I lurched to my knees, dazed and unable to focus on the blurry world revolving around me. Mr. Falcus and Ms. Ishida were standing over me, as well as another man, dressed in plain black with a round black cap on his head. The driver who had opened the car door. I tried to lunge forward and tackle him, but ended up tripping over my feet and sprawling on the ground, hitting my chin hard against the pavement.

There was quiet laughter from my watchers. How dare they make a fool of me when they were supposed to be on my side, and then have the nerve to stand there and laugh about it? My hands curled into fists, but I wasn’t about to humiliate myself further by trying to attack them again. At least not directly.

Instead, I channelled all that hatred at the ground under their feet, willing the asphalt to become liquid. The molecules stirred slightly, and the left heel of Ms. Ishida’s spiky magenta pumps sunk a scant millimeter into the ground. Neither of them noticed that I had done anything, but the attempt left me lightheaded and gasping, with dark splotches filling my vision.

Ok, so apparently mild concussions temporarily knocked out my superpowers. That would have been nice to know before. I managed to blink away the dark spots, but I didn’t try to trap the Rubes again. I would just have to store this hatred away for the next time that I met them, assuming I made it out of this situation alive. With my superpowers temporarily out of commission I was painfully vulnerable.

“So we may have lied about the apartment, but the deadline to prove your worth still stands,” Mr. Falcus said. “See you in a month.”

I blinked in surprise. They were letting me go, just like that? I dragged myself up to a seated position as the car accelerated out of the alley, and tried to take stock of my situation.

I was sitting in an alley in an unknown city with a bleeding chin, a temporary lack of superpowers, and no possessions except the clothes I was wearing and a backpack. At least they hadn’t tried to take the backpack away.

What were the Rubes playing at? Tears prickled in my eyes, and I scrubbed them away furiously. I had expected danger and derring-do. I had expected superheroes and sinister plots and a city that would cower at the mere mention of my name. Being dumped in an alley with a throbbing head and a ridiculous one-month deadline was not part of the plan.

I probably would have sat there all day, cursing the Rubes and plotting my vengeance, if the forgotten pile of rags hadn’t stirred at that moment, revealing itself to be a man. He looked at me with red, watering eyes that were focused on something over my right shoulder.

“’ere sweet ‘art,” he mumbled indistinctly. “Watcha doing down in these parts? You lost?”

My scowl alone should have frozen him to the spot, if he had actually been looking at my face. I opened my mouth to make a blistering retort, paused, and closed it again. Instead of shouting at him, I focused my attention on the pile of rags he was seated on. They shifted, reluctantly at first, then all at once – a whirling storm of threads that wrapped itself around the man’s arms, dragging him facedown into the pile of cloth. That would teach him. I was no one’s “sweet ‘art”.

A knot in my chest undid itself - my superpowers were back. A grin spread across my face, and for the first time maniacal laughter naturally bubbled up inside of me. I pushed myself to my feet, fully energized again and nearly giddy with the power coursing through my veins. So what if the Rubes wanted to toss me into the city with no money, no friends, and no place to call home? I would prove to them that I was the greatest supervillain this city, no, this world, had ever seen. When they returned in a month they would be falling over themselves to apologize for treating me this way.

I tightened the straps on my backpack and raised my aching head high before stepping out of the alley. Wealthy businessmen and women hurried past, talking into their cellphones, never once sparing a glance for the supervillain strolling down the sidewalk with them. At least the Rubes had been nice enough to drop me right in the middle of downtown.

Shining glass-and-steel skyscrapers rose sharply into the sky on all sides, interspersed with shorter but no less intimidating marble-fronted buildings. Above them all rose the CN tower, a concrete spike stabbing into the low hanging clouds. I stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, head tilted back to take in its full height. My fingers tingled with the urge to climb all the way up into the sky. Beneath my feet the ground shifted, the concrete softening as it sensed my excitement.

Tonight. No matter what, I would be climbing that tower as soon as it was dark to get my first proper look at the city that would soon be mine.

