Off Balance

[Diya Behari]

(Thanks to Roach, as always, and special thanks to Faige's and Lauren's players for reading through and giving feedback!)

Diya stood in front of her closet, evaluating her options. Jeans. Track pants. Yoga pants. Gym shorts. She knew she owned other stuff. Where was it?

She had a shopping trip planned for today. With Lauren. It was planned ages ago, so shopping was all it was for, right? Just get in, find an outfit for Homecoming, and get out.

Maybe if she repeated that to herself a few more times tonight, it would be true.

She needed something comfortable to wear, but didn’t want the same old stuff. But it still had to be easy to get off and on.

To make trying on clothes easier, Diya said to herself with a smirk.

She knelt down to paw through the clothes that had fallen - or been tossed - on the floor of the closet. She had an outfit in mind, it had to be here somewhere.

“Ah-ha!” she cheered, pulling out the leggings she’d been looking for. Blue animal print. That was trendy, right? She sniffed them gingerly and nodded. Still clean. Now where was the tunic that went with it? She’d last worn it to the movie marathon with Brodi - and Faige, though she hadn’t been part of Diya’s original plan.

Diya got down on her hands and knees to look under her bed - the place in the room she forbade Amy from trying to clean. There was the tunic! She pulled it out, victorious, happy to find it still clean, too. It wasn’t exactly an outfit that got a lot of airtime - Diya was just terrible about actually putting her clothes away properly on laundry day. The whole outfit was a little...softer than Diya liked to be, but it just felt right for tonight.

Diya glanced at her watch. Still awhile to go before she met up with Lauren. She couldn’t stay in her room; she’d go stir crazy. She couldn’t work out; the last thing she wanted was to be smelly and gross while out with Lauren, and there wasn’t time to work out and shower. Not if she didn’t want to be one of those girls who kept people waiting while she primped, anyway. “I wonder what Roach is up to,” Diya muttered as she headed out, remembering to grab her “Villains” jacket along the way.

***

Diya was pretty sure half the school was gathered at the stadium. Diya frowned to herself and hoped everyone attributed her expression to Roach’s ribbing or Lark’s presence. “I told you so, Behari” indeed.

So far only Lark and Abby had actually mentioned the outfit, but Diya was sure everyone else was taking mental note of it. She never should have put it on - at least not when she wasn’t able to sneak out without being seen. She had a normal look and it worked for her - why was she messing with it?

But before Diya could spend too much time glowering, Lauren showed up, and laughed along while Roach lectured her about Diya’s alleged curfew, and threatened Lauren with a shovel. A shovel? What happened to shotguns? When Roach started talking about finding a camera though, Diya suggested they run away. Fast. Lauren obliged, and the pair ran down the bleachers and out of the stadium before more ridiculous comments could follow.

“You’d think we were going out on a first date or something,” Lauren said as they left her school.

Diya just shook her head in amusement. It was an awful lot of fuss over a shopping trip.

***

At the clothing store, Diya made a big show of confusion and complaining, but she couldn’t stop grinning and laughing - even when Lauren brutally shot down Diya’s idea to wear a suit to the dance.

If anyone asked, she’d deny it to her grave, but Diya was actually having fun. Fun, in a mall, with a cheerleader. Who knew a year ago this was where she’d end up? Or nine months ago. Or even in May, when she had argued with Peyton and Lauren - pretty heatedly - over whether cheerleading was sport.

She wasn’t even nervous in the dressing room, with Lauren squeezed in with her. Diya had been sure this would be the worst part. What if nothing fit? What if everything made her thighs look even huger? But Lauren was good at this - everything fit fine, even if some of them were just ridiculously inappropriate for Homecoming. But it was nice to try on something different, even if just for a few seconds, and laugh with Lauren.

Diya even felt a little like a princess when Lauren gave her stamp of approval to the little black dress. She fought to keep back a smile, but failed, when Lauren even approved of the silly opera gloves she’d added to the dress - no questions asked.

Watching Lauren try on dresses was even more fun, though she had no idea why Lauren was trusting her taste. Diya’s lack of fashion sense was notorious. She just hoped the smoking hot dress Lauren settled on wouldn’t embarrass her at the dance. Of course, Lauren was one of those people who’d look hot in a paper sack, to paraphrase Diya’s mom.

***

After paying for their purchases - including a shiny new “official” Villains jacket for Lauren - the pair went to the food court rather than heading directly back to campus. Diya made a beeline for the sushi stand, ordering a California roll, a spicy tuna roll and a hot green tea. Lauren ordered the same.

As the rolls were being assembled, Diya stepped up to the cash register. As the cashier punched in her purchase, Diya bit the inside of her cheek, deliberating. After a moment’s hesitation, she turned to look at Lauren. “I got this, okay?”

“Oh, uh...okay,” Lauren said, then smiled.

Diya turned back to the cashier and told her she was buying both meals. With Lauren behind her, she could relax her facial expression a bit. That wasn’t hard, and seemed like the right thing to do! Paying for the meal was the least Diya could do after Lauren took her out shopping, after all. And all of...the other fun stuff they’d been doing together.

As she collected her change, Diya turned to Lauren. “You have to carry the trays, though!” Lauren grinned at her and Diya grinned right back, glad she’d come up with a way to keep this from feeling...serious.

