Super Avenged: Only Human

A thunderclap exploded from the sky, rattling the windows in my apartment. I sighed and looked up from my book. Outside the windows, everything seemed covered in a blanket of navy blue darkness. Occasionally, lightning would fork across the dark stormy sky, brightening everything to a clear, brilliant white. It was only four o’clock in the afternoon, but the storm turned everything to night. Rain beat hard against the windows and walls, and the pinging filled my ears.

I winced as another thunderclap imploded in the sky. I really didn’t like thunder too much. Everything bad that happened, happened when it was thundering. I hadn’t always been scared of thunder, but my fear just developed as more and more bad things happened during thunderstorms. I hoped that Jimmy would be home soon. He always made me feel better about thunder.

I anxiously bit my bottom lip, turning my attention back to the book in my hand. But even Bella’s inner plight of who she loved more, Edward or Jacob, in Eclipse couldn’t distract me from the storm raging right outside my apartment. I dog-eared my page and closed the book, reaching forward for the remote sitting on the coffee table. Maybe there was something on television that would take my mind off my strange, unfounded little phobia. I mean, honestly, the thunder didn’t cause bad things to happen. My luck took care of that on its own. But still, it felt like thunder was out to get me.

BANG!

This is exactly the sort of thing I’m talking about. I abandoned the television remote in exchange for vaulting myself over the back of the couch and sprinting into the bedroom. I slammed the door behind me, stumbling over to the closet in the darkness. I wrenched the closet’s door open and pulled out the baseball bat sitting in the bottom leaning against the wall. I gripped the baseball tightly in both hands, my heart thundering in my chest.

Oh, sorry, in my panic I forgot to mention exactly what sent me vaulting over the couch in the first place. I’m sure you would too, if some complete stranger in a ski mask (yeah, a ski mask; this criminal is really original) kicked your front door open. Instincts told me that this guy couldn’t be any sort of friend, unless Jimmy was playing a really sick joke on me, or he decided to do some role-play without letting me in on it.

I scurried over to the door and stood next to it, waiting for Mr. Original to come barging in so I could whack him with my baseball bat. In the few seconds of preparation I had, I wondered what the hell he was doing here. Maybe he was just a burglar. It wouldn’t make much sense to come up to my apartment and steal from me, because I don’t think anyone knew that the Langston hotel chain heiress was living in an apartment. Perhaps it was just coincidence that he chose to rob me. Or maybe he wasn’t getting any action from his girl, and decided to force that responsibility upon some other chick. I shuddered at the thought. I could handle my stuff being stolen, but I’d rather not be raped. I’m sure every other girl on the planet wishes that exact same thing. It’s really not an experience I want to try out.

Mr. Original barged through the door, met with only darkness for all he knew. I swung the baseball bat around, slamming it right into his diaphragm. All the air whooshed out of his lungs as I backed away from him, raising the bat for another strike. I may be small and petite, and I may be nothing but a rich little artist, but I will not let some guy just come and think that he’ll get away with anything. He’d have to kill me or hurt me so much that I can’t lift a hand to fight back. That’s sort of the idea you get when you’re married to a superhero.

He walked towards me, the whack to the diaphragm appearing to not affect him too much. I swung low this time, hoping to hit him in the side of the knee so he would fall and I could hit him more, but he just dodged it. I raised the bat again, aiming straight for his head this time because I don’t think either of us was playing games. He reached up a hand and caught the baseball bat right in his palm. He wrenched it right out of my hands and swung with his other hand, catching me right on the mouth.

His punch affected me a bit more than my baseball bat affected him. I staggered back, and Mr. Original flipped the bat around. He slammed the bat hard into my diaphragm, and now it was my turn to feel all the air escape from my lungs. I wheezed, staggering further back from Mr. Original. He slammed the bat hard into my stomach, and I doubled up, still wheezing from the last blow. His fist slammed hard into my temple, and I tumbled down to the floor as another thunderclap dropped from the sky.

Mr. Original dropped the bat and advanced towards me. Apparently, he was one of those super criminals who killed people with their bare hands. I glared up at him, one arm crossed over my stomach and the other pushing against the floor as I scooted away from Mr. Original. I aimed a kick right towards his groin, but he grabbed my foot with both hands and twisted hard. Pain sparked up my ankle, and an involuntary cry of pain escaped from my lips. Mr. Original released my ankle, and I could tell it was sprained, if I was lucky. It could be worse, but I wasn’t sure. It sure hurt, though.

