster anyway, it didn't always work..." Her voice trailed off as she looked back at the rather angry face of her mother. Thin fingers fidgeted with the hem of her t-shirt.

"Do you think money just grows on trees, that we can go right out and buy anything we need just because you decided you needed something for one of your little hobbies? Especially when we just had to replace—"

"Damnit, Linda, lay off the girl just once!" came another yell, followed by a belch. Jessica winced slightly, having mixed feelings about her 'champion'. On one hand, she appreciated the intervention; on the other, it just meant more arguing...

"Maybe you oughta take more of a hand to her then, Thomas! For all you know she could be...building one of those clockwork monsters or something up there! Bad enough she can't be bothered to babysit or do a paper route or—"

Jessica had snuck out of the kitchen at that point, while her parents were distracted, seeking a bit of solace in the living room. One hand wiped a bit at her eyes, making sure no angry tears actually fell, when a hand rested on her shoulder.

"Don't take it so hard, kiddo. It's just bill time, you know what that means." The voice was reassuring; she turned and hugged the source, her uncle Jay. He was just eight years her senior, ten years her dad's junior; he'd always been more of an older brother to her than an uncle. Even if he'd been going out more and more lately, and staying out longer, having him there helped immensely.

Jessica detached herself from her uncle, moving to the front door. He made a bit of a sound behind her, probably to try and tell her not to go out, but she pretended she didn't hear. Besides, not like she tended to get bothered much around here. The worst element in this area were the Skulls, and most of them didn't seem really that interested in a skinny, geeky ten year old. The Clockwork haunted another part of Kings Row, and she'd heard rumors of wizards but hadn't seen any of them. She just wanted to get out of the house for a few.

Her nose wrinkled at the constant scent of air pollution. Even if the big factory had closed down before she was born, the smell it left in Kings Row didn't seem like it'd ever fade. There were still smaller places, like the steel rolling mill that her dad worked in, but the industrial heart of Kings Row was long gone. Most people Jessica saw were pretty down-hearted, resigned to living and dying in this place. Her mother couldn't see that she didn't want to be one of those people-- Jessica was determined to get out of here, go to the university, and become a successful scientist or engineer or something. Her teachers all said she was bright, that she'd be able to get scholarships.

She'd gotten to go to Atlas Park once; even though she was born and had lived all her life in Paragon City, Jessica had only been outside Kings Row that one time. They'd gone to see City Hall and learn some more of Paragon's heroic history, especially about Atlas himself. The main part that Jessica remembered was feeling self-conscious in her old shirt with the kool-aid stain and the jeans that she'd outgrown but still had to wear. In Kings Row it didn't stand out so much; most of the kids at her school were poor. In Atlas Park, with the other school groups around in their brightly-colored, new clothes, sneakers that lit up...she was acutely self-conscious.

Still, it didn't keep her from studying, from working toward those eventual scholarships. She hoped to take her current project to the Paragon Science Fair, if she won tomorrow's at school. Jessica was fairly sure she was a shoe-in, anyway-- most of the other projects involved feeding plants Coca-Cola, or making bubbles, or (among the more ambitious) connecting lightbulbs to batteries. She was about finished building a laser.

"Gettin' a little far from home, aintcha, little girl?"

Jessica pushed her glasses back up her nose, turning toward the voice. A figure detached itself from the shadows of an alley nearby; it was too dark to make out any features until he stepped more into the light, showing a skull-like mask over his face.

"I'm just out walking," she said, fidgeting once more with her shirt. This time to keep from bolting— she was trying to be brave, Uncle Jay always said she should be a brave girl. "I'm not doin' anything, just walking. M-my parents are arguing..." She saw more come out of the alley, and felt her stomach clench nervously. Gotta be brave, gotta be brave... "I don't have any money, my mom wants me to start babysitting or whatever but I don't have any money or anything. I mean, I'm just ten..." Mom had said criminals do bad things to girls...

"Maybe we got somethin' we want you to do for us. You do it? We'll give you a bit of money. Easy as pie." The one speaking exchanged a look with one of the others, who reached into a pocket. At this point there were about five around her.

"I—I don't know about this—"

A small package was shoved in her face. "Take this. Hide it for us for the next two days. Don't let no one see it. You do that? We'll give you enough money for a new bike or somethin' clean to wear."

Jessica looked from the package to the Skull holding it. What was in it that she had to hide for them? What if she said no, what would happen? She knew they had something, now...and they knew she knew. What if they did something to her family? There wasn't really a choice, was there? It all made even Jessica's head swim, a bit overwhelming. "I—okay, I will...just promise nothin'll happen to my family."

A grin came to the Skull's face. "Well, do what we say, don't tell no one, and no one'll know anything and won't come after you, will they?"

Jessica shoved it inside her jacket, then turned and ran. Her face burned at the laughter echoing off the buildings behind her.

A familiar, rumbling voice penetrated the haze that clung to her mind. She smiled automatically, instinctively, at the sound-- in this dimness before full awareness all that her mind would process was that it belonged to something, or someone close to her heart. The words slipped into her consciousness, her eyes slowly blinking open to focus on the scarred face that looked down upon her.

"You--" She coughed. "You shouldn't...rush a lady."

Miss Nox struggled to sit up; even that strain wasn't enough to dampen her mouth. "But...I don't see any here...ugh, god, I feel like I got jumped by a dozen Freakshow tanks, didn't even see that last hit coming..."

As she awoke more memories flooded her mind. Siren's Call, and more recently, Warburg...her near-suicidal charge into the group of rogue Arachnos. Jessica remembered her mindset during that debacle with dismay; the emotional instability, the sheer anger with which he had attacked the soldiers, the way she hadn't even cared what happened to her.

"I'm no kind of hero," she said suddenly, looking up at him. The worst memory was the rush she had felt as she was hitting them, the way her anger fueled her blows, the way she had felt better and better the more she had hurt them. All of it scared her.

His face was barely in focus, without her glasses-- which were probably still in pieces on the ground outside-- but she saw him enough to register his expression. The slight narrowing of his eyes, the arch of an eyebrow. She felt his hands slide around her waist to help her sit upright.

"I only caught the tail end of that," he replied, "But since when does beating the crap out of creepy metal spiders make you a bad person?"

