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Killing Olympia
Issue #3: Your Friendly Neighbourhood Purse Snatcher

Issue #3: Your Friendly Neighbourhood Purse Snatcher

I sometimes wondered how the humans survived for so long without getting themselves killed. The mayor had made sure to warn anyone living in Lower Olympus about a curfew, something that was supposed to make sure less people were outside at the dead of night, which turned out to decrease the number of bodies the police had to scrape off the sidewalk in the morning. I couldn’t vouch for every superhuman, some of us were down right vile, but the humans weren’t doing themselves any favors by ignoring the curfew and meandering around in the dark by themselves.

A part of me didn’t even want to bother checking out why some woman was screaming this late at night. My stomach was in knots and I stank of coffee, blood, and sweat. What I needed was a shower, sugar-filled donuts, and some time away from all these annoying little animals.

But I was already crouched atop a three story building, the lower half of my face covered by a crimson ski mask I used way back in my freshman superhero year. I carried it around for times like this, when dressing up as Olympia was out of the question for crimes so damned insignificant. Stopping a thief, a murderer, or saving kittens from trees wouldn’t make headlines, so why bother?

And as if the universe could read my thoughts, I spotted the screaming woman, and the guy wearing a black balaclava cutting the air between them with a knife as he tried to snatch her purse.

You must think you’re so damn funny, fate, I thought, watching them battle. Screw you.

Now I’d have to throw out this pair of sneakers, tights, and crop top because Lord knows how difficult it was to get blood and guts and whatever else was stuffed inside of humans out.

Standing, I took a deep breath to wean out my annoyance, then jumped.

I landed hard on the concrete behind the purse snatcher, frightening them both to death. Underneath the lilting glow of the lamp post, the woman’s curly afro and dark skin glistened with sweat. The thief was no better, seemingly losing the battle despite the… kitchen knife in his hand?

“Gods, you’re pathetic,” I said, grabbing him by the back of the neck. He yelped, then gasped and struggled as I yanked him off the woman. Now that I was closer, she didn’t look that much older than me, with her large round eyes hidden behind circular glasses. “There’s a curfew, you know, and you’re meant to be at home so you don’t get mugged by half-assed criminals.”

He squirmed in my grip, so I grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his back. Down on his knees in front of me, I could feel the strain of his bones underneath my fingers. Like twigs, these people. It’s a wonder none of them walked around wearing inflatable bubbles all year round.

She smiled, dabbing the sweat off her face with an ironed handkerchief. She wore black leather gloves and black shoes polished enough times to reflect the faint golden glow in my eyes.

“Thank you so much,” she said. “I was expecting someone else. Not… you.”

“Just someone trying to do the right thing,” I said, adding, “Or whatever,” quietly.

She got closer, exactly one step. Her heel snapped against the crack riddled concrete. “I’m a big fan of what you do, you know. I fell in love with vigilantes just like you when I was young.”

Great, an enthusiast. “Wonderful. Now, if you could leave so I can dispose of this thing—”

“Garrett,” he wheezed before groaning in pain as I shoved him to the ground. “Name’s—”

I turned him over in one fluid motion, clamping my hand over his mouth. I didn’t care, and nor would I even let him try to make me feel guilty for painting a yet to be chosen alley with his body. The muscles underneath his black sweater were taught, his heartbeat rapid in my ears. If I concentrated, I’m sure I could smell the pheromones of fear that were dampening his collar.

“Look,” I said. “I’d get out of here if I were you. Don’t break the curfew next time.”

As I lifted the man onto my shoulder, turning to leave, she hurried around me, her hand outstretched and an excitable glint in her large brown eyes. “Ava,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’ve kinda got my hands full with the guy who just tried to stab you for your purse.”

“Oh, you can put him down. Garrett couldn’t harm a house fly,” she explained smoothly, nudging up her glasses. “But he does have a terrible fear of heights, so won’t you stay here?”

