Red Rose. No. Gauche.

Ivy.

Off theme.

Petal Parade. Petal Protector.... The girl left those two right where they fell flat.

"A Hero needs a name." The girl muttered, and she scuffed her shoe against the rooftop.

It was an oddly gravely roof. Not like the other rooftops the girl had frequented recently. This one was flat and gravely and grey, with silver and black AC towers, metal struts and tubes which rose up in odd intervals. "I wonder if it helps with insulation in some fashion," she muttered. "Or maybe it catches AC runoff to prevent pooling?"

She checked her watch.

"I'll be Rosette." She decided.

Short. Elegant. On theme. "Rosette".

And as she spoke a flower appeared in her hand. Not just any flower. A rose. With blood red petals and perfect — not bruise on it. The thorns were long and thin, but though she gripped the stem tightly with bare fingers, the thorns didn't prick her.

She bound it firmly in place in her hair's train and checked her watch again and then... it was time.

"Rosette." She said, and she felt the shape of the name as it formed on her tongue. The sizzle as it left her lips, and the solid click as it meant her.

Rosette jumped

----------------------------------------

She fell.

Fifth story. Fourth. Her eyes tracked a window on the third floor apartment across the street, and as she fell into alignment, she moved again.

Fast Corner

Double Jump

Her momentum altered. Her legs collected beneath her as if crouching on an invisible disk, and she jumped again. Fast. Far and fast! Across the street, straight at that open window... and the man standing in it.

She almost made it.

As if pulled by some long forgotten instinct, the man's eyes flickered upward in the process of lighting a cigaret and they caught on her flying form.

He froze for a second, and with her power burning in her, Rosette could see it all clearly.

How his eyes squinted in puzzlement. The point when his brain caught up. The cigaret and lighter falling to the floor. His unshaven chin wobbling, gaping and his eyes widening in sudden terror at the impossibility of what he was seeing.

It all wrote itself out in front of Rosettes eyes, as if they were telescopes, perfectly zeroed in on the man, and he was moving through some sort of invisible, hampering sludge.

So she saw it the moment his brain kicked in again and he did what any gunman sentry would do in his position. He raised his gun, and opened fire.

Too late. Rosette moved.

Arial Roll

Double Jump

The bullets zipped by in little jolts of super sonic pressure. Flash Step — she was at the window.

Her hand whipped out, catching the gun-hand as the man tried desperately to orient and smashed it against the window frame. Her other elbow caught the man's jaw, brutally killing his cry for help behind a row of shattered teeth.

It didn't matter. This was audible. Rosette knew that. So she finished it quickly.

MOVE.

Like dancing flames. Her arm came around twining around his arm, joining her other hand still gripping his wrist — a long arm to move, short to — her foot painted a crescent on the floor, she jerked and the elbow snapped.

No more guns for you.

This time the man did manage to scream shrilly. For a moment. Then Rosette's hands flashed again. Once. Twice. And the man fell, nose broken, eyes already swelling to the floor, stunned.

Rosette breathed. And her power burned. She could feel it waking up and spreading from her chest to her arms, to her legs and head in a wave of bright heat and prickles like thorns.

Already she could feel the tiara forming, casting a mask of orange shade across her face and wreathing her hair in flames.

Somehow, Rosette knew that there was a rose carved into the face of the tiara now. Just like there should be.

She was Rosette. "I'm a Hero." She hissed.

When the sudden silence transformed into the confused clamor of voices, Rosette was already moving.

Doors opened. Men spilled out, and she heard men cursing and cocking weapons. Too slow. Far too slow. Like cold honey. Her power burned and she could see every movement like they were choreographed`.

Flash Step — She flickered — and was among them.

Low — her leg swept out. She caught a knee — it broke — and then her hands followed. Two pressure points, a wrist — grab. Break. Solar Plexus. Head. Move.

Flash Step — She danced. Flicker.

Flicker. Head. Ribs. She swept a knee. Traced where he'd fall, caught his companion in the neck with her finger tips and then finished the job with her heel to his temple as he hit the ground. His companion followed.

Flash Step

Fire danced down Rosettes arms as she moved. They formed gauntlets and greaves, with thorns like frozen flames searing their way across them like unfurling vines. Roses bloomed in the flames.