Over sushi the girls chatted. Football and cheerleading, mostly. Diya grinned when Lauren promised she had a cheer worked out just for Diya for the next game. This was the best part about being a girl on the football team - if she’d been a guy player, out with a hot cheerleader, everyone would be assuming way more was actually happening here. But because they were both girls, they got to fly mostly under the radar, and then go off to one of their rooms or the other - totally unsuspiciously! - and have a whole other version of fun. Dating girls had its advantages.

Making out with girls, Diya corrected herself. Fooling around. Having fun.

“It’s just a cheer, you know,” Lauren said, bringing Diya’s attention back to the cheerleading discussion. “Bad poetry and all.”

Diya shrugged. “I don't have a terribly poetic name, so I'm gonna be impressed no matter what, I'm pretty sure.”

“Fair enough. And don't say ‘never.’ I'm definitely not perfect.” Lauren poked her sushi. “I screw up a lot.”

Diya shrugged. “Well, you haven't screwed up in front of me yet. Let me enjoy my delusions for a while longer, kay?”

“For awhile, huh?” Lauren smirked as Diya just sipped her tea. “You like having me around?”

Diya was glad to have the tea cup to obscure her face while she thought quickly. “I do.” She smirked, “You’re not bad, for a cheerleader.”

Lauren feigned offense. “For a cheerleader?”

“Well, you did come on a little strong when we first met.” Diya hadn’t exactly been planning on sharing sushi with a cheerleader back when she came to Westbrook, so it’d seemed like a good idea at the time to argue over the validity of cheerleading as a sport.

Lauren grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. Sorry about that. Forgive me?”

“Pretty sure I have. Wait,” Diya paused and pretended to think. “Yes. Definitely forgiven.” The girls laughed together. “Just trying to keep you on your toes!”

“People just love to do that it seems,” Lauren said before popping a piece of her sushi into her mouth. She was eating with her hands. Diya wondered just how hard it was to learn to use chopsticks when you couldn’t just mimic someone automatically. Would Lauren let her teach her?

“Oh?” Diya asked. “Is someone giving you trouble? Do I gotta go bust some heads?” She cracked her knuckles and tried to look menacing while her mind was racing to figure out who it could be. Was Wyatt bugging her again?

Lauren looked up from her sushi. “You’d do that for me?”

Diya’s bravado shrunk under Lauren’s gaze. She just smiled slightly and shrugged.

“Nobody’s messing with me. People just like to talk. And sometimes they come up with the strangest things to talk about.”

“Oh yeah?”

Lauren nodded and paused before asking “Did Brodi tell you Wyatt stopped by last night?”

Diya frowned a little and tugged on one of her pigtails. “He may have mentioned seeing him in your room. I was trying to think of a delicate way to ask about it, if it's even any of my business" Lauren poked at her sushi. “I mean, we were just having such a good time, I didn't want to be a downer if it was a sore subject."

“Sometimes? I just figure it's easier to come right out and say it.”

Diya tried to hide a rueful smile. She was pretty sure that’s exactly what Lauren said right before they kissed for the first time, when Diya had been uncharacteristically nervous about making a move on the cheerleader.

Lauren started to talk, her cadence a little off. “Wyatt came by to talk, and... he was really weird at first. Long story short... he wanted to get back together.”

Diya blinked once, but otherwise kept her expression and her voice neutral. “Oh.”

“And we're not... you and I... right? I mean, it's just for fun.”

“Absolutely!” Diya said, way too quickly. She knew it. That was the opposite of a subtle answer.

Lauren nodded. “I told him okay.”

Diya was still nodding along from her last answer, but stopped abruptly. She felt like she’d just belly flopped on the balance beam mid-cartwheel. Don’t let her see that. She tugged on a pigtail.

“I mean, there was a whole lot more to it than that,” Lauren added quickly. “But that’s the quick version.”

Diya nodded again, just once. “So...does that mean we're done? If you're back together, I mean.” She was pretty sure she knew the answer, but she needed to hear it from Lauren, just to be sure.

“Um... The stuff we've been doing alone? I mean aside from this...” Lauren was fumbling. “Yeah?” She winced slightly, but Diya hardly noticed.

“I understand,” she said in what she hoped was a normal-sounding voice. Her heart was beating too loudly in her ears to really hear herself well.

“I mean if it was just for fun... It's no big deal, right?”

Diya pulled on the ends of her gloves, fitting them tightly, then flexing her fingers, studying her hands closely for a moment. “"I mean, you guys were pretty serious,” That’s not what she was saying, Diya “I mean, yeah, just fun."

Lauren sighed a little. “Sorry?”

Diya looked up at Lauren and shrugged. “Nothing to be sorry about. We had a good time, and that's what's important, right?”

Lauren nodded vigorously. Diya thought she looked relieved. “Right! And we can still hang out, right? Like tonight. I had a blast”

Diya nodded, but she was pretty sure just hanging out wasn’t in the cards anymore. That’s not how she worked. Love ‘em and leave ‘em Behari - there was a reason she had that nickname back in the day.

“Oh! And I’m still cheering for you at the next game!”

Oh god, there was still a game this week to get through. Diya needed to leave. Now. She tugged on a pigtail again before nosily slurping the last of her tea. “Well, I need to get back to campus.” She stood abruptly and carried her tray - still half-filled with sushi - to the trash bin. Lauren followed suit, her tray still similarly full.

