The setting sun hung low in the horizon over the outskirts of the city, its fading rays adding additional dreariness to a part of the town that was already unpleasant on even the brightest of days. It was familiar scenery to the young woman who now walked hurriedly along the cracked, nearly abandoned sidewalks. An empty can bounced with a hollow clang off of her sneaker as she walked, skipping into the street with a noisy chatter of metallic protests. Businesses would be shutting down soon, not that there was much of anything here to begin with. Pawn shops, dive bars, bail bondsman, and payday loan outfits lined the streets in one depressing, dilapidated heap of bricks after another. The only kind of businesses that could really exist in a place where people no longer cared about life or had lost their purpose. She pulled her worn leather jacket more tightly against the early spring chill that continued to stubbornly cling to the air as she pressed on.
She was alone. But she was used to that; for nearly half of her life, she had always felt alone. Her mother gone. Her stepfather never around, or too drunk to care whenever the police brought her home. She knew that she was being a brat, lashing out to get her step-father’s attention, the kind of attention he had once showered on her with heartfelt care before her mother died. After she was gone, it was as if he had become a different person. No longer the ray of sunshine who used to wake her up for school by singing her favorite songs, brightening the ungodly hour with his warm voice. No longer the embodiment of care and concern. Even his handsome, sharp-cut appearance had quickly faded, like a photograph left out in the blazing sun.
She wanted to hate him, but never could. He was a broken man with a broken heart. No, she hated her mother for dying, for leaving them. She hated God for letting it happen. She hated the world for not caring. But she would show them all. As soon as she was 18, she left home. Unlike her earlier attempts at running away, there was now no one who could make her go back. And she had all the help she needed anyway, or so she had thought. In the six months before her eighteenth birthday, she had met Enrique. About seven years her senior, he was handsome, sophisticated, and wealthy. More importantly, he had listened to her; showering her with attention when no one else would. Promising to take her away from all her miseries, that it would be them against the world, that he loved her. He told her everything she needed to hear and more! She was a fool.
It was all an act. A class-act that he had pulled a thousand different times on a thousand different girls and, as many did before her, she had fallen for it like a house of cards. It wasn’t even a week before she discovered what kind of man Enrique was, or how he made his wealth. And like the rest of his ‘girls’, she was soon forced to work the streets. For the first time in her life, she hated the fact that she was pretty: her blond curls and petite, well-shaped form made her the catch of the day for every wretched customer she had been forced to serve. Oh, she had tried to resist at first, they all had. But like every tyrant who has ever lived knows, when you take everything from someone, they can only depend on you. And Enrique was the twisted master of that philosophy. Something he made sure to ruthlessly reminded her and the others of. Every. Single. Day. For nearly two, hellish years. But no more.
Oh, she had played along. She let him believe that he had broken her like everyone else before him. But inside, she waited. She waited and planned. Planned to make her escape from this hell. Many had tried before her, and many times she was tempted to try with them; all had failed. And the consequences that they had all suffered for their attempt had sickened her to a degree that she thought she had long grown past. But with each failure, she learned. She observed what each of those other girls had done wrong and planned accordingly. And today, all of her planning finally paid off. She had gotten away; she was on the home stretch. Four more blocks and she would be at the bus station. Thirty more minutes until she was on her way, she did not care where. Anywhere but here. So long as it was far away from Enrique, far away from this city, far away from everyone. She had vowed two years prior that she was going to show the world; and no one, not even a sadistic monster like Enrique was going to stop her. She still felt a small twinge of guilt for all of the other girls who were still under his heel. Perhaps once she was safe, she could find a way to help them as well. But for now, she had to take care of herself. A smile of grim determination curved her lips, her blue eyes narrowing at the thrill of success. A small victory that she had waited for so long to have, and it was nearly hers.
She was so lost in her thoughts, that she did not even see the other person rounding the corner until the back of his shoulder crashed into her with jarring force, knocking the bag from her shoulder and sending her towards a painful landing on the pavement. Or it would have, had not a strong hand quickly snatched onto her upper arm, halting her fall. Her purse was not as lucky, it struck the ground, scattering half of its contents across the sidewalk. “Sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there!” Said a young male voice. She shook her head once to clear it.
“Ugh! Why don’t you watch where you’re going ya jerk!” She exclaimed, Brooklyn accent thick in her voice as she immediately looked about for her scattered possessions, alarmed to see that they were nowhere in sight.
“Here, here you go. Sorry about that.” Confused, she turned to the source of the voice and saw a young man holding the bag out to her. She couldn’t place his accent, it sounded a bit foreign, but she could not place it. European maybe? He was young, about her height, maybe half an inch taller. His face was remarkably smooth and angular, almost hawk-like yet still bearing strong features. His wind-swept hair was an intense platinum blond, nearly white yet with an unmistakable hint of gold. He was slender but with a strong, athletic build that only regular training could provide. He was wearing a brown bomber jacket with various patches on the shoulders over a black shirt and what appeared to be blue jeans, but the material was not immediately familiar to her.