Her boots burned where she stepped, wreathed in orange flames which hardened and they left traceries of sparks and fire as they whipped through the air.

Spin. Kick, double — triple punch, groin, head. Head. Head again. Break the knee. Break the elb —

Rosettes eyes flashed left.

Premonition

She dove as gunfire blasted her position.

Then she was up and her feet left the floor in a surge of motion. They touched the wall — Quick Corner — and she was off!

Another burst of gunfire. Not a handgun this time. Something automatic. It blazed passed her head like a trail of sparks and those little puffs of overpressure as she passed, and then it was over.

She broke his arm — that was becoming a favorite, a form of karmic retribution she thought, then his knee, then a knee to the head to put him down.

She spun to meet... And it was over. No one else stood.

They were scattered on the floor like toys, many in positions that were not at all natural, with guns and knives flung this way and that where they'd been ripped from fingertips. A couple of them whimpered, but most just lay there stunned.

Five seconds.

Rosette's lips twisted. Her power roiled and raged within in her. About her. Through her.

She wasn't done. With her power surging through her, she could feel them all, like little sparks of radiance.

The men on the ground. The ones still in the rooms, frozen, stunned at the sudden and then abruptly ended violence. And the victims.

They stood out to Rosette. She couldn't say why they did. Only that they seemed to blossom differently in her mind than the rest.

Her eyes flashed and her tiara pulsed hot flames through her hair and down her spine.

Rosette had been specific when she'd chosen her entrance. To her left were the elevators, the right, the stair well. This was the exit, and in front of her was the hall. It traveled straight passed all the rooms, which were made in that parallel hotel room fashion.

All the rooms below her level were innocent — or at least, not overtly guilty. She'd staked this place out, and her informant had been... informed. This level and up were fair game.

She'd taken the exit, and the hall. The only other possible exit was on the far side. If someone ran that way they could make it.

Which is what someone did a second later.

Rosettes arms moved. She stepped forward in a fencers lunge as fire pooled in her palms and she clapped.

CLAP

There was flash of light, sparks and a flood of pressure which traveled down the hall, blasting doors open and shattering light bulbs.

It slammed into the man on the far side and he made a dull thud as he hit the wall and fell limply.

Her eyes flashed again. She held this exit. And the hall. If they ran, they could make the far one, but only if she was in a room and couldn't see. The victims were in the rooms. So she was taking down anyone in her path.

"No one escapes" she hissed into the silence. But she knew some would. Some would be able to make that dash. When she was in a room. When she was fighting....

She'd track them down later. But for now... she'd have to be fast.

Rosette could be fast.

Flash Step

----------------------------------------

Get to the door. Get to the Room. Get —

Flash Step

— And don't forget to breath.

She spun and flames roared.

She kicked out, an ankle broke. The knee followed and then the head.

Move. Get to the door. Fight. Get to the door.

It was all chaos. Men streamed through the door and she knocked them down like nine pins. They came to her. Why weren't they running?

'No one escapes.'

Rosette needed — she needed time. She needed to get to the door.

Bullets flashed by. They mostly missed, but one glanced off her gauntlet and her hand went numb.

Her eyes narrowed. Heat flooded her.

Flash Step — Break the arm, knee to groin, fist to chest, grab the head and ki—

No. Elbow to head. He dropped.

Thud. Thud. She staggered. Her full arm went numb now. Then her leg. Her healing factor kicked in and she —

Ground roll — High Jump. Twist — KI—No.

Kick to the face. Grab the wrist. Break. Break. Break!

She was getting swamped. They kept coming! She need space. "Get to the room" She snarled. "Get. TH—"

CLAP

CLAP

CLAP

"—EM"

Rosette fell against the wall. "I am Rosette. I am a Hero." She breathed harshly into the ringing silence. "Get to the room. Get to the door. Do it again."

She staggered to her feet.

----------------------------------------

It got easier.

And it got harder.

But above all, it became more bitter.

Fire. Flames and rage consumed her. She fought. She took bullets to both legs. Fire blossomed into boots of hard heat and light and thorns.

Her flames shrouded her and a chest plate formed, and pauldron embossed with Roses and thorns in searing glory.

It tanked fully automatic gunfire from rifles longer then her arm. She shook. She rocked.

