Chapter 1

My feet thud against the cold, unforgiving floor-- each hurried breath feels precarious, teetering on the edge of panic. My heart violently thrashes against my ribcage as I dash down the dimly lit hallway. The blaring alarms echo in my ears, flashing red and blue like a chaotic strobe light. The small blue vase I’m clutching slips slightly in my grasp, its surface cool and smooth compared to the frantic heat of my palms. The angry shouts behind me reverberate, growing louder and more insistent. Pain radiates through my skull, and I can feel the relentless pounding of my heartbeat echoing in my toes. My breath quickens, fogging up my mask and making each inhalation feel like a struggle. 

Out of the corner of my eye, a pair of heavy double doors looms on my left, leading to the stairs that spiral up to the rooftop. I take a leap of faith, veering sharply to the left and bursting through the doors. A bead of sweat snakes down my forehead, mingling with the adrenaline coursing through my veins. My shoulder collides roughly with the doorframe, with a  jolt of pain that promises a bruise later. I sprint up the staircase, muscles burning with exertion. The shouts behind me begin to fade as I ascend higher, a small victory that pushes me onward. 

By the time I reach the top, I’m panting. A sly grin tugs at my lips as I read the sign quietly: “Authorized Personnel Only.” “Hah!” I scoff, breathless. With a firm shove, I fling the doors open, and the night air slaps me like a bucket of ice, invigorating and sharp. Before me sprawls the city, a vibrant tapestry of lights shimmering below, each twinkle illuminating the darkness like a constellation scattered across the earth. The skyline, a jagged silhouette of glass and steel, reflects the radiance of those lights, creating an almost haunting elegance that pulls me in. 

With trembling hands, I carefully set the artifact on a nearby bench, it's childlike a reminder of the absolute s**t I’ve gotten myself into. I instinctively cross my arms to fend off the creeping cold, but a sharp twinge from my shoulder makes me wince. “Ouch…” I hiss softly. Maybe crashing through those doors wasn’t my brightest move. 

I attempt to pull the black cloak sleeve up over my shoulder, but the fabric bunches, refusing to budge past my elbow. Ugh, forget it. Turning quickly to survey the rooftop, I scan for prying eyes. Once satisfied that I’m alone, I remove my cloak before I wrestle my sweater over my head with a wince, the frigid air biting at my bare skin. Of all days to not wear a T-shirt… Just my luck. I twist to grab my shoulder, feeling the unmistakable bruise forming. Damn.

A playful, teasing voice breaks the stillness. “Ouch, that looks like it hurts… You okay, G?” 

I freeze in my tracks. Cy. 

S**t. 

Cyclone, or Cy, is my so-called ‘nemesis.’ Technically, he’s the hero of today’s narrative; honestly, he’s the hero in nearly every tale I find myself entangled in. I steal a glance at the glaring digital billboard looming above the city center, its garish brightness splashing across my face. It displays a grainy image of me from two months ago, caught in the act of robbing diamond rings from a local store. Above, in bold, blood-red letters: “WANTED: Local Vigilante ‘Gloom’.” 

Let me get something straight: I wouldn't be stealing if I didn't have to. If you were in my shoes, you’d realize that it is extraordinarily hard to find pay for your college education with no job. Finding a job can be insufferable, especially when opportunities seem to fade when you’re lacking the extraordinary skills that everyone seems to need. 

Take waitressing, for instance. I can’t compete with others who have levitation powers or super-speed, rendering me almost completely invisible in a pool of capable candidates. When it comes to construction work, my lack of superhuman strength or X-ray vision rules me out entirely. And I'm not so crazy to think that I'll ever qualify to  get a job; which leads me to where I am now.

The only thing left for people like me is to grovel at peoples feet and beg. I will not be groveling. Ever.

Anyway, I’ve carved my own path, even if it’s not one I’m proud of. I guess at the end of the day survival is survival. 

And this… is not a good look for me. After very quickly weighing my options, I dash back to the bench, snatch the artifact, and take off again. I glance over my shoulder, only to find Cy perched on the rooftop's edge. His eyes glimmer with mischief and a slow, predatory grin creeps across his face. A wild but gravely serious part of me considers pushing him off the roof, but I shake the thought away;-- it wouldn’t even phase him. Instead, I refocus on my escape, sprinting away from my impending doom.