My eyebrows creased in confusion. The thief wasn’t struggling in my grasp, a lot like his breed of criminal usually did right about now until they realized they were powerless. He was just on my shoulder, a yawn escaping his mouth that he tried to hide behind the back of the knife.

I glared at her, taking a step forward. “If you’re playing some kind of game—”

“You’re a superhero,” she said plainly. “Threats against civilians aren’t your thing.”

Garrett snickered. “She’s got you there.” I pressed my fingers deeper into his side, far enough to feel at least one rib dislocate. Not enough to kill him, but enough to make him shut up.

Well, in an ideal world he would have. Instead he just started writhing around in pain.

“You either tell me what you’re planning, or I show you what Garrett ate for dinner.”

Ava smiled, sharp as the knife that clattered to the concrete. “You’re as callous as they say.”

I cocked an eyebrow and put a hand on my hip. “Do I know you or something?”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” she said, lowering her voice. “But I do, Olympia.” I froze, a coldness seeping into my veins. Her smile grew as she whispered, “Or would Rylee be better?”

A silent minute passed. My heart raced, my mouth dried. I stared at Ava as she smiled.

Then we were thousands of feet in the air above Lower Olympus, her collar in my hand and her tie loosening in the howling winds. She gasped, blinking fast as tears welled in her eyes—not in fear, but in the shot of adrenaline Normals got seconds before they always died. The air was cold here, and I would have gotten much higher, maybe right up around the clouds, but they passed out after a while, and once you skimmed space, they froze up and needed oxygen.

And I needed her to talk, and talk quickly. Nobody had ever found out who I was. Well, only one person had, but Veronica was different. Ava, on the other hand, was a nobody to me.

If she didn’t have a good explanation, then she’d just be another smear on the concrete.

“Three seconds,” I growled, holding her at arm’s length. “Three seconds to tell me how you found out who I am before you learn the hard way that Normals can’t fly all too well.”

Her fingers tried to find purchase on my wrist. She tried to speak, then choked on her tongue as she glanced toward the labyrinth-like streets far, far beneath her kicking feet.

“One,” I counted, releasing a single finger. She yelped, hands clawing at my arm.

“Okay! Okay.” She swallowed, then swallowed harder. “I’ve been stalking you.”

“Bullshit,” I snapped. “I would have noticed you a lot earlier if you had been.”

Another finger. A dip through the air. She panicked and swore, something strange to the tune of yelling,“Raspberries!” I paid it no attention. I wouldn’t let her fall directly downward.

The police would be able to tell if I killed someone, maybe through some civilian that might have been hiding in the apartments that watched me shoot into the sky with a girl in my hands. Besides, I was the only superhuman who could fly as fast and as high without passing out instantly, so letting her go right now was a no. I’d throw Ava into the ocean then; so hard that she’d be a brief burst of color before the waves washed her away and the fish ate what’s left.

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Otherwise, I would have just ran straight through her, but Em would be on me in minutes, then the news headlines would roll back around, then the debates on whether Olympia should be arrested and sent to Olympus Pen would rise back up again. Gods, the cycle got annoying.

And so far, Ava was just a civilian. I didn’t kill their kind. Not until I had a reason.

“Not me!” she yelled over the wind and the panic. “Someone who works for me.”

“Name. Address. I’ll pay them a visit so you two can stick together through death.”

She shook her head. I blinked, confused. She was refusing? “If you kill me, if you let me fall, then everyone on the internet gets your address, name, guardian name, and everything else.”

The smile on her face was back in a flash, but not quite as sharp. Her heartbeat was steadying, and so was her breathing. She wasn’t frightened anymore—she knew she had me.

I yanked her close, so close I could count the reddening veins in her eyes if I wanted. “And what if I pulled you apart, finger by finger, toe by toe, until you told me everything I wanted?”

Ava shook her head, then said, “A single hair out of place and, excuse my language, you’d be toast, Rylee. So if you could just put me down gently, we could talk this through peacefully.”

