|The OFIBTY Wiki Superheroes Fanfic|
This fanfic is set in New York City.
Introduction: Another WorldEdit
Tom sat at the burnished desk, scribbling sketchy drawings in his notebook, paying no attention to what he was supposed to be learning. The teacher's voice was a constant, irritating drone; an insect hanging round the air, desperate to distract him from his haze. The first lesson was the most boring, and Tom had been forced to take it.
Trails of ink stained the lined page as the irregular doodles began to take shape. Not even the teacher dishing out test papers interrupted him, or her harsh tone as she cruelly reprimanded a fellow student.
"Tom, shut that book!" The dark silhouette of his strict, stern teacher appeared at the side of his desk, dressed in what looked like Victorian-era clothing, half-moon glasses balancing on the bridge of her pointed nose. Her wispy hair was pulled up in a tight bun on the top of her scalp; wrinkles adorned her sagged, drooping face and her voice spoke raspy and chesty. "Turn to page thirty-six in your research book, like the rest of the class." She shot him a dagger look then strided to the front of the class, hand curled as if a cane sat in her palm.
Three knocks smacked against the ancient, splintering door, instantly attracting everyone's attention, even his. The teacher glanced over at the door, and a fake smile broke out on her dry lips. Her hand twisted the ice-cold door handle and it took three pushes to finally yank the door open.
The moment the door swung, Tom instantly felt sick. His hands found his stomach as the sudden feeling of nausea invaded his immune system, and it took an extraordinary amount of effort for him to not throw up right there in the middle of class. His eyes flickered towards the figure emerging through the doorway.
She was about thirteen, obviously a new student. Long brown locks cascaded down her slim face, and she had the most piercing green eyes this side of the country. As she made her way to the desk at the back, those green eyes stayed locked upon him, even when she was snuggled down in the wonky seat.
"Begin the test!" The teacher called. Tom opened his paper, but the words were fuzzy. And just as he was about to place the lead upon the parchment, the pencil seemingly tugged free from his hand and whizzed across the room, spiralling crazily, and collided with a pile of books resting on the workbench, scattering them like confetti.
He looked back at the new girl, and she was still looking at him, a wicked smile adorning her lips.
Delilah sat by the colossal glass wall of her apartment, legs swung up on her desk, watching the hundreds of people walk the streets of New York City. Some were strolling, fancy mobile phone pressed against their ears; some were dashing madly, weaving through the cluster, constantly glancing at their watches; some were relaxing on a bench, tucking into a hotdog or a burger. Her eyes flickered an immaculate shade of emerald as she spied a young male and what she suspected to be his gorgeous girlfriend nestling on a park bench, cuddled up, looking all romantic.
She concentrated on the young male, emotions flicking through her mind, deciding which one she should experiment with. Her eyes now all-dialated pupil, she watched as the young male immediately pulled away from the girl and stormed off along the old streets, leaving the girl confused.
Delilah smiled her wicked smile and turned to face her beautifully-decorated apartment. The phone lay on the workbench, and she enclapsed her fingers around the machine then punched in a number.
She brought the receiver to her ear as the ringing droned on and on. Finally it stopped as someone picked up the other end.
"Lady Marmalade? It worked. I'll see you tomorrow."
Emmett stood in the center of a busy New York street, camera slung round his slim neck, notebook and pen whipped out, scribbling down happenings of the daily life. There wasn't much going on compared to yesterday - a gargantuan fire spread across the state, swallowing forests and buildings and people whole. He adjusted his flat cap to fit his head and began scrawling again, his hand-writing jagged and untidy.
His eyes scanned the apartment windows, searching for any life, when he caught sight of a figure staring out the window. She had electric blue curls, and beryl eyes which flickered like stars; she looked rather beautiful. He kept looking at her, seemingly infatuated, when he caught a glimpse of her returning the stare.
The moment he met eyes with her, a peculiar feeling stirred in the pit of his stomach. He watched as her twinkling eyes slowly... gradually lost the color of green, and it was only a few seconds before the whites of her eyes were replaced by pitch black.
"Holy sh..." he muttered, and immediately turned his back, the feeling in his stomach rising to full-blown nasuea. He knew this feeling, it was familiar - the ringing in his ears, the sickness, the dizziness. Somebody evil was round , and he had a fair idea who it was.
He glanced back at the window, and the space where she stood was empty once again.
"Lady Marmalade? It worked. I'll see you tomorrow." Sam's cherry red lips spread into a wide smile as she clicked the 'end call' button on the mobile and gently placed it on the workbench. She grabbed the television remote and pressed the power button, and a romance film engulfed the blank screen in movement; she liked romance films, they calmed her.
Things were boring without Lady Lust around, or Delilah, as she was known. The two were the Ladies of Manipulation, the terrible two, the dangerous duo; they could kill easily when their powers combined.
The sound of blaring car horns drowned out the soft music of the movie as the rush of New York City sped outside her apartment. Sam rolled her eyes in disgust, annoyed, when she heard three silence-breaking knocks on the burnished door.
"Come in!" she called, expecting it to be her partner in crime. The door opened, and it wasn't Delilah. A young man stumbled in, tripping over his untied shoelaces, spreading mud from his trainers across the freshly-cleaned carpet. He looked terribly bedraggled - his brunette hair laced with dandruff and lice, dirt soiling his pale face, clothes ridden with various bugs and holes.
"Ah, it's you." Sam stood from the sofa and slithered over to the boy seductively. "I've been waiting for you." The boy clearly looked intimidated, yet he didn't dare recoil from the beauty who stood before him; Sam slithered closer, biting her lip. This was a boy she'd picked off the streets, a homeless idiot, a thick-skulled teenager - an easy target.
