The Velocity rebound [Closed for Ambrosia_64]

Dirtydave1974

Literotica Guru
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New York is bigger than one person. It’s not like Metropolis or Gotham, where one man, one hero, can characterise an entire city. Metropolis is like Superman, a place of hope and light, leading the way culturally, technologically and commercially. Gotham, like Batman, is a city of gargoyles and shadows. A reminder that Justice can be found even in the darkest and dirtiest cities. New York lives in the grey area between the two, which is why I love and hate it so much.

New York is a hard place. You can achieve the American Dream, but no one is giving you a hand up. You gotta earn it, however you can. We are too many people thrown and smooshed together, living and arguing on top of each other. New Yorkers don’t need hope or justice, we make our own way.

Except, we weren’t always this hard. There were heroes we looked up too. The Home grown type that could be counted on to look out for the little guy.

Not me, obviously. I’ve always had a different agenda, but there was her, Velocity.

We had our differences. I stole stuff on her watch, and she saw to it I did time, but we also helped each other when we needed. When some evil fuckers wanted to hurt the innocent. I’m not the only one who fell in love with her. She was that kind of girl. Too good for any of us. Certainly too good for a worthless gumshoe like me. She was something special. A real hero, not some god like being or vigilante. She was someone good.

Which is why it broke my heart when they found her lying in that alley. Her bloody, bent and broken body lay crumpled beneath some dumpsters, which was leaking an unidentifiable fluid onto what was left of her face. Rats chewed at her fingers. A small pool of blood leaked from where her left leg had been. They pick up the garbage from that dumpster every Thursday, so god know how long her body lay there.

I grew a little harder that day. A bit colder. Perhaps a little afraid of what might be hiding deep in the bowels of the city waiting for me. I think we all did.

Superman spoke at her funeral. I didn’t know they knew each other. It didn’t seem right him speaking for her. He’s not from around here. He’s not a New Yorker. I sat up the back and watched it all. After they put her in the ground, I drove to a storage unit and hid my coat, body armor, mask and all my gadgets. I was done with the whole cape and tights thing. I was done with going out there and trying to make a difference when no one gives a shit. What could I do? New York is bigger than one person.


Five Years later….
 
“Four time armed robbery suspect Martin Lynnstock was arrested after attempting to rob a convenience store in upper Manhattan last night-after being stopped by what witnesses described as a blue blur-video footage of the incident was obtained and-”

The news anchor prattled on while the grainy but full color video played on screen-it was even grainier than usual as it was isolated from a display that had originally had four screens. The video showed an armed man wearing a dark green balaclava and a heavy leather coat with a gun on a middle aged Chinese woman, her hands shaking as she emptied the register. The man’s body language became more aggressive and he appeared to be shouting at the woman-one minute he was leaning over the counter, towering over her-and the next there was a swirl of shimmering blue to his left and he was on the ground with his jacket yanked down around the elbows and zipped up tightly, pinning his arms to his sides.

The woman blurred into view just long enough to pop the magazine from the pistol and set it on the counter-and then she was gone, nothing more than her back having been caught on tape.

She was wearing that shimmering blue costume with the silver accents. It was made of a thicker, heat resistant material that allowed for modesty despite the close fitting nature of it, made to withstand intense friction. Silver gloves and boots. She had had dark hair, though it wasn’t in the usual ponytail-but shorter, not even brushing her shoulders, a tousled, windswept look to it. A matching blue mask extended from her hairline to her cheekbones, caught only for a moment in the blurry footage when she turned her head to set the pistol down.

Velocity had returned.

Or at least, that’s what the speculation was. Heroes had been reincarnated before, brought back from the dead. Had it happened to the speedster, all these years later?

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Jenna Paige was late, again. A transfer student who had finally gotten into her dream school on scholarship, she was ecstatic-but also less than organized, here and there. She was still getting used to Columbia University’s campus-it was huge! She hardly felt like she belonged there, or that she was living anything less than a dream in being able to attend the prestigious private college-one of the top in the country, the world.

And she was here on scholarship. Yes, maybe she was dreaming.

And last night-! Best not to think about that right now, actually- the slim woman darted down the hallway at her previously normal speed-which was hard when she knew she could go so much faster. She wasn’t the largest of women-she’d gotten lucky, was taller than her mother thanks to her father’s side of things-but not by much. She had a dusky, light brownish skin tone and almond shaped, dark eyes with the epicanthic folds and flatter bridge of her nose that spoke to her Asian heritage-in this case, her mother was from the Phillipines. Her dark hair was cut into a short style that fell well above her shoulders, slight waves and loose curls to the tousled, shiny locks, a fringe of bangs partially swept to the side. Today the twenty year old-twenty one in a month!- was wearing a knee length, tiered skirt in a rose mauve color, black tights and light brown ankle boots to match her beige colored, tucked in button up blouse. A cute, colorful little flower pin, some thrift store find she thought might be lucky was pinned over her right breast pocket.

A canvas shoulder bag served as her backpack, filled with way too many books, notebooks, and a binder, the straps cutting into her shoulder a little painfully.

Jenna finally found her classroom, slipping through the door just before the T.A. locked it for the professor’s lecture-finding a seat in record time at the side of the room but near the front. Just in time! Not the best first impression-but just in time!

With a happy sigh, she unpacked a notebook and pen and began to jot down notes in her Business Law class.
 
Professor Hans Tranz watched the double doors to the lecture theatre open. A stream of students bubbled into the room and flowed down the tiered seating before finding their spots. Adjustable desk tops were adjusted, Lap tops opened, bags were shoved away and a soft murmur of chatter filled the room while the students waited for his lecture to start.

Tranz watched them all, a smile tugging at the corners of his thin lips and his blue eyes sparkling behind his wire rimmed glasses. The last of the students were settling when he rose from his desk next to the podium and dimmed the lights

The title of the lecture appeared on the projector: Sex sell, the art of subliminal advertising
“Welcome students,” Tranz said, “I hope you are well. Before we start-“

The double doors to the lecture theatre burst open and a small attractive Asian girl hurried into the room. Tranz shot her a withering look as the late comer found a spot near the front of the class.
“Thank you for joining us Miss….”

He waited until she had given him her name before returning to his lecture, and then she was forgotten.

