f i g h t m e

With a hood pulled up over their head, the dark haired vampire dug through the shelves, thin fingers itching to stuff at least one of these items into their pockets. They were resisting though, the last thing they needed was to call attention to themselves. To add another arrest to their record just because they couldn’t seem to keep their compulsions under control. 

A small, frustrated sigh escaped as they pulled a particularly battered copy of a game they’d been looking for out of the mess of cases. Was this place seriously expecting Saeran to drop 60 dollars on this? 

“Fucking bullshit,” The mumbled from behind the dark surgical mask that he become their brand by this point. 

“Is this really the only copy?” the game was quickly tucked under their arm as they continued their search, this time all but tossing various cases out of their way out of pure agitation. 

Sara needed a new hobby. Her sister hated her more than ever and she doubted that her single drinking buddy would ever want to see her stupid face again after what she did. And, in all honesty, Sara couldn’t blame her. She could only fill up so much space in the day with sleeping, drinking, and working. Her body ached too much these days to go to the gym, but she needed something, anything, to conceal the contrasting thoughts her mind attempted to grapple with.

So she turned to copies of video games, the first mind-numbing hobby she could think of. Sara didn’t have her own system, but a computer would have to do. Her hands prowled various titles on the shelves, genuinely unsure of which of the more cheaper games would dull her head for the longest amount of time possible. Her eyes only looked up from their browsing as a mumbled exclamation passed through the surgical mask from the person down the row from her.

“Bullshit is right,” Sara agreed. She hadn’t realized that any of the more interesting games would be so damn expensive. Why would she pay fifty bucks -- or more -- for something she didn’t even know she’d enjoy? “Must be a popular game or something,” She continued with a shrug as she watched them toss various game cases aside. “But why the hell are you trying to find a second copy? Is buying one not good enough?”

                                                                         i’m the problem                                                 and there’s NOTHING i can do about it

                                                          a sara xiao playlist; side a

His arms tightened around his frame, his body feeling stiff with tension. His teeth sank into his lip as he stared down and felt like a complete idiot. Hoseok quickly shook his head when the stranger asked if he was crying – he wasn’t. Not really. Not yet. Perhaps he would have been if his anxiety and insecurity allowed him to show any kind of emotion on his generally stoic features. The only indication of his discomfort was his rigid stance and absence of words, another apology caught in his throat.

At the command to move away from the street, however, he was quick to comply; forcing his legs to walk him over to a safer spot on the sidewalk. “I’m… f-fi-fi-fine.” He barely managed above a whisper, whilst subtly trying to take deep breaths through his nose. God, he just wanted to go home. It was moments like these where he wished he could be more assertive and tell people to mind their own business, or brush his clumsiness off like it was nothing. Instead, he just stood there, shaking and sweating, attempting to keep himself together just enough to hold on to some of his dignity. “T-Thank you.”

“Oh my god...” Sara muttered as she watched the stiff kid stepped back onto the safety of the sidewalk. God, how had he managed to get out of his house without stumbling down the stairs? And was he sweating? Sara couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. She didn’t think she actually wanted to know. “Okay you also don’t need to thank me for telling you to get out of the street. That should be like, common sense to not stand there and let yourself get hit by a car,” She scowled and shook her head. “Next time, watch where you’re walking, because you could’ve gotten hit. Too many people in this city don’t watch where they’re fucking driving. Why don’t you get yourself some water? It’s hot as hell out and I swear I can see you sweating.”

At the response, Iris felt a little disheartened. But she had already engaged, it was the true curse of her curious nature. Her small smile returned as she steadied, and her hands interlocked atop her stomach. Iris has the soul, and the posture, of an elderly lady. “I personally like to people watch. I could pretend to read, but I’m secretly watching everyone. Sorry, it was just an observation.” 