But not yet - I dug my nails into my hands and forced my eyes away from the tower. First I needed to find money and a place to live. I was not going to end this day a penniless, homeless failure. My original plan had been to lay low until I was more familiar with the city. Spend a few days recruiting minions and scoping out a good place to set up my secret lair. Of course, that was before the Rubes had gone back on their promise of help and abandoned me to figure things out for myself.

I continued down the street, heading straight for the CN tower. Might as well keep my goal in sight while I figured out what to do next. What I really needed right now was a good old-fashioned bank robbery. I would walk in the front door and then walk out with my head held high and enough money to buy everything I needed to start my crime spree.

Suddenly I saw it across the street – the very building I was looking for. Tall columns loomed over the sidewalk and the name of the bank was chiselled into its marble front. Perfect. Now that was a properly theatrical place to start my career in supervillainy.

I ducked into a nearby alleyway, making sure that a putrid green dumpster hid me from passersby. It was time for the debut of my costume. But first, I needed a better change room.

The dumpster was reluctant to agree to my request, but after some careful nudging of its internal structure, it allowed me to pull out a sheet of green metal from its side. The rest of the dumpster thinned as the metal was siphoned away to form a makeshift curtain. I ended up with quite a nice little area of alleyway, hidden from prying eyes. If you ignored the smell from the dumpster, and the grimy asphalt of the ground, it was almost homey.

Heart thumping with anticipation, I pulled out my costume from the backpack and changed as quickly as I could. Black tights, followed by a black bodysuit overtop, then my tattered red tutu. I ran shaking fingers over the tutu, smoothing out the wrinkles in the stiff fabric.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Next came red-dyed ballet slippers and elbow length red gloves. For the final touch, I pulled out an Academy-issued black mask that I had stolen and spruced up with some bright red paint, and slipped it over my face.

Costume donned, I squeezed my eyes shut, allowing myself to slip fully into the role of a supervillain. Delphi Dunn was shoved into the backpack and hidden behind the dumpster, and it was Death’s Dancer who pulled back the curtain of green metal and stepped out into the world.

I sauntered from the alley and straight across the street, ignoring the cars slamming on their brakes to avoid hitting me. With my full costume on, I had truly become Death’s Dancer. I’d like to see the Rubes laugh at me now.

I walked straight in the front door of the bank, and was immediately intercepted by a security guard.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said, his voice low and threatening, but unwaveringly polite. “I would ask you to kindly remove your mask.”

“My mask?” I blurted out, hardly able to believe my ears. He wasn’t objecting to the fact that a deranged ballerina had just shown up on his doorstep, only that I had my face covered?

“Yes, we do not allow disguises on bank premises. For security reasons, you understand.”

“Oh, of course sir, no problem,” I said cheerfully, giving him my best insane grin.

Two seconds later he was on the ground with his feet and hands encased in the bank’s marble floor. He struggled and yelled, attracting stares from all around the lofty room. Two more security guards rushed at me, drawing weapons. I made the marble floor momentarily liquid, tripping them up, then allowed it to solidify again, trapping them just as I had the first guard. By this time, someone in the bank was screaming, and a lot of the customers had dropped to the floor. That seemed to be an automatic reaction, but it was pretty useless as I had no gun to wave around, only the floor to use against them.

I encouraged the marble to flow over the wrists and ankles of everyone on the floor, immobilizing them, before I trapped the feet of those still standing. The effort of manipulating so much marble was making my head spin, and I blinked hard to bring the room into focus again. I still wasn’t fully recovered from my headfirst encounter with the ground, but I couldn’t stop now – I still had the money to get, after all.

After taking a quick look around to check that no one was sneaking up on me, I glided to the counter and vaulted over it in a single, easy move. The clerks behind the desk all had their feet trapped, but their hands were free.

I grabbed the nearest one by the collar of his shirt.

“Open the vault,” I hissed, just a few inches from his face.

“I c-can’t move!” He whimpered, raising his hands in front of his face as if to ward off a blow. I glared at him. Right, he would need to move in order to open the vault. I was about to release the restraints on his feet when someone else spoke calmly behind me.

“We’re not going to give you anything.”

I let go of the unfortunate clerk and performed a slow, menacing pivot to face the speaker. She was leaning against the counter, looking for all the world as though this was just another day at the office, despite her feet being stuck to the floor.