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, before we start we will open with a brief meditation exercise to promote maximum learning and receptiveness.” The announcement was met with a chorus of groans, but Tranz dismissed them. “Indulge me. Pens down, phones off and lap tops closed. “

He turned to his desk and activated the sound system. Mozart played from the speakers on his desk bouncing off the acoustic panels and washing over the young adults, like a soothing blanket.

“Now, you will close you eyes…” For the next five minutes Tranz paced back and forth across the teaching area as he led his students through a series of breathing and meditative exercises.

Once complete he began the lecture talking to the students about the power of sex within a marketing context, how it was important to identify the customers desires, overcoming their fears and inhibitions so they would be encouraged to buy what they needed most.

No one noticed that he never turned the music off, or the hypnotic tune playing beneath the music opened their minds to suggestion and influence. After each slide a series of subliminal images flashed in quick succession faster than the eye could perceive pushing their message directly into his students brains:

No shame
A pornographic image of a women in a position of submission
No authority but mine
Sex is good
Obey me
You feel lust
Another image of a scantily clad women, a scantily clad man
Desire
Want me
No inhibitions
Obey me


Fifteen minutes into the lesson there was a bang at the back of the room interrupting the lecture.

A tall, broad shouldered man in a suit and tie wandered into the room. Close set, steel blue eyes surveyed the room, before settling onto Tranz himself. “This is the wrong theatre. Where is the Davidson theatre where they are presenting the new AI?”

"It’s on the other side of campus," Tranz snapped in irritation. The longer this fool interrupted him the less effective the messaging would be. True, it would be weeks before the students would be ready for him, but the process would be a week behind schedule if he didn’t get rid of this fool now.

“You-“ Tranz pointed to the tardy student. “Ms Paige, Show him where the Davidson theatre is.“
 
"Paige, sorry sir." Jenna looked suitably ashamed, sliding down a little in her seat before he took his attention off of her, where she resumed her straight backed, perfect posture again.

He wanted to do a meditation exercise...? Jenna frowned a little before setting her pencil down, a furtive glance around the room before she went ahead and closed her eyes too. She supposed it was relaxing. She'd prefer he use his time...teaching, but okay. A few minutes, she could indulge him that.

Hard as sitting still was.

And then he started up his lecture, leaving the music on in the background. Wait, this was the topic of discussion? Jenna glanced to her class schedule. This was supposed to be a business law cla-oh, crap, she was in the wrong room.

Dang it! After the withering look he'd given her, she didn't dare get up and exit in the middle of his lecture, but the topic was a little embarrassing. She was an adult though, should be mature enough to handle it in an intellectual context-she chided herself. Missing the first day of her class though...gah. She couldn't believe herself.

Room 110A, not 110 B! Jeez, Jenna. She was being so spacey lately. The move, the excitement, the...nighttime activities.

But she hadn't come to New York to pick up new hobbies-she had come here to study. She had better focus on what mattered, dang it. Well, first days were usually syllabus days, anyway. She'd make friends and snag notes for...um. Jenna's gaze had returned to the slides absently, figuring she might as well listen to his marketing lecture-but she thought she had seen something, a blurb or malfunction in the projector, between his slides.

He talked through another, and there it was again-fast, so fast she couldn't tell what it was, just that there was more than one, flashes of something.

Jenna's eyes narrowed slightly, frowning at the projected slides. Something...something wasn't quite...she again thought there was a flicker or a malfunction in either his powerpoint or his slides-and then she caught an image of a scantily clad women and man standing together, something too fast, and then Want me, obey me.

What the...what the hell? Had she-did anyone else-was she imagining things? Things like THAT? She felt her face get a little warm and she briefly considered if she had lost her damned mind, maybe watched too many stupid movies. Her girlfriends had dragged her to that stupid Baywatch film before the move North. She'd blushed furiously and kept her eyes on the back of the guy's head in front of her through most of it. Maybe that was it...?

Jenna's brow furrowed ever so slightly, trying not to blink as he talked through the next slide, waiting for it to-there! No shame, sex is good-her face began to color in earnest, but no one else seemed to notice anything. The words had been so fast, what was this guy trying to-

Jenna jumped along with half the class when the doors blew open, a man sauntering in, uncaring about his interruption. Her mind was still racing with a mixture of confusion and embarrassment as she tore her dark eyes from the stranger to the slides again-when the professor suddenly pointed at her and bit off an order.

She couldn't get out of there fast enough-well, she could have, but that wouldn't be very prudent. "Y-yes sir." She grabbed her bag and pulled her notebook to her chest, hopping down the two steps that had led to her seat, hurrying down the front and to the stairs leading to that back door. Her boots made small tapping noises on each step as she darted up them, anxious to get the hell out of there even as she tried to process what had just happened.

She hurried past the man and out the doors, stopping short just outside of them-belatedly realizing that SHE didn't know where the Davidson theater was.

"Um, sorry, just a moment, I-" Jenna was a bit out of sorts but not out of breath, shifting her bag to her other hand and shoving her notebook into it, snagging the map she had printed off last weekend, had only half memorized. Okay, Davidson Theater-oh, there it was. It was on the other side of campus just like the creep had said. Was he a creep? Or had she imagined...no, she definitely hadn't.

This poor man probably thought he'd been given a moron for a guide, and Jenna pushed her jumbled thoughts aside and smiled at him, trying to mask her earlier discomforted embarrassment. She extended one of her small hands to shake, looking up at him and giving her full attention, finally. "I'm Jenna Paige. Sorry to say I'm a transfer student and new myself, but I'll get you there, don't worry." She was polite, if nothing else.

She was relieved to be out of Mr. Weirdo's classroom. Something she had better come back to, if...if she wanted to figure out what was up with him. A social experiment maybe...?

She would nod if he had given his name and turn to lead the way, a bit of pep in her step, regaining her earlier excitement just to be here in these halls.
 
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Anthony Ackerman's steel blue eyes stared at the professor for a long lingering moment. There was something not quite right about this scene. Something off and distasteful, even in the short time he’d stood there. The attention the class were paying to the lecturer seemed… off.

In a previous life, he might have done something about it, asked a few decreet questions. Snuck into different back doors or poked around but in this professors workplace, his home anywhere he might be vulnerable. Except that was a past life. In this life Anthony was running late.