She took a step back, the bright sun turning her figure to a slim silhouette. Her lips parted, and, out of nowhere, a high, piercing note erupted from her mouth. It slid higher, clear as a chiming bell, in perfect tune with the opera singers. It grew even higher, still clear and perfect. The wine glass sitting on the desk suddenly shattered into hundreds of sharp pieces. She looked back at the boy - he was as white as a sheet, his eyes turned bloodshot and dry, his skin grew from plush to parchment.
There was a loud thud as the boy's limp body fell to the floor. Sam grinned and knelt down by his body, and turned her cheek to his mouth - he was still breathing, signalling that he was only unconscious. That wicked, scary grin adorned her lips again, and she disappeared into the kitchen. She returned with the sharp, thick blade of a meat knife enclasped in her palm.
In a swift and brisk moment, the blade plunged down into the boy's chest. Blood spurted everywhere, staining the furniture, ruining the carpet. The boy coughed and spluttered seas of hot blood as the life slowly, gradually escaped his still body. "One hero down, god knows how many left to go," she muttered as she dropped the knife and snuggled back into the sofa, watching the film as it reached the end.
The loud, constant buzz of the corridor was unfamiliar to Ellie, yet she swallowed the lump in her throat and carried on strolling. The students walked in clumps, so a path to her locker was easy to follow; her shoes slipped across the freshly-polished floor, and the various students attempting to trip her up didn't really help her balance.
She reached her locker after slipping past a group of skinny girls in mini-skirts and thigh-highs, and shrugged her school bag from her shoulder. A quick glance either side showed that no attention was being paid to her, so she diverted her eyes to the complicated lock in front of her. Concentration washed her mind, and a clear image of the lock twisting formed in her head. Then, before her very eyes, the lock performed the act she had imagined. It opened by itself, dropped and fell into Ellie's cupped fingers. She grinned. Telekinesis could be so fun at times.
She flung the locker door open and scanned its contents for her history book, when she felt a weird sensation in the very pit of her stomach. It grew and grew, and soon her hands found her stomach and she clutched it, forcing back a gasp.
Her head turned and, a couple lockers down from her, stood the boy from the class today. The good guy. The one whose pencil she'd sent flying across the room. The hero. He was also glancing at her, curiousity clouding his eyes, knowing what she was.
Ellie knew she had to kill him. And she was going to.
The locker door slammed shut the second she imagined it shutting, and she slung her bag over her shoulder and carried on down the crowded hallway.
Joey slipped through the busy streets, the worst feeling languishing in the depths of his stomach, shivering in the harsh whistles of the wind. He could tell another hero was around, yet good or bad he had yet to discover; as another burst of pain slammed his abdomen, he managed to prevent himself from doubling over in the midst of the midday rush-hour. Where was this hero? Were they evil? He was in agony - they could take him over any minute now.
"Excuse me, sir," a gentle hand patted his square shoulder and he swung round, trying to remove all traces of pain from his eyes. The man was tall, dressed in rough clothes, a hat placed on his hair-covered head. In his palm sat a Biro and a ripped notepad, covering in scribbles and doodles and fancy words. "Would you like to buy a newspaper?" Joey nodded curtly, and it was only when he placed his hand upon the newspaper, the nasuea reached a climax, and Joey ran from the journalist. He caught sight of a gutter, and he couldn't stop himself violently throwing up, the contents of his stomach pouring out of his mouth. As the people flooded by, he heard several tsking and muttering speeches like "That's what happens when you get drunk!" and "It's too early to be sloshed!".
"Are you alright?" he heard the voice of the journalist behind him. Joey wiped his mouth and stood, breathing in deeply, grateful that the nausea fading. It was only when he neared to the newspaper salesman that the feeling resurrected itself.
"You. You're one of them. You're one of me." He muttered, the realization hitting him like a train on a track. The boy's face fell and he went ashen; he ran away as quick as a wink, yet even Joey saw the curt nod he gave before he ran.
Joey sighed, disappointed, and looked around in question of his next actions.
Day 1 - 3rd December 2012Edit
Three swift knocks broke the silence in her flat. Delilah rose from her desk and stumbled over towards the door, her heels clicking on the burnished floor, hand outstretched for the doorknob. She twisted it, and flung it open, her eyes already all-dialited pupil for defence. Sam stood in front of her, eyebrow raised, adorned in the violet dress Delilah had bought her as an early Christmas present and thick black leggings. Her heels were tall and looked like they were going to snap any second. Her hair was scraped up into a high ponytail, pinned with elaborate star and butterfly clips.
"I brought a friend," Sam hissed and strided in, perfectly balanced on the heels. After her, in walked a young teenage girl; she looked like Sam a little, yet her hair was dyed platinum blonde, and she was wearing a skimpy nightie-like dress, despite the fact that winter snow fell every day.
"So, why did you bring me here?" the girl demanded, stamping her foot. Sam and Delilah exchanged glances, and Delilah turned to face the girl. The iris of her eyes shrunk as the dark pupil expanded, and soon her eyes were black as pitch.
The girl blinked as her face fell pale, and suddenly she stood up sharp, eyes widened. "Hey, I was looking for my friend, so you know him?" the girl crept forward to Sam, her limbs stiff as if they were wood, eyes large and unresponsive.
She outstretched her arms around Sam, getting nearer and nearer with every step, yet a sudden jerk and she immediately recoiled. The girl stumbled back, clutching her stomach, and when she removed her hands from her abdomen, blood lazily oozed from the wound that grew. Sam looked down at the meat knife enclapsed in her palm, and her own hand caked in thick redness, and grinned wickedly. The girl fell, now lifeless, a dead body upon the carpet.
"She was telepathic," explained Sam. "And good. One hero down, god knows how many left to go."