The ride back to school was quiet. Lauren made a few attempts at conversation, and so did Diya, but everything petered out quickly, leaving them sitting in silence again. Back at school, Diya waved goodnight to Lauren, saying she needed to check with Brook on some homework before calling it a night. As Lauren walked away, Diya pulled out her phone and hit a number on her speed dial. The phone on the end of the line rang and rang, before the voice mail finally picked up.

Diya hesitated for a few seconds, her throat suddenly feeling sore, before finally eeking out, “Brodi? I need you. Please.”

[Diya Behari]

(Alternate subtitles for this next part: Diya's Big Adventure and/or Diya and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day)

Wednesday night, immediately after the football game

While the hallways near the locker rooms had been deserted, the parking lot of the sports complex was still packed when Diya slipped outside. Trailblazer fans were still jeering loudly about the scrappy Mustangs. The Mustang crowd was jubilant, but smaller and vocally no match for the ‘Blazers.

Diya pushed her way through the crowd, hoping no one recognized the girl with the damp purple hair and the bulging bag containing her football gear - and her Westbrook letter jacket. She’d put her Westbrook football T-shirt on inside out, too. She was hoping to slip out anonymously.

She snuck past the parking lot crowds with out notice, or at least with no one calling out to her or jeering or asking any stupid questions about her comically oversized bag, which was good enough for her. When Diya reached the train station, she hopped on the first one that arrived, not caring where it was going to long as it was away.

In the half-empty train car, Diya threw herself into a seat sideways, putting her feet up on the next seat and pulling her knees in tight to her chest. With her bag on the floor next to her, she leaned forward to rest her head on her knees and block out the rest of the stupid, stupid world.

***

“Last stop on this train! Last stop! No passengers!”

Diya jerked her head up with a start. Where was she? What was that voice saying? She looked around. The train was stopped in the station and she was the only passenger left.

“You okay, miss?”

Diya looked up to see an older man standing over her, wearing a Paragon Transit uniform and pushing a janitor’s broom. “Uh, yeah?” She looked down suddenly, groping with one hand. Was her bag still here? Coach would kill her if she lost her gear.

Only because it belongs to the school. The team. Which I’m probably not on anymore.

“It slid under your seat there,” the janitor said, pointing a little with his broom. “you’re sure you’re okay? There’s a payphone at the station here, though all you young people have your cell phones these days. I imagine you’ve got a phone in your pocket.”

As if on cue, the phone that was indeed in Diya’s pocket did begin to ring. She ignored it. “I’m fine, like I said,” she insisted. She leaned over to drag her bag out from under the bench before standing up.

“Have a good night, miss.”

Diya ignored him, lifting her bag to her shoulder. She glanced at the station name as she exited the train. King’s Row.

Outside of the station, Diya pulled out her phone. Brodi was the one who’d just called. It was this third call of the night. Faige had called too. So had Lauren.

Diya deleted that record from her phone.

As she stood outside of the station, staring at her phone, it began to ring again. Brodi’s name popped up on the display. She sighed and hit the button to ignore the call, then turned the whole damn thing off. Couldn’t they just give her some space for once?

Although it was getting later in the evening, the train station was still a hub of activity. People just a few years older than her going out to bars in the more fashionable neighborhoods. Third shift workers heading to work. Heroes gathering, swapping war stories and waiting for the next disaster to strike.

Diya hiked her bag higher up on her shoulders and stalked past the heroes, and everyone else loitering around at night. She didn’t know where she was going, but she had to get away from here. Would the school put out some sort of missing person’s report and have those same heroes looking for her? Better to move while she still could.

A few blocks from the train station, Diya was practically the only one left on the street. Street lights were few and far between at this point, and about half of the buildings appeared to be abandoned or in a state of disrepair. Not that Diya was paying much attention to the architecture. She was staring ahead, trying to keep her treacherous mind at bay.

Screw up. Failure. Not good enough. Why can’t you just -

A wolf whistle from behind her startled Diya out of her dark thoughts. She spun around to face a dirty, greasy looking guy, about her age, emerging from a shadowy stoop. “What’s a cute young thing like you doin’ in a place like this? Come on inside, I’ll keep you safe,” he pointed towards the stoop with a disgusting leer.

“I don’t think so,” Diya snapped. She began to turn around to continue on her way.

“That weren’t no question, little girl,” the guy sneered. Diya heard a small sound of metal sliding on metal, but before she could react the guy’s hand was on her shoulder.

Anger, instinct, and her hero training took over. Diya reached up to grab the guy’s wrist and twisted it to break his grip. She spun around to face him, but the bag on her back had her off balance. As she moved in to punch the guy’s slimey face he came at her with the small knife he was holding. Both of them off balance, they both missed their intended marks. The guy’s knife slid across Diya’s forearm as she knicked the guy in the collar bone.

In one quick movement, Diya let go of the guy’s wrist and slid her bag from her shoulders. The pair circled each other for a moment. Diya’s honed instincts saw the guy taking a step forward and before she even registered his movement, she crouched low and swept her leg out to kick his feet out from under him.