The woman the professor chose to escort him, leapt at the lecturers command, but then stopped and after shaking her head proceeded a little more hesitantly up the stairs. He stared at her slim figure and glanced briefly at her well shaped buttocks as she led the way from the theatre.

Once outside she babbled in a somewhat endeeering fashion for a few moments, but quickly found her stride again. Almost instantly his mood swung from dark and suspicious and he met her fumbling with a warm sincere smile and shook her hand with a firm grip.

*"I'm Jenna Paige. Sorry to say I'm a transfer student and new myself, but I'll get you there, don't worry."*

He chuckled to himself as if enjoying a private joke “I have no doubt of that Ms Paige, or can I call you Jenna? I’m Ackman, Anthony Ackerman of Ackerman Industries, I appreciate your time. Here..”

They had reached the doors to exit the building, and he opened the door for her. A light rain pelted down upon their heads and Anthony opened and umbrella, which the two huddled under as Jenna directed them across campus.

"Transfer student, that must be exciting for you," he said.
 
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Well, at least he seemed nice, was forgiving about her being new and needing a map.

“Jenna’s fine.” She assured. But then what would she call him? Mr. Ackman seemed kind of standoffish, but calling him by his first name seemed a little too informal. Well, she’d mix it up. “It’s no trouble at all Mr. Anthony, really! Happy to help.”

And to get the heck out of whatever that professor had going on. Maybe he was in the sociology department, maybe it was some sort of research. Creepy though. Really, really creepy...

“I heard it rains a lot in New York.” She commented cheerfully. “But so far, it’s just felt so nice and crisp. Maybe because it’s Fall? Thanks for keeping us dry on the way.” They had to be a little close to share the umbrella, but luckily she didn’t take up much room. One of his broad shoulders might catch a bit of rain however, poor guy.

Standing so close it made her extra aware of his height-but Jenna was used to feeling small around people. Still, even in her boots he towered over her. The helpful girl kept her back and shoulders straight as always, making the most of her diminutive stature. She glanced up from the map with a smile at his question.

“Oh, it is. The university is wonderful-I can hardly believe I’m here.” Those dark eyes practically shone with blissful excitement. This was not a student who was attending school to party it up, or a rich girl being sent to an Ivy League school by influential parents. This was someone excited to learn and grateful, very grateful to be there. “Sorry. If you let me, I’ll gush all day about all of it. You said something about an AI presentation? Is that related to what you do with your company? I’m afraid I’m not very familiar with Ackerman Industries…” The petite girl was apologetic.
 
Just Anthony," he told her.

Anthony was a broad shouldered man, and used to taking up a lot of space. He couldn't help but bump into her every so often, but he managed to maintain the umbrella to protect her from the worst of the down pour. Being in such close proximity to this young woman i was impossible to ignore the pleasing smell of her body spray under the petrichor from the road.

He glanced sideways at her occasionally as they wandered through the University grounds. He grunted in response to her obvious enthusiasm at joining the school. He missed that sort of optimism and slight naivety.
“Sorry. If you let me, I’ll gush all day about all of it. You said something about an AI presentation? Is that related to what you do with your company? I’m afraid I’m not very familiar with Ackerman Industries…”

"No reason why you should. Ackerman Industries is a subsidiary of LexCorp, although we operate under our own name. We specialise in Military contracts. Gadgets mostly, not weapons. I'd like to grow our markets into domestic products. Helpful around the house type things. I'm interested in the AI because they suspect it has information about a new kind of energy, something know as the Speed Force."

He falls silent. They continuer walking through campus and he listens to her talk enthusiastically about school before interrupting. "So what is your story Jenna? I mean other than your looks, what do you have going for you?"

He pauses listening to her answer.
"I ask because, there is a certain kind of person who would use their good looks and sexuality to take short cuts. Maybe you are that sort of person, maybe not, but take my advice: whatever course you are doing I would avoid those sorts of lecture we just left. Sex sells is a somewhat narrow view of marketing and in my experience promotes a limited sort of thinking."

When she tells him that she was in the wrong class, he chuckles.
"You went to the wrong class? Are you sure you know where you are going now?" he teases. "I take it back here it is..."

They look up at a sign that reads Davidson Theatre.
 
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Whatever lotion or bodywash she used, it smelled like...vanilla and apple blossoms? Something feminine. It wasn’t a man killer perfume but probably something just for herself, something innocently pleasant.

Jenna absorbed the information about his company, looking thoughtful-and then surprised. Surprise she was quick to cover up with a little cough into her shirt sleeve. Wait, what? That might be something she should look into. She forced a neutral expression on her face, becoming a little busy ‘looking’ for something in her bag. Jenna was tapping into the Speed Force intuitively, but she hadn’t quite been able to get back to...whatever that place had been, that first time. With what had remained of Velocity. What had the mystery woman said? That she was an echo…?

DEFINITELY look into, if she thought it could provide any information about the Speed Force at all-what she was apparently tapping into with her new found abilities, according to the echos of the first Velocity.

First Velocity? What, was she going to be Velocity II? Actually…

He broke the silence she had also fallen into with a question-and a compliment, one that made her blink-and then a faint blush of color spread over the tops of her cheeks. “Um-hopefully, a lot.” She shrugged with a pretty laugh.

“I’m from Virginia, sort of-my dad’s a retired veteran, that was just the last place he was stationed. I was able to get a scholarship to finish school here, after two years of study there. Free tuition and board-I got really, really lucky.” Well, luck-and having worked her tail off all through high school and early college, anyway. She didn’t want to sound like she was bragging, though.

"I ask because, there is a certain kind of person who would use their good looks and sexuality to take short cuts.” Jenna actually stopped short, the friendly young woman looking-well, rather offended and surprised, for a moment. He’d catch her glance down to her cute but rather conservative outfit, as if she briefly thought something about her attire made her seem like that sort of...person.

Maybe you are that sort of person, maybe not, but take my advice: whatever course you are doing I would avoid those sorts of lecture we just left. Sex sells is a somewhat narrow view of marketing and in my experience promotes a limited sort of thinking.

“Th-that wasn’t my class-” She defended, shifting her bag on her shoulder. “And that creep wasn’t my professor.” Oops, probably shouldn’t have blurted that last part. Still, she felt out of sorts with that statement. He didn’t know her! She was a nice girl, damn it-she had better be, because her parents were strict as all get out. Sure, she was an adult in New York now-but she still had good sense. She was here to work hard and get good grades-not...sleep around for them, or whatever he was implying.

