Catastrophe

Catastrophe

Okay, let me get this straight.

Being a superhero is the worst profession ever. It is tiring. It is stressful. It is messed up to the very core, and you don’t even get paid. If one day anyone or anyTHING offers you the chance to be one, RUN. Run to the opposite direction like you are being chased by a tribe of aggressive shopping teenage girls and never look back. Screw the world, who cares if it’s at stake? Your whole social and personal life is going to go upside down in every way possible. Your train of thoughts and emotions is going to become a roller coaster ride. Seriously, just run. Being a hero may sound cool, but it is a dark cold cavern that you cannot escape. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Anyway, let me introduce myself. My name is Rosaline Marinette Belle, just a normal girl with a normal life. I’m 17 and currently studying as a sophomore in Eastwood High School. Every morning, I wake up, prep myself and go to school. I’m a good student but not a memorable one. My favorite subjects are Literature and Psychology. I’m part French but I speak English and study Spanish. I go home in the evening after class and do my homework.  I help around in my family’s bookstore when I’m free, and I like reading, dancing and hanging out with my friends. I don’t have many peers but those I have are very dear to me. I also have this huge crush on a guy at school and don’t even have enough courage to ask him out. Everyday: the same boring routine. Ordinary teenage stuffs in an ordinary teenage life. However, there’s something about me that no one knows yet. Yes, you guess right: I am La Sirène, the guardian of Greenhorn City. If one day you come to our city and see a girl with blonde hair running around in fish-themed spandex – seriously, don’t ask – that’s probably me.

You see, when other girls turn 15, they get parties and dresses and presents. I, on the other hand, get a long and deep conversation with my parents, in which I discover that my mother is the descendant of the siren-themed heroin. On my fifteenth birthday, she tells me that we, the successors of the first La Sirène, are gifted with the power of illusion and charm, and that we are born hunters with voice that lures preys into our trap and makes them do our bidding. At first, it sounds to me awfully more like an ability of a villain than that of a hero. Aren’t heroes supposed to be “heroic” and not total control freaks? But my mother says that it doesn’t matter what power you had but rather how you use it. I guess it is settled then: I am going to be a superhero. In 5 minutes notice! The moment I finish transforming in to a fish, sorry, a “siren” in spandex, alarm literally breaks out right next to my door and off I go to save the world. I don’t even get to finish my birthday cake!

When I say superhero’s duties are a trying task, I’m not exaggerating. I can seriously make a list of reasons you shouldn’t be one. First, the fashion. If any of you think wearing skintight suits and fighting criminals are cool, think again. It’s hot. It’s itchy. It’s exposing without any real exposition. Overall, it’s uncomfortable in every way. Oh, and my hair turns blue. Which is super weird. The only nice thing in the whole costume is probably the necklace. It is a pretty piece of fine handicraft: The string is made of fine silver, and the pendant is a beautiful tear-shaped sapphire encircled in a fishtail that sparkles as if it has real scales. It is a family heirloom and also the source of my power: I cannot transform without it. Therefore, even though it is a precious artifact, I still have mixed feelings about it. It is the start of my trouble after all, that and my parents. Two years I’ve been wearing it, two years I’ve lead a double life. Well, that’s the second problematic aspect of being a hero: you don’t get to prepare when somebody jumps at you and breaks it into you that you will have some special talents that come with great responsibility, and you cannot even tell anyone. Think about it. You are late for class, you are running like there is no tomorrow, battling the clock to keep your attendance record. Suddenly, BAM!, a villain has to choose that particularly sensitive moment to launch a brilliantly ridiculous scheme and causes chaos on the other side of town. You have to race through streets full of unaware civilians, dodging cars and vehicles while trying to save both your and their lives. And when you’re done with the fighting and the villain either disappears in a puff of smoke or has their hands in locks and chains, class is already over.  How are you going to explain to your teacher that you are absent because you’re busy saving the city? Superhero code: No one must know about your secret identity because it can put them in grave danger and they’ll think you’re crazy. That leads to the third problem: the villains. Oh my God, don’t get me started on how annoying their supposedly witty puns and comments are. And they are also very inconsiderate. What? Do you think they’re gonna cease from trying to cause havoc across the city just because you have an important test in five minutes that you cannot miss? Or do you ever believe that they are so kind as to leave your nights alone so you can get some peaceful sleep? Or maybe they work from 9 to 5 like normal citizens? No, no, and no. They are villains, for crying out loud. They don’t care about your GPA or your college application. They don’t care if you suffer from insomnia or if your schedule is messed up because you have to clean up their mess FOR GOD’S SAKE. And they are amazingly resilient: You defeat them today, and they will bounce back tomorrow to get their butt kicked again. As annoying as they are, their determination and imagination are quite admirable.

