A.C.Franklin Fiction

“You’ll never stop me!” Nightfall boomed, extending her hands. Marianne’s eyes widened as she stumbled back. Crossing her arms in front of her, she pulled up a shield of water in time to block the blow. Shadows streamed forward, slashing at the water but unable to get through due to its softly emanating light.

Marianne squinted up at Nightfall. The art gallery atrium was quiet but for the subdued swoosh of her water shield around her. Shadows stretched towards her, cut off by the soft glow of light from her shield. They probed for a way past but dissipated before they could touch her.

Her shield, which she had stupidly left a gigantic hole in not one minute ago. Before she could realize that the question was just as idiotic as the mistake, she’d already asked it. “Are you okay?”

The villain stared at her from the balcony, her eyes lightening to a chocolate brown as the shadows she controlled retreated from her face. “What?”

Marianne bit her lip, complete and utter embarrassment flooding through her. Then she set her jaw. She might as well commit to it. “You missed. You don’t miss.”

Nightfall continued to stare down at her as if she was completely out of her mind, which was, honestly, fair. That didn’t mean she wasn’t prepared to double down on her insanity. This was all a terrible idea, but she was nothing if not committed.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

Nightfall had gotten over her shock, it seemed, and was gathering herself for some incisive comment. Marianne needed to act before the villain managed that. With a final wince, she let her shield drop to the floor with a splash.

A couple of drops hit a painting; she pulled them off quickly with a grimace. It was fine. It would be fine. Right?

It was on the wrong side of midnight, she needed to get to work early tomorrow, and she wanted a bucket of coffee. She was going to go insane if Nightfall kept trying to rob galleries every third night. Even if the painting wouldn’t be alright, she was far too tired to care.

As she fussed with the painting, Nightfall’s shadows retreated back to her. The villain herself was wide-eyed in shock. “What are you doing?” she demanded, suspicious.

“You don’t miss,” Marianne repeated, folding her arms.

“I didn’t miss,” she hissed back, peering around the atrium. “You blocked me. What are you playing at?”

Marianne blinked at her. “Are—are you looking for traps?”

Nightfall shot her a glare. “Why shouldn’t I? You’re acting suspicious.”

“I’m acting suspicious?” Marianne demanded. “You missed! You don’t miss! It is night. There are shadows,” she added, sweeping an arm at the floor, “literally everywhere. How could you possibly miss?”

Nightfall’s lips thinned as her shadows retreated, piling themselves onto the black gown and glossy, wavy black hair they formed for her. Marianne would never admit it, but she thought it was a lot more classy and elegant than her slightly baggy jump suit. She’d make a water dress to conduct superhero business in, except that water was clear.

They stared at each other in silent bafflement a moment longer, then Nightfall extended shadowy tendrils up through the open skylight and disappeared.

Marianne sighed and pulled out her phone to get in touch with the police. Freaking villains.

---

All her power, and she worked in a pastry shop. Superheroing had a legal requirement to be unpaid after the whole scandal with Angelus, which was understandable. She didn’t have to be a superhero, either, and many powered people weren’t or weren’t strong enough to manage it, but it gave her a scholarship for her culinary arts degree. Not a full ride, but enough that the coffee shop work and a few small loans covered the rest, plus room and board. She was lucky that way.

She wasn’t lucky in any other way. It balanced out.

The police had kept her there for another two hours. Her supervising hero, Magog, had given her a half hour lecture about being stupid that she didn’t need, since she already knew, thank you very much, and she had to finish a nutrition assignment for ten o’clock in the morning that she hadn’t started yet. By the time she had finished it, she left in time to be five minutes late to work. Five AM start times could go die in a hole.

“Whoa, you look like crap.”

Marianne rolled her eyes, fighting into her apron. It wasn’t usually this hard, was it? “Thanks, Lizzie. What colour contacts today?”

Her co-worker blinked unnaturally yellow eyes with slit pupils at her, flipping her unnaturally red, if short, hair out of her face. “Did you get any sleep at all, Marie?”

Marianne frowned at her slightly. She had bags under her eyes. “Second job plus assignment messing up my schedule, as per usual. Same to you, by the way.”

Lizzie shrugged. “Whatever. Watching movies, you know?”

She wished she did.