I make a sharp right and slam the stair doors open with my shoulder again-- ow. I skid to a stop, peering cautiously out of the windows to gauge the rooftop’s expanse. Jumping to see over the frame, I notice Cy has vanished from the rooftop entirely. Good or bad? Who knows, but running seems to be the smart choice right now. I take a step back, and my back hits something hard. Whatever I've just backed into is definitely not a wall. 

In that moment, I realize two things: One, I'm still in my sports bra, and two, I am utterly, irrevocably fucked.

                                 …

I slowly turn around with a pained expression on my face. Definitely not a wall. Cy stands there, arms crossed, leaning against the concrete wall as he fishes something out of his pocket. He pulls out… A lollipop? He spends a good 4 seconds trying to get the plastic wrapper off of it before finally succeeding and placing it in his mouth. I stand there, so completely baffled that I'm rendered speechless. Shouldn’t he be trying to capture me? Or atleast saying something snarky? I glance around the stairwell. No way out; yet. “Looking for something?” Ah; there's the snarky comment. I return my attention back to Cy, combatting the twinkle in his eyes with a fierce glare. “You are a funny man, you know that?” I say, dripping with sarcasm. He gasps dramatically and places his hands on his chest with an exaggerated flourish. “You really think that?” 

I scoff in response. Before he can respond, I say a quick mental farewell to my poor battered shoulder before bursting back out of the double doors, and running out onto the rooftop again. I have a plan; I swear. Kidding. I have no f*****g clue what i’m doing. The artifact is still in my hands, so I still have the upper hand... for now. I glance back at the bench; my cloak & my sweater are both still sitting there, blowing slightly in the wind. To grab or to not to grab? That is the question.

Nah, i’m just f*****g with you. I’m totally grabbing them. Give me a break; It’s 30 degrees outside and I'm in a sports bra. Cy can wait. Artifact in hand, I sprint to the bench and grab my stupid cloak and start to reach for my sweater, but it won’t budge. Well, isn’t that nice? My sweater’s snagged on the bench. Now’s not the time for this, buck-o. I silently reprimand my article of clothing before aggressively ripping it off of the bench. Poor sweater. 

I slip on my cloak, shoving my sweater in a pocket, before I whirl around to run… somewhere… (I have no idea what I'm doing right now) but something obstructs my vision. I jump. “GAH!” Cy stands there, slightly irritated. “Game over, G.” he says, with his patented predatory grin. His green eyes twinkle at me, and it’s almost blinding. People like him should have a little horn they toot to prepare normals like me for their arrival. 

I glance at the cityscape behind me, then to my right; a bench. To my left, another bench. (Seriously, who needs this many benches?) And right in front of me, staring at me like I'm fresh meat, is Cy. Great.  Cy doesn’t wear a disguise. He just throws on a hoodie and some jogging pants and calls it good. I don't get it; He’s so famous I think everyone in the world knows his face, and he doesn’t wear a disguise? Here's the funny thing, though; nobody’s ever seen him outside of his hero work. Ever. Not in public, in a house, at a park, not anywhere. Cy c***s his head at me, and I suddenly realize I've been staring for too long.

A sudden realization strikes me. I glance at my left glove. Here's a secret; it doubles as a grappling hook. Long story;-- I major in engineering and robotics. I was inspired by Spider-Man, but I didn't think the silly string would hold up as well in action. Today, I couldn't find my other glove, so I just threw this one on. Good thinking, past me. “Checkmate,” Cy says as he inches closer. I back up until I can’t anymore; I’d really prefer not to use this glove at all. Jumping off a building doesn’t seem as fun as you might think. 

It seems I don't have much of a choice. I put on my brave face. "Not this time. I commend you for your effort, though,” --I give him a small salut-- “Sayonara, SUCKER!" 

I plunge backward off the rooftop, artifact in hand. Everything happens all at once; Colored luminescence from bright billboards pirouettes off of every wet surface, creating a multifariousness of dizzying shades and shadows that cause my vision to blur and my eyes to water. The wind whips by, rendering me completely senseless. Adrenaline courses through my veins as my stomach rises to my throat. I fumble for my glove, aim my wrist at a nearby building, and press the small button on its hilt, praying it works. This is not how I expected to spend my Friday night.