“What about personal life?” – You may ask. Well, one thing cannot be a problem if IT DOESN’T EXIST. Like I mention before, you have to balance between your superhero ego and your everyday ego, and it is stupidly tiresome. You don’t have time for your friends or your hobbies. You skip school to protect the city. You miss your dates with your friends to save them. You are sleep-deprived  and inattentive. Your mood is swinging on the chandelier, wearing platinum wig and a gigantic bow. All in all, you don’t have a life anymore, even though you are living two lives.

However, this whole hero ordeal can be compensated with certain advantages. As bothersome as it is, being the guardian of Greenhorn City means you will get to experience the adventures that none of your friends can ever have. You will get to feel the surge of excitement coursing through your vein when you’re swinging up in the air, the wind flipping your hair like a bright golden flag. You will get to know the deep sensation as you dive into the ocean and finally understand what it's like to be a mermaid, your tail flicking and flashing in the clear blue waves. You will get to have an amazing sense of freedom, of not being afraid of any judgmental comments, of being truly who you are when you put on the scaly silver mask. The city is beautiful to look from the sky, and the energy of battles is unlike any simulation games. You will even learn to deal with stressed and deadlines with more ease once you have gotten used with the intense schedule. And there’s that one thing, that one beautiful precious thing that you’ll learn to treasure: the look of gratitude and adoration of the citizens, the innocent and kind “Thank you” of the children – more than any payment, such love from them gives you the wonderful taste of satisfaction and pride when you know that you have done it right, that you have succeeded in protecting these people. All that love, all that feelings and experiences,  might just be the reasons I choose to keep on protecting this city, keep on being a hero: their hero.

But then, there is a problem that cannot be tolerated: the partner. There is so much to talk about him I don’t even know where to start. “Do you mean the sidekick?” – You may ask. But no, calling him a sidekick does not do him justice. We are in an equally established companionship, with me being a little bit more superior, (girls’ power, right?). Right from the start, he just randomly falls face first into my life and messes up my already jumbled existence. After about a month from my sixteenth birthday, in one of my night patrols, he suddenly lands onto the rooftop of the building I am standing on. I don’t notice him at first and nearly jump off the roof when he spoke:

-          Hello Little Mermaid. – At his greeting, I give out a startled squeak and slip of the roof. (Un)luckily,  his hand shoots out and grabs me before I fall into my certain death. He grinds when he pulls me to my feet, showing his sharp cat-like canines. He winks at me in a lame flirting attempt. – Be careful there, fish cannot really fly, you know. Although a fine lady like you can pass as an angel.

I frown, eyeing him warily. He is wearing a black long-sleeved Robin Hood shirt and black pants, which renders him almost invisible in the dark. He even has a cape, and a rapier. His face is half hidden behind a black mask that look similar to the one in “The phantom of the opera”. Looking at his outfit makes me feel self-conscious: his clothes are so cool, while I look like a ballerina in sequins. Life is just unfair! Why can I have a suit like that? Wait, hold on! This is no time to feel jealous over silly costumes. I shake my head and try to focus on the guy in front of me. Who is he, this eccentric cosplayer? Is he a henchman of one of the villains? Or is he another “ambitious” antagonist of mine? Either way, if he is up to no good, he’d better be prepared to spend the rest of his life behind bars (or in the Intensive Care Unit, depending on his luck).

-          Who are you?

-          Whoa, easy there Ariel. – My frown deepens as the nickname. I hate that mermaid. – I’m not here to fish for a fight. Unless you are “felling” up to one?