“I’m here to study law, I was just-I just went to the wrong class by mistake. Mine was in the room next door, I just didn’t want to get up and leave in the middle of his lecture."

She seemed a little flustered. "W-Well, I did-but I didn’t want to be rude.” She had started to walk again, but she seemed a little tense. Not just with him-she cast a frowning, troubled glance back towards the ever shrinking building they had left, still bothered by whatever the heck those messages had been doing in his presentation.

Those dark eyes flicked back to him at his chuckle and good natured teasing-and she relaxed a little. “Well, probably wouldn’t without this map, no-” She admitted-and then they were both looking up at the building, Jenna deciding then and there she might slip in too.

“Is it open to anyone, or did you have to sign up?” She inquired curiously, thinking. She wanted to know what they had to say about the Speed Force. She guessed if it was the latter, she could try and see if anyone took video or blogged about it, later.

There was still the computer in Velocity's base of operations, too-Jenna hadn't had time to look at it yet, but she'd been given the passcode to access it. Probably a good idea to dust the keys off and give it a look later tonight, if she didn't have too much coursework to do.

Priorities, and all.
 
Is it open to anyone, or did you have to sign up?”

"I'm afraid it is an invite only affair. Normally I could have snuck you in, posing as a date, but this isn't one of those times. The secrets of the speed force are a little sensitive. Sorry," he says.

He turned and shook her small hand, holding it for a fraction of a second too long, allowing the physical contact to linger. "It has been a delight meeting you. Good luck with your studies, and I hope our paths may cross again."

His hand drops to his side.He turns to leave, but at the last minute pulls out a business card and hands it to her with a rougish grin. "To be honest, I have never believed much in hope. Call me if you need any advice with your studies or... Keep the umbrella."

Then he turns and disappears into the building.
 
Jenna shrugged, an easy smile. "Hey, no big deal. It just sounded interesting." She hadn't wanted to directly lie and claim she had never heard of the Speed Force, but she also didn't want to seem too disappointed. Kind of...implying she hadn't heard of it, she supposed. The bit of dishonesty made her feel bad. He turned to shake her hand and she brightened up as he spoke. Maybe he didn't think her some sort of risque young woman after all.

"Like I said, happy to help! It was extra nice to meet you too, Mister-I mean, 'just' Anthony. Enjoy the presentation." Jenna smiled.

He turned to go and then spun back around, pressing a business card into her hands. The petite woman's brows raised in surprise as she read the crisp lettering on the business card. Her dark eyes lifted up to his steel blue ones as he invited her to call him for advice-or 'or...'.

She never quite knew what to do in these sorts of situations-his grin was attractive, no denying that. He was also a lot smoother than the idiotic frat boys. He was older than her, but not TOO old that it was creepy. Then again, maybe she was just flattering herself. Still, she found herself smiling back.

The student had no idea just how dazzling a smile it was, her entire face opening up, becoming even cuter somehow.

"Maybe you'll even let me in on this super secret Speed Force stuff." She said with a wink, tucking the card into her right breast pocket beneath the colorful flower pin. "Thanks for the umbrella." She added, accepting it and turning to trot back down the short set of stairs and get her butt back to class.

Not Mr. Creeper's, but her actual class. She figured she could sneak in through the back. With so many students in a lecture hall, she doubted she'd be caught.

Hopefully, she didn't want to irritate two professors in one day.

...though maybe she should check in on that Tranz guy sometime this week. And...would she call Mr. Ackerman? Hrm...maybe, maybe not, she wasn't sure. He seemed interesting if nothing else, but...well, maybe he was a little TOO smooth. And that talk about using looks and sex as shortcuts-well, that had been a little off putting.

She'd think about it. And she wanted to know what was said about the Speed Force.

/////////////////////////////////////////////

Karl had walked past the car once, gave a glance inside-and then around him, scoping for potential witnesses. He turned the corner, walked the block to circle around. No one seemed to be coming back to it any time soon, and he was alone on this empty-ish back street.

He slipped his tools out from the inside of his leather jacket, stepping closer to the car. He could have the stereo out in minutes, and snag the person's luggage while he was at it. He wedged his pry tool into the top of the window and forced it down a few centimeters, slipping in an inflatable wedge. He leaned back to pump air into it-and heard a cough to his left.

His head snapped up and turned towards the noise-and a small woman in a shimmering blue costume waved at him, leaning against the side of the car casually. "Hey there. Lock yourself out?"

He reached into his coat for his piece but she blurred into motion and was on him, stomping on the toes of his right foot before her fist moved at normal speed-and caught him in the face.

"Gah!" Karl staggered back, both hands over his broken, bleeding nose as he felt the weight of his gun leaving his coat, the girl suddenly holding it, popping out the magazine and tossing it carelessly behind her, unchambering the single round almost lazily.

"What the fuck!?"

"Right? Always sucks to get interrupted while working. And ya know, getting your nose smashed for trying to gun a girl down, but hey-good days and bad days, right?"

He turned and tried to run-which was kind of dumb, in Jenna's opinion. She rolled her eyes behind the over sized, silver reflective goggles she was wearing-and caught sight of a bungie cord holding a trash can closed in the mouth of the nearest alley.

Hey, that'd work. She'd toss the gun in there too.

He hadn't even made it to the end of the street before she was there again, the would be car thief shoved forward with a hand to the back of his shoulder-falling but catching himself as his ankles were lashed together with one end of the cord, and then his wrists with the other, behind his back. Jenna hooked the two hooks together so that he was essentially hog tied, then stepped back to admire her handiwork.

"There we go. Hang out here for the cops, hm?"

And then she was gone.

////////////

She had worried the goggles would detract too much from her visibility, but they were fine. Big enough she didn't lose peripheral vision, and only reflective on the outside to keep her eyes concealed. She'd added the goggles for two reasons-one, they were kind of cool. She didn't need them for running, there was a weird aura tight around her person that kept bugs, air particles, the works from touching her. She wasn't sure how that worked, wasn't something she did on purpose. Two-Velocity had been Caucasian with a dark haired ponytail, her mask and colored contacts enough to conceal her identity. But Jenna was Asian, and that little detail might make it easier to figure out who she was-it wasn't like an eye color change would switch it up much. Whole minority thing and all.

