Thursday, February 17, 2005
“Remind me again why she lives in Kings Row,” asked Reiki between mouthfuls of a roast beef sandwich. He and Rufus - Scimitar and the Sanguine Horror to the rest of Paragon City- had met for lunch to discuss new leads on the Circle, but the conversation had steered towards the topic of their newest teammate and her current housing situation.
Rufus gave his lunch partner a shrug as he devoured the rest of his jalapeno chicken wrap. “I’unno,” he mumbled before swallowing. “She’s stubborn, you know that. I offered to let her stay with me, but…”
“But what?” Reiki leaned back in his chair. “She’s the old-fashioned type?”
The burly programmer-turned-hero shook his head. “It’s not that, it’s…sentimental. Sort of.”
“She’s sentimental about the Row?” Reiki choked ungracefully into his sweet tea. “Are you kidding me?”
Rufus shook his head. “Nope. Says she won’t leave the place, but she doesn’t mind if I stay.” This admission drew a chuckle from across the table.
“Guess that’s not too bad, then.”
Light out and curtains drawn, Miranda shook out the end of a match with a smart flick of her wrist. With the last candle lit, the soft shuffle of cards filled the meager apartment. Moments, passed before one hand reached out to smooth the tablecloth, the motion fluid and practiced. The well-loved deck of cards was place in the center of the table, but Miranda made no move to cut the cards.
The deck had been her mother’s, years ago when the first floor of the building had been a coffee shop that catered to hardworking day laborers in the Row. Maya Garren had served up black coffee and a bit of guidance in the form of tarot readings and palmistry for some of the more regular customers, while Ciro Garren had ruled the kitchen with a smile and an iron fist.
She missed them. From the apartment she’d found, she could still see the abandoned shell of the shop, the front glass scarred with carbon from the fire five years ago. An insistence for one of Maya’s readings had turned ugly, and a favor called in to the local gangs had left Miranda alone in Paragon City.
The cards had survived, though, tucked away beneath the counter so that they only carried the smell of smoke and nothing more. Innate ability blossomed through practice, and Miranda had resolutely set out to make a name for herself as one of the many heroes that the city so desperately needed. Regardless of success, she’d made the promise to never leave the Row. Despite everything else, it was home.
A deep breath, and the first few cards were laid on the table. Outside, she could hear the sound of something being slammed into the side of a dumpster. A series of gunshots rang out over a terrified shriek, and the rest of the deck remained on the table a she poked her head out the window that led to the fire escape.
Gunshots didn’t bother her anymore after so many years living in the Row. It was the scream that demanded further investigation.
A whispered handful of words allowed her to move about unnoticed about the alley. Sure-footed, she edged out on a neighbor’s windowsill, trying to get a better glimpse. Forearms bandaged from an earlier trip to Founder’s Falls that week, Miranda clung to the iron bars with one still-injured hand. Down below, a group of ragged gang members sporting white facepaint has gathered around a pair of teenage girls. Miranda pressed herself to the brick as one raised his semiautomatic into the air, squeezing off a series of rounds towards the rooftops.
“What did we say yesterday about you girlies snooping around this part of town?” A burly man with red and white facepaint shoved his way to the front of the group, leering at the teenagers. She bit back the urge to scream into the alley, even when the skull-faced man had a fistful of pretty blonde hair while he tried to prove his point. Focusing on a pile of crates behind the mini-mob, she took a deep breath and let go of the iron bars.
A barely-audible hum preceded Miranda’s appearance atop the crates. Close enough to kick one of the Skills in the head, Miranda entertained the thought for a brief second. Gently, she brought up both hands and focused her attention on the furthest guy, a shrimpy thing with a pair of brass knuckles.
‘C’mon baby boy, they’re not your friends. Look, that one there just took your last cig, and he’s talking about taking your girl away from you tonight...’ Miranda kept up the sultry smooth mind-whisper, the voice in the man’s head sweet and cajoling. A brief moment passed as his eyes glazed over, and suddenly the littlest Skull was a flurry of fists and feet as he lunged at one of the group’s lieutenants.
“Gimme back my cigs! You got ‘em, I know it! “Other accusations were lost as he landed a punch to the surprised man’s jaw. An impromptu fight broke out, complicated by the sweet voice of Moriyaku echoing with some of the most ridiculous and outrageous lies she could fashion.
‘He’s just waiting for you to drop your guard so he can cut your throat…’
‘They’re just using you to get to your sister…’
‘He still owes you thirty bucks, and he’s never gonna pay you back…’
‘Petey thinks your momma’s fat…’
The last little thought didn’t hold up so well, as the targeted Skull frowned and looked up. “But my momma is fat… hey!” For the first time, he noticed Miranda standing on the crates. “What the… hero! SPANDEX!”
