Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

It's been almost two months since the shooting in the church and I am thankful that I am finally off of the news cycle. New developments kept coming up with the man that tried to shoot the place and every time I turn around my fake name is being plastered on TV. Every time I see it, I have to sit there and watch to make sure that there is no way people would figure out who I am. I didn't do that for attention or because I wanted to be a hero, I did it because I knew at that moment, I was most likely the only person standing in-between that man and the hundred-plus people in the church.

"Zana, you are going to be late!" T scolds me as I grab my bag.

"I'm not going to be late," I say grabbing my coat and tossing it on.

"Go already, these tests are important," she says practically shoving me out of the door.

"Yeah, yeah," I grumble jogging down the stairs and over to the testing center.

T had helped me arrange to get fee waivers, so I could take the tests for college without having to pay the ridiculous amount of money to do it. I have already taken the one twice and I am taking the second test for the first time and this would be my last one. I did pretty well on the first two, enough that I would be able to get something in terms of a scholarship, but I figured I would take the other test because it has a different format.

Walking into the testing center, I feel the energy drained out of me as I sit down and take the three-hour test. When I finally leave, I am so brain dead I don't even notice where I am walking into a bump into someone.

"Sorry," I say surprised and I see the girl with the red hair.

"It's fine," she says before walking away.

I still haven't found the guts to talk to her at lunch, but she continues to sit at my table. She had slowly stopped hunching over her food as much. She still eats with her head down, but she didn't look like she was practically lying on her food anymore.

I take the long way home, enjoying the chilly breeze. It helps me wake up some. A big gust of wind comes and hits me and the people around me and I smile and tug my scarf over my nose. Walking further into the city I stop in front of the store with all of the TVs. I see breaking news pop up and there is a standoff going. Looking closer chills run down as I see maybe four police offers standing in the way of the man with the silver hair. Glancing at the building I recognize it as the same building he robbed all those months ago.

I don't feel my feet hitting the pavement as I run towards the intersection. My brain stalls for a moment as I try to process this reaction I am having. People bump into me as they run in the other direction, away from the crazy man with a gun. This is his public debut, nobody else knows that he is the one who stole that fancy metal from the science institute. Running up behind him, I see the police officers with their shields up, but they know they are no match for him. Sirens wail in the distance and I can hear them talking.

"Put the gun down and we won't shoot!" The one officer screams.

They wouldn't and couldn't open fire, people are still clearing out of the area and they would cause more damage than good. The man is clearly focused on getting into that building and nothing else. He isn't here for a mass shooting, at least not right now.

The police raise their guns and their eyes lock on me as I run in front of them. I hear their screams as he opens fire on me, six bullets clip me before he stops firing. Locking eyes with the silent man I can see him trying to figure out why I didn't get hurt. Stepping forward I place my hand on the barrel off the gun. It burns for a moment before my hand hardens.

He looks down at me confused before dropping the gun. He swings a hand at me, and I sidestep and raise my fist and nail him the ribs. My hand crystallizes on impact and shocks stun my arm. He had absorbed the metal and was protecting his rib cage with it. The sirens are approaching, and he knocks me to the ground before taking off. The officers take off after him and I slowly push myself to my feet, keeping my scarf around my face. I run in the opposite direction of the chaos as the chopper turns its camera away from me and attempts to follow the man.

I duck down a few alleys and try to release the energy, it has become easier and I have been able to start channeling the energy, so I don't blow massive holes in all of my clothes, I know that made T happy because she didn't need to keep buying me new ones. Going back to the apartment, as I stick my key in the door, the door rips open and a very angry T is standing there.

"Hey T," I say trying to be casual, but she yanks me inside and pushes me onto the couch.

"What were you thinking?!" She screams at me and I smile sheepishly. I wasn't.

"That was the man who shot me and stole the metal," I say but that didn't explain my behavior.

"You intervened in police business! Do you know what people are saying about you? You went from being the hero who saved the church to the idiot who let that man escape!" T screams pointing towards the TV.

She sits down next to me, still raging, but we watch the news as they replay the footage over and over again. Looking down at my jacket, I see it is now riddled in bullet holes, as are the rest of my clothes. Feeling the one spot, I pull the bullet out of my bra surprised. Looking at it, I could tell it isn't made of a normal metal. Turning it over I keep spinning it around in my hand while listening to the newscasters call me a stupid child who interfered with official police business. A lot of the viewers are polling in on what they should call me, and the poll says Pyrite; fool's gold.

Rolling my eyes at the news, I grab the patching kit T bought and start fixing my coat. Stabbing myself with the needle a few times, I watch as baby crystals, the size of a dot form on my finger. I brush them off easily and continue to sew as T calms down.