Iris was relieved when the stranger gave in. She began to worry if she had overstepped a boundary. Her eyes scanned the page briefly, absorbing lingo she did not understand and images of bloody noses. Iris’ mouth became an ‘o’. Head tilted, the question came freely. “Do you box? Or do you just spectate?” 

Sara shrugged. There’d been a time when she, too, had enjoyed people watching, but now that she’d been trained to look for suspicious people, sneaky eyes or fists clenched preparing to fight, people watching didn’t quite have the same effect on her anymore. “Yeah, well, maybe you should keep your eyes on your book next time,” Sara scoffed.

She didn’t have any reason to be curt and rude, but at this point, the habits had become second nature to her, even though they were on a topic Sara genuinely enjoyed. “...I do,” She nodded, debating if the other woman even cared or had just decided to make annoyingly polite conversation. “Not professionally, or for any titles. An occasional local chapter, if I need some pocket change at the end of the month.”

there was a simple answer to the other’s question ––and if it were rhetorical along with the first one, she hadn’t a care in the world. her annoyed response was simple even in a bustling street.  “Yes.” in fact, she would suggest that the other would use her inside voice. her complaints were trivial. what was so hard in being considerate to others? what was so hard in understanding that even in a street, there should be levels in the decibels for which one’s voice could carry. 

“So do that.” though, the advice wasn’t at all effective, nor would it be, there was still the problem of pay-per-view. “Waste your money on one measley fight and issue your complaints to the device in your hand.” the many conformists of The Twitter© would love to offer their opinions, on the matter. “If you don’t like the looks you receive on the street, there may be  something to look to more introspectively. But what do I know, I only speak in inside voices.”

Sara rolled her eyes. “Well, in case you didn’t notice, we’re not inside. And unless I was screaming at the top of my lungs and disturbing the peace, which I wasn’t, so I don’t understand why you have a problem,” She retorted. What exactly was this lady’s problem? So she got a little loud. They were outside. countless other people were around who were, undoubtedly, louder than her.

“What, am I only supposed to look at my phone from my house too?” She challenged. “Sorry we don’t all use our inside voices all the time. You know, a lot of us aren’t five-years-old anymore. We can talk loudly if we want to.”

“Your aura radiates anger,” Eisa calmly repeated, a careful smile pulling at her lips. She was no stranger to angering people more with her babbling about candles, cards or crystals, but the voices encouraged her to keep speaking her mind. At least about those things. There were plenty of secrets she had to keep to herself. Secrets of the universe. “Do you want to talk about it?” She then asked with a slight tilt of her head, still awkwardly holding out the small token.

Sara found herself glaring at the strange girl before her. Did she know what she was actually talking about -- or was she some weirdo that spent too much time online? “No,” She ultimately scowled. “I don’t want to talk about it. What good is that supposed to do?” She rolled her eyes. “I’m dealing with it. Besides, I wouldn’t talk about it with someone I just met, anyway.”

His tongue, curled against the back of his teeth, clicked at the audacity. Donnie was tired of not being able to just vibe with members of the division, and the ice in which Sara exuded towards him made Donnie anxious. Fitting in here was not going too well, and this conversation right here proved it. Proving himself was becoming hard work, and at this rate, he was willing to do ANYTHING to show that he is capable. “I was just being hypothetical, Jesus.”

Donnie’s spine straightened immediately when Sara decided to entertain him. He fought back that shark-like grin, a mouth too full of teeth, that would display his excitement. Donnie’s palms rubbed together under the desk.  “Nice!” He paused. “Well, not nice. Must’ve sucked for you. Would have made a good episode of one of those cop shows, though.” The wheels of the chair scraped across the linoleum as he slid forward. “Don’t back out on me now. What sort of drugs did you find? Was it a little hobby farm or was it an all-out Escobar situation?”

Sara shrugged. “Fine. Whatever. But you’re gonna have to show that you can still manage your fifty-pound luggage tossing while in the middle of the street with other spectators who just might try and prevent you from tossing that luggage in the first place,” She continued. “Besides, intern, it’s not up to me to decide any of that. I just do what I’m told. If you want to suck up to someone, it’ll have to be the supervisor.”