This time, impulse won over reason as one white sneaker executed a snap kick, catching him in the mouth and smearing facepaint all over the canvas of her shoe. One hand shot out towards the now-bloody-mouthed Skull, the subsequent Mesmerizing spell leaving him standing and drooling. As a few others came to their senses, Miranda could see the glint of mental in hulking fists. Knives, brass knuckles, broken bottles, anything could work in an alley.
“Aww, gonna pick on li’l ol’ Moriyaku?” She leapt atop the dumpster, grinning. “Bunch big tough boys… hey!” She space between the Controller’s eyes glowed violet as one of the gang members pressed a knife to the throat of one of the girls. “Down. Drop it. NOW.”
The Skull’s face contorted grotesquely as the psionic attack hit him. The knife clattered to the ground as he gripped his temples, eyes screwed shut. Dropping down in front of the girls, Miranda flashed a brief smile in reassurance before turning her attention back to the gang. “You wanna piece of me? Huh? Wanna be all tough on another girl?” Bravado kicked in as her saucy mezzo voice rang through the alley. “Boy, you better take your clown paint and run, ‘cause I’ll open up a can of-“
Miranda’s challenge ended abruptly as she dove to the side, pulling both girls down as bullets whistled past her ear. A rough hand hauled her up by the hair, cool metal pressed to her cheek. Swallowing hard, the young Controller looked sideways at the bloodied painted face.
“Scared now, Spandex?” He gripped her hair tighter, shaking her hard enough to make her teeth rattle. “Not so brave now, huh?”
Her gaze flickered to the gun for a second before lavender tendrils erupted from her forehead. Eyes met the face of her captor, with Miranda’s smile eerily wide. To the nearby Skulls, the soft chuckle in her throat became a chorus of shrieks as her face contorted, replete with fangs, horns, and a forked tongue. Those who could move took off down the street, yelling about demons in the alley. Those Skulls too Terrified to move curled up on the ground, cowering as Miranda deftly bound each of them hand and foot with plastic security ties she pulled from her pocket.
“Ma’am?” One of the girls stretched a shaking ghost-pale arm at a rivulet of blood that trickled down her shoulder. “You should see a doctor for that.”
So the bullet had grazed her arm… and boy, did it sting once the adrenaline wore off. Miranda forced a smile to her face as she turned to the girls. “Yeah, I got a buddy who can fix me up. You’re okay?” She waited for two shaky nods. “Good. Stick to the Plaza if you’re not from around here. Things get messy if you’re not careful.” With a wink, she swung herself back up to the fire escape.
“But, your arm…"
“Doll, I live here. I’ll be fine.” This time, the smile Miranda gave was genuine. “Go on, before it gets too dark and their friends come back to play with me some more.” She waited for them to run off before heading back to her apartment.
Of course she’d be fine. She was home.
Rufus gave his lunch partner a shrug as he devoured the rest of his jalapeno chicken wrap. “I’unno,” he mumbled before swallowing. “She’s stubborn, you know that. I offered to let her stay with me, but…”
“But what?” Reiki leaned back in his chair. “She’s the old-fashioned type?”
The burly programmer-turned-hero shook his head. “It’s not that, it’s…sentimental. Sort of.”
“She’s sentimental about the Row?” Reiki choked ungracefully into his sweet tea. “Are you kidding me?”
Rufus shook his head. “Nope. Says she won’t leave the place, but she doesn’t mind if I stay.” This admission drew a chuckle from across the table.
“Guess that’s not too bad, then.”
Light out and curtains drawn, Miranda shook out the end of a match with a smart flick of her wrist. With the last candle lit, the soft shuffle of cards filled the meager apartment. Moments, passed before one hand reached out to smooth the tablecloth, the motion fluid and practiced. The well-loved deck of cards was place in the center of the table, but Miranda made no move to cut the cards.
The deck had been her mother’s, years ago when the first floor of the building had been a coffee shop that catered to hardworking day laborers in the Row. Maya Garren had served up black coffee and a bit of guidance in the form of tarot readings and palmistry for some of the more regular customers, while Ciro Garren had ruled the kitchen with a smile and an iron fist.
She missed them. From the apartment she’d found, she could still see the abandoned shell of the shop, the front glass scarred with carbon from the fire five years ago. An insistence for one of Maya’s readings had turned ugly, and a favor called in to the local gangs had left Miranda alone in Paragon City.
The cards had survived, though, tucked away beneath the counter so that they only carried the smell of smoke and nothing more. Innate ability blossomed through practice, and Miranda had resolutely set out to make a name for herself as one of the many heroes that the city so desperately needed. Regardless of success, she’d made the promise to never leave the Row. Despite everything else, it was home.
A deep breath, and the first few cards were laid on the table. Outside, she could hear the sound of something being slammed into the side of a dumpster. A series of gunshots rang out over a terrified shriek, and the rest of the deck remained on the table a she poked her head out the window that led to the fire escape.
Gunshots didn’t bother her anymore after so many years living in the Row. It was the scream that demanded further investigation.