I laughed dryly. “What, you think I’m stupid? You’d have your little friend shadowing you down there, maybe to try and get you out of a bad situation. We’ll talk, but we’ll stay here.”

She shrugged, or at least tried to in such a position. “Cunning. Fair enough.”

“First,” I said. “You set that whole charade up with your little purse snatching friend?”

“Yes. He’s an actor, and not a very convincing one, but villainy isn’t really his thing.”

She’s lucky I didn’t just slam into him and turn Garrett into a crimson puddle.

“And he’s your friend? The one who's apparently been stalking me?” I asked, disgusted with myself at even the thought of having a Normal get the better of me. “Who else knows?”

Ava laughed, a sound the wind snatched away in seconds. She cleared her throat when I glared at her, my eyes reflecting in her glasses. “Like I said, Garrett’s a nice guy, but he’s just an actor. I’ve got someone else following you, someone you wouldn’t think twice about. And as for who else knows, well…” She shrugged again. “The whole world will if you hold me any looser.”

“Listen up,” I snarled. “If you don’t answer my fucking questions properly, I’ll—”

“—do what exactly?” she asked. “Kill me? Please, go ahead. We both know that my death would send the hounds after the hare. Look at you—you’re, what, eighteen? No older than I am. I always thought you were older, possibly mid-twenties, judging by how large you looked in the pictures and videos that circulate. But at the end of the day, killing me would ruin your life, and I’m not too sure that Zeus’ daughter has it in her to wipe out the entire world like Titan tried to.” She cocked her head. “Still so young and driven, but insecure of what you know you really are.”

My lips curled, disgusted, as if I’d eaten something vile. “Insecure?” I echoed. “I’m fucking Olympia. My father was the most powerful man this planet has ever—or will ever—fucking see.”

“And yet he died,” she mused. “I’ve been to his grave, seen his statue, and paid my dues.”

“So you’ll know that I’m not like you,” I spat out. “I’m more than a human could ever hope of being in their lifetime, so why the hell would I be insecure around the likes of your species?”

She raised an eyebrow, curious at what I’d said. I could see the cogs working deep in her head, whirring so loudly I briefly wondered what I’d find in there if I cracked open her skull.

“Well, it’s simple,” Ava continued. “You’re just a teenager. You’re meant to be insecure.”

I looked at her dead in the eyes, ice flooding my veins. “You’re getting dangerously close to finding out how expensive life support can be if you keep fucking with my patience, Ava.”

“What I mean is that you’ve got nothing to show for who you actually are,” she explained. “Sure, you’re the Olympia, the world’s last superhero, the Golden Gal, Fox News calls you, but you’ve done nothing except be a pain to the public. How many millions worth of damage have you racked up in just five years of superhero work? How many lives have you inadvertently taken through your actions? You don’t know, I doubt, and why should you? You’re Zeus’ daughter.”

“You’re saying a whole fucking lot without getting to a point,” I said. Unless… Glancing below me, squinting my eyes, I saw Garrett still on the pavement being tended to by someone with ash-blonde hair cut short to their shoulders. Her shadow? The person who had been stalking me?

Was she wasting time, trying to get her shadow to find her up here? I tensed, readying myself. You never knew what to expect from superhumans. Some were powerful enough to warp reality, people like Witchling and everyone else from the House of One, and for all I knew, Ava could be one of them, too. One of the very few superhumans I couldn’t sense the powers of.

“You’ve got nothing to show for being a superhero, and you’re afraid you’ll never quite be like your father.” I snapped back to attention, staring daggers at her. I bawled my fist, crumbling her shirt. “The mighty Zeus’ only daughter, and nothing but a blight on his glamorous legacy.”

A lump formed in my throat, quickly swallowed. “Insulting me won’t help you.”

Her smile narrowed until her lips were thinly pressed lines. “You and I are more alike than you can think. Both of our fathers were great men, but we’ve got nothing to show for it.”