-          Tell me who you are before I kick you off this roof. – I roll my eyes mentally. It has to be my luck to run into another pun thrower. How they find this incompetent display of words mastery hilarious is still a mystery to me. Well, don’t get me wrong. I’m a word player myself and quite enjoy a good trick once in a while. But I do not tolerate desperate wannabes who cannot use correct grammar.  

-          Phantom – He introduced with a dramatic bow and a sweep of an imaginary hat. His blue eyes gleaming in the dark. He holds up my left hand and kisses my knuckles. – As your service, my Princess. Your knight in shinning armor has arrived.

Let’s just say that I discover his ability to fly that very night.

After that eventful night, I have myself new shadow. A mouthy ghost who annoys me to no end with bad puns, who spends every minutes he can talk to fling me cheesy flirtations. A wanderer who has in him more grace and nobility than any princes in fairy tales, who I can trust with my life but cannot even leave him for 5 seconds without him injuring himself. The dumbest but also sweetest shadow I’ve ever seen, whose have such a liking to feline. He puts me in such a predi-cat-ment that I can’t seem to get out.  Oh great, now his stupid cat puns are clawing on me.

To be honest, Phantom is a great partner. He is strong, he is smart, he is also quite funny and charming if he wants to be, and he is reliable. With him, I can fight more freely because I know he always has my back. I trust him more than anyone else, even with our masks in the way. In fact, after a year working with him, I finally work up enough courage to let him know who I really am behind the superhero façade, which he takes with surprisingly good attitude. It turns out that we go to the same high school, with him a year older than me. We have been good friends in real life before and even better friends since. Also, I might or might not have a tiniest bit of a crush on him too. But there’s one thing about him that I cannot and will never ever forgive: he cares more about my life than his. He scares me half to death countless times when he chivalrously and recklessly takes the hits of villains for me, even though I can easily avoid them. He doesn’t seem to understand that I’d rather take a thousand wounds than see him suffering for my sake, because a flesh wound in nothing compare to the pain in my chest when I see him lying motionless on the ground. Idiot…

It is a few weeks ago. We are battling against one of my enemies’, Mr. Rodent, mutated lab rats. Even with a hero at my side, and a powerful, cat-like one he is, those ridiculously enormous beasts are starting to overwhelm us. We are covered in bruises and scratches: I have a deep gash on my right forearm from one of the creatures’ razor claw, and Phantom is limping slightly due to a rat slamming into him and knocking him onto the wall behind us. My throat hurts from excessive use of my voice power, every fiber in my body are screaming in exhaustion, and I haven’t even sung yet. When the situation seems to cannot get any worse, the rodents suddenly retreat. Learn from past experience with Mr. Rodent, I know that something terrible is about to happen. Still, those few second is enough for me to regain part of my strength – we La Sirène are quite resilient that way. A few second later, just as I expect, the earth explodes with hundred of four-paw little pests, and the villain appears with all of his ugly glory. He is absolutely not a feast to the eyes: his skin is a ratish grey; his eyes are dirty yellow with bloodshot lines littering the white; he has long, pointed face and crooked teeth, incisors long and hard like that of a rodent’s. He laughs in a manically pitchy voice:

-          La Sirène, Phantom, prepare for your destruction! It is now the year of the rat!

-          Meow-ch. – The boy beside me smirks and teases – Somebody thinks he’s the cat’s whiskers. Let’s see about that. Beside, the closest year of the rat is not until four years later.

-          When the cat’s away, the mice will play. – The villain counters (lamely, in my opinion). He waves his scepter, and sends a nest of mice in Phantom’s direction. The boy falls on his back with a grunt of surprise and pain. I mentally face palm. Gosh, I hate those clawed creatures. But if I don’t do something, Phantom might turn into rodent’s snack. He is already wounded, and testing how many bites he can stand is not an option. I sign; desperate time calls for desperate measures. I open my mouth and start to sing. As the first notes escape my throat, the mice cease their movement and start to scatter away. A few more chosen lyrics and the villain’s pests start to attack him. The grey-skinned man shrieks and waves his staff, dismissing the beasts.