A whispered handful of words allowed her to move about unnoticed about the alley. Sure-footed, she edged out on a neighbor’s windowsill, trying to get a better glimpse. Forearms bandaged from an earlier trip to Founder’s Falls that week, Miranda clung to the iron bars with one still-injured hand. Down below, a group of ragged gang members sporting white facepaint has gathered around a pair of teenage girls. Miranda pressed herself to the brick as one raised his semiautomatic into the air, squeezing off a series of rounds towards the rooftops.
“What did we say yesterday about you girlies snooping around this part of town?” A burly man with red and white facepaint shoved his way to the front of the group, leering at the teenagers. She bit back the urge to scream into the alley, even when the skull-faced man had a fistful of pretty blonde hair while he tried to prove his point. Focusing on a pile of crates behind the mini-mob, she took a deep breath and let go of the iron bars.
A barely-audible hum preceded Miranda’s appearance atop the crates. Close enough to kick one of the Skills in the head, Miranda entertained the thought for a brief second. Gently, she brought up both hands and focused her attention on the furthest guy, a shrimpy thing with a pair of brass knuckles.
‘C’mon baby boy, they’re not your friends. Look, that one there just took your last cig, and he’s talking about taking your girl away from you tonight...’ Miranda kept up the sultry smooth mind-whisper, the voice in the man’s head sweet and cajoling. A brief moment passed as his eyes glazed over, and suddenly the littlest Skull was a flurry of fists and feet as he lunged at one of the group’s lieutenants.
“Gimme back my cigs! You got ‘em, I know it! “Other accusations were lost as he landed a punch to the surprised man’s jaw. An impromptu fight broke out, complicated by the sweet voice of Moriyaku echoing with some of the most ridiculous and outrageous lies she could fashion.
‘He’s just waiting for you to drop your guard so he can cut your throat…’
‘They’re just using you to get to your sister…’
‘He still owes you thirty bucks, and he’s never gonna pay you back…’
‘Petey thinks your momma’s fat…’
The last little thought didn’t hold up so well, as the targeted Skull frowned and looked up. “But my momma is fat… hey!” For the first time, he noticed Miranda standing on the crates. “What the… hero! SPANDEX!”
This time, impulse won over reason as one white sneaker executed a snap kick, catching him in the mouth and smearing facepaint all over the canvas of her shoe. One hand shot out towards the now-bloody-mouthed Skull, the subsequent Mesmerizing spell leaving him standing and drooling. As a few others came to their senses, Miranda could see the glint of mental in hulking fists. Knives, brass knuckles, broken bottles, anything could work in an alley.
“Aww, gonna pick on li’l ol’ Moriyaku?” She leapt atop the dumpster, grinning. “Bunch big tough boys… hey!” She space between the Controller’s eyes glowed violet as one of the gang members pressed a knife to the throat of one of the girls. “Down. Drop it. NOW.”
The Skull’s face contorted grotesquely as the psionic attack hit him. The knife clattered to the ground as he gripped his temples, eyes screwed shut. Dropping down in front of the girls, Miranda flashed a brief smile in reassurance before turning her attention back to the gang. “You wanna piece of me? Huh? Wanna be all tough on another girl?” Bravado kicked in as her saucy mezzo voice rang through the alley. “Boy, you better take your clown paint and run, ‘cause I’ll open up a can of-“
Miranda’s challenge ended abruptly as she dove to the side, pulling both girls down as bullets whistled past her ear. A rough hand hauled her up by the hair, cool metal pressed to her cheek. Swallowing hard, the young Controller looked sideways at the bloodied painted face.
“Scared now, Spandex?” He gripped her hair tighter, shaking her hard enough to make her teeth rattle. “Not so brave now, huh?”
Her gaze flickered to the gun for a second before lavender tendrils erupted from her forehead. Eyes met the face of her captor, with Miranda’s smile eerily wide. To the nearby Skulls, the soft chuckle in her throat became a chorus of shrieks as her face contorted, replete with fangs, horns, and a forked tongue. Those who could move took off down the street, yelling about demons in the alley. Those Skulls too Terrified to move curled up on the ground, cowering as Miranda deftly bound each of them hand and foot with plastic security ties she pulled from her pocket.
“Ma’am?” One of the girls stretched a shaking ghost-pale arm at a rivulet of blood that trickled down her shoulder. “You should see a doctor for that.”
So the bullet had grazed her arm… and boy, did it sting once the adrenaline wore off. Miranda forced a smile to her face as she turned to the girls. “Yeah, I got a buddy who can fix me up. You’re okay?” She waited for two shaky nods. “Good. Stick to the Plaza if you’re not from around here. Things get messy if you’re not careful.” With a wink, she swung herself back up to the fire escape.
“But, your arm…"
“Doll, I live here. I’ll be fine.” This time, the smile Miranda gave was genuine. “Go on, before it gets too dark and their friends come back to play with me some more.” She waited for them to run off before heading back to her apartment.
Of course she’d be fine. She was home.
