sundered veil superheroes – Kenzie Leong's Creations

Hero Worship (4/4)

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel real, you know?” said Chris. “It’s almost over. In just a few weeks we won’t be kids anymore. We’ll be on to the next stage of our lives.”

“Chris, if you don’t shut up and study, you’ll get to enjoy this stage for a little longer,” Robby said flatly, then ducked the pencil Chris threw at him. He threw it back, only for Chris to catch it.

Isabelle laughed, shifting to lay her head on a softer part of Chris’s thigh. The southeast hallway past the computer labs was carpeted, but the carpet was thin, and Chris was happy to be a cushion for his girlfriend. “You’ll be fine,” she assured him. “I’ve seen your grades. You’re good enough that you could probably just not show up for finals and still graduate.”

“I’m not gonna push my luck.” Chris twirled his pencil in one of Isabelle’s fiery curls. “What about you?”

Hero Worship (3/4)

He probably could have given Hazard and Howler his real phone number—they were heroes, and he trusted them not to take advantage—but he went out and bought a burner because it seemed like the thing to do when you were a secret superhero.

He spent the rest of the day checking it, giddy and hopeful.

He had Hazard’s number.

The thought was ridiculous, but Chris reveled in it anyway. Hey, anything was possible. This wasn’t high school and he didn’t have to worry about anyone’s judgment. A guy could dream.

Hero Worship (2/4)

“Little tame for you, isn’t it?” said Chris. “No offense.”

Talking in this form had taken some getting used to. Considering that his face was in a completely different shape from how it usually was, he was lucky he could talk at all. The tongue got in the way sometimes, or cut itself on his teeth on certain consonants. But it was worth it for the gravely bass that puberty alone had never given him.

The three of them had retreated to the rooftop of an apartment building. Night was falling, and no one had noticed them scaling the fire escapes for some privacy. Howler was on alert, standing watch for anyone and anything that might disturb them. Hazard, on the other hand, sat near Chris on the low outer wall, airgun propped against his shoulder.

“You call armed robbery ‘tame’?” Hazard sounded amused. Friendly. Chris could feel his tail trying to wag again.

Hero Worship (1/4)

Two months after the accident, Chris quit his job and moved six hours away to San Francisco.

It had taken two weeks to recover physically, four days for the changes to manifest, another week of experimenting to fully map out the extent of them, and the remaining month-and-change to practice making them happen when he wanted and not happen when he didn’t.

It had taken a morning to pack everything he cared about from his shitty little studio apartment into his car, an afternoon to cart the rest to the nearest Goodwill, and the rest of the day to kiss LA traffic goodbye. He’d held up his middle finger out the window for good measure, as the I-5 took him up through Santa Clarita and beyond.

It’s All About Presentation

The employees of J.D. Barrett and Co. Fine Jewelry realized quickly that they were in for an interesting afternoon—first when Britney Spears’ “Toxic” began blasting over the store’s speakers at a higher volume than they’d ever achieved before, second when every light went out and came back on in a riot of different colors, and finally when Latchkey burst in from the secure backroom with a flourish and began absolutely throwing ass.

Between the bass-boosted music, the flashing lights, the vigorously gyrating supervillain, and the incapacitated security guards, there wasn’t much anyone could do but take cover, maybe pull out their phones, and watch as the store was thoroughly and enthusiastically robbed.