The guy cried out and flailed as he fell on his back. Diya stood quickly, taking stock of the situation. The knife had fallen from the guy’s hand, but hadn’t gone far. She quickly picked it up and pointed it towards him. She kicked him in the side and he grunted in pain.

It felt good. She wanted to do it again. And again. Take out all of her anger and frustrations on this worthless piece of shit. She doubted anyone would ever miss him - just another scumbag left on the street. She’d be doing the city a service, and isn’t that what heroes are supposed to do?

But heroes also didn’t kill unarmed men. And there was no way she was giving this guy his knife back. A warning would have to do for now.

“If you ever try to pull some shitty move like that again, I swear to god I will hunt your sorry ass down,” she growled. “Get out of here before I start breaking limbs.”

The guy scrambled to his feet and sneered at Diya, but quickly retreated into his stoop.

As Diya gathered her bag from the dirty sidewalk, she looked at the knife. It was small, more like a Swiss army knife than a real switch blade. Still, might be good to keep on her for awhile.

A stinging pain as she slid her bag over her right arm caused a hiss of pain to escape from Diya’s lips. She looked down at the long, thin cut down the top of her forearm.

She froze in the street, just staring at it for a moment, a little dazed. Her heart was pounding and her breathing ragged, but after a minute she forced herself to swallow down her panic. This wasn’t the place for it. Besides, it was a shallow cut. Barely more than a scratch. No way this one was going to scar.

She folded up her new knife and slipped it into her pocket, on the opposite side from her phone. Last thing she needed was to be reaching for a knife and pulling out a phone instead.

Then she’d look like a really incompetent hero. Instead of just the semi-incompetent one she felt like now. She couldn’t even get out of a one-on-one knife fight without getting injured. How did anyone expect her to actually do this for a living some day, against guys tougher, meaner and better armed than this idiot was.

She needed to get out of here.

[Diya Behari]

Later Wednesday night, still in King’s Row

Navigation wasn’t Diya’s strong suit. Even though she’d only walked a few blocks from the train station, she hadn’t been paying attention to when and where she turned, and now she was in the middle of a half-abandoned shopping district. But it was a half-abandoned shopping district that was familiar - and when she spotted the trailer at the edge of the cracked and weed-infested parking lot, she realized why.

She swallowed hard, realizing suddenly it’d been hours since she’d had anything to drink. And even if it wasn’t the healthiest stuff, Diya knew that trailer had lots to drink inside it, and the proprietor didn’t exactly give a shit about the age of the people he was selling to.

Through a dirty window, Diya could see a bare bulb lighting the inside of the trailer. She knocked on the rickety door.

The occupant shuffled across the small trailer and opened the door, taking almost a moment that would have been comic in another setting to realize he needed to look down to see the petite girl on his stoop.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in!” Gary crowed in his raspy, wheezy voice.

Ugh, what am I doing here? I’m insane

“Uh, hi, Gary. I’m Diya? A friend of Roach’s?”

“‘Course! His little girlfriend!”

“Ah, no. No, not quite. Not at all, in fact.”

“What’re you doing on my stoop in the middle of the night?”

“Well, I...was hoping I could buy something off of you.”

Gary grinned. He was missing a few teeth, and the ones that remained were yellow. “Well, what did you have in mind, young missy?”

Diya gritted her teeth before digging into her bag, searching for her wallet. She fished it out, opened it and peeked inside. “Uh, what will five bucks and change get me?”

Roach’s middle-man for the black market leaned against the door frame, apparently deep in thought. “Five bucks alone won’t get you much anywhere, missy. But it could be a start - we could work out a trade?”

Diya blinked. It was late. She was having probably the third worst week of her life. He wasn’t saying... “What sort of trade?”

Gary kept grinning, and Diya couldn’t help but shudder as she felt him looking her up and down. “C’mon, missy. You’re a smart girl, right? You know five bucks won’t get you very far at all, and if you’re knocking on my door you’re desperate for some help. You come inside, spend the night, and I’ll make sure you’re set up nicely.”

A sharp laugh erupted from Diya’s throat. “Nicely? In a shit hole like this? What girl is desperate enough to fuck an asshole like you on a promise like that?”

The grin disappeared from Gary’s face. “Listen you little bitch -”

“Fuck off you fucking perv. You know where I go to school. You really want to test what I can do to a little rat like you?” She was betting on Roach never having told Gary what her abilities actually were, or on Gary remembering exactly who she was. Her hand hovered over the pocket holding her newly-acquired knife, just in case.

But Gary called her bluff. “Get out of here you slut!” He was shouting loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear, but Diya had the feeling ravings like this weren’t uncommon in this part of town.

She’d had enough of King’s Row. Time to get back on the damn train and find a new place to haunt.

***

Early Thursday morning on the train

Diya rode the train aimlessly for an hour or two, occasionally hopping to a different train going in the opposite direct and doubling back for awhile. They tell you when you’re a kid that if you get lost you should stay put so you don’t end up walking past your rescuers or something like that. Well right now “rescuing” was the exact opposite of what Diya wanted. If she kept moving, she decreased the likelihood anyone from Westbrook was going to find her.

But she was getting tired. Tired and hungry and still thirsty, though now she realized getting drunk was probably the last thing she should be trying to do. She drifted off a few times on the train, but always awoke with a start, positive that at the next stop someone from school would be getting on. Or perv number three for the evening would find her. Or cops would drag her into the station for loitering and she’d end up with a record before being dragged back to school. Not exactly a grand entrance.

