16. Another Case of Shadowed Alley Syndrome
Later that night, I'm sitting on the edge of a rooftop in the centre of the city, trying to get over my immensely unhelpful – not to mention annoying – fear of heights. I have that damned suit on – just in case someone finds it awfully suspicious that a normal looking brown haired teenage boy is perched dangerously on the edge of a building and occasionally, flying around. I don't really care about the fact that, me having the suit on faces me with the whole new problem as being recognised as the superhero that was on the television last night. If anybody wants to stare and point, I'll just give them the fat finger and fly off.
Yeah, as you can probably tell, my mood isn't the greatest right now. Hell, it hasn't been the greatest all day. My mood soured this morning when I got a slightly annoying, highly suspicious, but mostly threatening text from an unknown number. Sounds cliché, right? But it gets better. That text was only the start. This guy's determined, alright. I've had at least 6 'threatening' texts over the last 8 hours – all from the same number, of course. The context of the texts are laughably cliché, too. I will kill you, I know who you are... That general type of low IQ shite.
How on earth it's managed to get under my skin, though, I don't know. It shouldn't have – this guy's threats are so lamely pathetically generic that I should be laughing my ass off right now. But I'm not. This guy might absolutely suck at anything at all related to the art of anonymously threatening, but he is somehow managing to get under my skin anyway. Henceforth, ruining my mood.
The cool breeze of the evening stirs my hair and I riskily take off the mask, sighing as I feel the fresh air on my cheeks. I daringly look down at the street far below, and feel my stomach squelch as it starts to perform some routine acrobatics, causing me to instinctively lean back and away from the drop. Oh, come on. This isn't how it's supposed to work. I can fly, but yet I still have my old gut wrenching fear of heights. I cringe and force myself to look down again. Cars motor along, looking like little toys while people causally walk past, looking as small as miniature play figures. However, they don't look like ants, as many have claimed people from a height do. They must have been on illegal substances. However anybody can look like an ant, from any height, is impossible. Completely and utterly ridiculous. I might be at least ten stories up, but they still look like people.
The thought of ten stories nauseates me. Tim, just relax. You can fly, sort of, and definitely won't fall the ten stories, even if you were to fall off this building. Relax.
Maybe I just need to jump off, and prove to myself that it's not gonna kill me. Yeah, because that is such a smart idea. Knowing my luck, I'll probably get the fright of my life, after only just stopping my fall at the last metre. And then, naturally, the people on the ground will start taking pictures, saying; "Hey, look! It's that superhero that fell from the sky!" Just great. That fall yesterday was a total accident and I don't plan on repeating it. Ever. If I do, the media, being the media, will probably go as far as to call it my 'signature move'. Even better, they'll probably dub me with the superhero name 'Fall', too. It doesn't help my self-esteem in the slightest.
What should I call myself? That's an interesting question, and one I need to think on. Julia, as usual, had a point about declaring a superhero name before the media dubs me with an extremely lame and highly laughable one. Any villain I try to face will probably scream with laughter at me, just like the screams I can hear now. I'll be the...
"Wait, hold on." I mutter, wildly swinging my head around. "Screams?" I be still and listen as hard as possible, and there is it! Faint screaming. Female, by the sounds of it. Which, of course, could mean a number of different things.
1. The sudden appearance of a male celebrity.
2. Something, most likely an item of clothing, is on sale.
3. Or somebody is in danger.
Naturally, I assume the latter. Great. At least I have my suit on. I pull the mask back on. Why is it that I always just happen to be around when somebody is in danger? I have the worst luck. I literally have a bad habit of stumbling into robberies and muggings. Why do I have to be the only superhero? Damn villains!
I grumble a few times under my breath before raising myself off the ground, attempting to ignore the height and heading off in the direction that I assume the screaming is coming from. Now that I've bothered to fly out and have a good look around, somebody better actually be in danger. If this only ends up being a bunch of girls screaming as they swarm a male celebrity, I swear, I will hurt something. Probably the celebrity.
Naturally the first place I look for the screaming is in the dark alleys, because I know from my personal experience (and general bad luck) that all bay guys, petty thieves and what not, seem to have a fetish with them. It's a cliché of theirs and I don't think they'll make a habit of changing it anytime soon. The alley ways are dark and almost impossible to see into, yes, but luckily I have my trusty (or nasty, as Julia called it) x-ray vision. Using that and my natural talent for walking into dangerous situations, I manage to quickly find where the screaming is coming from.
In a dark and shadowed alley (where else) a man in a trenchcoat (really?) amusedly eyes a pair of screaming girls, who look to be my age. Feeling show-offy, I jump down from a few stories up and land beside them, scaring the life out all three.
"Hey!" yells Mr Trenchcoat and I'm pretty sure it won't take a genius to predict his next sentence. "You're that..."
"Superhero off the television. I know." I roll my eyes, while they all look at me, completely and utterly dumbfounded.
"Okay, whatever." he grumbles. "If you think these girls were screaming for any supisous reason, you're wrong. They were... ah... having a screaming contest."
"Oh?" I shake my head in confusion. "Really? Oh, then, right. I better go then..."
"No, you idiot!" yells one of the girls, a redhead. "He was gonna rape us!"
"What!" cries Mr Trenchcoat, obviously feeling outraged. "I wasn't going to do that to you, baby!" I internally groan at the word 'baby', before acting on impulse and letting my fist think for itself. It swings straight into the face of Mr Trenchcoat. It totally decks him, and he falls to the ground, unconscious, by the looks of it.
I cough nervously. That wasn't supposed to happen. "Er..." I nervously look at the ground. "Right. Mr Trenchcoat won't 'rape' you or even call you 'baby' for the next few minutes, which is plenty of time for you to run home, or scream, or whatever it was you were doing, so... yeah." I cough a few more seconds. "I'll be going now..."
I turn to walk off, not feeling in the mood for embarrassing myself by majorly failing at flying properly, but not before I hear them loudly whisper in shock to each other. "Oh my god, he is such a badass!"
I turn around before I can help myself, raising an eyebrow. "Badass? What? That was accidental. I didn't mean to..." They laugh, their voices ringing through to night. Right. Whatever.
"What's your name?" The other one, the blonde asks. I nervously eye the ground.
"Er... no."
"No?" She asks, confused. "Your name is no?"
"No, I mean I don't have one..."
"Liar!" she declares, laughing. "Do you have a name, you just don't want to tell us."
"No, seriously." I tell her, shaking my head. "I don't have a superhero name." They give me weird looks, and I nod to myself a few times, feeling embarrassed. "Er, right then. I'll be going..."
"Wait!" Calls the redhead. "Can we have photos?" Well, at least she asked me first, unlike everybody else.
"No."
"But you saved us from..."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I've fooled around enough tonight. Plus, I need to get home." I then leap into the air and fly back up to the rooftops, before any of them can respond. Urgh! I feel like mentally kicking myself! I am such a... Urgh! I grumble to myself, before flying back to my house and changing out from my suit before my mother can catch me wearing it.
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