her up. They were too scared to go to the neighbors. The San Diego outskirts were just starting to buckle at that time, having the honor of being the last major city to succumb to overcrowding and disease after the conflicts. The atmosphere in the neighborhood was growing more dangerous and less human by the day. Miss Sayi's strong, calming presence had been the only thing keeping the three of them safe.
When someone finally broke into the tiny apartment three days later, they didn't come to check on Miss Sayi or her scared and hungry foster kids. They didn't come to help. They came to loot.
Seeing the dirty men pawing through Miss Sayi's carefully maintained home was more than Nikki could bear. She'd fought back the only way she knew how at the time. She'd wailed at the top of her lungs.
When one of the men casually slapped her, she just screamed that much louder. Then he hit her again. The second blow wasn't a swat to quiet a noisy child but a full backhand with all his greater size and strength brought to bear.
That's where it all started. That was the first time Nikki had felt the tingle leave her body and the strength respond in Michael's. When one of them hit Michael, Nikki's own strength responded for the first time. That was the day—the first day she truly felt alive.
She had to get that power back. It was who she was, as much a part of her as her badly dyed hair, hand-me-down clothes, inappropriate belches of humor, and terrible attitude. Michael's description, not hers. The best way to do that, the only way, really, that she could come up with was to do what she'd done that day in Miss Sayi's living room. She had to make somebody mad enough to hit her, and then let them keep hitting her until her power decided to show itself again.
That was the selfish part.
She wasn't going to pick a fight with just anybody though. She was going to find someone more than deserving of a little knuckle justice, someone out to hurt or screw over somebody else. She was going to find a real douchebag.
That was the hero part.
A solid plan, she didn't mind saying. Michael disagreed. He had a big steamy pile of objections, most of them too boring to recall. Her favorite was the one that included the words "hell and gone from the realm of scientific plausibility, or even basic common sense." He could be a real hoot sometimes.
Nikki waited for a minute to see if Michael would jump in, but it was a pointless wait, she knew. He'd faded back to—wherever. She was alone again, for now.
She stared at the nightclub in silence for a while, watching people come and go, trying her best to be OK with the solitude.
That went pretty much like she thought it would. She quickly found herself questioning her plan. She found herself thinking maybe Michael was right. Maybe she should try something a little less risky. But that just wasn't her style, and the whole point was to get back to who she'd been before, not to do things even further outside her comfort zone.
Without thinking, she started to pull her knees up against her chest, but the narrow ledge and her center of gravity got in a pushing match that nearly sent her tumbling forward off the roof. She slapped her hands back down and caught herself, but her strained shoulder paid the price.
Nikki grunted at the pain and ground her teeth to keep in the string of curses she so wanted to unravel. Being normal sucked. No two ways about it.
She spun on her aggravated butt to swing her legs onto the roof and stood up to stretch, letting out a long grumbly groan as she did so.
Does this mean you're going back to the transport? Michael said.
"I thought you'd left."
I'm not going anywhere, Nikki. Except maybe back to the transport, I hope.
That was pretty wishful thinking on his part, but Nikki wasn't about to give Michael another reason to criticize the night's activities. She'd left Coop loading up supplies on his own nearly two hours ago, something the man had to be getting
When someone finally broke into the tiny apartment three days later, they didn't come to check on Miss Sayi or her scared and hungry foster kids. They didn't come to help. They came to loot.
Seeing the dirty men pawing through Miss Sayi's carefully maintained home was more than Nikki could bear. She'd fought back the only way she knew how at the time. She'd wailed at the top of her lungs.
When one of the men casually slapped her, she just screamed that much louder. Then he hit her again. The second blow wasn't a swat to quiet a noisy child but a full backhand with all his greater size and strength brought to bear.
That's where it all started. That was the first time Nikki had felt the tingle leave her body and the strength respond in Michael's. When one of them hit Michael, Nikki's own strength responded for the first time. That was the day—the first day she truly felt alive.
She had to get that power back. It was who she was, as much a part of her as her badly dyed hair, hand-me-down clothes, inappropriate belches of humor, and terrible attitude. Michael's description, not hers. The best way to do that, the only way, really, that she could come up with was to do what she'd done that day in Miss Sayi's living room. She had to make somebody mad enough to hit her, and then let them keep hitting her until her power decided to show itself again.
That was the selfish part.
She wasn't going to pick a fight with just anybody though. She was going to find someone more than deserving of a little knuckle justice, someone out to hurt or screw over somebody else. She was going to find a real douchebag.
That was the hero part.
A solid plan, she didn't mind saying. Michael disagreed. He had a big steamy pile of objections, most of them too boring to recall. Her favorite was the one that included the words "hell and gone from the realm of scientific plausibility, or even basic common sense." He could be a real hoot sometimes.
Nikki waited for a minute to see if Michael would jump in, but it was a pointless wait, she knew. He'd faded back to—wherever. She was alone again, for now.
She stared at the nightclub in silence for a while, watching people come and go, trying her best to be OK with the solitude.
That went pretty much like she thought it would. She quickly found herself questioning her plan. She found herself thinking maybe Michael was right. Maybe she should try something a little less risky. But that just wasn't her style, and the whole point was to get back to who she'd been before, not to do things even further outside her comfort zone.
Without thinking, she started to pull her knees up against her chest, but the narrow ledge and her center of gravity got in a pushing match that nearly sent her tumbling forward off the roof. She slapped her hands back down and caught herself, but her strained shoulder paid the price.
Nikki grunted at the pain and ground her teeth to keep in the string of curses she so wanted to unravel. Being normal sucked. No two ways about it.
She spun on her aggravated butt to swing her legs onto the roof and stood up to stretch, letting out a long grumbly groan as she did so.
Does this mean you're going back to the transport? Michael said.
"I thought you'd left."
I'm not going anywhere, Nikki. Except maybe back to the transport, I hope.
That was pretty wishful thinking on his part, but Nikki wasn't about to give Michael another reason to criticize the night's activities. She'd left Coop loading up supplies on his own nearly two hours ago, something the man had to be getting
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