When a pair of cops did in fact enter the car, Diya decided it was definitely time to get off at the next stop. They didn’t seem to be looking for anyone, so she felt pretty safe, but it was still time to move on.

“Next stop is Brickstown. Brickstown, next stop,” came the conductor’s announcement as the train pulled into the station. Diya and a handful of other passengers stepped into the unnaturally quiet station. Diya glanced at the digital clock on the wall - two AM.

Brickstown was better maintained than Kings Row, but was still creepy in the middle of the night. The infamous ZIG loomed large in the distance and Diya was pretty sure that the way her luck was going this evening she should steer clear.

Not too far from the train station, Diya stumbled across as mass of people exiting a dive bar. Yes, two AM. Closing time. Maybe her evening was looking up.

Instead of wandering aimlessly again, Diya trailed a few steps behind a cluster of drunken revelers. It might have been closing time at the bar, but Diya knew there were always a few drunks who needed sustenance to soak up the alcohol before heading home. That’s why 24 hour diners existed.

Just a block down from the bar the drunks stumbled into their destination. Diya glanced up at the flashing neon sign. THE BREAK-OUT DINER. Diya was too tired to appreciate the wit however. She just stumbled in after her unaware tour-guides, and holed herself up in a small booth in the corner of the diner.

A middle aged waitress approached after a minute to hand Diya a menu. She eyed the teenager warily and Diya returned her look with a sneer. “Awfully young to be out drinkin’ this late,” the waitress drawled.

“Awfully old to still be working as a waitress,” Diya snapped back. She snatched the menu from the waitress.

“You want somethin’ to drink or you just gonna sulk and take up space all night?”

“I just sat down, jeez!” The waitress was unmoved. “Coffee. Black.”

The waitress nodded then went behind the counter to retrieve a cracked mug stained at the bottom from years of use, and the coffee carafe. She set the mug down on Diya’s table with more force than necessary and poured coffee into it, not noticing, or caring, when some missed the mug and splattered onto the table. Diya waved the waitress off, pretending to stare at the menu rather than interact with her more than necessary.

From the bag with her football gear, Diya pulled out her wallet again and re-assessed her money situation. A five dollar bill, and probably another dollar in change. I really don’t think an extra buck would have changed Gary’s mind. She gulped down her mug of coffee all in one go; it wasn’t terribly hot, or terribly good, but it was caffeine and that was all she cared about right then.

When the waitress finally came back, Diya ordered two eggs, scrambled.

“You want toast with that?”

Diya glanced down at the menu. “The toast come with it?”

“Nope. Fifty cents more.”

“No, no toast.” The waitress smirked and whisked the flimsy plastic menu away.

Across the diner, the bar-hoppers Diya had followed in laugh uproariously and she felt her gut clench. She couldn’t help but wonder where her friends were right now. At Westy’s celebrating the team’s win? Chilling in the stadium? Gathered at Brooks’ tank?

She glowered at her reflection in the diner’s window. She was so paranoid someone from school was going to find her, she’d never stopped to consider they might be glad she was out of the way.

And why wouldn’t they be? She’d been a complete bitch on the field tonight; even if it was a dumb call to bench her over a stupid helmet, it probably just kept her from doing something even worse to jeopardize the team’s chances. Before that she was acting like a total child around Lauren. Roach? He might say they were friends but she knew he didn’t trust her. She was dangerous and might attack him, that’s what he’d been thinking while they were still under the influence of the Psionic Evolved attack.

Going back even further - if her mom had really wanted her to stay around, she could have listened to the damn shrink’s advice instead of letting Diya get sent away. And they never had said who had taken those pictures in Brazil. Maybe it was a teammate who just didn’t want her around any more.

The eggs arrived, rubbery and overcooked, but Diya didn’t care. She just mechanically shoved them into her mouth. They were disgusting, but that matched her mood.

Diya loitered at the Break Out Diner until the bar crowd had left, and the people who were just starting their day trickled in. Diya left the contents of her wallet on the table and hefted her bag onto her aching shoulders. She needed to lay down, but where?

As she left the diner, she turned east to see the sky tinged with pink. Something about this area was familiar now that she was fueled by crappy diner coffee and bad eggs. Almost of their own volition, her feet started walking, leading Diya step by step into more familiar turf.

Ten minutes later, Diya was hopping down a crumbling ramp into the remnants of the old parking garage she, Brook and Roach had discovered early in the summer. It’d been buried in debris since the first Rikti invasion, they had figured.

Diya stood at the entry for a few minutes, letting her eyes adjust to the dimness. Slowly she was able to start making out the features she remembered. The wheelless shopping trolley. The old car Roach had stripped to find salvage to sell for the start of their motorcycle fund.

This was also where she’d told Brook about why she insisted on wearing her stupid gloves all of the time.

Out of habit, Diya tugged on her gloves, reassuring herself they were firmly on her hands, protecting her in some small, probably entirely psychological, way. She shuffled forward, having enough light to avoid the major obstacles but not enough to trust she wouldn’t step on a bottle and slice her foot to hell.

Diya rounded a small wall, probably originally a barrier to divide one half of the parking area from the other, and found what she was looking for.

A mattress.