With the creatures gone, Phantom gets on his feet and looks at me:

-          Why didn’t you do that earlier?

-          I can’t sing when there a bunch of mutant rats trying to attack me. Beside, we were handling just fine at that for me to use my power yet. – I look back with disbelief. He has just been squished by lab rats and that’s his concern? – Stop asking silly. We have a villain to catch.

We direct our eyes to Mr. Rodent’s. He is sitting cross-legged on a trashcan, waving his scepter spontaneously and looking throughout bored. Huh, for a guy who nearly jumps to the sky when his pets try to swarm him, he sure gains his composure quickly. The scene sends a jolt of irritation through my vein. I jump and charge at him, knowing full well that my partner is right beside me. The next few moments go like a blur. I see a blast of blinding light and a black silhouette before me, and a body slams into mine. The force of the blast knocks me off against the wall and I slid down to the ground. I hid my head pretty hard on the wall and lose my vision for a few second. When I snap out of my daze, I realize that there’s a still body above me, as if it is shielding me. Phantom! 

I gently move his body so that he is lying with his head on my laps. His eyes are closed and his mouth parts slightly, from which ragged, almost too weak breaths escape in gasps. My hand touches his chest and I yank them back in shock: The fabric of his costume is burned and torn; the black cat pin that I give him as a token of our friendship after six months working together is also singed, thankfully not fully damage. Beneath the black materials, I can faintly make out his tanned skin. Blood is oozing out from the hole on his chest and his pulse is unacceptably weak. I am worried. But more than that: I am infuriated. Stupid stupid ghost, why does he have to take that blow for me? I was careless. I deserve that blow for that. He is not a real phantom. He is not anti-matter. He matters to me. He is flesh and blood, not a spirit. He is not invulnerable, he can get hurt. Why does he have to try to save me every single time a smallest fingernail get in my way? Doesn’t he know that he is important to me? That I do not want to lose him? Have he ever thought of how I feel? About the guilt and shame and the regret if he’s gone because of me? About the emptiness and the pain? He is a part of this team, and I don’t know what to do if I lose him. I cannot lose him!

“Hey, you’re more needed in this city, Princess. I want to protect you.” – He once told me, kissing my knuckles like I was a real noble lady. I swatted his hand away like it was an annoying fly. If looks can kill, he would have probably been dead under my glare when another pun escape his mouth. – “After all, I am your knight in shinning armor. Or perhaps I may say: amor…”

You stupid stupid ghost. I don’t need a knight. I can protect myself just fine, thank you very much. I just want you by my side. If it’s not you, then who? Who is going to tell me dumb cat puns that claw my skin in side out with goosebumps? Who is going to bother me with his sappy love confession? Who is going to stick with me and have my back even though I always run straight into danger? You cannot just be there with someone for two years, making her fall in love with you and going away without even saying good bye. You stupid stupid hero!

I blink back the tears that are threatening to fall and look at the horrendous rat. He is watching us with glee in his tiny rodent eyes. I slowly and carefully rest Cat’s head on the ground and stand up to face the villain. He is going down, for good. No more mercy. No more last minute escaping. It is the last strain. This creature, this beast in human’s shape, is going to pay for what he’s done…

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

In a lovely white house in the suburbs of Greenhorn City stands a picture frame. In it, a young woman with long blonde hair is smiling at the camera, wearing her red graduation suit. She is standing on a wooden platform, probably making a speech. In another one on the wall, the same woman is singing on a stage, the spotlight illuminating her beautiful features, reflecting on her silvery gown. Her eyes are closed, and her face light up with unspoken joy. Another one shows her at the park. She is running ahead of the cameraman, her face half turning back with a laugh, her hair a gold veil. Her eyes are soft with a sweet love and adoration toward the person behind the camera. There are many more pictures of her decorating the house. But there is one photo that is kept in a special place. The only picture on the bedside table of the master bedroom. The picture that the owner of the place wakes up to see every morning: The selfie picture of a girl in a silver mask and a boy in a black mask, with their arms around each other’s shoulders, laughing happily at the camera…