Jessica couldn't look at him, even though she knew he was the last person who'd pass judgement on her for what she considered shameful conduct. "I just...I lost it. I was upset, and started fighting...forgot my mission, didn't care what happened, I just wanted to...hurt someone. It was like everything...everyone...who ever made me mad, coming out at once, and I just hit them over and over...the more I hurt them, the easier it got...the better it felt..." Her voice trailed off at that, gaze focusing on the cuff of his sleeve. She couldn't bring herself to look at him yet, to look him in the eye. Not after what had happened, between Siren's Call and Warburg.

"Thank you," she said at length. Her voice was almost inaudible. The silence afterward stretched out between them, broken only by the sound of their breathing. His slow and deep, hers still somewhat shallow and labored. His hands hadn't left her waist, though. At length he spoke.

"Jess," Was that...amusement in his voice? "That's what we-- Brutes call a 'blind fury'. We're just the ones who admit to having 'em. Hell, we thrive on that. You think that makes you dirty or something, that you got emotional?" One of his hands moved from her waist, and she could hear him scratching the back of his neck. "It just makes you emotional, period. We both know everyone gets that way. Hero or villain. Gets pissed off and loses it."

She felt his finger under her chin, turning her face up to meet his eyes. "You're not gonna run off to the Isles with me and start beating people to a bloody pulp on a daily basis, are you?" Was that a hopeful note in his voice? The corner of his lips twitched upward, eyebrows raising slightly; she couldn't help but smile in return even as she shook her head. "Nah, you didn't lose it."

Jessica continued to smile just a touch, giving an almost sheepish shrug. "You're not gonna run away to Paragon with me, are you? Though I head St. Martial isn't bad, for being over there...kinda like this area's own little Vegas."

His reply was a rather derisive snort. "St. Martial's not so hot. Giza twerps and all. Nerva's much better...I like the jungles. Wild, savage...besides. Johnny Sonata's a soulless dick. Literally."

She leaned against him, silent for a moment. Her eyes closed as well; even beneath the smell of broken pavement, gun oil, and metal that seemed pervasive in Warburg, she could pick up his scent. That faint touch of cigar smoke, the leather from the costume he sometimes wore, and the slight hint of iron beneath that, from old blood. It was a very...villainous scent, but one that made her blood tingle. "I wish I could take you to Croatoa. I mean...you gotta get around the Fir Bolg and redcaps and all...but there's this beautiful pond, where all these sprites float about at night. Just little points of light, really beautiful...

"I'm sorry, Frank. Just...for all of it. I don't know if you'd want to...but...I could pretend nothing happened...I'm sorry for what caused it, and just leaving--" He cut her off, pressing his thumb to her lips. He knew what she was doing; she was rambling, talking because she was nervous. And he wasn't having any of it.

Slowly his thumb slid from her lips, dragging briefly over her lower lip. "I did mean what I said, though," she whispered. He was silent, his face impassive for the moment.

But he did lean down and kiss her more gently than he ever had before, and gathered her into his lap. Jessica was content with that answer as her lips found his once more.

The Present.

Misty Joines, now known throughout the Rogue Isles as a Stalker called the Angry Cheerleader, sat on one of the immense spiderweb cables over Grandville. She was Hiding, of course; except for some Wailers at the fringes of St. Martial and a few Circle of Thorns toward the northern reaches of Nerva, most potential enemies in the other parts of the Rogue Isles were beneath her regard and wouldn't think of attacking her on their own. They knew who she was, and they wanted to continue breathing. For the most part, Misty left them alone; though sometimes she did forget to take her medication...oh well, too bad for them.

Grandville was another matter. Here she was the one who had to be on her guard, between the Bane Spiders-- some of whom could Hide just like she could-- and new kinds of robot-spiders and even the ugly-[censored] Arachnoids...all of whom wouldn't mind beating up on one of the 'supervillains' recruited by Recluse. It was all allowed, of course. Misty had learned quickly that the Rogue Isles were about survival of the fittest. Sometimes it meant banding together with other villains, and she'd found her own group, which even included the man who'd busted her out of her cell at the Zig.

Oh, sure, she didn't like all of them-- but for the most part, they were more tolerable than pretty much anyone from her former life. Of course, her only tie to her former life was her sister Amy, to whom she still wrote, and to whom she was writing now. Not that she told Amy everything, she had to be discreet sometimes, but it was kind of nice being able to write sometimes. E-mail usually; she might write stuff out in a notepad, but it ended up being put on her laptop later. Maybe she'd write to that guy from her old school too-- who still maintained what seemed to be a fansite about her. She did that sometimes...it was kinda weird but neat having fans, who were positively thrilled at her recent exploits in Paragon City itself.

Not that the robberies had been her first trip back-- no, that first trip was to earn the right to wear a cape, and she'd gone against none other than Doc Quantum himself. "Miss me?" she'd said, before the fight began. It ended with her tearing the cape from his shoulders, and later trading it off to the Facemaker for the most adorable scarf, that looked much cuter with her cheerleading outfit. (Which also had been remade by the facemaker, accessorized by shiny, pretty chains and fishnets. How very fun!)

Now she was here, in Grandville. Where the elite among the villainous sector went. Where Lord Recluse and his lieutenants themselves were-- where she'd earned the regard of the lieutenant called Scirocco. Hee. He was so nice, it made it even better when she thought about what he could do, what she'd heard he was capable of. So what if he commanded those creepy floating bondage dudes? He'd chosen her to be one of those he guided-- she felt almost giddy, like when her ex-boyfriend had first asked her out ages ago.

It just sucked that she had to wait until she was considered more of a 'threat' to be able to get more missions from him. But that was okay-- she'd get there soon, to see her patron again. Until then, she got to play around with this red lightning he'd taught her to use. It went well with the way her eyes glowed red now, and coordinated with her uniform.

Yes, Misty was happy. She smiled, swinging her ankles as she sat on one of the Web's strands.

Once she'd been thought dead...but now? She couldn't imagine feeling more alive.

October 31, 2005. 9:32am.