It was probably even more disgusting than it had been a few months ago. But at this point, what were her options, a park bench? A train car? No, best to be out of the way. Out of sight, out of mind.

Diya sat down on the mattress, then dug in her pack for her letter jacket. Down in the shadowy wreckage of the parking garage, it was even cooler than it had been on the street. The jacket wasn’t much, but better than nothing. She set the pack down to use as the world’s least-comfortable pillow, and was asleep in seconds.

[Roach Copeland]

Thursday, Mid-Morning. Kings Row

Roach moved through the alleyway of King's Row as if he had been through the neighborhood a thousand times. No flickering glances, no nervous gestures. No indication of fear or worry that secretly kept on nagging the back of his mind. To the outside world, the boy in the olive winter coat was a common visitor who knew how the rules here worked.

He passed a few Skulls who didn't bother to move away from the dumpster they were currently looking to set fire to. He ignored the man who begged for change by claiming to be an Rikti War vet when he was really just a herion addict. Roach passed the ladies of the night as they were heading off to bed and just brushed past the ladies of the afternoon as they offered a 'sample discount.'

Sadly, Roach knew what they had in mind with that.

He stepped out of the alleyway and onto the street, taking in a breath through his nose. It was already eleven in the morning, nearing lunch time, and his only break had been a janitor who remembered her leaving the station last night. She had reminded him of the daughter he lost eight years ago to an accidental fire.

Roach winced, rubbing the side of his head. He didn't need to recall that much detail.

Roach watched as a couple of factory workers walked by and pinged a mental imagine of Diya into their heads. They continued walking, all of them confused with the strange girl who had popped into their thoughts briefly. No dice. He crossed the street and moved into the next alley.

It wasn't that Roach didn't think Diya was coming back. Nor that she was going to do something stupid. He knew she was tough- tougher than the past. But... maybe he was pushing himself because she ran away instead of to Brook or him. They were friends and that's...

Not what you do...

Touche.

Roach continued down the alleyway, pinging the thought of Diya into the vagrants' head as they slept.

Nothing.

No Dice.

Diya was now taking part of that guy's sex fantasy- Sorry, Diya.

Nope, didn't know her.

She was the bitch that took my blade-

Roach turned on his heels. It was a kid. A kid around his age who looked much like Roach in the hygiene department when he first came to Paragon. The kid was just sitting on top of the dumpster, lazily swatting a stick at a wire hanging over head. He caught Roach's halt and glance and immediately straightened up.

"The fuck you looking at, bitch?" he asked. Roach recognized the routine immediately. He was going for the Alpha of this conversation. Roach also knew he was debating demanding Roach empy his pocket. Roach raised his gaze to meet the boy's eyes and just stared.

The kid clearly didn't find it as endearing as some would. He immediately hopped off the dumpster and moved up nice and close to Roach. "Little bitch, I asked you-"

A quick jab to his throat caused him to lose his words. He doubled back, clutching at his neck as his face went red and his eyes went wide. Roach just shook off his glove and lazily followed him.

"Sorry about that," Roach started as the teenager fell to the ground. Roach delivered a boot to his side, causing him to twist painfully onto his back. "Trust me- I've been there."

He then tugged at the knees of his pants so he could comfortably squat down. He grabbed the guy's collar, pulling him forward so that they both were enjoying eachother's breath. Eyes locked, intentions were shared.

"Let's talk about the bitch that stole your blade. Then let's talk about treating ladies with respect, huh?"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If this trailer be a rocking. Don't come a knocking!

Roach stared at the bumper sticker that Gary had on his trailer's door since they had known each other. The conversation with his friend in the alleyway had proved to be more fruitful than he had hoped. Apparently, the kid had followed Diya hoping to get some cred back but bailed when he thought she'd spotted him. He had found the area, followed his nose (and a few drunken memories of a wino) and ended up... here.

Gary's.

He rubbed at his brow and tried to hold his nerves back. Roach had done business with Gary since he had come to Paragon. Guy mostly got him alcohol and cigarettes for a price that was insulting to anyone who wasn't desperate. He had also sold some stuff for Gary at the school. Porn, stolen CDs, and the like. So, in short, Gary and him were business associates.

Roach also knew Gary was scum who had a fondness for ethnic women.

He hammered his knuckles against the door for an entire minute until he felt a drunken stupor touch at his mind. Yup. Gary was waking up. He heard the man shouting but Roach didn't care. He just kept knocking and knocking and knocking until-

"By squater law, I own this piece of pavement and I ain't movin'!" He heard the voice shout from behind the door followed by a shell being cocked into a chamber.

"Gary, I wouldn't want this piece of shit if you offered fifteen minutes with your mother as incentive." Roach crossed his arms, waited, and then heard several locks being undone. The door swung open and Gary stood in a robe, the front open to show off his tighty whities and beer belly.

"Hey, hey! Roach, my boy!" Gary offered a smile and it was fake- which wasn't new. However, Roach knew there was something different.

The little asian bitch of his probably squeeled. Lucky I didn't show her how she needed to be treated with an attitude like that.