Besides, it was nice to have a little piece of something new to the costume. Something that was uniquely hers.

She was moving so fast through the crime ridden borough people weren't quite sure what the hell they were seeing-and she was gone before they could do a double take. Part of her wondered just how fast she could go-but she should slow down. She didn't want to pancake herself into the side of a car or something. Or run a poor little old lady over.

With a sharper turn than Jenna would thought possible, she moved down another deserted side street adjacent to a parking garage-and heard a scream somewhere, a little lost in the traffic she'd just left.

Trouble. The kind that involved people instead of cars. Uh oh...

Jenna swallowed, then darted into the concrete structure. Searching for the woman was a lot easier when she could race a floor in seconds. She found the trouble on the fourth floor and stopped short near a set of metal trashcans, her eyes widening on the scene.

A man in an ugly purple coat had a woman shoved up against the side of a dark blue minivan, a knife to her throat. Her clothes were rumpled and askew, her blouse pulled out of it's skirt and exposing her abdomen.

"P-please, just take my purse, my keys-whatever you want-"

Jenna didn't even let her get to the 'don't hurt me' part of her plea-she was suddenly THERE, her hand darting out to grab the back of his collar on his stupid jacket and jerk him backwards-darting back to the metal trashcan, hefting it up-and back to fully visible and shoving it down over him before he could even stumble back or land on his ass properly, What trash had been in it (light stuff, thankfully) falling out of it around his feet.

He was a big guy, bigger than the heroine was by far-but she was clever and creative in how she solved such a problem without having to beat on him. Jenna was afraid to strike anyone with anything other than regular speed-not having mastered control entirely, just yet-and a five foot nothing girl didn't pack much punch.

"Are you okay miss? Jeez, I'm so sorry about this asshat-" The petite speedster gave him a shove, knocking him over as he cursed. Then she was zipping back to the woman and suddenly in front of her-a step back when the woman flinched. "S-sorry. Still uh, still getting used to-anyway, are you hurt?"

The woman shook her head no, still wide eyed staring. The guy cursed inside the can, too big to get out of it easily, his beefy arms pinned to his sides and his shoulders caught at the top.

Jenna wasn't sure what she should do next. "Okay. Well, um, you want to kick the can before you call the cops?" She tried to joke, but the woman just edged around her, pausing near the downed man-looking from him to her. "I...thank you. Thanks. He's been stalking me ever since we broke up, n-now I can get a restraining order."

Jenna felt a surge of sympathy for the woman-and anger at the guy, because fuck him, that's what. "Ask to be notified when they let him out of prison-there's a law that gives you the right. Maybe stay with a friend a few days in case he posts bail before his hearing, too."

What else should a hero say here? Jenna shifted awkwardly. "I'm glad I could help. You stay safe okay?"

"Y-you too, Velocity." The woman said, unlocking her car and climbing in, still sort of staring at her. Well, guess the name was sticking, Jenna supposed. That was okay-she was proud to have it, if she were honest. Hopefully she could live up to the name, be even half as good as Laura had been.

She watched her pull out of the spot, the woman getting on her phone to call the cops. Jenna turned back to the man, giving the can a light kick. "You can breathe in there, right? I don't want the cops to show up to a dead violent gorilla instead of a live one to arrest."

"You fucking bitch!"

The heroine propped her hands on her hips. "Rude."
 
A tall figure stood on the corner of a building in Brooklyn. A black scarf covered his eyes and forehead, and on his head he wore a fedora. A long black London Fog trench coat hid his tall body and thick chest, which was covered in a black body armor.

Three sighting was too many for Sleuth to ignore. He had to know if Velocity really was back, but despite their history, he couldn’t be sure of a warm reception. So he’d geared up and come prepared for World War III.

The sensors he planted five years ago were still in place, and operational. There were two ways out of this street, but one direction led out of town to the freeway, while the second led into the city. The sensors should give him a few seconds warning if the blue blur should come tearing down the street.

Sleuth fired a grappling gun to a building opposite and launched himself into the air. In a short period of time he reached the street. This was when he was the most exposed. If he could just get in, he would be able to defend himself. Out here on the road. He didn’t stand a chance.

He checked his surroundings and loped across the road to the abandoned building opposite the alley he’d been hiding in. The brownstone building had been abandoned for some time. According to Sleuths research it was owned by a shell company, which never posted for sale. It wasn't condemned yet, but all four floors were a mess.

Sleuth checked the road once more and removed a loose board on one of the windows. With a grunt and a groan he managed to slip inside. Once in, he breathed a sigh of relief. The door to the basement was open and he took the stairs two or three at a time.

In the basement there wasn't really anything of interest-someone had stolen the water heater at one point, but that was old news. The small space was dusty and hadn't seen a person in years. Or had it?

Sleuth noticed a broom that hadn't been there before, leaning in the corner. Someone had swept the basement. A thin smile tugged at Sleuth’s lips. Promising.

Pressing a brick in one corner of the rustic space revealed a hidden door, the seams hidden cleverly in the masonry. A vault trap door was in the center of this smaller space on the floor, the brick door set to slowly close after a few moments, a much more obvious handle on the inside.

Sleuth moved through, closing each behind him. He accessed the combination lock on the trap door, an old fashioned bank one-there should have been only one person alive who knew the combination. Sleuth reached into a pouch beneath his trench coat and pulled out a small laser. The red beam of light hit to the lock and in a short order cut through. Sleuth pocketed the lock, lifted the heavy hunk of metal revealed a small space beneath.

Automatic lights turning on, the low hum of electricity flowing through them as soon as Sleuth touched the floor. Sleuth followed the old subway tunnel, long abandoned. Occasionally, he could feel the vibrations of a subway in the tunnel just through the walls of this one.

He opened a door and more automatic lights turned on. He was here.*

There was an odd treadmill looking thing in one corner, various complicated instruments attached to it, looking very futuristic-and then a wall of monitors, all currently turned off. A heavy banker's desk was against the wall beneath those monitors, another terminal on it's surface and a collection of binders lining the left side and a microscope on the right. A single chairs was located in front of the computer. A simple militaristic bed against the other wall, because even Velocity needed to sleep. She usually stayed here when she was waiting on her computer to finish analyzing something. The last stretch of wall had an empty white table against it, the large case for Velocity's spare costume in the corner.*

A case that was currently empty.*

And...was that a Starbucks coffee cup on the desk? A woman's dark red sweater was folded up and stacked on a pair of jeans, a shirt at the bottom of the case, sparkly black flats neatly beside them, size five. Someone had been here. Someone, somehow, knew the combination, even though no one should.