She'd heard all about it by now. The media latched onto the multiple homicide with glee, like vultures. They called her 'the angry cheerleader'-- a botched homicide come back for revenge. It was the talk of her hometown, and Steel Canyon itself. Misty Joines, who everyone had thought dead, had come back-- and had superpowers. Then had killed the three accused of her murder, the same three she'd kicked off the squad that day in September. She even heard that some kid at her former high school-- the name rang a distant bell, one of the 'reject' types-- had set up a website devoted to her. Following her case, with some people on some forum even singing her praises.

Huh. Wasn't that funny. Misty figured it paid off to not pick on any one group in the end. The rejects and outcasts and all were the kind who noticed when someone did that, instead of singling them out. Their favorite equal-opportunity [censored], apparently.

They'd put her in solitary, looking to try her as an adult for first-degree murder (ironically enough). She was undergoing psychiatric evaluation, which she suffered patiently enough. Misty didn't feel insane, she didn't care about trying to hide behind that sort of defense, so what did it matter to her? Her dad was refraining from saying anything about this case. Her whole family practically disowned her, except her older sister, Amy, who kept writing to her.

The Zig's main psychiatrist said something about 'antisocial personality disorder'. Misty had no idea what that was, but just tolerated the endless questions. What did it matter? She was pretty sure that if the prosecution had its way and she got tried as an adult-- she was seventeen, after all, practically one anyway-- she'd end up getting life in prison. (She was pretty sure they didn't do the death penalty here, but wasn't totally certain.)

It wasn't like she regretted any of what she'd done, not even killing the poodle. It needed doing, they needed to pay for what they did to her. It was just a bonus that she could scare them first, and unfortunate that she got caught like she did. Besides. She took six bullets to the chest-- and was just dandy now. How was that for badass? But she did miss that tingle of energy...stupid nullifiers. Or whatever it was they used to suppress what she could do now.

Maybe they'd let her out today...the others in the Zig's Women's Facility tended to avoid her anyway. Apparently she creeped most of them out for some reason, which was fine. Misty didn't particularly feel up to socializing with any of them, or telling some of the more uppity women that she didn't want to be their girlfriend. Ick. She thought that stuff only happened in the men's area.

Whatever. Misty yawned, and went back to what she was doing.

Dear Amy, The food here is awful...

--------

December 25, 2005. 10:18pm.

She'd been in a dead sleep when the sound of her cell door banging open made her wake with a start. Misty blinked at the form in the door, moments later registering it as a huge man in what looked like torn black leather, wrapped in barbed wire. He grabbed her hands in one of his and jerked her to her feet, then broke the wrist-devices that had been used to nullify her powers as if they'd been made of cheap plastic.

"Get outta here," he growled at her, before leaving. Misty stood there and blinked a few moments longer, processing what exactly was going on; then she heard the alarms going off all around her. There was just a moment's thought and hesitation before she stripped, taking off the orange jumpsuit she'd been wearing and putting on her old Steel Canyon High cheerleading uniform that her older sister had sent. A souvenir of sorts, that Misty had requested and been granted.

She made a run for it, noting with amusement that many of the cells were still shut. Apparently not everyone was to be let out in this particular jailbreak. They sent her to some guy over toward the men's area, who in turn sent her to someone else. Contacts, it seemed, steps toward getting her out of there. Jeez, there were a lot of the guys in black armor all around...hey, a couple of them looked kinda cute, too. Nice, tight pants. Why couldn't one of them be her contact? Oh well.

One of them, some dude named Morben, sent her on to some dude who looked like he hung out with the Tsoo. She knew who they were, they hung out a lot in Steel. Apparently she had to smack a few of the other convicts around before they'd help her out of here. Something about 'proving her strength to Lord Recluse'. Whatever. As long as it got her out of here...

Four convicts, a few security guards, and a rescued pilot later, she was on the Arachnos flyer headed for the Rogue Isles to talk to some woman named Kalinda.

Misty smiled and leaned back in her seat. It had been a good day; she started composing her next letter to her sister in her head.

Dear Amy, You won't believe what happened today...

October 7th, 2005. 4:27am.

Misty Joines' body had never been found. Which made sense, as Misty was just now waking up on a deserted beach around Independence Port. She had no idea how much time had passed, or even where she was, exactly. In fact, there wasn't much going on her mind right about then except processing everything her long-unused senses fed her brain.

Bit by bit, memories trickled back into her head. The Saturday afternoon practice. Her plans for the evening. The barely-heard discussion about what to do with her body. The three voices she identified as the girls she'd kicked off the squad just that day. Her missing Prada heels and handbag. Her ruined Gucci dress.

If they had thought she was angry then...they hadn't seen anything yet.

--------

October 8, 2005. 2:21am.

She was still in Independence Port; she had to hide from the people and...things here. She'd seen the Council before, they liked to preach in Steel Canyon, but she hadn't seen the mafia-types before. They paled in comparison to the huge creatures that stalked around the beach where she'd washed up, though; things that miraculously hadn't seen her. Things that looked like they were made of rocks, or of crystals, or even of plants and mushrooms. Her memory put the name devouring earth to them, weird creatures mentioned in the paper sometimes but that she'd kind of thought were about as real as Area 51. (Then again, remember the Rikti invasion...proof that aliens did exist.)

When she sought her hiding place, she discovered something about her had changed; she could make herself invisible. Misty had thought that over, about the possibilities. Having powers like one of the heroes-- but every time she thought of that, her mind shifted toward what had gotten her here. What they'd done to her and her outfit. Her anger never truly abated, but just kept building on itself, bit by bit, until it dominated her entire being.

She'd get her revenge. She'd get out of here, she'd use this new ability to get back into the small suburb next to Steel Canyon that had been her home, and currently held those three. She was going to make them pay.

Misty snuck past a group of Council-- bit of a shame about one of them, he was kind of cute beneath his goggles-- and moved toward a clothing store. Pausing briefly to get a newspaper someone had tossed aside, both to get the date and to see if there was any mention of what happened to her. October 8th...nearly a month had passed.

Joines Family Angered over Trial Postponement.

Trial...postponement. The article talked about how the families of the three girls had immediately posted bail after they were caught, about her dad's fight to have them tried as adults for First-degree Murder. And somehow, the trial ended up being postponed for an unspecified period of time, with the three accused being put on restriction. She knew what would happen; even though her dad was a good lawyer, she knew they'd somehow get away with a slap on the wrist, through things like bribery. Just because they called Paragon City a "City of Heroes" didn't mean things were all gravy behind the scenes, after all. Misty had never wanted to believe that, but it was true.