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Flash Step

KI—NO!

Get to the next room

"LET ME IN" She found herself screaming. Over and over again as she twisted and spun and danced among the flames and men who got in her way. Her fists moved like tongues of fire. Her feet as light as falling ash. "I AM ROSETTE! Get them out! I — am a — Hero."

Boots of hard fire flowed down her legs again. They shrouded her feet in flames and thorns.

She took the third floor and left scattered, broken — but alive bodies in her wake. She got to the rooms. She broke those doors down.

----------------------------------------

Fourth level.

Why weren't they running. There — was the stairwell far away from her. She'd let them run... She'd le — Rosette staggered under a hail of gunfire. They'd been waiting for her on the landing this time.

Again. — CLAP

She had to breath.

More. Rosette drew on her flames. She reached deep. Deep into that ball of searing fire and fury in her chest and sent cascading vines of thorns and brilliant light curling down her arms.

I am a HERO. They. Deserve. Better. GET to the DOOR!

But every room had a door.

MOVE

FLASH

...

STEP

KIL — NO!

----------------------------------------

The top level was built into a penthouse design, two large units on either side, so Rosette chose the second one instantly. Thats where they were. She could feel it. Five men on the other side and two rooms with —

AGAIN. The room. The Door. Once more.

She charged.

Normally a shoulder charge from a girl her size would have done a whole lot of nothing to the front door, and probably would have made her crumple. But this girl had flames and FURY.

It flew inwards in a flash of sparks and the men on the other side opened fire.

AGAIN

Rosette charged. One of her gauntlets sparked with bright magic and the bullets whizzed and zinged off of the shield which expanded in front of her. It flashed. Dimmed then shattered.

Rosette took more bullets. Staggered — and juked right. Fast Corner — She leapt — Double Jump — she leapt again, juking again as some weapons managed to track her.

Flash Step — Move. She danced.

Spinning in air as her foot moved — kicking. Her fist lanced out, smashing a chin before — Arial Roll — her hand caught a wrist mid flight and her leg swept under and over the arm and around the shoulder.

AGAIN

It would have been called a flying omoplata if a normal person did it. It was called devastating when she did.

AGAIN

The man flipped. His shoulder snapped and she rolled through collecting another leg on the way. Knees bent well around one axis. They bent easily around the others.

AGAIN and AGAIN and AGAIN.

I am a HERO! Get to the door!

Solar Plexus. Neck. Head. The man fell and Rosette snatched up the pistol that fell from his fingers as she rolled by. She twisted and threw and the woman staggering to her feet took it in the temple as she moved to fight or run. Rosette didn't know. The Woman fell back and — Flash Step — it was over.

Get to the door!

Rosette was still moving. She didn't stop. She burst into the room ahead of her.

There they were. Just like all the other similar rooms in the other apartments.

They were naked. Blind folded and gagged with ropes and cuffs binding their wrists and hobbling their ankles.

There were all types here. Blond and brunettes and red heads, black skin and brown and sun-deserving white, but without fail they were leggy and young. Their captors had a profile apparently and it showed.

Some had crawled to corners and cowered. Others had found them and cowered with them seeking comfort in the warmth of people they probably didn't know and couldn't see. Others just sat there curled up against the wall with trails and trails of dirty tear tracks and crusted snot running down their cheeks and chin.

They'd all been beaten. Some had been whipped in that 'pretty' fashion some liked and —

— And Rosette couldn't see. It was all red. A haze of red rage bloomed in front of her eyes like a rose of death and the fire which had borne her this night dimmed, then flooded her.

AGAIN

It tried to burst from her finger tips, wreath her in an armor of fire and magic to slaughter the men outside. The defilers. The captors who dared to —

To visit such vengeance upon them that stories would be told of their fate. And not stop there. The broken bodies she'd left scattered in her wake. Them too... and then the people living in the lower stories, who Rosette had spared, but now she knew — they had to have known.

You can't hide this. Not this many. And the walls were not so thick that screams couldn't pass through. She knew. She'd caused plenty herself tonight.

Red. Rage. And fire. It bubbled up from her pores and tried to from rings and bracers. It snaked up her shoulder to form pauldrons and —

And Rosette did what she had at every room she'd come to this night. Rooms of crying, beaten, abused girls. Some drugged, most not, and some boys too. But mostly girls.

