Steven soared through the air of New York City, his clenched fists set onward.
At times, his flight was wobbly and it almost seemed as if he was about to fall from the fifty-meter height he dwelled. However, that did not stop the man from keeping a shit-eating grin on his face.
He closed his eyes, taking in the fresh breeze passing him by.
"Ah..."
Quickly unfurling his eyes, he allowed himself to become serious, keeping his eyes peeled for any who may need help.
'You're a hero now, Steven. You have to stay vig-'
He ceased that thought, spying a small boy that just stepped onto the street for a football that got away from him - in the path of a speedily approaching red Porsche Cayenne.
Giving it his all, Steven pushed his arms downward, going sixty miles per hour to cradle the boy and shoot off with him out of the convertible's path - narrowly avoiding collision.
Stopping shy of the gated entrance to a middle-class home, Steven set the boy down and promptly got on one knee to see if he was okay - face to face.
The boy seemed speechless--awe-struck--more than anything else.
"Hey, kid, you good?"
Out of the blue, voices from people came about.
"O.M.G," a teenage girl said from across the street, school bag on her shoulder and phone in hand - camera pointed directly at Steven.
"I can't believe I actually caught that on camera!" She let out a girlish squeal of delight.
"Definitely posting this on BigTok!"
Steven--not knowing what to say--stood and somewhat nervously stared down at the boy, whose face was now shifting into one of delight.
"Good heavens," an elegantly-dressed middle-aged woman expressed,
"the boy would've met his end if not for that-"
She paused.
"The chap sports a hand-outfitted green scarf."
Admiration had coasted from her tone.
"It's been a while since NYC had anything above a White-Hand hero."
"I've never seen him before."
"Hard to forget a face like that."
"He must be new."
The same schoolgirl recording, exclaimed,
"Ya'll, O.M.G, he's so fine! He's, like, giving supermodel, pookies! I'll be sure to interview, so go ahead and like, follow, and share! Almost at four million followers, which is insane, guys!"
'Jesus fuck,' Steven thought.
More and more people came and expressed interest. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the schoolgirl approaching. As Steven finally mustered the courage to turn toward her and the rest of the onlookers, he felt a tug on his hand.
He looked back to see the beaming boy who yelled,
"Green-Hand hero Sir, what's your name - and do you have any cool merch?! Or a MyTube or BigTok?!"
'I didn't expect this attention at all. I... don't like it.'
"Listen, kid-"
"Mr. Handsome Green-Hand hero."
He sighed, veering around to eye the schoolgirl, still recording with her phone.
Now that Steven got a closer look at her, she appeared to be around his age. Maybe slightly older.
She had bags under her dark brown eyes, though that seemed to be a cosmetic choice, as it melded with her attractive pale face rather well. The same for her plump and enticing black-lipsticked lips.
Her braided red hair which fell down to her shoulders was swept to the right.
Her tits in her loosely worn white uniform top weren't big, although, admittedly noticeable; C-cup.
"Sasha Holiday."
She extended a hand. Nonchalantly, Steven shook it.
"Steven Price, but my hero name's Savior."
Sasha looked skeptical, waiting to see if he was messing with her. When it became apparent that he was indeed being truthful, she burst out laughing.
"What are you, twelve?!"
"Don't listen to her, Savior!" the boy encouraged, eyes twinkling with glee.
"Your hero name's super cool!"
Steven gave him a smile.
"Thanks, kid."
Sasha frowned, clearing her throat.
"Sorry, Savior."
She almost chuckled but her willpower came in at the crucial moment.
"Thinking on it, your name's awesome, and you're pretty awesome; humble. I like ya."
Steven let out a sharp scoff, one of amusement.
'This girl Sasha's... something else.'
"So, what made you want to become a hero, Savior?"
Quickly--almost panicking--Steven brought his wrist above and gawked at it.
His tongue moved swiftly as he spoke,
"Well, would you look at the time - gotta fly - it was a pleasure meeting you, Sasha."
He took off in a flight, hearing,
"Wait!" from Sasha.
Immediately thereafter, a mighty rumble came from past the bridge ahead of him - almost akin to an earthquake, coursing throughout the island of Manhattan.