That was when something inside her just...snapped.

--------

October 8, 2005. 5:05am.

Part of her deep down considered it a shame, what she'd done to the poor security guard at that clothing store. But that more determined, more vindictive part-- the part in control-- considered it a necessary evil. He was in the way, and besides...his death had shown her more of what she could do. She'd felt the energy channeled through her body into her fists, giving them a glowing pink-white aura as she broke his jaw then crushed the side of his head. Thanks to him, she knew what she was going to do to the three girls who thought they'd killed her.

It had been incredibly easy sneaking into the first house; all she had to do was be silent as she moved, as she let herself into their house. A sudden growling was heard near her feet-- a toy poodle had apparently sensed something. It wasn't looking at her, but it knew something was there. She'd never liked that dog anyway.

A bloody mess on the floor later, she was moving upstairs, having once again drawn that invisibility around herself. It probably had something to do with the glowy stuff around her fists sometimes, but Misty didn't really think into it too much. It would do what she wanted it to do, and that was what mattered. The girl's door was easy to identify, with its insipid little cherub picture. Angels, her [censored]. She wondered what angel would have the nerve to protect her now.

Once inside, Misty stood above her bed for a moment. Debating whether she'd just hit her, and never let her wake up...or wake her up so that her former teammate saw who was putting an end to her worthless little life. She seemed able to hit harder when she was hiding; but really, how likely was this [censored] going to survive anyway?

Misty just smiled, letting the invisibility fall away. "Wake up, little girl...you're not dreaming," she said in a little singsong, feeling the now-familiar tingle in her fists as the energy gathered there.

In that moment between comprehension and the inevitable scream, Misty struck. Her fist first crushed the girl's throat, turning what would have been a scream into a wheeze. The next hit was square in the face, shattering all of her bones. Only fitting, to ruin her looks and make sure it had to be a closed-casket funeral. She learned from their mistake when they thought they'd killed her; she stayed until she was sure the girl had died before sneaking back out.

The act of killing had sent a weird thrill through her body; this was what living was all about. It made her glad she'd never slept with her boyfriend, too...there was no way that could hope to compare to this strange joy in knowing she had that ultimate control, that she could slip in and out undetected, committing the perfect homicide. Knowing she could end a life just like that. A little part of her might have pulled back in revulsion, her former self, but all bets were off, now. She was presumed dead? Well, she was back now...and that trial was going to be postponed, allright.

A snippet from Chicago ran through her head: It was a murder, but not a crime...

--------

October 8, 2005. 5:31am.

Now that had been cool. That time she'd gotten to do a double-- there had been a boy in the bed with the second girl, while her parents were out of town. This time she hadn't taken a chance with coming out of hiding; she just struck, hitting them both simultaneously. Like the first hit with the first girl, she went for the throat, completely crushing their windpipes; again, she waited until she was certain they were dead before she left.

It seemed as though nothing could wipe the smile from her face as she jogged into the woods behind the house, taking that familiar path to the next neighborhood over in which girl number three lived.

--------

October 8, 2005. 5:53am.

Now this was quite a surprise. Girl number three also had a nighttime visitor, though her parents were home...and that nighttime visitor just happened to be Misty's boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. The boy who had been her boyfriend the night they tried to kill her. He had to have been on it-- this couldn't have been a spur-of-the-moment thing. It was a conspiracy against her, it was premeditated like Daddy claimed.

And now the [censored] was sleeping with her boyfriend. Figured. He couldn't get her to put out, so he turned to this no-talent ho. She'd definitely be waking them up before she landed her killing blows. Misty was no longer smiling, but her eagerness and anticipation was in no way lessened. First her ex-- she could probably risk a scream from Girl Three, and just rely on her ability to hide to get her out of there quickly. On the other hand, there was that chance they might somehow survive...nah. Her self-defense classes had taught her that death came pretty quickly when you crushed someone's windpipe, and that seemed to be the most effective hit with this newfound ability, when she didn't want to toy with them.

Her vindictive nature won out over practicality; she would wake them up before killing them. Misty smiled slightly, eyes narrowing...and she sang to them, softly. That song that had been 'their song'.

"You're really lovely, underneath it all / you want to love me, underneath it all / I'm really lucky, underneath it all..."

It did the trick; they both woke up, in time for Girl Three to see Misty land that happy little killing blow on the boy. He only got out a brief sound before he lost consciousness; her practice with that hit meant that now there wouldn't even be a little wheeze like there'd been with the first. Of course, it gave Three a good chance to get out a scream, but she'd anticipated that-- and put an end to it quickly enough. First, with her hand around the girl's throat, leaning in close to hiss out some final words for the girl.

"You went to my church, you oughta remember-- do unto others, [censored]." Then as with the first, she did a one-two with a punch to the throat and then to the face. Misty was ready to leave now in triumph, having accomplished her set goal.

Those moments of indulgence, unfortunately, were her undoing; the scream had roused the parents, and she didn't even have a chance to try and dodge before taking six bullets squarely in the chest. Even with her altered physiology, and knowing even this probably wouldn't kill her...the blood loss was enough that she was weakened and unable to escape, the glowing energy around her fists fading then flickering out as she slid to the floor.

She wasn't yet unconscious when the authorities arrived: a team of Paragon Policemen, and a costumed hero. Doc Quantum, they called him. Misty looked the hero squarely in the eye, and hoped he saw every bit of her satisfaction over what she'd done, and the intense hatred she was feeling for all of them right them.

"Where were you when they killed me?" she asked him in a whisper, before passing out.

The origin of the one called 'the Angry Cheerleader'...

----------------------------------------

September 17, 2005. 5:30pm.

"Smack them down, kick 'em around, Steel Canyon's gonna hold that ground! Smack them down, kick 'em around, Steel Canyon's gonna hold! That! GROUND!"

Misty jumped back to her feet at the cheer's conclusion, throwing her pompoms to the ground as she whipped around to face two of her squad members. What had been a bright smile on her pretty face had turned within half a moment to a rather considerable anger; her team was used to these lightning-quick changes in mood and temper, but this time it had a definite target.

