Chapter 13 by micdan282

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Lonely Hours

The days dragged.

Without her sessions with Devin to break up the monotony, Rikki found her workdays stretching endlessly—gray and lifeless, like a week without sunlight. The office felt colder, quieter. The usual stream of parolees filing through her door blurred together in a haze of paperwork and half-listened-to stories. Devin had always made things more complicated than they should’ve been—but he had also made them interesting.

And now he was gone.

She hadn’t spoken to Finn much, either. A few polite texts exchanged between long silences. No phone calls. No late-night video chats. He’d decided to stay at his place for the rest of the week—space, he’d said. Time to think. And she was trying to respect that. But the distance felt like a punishment she hadn’t expected. He’d always been patient, sweet, constant. She thought telling him the truth would bring them closer, not fracture them further.

She tried to remind herself that he had every right to be overwhelmed. Finding out your girlfriend wore a mask at night and fought killers wasn’t exactly easy to process. And when he found out about Rogue Knight nearly killing her—well, it wasn’t surprising he needed space.

Still… what had he expected?

He’d known she was Nightingale. He’d known that meant danger, risk. She wasn’t exactly hiding the bruises or late nights. Did he think she was invincible?

And yet, when she wasn’t out patrolling, she found herself at home, lights off, nursing a glass of red wine alone on the couch.

Missing him.

Even if she didn’t want to admit it—she missed Devin too.

That part hit harder than she liked. She’d ended things with him for all the right reasons: ethics, responsibility, guilt. Finn was the safer choice. The right one. But that didn’t stop the memories from sneaking in. The late-night conversations, the reckless closeness, the way she felt like someone else around him—less guarded, more alive. She hated that part of herself a little, the part that still wondered what it would feel like to see him again.

Rikki stood and crossed the room, pouring herself another glass. She didn’t even bother with the lights. The shadows were easier. They didn't ask questions.

She took a long sip and glanced at the window again, watching the world continue without her.

Outside, someone was honking their horn. Sirens wailed in the distance.

Inside, Rikki sat in the dark.

Alone. Again.

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Perils of a Novice Superheroine

A generic superheroing setting drenched with sex and scandal

About

Acropolis City, the center of super-human and caped crusader activity in this particular world - with its own dizzying highs and lows, high-tech skylines and slums standing in stark, four-color contrast, it provided everything that a costumed megalomaniac or masked vigilante could ask for. In fact, as is usually the case where colorful masked characters are the norm, it has become something of an institution by this point. But although the mere existence of costumed heroes and villains no longer shocks people, these people - who, by their very nature, thrive on attention - keep finding new ways to stand out from the crowd and attract the eye. This last goal tends to get a lot of emphasis in the most simple, sexualized way possible. For reasons that the world's most brilliant scientists have yet to explain, latent super-abilities seem to manifest more often in women than men by a ratio of 3 to 1 or more. This is true even when the superpower isn't "natural"; paranormal artifacts fall into their hands, esoteric martial arts schools never seem to have a male heir, the technological prototypes they test always seem to be the ones that are most easily used or abused for good and evil. Unfortunately, the glory days of the past where citizens were happy to see any old masked do-gooder show up are over - in recent years, Acropolis City has established a ranking system of heroes where those who get high marks from the citizens and resolve incidents are rewarded with corporate sponsorships and (most coveted of all) seats at the prestigious League of Propriety. Those who intimidate the populace, cause excessive collateral damage, or simply don't excite anyone, garnering low rankings, get 'asked' to move to less prestigious cities. Few superheroes want to get stuck battling clans of villainous hillbillies and corrupt small-town sheriffs for the rest of their careers, so they're always eager to please the influential citizens of Acropolis City (judges, eminent scientists, first responders, and of course the all-important reporters). On the other side of the law, a similar dynamic predominates; only the most glamorous and charismatic costumed ne'er-do-wells can make it in this town. And so, the novice superheroines just learning the ways of battling for justice and order, without any team to back them up, always end up patrolling the skeeviest, most undesirable slums of the city and taking on the most thankless rescues. As if that weren't bad enough, most of them feel obliged to dress in ways that get more outlandish and revealing with every passing year while they fight the good fight and/or feed their craving for attention, depending on how you see the 'cape life'. As if that weren't troublesome enough, the superhuman mutations that make so many of these heroes' careers possible also result in greatly increased sexual sensitivity, particularly in females. The adventures and misadventures that these spandex-clad lady crusaders get into are often too hot to print for the kind of comics that their young admirers would read. Messy mistakes will be made, but you don't want to disappoint your readers, do you? So let the League know what kind of superheroine you are, your chosen name, powers, and appearance, and they'll send you out on your first patrols. Good luck.