Though, Sara did understand Donnie’s frustration and impatience. Office work had to be her least favorite part of the job, however important it may be. At least there were a few moments of action that would make up for it. “Best way to feel like you’re alive is almost getting stabbed or shot. I’m sure it would’ve hurt like hell, but I could’ve gotten a cool souvenir out of it,” She snickered. “Does it matter what kind of drug it was? I think it must’ve been coke. A different task force dealt with taking all that stuff out. I just assisted with the arrests.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened when the laugh reached his ears, body stiffening as realization hit him. He had just fallen on his ass, in the middle of the street, where people had seen it happen. His face instantly turned a shade that closely resembled his newly dyed hair and he carefully scrambled to get up and wipe his hands on his trousers. It was hard to concentrate on anything but the pounding of his heart rushing in his ears and blurring his vision, his irregular breathing making him dizzy.

The boy stumbled a little as he tried to keep his balance, despite the heavy effects his anxiety was having on his body – the nausea, the dizziness, the struggle to breathe. “S-S-S-Sorry.” He eventually managed, voice barely audible as he averted his eyes and ducked his head in an attempt to hide his fiery hot cheeks. Hoseok could feel the beginning of tears burning in his eyes and he instinctively wrapped his arms around himself, both to keep himself together (figuratively, anyway) and to stop himself from scratching at his skin.

“...Why are you apologizing to me?” Sara questioned as she watched the boy stand up and brush his hands off. “It’s not like you pushed me into the street or anything like that,” She rolled her eyes. She didn’t understand why some people felt the need o apologize for nearly everything, especially when it clearly wasn’t their fault.

“And are you...crying?” Sara asked as he seemed to hide his face. “Jesus Christ...” She muttered under her breath. “Don’t tell me you broke your hand or something. Get out of the damn street before someone gets too impatient and hits you with their car.”

she had a headache. she was trying to sit in peace. she was trying to get rid of the voices in her head, not add to them. she was supposed to be finding peace in the bustling of the city, but the other wouldn’t stop talking. and about what? Lis had no clue. something about middleweights and titles and it made no sense to her until she looked up at the girl who was telling her to mind her own business.

“I’m sorry but you’re talking too loud. Please be mindful.” 

offering a suggestion to the problem, however, could help more than a judgment of character. “–wouldn’t a bar seem most fit for a viewing party of such organized violence? Or is it because she’s a woman, no one cares to show it?” 

“Excuse me? I’m talking too loud? Do you want me to use my inside voice?” Sara asked, never one to take advice from others or be quiet. She was outside, in a public street. It wasn’t like she decided to scream at the top of her lungs or they were in the library; Sara failed to see why she couldn’t be as loud as she wanted.

“All sports bars want to show is football, soccer, and basketball games. There’s a few that have baseball or racing, but not as many that show off boxing. Besides, I’d rather watch in the comfort of my own house. That way I don’t have to deal with people like you giving me looks like that if I get a little loud.”

“But that’s the thing—you don’t know,” said Abigail. “You’re saying that this is preemptive, but you haven’t done your due diligence in establishing whether he actually is a threat. What happens if his power is harmless? Do you let him walk free? Have you put him through all of this—” she gestured between them “—for nothing?”

She watched her sister’s face, hoping for the flicker of understanding; but if any of Abigail’s words were sinking in, Sara’s expression didn’t betray her. I don’t even know her anymore, Abigail thought; and struck by that sudden, sinking realization, she tore her gaze away. This was her sister, who Abigail had always quietly hoped to be close to, but whose childish antics had made that near impossible. Her sister, who now toed the point of no return… How could Abigail forgive her now?