What was most striking, though, were his eyes. They were of a lighter shade of blue than hers, like the blue in a clear, spring sky but they also possessed small streaks of violet in them that spread out in a star-burst pattern from around his pupils. They were open wide, staring in seeming wonder at her; the fact that his mouth hung half-open only added to the look. She was used to guys staring at her, most of their looks would easily fall into the category of demeaning, lustful, or indifference. But this, this look fell into none of those categories. The kid, as she could tell he was at least a few years younger than her, seemed genuinely awestruck.
“And what are you looking at?” She snapped as she grabbed the offered bag from his hand. She could have sworn she heard her bag spill out on the street, but whatever. The young man blinked once as if slapped.
“Sorry.” He repeated while continuing to stare at her albeit with a bit more reserve in his facial expression.
“Ya act like you’ve never seen a girl before,” she quipped to which he responded with a nervous chuckle while rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. She had to admit, he was very handsome, but that look on his face made him look more like a star-struck idiot. Glancing around the pavement once more to check if she had dropped anything, she turned and continued walking, “See ya dork.”
“Hey, wait up!” he shouted after her as she pressed on towards her destination. She did not stop walking but found that he had quickly fallen into step besides her.
“Scram kid, I don’t have time for you.” What’s this guy’s deal?!
“Look, I’m new in town and I’m trying to find somepony-er…people. Could you please give me some advice, or point me in the right direction towards the nearest library or something?”
“You want my advice? Go find someone who cares because right now I don’t and I have somewhere else to be so screw off.” She tried to saturate her voice with as much dismissive sarcasm as possible, but none of this seemed to deter him.
“Aw c’mon, please? I’ll make it worth your while.” If it were not for the guileless innocence in his voice, she would have backhanded him. She nearly did anyway, but there was something different about him. Instead she stopped abruptly and turned to face him.
“Look, what is your problem, huh?! You ask every person you smash into for help?” She snapped while getting in his face. He nearly stumbled backwards off the sidewalk in response. He blinked but maintained a small, open-mouthed smile.
“No problem,” he replied softly, “I just, well…I…”
Jeez, what a total geek! Has he never even talked to girl before?! Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by the roar of an engine and the sound of tires screeching to a halt behind them. Oh no… A feeling of dread slammed her in the gut with such force that it nearly took her breath away. She recognized that black car; a black Dodge Charger with tinted glass and ridiculously gaudy chrome rims. No...No, no, NO…DAMNIT! The rumbling motor was killed while the driver side and two rear passenger doors opened simultaneously as three men climbed out and stepped up onto the sidewalk. The kid on her left eyed them warily.
“Friends of yours?” He asked while he lowered his hands to hang loosely at his sides.
The man who had gotten out of the far side of the car walked up around the hood to position himself behind them. She knew his name was Oliver, but everyone called him ‘Slab’, a fitting name for such a huge slob. A close-cropped haircut and mustache adorned his pale head and face out of which his small, greedy eyes gleamed. Never much for brains, but his heft made him reliable, easily directable muscle. She didn’t recognize the driver, short with shaggy brown hair and tan skin; the look in his eye said that he meant business though. But it was the final man, the once sidling up to her now that made her blood run cold, Damian. Slightly taller than her with a medium build, wearing loose jeans, and his signature black leather jacket over a red shirt, he had a shaved head but kept a well-trimmed goatee; and that was his last good quality. Try crossing the compassion of a spider with all the tenderness of Freddy Krueger and you would begin to get an idea of what kind of person Damian was. A true sadist, he was Enrique’s right hand man and main enforcer. Worse than his boss, the mere mention of his name could force a girl to do unspeakable things. The knowing, smug grin on his pale face made her skin crawl.
“Ella…” He said with feigned friendliness in his Midwestern accent, “The boss has been looking all over for ya.” He cast a casual glace to her left at her companion. “You wasn’t about to leave town without saying goodbye were you? That would break Enrique’s heart.” Ella’s right hand had subtly slipped into her bag from the first moment she saw the car pulling up. That same hand was now in a white-knuckled, death grip around the handle of a snub-nosed .38 revolver that she had managed to steal before she took off. Her eyes narrowed in a defiant glare, her heart slamming against her ribs as her breathing increased. She would die before she would be taken back by him; death was preferable to what Damian no doubt had in store for her. By now Slab had taken up position and was looming tall over her and her annoying acquaintance.
As her mind raced as to what to do next, the strange young man took a step forward towards Damian with his arm angled out slightly between her and her tormentor. What are you doing you idiot?! Ella screamed in her mind. She had no attachment to the kid, but neither did she want to see his pretty face turned into paste on the sidewalk.
“I do not believe the lady desires your attention, sir.” He said coolly, his face had lost its cheerful appearance, “After all, she has somewhere else to be.” Damian’s dark eyes widened slightly in what Ella knew was perverse delight as the twisted grin that split his face grew.