Out of nowhere, an arm wrapped tightly around Mr. Original’s torso. He looked down at it, and then back up at me, and then he was thrown across the room. He slammed hard against the wall and crumpled at the base of it like a Raggedy Andy gone criminal. I looked over in the doorway to see Jimmy standing there, looking royally pissed off and drenched in rain. His expression smoothed over into concern as he walked over to me.

He crouched down beside me, reaching over and wiping away the blood dribbling down from my split lip. I winced as his finger brushed against my lip, and he quickly withdrew his hand. He pressed a kiss to my forehead before drawing me tightly into his arms.

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck and nodded into his shoulder. He hooked an arm beneath my knees and straightened up, lifting me easily off of the ground. He carried me into the living room and deposited me gently on the couch. My ankle throbbed with pain, but at least the storm outside had begun to die down.

Jimmy disappeared into the kitchen. I sat up and looked around towards my bedroom door. I could see the darker shadow of Mr. Original’s body lying against the wall. I could’ve swore I saw his body twitch, and within that instant decided I would feel much safer in the kitchen with Jimmy. My ankle still hurt like a bitch, but I shoved myself up off of the couch and somehow wobbled into the kitchen, grimacing the entire way.

Jimmy looked concerned again as I stepped into the doorway. I lessened the pressure on my ankle and leaned against the door frame for support.

“Miya, you shouldn’t be walking on that ankle,” Jimmy said, taking a step towards me.

“I know,” I answered, my voice a little shaky. “But I could see that guy from the living room, and it kind of freaked me out. It’s cowardly of me, but I would feel much better if I just stay in here. But if you want me to go and lay down...”

“No, it’s fine,” Jimmy assured me. I released the doorframe and stepped farther into the kitchen. Jimmy walked over and lifted me up onto the island counter before walking over and grabbing an ice pack out of the freezer. He handed it to me, and I gratefully pressed it against my jaw.

“Just a few weeks ago, our roles were completely switched,” I told Jimmy. He smiled as he put ice into towels. In case you’re wondering, we do go through a lot of ice. It tends to morph into ice packs quite frequently.

“Funny how things work out, hm?” Jimmy agreed. He walked over to the island with the two makeshift ice packs and set them down beside me. I turned and propped my leg up on the counter so that Jimmy could investigate the sprain. He gently rolled my pants leg up, gently manipulating my ankle to assess the damage. I gritted my teeth as pain sparked through my ankle. It didn’t feel broken to me.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” Jimmy told me after a few moments. He looked up at me and saw my clenched jaw; his expression instantly turned to one of apology. “It’s probably just sprained, but I’m going to take you to the hospital just to make sure it’ll heal perfect.”

“Okay,” I answered, unclenching my teeth. Jimmy wrapped the two ice packs around my ankle and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“I’ll be back,” he told me before disappearing out into the living room. Moments later, I heard him exclaim, “Son of a bitch!” He passed by the kitchen on his way to the front door, and he looked mad again. I wondered what had gone wrong. A minute or so later, Jimmy came back. He sighed and ran a hand over his face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked curiously, leaning forward to reposition the ice packs around my ankle.

“That guy’s not in our bedroom anymore,” Jimmy answered. “He must’ve snuck out when I was checking out your ankle. His ski mask and sweater are lying out in the hallway. He’ll be just another face in the crowd if I went looking for him.”

I frowned. Mr. Original must’ve been faking being knocked out so that once Jimmy started to focus on taking care of me, he could make his grand escape.

“I’m sorry, Miya. I should’ve made sure he was out,” Jimmy apologized, apparently thinking my frown was disappointment in him. I smiled and shook my head, brushing a strand of stray hair away from Jimmy’s forehead.

“There’s really no need to apologize,” I told him. “I wasn’t frowning at you. I was just thinking about that guy. It doesn’t bother me much that he got away. My main concern is what he was doing here in the first place.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy agreed. He walked over and grabbed a washcloth from the cabinet underneath the sink. “I’m going to go grab his ski mask and sweater. Maybe the police will be able to get a fingerprint match from them. And then I’ll take you to the hospital, okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. Jimmy pressed a kiss to my lips before walking back out of the room.