"I'm a Hero." She hissed through clenched teeth. And she pushed it all back down.

The Fire and rage and vengeance. Away Pauldrons. Away Gauntlets of flames and fury. Away Gloves and Greaves of thorns. Away, I say, away. Come thee back another day.

They, the girls here, did not need an avenger. They needed a Hero. So she pushed it back, back, all the way down into that little ball of fire in her soul that never died. Until the gauntlets disappeared and the light left her eyes.

She left the tiara though. Somethings needed to stay.

"Hey." She called out softly and she hoped soothingly, though she didn't know how well she managed with the rage still bubbling up her throat. "I'm here to help. I'm a Hero. I — I'm going to touch you now. And get those binds off of you."

She repeated that over and over again as she went from one to the other. "I'm a Hero. I'm here to get you out of here."

Some girls roused themselves, figured out what she was doing and moved to help pull gags from mouths and tug blindfolds off. Some just curled up in renewed shock and started sobbing. Some came up fighting and had to be talked down. "My name is Rosette. I'm here to help. I'm a Hero."

The girls came to her to break the chains, which she did in flashes of hot flame, and the words that she wanted to say never left her mouth — I'll KILL them all. Those words she tamped down deep inside herself to never utter. They didn't need that Rosette.

"Come with me," She said "Let's get out of here."

She stopped when she heard the window open.

----------------------------------------

Rosette felt every living person in the apartment complex.

Every. One.

The girls shivering and still naked behind her, the men and some women she'd left strewn throughout the upper stories, some now crawling brokenly to exits. The ones who lived below, huddled in rooms or running out the doors. She even felt a little bit of the street beyond.

This man she could not feel.

He was a black haired man, looking vaguely oriental with not too long, straight black hair, bright eyes and a pale, thin face.

He wore a black suit, undone in the front displaying a red tie and a white shirt, black pants and shiny black dress shoes completed the ensemble and his easy crouched position on the window sill completed the look.

"Hello, hime-chan." He said in a smooth, honeyed voice. "When you broke up my operation in Casper, the other night. I was certain it was a mistake, and I hold no grudges."

His black eyes panned the room slowly, taking in the men sprawled on the floor and one woman still groaning and whimpering where Rosette had left them. His eyes passed over Rosette critically, admiring her tiara — she thought — and she saw his eyes cross over to the girls cowering behind her. "This... doesn't seem like a mistake anymore."

"Return"

One word. But there was power there. It slithered through the air like a malignant snake and rushed toward — it splintered against the power of Rosette's tiara. But it wasn't a thing, so much as a wave, and she felt it push her back, flood around her... and the girls Listened.

She heard and felt them straighten up behind her and troop back into the room. One or two even started to try to put back on the restraints.

She stepped forward. Again — Made to charge, but the weight of his presence stymied her.

Rosette snarled and the fire she'd tamped down for the girls, bloomed. "Again", She hissed. "Defiler. Usurper. How dare —"

"Wait. Wait." The man said holding up a casual hand. "I don't get it. You have power here. That's obvious."

His eyes took in her tiara appreciatively and the flames licking back up her chest, arms and legs.

"Why mess with me? You think they'll love you for it? The thralls might. But it's a cold world out there for you and me."

Rosette didn't say anything, only hung on the edge of that precipice of violence and rage she'd danced along all night."

"How's this? You answer me, and I'll let you go. Most of the thralls below have already escaped. The law" — he grinned toothily — "Is arriving so you've got that going for you, and the ones who've left I won't come to collect. My word on it."

Rosette still didn't say anything, but her eyes blazed.

"I can, you know." He tapped his nose still grinning. "Why?"

"Do I need a reason to do what's right?" It came out as a hard rasp.

"You do. Tossing around men twice your size isn't easy even for me, let alone across three stories. Most of them have been on the streets for quite a while. You were taken aback by my presence but not surprised, so you knew there was a Super at the end of this race. You need a reason. A good one."

"I." Rosette hissed. "Was not given my gifts to defile and destroy the world. There isn't a better reason than that. I. Am. A. Hero. I will fight fuckers like you —"

"— That's what I'm asking! Save the diatribe. We are Gods. They are chattel. If you get your rocks off in combat, you can just say it. We are both Supers. I hold no judgment.