“Oh, my apologies kid. I didn’t realize you’d made a call on her. I can get you a refund if you like. In fact,” he reached into his jacket and pulled out a business card that he flicked at his face which was subsequently caught between the fingers of the younger man’s other hand with somewhat, astonishing speed. With a quick scan, the kid deposited it in one, fluid motion inside his jacket. Damian nodded, looking fairly impressed. “Call me up,” he continued, “I’ll hook you up with a much better piece than her. This one needs some,” he paused as he considered Ella for a second, “Tuning up.” She grimaced as she resisted the urge to be sick at the smugness in his voice. “I’m sorry kid, I didn’t get your-”
“Flash.” He said with no small amount of venom. He stared daggers at Damian. For what felt like a minute, he simply stared; a palpable rage seemed to radiate from his entire being, adding to the already growing tension that was steadily filling the air.
Ella found herself locked onto his unusual eyes, a light seemed to shine momentarily from them. She blinked and it was gone. It was like looking into the eyes of a wild animal, a predator. He seemed nothing like the sweet, dumb kid from just a few moments ago.
“Just, walk away,” he finally said in a calm, level voice. “Just walk away, and I won’t give you what you deserve to get.” Damian choked back a scoff and shook his head in mirthful disbelief, Slab stepped up closer behind Flash, bumping into him with his girth.
“Oh man,” Damian laughed, “My day is getting full of all KINDS of fun!” Ella’s eyes shifted back and forth, contemplating her next move. She could use this opportunity to make a break for it and leave hero-boy to his admirable, yet idiotically-chosen fate; this distraction might be her only chance to do so. Yet at the same time though, she had to admit that she was truly touched by his actions, even if he was about to get himself killed for it. She could not remember the last time someone had genuinely stood up for her. He had her at a loss.
“Say, that’s a nice jacket you got there Flash, I especially like that patch,” Damian said gesturing to the lower of the two patches on Flash’s right shoulder. It was one of a curved, rainbow-colored lightning bolt emerging from a white cloud. “You don’t mind if I have a look…” A shadow seemed to pass over Flash’s face as Damian moved to make a rough grab for it. Ella made her choice.
“Damian, just leave the kid alo-” she was abruptly cut off as Damian’s hand suddenly changed directions in a backhanded fist towards her face. A loud ‘slap’ cut through the air.
Ella barely breathed, staring in disbelief at the fist trembling a mere inch from her nose; Flash’s hand was clamped like iron about its wrist. The next few seconds were a blur of shouts, cursing, and movements so fast that they had to be seen to be believed.
Flash’s head jabbed forward, smashing Damian’s nose in with a bone-crunching headbutt. The movement was quick, almost bird-like. It reminded Ella of a heron spearing a fish with its beak. Damian let off a choked screamed as he crumpled to the ground clutching at his bloodied face.
In the next instant, Flash had already driven his left elbow back with a resounding ‘whump’ into Slab’s gut with the force of pile-driver, driving the air from his lungs. Continuing with his leftward momentum, Flash spun around and leaped off the ground with explosive force, brutally connecting his right knee to the underside of Slab’s chin just as he was doubling over from the crippling blow to his midsection; both blows landing in just over a second. Flash hand shot out as he landed lightly back on the sidewalk, grabbing onto the now unconscious man’s massive shirt, slowing his backward fall so that his skull would not crack open on the pavement.
The driver swore as he stepped forward, beginning to draw a pistol from the inside his jacket. Ella reacted on instinct and immediately kicked as hard as she could between the man’s legs, she could practically hear a bell ring as she struck home. The the man fell forward holding himself in a breathless gasp of agony.
Flash gave her a look of surprised amusement mixed with gratitude. He ended the man’s misery with a quick shove of his head into the side of the car, sending him off to dreamland. Ella noticed that for all his exertion, the mysterious kid wasn’t even breathing hard.
“Thanks for the save,” he said with a smile, “But I would have had-”
“LOOK OUT!” she screamed as with a sudden growl Damian had sprung up off the ground, lunging towards Flash with a knife aimed directly at this abdomen.
With almost casual ease and impossible speed, Flash once more caught the man’s wrist, halting the tip of the blade just a few inches from his gut. Damian responded by throwing his right fist at the side of his head, but Flash blocked it with his left forearm in one smooth movement, before wrapping and trapping his opponent’s arm with his own. Damian screamed as his wrist was squeezed with enough force to fracture it, causing him to drop the knife; Ella winced as she heard the audible ‘crunch’ of his bones breaking. But as much as Damian struggled, he could not break free from his opponent's grip who strangely, did not seem to be exerting much effort.
“I told you,” Flash sighed, “You should have just walked away.” With that, he headbutted Damian in the face once more, his screaming abruptly cut off as he crumbled to the sidewalk in an unconscious heap. Flash took one last look at the man to make sure he was truly out before wiping some blood off of his forehead with the back of his hand,
“Eh…great job Flash. Mom’s gonna kill me,” he muttered under his breath. Ella gaped at him in disbelief, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to think. As he looked at her, his serious expression melted once more into that nervous smile, “So, Ella. That’s a beautiful name.”
“WHAT THE HELL?!”