Her mind reeled. “No. Sara, I’m not forgetting that–that pathetic excuse. You don’t get to say that you’re doing this because of me. You don’t get to pretend that arresting innocent people is a form of repentance—because it’s not.” She sucked in a breath. “You say that you’re stopping a problem before it starts—but I don’t think you actually, truly understand: they are not the problem here. You are. Take some responsibility.”

“Well --” Sara began to reply. But in reality, what happened to mutants after she arrested them wasn’t part of her job. She brought them in. Filed her report. Moved onto the next person to bring in. “-- He’s a criminal, Abigail,” Sara insisted instead. “If I’d taken a few steps further, he would’ve melted my face. Are those the sort of people you want running around the city? Dangerous people with dangerous powers that are going unchecked?”

Had she come across anyone else, Sara would have ignored them. Because screw their opinion and what they wanted. But this was Abigail, who knew every bad thing Sara had done and stuck with her regardless until she pushed too much and drove Abigail over the edge. And now, even four years later, Abigail still seemed to offer a hand as Sara stood in a deep hole of her own creation. 

As much as she wanted to, Sara couldn’t seem to ignore Abigail’s words. “I’m...I’m fucking trying to take responsibility,” She insisted. “Why can’t you understand? All my life, I’ve been the one to start shit. I don’t need anyone to tell me that. There’s too much that I can’t undo...but at least this way, I can fix something before it even starts. A lot of these people are dangerous, Abigail. What gives them the right to go around the city with...with those abilities? What’s stopping them from using them from robbing a bank? Or kidnapping someone?” She asked. “I’m...I’m trying to help people. To help you.”

Her parents had always told her that her curiosity and lack of a filter would get her in trouble one day. And though she hadn’t really meant to be nosy and eavesdrop on the woman’s phone call, her wide eyes gave away that she had been. Once Eisa was called out, she could feel a faint blush rise to her cheeks and she chewed on her bottom lip, her hand automatically wrapping around one of the crystals around her neck. “Your aura radiates anger,” She finally replied, her mouth curling up into a careful smile as she reached into the pockets of her long floral skirt. Once she pulled out her hand again, she offered the contents of her open palm – a small piece of apple wood with a rune symbol burnt onto it. “This will help against any negative energies.”

“...My what radiates what now?” Sara questioned. She’d heard of auras and spirits and vibes before, but she didn’t believe in any of that -- nor was it every day that someone approached her and said that, either. Sara then glanced down as the other procured a piece of wood with carvings in it, but Sara shook her head at the offer. “My whole life is a negative energy, so I think if I touched that, I’d probably turn into dust on the spot.”

“Oh, nothing… I,” Iris’ eyes were wide, but she smoothed her expression by offering a smile. “You just seemed like you were in a world of your own.” 

Iris did not understand the references that were made (she never was one for sports, after all) but she was envious of that sort of passion. Iris found enough fulfilment in her powers, and in her career, but something was always missing. Maybe she needed a hobby. “So what was it you were reading?” Iris stepped forward, intending to peer at the device, only for her boot to catch a wayward lace and stumble instead.

Sara raised a brow. “Uh, yeah I was in a world of my own. Why should I stand here and pay attention to what everyone else is doing?” She asked. Back in her days as a cop, a question like that could’ve gotten her in deep shit. She was supposed to be observant, to keep an eye on the city. But when she was off duty, she couldn’t care less about what else could be going on around her.

For a moment, Sara considered pulling her phone away, because what’s on her phone is no one’s business but her own. Yet, she ultimately decides to relent. She holds out her phone slightly for the other to see. “Articles about the Undisputed Worldwide Lightweight Champion. Katie Taylor. It’s a boxing thing.”

She doesn’t look up from her phone until she realized her shouting and grumbling brought a bit of attention to herself. “What are you looking at? Mind your own business.”

Though his newly cherry red dyed hair glowed vibrantly in the sun, the young male’s features were riddled with anxiety as he tried to quickly push himself through crowds of people. Being outside was a task in itself, but now there was the added hyper awareness that he stood out with his brightly colored hair in contrast to his fully black attire. Every glance felt more like a judgmental stare than usual and Hoseok could already feel his palms getting sweaty, which wasn’t just because he was dressed entirely too warmly for the current weather.