"Because — because I actually believe that 'with great power, comes great responsibility'." Rosette yelled. "That we can be more than base! That we can be better than what we've become! That we don't have to tear apart the world. That we. Can. HELP. People like them —" Rosette pointed behind herself — "When they need us. Because we don't have to be YOU!"

"You actually believe that shit? Believe that we are picked out? Chosen and given our powers? I say it was random." He tapped his chest with his fist. "I say, if other people got our powers, they wouldn't act any better than us! Most people are stupid, power hungry bitches, who lead their sorry little lives, in their sorry little lanes, because of the little pens society puts them into like pigs. Give them power and they'll want the girls, and the drugs and the money. Give them power and they look like us, girl."

"No."

Again — Do it again. Once more.... And her tiara unfurled. It spread down her face into a chin guard and wrapped around her head and around her ears in a helm of flames.

MORE — the pauldrons returned and the neck-guard, and fire bloomed over her chest and unfurled into a chest-plate of solid magic and flame and roses. Her backplate fell into place, and her greaves and gauntlets and bracers, and the fiery boots danced their way back around her shoes.

"I am a Hero. And those girls." Rosette pointed her thumb back behind her at the open door where even now the girls were re-blindfolding themselves, sticking gags back into mouths and re-tying themselves back up. "They're coming with me. And you. You are not touching any of them again."

She reached back and grasped the hilt of a sword that bloomed into existence for her grip, drew it and pointed the burnished orange blade straight at his chest.

"Nice." The man said. He actually did sound appreciative. "My turn." And he changed too.

He became... less, somehow.

His cheeks hollowed out and his skin lost the rest of its color. His fingers lengthened, and black claws burst from his fingers and extended inches from their tips. He stood up smoothly and as he stretched, his shadow seemed to slurp its way back into his body and was gone.

"When I am done. I will not kill you. I will simply add you to my toys. I've never owned a Super before. You'll be my favorite." He purred. "I promise".

When he moved it was fast, like flickering shadow.

When Rosette did, it was like flames given life.

----------------------------------------

The girls shuffled out first, Sobbing and covering themselves and that was probably a good thing. No one noticed Rosette.

Paramedics rushed to the victims. They were dressed in the blue and yellow emergency uniforms you always see in emergency relief, and they seized the girls with gentle fingers and kind words, and they threw blankets about them and pulled them back.

There were so many victims. And many were so young, Rosette thought. Younger than even her.

They streamed passed Rosette in a wave of hope and relief and sorrow and —

Rosette wavered where she stood and caught herself against the door frame. Her fire had banked a long time ago. Now only her tiara remained, the rose still seared into it, glowing dully on her head and shading her face. Somehow the real rose woven through her hair had survived too. What covered Rosette now was bruises — deep ones — and gashes. There was blood still dripping from her fingertips.

Her healing factor was kicking in, Rosette noticed dully. She could feel it hard at work in the background. Tomorrow, she might even be as good as new. Maybe. But not tonight.

There was a shout, and police and firefighters, who had been rearing to storm through the open doors once the stream ended backed up fast.

Weapons bristled from around vehicles. Men shouted and crouched and yelled into radios.

Some of the victims reacted. They yelled back waving newly freed hands still showing cord marks. "She saved us. She's a Hero. She's here to help —"

They were grabbed roughly and forced back behind the police line.

"Get down. Unidentified Super. Get down and put your hands on your head."

"I — I can't." Rosette wavered, almost buckling where she stood in the door frame. She couldn't. Her knees wouldn't bend. That's not... how this could work. She was Rosette. And she wouldn't be....

"Get down!"

"I — can't do that." She croaked. She didn't even know if she was audible. "I'm a Hero." She gasped. How — how should this work again? Rosette felt dizzy.

"I am a Hero." She tried again. Better. "I'm a Hero! My name is Rosette! I'm here to give a statement." Far better. Thats how it should go.

Safeties were released, Super rated weapons were adjusted in shoulders. She could feel them taking aim. See them painting her with reticles and lasers most people couldn't see with naked eyes.

"Get down! This is your last warn —"

"I'm a Hero. My name is Rosette! Let me — let me —" It wasn't going to work. They were going to....