In shock, Steven went to fall from the air but righted himself. He then closed his eyes, clutching his chest, profusely panting.
"Ah... fuck, man."
When he opened his eyes, it almost seemed as if he wanted to fly away in fear.
'That scared the absolute fucking cocksucking shit out of me.'
The rumble came again; along with the visible shattering and collapsing of buildings, and cries of terror.
"The fuck?" he whispered, dread slipping into his tone.
"A villain," Sasha said, gulping and pocketing her phone.
"A powerful one."
At that point, the people about the area began scrambling away. Sasha stood her ground, somewhat meekly saying,
"Savior."
He eyed her.
She didn't say anything else. She solely
stared up at Steven with an expression that told him,
"Please, don't let me die".
The rumbling came closer. And closer. Steven began to sweat, peering onward.
'Fuck. The screams. People are actually dying, so why aren't I-?'
"Savior!" the little boy called.
"You'll beat that villain, right?!"
Steven inhaled, and exhaled. He envisioned people on their knees, on the ground begging for help. He clenched his fists in deep-seated rage.
"Hang tight."
With those words, he soared forward. Shortly after, he ceased, recognition in his eyes.
"What the fuck - what the fuck?" he murmured.
He beheld the sight of a purple-armored lithe six-foot-tall woman killing everyone in her vicinity with extremely gruesome physical methods.
Costume-adorned individuals--their scarves black and white--tried to escape her.
One flew sky-high, but she zipped above him and set her foot down onto his face, instantly crushing his skull and flaring up blood and brain matter.
She came back to the ground in an instant, behind a hero who sprinted in an attempt to leave with her life.
Misty made sure she did not, horizontally swinging her right hand through the girl and splitting her in half.
Both parts of her fell with a visceral squishing sound.
A child's torso was trampled. An adult civilian was flung onto an exposed rod of steel. Police cars that were coming from behind spontaneously exploded. Buildings collapsed with a flick of a wrist. An invisible man hiding on a corner of the street was met with a spit to the throat that decapitated him; and thus, his invisibility was undone.
A little girl bawling for her mommy was casually grabbed by her hair and thrown into the vacuum of space. Cars stuck in traffic went out with a bang.
A news helicopter above was... left alone.
Many more fell nonetheless. Many more screams resounded.
'It's like she's... unstoppable,' Steven thought, heaving an anxious sigh right after.
'The bitch moves so fast, but she's not even breaking the sound barrier - fucking crazy. Her power and control is...'
Steven almost lost composure, but shook his head.
"No. There's hope, even against the terror of two years ago. I have intangibility. She can't hit-"
He flashed his hands, gritting his teeth and soaring straight toward the woman he had no idea was his sister.
'what she can't touch! I'll phase inside you and drag out your heart for all the lives you've taken, Terrifier!'
She stopped in her tracks, meeting his eyes. A hair's breadth from his target, Steven began to phase, and he paled.
Misty was keeping him at bay with just her armored pinkie on his forehead.
"Steven Price?"
She'd spoken in that mature, thick Russian accent.
Steven was frightened. Both by how she knew his name, and by how his intangibility had no effect on her.
"You've changed," she casually said.
Misty lightly pushed her pinkie on his forehead, and he was catapulted across the streets through several--now empty--small buildings.
Lying still in a convenience store, Steven's forehead was bloodied; his brain felt like it had done multiple backflips.
"Fu... fuck."
He heard the chime that had normally signaled the entry of an employee, manager, or customer; and he rose - albeit with a groan.
Steven checked his scarf - perfectly fine.
His attire, however, was left worse for wear. But at least his cock and ass weren't on display.
Realizing, that this may very well be his final moments, Steven turned to his crossed-arms armored sister and adopted a fighting stance.
"I won't die without putting up a fight, Terrifier. For all the people you've killed, for all the lives you've ruined, I'll fight 'til I can't fight anymore, you evil heartless bitch!"
He came at her with practiced taekwondo kicks; at her chin, at her legs, at her back, at her temple. She could not care less.
"Kneel, Steven Price."