Roach canted his head to the side as Gary attempted small talk. Verbally, Roach didn't hear a thing. He was far too interested in the memory he was getting. Diya was thirsty. She looked down. Probably could have gotten some coke in her to loosen her up. Bitch said no. Lucky I didn't show her the whore she-

Roach took a step forward, a foot stepping over the threshold of the trailer. Gary blinked, looked down, and then cleared his throat. "You need to come in or something, buddy? You know, I got this new shipment of-"

"You trespassed, Gary," Roach stated as he moved past the man and into the shithole. He heard Gary close the door behind him.

"This... this is my place, Roach. Listen, I don't know what that whore-" Gary began before realizing he suddenly felt an overcoming urge to not speak... or move.

Roach lingered for a moment, back turned to the man as he appraised some knick knacks on the shelves. He tapped at the side of a hula girl figuring, smirked as it began to sway, and then turned towards the man.

"You know how I said I controlled fire, Gary?" Roach asked as he pulled out his zippo, slapping it open to produce a flame. Roach took a few steps to cover the distance between them and waved it infront of Gary's nose. "I lied."

Roach let that sink into Gary's mind. And the moment it did and sweat from fear began trickling down the man's brow, Roach snapped the zippo closed.

"Gary. I used to hate when people said I was broken." Roach turned away from the frozen man, moving over to a bean bag chair to flop down in it. He shifted his weight around before finally getting comfortable and then looked back up. "Someone once told me I was one of those toys from the Island of Misfit Toys. See that cartoon?"

Gary just watched through unblinking eyes. Fear was increasing. Roach knew Gary was trying to focus, trying to put all his will behind moving his left arm to get to the shotgun he had leaned against the side of the wall.

Roach tsked and then stood up.

"You trespassed on my island, Gary. And you fucked with one of my toys," Roach spoke as he moved to the shotgun, plucked it up, and slipped the shoulder strap of the shotgun around the man's neck. Then Roach went to the back of the trailer, pulled out the kilo of cocaine and bag of weed Gary kept under his bed, and then returned to the man to stuff his robe's pockets.

"You know what's funny, though, Gary?" Roach asked as he tapped on the man's nose. "I've come to realize that everyone is broken. And we all are part of some island. So, I'm cleaning up my island and, buddy, you aren't making the cut."

Roach narrowed his eyes, grabbed the side of Gary's head, and then flashed him a smile. "Let's play some reindeer games"

---------------------------------------------------------
Thursday, Early Afternoon. Kings Row

Officer Pamela Mulligan leaned against the hood of her cruiser as her partner was inside the shop purchasing lunch. She had lost the coin toss so it was her job to fill out the paperwork. She always called Heads when she needed Tails!

"Excuse me?"

Officer Pamela Mulligan looked up from her ticket book as she heard the voice... and it took her less than a second for her eyes to go wide. Standing only a few feet away in his underwear and an opened robe was a middle aged man... holding a shotgun clumsily in his arms with his pocket's bulging outward. She immately pulled her weapon from her holster, taking aim.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to put down the gun-"

"This is an unregistered gun. You'll also find that I have several warrants out for my arrest concerning parking violations. I tried to proposition an underage girl for sex, as well," the man said as he dropped his arms, the shotgun now just dangling harmless from his neck.

Pamela just blinked, unsure to what to say about this. "Uh... is that all?"

"I have cocaine and weed in my pocket," the man paused and then said, "I'm also into prosititutes."

Pamela didn't know how to respond so... she followed her training. She read him his rights and then slapped some cuffs on him. Just as the cuffs locked into place, the man blinked, looking up sharply.

"The fuck? What's goin' on! This is my trailer! By squater's-" he stopped suddenly, clearly unsure of where he was. He struggled and Pamela pressed her knee to his back. "The hell!? What's goin' on!"

[Diya Behari]

Mid-morning Thursday, Brickstown

Diya awoke with a start.

She’d been dreaming, unpleasantly, but of course the dream was erased from her mind the second she opened her eyes. Where was she?

The daylight was bright enough to illuminate most of her hidey-hole now. Seeing the old junked car reminded her quickly of where exactly she was.

Diya stretched, groaning as she felt the bones in her back and shoulders pop. Sleepy on an old mattress on the sandy ground, with a bag full of football pads for a pillow was terrible on the back. Who knew?

Her stomach growled. She didn’t know exactly what time it was - her only clock was on her phone and there was no way in hell she was turning that on now. Whenever it was, it was bright and sunny and probably time for more food.

Not that she had any cash left. And her parents didn’t trust her with a credit card. Or even an ATM card. They sent her a check every two weeks, she cashed it, and there was her spending money. Her next check was due tomorrow. If the school hadn’t called her parents already and freaked them out so they cancelled the check before she could cash it.

After looking around quickly to make sure no one else was sharing the hideout at this point, Diya spent a few minutes trying to make herself presentable without the help of a mirror. She combed her fingers through her tangled hair before wrestling it back into its traditional pigtails. She dusted off her jacket, the turned her shirt back right-side out. It was a white T-shirt, so it hardly looked “clean” at this point, but now some of the lighter stains were hidden.

A reassuring tug on her gloves and a pat of her pockets were the last parts of her ritual before pulling her pack onto her back again and heading back out into the world.

***

Thursday, noon, Atlas Park

Yet again, Diya rode the train aimlessly. When she finally had the urge to move, she found herself in a much swankier part of town than she’d been hiding in last night - Atlas Park. Nice enough area that she didn’t think she’d get hassled, but crowded enough she could slip by unnoticed.