"This whole [censored] season you three've been half a beat off the rest of us! No matter how much I drill you, you just. Don't. Learn!" They knew she was gaining momentum at this point; she could tell by the way they started shifting their weight from foot to foot. "I even got the [censored] Drum Line out here in the hopes that maybe it would beat an ounce of some vague semblance of the slightest notion of something bearing a resemblance to rhythm into your heads!

"Apparently all it did was bang your two braincells together hard enough to knock each of them out." Brown eyes narrowed at them. "That's it. That's IT. I've had it with your stupidity. You're out. All three of you. We don't need you, and you're making the rest of us look bad. Get out of here."

They didn't move-- they were probably shocked that she'd actually gone through with what rumor had said would happen. That only served to incense her further; Misty was sick of people she saw as incompetent. Inferior. People who didn't seem to care about what they needed to do. "Do you not understand English? Or did that five-dollar Wal-Mart bleach kill your ears as well as your hair? I said get out! I don't wanna see you near this squad ever again!"

Misty stooped down, picking her pompoms up again before stalking off toward the locker room. "Practice over. Get out of here, all of you."

She didn't understand it. Why were people that stupid? What more could she do to make them see what they were doing wrong? It wasn't that she didn't like them-- well, okay, she didn't. But Misty Joines wasn't really known for liking much of anyone. She knew it was pretty harsh criticism of her, but it also was something in her favor-- she didn't pick on one group in particular, unlike some of the others. She didn't care if someone was a jock, a geek, a skater, whatever. For the most part, they all sucked, and she'd be glad to get out of high school and away from them.

Still, she couldn't stand people who just didn't get it. She tried and tried, and gave more chances than she should have-- and they still just didn't get it. The time had come to get rid of dead weight, if they had hopes of coming in first instead of second place at State in the spring. And the rest of the squad would just have to get over it.

Misty sighed, stepping out of the locker room shower, towel wrapped around herself and another in her hair, flipflops squelching across the floor back to her locker. A garment bag hung there-- the dress she was going to be wearing on her date tonight. She'd considered just getting dressed at her boyfriend's house...but a little vindictive part of herself decided to get ready here. They could see that new Gucci dress, with her Prada handbag and matching heels, bought with Daddy's credit card as an apology for his being gone on her birthday. They could see them, and be jealous. So there.

She hummed to herself later as she walked toward her Jeep, listening happily to the click of her heels on the pavement. Go to her boyfriend's house, have a nice date, go home and get her outfit ready for church tomorrow morning. Really, despite the afternoon's bout of anger at the three most useless girls in the world, it was a good day, and she was in a good mood once again.

Which was why she never saw it coming.

--------

September 17, 2005. 10:41pm.

Their first mistake was when they didn't make sure she was dead. Misty was alive, if barely, and just barely conscious. Conscious enough to know what happened, what was intended, and who had done it.

Conscious enough to decide-- even with her body covered in her own blood, sharp pains shooting through her entire body, her head aching, and wrapped loosely in black plastic-- she would get through this somehow. She'd see them locked away for doing this to her.

Conscious enough to wonder, as she heard mention of Independence Port, where the countless heroes normally hanging around Steel Canyon were.

Alone at last.
---

Abhorrent looked down at the unconscious form of the hero laid out on the bare mattress before him. The darkened apartment, long ago abandoned and pre-dating even the Council's occupation of Warburg, was bare of all save a few items of furniture, the bed among them. Through the old wooden blinds over the window he could see the occasional faint flash of battle; it was impossible to tell whether it was between heroes, villains, or the rogue Arachnos that had taken over. Perhaps even the Malta monstrosities that were occasionally glimpsed. He had not yet felt the rumble from underground of a rocket being launched...thankfully. This was one of those few times he truly desired quiet.

She looked helpless. He'd never seen her like this, he'd never watched her sleep-- even if this was unconsciousness, not sleep. She had always woken up before him, greeting him with the sight of her smiling brightly. He couldn't even remember the color of her eyes, just the expressions they reflected, and the way they sparkled no matter the emotion. It was not in her nature to be helpless; that was one of the things about her that had drawn him. That is, after the corset and double D-cups. He was male, after all, even his toxin-induced changes hadn't changed that.

Still, those were even now far from his mind, even with the tattered state of her costume. He focused on her face, sinking to his knees beside the bed, one large hand reaching out to take her comparatively tiny one in his grasp. Abhorrent-- no, at this moment he was not the villain Abhorrent, he was the man Frank Roslin. Frank remained where he was, losing track of the minutes as they ticked by. Watching her for signs of life, that her body mended itself during this deep, vulnerable rest. It wouldn't be hard for him to reach out and snap her neck...he had turned off her teleportation beacon, so that they were completely alone. He could kill her where she lay, and present her dead body triumphantly to his superiors. Reap the glory of defeating one of Paragon City's heroes, and a formidable one at that. Add to his already impressive reputation in the Rogue Isles, as a warning for those, hero or villain, who would seek his downfall.

Even as his hands clenched reflexively, he knew he could not do such a thing. She had wormed her way beneath his skin, and he watched over her with a fierce protectiveness. One intense enough to lead him to challenge one of his own associates for the right to her-- the right to kill her, or so he let them believe. It was all about appearances in the Rogue Isles...and perhaps in Paragon City as well.

Maybe, just maybe, he had a glimmer of understanding as to why she had defeated him in Siren's Call that time, before any of the other swarming heroes had the chance.

He bent over her, lips brushing her ear as he whispered. "Jessica..."

A ghost of a smile touched his forbidding face, as he brushed a few strands of red hair from her face. "Jess...damnit, woman, wake up already. I'm not waiting all night."

Squaring off over the fallen...
---

His massive hand clenched more tightly around the long blonde ponytail; the brief pull at the roots of the Stalker's hair would give an appropriate glimpse of his strength-- though she already knew how much, and how exponentially, stronger the Brute was-- before he released it. As she whipped about to face him, he stepped between her and the fallen hero.

"What. The. F***." He found himself the recipient of an angry glare from glowing pink-red eyes. "That was totally MY hero, Ab, fair and square. Go find your own to kill."