Sleuth shut the door behind him and moved to the table. He picked up the sweater and held it to his nose. Hmm apple and vanilla. He opened a small compact pouch from his belt and spread it out. He took the clothes and efficiently p[laced it inside the pouch, which he could use for DNA testing later.

With long strides he crossed the room. In the centre of the room he placed a large black ball, the size of a baseball. Then he moved to his true target, the computer. He placed an identicle black ball beneath the desk, just for good measure and then turned the computer on. The computer asked for a passcode, and Sleuth entered the word “Poppy” she always did love that dumb dog.

He placed a USB drive into the computer. Five years is a long time for technology so understandably the computer was slow. He found the records he was looking for under the folder Sleuth. There were a number of files concerning various heists and documentation on his time in prison. He dragged each of these into the recycle bin, but stopped when he saw a folder named Video.

Frowning Sleuth opened the folder and selected the single .mov file inside.
“you dirty bitch,” he muttered to himself.

The film showed this very room. Laura was bent over the bed and he was behind her. His hips pounding over and over as he drove his cock into her. Her face was twisted with pleasure as he rode her, and softly over and over she cried the words "Fuck me." and fuck her he did.

He remembered the evening well, but something surprised him. His counterpart in the film always had his back to the camera, like he knew it was there. He didn't remember that. The camera never got a clear view of his face,

Sleuth shook his head and closed the video dropping it into the recycling bin. He opened the folder for the bin and was about to delete all the files when a small high pitched tone started beeping from his watch.

Sleuth leapt from the computer chair and slipped into the darkest corner of the room. She was coming. Velocity was coming.
 
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(Sleuth's dialogue was provided via PM by dirtydave)

Jenna had a much easier time slipping in-different broken window with a board only nailed in on one side, easily lifted and ducked under, the petite woman small enough to slip in spaces no one should.

She hopped down the stairs at normal speed, moving through the creepy basement for the secret entrance to Velocity's former base of operations. It had been an okay night. She needed to go out to a field or a track or something, see just what she could do-but a good night.

Or, had been. Jenna stared down at the burned through lock, dropping into a crouch and lifting the goggles up a moment to get a better look. Someone had been here. Someone with some tech powerful enough to cut through metal.

Welp, time to go.

Jenna bit her lip, hesitating. Heroes were supposed to be brave though. And how was she going to get home unnoticed if she didn't have her clothes?

Besides, she couldn't let someone just...rifle around in the place, could she? She had a responsibility here. She'd been entrusted with a secret, and she didn't like the idea of someone violating the late heroine's sanctum. She'd go see what they did, try to figure out what they had wanted-and then track them down and make them sorry, damn it.

She lifted up on the trap door and hesitated-assuming they weren't still HERE, that was. Jenna stood, exiting the small space and grabbing the broom before returning. Yeah, some weapon. She grit her teeth and redonned the goggles with resolve and confidence she was kind of faking-but hey. She hadn't thought this would be easy.

She dropped down into the tunnel and landed on light in bent knees, the rookie hero tilting her head and listening for noise as the lights turned on. Nothing.

Jenna still didn't break into a run-for once, she wasn't in a hurry. Cautious. Nervous. Maybe...maybe a little afraid. Her hands tightened on the broom handle and she snuck towards the door.

The door opened slowly...but Sleuth wouldn't see anyone there. Whoever it was, they were on one side of it, clear of the doorway.

A second. Then two.

And then a shimmering blue and silver blur was suddenly in the room-but before he could detonate the first black ball the figure swung something at it-sending it flying into the far wall with an impressive SMACK.

The girl came into clearer view at the desk-and then the secreted one went off behind her, causing her to turn faster than he could blink-and slip on the oily, watery substance that was now coating that part of the floor, the lower half of her costume, and the broom she had apparantly brought as a weapon.

Time had felt slow again, like with those slides-slow enough she had seen the first black ball and an empty room-so she had thought-before it sped up to normal and he was able to detonate the second one under the desk as she reeled from the disconcerting shift in her perception of time.

Jenna went down hard, landing on her pert rear end and sliding into the desk, a gloved hand slapping down on it. She sucked in a deep breath and pulled herself up into a kneel-but her knee slipped backwards and almost sent her face first into the floor.

"Hello sweetheart." Oh. Oh shit. Someone WAS still here. A man in a trenchcoat and hat, a black scarf concealing his face. "I like the goggles, Laura. They're new."

Jenna's left gloved hand clawed for the slippery broom but she couldn't get a grip on it-her right tight on the edge of the desk, pulling herself at least halfway off the ground again, boots slipping in the stuff as she tried to get them under her. She was so fucked if she didn't get moving.

Miss Laura had been an ACTUAL heroine, and look what had happened! Velocity had been brutally murdered and left in an alleyway for God's sake. Maybe it was going to happen to her now, too.

Her body language and the distressed, wordless feminine noise that slipped past her pretty lips made her fear plain to see. Even if she was trying to get it under control and hide it. It made him pause a moment, his gaze looking her back over with a frown.

Her dusky skin tone. Her smaller, rather petite size. Her lack of recognition. And her age-she was young, hardly more than a kid and uncharacteristically scared. His eyes narrowed. "You are not Laura."

"No shit!" Jenna burst, hooking the back of her foot on the support of the wheeled chair-and using a burst of speed to curl her legs in as she sent it violently flying in his direction.

She was NOT going to just sit here and die. She grabbed a desk drawer with her non slippery gloved hand and threw it at him, pens, pencils, and various supplies flying everywhere. It was a dangerous projectile in the hands of the petite speedster-but her aim was thrown off as she slipped and fell on her ass again, her blurred pitching arm slamming painfully into the front of the desk-cracking wood and twisting her expression into one of pain.