Lizzie passed her a coffee with a flourish. She moaned in delight, spiralling the water of the coffee into a small funnel in order to make it cool enough to drink, like she always did. Lizzie gave her a small grin at the power use, like she always did. “Are we making cupcakes, or are we making cupcakes?”

They made cupcakes.

---

A week. A full week, and Nightfall didn’t do anything. Not that Marianne wasn’t glad of the break. Because of her abilities, and both her and Nightfall’s relative newness, she had been designated as Marianne’s ‘nemesis,’ which reduced the other heroes’ expectations nicely. She’d only had to log one night of teamwork, which was good news considering her assignments. It was just that…well, she was worried. Nightfall had a bit of a rhythm to her schemes, and it was disconcerting that she hadn’t done anything. Marianne didn’t wish her ill in any way. The villain never did any harm outside of slashing at the heroes that got in her way, and even those she was careful not to hurt too much. She more often used scare tactics, which worked much better than Marianne would have expected on most heroes. Since getting her powers at the end of high school, Marianne had grown to enjoy their battles. They were fun. Was Nightfall in trouble?

“Something wrong?” Lizzie asked her. Her contacts were purple today.

“No,” she grunted, continuing to knead the dough. “Why would it be?”

“Because you’re trying way too hard to murder that dough? To the point of overworking it?”

Marianne looked down at the dough her hand was clenched in and sighed. “Sorry. We’re going to have to scrap this.”

“Hey, no big deal,” Lizzie said with a shrug.

She rubbed her forehead and sighed as Lizzie disposed of the dough and started a new batch. “Really, I’m sorry.”

“You can fix it by telling me what’s wrong.”

“Someone I work with hasn’t been showing up lately, and I’m really worried about her,” Marianne blurted out.

Lizzie jerked slightly. “Wha—really? Who?”

She looked away, trying to remember what she’d said about her ‘second job’ in order to keep the superheroing anonymous, as required by law. “Um—goth girl.”

“Are you serious?” Lizzie demanded, smacking the dough against the counter hard. “I thought you hated her!”

“I mean, we’re…” she wracked her brain for a response that covered the situation adequately “…antagonistic, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I hate her. It’s more just competition. We challenge each other.”

Lizzie stared at her not unlike Nightfall had.

“Stop looking at me like I’m crazy,” she grumbled. “Even if I did hate her, who knows? She might be dead, and I really don’t want that.”

Lizzie looked back at the dough. “Well, fair enough,” she mumbled. “That’s dark.”

“How am I supposed to know when she never comes to work anymore?” Marianne demanded. “I just—I’m worried.”

“Marie, honey, it’s not that I don’t hope you find out,” Lizzie said, “but maybe you should be prepared to never know.”

She plucked at the edge of her apron nervously. “I can’t do that. I just—”

Lizzie turned around, patting her firmly on the shoulder. Purple eyes locked with hers; despite the fakeness of the colour, they seemed sincere. “Marianne. Stop worrying. From what you’ve said about her, she probably just quit to go move to Europe or become a horror author or something. There’s no need to make the worst out of things without knowing for sure.”

Marianne bit her lip for a moment. “That’s fair,” she agreed hesitantly.

Lizzie patted her shoulder again, then pointed at her forehead. “You’ve got flour on your face.”

Lizzie was great. She deserved superpowers. Maybe she could get the power to change her eye colour without having to use contacts. It was uncommon, but people could get superpowers all the way up until they were thirty.

---

Another week passed without any sign of Nightfall. Marianne was worrying more than ever, in spite of Lizzie’s attempts to cajole her out of it. In the end, Lizzie just let her beat the dough, but stopped her before she overworked it. She appreciated the stress relief. Nightfall was probably dead. She must have crossed a greater villain or something, which was a terrible thought. Marianne really hoped it wasn’t the case, but in the meantime, the possibility was driving her loopy.

When she came home from her classes late at night at the start of the third week without Nightfall, something seemed off about her apartment. Touching her door handle, she found it cooler than normal, she thought. Narrowing her eyes at the suspicious door, Marianne cracked open her water bottle before unlocking it.

Opening it slowly, shadows could be seen webbing their way across the small room at unnatural angles. Marianne walked in cautiously, looking for Nightfall. Why here? Why now? It didn’t make any sense.

Her desk chair spun slowly, revealing Nightfall, sitting in it regally. She was the closest to Marianne she had ever been. “We need to talk,” she stated authoritatively, her narrowed eyes completely black.