Abhorrent absently loosened his necktie some, maintaining his cold and impassive facade as he kept himself between his fellow villain and the hero. His eyes narrowed behind the dark glasses, that in no way diminished the menacing look of the parallel claw-marks over one side of his face. Though he turned his face toward the scattering remnants of the Rogue Arachnos, his eyes remained on the young woman as she stood impatiently, chain-wrapped fists planted on her hips. There was nothing relaxed in his posture, though; the tension in his muscles, the steady, brief rise and fall of his massive chest, all spoke of an immense and barely coiled power, even though he refrained from his usual costume this time around.

He didn't wear the costume much these days...his heart hadn't been in it for a while now. Petty squabbles, useless threats, nefarious plots, blah blah blah. All the same. It had all started to run together into a long, senseless grind... But it had gotten him power. It had gotten him status. He was stronger than he'd ever been, stronger than most people ever lasted long enough to get. Strong enough to stand between Misty and an easy kill without fear.

Maybe not the smartest move. They were equally deadly, and he'd long since managed to master a good deal of his instability; the Stalker seemed to revel in her own, despite the medication she'd been given to calm it. So...standing between her and her chosen kill was perhaps not a smart move. But a necessary one.

He let his lips stretch into an easy, superior smirk, staring the young woman down. "I like this one. I think I'm going to find some private tunnels with her...maybe fire off my own rocket." He quirked an eyebrow in the direction of the hidden Longbow base he knew she'd targeted. "But you've got a mission to do."

Abhorrent watched Misty's features shift into a sullen frown. She even kicked a nearby rock. He knew what was going through her mind-- she was rather transparent. He knew she weighed the pros and cons of taking him on, knew she was trying to judge whether it was worth pitting her quick reflexes against one of his killing blows long enough to get in her own hits. He knew she stood a good chance of winning, if quick enough. But he also knew, as well as she, that such inside squabbling in their alliance could call down the wrath of the group's leader, Miss Anthropy. Neither of them liked the idea of being frozen and irradiated, particularly.

"Can't you, like, find some ****** in Port Oakes? I'll totally loan you the money if you need it. Gah. Someone always has to ruin my fun. Why's it have to be my hero? It's not fair." She glared up at him more.

He didn't move, nor change expression. He knew she'd back down-- it was a matter of sheer willpower at this point, and he had his greater age and experience behind him. She'd had a meteoric rise in the Rogue Isles, shooting from the absolute bottom to the highest possible threat level within a matter of months, and at the age of eighteen...but it meant she had far less time to acquire the experience of actually living. He was tougher in spirit than she was.

He stared back at her, and she backed down. Her features shifted from a frown to a pout, before she turned and flounced away. He heard her muttering curses as she leapt away, watching until she faded out of sight. Then it was a matter of making sure no others looked on, that there was no fresh squad of Rogue Arachnos nor other superpowered types around.

Once satisfied that they were relatively alone, he dropped to his knees beside the unconscious hero, taking only a moment to search her costume for the hidden emergency teleportation beacon he knew she wore. A flick of the thumb, and the device was turned off to ensure no interruptions. From there...all that was left to do was find that secluded, secret place.

Large arms slipped beneath her battered body, carefully lifting her up; he hesitated a moment, to look down at her and cradle her more closely to his chest. Keeping her safe and protected as a powerful push from his legs propelled them into the air.

The mind of an opportunistic Stalker...
---

Hee hee hee...stupid hero...

If it weren't for the fact that she was invisible, Misty would probably be singing. Something like I enjoy being a Stalker or something of the sort. This was the best part of what she did, when she could sneak up to some oblivious hero-- especially one like this chick, who looked like she was gonna fall over anyway-- and deliver the Ultimate Sucker-Punch with what she fondly called her Glowy Pom-poms of Doom.

Hee. SO much fun. So so so much fun. Though if I break a nail, I'm gonna be pissed and she's gonna PAY...

Sneaksneaksneak...sneaksneaksneak...

Her cute red sneakers made no sound as she approached her target, fists held close to herself, lower lip between her teeth in her focus. Sure, there was still a Longbow base to bomb, but nothing said she couldn't have a little fun on the way, right?

Besides, she was twitchy. Stupid Arachnos contact for some reason didn't want her to kill anyone last time, and Misty was getting restless. What was the fun in kidnapping? The idiots didn't know how to follow her anyway, and she couldn't really threaten them with death for refusing to let her put leashes on them.

Stupid freaking Arachnos, anyway. Didn't they know that red and black was so overdone for villains? It was, like, totally cliche. Though she did have to admit, the Night Widows looked pretty sharp with the purple trim, instead of red.

Oh! Getting off track. Hero to kill, right. Maybe she could get in a killing blow before the teleporter kicked in...that'd totally rock. DoA, baby. Score another one for the Angry Cheerleader.

Why did they still call her that, anyway? She wasn't really angry these days. Maybe when she first started, but still...oh well. It worked. What else would she go by? And it was totally fun fighting in the Facemaker's revamping of her old Steel Canyon High uniform. What did she want to get there next? She changed her uniforms as often as she changed her socks. A girl just got restless sometimes. Hell, she even commissioned a cowgirl outfit, for fun.

Hero. Hero hero hero hero hero.

That's right. Getting off track. Hero-killing now, then costume and maybe sushi later. There was a kinda cute guy she met in Nerva anyway, who said he liked sushi. There was this restaurant in the Giza that had the absolute BEST, she'd have to get him to take her there, then maybe go Carnie-hunting later to the happy calliope music. Misty always liked how they screamed before they collapsed.

HERO. Hero. Focus.

Sneak sneak sneak...crouch down, fists glowing with pink energy, hero still oblivious...then BAM!

The hero went tumbling to the ground, knocked out cold but still alive. Misty smirked, channeling her very own life's energy into the next hit, to make it a decisive one that would definitely put the b***h down. She drew back her fist, glowing eyes narrowing--

--Only to find herself jerked backward by something or someone grabbing her ponytail, making her stumble a moment...

When there's no other outlet for one's feelings...


Warburg was unsettling. She just didn't like the thought of a place in which heroes attacked each other. Not that she didn't want to smack quite a few upside the head, but still...the 'free for all' notion that the place seemed to foster just didn't sit well with her, so she kept to the assigned missions. She didn't go stalking other heroes, but she'd defend herself if she had to. She just didn't like Warburg. Something about this place surely drove people mad.

