This is the first in a series I plan to write about a young superhero and a troubling new "villain." I hope you enjoy it, it's been a while since I've written anything so I feel I'm a bit rusty.
*
SLAM! The thug hit the floor hard and didn't get up. After a few moments the dust cleared and the gang leader managed to crawl to a sitting position against a wooden crate. He turned to face his aggressor.
"W-what do you want?" he said as his gaze drifted up from the polished black, vinyl, high-heel boots to the perfectly toned calves encased in yet more vinyl, to the long, gently curved thighs above and finally coming to rest at her belt. A blue flame seemed to flicker across the belt buckle, bathing the woman in a lambent glow.
"What I want is an answer."
The man coughed, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and smiled.
"An answer to what?"
"Don't play games with me, who hired you?"
The gang leader once again glanced at her belt buckle, the symbol of Serenity - the new caped crusader in town, and then looked up at her. She was gorgeous. Flat stomach, gentle but noticeable curves in all the right places and what looked to him like a nice pair of large B or small C cup breasts, currently encased in a dark blue vinyl suit.
Serenity coughed and glared down at the man that was obviously ogling her chest. She got this a lot, it was hard to be taken seriously with a body like hers and it didn't help that the only costumes she seemed to be able to get her hands on were strictly made of vinyl, overly form-fitting and entirely too skimpy.
His grin spread and he just shook his head at the heroine.
"You got nothing on me, nothing you can do that my employer can't top."
Serenity cocked an eyebrow at that and drew herself back to finish him but paused when he opened his mouth again.
"But I'll tell you what, if you really wanna know then head down to the park around 1 or 2 am tomorrow night. You won't be disappointed."
She sneered at him and lifted him off the floor with one arm, looked into his eyes and, satisfied that he wasn't lying, tossed him into the crates he had been leaning against. He crashed through them in a heap.
"Get out of my sight before I change my mind, but if I ever catch you again you're a dead man."
The man gave a hoarse chuckle and struggled to his feet before limping towards the back exit of the warehouse.
******
Tori Jenkins pulled into the dark driveway of her modest New-England home, turned off the headlights and got out of the car. It had been a long day at work and the budding young attorney had yet to make any headway in the firm. She had gotten an internship at the firm a year ago, right out of college. They had welcomed her with open arms and she had leapt at the opportunity to make herself known. Sure she had expected a few months of grueling grunt work and menial labor but she'd gotten stuck as a secretary to one of the big dogs early on and was still stuck plugging away through all his paperwork.
She walked up the beautifully maintained brick walkway to her porch, turned on the porch light and fumbled in her purse for the keys to the house. Tori was, to the discerning eye, a work of art. She had a short bun of perfectly kept light brown hair, a pair of very business-like glasses - spectacles really - that tend to hang just on the edge of falling off the end of her nose, and a light dusting of freckles across her face. Her eyes faded back and forth between a cool summer blue and a piercing morning-mist grey. Most days she wore a knee-length grey business skirt, black leggings, sensible two-inch heels and a white blouse. She had an old leather raincoat for the bad weather and a smart-looking borderline black jacket for the nice weather. Today was one of those rare summer days where she didn't even need the black jacket at night.
Her fingers finally wrapped around the keys in the bottom of her purse and she twirled it in her fingers looking for the right one. She found it, looked up, and paused. Had she really left the kitchen light on when she left that morning? She sighed and shrugged and stooped over the doorknob to open the lock.
Had Tori looked, she might have noticed that the shadows to the left of the door were particularly inky and perhaps a little more fluid than the average windowsill shadow. In fact, she might even have noticed the eerie silence that came not from the lack of sound but rather of someone, or something, trying very carefully not to make any sound.
The figure lying under her porch window however, was paying the utmost attention to every detail of the young woman before it. The black stockings she wore cleverly hid the perfectly tanned legs underneath and the loose-fitting blouse made a valiant effort of disguising the ample cleavage of the 24 year old attorney would-be. She wore a 34B bra but could probably have fit quite comfortably in a 34C. She was constantly trying to downplay her assets so that people would take her more seriously at work and maybe give her that one job, that one break to get her started.
The figure in fact even noticed what most people tended not to: the lack of a ring on either hand. Tori was single and, while not necessarily loving it, was content with her lot in life. She wasn't really looking for a relationship but if one had come along she wouldn't shun it. Most everyone assumed that she had the quiet air of someone who was determined to get her work done, get recognition for her work, and then go home to her loving boyfriend/fiancée/husband. Yes, the figure was very observant.
