[X]Glory, Glory Halleluia
--Attempt to get Glory Girl's attention. After all, her whole family are heroes, and maybe her sister can do something about the freakish changes that happened to you between getting stuffed in your locker and now.
Total Votes: 20
-[x] Stunt: You crouch behind one of the intact units on the roof, hugging yourself, as you let all the confusion and fear you've been experiencing since your awakening show. "Hello." You call out. "Please, I need some help. I don't know what's going on." You let your emotions pour into your voice as you begin to cry. "I just woke up and now I look like a monster. Please. Help me!" (2-die stunt! <3)
ooo
It...it was over. Oni Lee had fled. Sagging with relief, you experienced a brief disorientation that sent you falling onto your butt on the rooftop. He wasn't going to kill you. You...you'd won. Or close enough, any way. Taking deep, slow breaths, you fought to master your racing pulse, the welling panic that threatened to overwhelm any semblance of rationality and thought. Oni Lee was one of the most-wanted capes in the city. One of the most dangerous people in the state. And you'd won. Well, survived, really. But against someone like that? Survival was a victory in itself.
Drawing in on yourself, you forced your way to a wobbling stand. For a moment, you contemplated running again. You didn't want people to see you like th is. You were a freak, a hideous thing, a monster. You didn't want the heroes near here to see you like th at. Like you were a rabid beast to be put down. Another villain, another monster for the birdcage. And you knew it didn't look good. Though most of him had burst into ash, the Oni Lee clone which had exploded all over your gifted clothes had left conspicuous blood-stains on your borrowed, ill-fitting garments. Still, as little as the idea of them seeing you and assuming you were a threat to be put down appealed, you knew you couldn't run. That would only make things worse.
So you forced yourself to move, slinking over to crouch behind one of the still-intact climate control units. As you wrapped yourself in a tight hug, knees pulled in to somewhere just above head level, you tried to draw their attention. You couldn't help it; the confusion, fear, pain, and bewilderment you'd been experiencing ever since your awakening tinged your voice. "Hello?" Your call was plaintive, hurting, and an undercurrent of desperation threatened to drown the whole. "P-p-please? I...," you shuddered and hugged yourself tighter in a manner that had nothing to do with the cold, "I need help! I-I...I d-don't know what's...what's...I don't know what's going o-on." Your voice cracks on that last syllable, your voice going hoarse, rasping a moment. Though you clench your eyes tightly shut, you can feel the burn of unshed tears.
Mom, Emma, Dad. So much loss in so short a time. And now. Now, when you get what you'd dreamed of for as long as you can remember wanting anything, becoming a cape, life finds a way to twist the knife even further. You were one. But you were a freak, a monster, a creature that didn't even look human any more.
The flood of emotion overwhelming all reason suffuses your voice as you cry out, "I just...just woke up and," hot tears carve molten trails down your cheeks, "and I l-l-look like a," you sob, a wracking, pained thing. "Like a m-m-m-monster-her-errr!" You're wailing by the end, but you can't help it. Months, years of pain held behind a tightly controlled dam have finally spilled over, and the flood that results permits no control, no caution, no dignity in it.
You're startled to silence when a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around you, pulling you into a close hug. You freeze momentarily at the contact. When it doesn't relent, you unfold your limbs from around yourself and clutch tightly to the person offering you comfort. Shame, image, things like that take a distant back-seat to the raw emotional needs of the moment as you sob, you weep, you cry piteously, clinging to the person before you in desperation. You don't can't care about the judgment you might face from others right now. Your entire world was eviscerated, and for years you didn't let yourself admit the pain you felt at that. You can't hide that now.
Eventually, you find you've cried yourself out. The person holding you goes to give your head a pat, freezing mid-gesture as their hand touches your apparently bare scalp. "S-sorry," you manage to finally mumble. They rub your scalp in the approximation of ruffling your hair anyway. As you come back to your senses, you catch the tail end of a soothing, crooning song which the mental voice from before had been singing. Your eyes still closed, you send a mental pulse of gratitude to Joyous Uncertainty, even if you still aren't convinced they're real. If they're a hallucination, at least they're one that doesn't hate you. Finally forcing your eyes open, you start to realize that Glory Girl, the Glory Girl, is the one that's been holding you and helping you through your overemotional outburst.
Sniffling, you pull back, arms unfolding from around her. Horrified by the trail of snot from her shoulder to your nose, you offer up a murmured, "Dhorry. God snod all ober your cosdume." She laughs at that, shaking her head. "Hey, don't worry about it. It's had worse on it before." You feel the intense urge to apologize again, after all, she's a hero. A real hero, who helps people on a daily basis. And you dirtied up her uniform, as it were.
Rolling her eyes, she stands, offering you a hand to get up. Accepting it, you unfold yourself up to your full nine-foot height. She blinks at that, then shrugs. A cocky smile splits her features. She again offers you a hand. "Ready to get out of here?" Her tone's an invitation. You start to nod, then pause.
"I...can I do one thing first?"
Looking up at you, Glory Girl meets your eyes with a weighing gaze, then she nods. "Sure. What do you need?"