Prodigy, Jane Smith, shot over the skies of the city with a smile on her face. Flying was such a tremendous rush for her, despite the fact that she had to use technological means to achieve it. Her long blonde hair whipped around her face as she flew along the tops of the skyscrapers and high-rise apartments. It was early evening and so far this evening in Angel Falls had been relatively quiet. The weather was fantastic and perhaps even the criminal elements were enjoying the beginning of the Spring season. Since starting her patrol, thus far, she had first moved one automobile out a traffic altercation that was blocking up an intersection. Apparently some taco vendor was in a big hurry and smashed into the side of some poor guy's Fiat. She flew down, made sure everyone was alright and moved the damaged vehicles to a lot where they could be towed easily. She hoped for...was it Robert? She hoped for Robert's sake that other guy wasn't uninsured at best and here illegally at worst. Then she had broken up what could have become an altercation in front of prominent nightclub. Several rowdy imbeciles had been thrown out and the drunken idiots decided they were going to beat their way back inside. Jane smiled, thinking back on how she let that first big, intoxicated spook take the first swing at her and break every bone in his hand. After that the others crawled back to their holes and she stayed for a few drinks and pictures. For the last thirty minutes or so though she had gotten to enjoy the warm night air as she flew out across the skies alone.
It had been a few months since she had started down this new road, this new persona and so far she was beginning to think she was pretty damned good at it. The press still hounded her and the other libtard heroines that made this their home wouldn't cut her any slack...part of her didn't ever expect them to. Part of her understood. She had done some terrible, reprehensible things in her past. Things that were best left buried and forgotten. The future was what was truly important and what she made of her legacy, the legacy handed down to her by a great man, her father. What would he think if he could see her now? Would he be proud of her and what she was trying to accomplish...would he abhor what she had become? Would he have understood, better than anyone, that sacrifices had to be made and she had been the one to make them? It was hard to know what he would think anymore. Part of her remembered him as her father, a loving devoted man who gave his all for his family and for his country. The other part of her remembered him as a soldier who gave no quarter and for whom mistakes cost people lives. He was like a rock: Immobile and unshakable in his beliefs. She was probably the only person that saw the other side to him, the human side behind the legend that was the American Hero. The side that cut her pancakes up for breakfast. The one that read her stories by the fire as he smoked his pipe and dried her tears when she fell down, picking her back up to her feet. The one that was taken from her.
The sound of gunshots in the street below took her attention away from her memories. It was only then that she realized she had been crying. Jane Smith dove downwards towards the cracks of what sounded like multiple handguns. Large caliber. Descending to street level took only a few seconds and from there it only took a few seconds to see what was transpiring. Two hooded men where robbing a local pawn shop. They burst out of the doorway almost as her boots hit the pavement. One of them was making their way towards an idling sedan parked out in front. The other one was carrying a bag full of presumably stolen merchandise and cash and turned to make sure no one was pursuing them as they exited the premises. Cries and sobs from inside the pawn shop told her that someone, probably the owner or one of his security, was hurt or dead. Prodigy immediately darted across towards the car, using a burst of her hypersonic speed. Within fractions of a second she was on top of the car and the other armed robber. The man's eyes went wide as the costumed amazon suddenly appeared in front of his getaway vehicle and he took a few faltering steps backwards. Jane smirked before punching her hand downwards through the engine block. Oil and fluids gushed out of the bottom along with shattered remnants of the car's motor. The hood directly in front of her thought fast, tossing his gun away from himself and pulling off his mask. His sweaty, panic-stricken face was that of a young man barely out of his teens.
"I...I didn't shoot anyone!" the man stammered. "I give up!"
The man's partner apparently had no intention of giving up so easily. He fired off a few rounds that struck Prodigy full in the chest and fell to the ground, crumpled and useless. .45 caliber slugs. Jane put her hands on her hips and yawned at his effort. The other man flinched and fell to the sidewalk, covering his head with his hands.
"Stop shooting Roger, don't you know who this is?" the face-down man yelled backwards at his partner, his voice desperate and high-pitched.
