Saving a Superhero

16: Cells+Crimes

The last place I ever expected to fall asleep was in the back of a cop car with sirens blaring. Yet, that's where I ended up, curled onto the seat with the circulation to my hands being cut off. I couldn't guess how long I sat there, alone with my thoughts and completely exhausted.

Eventually a cop and her partner climbed into the front seat and shot me a glare. It was the kind of glare that I had reserved for criminals and other lowlives back in the day. And apparently that was an apt description of me now days. Lovely, just lovely.

I didn't say anything as they flicked off their lights and weaved through the city in the direction of the nearest precinct. It was a short drive considering it was midnight and we were driving through the business metropolis of Nova City. Everyone who wasn't involved in a shady scheme to get their friend back was safely locked in their home.

Back at the station we were divided into two holding cells. Kennedy and me in one, Harper and Rory in the other. It was nice having a cellmate who wasn't hysterical, but I could see through the barred door that Rory too had cleaned up her act. Red tear tracks stained her face and made her eyes puffy, but I couldn't say she was alone. The rest of us had lived relatively safe civilians lives. None of us were used to being arrested and read our rights. Hence why we were all scrubbing at our eyes and wishing we had invested in waterproof makeup.

"I knew this was going to happen," Kennedy said. "I should never have come here! Grace should have taken care of herself like the adult she is." I was surprised at the furosity in her words. Maybe Kennedy was never the most willing to help out or fight crime, but I had never heard her take on this aggressive tone.

Harper warned her with a look. Her eyes were cutting between the three of us like she was waiting for a literal explosion. As far as I knew, none of us had that capability, but I wouldn't be surprised if it cropped up in our repertoire.

"Shut up, Harper," Kennedy bit back. Never mind that Harper never actually said anything. "You know I'm right. Our lives are ruined because we followed some half thought out clues and took orders from an adrenaline junkie who can't let go of the past."

"Our lives aren't ruined," I tried to argue, but Rory beat me to the shouting.

"Oh it's my fault?" She was right at the cell door now, staring face to face with Kennedy. "As far as I remember, I didn't make you do anything. No one held a gun to your head and forced you to meet us in Philadelphia. No one even expected you to show up."

"Expect someone did pull a gun on me, or did you forget the last hour of our lives? Erase away the bad parts until it all become a game to ease your boredom?"

"Shut up, the both of you," I growled. It was unlike anything I had unleashed before. These words weren't a command, but an action. They physically yanked the two away from the barred doors. I didn't pause when shock registered on everyone's faces. "Neither of you are doing any good. Just shut your pie holes and sit quietly like good children until we can explain what happened."

Both of them turned on me, their qualms with each other forgotten in the face of my new display of power.

"Don't even get me started on you, Miss Perfect!"

"You think you can't do anything wrong. Like none of this is your fault. Like you're meant to save us from ourselves while staying as emotionally detached as possible."

"You're almost as bad as Harper!"

That pulled Harper right into the fray of things, and she immediately started yelling across the cells to defend her good name.

"Alright, shut up, all of you!" an officer yelled from the doorway. "I've never heard a bunch of criminals turn on each other so fast."

I bit my tongue to stop the torrent of insults from flying in the officer's direction. It was one thing to yell at my friends, but yelling at the enforcer of the law was a different thing altogether.

There was a heartbeat of silence before the officer add a polite, "Thank you."

The scrawny cop sat back down at his desk and opened back up his book. When Kennedy opened her mouth to speak, he peeked over the top of the hardback and cocked an eyebrow. That was when I got a good look at him and gaped like a fish.

As fate would have it, the officer from the bank robbery, the one that had tried and failed to save me was sitting at the desk across the room. And from the way his expression lit up, he recognized me too. I expected some verbal confirmation that I wasn't going crazy or that he could be trusted. I would have settled for a chuckle and off handed comment that I kept getting mixed up in sticky situations. Best case scenario, he could have explained why he had been sporting a police badge in Rhode Island last week and was now lounging around a precinct in Nova City with his feet slung up on his desk.

Instead there was nothing, just a silence that I couldn't figure out how to break. I could think of nothing that wouldn't get us in anymore trouble. I contemplated using my ability to do... something. Anything to get us out of the cell and back on the streets because an unpleasant feeling was stewing in my gut.

No matter how good of a story I spun, no matter how convincing of a lie Harper managed to tell, we were screwed and so was Grace if she was really in trouble.

So much for saving her. We were the ones in need of a miracle now.

As the night waxed on, I feared that this would be the end of our story. We were going to prison or would be sent to a government lab to be experimented on if our secret was revealed. Then, in the oppressive solitude of my bleak thoughts, the officer piped up from his desk.

"You four have a visitor."

I jumped up from the cold hard bench and crossed the cement floor in two giant steps. I had no clue who our visitor was, but, considering that none of us had been given our one phone call yet, it was likely to end in some sort of drama. I wanted to watch the officer's face when everyone started yelling again.

Instead, there was only a reverent silence.

Standing in the doorway was a petite girl with her bedazzled tote bag hiked high up on her shoulder. Giant blue eyes stared at us with a tinge of disappointment. Her short hair was unbrushed and sticking straight up on the right side, like she'd rolled out of bed and come straight to the station when she heard the news.

Fortunately, she had managed to change out of pajamas and into dark skinny jeans and a mint green cardigan rolled up to her elbows.

There was an audible intake of breath when she took a few more steps into the room, glowing like a ghost in the pale light of the holding cells.

"Grace?"

This chapter was so much fun to write. And I'm hoping for some pretty fun responses in return. What's the cop from Rhode Island doing here? Does Juliet play the detached savior too often? Oh, and--just a little one--GRACE IS FINALLY HERE?

Apologies for my two week absence. I was enjoying the holidays and being deathly ill. I'm mostly recovered now so plan for weekly updates to resume. 

Remember: Don't turn on your fellow criminals.

-m burton