“Because there’s still a fucking pandemic! I know, it’s one thing if you have to go out for your job, like if you’re an essential worker or whatever, but come on, swanning around town because you’re bored, not distancing or wearing a mask, and being pissed at so-called ‘oppression’ is just such bullshit! And so stupid. There is real oppression out there, and it’s not affecting these assholes who are being asked to wear a mask.”

Hmm, Milo thought, watching his human storm around the kitchen. Something’s got her all riled up. He flicked his tail, content to perch on his carpeted tower. All the better to survey his domain. His human had been spending a lot more time at home lately. At first, it had annoyed Milo, but he’d quickly gotten used to having her around. He actually preferred it, not that he’d ever let her know.

“Dr. Johnson, you really need to do something about Chantel Richards.” The administrator waved his hands about in exasperation.

Dr. Johnson sighed, lifting her gaze from the laptop before her. Bureaucrats. Always interrupting important work for their rambles.

“Why?”

The man shuffled his feet. “Weren’t you listening?”

“No, I wasn’t. You have interrupted a very important line of thought, so I’d suggest you get on with it.”

“But you just told me a few weeks ago that you were ready to start dating? Why won’t you just talk to this guy, I think he’d be perfect for you!”

“Yeah, but Carly,” Shayne said, staring at the blurry image of her best friend on the computer screen, “that was before everything went to shit and we all had to go on lock down. Why should I bother trying to meet anyone now, when I won’t even be able to see them for months?”

Carly crossed her arms, a sure sign she was going to dig in her heels. “It’s not like the early stages of dating are even that different. Everyone just talks through the apps or texts at first anyway. And there’s video calls, and regular calls-”

“Thrilling.”

She watched as he stalked toward her, a smile tugging at her lips. His brilliant green eyes gazed straight into hers, and he moved with a predatory grace, all loose muscle and subtle confidence. She itched to touch him, to feel his sleekness under her palms. Pride and independence flashed in his eyes, and she longed to know what he was thinking.

Finally he stood before her, full of non-nonchalant swagger. She watched his eyes widen as she lunged forward, scooping him up, holding him close to her chest.

“Who’s my good wittle kitty cat?!”

The small cat grumbled in her embrace. So much for being a fierce warrior…

© The Lightning Tower, 2020

“Okay, why are you following me?”

“What? I’m not following you.”

“Yes, you are. I saw you at the grocery store, the library, and on the bus. What gives?”

“Well…”

“WHY?!”

“No need to yell! Would you believe me if I told you-”

“That I’m, what, chosen? Not that cliché.”

“Well, things become cliché for a reason…”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m really not. Hey, no need to push!”

“Just leave me alone. I have enough going on without more crazy following me around.”

“About that…”

“Ugh. What?”

“Didn’t you ever wonder why crazy seems to follow you?”

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

© The Lightning Tower, 2020

WhirrrrrRRRrRRrRrrRRRrr-

“I think you broke the blender,” Nico sighed, hands clapped over his ears to block out the loud grinding noise.

“No, it’s fine,” Caroline said, flicking it off and peering at the foamy, half-blended concoction.

“Does it always smell like burning plastic?”

Captain Moral’s eyes widened through his emerald green mask when he recognized the woman standing next to him in the throng of protesters. “What are you doing here?”

Professor Pyro smirked, her eyes bright behind her own leather mask. “While I may be this city’s resident supervillain,” she said, hefting her sign so the handle rested on her other shoulder, “that doesn’t mean I’m… evil.”

The rattle of the train covered up the man’s choked gasps, for which Ara was grateful. She held the wire tight against his throat, and tried to hold on as his body flailed, searching for oxygen. It didn’t usually take this long; this particular mark sure had a strong will to live. Eventually, though, he started to falter, to sag against her, and finally, like they all did, collapse to the ground, pulling her down with him.

Ara held on for a few minutes more, making sure he was good and dead. It wouldn’t do her any good to have him wake up and storm the train looking for her. She was more of a professional than that. She released her hold on the garrote, and dragged herself out from under his body. She leaned over, checking for a pulse. Nothing. Good.

Fear held her frozen in place as she stared down the horror before her. This was her fate, her destiny, her purpose, and yet… Her battle cry stuck in her throat, her ax limp at her side. Her eyes darted along the monster before her, unable (or unwilling?) to comprehend what she was seeing. It drew itself up, higher and higher above her, and she knew, just knew, that this would be her end.

© The Lightning Tower, 2020

Alexis leaned back in her chair with a groan, glancing around the small study nook on the first floor of their dorm.

“What is it?” Vita glanced up from her own writing, peering across the table to where her friend sat.

“I keep writing poetry,” Alexis sighed, stretching her arms above her head, then rolling her neck side to side.

“And that’s a problem, why?” Vita asked.