But it kept one on one's toes, and that was a distraction Jessica-- Miss Nox needed right about now. Even with the lingering ache of her head, her body punishing her for yet another night's drinking binge, she needed this distraction.

She hadn't set foot in Bloody Bay since that blow-up with Frank-- no no, not Frank, Abhorrent, she reminded herself; she needed to try and establish more mental distance. There had been no manner of communication from him, either. (Though to be fair, she hadn't tried getting in touch recently.) She was admittedly afraid of what seeing him again would bring. Avoiding him so that there wouldn't be that closure of which she was afraid. Ironic, wasn't it? Trying to never see him, in the name of making sure nothing formally ended between them.

Sometimes even she found her own logic baffling.

Mind to the present, idiot hero, she reminded herself. Don't think about him. He's probably out...robbing a bank somewhere. Or, god forbid, beating up more Longbow...don't think about him, think about your mission here...

One by one she cracked her knuckles, crouched beneath a foot-bridge not far from the warehouse that was her destination. The footsteps of rogue Arachnos soldiers sounded nearby, their steady, unison beat accompanied by the shouting of a woman's voice issuing commands. Probably one of those Fortunatas, or whatever they called him. From another direction there came the quiet shifting of metal parts and the surprisingly quiet fall of metal arachnid feet on the pavement-- one of their giant robot spiders, whatever they were called.

Miss Nox wasn't worried about the rogue Arachnos. They could be a tough fight, but she'd thus far proven herself to be even tougher. The real worries came from the other superpowered sorts-- the villains, and to an extent, heroes. She hadn't yet gotten a launch code for one of the rockets in this zone, as it wasn't precisely a great concern of hers...besides, tugging one of those scientists around was like painting a bullseye on her back. Thanks, but no thanks.

She had wrapped herself in that cloak of familiar negative energy, that obscured her from sight except to those nearby; another moment of concentration let her calm and center herself enough to wrap her mind in a similar shield against the psionic attacks used by most Widows or those godawful Tarantula Mistresses. Then some energy shielding, against the soldiers and drones and the like...and she was as ready as she could be. The 'cloak' would let her get the first hit in before they knew she was there, which was to her advantage; it made her harder to hit when they wanted to retaliate. It had always frustrated Frank when they'd spar, and he'd find himself missing more than hitting--

Miss Nox kicked herself mentally. Again. A more fatalistic mindset started to set in, contradicting her earlier wishes for no definite ending. Stop thinking about him. He doesn't care, he's a criminal, you were just a nice, illicit thrill, Jess. He didn't go after you when you left, he didn't say he loved you too, he hasn't tried to get in touch, he probably found some-- some tramp in fishnets by now--

But was it true, or did she just make it up to at once torment herself and make herself feel better? Despite his criminal tendencies and occasional psychosis...he wasn't really that bad a guy. He'd brought her a little snowglobe pyramid bought for her in St. Martial, at the huge casino there. He always knew the right off-color jokes to make her sides ache from laughter. He was even willing to let her teach him how to dance, provided it was only done in private and no one else was told about it. Some of those nights they were together, he'd ramble on about his plans for eventual retirement, while she cuddled up to his side and listened. He was a criminal, but he'd been her criminal. It was easier to handle things if she tried to demonize him in her mind...

She squeezed her eyes shut, tightly. Now was the absolute worst time to get teary-eyed again. She hadn't made it to clearance level thirty-three by being a whiny baby-- it was time to pull herself together. What kind of hero would she be if she let a broken heart stop her? She couldn't imagine Manticore being stopped like that-- and he was, of all the big-name Freedom Phalanx members, her personal hero. Her friend Tirador had once joked about getting her a bracelet that said, "WWMD?": What Would Manticore Do?

He'd do what needed to be done, that's what. Then later, after the job had been finished and it was time to rest, maybe think about the 'other' stuff...friends, former loves, and the like. Not that Jessica knew for certain, but it was what she imagined he'd do. And she could do the same. Just take her frustration out on the rogues, hit and hit and hit until they or she fell, ignoring the pain and stress on her body in the interest of showing these rogues that the heroes were not to be trifled with...

Her chosen battle-cry, its humorous undertones absent this time around, echoed in her mind; it was voiced not in a yell this time, but a hoarse whisper. Carpe noctem, b***hes.

Once again she cracked her knuckles, then darted out from under the sheltering bridge. Dark energy coiled around her fists as the pounding of her stiletto heels on the concrete matched the pounding of her pulse in her ears. Teeth clenched, red lips drawing back in almost a snarl as she threw herself in the middle of the group of rogue Arachnos.

A flurry of punches and one smashing uppercut took out the Blood Widow before her, while she felt the psionic bolt of a Tarantula Mistress shatter on her mental defenses. Two consecutive energy blasts-- or whatever it was that came out of the end of the mace she saw many soldiers carrying-- did edge past her dark armor to propel her a few steps forward. Her body automatically twisted, though, using the momentum to twirl in a spinning punch to the back of a soldier's neck, right below the helmet where his armor had a weaker point, propelling him into the red-hot, scythe-like 'arms' of a fire tarantula that had been moving in for the attack.

Her adrenaline was pumping, heart racing as she launched blow after blow at her opponents, every moment spent spinning and dodging and hitting. The air around her was smoky with the blue-black energy that poured from her very being, the heroic result of an experiment gone awry. The energy that was as much a part of her body and life as the blood rushing through her veins, that not only obscured her enemies' senses but allowed her to heal herself at their expense, and to provide herself a much-needed boost when it seemed as though her body was on the verge of giving out. She was moving almost instinctively, fighting with a single-minded determination on a level she had never before reached. In the midst of it all, a single thought-- a single concept-- penetrated her awareness.

I don't care what happens to me.

With that realization, the world took on a faint red tinge. Suddenly she was not merely fighting Arachnos militants gone rogue, she was fighting what she saw as the living embodiment of everything she hated, of her frustrations and her heartbreak. Whether she triumphed or she fell, she was fighting because she wanted to make someone hurt as much as did.