He was trying to follow his friends’ advice and focus on the normal things in his life. Gaming, watching movies, playing with his cat, eating pizza. They were the standard things – with the added ‘getting drunk and letting his friends talk him into dyeing his hair’ – but they were so much nicer to focus on than all the chaos and disturbances he’d been encountering over the past few weeks. And aside from the slight headache and the paranoia about his hair, he actually felt quite good. Well, until he stopped and crouched down to retie his shoelace and immediately lost his balance, unceremoniously making him land on his ass in the middle of the street.

“Fuck.”

Sara didn’t know how people could regularly get through their day without coffee. She’d have a cup while she got ready in the morning, a second as she left her apartment, which she would then finish and pick up a third just before work. On occasion, she’d take a fourth in the middle of the day if the opportunity arose. Which, on this particular day, it hadn’t. As such, she grabbed her fourth mug of coffee on her way home from work. She left the coffeehouse just in time to see some kid (okay, he could only be a few years younger than her. But still. A kid) fall into the street as he attempted to...something with his shoe or the hem of his pants.

Where others may have lept into action and offered a hand of help, Sara tossed her head back with rude laughter. “Hah! Maybe you should’ve watched what you were doing. You know, sometimes I just launch myself in the street like too. Sitting on the dirty ground with a bunch of smelly cars? Definitely one of my top ten hobbies.”

“Stupid bitch, look what you did to my car.” Not the sweetest or warmest welcome a gal could ask for after a short stint in North Africa, but Mai supposes that’s just what she gets for cutting some ass-wipe off with her beaut only to have him drive straight into a fire hydrant in an attempt to return the favour. In all fairness, she should have just sped along. It isn’t her fucking fault and she doesn’t really want to run into any cops first thing either. At least not before getting home and having her aunt’s meat loaf.

It’s with a groan that she disembarks from her motorcycle, reaching up to pull off her helmet. The Moroccan sun had been kind to her skin, returning some of the usual soft, honeyed glow that had been siphoned out over the winter months. She looks pretty relaxed, she figures, for a fugitive from justice or…whatever. Whatever mutants like her now were.

She steps toward the person in question, pulling off one of her gloves with her teeth so she could push a hand through her pocket and grab her card. “Here,” She mumbles through the leather, tucking it behind the person’s ear. She then replaces her glove onto her hand. “I’ll take care of the costs, so maybe next time you want to get behind a wheel, don’t. Happy Wednesday, pendejo.”

With that, she turns away, her brown eyes meeting a different set of hues, and something of an acknowledging smile gracing her lips. “They just give licenses out to everybody these days, huh?” She tapped at the frame of her sunglasses before sliding them back on.

Perhaps they were left over from her days as a cop, but Sara occasionally enjoyed sitting outside, watching cars hurry past, and attempt to guess their speed. Not having a RADAR clock anymore made the game more challenging. But as she loitered outside of a building, she did have some fun counting all the cars that, at one time, she would’ve pulled over.

For the time being, Sara is off the clock with her equipment and other gear that would usually be used to identify her as a Dove stored away, and she’s grateful for the chance to let her skin breath without the added equipment. She nearly decided to abandon her post for another view around the city when she spotted a motorcycle and another vehicle get into quite the accident. She wouldn’t be surprised if, before long, a few cops showed up to handle the altercation. But, as she looked on, the pair seem to solve the issue themselves.

Or, at least, the girl seems to solve the problem. She can’t get a read on the other person’s reaction because the girl turns her way to complain.

“I think my driver’s test was one of the easiest things I did. I probably could’ve run a red light and I don’t think my instructor would’ve noticed,” Sara agreed. “I haven’t even been standing here that long and I saw at least five or six cars that probably should’ve been pulled over.”