Clustered around the station were not only the ordinary super heroes, the ones Diya was expected to join some day after graduating from Westbrook, but also the larger-than-life monuments to the great ones who had fallen.

Diya took her time wandering through the plaza, hoping she’d be mistaken for a tourist despite her Westbrook jacket and shirt.

Reading the plaques dedicated to the dead heroes’ bravery didn’t exactly help Diya’s mood. All of these people were “real” heroes. People who obviously could help save the world. They had super strength and could fly and shoot freakin’ laser beams from their eyes. They each went out in a blaze of glory. Diya rubbed her left leg, the one that had been burned in the invasion a few weeks back. Not be some big bad guy, but another guy fighting for the good guys, but in a faulty mech-suit. His suit basically blew up five minutes in, and her leg caught the full force of some burning wreckage. No permanent damage, not to her leg anyway.

But it just further proved to her that maybe Westbrook wasn’t where she belonged. Maybe sending her to a school for metas had been a stupid idea. Her dad had thought being at a school with people “like her” would make her feel less alone, less isolated from the rest of the world. But she was KO’d by someone on her own side, while Brodi was able to avoid being hurt at all thanks to his water form. She wasn’t a normal human anymore - maybe never had been - and she couldn’t even get the superhero-ing thing done right.

Once again, failure all around.

***

Thursday, 2 PM, Atlas Park

After a few hours of feeling sorry for herself, Diya stumbled out of Atlas Plaza. The statues, the crowd, the noises, they were all just getting to be too much to handle on little sleep and an empty stomach.

She set her pack down on a park bench - damn it was getting heavy - and flopped down next to it, not caring that taking an entire bench to herself is poor bench etiquette. Feeling too tired to even sit up properly, she leaned over, propping her elbows on her knees and pressing the heels of her hands into her forehead.

She needed to figure out what to do.

Diya wasn’t exactly known for having an introspective nature and top-notch problem solving abilities, but there were a few things she could figure out.

Getting angry and storming off the field? Had fixed nothing.

Avoiding Lauren to the point of absurdity? Had fixed nothing.

Throwing a pity party over her mutation in Atlas Park? Had fixed nothing.

All she’d gotten out of the last 24 hours was humiliated at school, knifed by a dumb punk (seriously, why kind of super hero has that happen?), and too many cups of bad diner coffee.

“You okay, little girl?”

Diya jerked up to look at the person standing in front of her. It was a superhero. Of-fucking-course. Tall, blonde, boobs and ass practically hanging out of her outfit. Nothing special here.

The super seemed startled by Diya’s sudden reaction. “Hey, sorry, my mistake. Definitely not a little girl.”

All Diya could muster was a grunt.

The super nodded at jacket. “So. Westbrook student?”

Diya’s stomach sunk. Here it was. The school had sent someone to rescue her. She nodded.

“That’s cool. I wish they’d been around when I was a kid.” Diya glanced up. “Isn’t this a school day, though? Shouldn’t you be on campus?”

“Do they really have heroes working as truant officers now?”

“Nope, no truancy. Just trying to do my job. I figure something’s gotta be pretty rough if you’re choosing to use a skip day to sit on a park bench out here rather than do any of a million other things kids should be doing while skipping.”

Diya looked up at the hero suspiciously. “You’re not a psionic, are you?”

The super laughed, a light and melodious laugh, just like all the female super heroes are “supposed” to have. “No, not at all. But you get good at reading people in this line of work. If you can read a villain, to figure out if he’s going for a weapon or just to run away, half of your work is done ahead of time.”

Diya sighed. She was terrible at reading people, too.

The superhero sat down on the bench next to Diya, who couldn’t help but cringe. So much skin was showing - why would she want that in contact with a public bench?! “You know, no matter how powerful a super hero is, life isn’t always easy for any of us.” She caught Diya rolling her eyes at the platitude. “I know, it’s trite, but hear me out? You have on days and off days. One day your best friends with a girl, and the next it turns out she was actually an Arachnos spy. You don’t know if people are your friends because you’re awesome or they want to get something out of you. And sometimes you end up jealous because someone can do something so unbelievably awesome you’re sure the universe hates you for not giving you that ability.” The super glanced sideways at Diya. “I’m not gonna ask if I came even close to nailing any of your problems. Hell, maybe you’re just pissed off at your boyfriend for running off with another guy. And that’s cool too.” The super stood up. “But if you’re a Westbrook student, someone who has meta-abilities? I think you know that just sitting here isn’t actually going to get you anywhere.”

Diya looked up at the woman. “I don’t know if they’re gonna let me stay. Or if they even want me any more.” She figured the woman would assume she meant the school, but deep down Diya knew she meant a lot more than just the administration.

“Do you wanna just keep sitting here wondering?” Diya shrugged her shoulders. “It’s your life kid, you gotta make your own decisions, and you gotta face the music too.” She stared Diya down for a moment before nodding and effortlessly taking flight.

Diya rolled her eyes. Stupid people who could fly.

But Diya was tired. Physically, of course, but in every other sense, too.

She couldn’t go back. Not yet. What would she say? Just slip into her last period class like nothing mattered?

No, she wasn’t ready to face Westbrook. Not quite yet.

But she could stop running.