"HOLD! Stand down!" Someone older pushed forward. He had black and silver hair, a thick mustache, body armor and it looked like he'd been running. His cheeks were puffed out and he had to take a moment to catch his breath. "Stand down. I'll have the badge of anyone who opens fire."

There was a chatter of voices into radios. Police officer shifted where they stood or kneeled by vehicles, weapons wavered. Medical personnel bundled up the victims into blankets and ambulances and pulled them back, and there was silence.

Silence....

"Miss?"

"I'm a Hero." Rosette said again into the silence. "My name. Is. Rosette. I am prepared to give my statement of tonight's events."

"That's... That's good. Very good." The officer said. He beckoned her forward. "Just step right this way, Miss and we can get you to the precinct. We can take a statement there."

Rosette was already shaking her head. No. No. This was all wrong. All of it!

The Officer sensed it and his voice hardened. "Miss, I'm going to need you to come with us to the precinct. This is procedure." His eyes roved up the side of the building. It was destroyed now, especially the upper floor. She and the other Super had burnt and blasted that story to shreds. "This looks... bad. If you come with us we can work this out."

"There were no deaths. Just injuries. And concussions... There are still victims inside. I just came out to talk to you. Please."

"Can you let us pass?"

She nodded and stepped away from the door. Several times.

The Officer waved medical professionals through and they rushed passed her in a stream, calling out and — and doing whatever it is medical professionals do when they weren't watching a showdown between a Super and law enforcement.

"There's one death." Rosette amended.

The police officer stiffened

"Top floor. I — beheaded him. He was a Super. Mind control, speed, strength. I killed him."

"Does he still look like a —"

"No. He... looks normal now."

The police officer cursed softly. "Miss," He said again. "I am begging you to please come with us. No fighting. We'll treat you fairly and professionally. Get you to the precinct. Get you some lawyers. Ask you some questions and call it a night. Please. I —" He squinted at her. I think I've got daughters your age. Please come in. We need to follow procedure."

And Rosette looked around. She saw all the guns pointed at her. The fear in most eyes. The pent up anger in some. And one or two flickers of envy.

She saw the flashing lights of the police cars, and the ambulances. The cameras and the crews the media had toted in and when she looked up she saw the helicopter casting a flood light on her high overhead, escorted by a pair of drone gunships.

She'd been here before she realized. Not her personally, but Super's had been here before. This is how it went. In a face off with law enforcement. She'd seen this episode play out before. And... She couldn't play it differently! The fire in her chest wouldn't let her... not right now. Not like this. If she did...

So Rosette looked at the Officer and with her tongue thick in her mouth, she said, "Sir. I'm beat. And I — I can't be in a room with white walls and Super rated tech. Not now. Not like this. I — can't. You're gonna need to bend, sir. One of us has got to, and... and if I bend, I break. If I bend, I can't be Rosette."

She breathed and looked up at the sky, at the moon and the stars high overhead. At the blades of the helicopter, thud thud thudding so slowly above her. And she reached deep into her chest and gave that dimming flame one, final, tug.

"But I'm one of the good guys. So if you force me, I'll run. I won't fight you. I'll disappear."

"Or, you can let me give you my statement now. I am Rosette. And I am a Hero." And she whispered softly just to the man in front of her who had daughters her own age. "Let me be that Hero. We need Heroes."

The Officer looked at her for a long time. Then he knuckled his mustache and pulled out a notepad. "Ok, Hero." He said. "Tell me what happened here.

And Rosette did.

----------------------------------------

As if in answer, the Downtown Demons of Tennessee ransacked a museum, and the Warlord in Sudan unleashed his forces and took swaths of territory, nearly reaching the capital overnight. Amaterasu stayed free, and a Dragon was seen soaring furiously overhead. Ice Age flash froze a command of English Soldiers, Legion invaded a government office, and Seraphim shook Prague with his might.

But for a moment. A brief, tenuous, wondrous moment. Like a flickering tongue of flame, like a caught spark. The image of a girl wreathed in orange magic burned itself across a nation.

There she stood. Battered, bloody, but straight backed. There was a rose in her hair, her eyes were alight and armor like burnished flame traced her limbs.

And her words were like the answer to a prayer.

"I'm a Hero. Take my statement."

There was light.