Marianne screeched and threw the bottle at her. “Lizzie-what-the-heck!” She demanded in one breath.

Nightfall—Lizzie—squawked as the bottle bounced off her shadow shield, keeping herself from getting wet. “Marie—”

“Lizzie!” Marianne shouted again. “What! The! Heck! You just disappeared! What was I supposed to think?!”

Lizzie stared at her, stricken. The black bled out of her eyes. “I—”

“I thought you were dead! How could you make me worry like that?”

“I thought you’d be happy—” she tried to respond weakly.

“Well I wasn’t! And you got to watch me be unhappy for two entire weeks, Lizzie! So I repeat: what the—”

Her upstairs neighbour began pounding on the floor, cutting her off. Marianne scowled at her ceiling. “Shut up, Greg!” she shouted back. “This is more important than your stupid video games!”

A muffled “screw you” could be heard through the ceiling.

Lizzie looked bewildered as the shadows faded away completely. Brown eyes and pixie cut brown hair were her natural features, and her cheekbones looked much rounder without shadow enhancement. Under the dramatic, power-formed dress, she was wearing a t-shirt and jeans. “But how did you know who I was?”

“How could I not?” Marianne demanded, throwing her arms forward. “Lizzie, you used that exact same tone of voice on the idiot that wanted a bagel from a pastry shop today. This close, those shadows could not hide enough of you for me to miss the similarities. Just—seriously. What happened? Are you okay?”

Lizzie…burst into tears. Marianne froze up for a moment before rushing forward to hug her, even if it was awkward. After a few minutes of hugging, she thought to get her a glass of water to help. In order to keep the hug going, she drew the water that had been in the bottle (ew, carpet water) and dumped it into the sink after using it to turn the handle, collecting a glass and filling it. It was exercising her fine control more than normal, but she wasn’t even thinking about that now. “Here, here,” she coaxed, offering the glass.

Lizzie chugged it, then caught her breath, swiping at her cheeks. “Why aren’t you scared of me?” she wondered.

“Why should I be scared of you?” Marianne asked blankly.

“Shadows, Aqua,” she answered with a snort. “I control shadows. As you put it, ‘they are literally everywhere.’”

Ah. So that was her villainous side. Marianne had definitely seen it on occasion in the pastry shop. “Your dress is wicked cool, by the way,” she said instead. “I am jealous.”

Lizzie looked ready to cry again. “My powers are too scary. I tried to use them to help people in high school, but they always freaked out. No matter if I wanted to be a hero or not, shadows are inherently villainous.”

“And your shadow hair is amazing!” Marianne added. “You could use your powers to be a model. It would be awesome.”

“I’m a monster! Why aren’t you scared of me?”

Marianne stared at her for a long moment. Lizzie stared back. She took a deep breath. “Humans,” she stated, “average at least seventy percent water. When I first got my powers, I accidently sent someone to the ICU by controlling the water in their body. To the point where some of it was no longer in their body.” Lizzie looked suitably horrified. “Sure, you can take parts of the environment and use it to hurt people. I can take a person’s insides and explode them. Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

“Marie,” she gasped, “you’d never—”

She poked her in the nose. “And neither would you. So there.”

“But I’m still a villain,” Lizzie said, sheepish.

“Student loans?” Marianne asked.

“Online courses,” she agreed. “I feel better if I sleep most of the day.”

“I wish I could do that,” Marianne mumbled. “I mean, I’m only really in the hero thing for the scholarship, but it wreaks havoc with my schedule.” She tipped her head to the side. “Do you think that might work for you? Scholarship money?”

“What are you talking about?” Lizzie asked, baffled.

“What if,” Marianne began slowly, “you and I could fake your death as Nightfall, and you showed up as somebody who’s just got their powers, and register as a superhero to get the scholarship. We could team up as Aqua and…Dusk! It would be fantastic.”

“They’d recognize me instantly—especially with that name.”

Marianne rolled her eyes. “I only recognized you because I knew you from work. You changed your appearance a lot, Lizzie.”

She fidgeted, uneasy. “Why are you helping me?” she finally asked.

“Because I like you,” Marianne said with a smile. “You’re too great to work with to pass up the chance to do more of it. You’ve always had my back. Time for me to have yours.”