I slumped onto the couch, surveying my handiwork. Finally everything was unpacked and the apartment was fairly put together. Moving had been exhausting, but at least the work had kept my mind occupied and away from thinking about…what had happened. Three months. Three months since the accident, and it was time to move on. That was why I was here in West Port to begin with.
My stomach interrupted my train of thought with a loud grumble and I groaned. I hadn’t had time to stock the fridge. Fine.
A few minutes later I was out on the streets, trying to navigate my way through the labyrinth that was the streets of West Port. It was a lot later than I had thought, and I realized too late that I had left my phone, and therefore my GPS, back on my kitchen counter. This is way more complicated than it needs to be, I thought after the fifth wrong turn. I was nowhere near the center of the town, and this part of town was more than shady. Windows were boarded, and I passed several possibly clandestine meetings in alleyways that looked like every type of stereotype of dark alleyways melded together.
I should probably turn around. But I didn’t. Why did it matter, really? I walked past a group of men having a quiet conversation which they abruptly stopped as soon as I was in earshot. I stiffened a bit but kept on walking. There were footsteps behind me. My fingers went to my wrist, subconsciously checking to make sure I had my bracelet on. These men were going to be in for a surprise if they thought I was going to be an easy target. There has to be a water source around here somewhere…
Before I could do anything, I heard surprised shouts from behind me and heat rushed over the back of my body. I spun around, jumping back as I saw a wall of flame that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere between myself and my pursuers. What the hell?! I kept on searching for nearby water, but the bracelet seemed to be malfunctioning. Damn prototype.
“Leave unless you feel like being barbequed,” a voice came from the other side of the fire. There was some incomprehensible shouting and then no sound at all. The flames lowered and finally disappeared, and I saw that the men had gone. In their place stood a woman in what looked like some sort of glittering red and orange costume, red streaks scattered through her short dark hair. I could barely focus on what she looked like however, because my attention was caught by what could only be tendrils of fire curled around the dark skin of her arms. What? She smiled at me, the flames dying down around her arms.
“You shouldn’t have been out here by yourself at this time at night,” she said, and I felt my cheeks get hot.
“I could have handled it!” I insisted, feeling my anger rise in place of what I knew should have been gratitude. The woman crossed her arms, the smile disappearing from her expression as she raised her eyebrows.
“Oh really? Because from where I was standing it seemed like you were doing the opposite of handling the situation.”
“If you hadn’t intervened I would have. Who are you supposed to be, anyway? It’s not Halloween.”
“I’m Wild Fyre, member of the Superhero Council,” she said, speaking to me as if I was a little kid. “You have heard of the Council, right?” Of course I had heard of the Council. Everyone in West Port knew about the Council, the organization of superheroes that operated out of the city. It was one of the other reasons I had moved here.
“I suppose you want a thank you,” I grouched, not bothering to answer her question. I was being unfair on her, and I knew it, but I couldn’t help it. I tugged at my sleeve unconsciously, and her eyes flicked over my wrist.
“Well not if you…Wait. I recognize that bracelet.” She said slowly. “I think you need to come with me. There are people that want to talk to you.”