But she still ripped out the other one and held fast to it, prepared to somehow defend herself with THAT if need be. And indeed-she seemed ready to do just that when he stormed up-but he stopped short at the edge of the slippery stuff, still looking furious but not quite murderous. He...he couldn't get close or he'd slip too. That didn't necessarily make her safe, though.

"You have no right to wear that. None." He bit off angrily.

Jenna got angry back. "I have every right!" She burst, lifting the drawer threateningly even as she tried to stay backed up against the desk, her arm throbbing.

Her voice turned incredulous. "She gave me the location of her base, its combo and the permission to take up her mantle, do what I could to help the people of New York." That last bit was a word for word repeat of what Laura's echo had said.

Something Laura often said to herself, when facing challenges. 'I'm here to help the people of New York.'

"YOU were the one who had to break in!" Her heart was pounding in her chest, mouth a little dry-but fuck him! He had set up a trap thinking she was the original, the real Velocity-and was pissed he'd gotten the wrong one? Jenna didn't know. She just didn't want to get murdered. Especially not on day two of wearing a costume. That would probably be a new record, if she couldn't even last a week.

"What the heck did you come here to steal anyway, Dick Tracy?"

The computer had been on, she realized. She hadn't even looked at it yet. That only made her madder. He was the one with no right to be here! And who knew what was on the machine, what sort of information he shouldn't have!
 
Sleuth levelled an inscrutable gaze when Velocity told him about Laura. His lips formed a thin line.

"Listen brat, you think because you take down a handful of petty crims that your ready for this city? That suit puts a big target on your head. Do you know how many enemies Velocity has. Enemies far worse than me. Do yourself a favour brat, go home before you get hurt."

Sleuth stared at the computer and chewed on his bottom lip. He listened to her retort and instead of answering pulled a gun from his belt and put three bullets through the computer with a speed that would surprise her. The screen goes black.
 
"You'll note I never said it was a good idea to don her mask, or that I was very qualified-" Jenna deflected with much less anger, because no, she wasn't ready. It wasn't a good idea in the slightest. But she could tap into the speed force and...she couldn't sit back and do nothing. That'd be nice, but she had a responsibility to act and act right damn it, as best she could.

"Just that I was asked to."

The words had barely left her mouth when-!

There was a short scream and when he looked again-the kid was gone. Oh, no, there she was-under the desk with her arms over her head. Most assuredly, this rookie heroine had thought he was going to shoot her. And probably still did.

/////////////

Her thoughts were moving fast now, though she didn't initially realize it.

Oh God he's going to kill me and I haven't called Mom in a week and no one is going to know what happened because I'm about to be dead in a secret base in an unused subway tunnel beneath a crumbling building in a shitty part of town because I was stupid enough to listen to ghosts or echoes or whatever-unless he takes and ditches ME in an alleyway-

Her parents hadn't wanted her to go to New York. If she hadn't gone, she never would have gotten attacked, and then she wouldn't have discovered her abilities, and then she wouldn't be DEAD.

Jenna lifted her head when she wasn't shot at-and realized everything had gone deathly silent. She was watching pieces of glass slowly fall from the top of the desk like...snowflakes. The weapon was still raised, smoke trailing from the muzzle. He had shot the computer. Why? Prevent her from using it? Hiding something? General disregard for the property of others? Poor Miss Laura-Jenna felt like she had let her down somehow, letting this whack job invader destroy something of hers.

This slowness was just like before, when she had been backed into a corner and terrified-everything had gone still and she was briefly concerned she had become delusional-before she ran like her life depended on it. It had. And she had run so fast she ended up-

She stared at the little pieces of glass, struggling to keep her mind in the weird sped up pace she couldn't quite hold onto. Like wet sand through her fingers...Jenna's right slippery glove found and tore at the Velcro straps on the side of her boots, loosening them from around her calves. The pieces of glass began to fall faster, the trench coat sporting man slowly moving, a statue coming to life- she grasped hold of the edges of the desk from her cubby, slid herself around to press her boots flat to the wall. Well, he wouldn't be ruining anything else.

Or shooting Velocity's costume full of holes, dammit. She sucked in a breath-and then kicked off the wall while also shoving the desk drawer and sending it spiraling at the lunatic's feet as her mind burst back to normal time perception-the small heroine shooting across the room and towards the bed, catching herself on it just as she kicked one boot off-and then popped up on her stocking'd foot to twist around and sling the second one in his direction.

Jenna was on her stocking'd feet on dry ground now, the pattern to her navy blue stockings bearing small, cute red hearts that definitely did not match her costume. She could run now. She would be okay-or so she told herself, her bravado returning somewhat. "You're kind of a jerk, huh?"

Her eyes, not that he could see them, had flicked to the empty costume case-but only her black flats remained in it. She blurred to the case. "Did...you take my clothes?" Her confusion was evident-but then she was a blur again, now in the opposite corner, staying far away from that slippery oil stuff. He must have. The hell would he do that for?

"I get it's a nice sweater- but I don't think it'd fit you, Dick Tracy." Then she was at the bed again, faster that time before again becoming still, visible-but tense on the balls of her feet, coiled like a spring. "Also? Creepy." She seemed contemplative but hesitant-as if she was deciding between trying to fight him-or just running.

Jenna couldn't go home to the dorms like this, though. And...she didn't want to leave him to wreck the place more. Even if she had zero intention of coming back, given the breach.
 
The blue blur rocketed across the room, leaving a snail trail behind her. Fuck.

Somehow she found her feet, and it took a moment for him to notice her missing boots. Velocity buzzed back and forth across the room at super speed.

"You'rekindofajerkhuh?" She said ripping from one side of the room to the next. Her voice moved at hyper speed betraying her nervousness and fear. Sleuth could shoot at her, but what good would that do. He had shot at Velocity too many times to know that never worked, unless it was a distraction to get her to move to where he wanted her. This Velocity was staying well away from his slip bomb. His best bet was to get the hell out of here.

"Didyoutakemyclothes? then she was a blur again, now in the opposite corner. Damn she was fast, but strangely unfocused. She should already have snatched the gun from his hand. What was the point of going for her clothes, unless she planned to run.

"Igetit'sanicesweater- but I don't think it'd fit you, Dick Tracy.