"I don't care what the media thinks of me T, they turn on anyone at the drop of a dime. What I care about is saving people," I say seriously, and she doesn't answer for a while.

"Zana you shouldn't have intervened in that instance," T says calmly.

"The bullets in his gun weren't normal, they would have gone through their shields and killed them all," I say handing her the bullet. She rolls it over in her fingers.

"You couldn't have known that before you hopped in front of that gun," she says.

"I didn't, but I wouldn't take it back," I say seriously, and I can feel her analyzing me.

"It never gets any easier watching you jump in front of something so dangerous," she says with a sigh.

"It doesn't get easier to do," I admit.

I had done a lot of small things recently, saved some people from a whole row of townhouses being lit up, there was the robbery at the deli I stopped, a few muggings I intervened on. I never left home without a scarf at this point and most people can't see more than my eyes, which is helping me keep my identity a secret. A lot of people still think I am a guy, which helps my case.

"Pyrite is such a spiteful name," T says.

"Once I get back into their good graces, they'll probably change it," I say not even phased.

"How do you care so little about this?" T asks me confused and I couldn't help the bitter smile I have.

"You do realize that everyone in my high schools shunned me for the last three years because I wore the same two pairs of clothes and occasionally smelled, right? If I cared what everyone thought of me, I probably would have just dropped out completely," I say.

"I'm glad you didn't," she says resting her head on my shoulder as I continue to sew.

"I'll go and buy you some news clothes tomorrow," she says.

"This bra is shot, and the shirt is torn too much, but the coat will be fine. I apologize for constantly ruining my clothes," I say.

"It's just a part of you," T says.

T and I had an unspoken agreement that I would work at the shelter three or four days a week, and the money that she would be paying me goes towards paying for food and clothes. It was my way of trying to earn my keep but still, keep my grades.

"I think the shelter finally got approved for some more funding," T says after a long pause.

"Oh?"

"I've been pestering the company that helps run the shelter for more funds for the last two years and we are going to get an additional thousand dollars a week. I will be buying a lot more blankets and buying more food as the money comes in," T says happily.

"I'm glad to hear that," I say smiling.

T goes to bed early and I am thankful for that, I don't want her to know what I was going to do tonight. Grabbing one of my patched shirts, I throw it on over the torn one and wrap my scarf around my face. Carefully closing and locking the door behind me, I leave the building out the back way and make my way over towards the building. Staring at the sign on the building, it reads I.E.I, and I finally know the name of this blasted place. Walking around towards the back, I sit down on the back road. Looking around everything is quiet, and I can see a camera, but I know it can't see me being covered all in black and with the awful lighting.

The silver hair is a bit of a giveaway, especially at night when it is particularly vibrant. I wonder if it dyes it that color of it is naturally that color. Does he wear contacts as well or was he just born a mutant? If he does wear contacts and his hair isn't naturally that color, I give him props for trying to fit the aesthetic of a villain.

"You're back already?" I call out to him slowly standing up. His head whips towards me in surprise, he wouldn't be able to get to the door without getting past me.

"Why are you here?" He asks me, and his voice is just as scratchy as I remember.

"I could ask you the same question," I say casually.

"I'm not some dumbass villain who is going to tell you his whole evil plot," he growls.

"I would be disappointed if you did," I say.

"Get out of my way," he says stepping closer. His hand flexes and tightens around his handgun.

"Trust me the bullets in there aren't going to hurt me," I say casually.

"What are you?" He asks me in a less menacing voice.

"Once again, I could ask you the same thing," I say thinking of the way he absorbed a light post.

"I need to get inside, now move," he says walking over towards me, but I stay very much in his way.

"Stop being such a child, this isn't some game! I will kill you," he says frustrated.

"You can try," I say calmly, and he growls at me before shooting me once.

This shirt already has a few patches in it anyway, so I am not even phased. The bullets do hurt more than normal, and he hits the one spot I couldn't get to release earlier, and it hurts a lot as the crystals crack and reform. He continues to hit that spot over and over again until a large lump is visible under my shirt.

"How are you not dead?" He spits out.

I can't respond because the energy building up is too much. The cracking starts slowly before the crystal lump explodes. I am sent back at least ten feet; it takes me a second to gain my bearings. Looking around quickly, I see him at the other end of the alleyway. He flips me the bird before disappearing. How childish.

I stay in the alleyway for hours and don't go home until the wee hours of the morning. I barely get more than an hour of sleep that night, but I am thankful for the fact that that man didn't get whatever he was looking for in that building. I can't do that every night, but I knew he would come back that evening.

Even superhero's have to take standardized tests? LOL

Cc