"Yeah..." the other man replied back as he took a few quick steps backwards towards the entrance to the pawn shop and rushed inside.
Jane growled and strode towards the doors. Someone always had to make this harder than it was. As she moved past him, she pointed a finger at the other man. "Move and I'll come back out here and break both your fucking legs."
The man nodded hurriedly and continued to lay on the sidewalk as she made her way into the pawn shop. Sure enough, her appraisal of the situation was sadly accurate. Inside, surrounded by members of his distraught and anguished family, Middle-Eastern by the looks of them, lay the owner. A middle-aged man, he was propped up against one of the glass counters, streaks of crimson running down their fronts and his shirt was unbuttoned, spattered with blood. Two bullet wounds in his chest told her that he was long past needing the assistance of an ambulance. A father by the looks of it. The other robber had meanwhile taken hold of one of his relatives, a young girl in her teens and was using her as shield, his handgun pressed firmly up against her temple. A daughter perhaps? Jane stopped walking and glared at the man as he and his terrified hostage took a step backwards.
"This is how this is going to work Jane Smith
," the snide killer began, "yeah I know all about you. You're gonna turn and walk out that fuckin' door and fly away and me and my hostage here are going to leave. Or she dies. She dies and you can have that on your fucking head!"
Jane chuckled and took a step in the direction of the murderer and his hostage. "If you really know me, then you know I'm not going to let you just walk away from all this."
Agitated, the man pressed the gun harder, hard enough to leave a bruise in the young girl's flesh. "Try me then. You want to be a fucking hero so bad, you try me and I'll burn all your chances with this one dead girl. She and I are walking out of here together and leaving or she dies and then you have nothing!"
"I'd still have you sugah," Jane replied, showing off her teeth like a shark, "and if you claim to know me so well, then what the hell do I care what you do to that towel-headed, terrorist in training? Go ahead and shoot her and save me the trouble of having to kill her myself in a few years. Or better yet, shoot her so she doesn't have to live covered head to toe in a black sack, chewing her future husband's food for him before he goes and blows up a building full of children. Either way, she doesn't matter to me and I still get you."
"I mean it, I'..."
Jane took another step forward, growling. "Go ahead then. Don't be a fucking pussy, shoot that girl. Don't point a gun at someone if you aren't prepared to fire it, that's something my daddy taught me. This generation is full of nothing but empty fucking promises!"
The room was eerily quiet for a long moment. Even the girl's family had stopped their wailing and imploring and simply stared at the situation unfolding before them. The hostage was starting to panic, her breath quickening as she looked at her would-be-savior with wide, terror filled eyes. The robber's eyes had that same look, like that of a cornered animal. He was weighting his odds and was increasingly unsure about his hold over the situation. Jane however simply stood her ground and smirked at the man, cracking her knuckles on both hands like tiny little explosions in her fists. After what felt like an eternity, the man held up his hands and let the girl go. For a moment she stood their, bewildered, before rushing over to her surviving family members who grabbed a hold of her and pulled her close. Jane's eyes cut over to them briefly before cutting back to the killer. The man dropped his gun and kicked it over to the muscular woman dressed in the red, white and blue.
"You win." he said in a quivering voice. "I surrender."
Jane bent down and picked up the .45. It was still definitely loaded and the safety was off. Without taking her eyes off the man with his arms raised up she walked over towards the family of the man who had been killed and whose daughter had been threatened with death.
"Call the police," she started, "tell them that one suspect is in custody out front and that the other one...well I'll let you decide what to tell them about the other one."
With that she handed the gun to the stunned girl and locked eyes with her. There was a moment were Jane truly envied this young Middle-Eastern girl with all her heart.
"Just remember not to point that at anyone you don't intend to shoot." Jane Smith said in her thick Georgian accent as she stepped outside of the establishment and back into the streets.
Prodigy won my poll so here's what you get! See your vote does
This render was created as gift for me by the highly skilled and amazingly friendly,
Jane Smith/Prodigy as well as the story are my creations and property.
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