Prism: Looking for an Angel
Part One
"You guys go find the kid. It's just the Shaw skank."
Jordan stood resolutely in a cobblestone courtyard of a small, churchlike private school, facing a supervillain she vaguely recognized as "Phantom". She watched with gritted teeth as his companions fled down an adjacent hallway, then narrowed her eyes again on the obstacle in her path.
"Let's not waste each other's time. I have a standing appointment."
"Abortion?" he asked, eliciting a smirk.
"Haircut. And I -"
"Such gentlemanly manners," she sneered, and by the time she had staggered to her feet, Phantom had split into three and charged her - but Jordan was ready this time. She covered herself in an adamantine sheath of light as the clones stormed her, and she heard a grotesque crack as Phantom - one of him, at least - broke his hand against her skin. She snickered as the Phantoms merged back into one, howling in pain and massaging his bleeding hand.
"You BITCH!" he roared.
"A title I wear with pride." Jordan aimed a finger gun at the villain. "Now, are you going to let me past?" Phantom glared in response and Jordan felt a small tinge of panic as he split into what looked like dozens of copies, forming a circle around the edges of the courtyard with her at its center. She regained her composure straight away and snarled, "Fine."
As the clones rushed her, she clapped her hands together, releasing a sonicboom as well as a chaotic, kaleidoscopic light show that blinded and stunned her antagonists. "Anyone?" she repeated into her radio, then she took advantage of their disorientation and ran for the exit, but fell forward as a hand closed around her ankle. Before she could even hit the ground she was uppercut from the front, pummeled from all sides, and though an explosion of energy granted her temporary relief, Phantom resumed his assault instantly. He seemed not to care how many clones maimed themselves against her steely skin, and though her shield rendered her invulnerable, she was not immovable. She felt herself lifted into the air by several duplicates, then tossed like a ragdoll towards the building's brick wall.
CRACK.
Jordan crumpled to the floor with a gasp of pain and watched her shield evaporate as the Phantoms closed in. "I...lost," she thought, and prepared for the onslaught, closing her eyes as a shadowy figure descended over her.
Part Two
Jordan opened her eyes slightly when she woke, but clenched them shut instantly against the bright fluorescent lights. She deduced, from the sterile air, her pounding headache, and occasional electronic beeps, that she was in a hospital and, not ready to face that reality just yet, decided to try and go back to sleep.
"You're awake?" Jordan started and discovered she was not alone in her room. Her eyes were drawn momentarily to the man's large, feathered wings before she drew herself up and stared him down. "Can I help you?" She was shocked by how strained her voice sounded.
"Probably not, in that state, no." She noted a vague trace of an Irish brogue and, despite her alarm and indignation, did not fail to recognize her companion was very attractive. His shirt was tantalizingly tight around his arms, and he had the sort of casually windswept hair that Jordan herself worked so hard to attain. As much as she wanted to do battle, her weakness threatened to overpower her, and she closed her eyes and adjusted herself in bed. "Is there a reason you're watching me sleep?" she mumbled.
"Making sure you're okay." Jordan frowned. "Look, if you are a manic superfan, I appreciate the support but I must tell you my lawyer is well-versed in restraining orders..."
"Not quite." His disarmingly troubled tone caught her off guard, and she turned to observe him more closely. "I heard your call on the scanner. I got you out and brought you here. I'm sorry," and he genuinely looked it, "that I didn't find you sooner." He looked solemnly at her as he spoke, and in spite of the content, there was an easy, relaxed confidence to his speech. Jordan caught herself staring before trying to brush him off.
"Thank you, I suppose." She turned away and closed her eyes emphatically. "I'm sure I'll see you around." She was surprised to hear him give a soft chuckle in response.
"You don't have to perform for me."
"Excuse me?"
"The ice queen act. I don't buy it." Jordan sat up, affronted and ready to spar, but saw his eyes were sparkling and he was grinning at her. Oh, for God's sake, she thought to herself, even his smile is gorgeous. She tried to pull herself together.
"Weren't you all torn up about nearly letting me die?"
"Yeah, but I think I'm over it." She accidentally let herself laugh at that, which was followed by a piercing pain in her ribs. She winced and placed a hand over her abdomen until it subsided and she caught her breath; she noticed that the man had stood up and moved closer to her with an expression of genuine concern. He was very tall and moved with a grace that belied his size.
"Fine. You can stay." She reclined into the bed, still dazed from the pain. "Now go fetch me a stiff drink." He smirked again, and she wanted simultaneously to ogle him and punch him in the face.
"I'll see what I can do." He turned to leave. "I'm Rowan. I already know who you are." As he left the room and turned down the hallway, Jordan lay back in bed and sighed in frustration. Fuck me.
Part Three
"So let me ask you a question," Rowan said as Jordan dabbed powder on a fading black eye. She had been in the hospital a week and her wounds - to her body and her pride - had not yet healed. Evidence of her extended stay was all over the room - dozens of magazines, two large suitcases, and spotless satin sheets on the hospital bed.
"Yes," she replied distractedly, "they're real." Rowan raised his eyebrows in response. "A serious question. But thanks for clarifying." Jordan answered only with a noncommittal grunt.
"Why do you do what we do?"
The gravity of his question disarmed her, but she made sure her face gave nothing away as she studied her reflection in her hand mirror. Going home to sleep excepted, Rowan had been by her side since her rescue, and - surprising even herself - Jordan had begun to let her guard down. She had made some quip about how anyone who'd seen her in a hospital gown knew all her secrets already, but she knew she was starting to get attached. Deeply attached.
She must have remained silent too long, for Rowan added: "I just mean you don't strike me as the 'one for all' type." She smirked bemusedly, but grew serious again.
"I never used to," she confessed, and tried not to notice his puzzled expression. She paused again. "To be honest, I was on...the other side, for a while."
"Really," he nodded, and she flashed a small, rare smile. She knew he wanted to know more, but he would never push her - and it occurred to her how nice it was to talk to someone who wasn't hounding her for personal details. She looked at him plainly.
"Yes, and I'm not going to pretend I regret all of it, or that I would never go back," she said matter-of-factly. She could not tell if she imagined him wincing or not, but carried on regardless. "I knew what I was doing and I enjoyed it. The dark side has its merits."
"So why did you stop?"
She scowled at the wall. "We went too far." She hoped it was clear from her tone that the conversation was over - and to her relief, he did not say anything else. She attempted to break the silence:
"Not something you'd find on my Wikipedia page." Rowan laughed, not entirely convincingly, but it was something.
"It was a past life. I'm one of the 'good guys' now," she said with mock disdain. He smiled a little wider.
"And that was 60 Seconds with Jordan Shaw." He was full-on grinning now, and Jordan felt the familiar sensation of wanting both to hit him and plan their winter wedding. He stood up and moved towards the door. "I'm gonna grab us lunch."
"Now wait, I have a question for you," she jeered."
"What's that?"
"How big is it?"
