Steven Longstreet stood on the roof of the City Journal, the wind powerful in his face so many stories up. He looked out over the City, the place he had called home his entire life, a place he loved more than any other.
He smiled. It was very likely that this was his last day alive. The cold afternoon sun gave him little warmth, and he reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a flask. He unscrewed the top with numb fingers, and poured some bourbon into his mouth, gulping the burning liquid down.
"A little early for that, isn't it?"
Steven turned around, and saw a tall and elegant woman standing here, her blonde hair flowing behind her, hands on her hips.
The Power.
"Ah," he said, drinking a little more and putting the flask in his inner pocket again. "Everyone talks about how much I drink, but no one talks about how I thirst, you know?"
"I suppose," she said.
She looked even more regal and...
powerful,
frankly, Steven was thinking.
She stood tall, imposing, her cape fluttering behind her. Her boots clicked as she walked over to where he stood shivering in his overcoat, but she didn't seem cold at all, despite her wearing only boots and her skintight costume.
Nothing about her looked like a person who could stand in front of a speeding car and withstand it crushing into her, but he had seen exactly that on TV. And now she was here.
"You said you needed help," she asked.
"Well, I said we could help each other," he replied. "You are looking for Red Eyes, if I'm not mistaken. I'm looking to keep on living."
"I see. I am looking for Red Eyes. You know where it is?"
"No. But I am pretty sure I know where it will be. There is a man on the police force- a detective. He informed me the other day that I had a limited time to live, that my time was running out. It will run out tonight. I'm pretty sure that Red Eyes will be how I die."
"This man knows Red Eyes?"
"I can't prove it. But my investigating has led me to believe that he has control over whatever Red Eyes is, yes."
The Power walked over to the edge of the roof and looked down.
"Pretty from up here," she said.
"Yeah, you aren't from around here. Where are you from, again?"
"I don't tell that."
"Right."
The Power turned around to face him.
"Why does this policeman want you dead?"
"He knows I know who the Spider is, and he wants me to tell him. He wants her for some reason, I don't know why. But I won't tell him, so he's going to kill me."
The Power frowned.
"The Spider hasn't been heard of for weeks. Why is he interested in her?"
Steven shrugged. He reached into his inner pocket, past his flask.
"I can watch over you tonight," she shrugged. "See if Red Eyes comes to kill you. I haven't had much success tracking it down on my own. Could work."
Steven pulled his pistol out of his coat, and casually pointed it at the Power.
"What are you doing, Steven?"
He pulled the trigger. The shot cracked out in the cold afternoon air, high above the City. The Power grabbed at her belly, and doubled over from the shot.
"Fuck!" she yelled. She fell to her knees.
Steven put the pistol back in his pocket.
The Power leapt up, and in a flash, grabbed Steven by his lapel and hoisted him up into the air, above her head.
"What on earth? Why did you
shoot
me?"
"I had to know," he choked, legs kicking into thin air.
"Had to know what?"
"If you were as strong as they say. If bullets really don't hurt you."
She shook her head in anger.
"They
hurt,
man! By God!"
"But you aren't bleeding."
She lowered him back to the ground.
"No," she said. "They don't pierce my flesh."
"I see that."
"Don't do that again!"
"I won't."
The Power shook her head.
"What's your plan?"
******************************
Heather smiled nervously at the waitress, and signed the check. She left a generous tip, and drained her glass of wine. She put on her jacket, and zipped it up tight against the cold. She stepped out into the cold night air, the glasses of wine keeping the chill at bay.
She stepped onto the sidewalk, and slipped her hand into her pocket. Heather found the metal knuckles there, she put her fingers through the holes and affixed the weapon over her fist.
She was being hunted tonight.
She walked down the busy street, heading for home. She looked over her shoulder, saw nothing. She looked up at the skies.
Empty.
She popped her collar against the wind, and hurried.
If she made it to the apartment, she would be all right.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Heather pulled it out, and looked at the splash screen.
I see you,
her phone said.
Heather stopped, and looked around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. People stepped around her on the sidewalk, no one looking at her, no one paying attention. Like a stream flowing around a rock.
She hurried off again.
At the end of the block, her phone buzzed again.
You won't make it home.
Fuck you, Heather thought. Show yourself.
She looked back towards the wine bar. Maybe I should go back, she thought. Slip out the back door.
There is nowhere to run.
We'll see about that.
Heather broke off into a run, tearing down the sidewalk, pushing people out of her way. She had to make it home. Had to make it to the apartment she shared with Anna. If she made it home, she would be fine, she'd be-
In the blink of an eye, Heather found herself in the grip of a strong pair of legs, wrapping around her arms, pinning them to her side. A hand clamped firmly over her mouth.
Before she could process what was happening, she found herself lifted up into the sky, being spun around, dizzying her. She felt herself being lifted straight up, feet first, who knows how high.
When she got her senses back, she found herself on her back, on the carpeted floor of an apartment building, someone's bedroom. The room was pitch black. Heather struggled, kicked her legs, tried to move her arms. Useless.
She tried to scream, but her mouth was covered.
"No one ever sees the Spider," she heard whispered from across the room.