Tiny frustrations that had built up here and there, about anything and everything, exploded in this moment; for once, instead of suppressing her anger she embraced it and used it to her advantage. She let it fuel her blows, and with each hit made it seemed as though the next was that much more terrible.

Each punch represented a derisive comment from a fellow hero about some citizen or another, or a mocking smirk from some criminal who felt he was above the concept of basic human rights. Each kick was a statement from the elite about keeping their 'hard-earned wealth' while children at her own elementary school back in Kings Row studied obsolete books at broken desks. The spray of blood erupting when her fist was driven into a soldier's face was not simply for the victims 'harvested' by the minions of Vahzilok, but for the Crey experiments on living subjects being overlooked by those in power. The crunch of bone beneath the Fortunata's shattered helm was, finally, for him. Every frustration, every injustice, every inequality surged forth to be pounded into metallic parts and living flesh. Time seemed to be at a standstill.

It was her event horizon, that point of no return where everything afterward was suspended in that moment, in a place of unimaginable gravity. Pulled into that singularity of her undoing.

The blood of her enemies, through whom she had cut a swath like some sort of darkness-fueled tornado, mingled with her own in her mouth, the tastes identical. Only a very few of the rogues stood before her now, and she knew it was in part fear that kept them rooted in place at this point. That deer-in-headlights mentality that overtook the fight-or-flight response as they kept fighting, almost valiantly in their way. She had ridden that wave of rage-fueled adrenaline, and a tiny, horrified voice in her head wondered if this was how he felt when he fought.

She had exhausted herself; those few left could have a chance at finishing her off, even in her uncontrolled state. The leather and fabric of her red and violet uniform, commissioned only a few weeks ago at Icon, clung to her body in shreds. It didn't matter, though. None of it did. Jessica-- for she was more the woman than the hero now, there was very little 'heroic' about any of this-- was still pushing herself forward, surging toward those few remaining even as she felt her negative-energy armor thinning and dissipating with every step. The soldier before her barely had time to aim and fire at her--

--Before an unseen blow came from the side, to send her tumbling into unconsciousness.

It's dangerous enough when a hero and a villain become lovers in secret-- but what happens when they meet each other unexpectedly, in a place like Siren's Call?


Jessica Knox, more commonly known as Miss Nox among heroes, ducked as the lamp shattered on the wall right where her head had been.

She turned briefly, looking at the scratches left on the already battered and peeling wallpaper, then at the remnants of the cheap polyresin decoration, and then at the one who had thrown it at her. His face had taken on a ruddy color-- she knew that was never good. But damnit, she was not going to back down, she was going to stand her ground in this. She had her reasons, and she'd defend them come Hell or high water.

"Do you have any idea how much you humiliated me?!" roared the man before her. Frank Roslin, also called Abhorrent. A villain, a Brute by classification.

She felt her face burn, and knew that her cheeks had turned an unflattering dull pink in her own state of heightened emotion. Lips tightening, eyes narrowing to glittering slits behind her glasses. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, tendrils of negative energy starting to coil around them as she glared back at her oversized lover in the midst of their latest argument. One concerning an unexpected encounter in Siren's Call, that had put her between a rock and a hard place.

"How the f*** was I supposed to know you were in Siren's, much less that you'd be the damned bounty transmitted to us?!" she yelled back. Luckily there was no one else in this abandoned building in Bloody Bay to overhear them...to the best of her knowledge. "Or that my team would decide that they wanted to hunt you down?!"

"You didn't have to f***ing help them!"

Her tone turned scathingly sarcastic. Another form of self-defense... "Oh, right. What should I have told them? 'Gee, sorry guys, I can't go with you after all. You're wanting to hunt down Abhorrent, and he's kind of my boyfriend. Hee hee, oops!'" She snorted in derision.

"So naturally, that meant you had to go after me yourself." He was no stranger to that same sarcasm.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, it did. Because if I had to team with them to keep them from turning on me for being a traitor, I'd be damned if I was going to let anyone else be the one to land that last blow." Her face still burned, and her whole petite frame shook with her anger, the dark energy still curling around her forearms in their own ominous fashion.

"Why, so you'd have f***ing bragging rights? You were the one to beat down the infamous Abhorrent?" He sneered at her, face still flushed. She knew he was nanoseconds away from unleashing his full anger on her.

"Because I couldn't f***ing bear the thought of someone else bragging about doing that! Because I couldn't stand the idea of someone else standing over you, because I didn't want anyone else considering you just another notch on their defeat list!" She spat back. "Because ever since we met, I haven't f***ing stopped worrying that someday, it'll be your last, because of some a**hole who thinks his Hero Corps badge entitles him to do anything the hell he wants is long as he brings in a villain, or that someone here in the Isles will decide taking you out will make him look better to f***ing Arachnos, or-- or-- just-- anything that would mean I'd never see you again!" She finally detached herself from the wall to move toward him, entire body tensed. Even if it meant she had to crane her neck back further to meet his gaze, she was not going to cower against the wall in defense of her actions.

"Is that it? You don't think I can take care of myself? You think you have to protect me? Is that right? What is this, some kind of grand plan to make me a hero? You knew what you were getting into and now you're trying to justify what you did in Siren's Call? Why the f*** do you think you can justify being the one in your whole team to defeat me?! Why do you think you have the right to be the only one to do that, and f***ing humiliate me like that?! What gives you the right to assume I can't protect myself?!"

Jessica lost it, then. Angry tears welled up in her eyes-- which made her rage only increase. She hated the way she cried when she got this angry. "Because I f***ing love you!" she shrieked back at him, the tears slipping down her cheeks.

He went silent. She couldn't read his face-- he'd slipped behind that 'invulnerable' mask, as she called it. Right then, she couldn't bear it. She turned away from him, and moved quickly for the door, snatching up her boots and cape as she went.

"Jess--" she heard him say behind her, but it was too late; she'd already pulled that familiar, concealing cloud of negative energy about herself, that obscured her from his sight as she flew down the stairs and out the door. Heading for the Hero base in the Bay, to take that ride back to Skyway City.

The Longbow pilot looked askance at her when she appeared, nose and cheeks a blotchy pink, eyes reddened as she wiped at her nose with one glove. She didn't speak to him, though, nor to anyone. She boarded the copter in silence and stared stonily out the window as it took off from the base.