“Oh yeah, and what makes you think that?” I asked, coming up close and leaning in so my black-and-red masked face was inches from her own. It had worked so well on the other clerk, but this one barely flinched.

“Well you don’t have a gun, for starters,” the female clerk said, looking down her nose at me. She was over six feet tall, making it difficult to intimidate her. “What kind of bank robber do you think you are? Clearly not a very good one.”

“I don’t need a gun.” I wrinkled my nose at her, stretching my mind to the ground beneath her feet. The marble turned to liquid once more, dropping her about a foot. Perfect - the top of her head was now level with my eyes. My head began to throb from the effort, but it was totally worth it.

The clerk pin wheeled her arms, thrown off balance by the sudden drop, but managed to grab the counter to avoid falling. “Sure, you’ve got a nice party trick going on here, but you can’t expect us to open our vault and give you the money just because you stuck our feet to the...”

She didn’t finish her sentence because I slapped her across the face. I winced as the slap echoed through the otherwise silent room.

“Open the vault now, or you will get a lot worse than that.” My hand stung from the blow, but I took comfort in the fact that her face probably felt a lot worse, given the bright red handprint blooming on her cheek.

The woman said nothing, remaining perfectly still with her neck at an odd angle from where it was flung after my slap. Someone cleared their throat behind me, breaking the charged silence.

“I’ll open it for you, just please don’t hurt us!” The first clerk said, eyes wide with terror as I turned to face him.

“Idiot,” the other clerk muttered, but to my relief she made no other comment. Beads of sweat trickled down my face behind the mask and an army of jackhammers had taken up residence between my ears. Forcing this much solid marble to give up its form was rapidly draining my strength, and I doubted I would stand much of a chance against anyone with superpowers right now. Every moment I stayed here increased the chances of the police showing up, or worse, the city’s superhero.

I released the first clerk’s feet, and he staggered to the vault. I leaned over his shoulder, watching as he fumbled with the lock. It took him three tries to get it open with his shaking fingers. I already had my red-gloved hands balled, ready to knock him to the ground and get a less panicky clerk, when the door swung open at last.

Now that his job was done, I trapped his feet in the floor once more and entered the vault alone. Stacks of money met my eyes, more than I could possibly take with me. I gaped at it all, realizing for the first time that I hadn’t brought anything to carry it with. If I’d been thinking ahead I could have brought my backpack, but it wouldn’t have matched the rest of my costume.

Instead I grabbed the biggest purse within reach from under someone’s chair, emptied the contents onto the counter and re-entered the vault. It took only a few minutes to stuff the purse with cash and shove a few more wads inside my body suit.

This done, I exited the vault, yanking the heavy door shut behind me, and scrambled onto the counter.

“Thank you for your kind contributions to the pockets of your newest public enemy,” I announced to the crowd. “You lucky folks get a preview. Soon all of Toronto will tremble before...Death’s Dancer!”

I finished off this pronouncement with a maniacal laugh that rang beautifully from the vaulted marble ceiling of the bank. The acoustics were infinitely better than they had been when I practiced alone in my room back at the Academy. The laugh was still echoing as I jumped off the counter and made a beeline for the door.

There were shouts of outrage and confusion as I dashed out the front door and onto the main street. As soon as I was outside, I released my grip on the marble floor of the bank. It snapped back to its normal position, freeing everyone inside, and I pressed a hand to my forehead, trying to calm the pounding.

Sirens wailed in the distance and I shook my head. I wasn’t out of this yet.

I bolted across the street, purse clutched in front of me, scattering businessmen and women in all directions. Their shouts followed me into the alley where I had stored my backpack. They were definitely paying attention to me now.

I stopped for a second to retrieve my backpack, before shoving my hands and feet into the brick wall of the nearest building and climbing to the roof. The building was only a few stories high, but by the time I made it to the roof, black spots were dancing across my vision. I barely managed to grab the lip of the roof before the wall oozed back into a solid, leaving my feet dangling in the air.

I dragged myself onto the rooftop, dropping my backpack and purse full of money with a sigh of relief before turning to peer over the edge for any signs of pursuit.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” The voice came from the roof behind me, and I nearly leaped out of my tutu.