I pulled her that bit closer, looking down toward the pavement at the same time; both Garrett and the silver-haired figure had disappeared. “And who the hell’s your father?”

“Lucian,” Ava said plainly. I almost choked on the lump in my throat. “Or Lucifer, if you want to abide by the supervillain report the Olympiad made public a decade or so ago.”

My breaths hitched at the base of my throat. Hot and raw, burning my mouth dry as I stared at her. A bubble of excitement formed in my gut, but with it came an odd feeling. A shift in my stomach, one that filled my mouth with bitter saliva. An S-Grade supervillain, Lucifer had taken over Lower Olympus, almost ripping it free from the greater city in his mad pursuit for dictatorial autonomy. He was a former member of the Nocturne, arms dealer, kingpin, bottom of the barrel villain scum, a godsdamned serial killing superhuman, and the one villain dad didn’t put away.

He was the boogeyman to young Supers years ago, the shadow that always watched.

I didn’t find out why dad never killed him. He was a god in comparison to these creatures, far more powerful than I would ever be, and yet he let Lucian keep operating in Lower Olympus.

Hell, the Olympians never even bothered trying to take him down when they dealt with the Nocturne. Of all the villains they battled, Lucian was always the one who managed to escape.

The public chastised them. The world’s governments brought them to trial, demanding an answer to why and how they could allow a supervillain to take over almost half a state. And I had sat there in front of the tv, not quite understanding how my own father, standing quite literally head and shoulders above the might of the full Olympian team, would stay silent against Lucifer.

Call me an idiot, but that was my signal to stop fighting purse snatchers.

Being a fourteen-year old kid with new superpowers, desperate to scratch the superhero itch, to quell the cravings, I thought about taking him down myself. He’ll notice me then, I had thought, because killing an S-Grade would definitely make dad care about his damned daughter.

So I put on the scarlet ski mask, snuck out at midnight, and flew into the darkness.

I had learnt two things that night: never underestimate any S-Grade, and never ever dare assume that just because someone shared your blood, would they ever have your back in a fight.

I hadn’t died, of course, but had been somewhat born again. Christened to this world that I lived in now, and made to understand not to give anyone an inch. There was an irony lost to me there, one buried underneath the corpses he left me to dig my way out of when he was done with me. Lucian showed me Hell, and not the kind humans speak about in their churches, but the kind that grabs onto your arms and legs, tries to rip you apart and drown you in a mound of malformed flesh. I never got my dues back. Never got my revenge. I strayed from Lower Olympus, making sure not to bother with his gangsters or superhumans or him personally. No, I wasn’t afraid of him.

I just never got another chance to kill him, and the Olympians made it clear not to try again.

You’re too weak to even think of being a hero, dad had said, and of the dozen times he bothered coming to talk to me, his little half human daughter, those were the words that stung the most. Laying there on a mattress damp with sweat and blood that had seeped through bandages, he hadn’t looked worried or phased, but angry. Disappointed that I was even crying under his watch.

But I understood why he had. You were the greatest hero the planet had ever seen, and there your daughter was, a crippled bloodied mess. Frankly, I would have been disappointed, too.

It served me right thinking I was strong enough to even think of being a hero back then.

Lucian had kept me awake, and that smile had burned itself into my childhood nightmares. I missed classes, got detention because I just couldn’t concentrate in school. How could I when a man who nearly ki… I shook my head, jamming the thoughts deeper into the folds of my brain.

I had a sore spot even thinking about Lucian. His crime family had dissipated in the past few years for whatever reason, maybe because the government wasn’t playing ball with him anymore, and in their absence came more crime, and more two-bit gangsters trying to gain new territorial ground. More anti-supers groups. More protests. Chaos and filth and fucking death.

And now his daughter was in my hand, dangling above the part of the city he ruined.

I clenched my free hand into a fist, golden arcs of electricity sparking from my skin. Ava’s eyes widened, but she didn’t have the time to react as I let go of her shirt collar, letting her fall.