Also? Creepy"


"I have a pair of leather pants it will go really nice with," he said. He dropped the revolver and His left hand moved to his belt where he kept his smoke bombs. It was half way there when-
 
"Pft. Probably." It made her feel better that he talked. She wasn't sure why. Still, either she was getting her clothes back, or she was going to borrow that trench coat. Something. She was going to do something, because he had broken into Miss Laura's inner sanctum and...and she had let him destroy something of hers.

Jenna was watching his trigger finger and trying to force her mind back into that sped up state-wasn't working- ready to move if she so much as saw it tense.

But no-he released it completely, his left hand moving for-

This time the girl straight up vanished. There wasn't even a blur-just a disturbance of air. He'd hardly have time to be surprised as something small but forceful collided with his mid section, halting any reach or access to his belt. The girl had hurtled herself at him, her momentum alone causing him to fall backwards-right into his own oil slick trap.

This new Velocity was barely over a hundred pounds, coming up and straddling his stomach with an almost cheerful, fiery "Nope!" As she pulled her small left fist back in a blur-only to fire a punch at normal speed. More followed, her knees tight on either side of his chest.

The attack had been brave but also foolish-it would have been less so if she, like Laura had, used her abilities to power her punches-but she didn't. She clearly could have-she might even be faster than Laura had been, hard to say in the short span of time and distance he'd seen her move-but she didn't.

Why?
 
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Sleuth's body armor took the brunt of her strike, so that when she rammed into him, he was only a little winded. He hit the ground a fraction of a second before her fist hit his face.

What? She'd done that at normal speed. Why was she pulling her punches. Her legs squeezed into the sides of his stomach, but she felt light on his chest. Sleuth couldn't be sure why she would hold back, but knew that she could change her mind at any minute.

Sleuth' large hand grabbed her by the her left upper arm and he pulled intending to throw her off him, but because her suit was still covered with the oil from his slip bomb his hand slid down her arm, like he was holding onto a live eel. He found some traction where her glove met the sleeve and managed to tip her off him. He rolled over trying to pin her beneath his large frame, but again the fabric of her suit wriggled away. She was just too damn slippery

Sleuth managed to wrap his arm around her waist and for a moment had her, but as she wriggled he found himself pawing desperately around her belt area, as her taut buttocks bucked into his face. His hand slid over her waist, and tried to grab at the soft flesh at the curve of her hip or buttock. His hand slid down to her well muscled thigh, following the silver line on the side of her costume. When he could no longer hold on, he' reach for her waist again, but each time he grabbed, clawed or pawed at her was as unsuccessful as the last. He couldn't pin her, and she was fighting back.
 
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The nature of the shimmering blue suit made it extra difficult to hold onto-it was designed to reduce friction, the stabproof material feeling like a mixture of thick leather and pvc plastic. Oiled up, in this case.

As his hand slid down her left arm her right fired off another shot-before he was pulling her off and turning to roll on top of her.

"You wish, buddy-" She almost growled, her right hand coming down on his shoulder but her glove unable to grip the material. His weight crushed her partially beneath him and she curled her hand and shoved down, her arm locking as the action both pushed him further down her slim form-while also slid herself backwards from underneath him.

This had been a terrible idea. He was a freaking giant compared to her. But who knew what he'd been reaching for. Another trap? A bomb?

Jenna twisted, her hip shoving into him as she shimmied/shoved her way partially out from under him-her left hand brought up to her face, the heroine catching the velcro at the wrist with her teeth and ripping it off.

He had an arm around her waist in what would have been a rather...inappropriate position under normal circumstances, briefly able to pull her back against him. Hell, under THESE circumstances it was pretty risque!

She slipped free, his hands sliding off her costume-until he managed to wrap one of those large hands around her slender ankle-finally finding purchase on the stocking.

He yanked her back down under him and was then able to curl his fingers around the top edge of her costume, that turtleneck portion around her neck and at the top of the zipper. Jenna snapped her elbow back into his chest-where it thumped against his body armor under the coat. Man.

"You're a thieving, property destroying busybody-" Jenna had one forearm arm supporting her as she again twisted around, keeping her bare hand dry while her slippery glove tried to pry his fingers out of the suit's collar. His slippery digits slid around on the inside of the collar as she ended up flat on her back again, caught between the hand gripping her collar and the knee he had managed to get between her thighs-legs that had instinctively closed tight on the limb so he wasn't touching her-even with the costume seperating them, no way was that going to be a thing.

She was facing him again, her ungloved, non slippery hand grabbing him by the lapel of his coat- giving a fast jerk on it that brought him down or kept him close so he couldn't rear back to hit her-hopefully. "Nobody asked your opinion-you came here thinking I was her and set an ambush, Christ! Just give me my freaking clothes back and stop making messes trying to kill me or whatever!"

Too close. Way too close to this man. And that wasn't much of an insult, either.
 
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He small fist caught him on the face. For her size, she hit pretty hard, but she still wasn't using her powers, thank christ. He grabbed her neck around the collar, and at last he had something he could hold onto.

"You're a thieving, property destroying busybody-"

"Stop moving you little brat..." He says as she thrashed about.

Somehow his hand got trapped between her legs, which was probably to his advantage since it incapacitated her legs. Legs are stronger than arms, and with the speed force on her side she could put one through his skull, if she wanted too. Of course it meant he couldn't do anything either.

She managed to pull him off her and he hit the ground but didn't lose his grip on her collar. He pulled and twisted his hand between her legs this way and that trying to free it. His glove brushing against the flesh on her inner thighs. Sleuth didn't notice any of this he just concentrated on getting his hand free. His hand eventually came out, leaving the glove behind.

"You're a thieving, property destroying busybody-"

"...and your a fake! A stuck up little brat with delusions of grandeur!"

His entire face and body were burning, but whether that was from the fight or something else he didn't have time to process.

"Nobody asked your opinion-you came here thinking I was her and set an ambush, Christ! Just give me my freaking clothes back and stop making messes trying to kill me or whatever!"


He wrapped his arm around her waist again, this time with more success. Sleuth bodily lifted her up. He climbed to his knees, the suit collar pulling against Velocity's throat, chocking her. Then the zip on her back loosened and unravelled revealing olive skin down to the shoulder blades, but not as far as the strap on her bra.

"Maybe you are the one who should be giving back clothes"

She was kicking and thrashing impotently in his arms, but was unable to land a blow. That said, he could no longer able to hold onto her by the collar, so he wrapped his arm around her body, and was surprised when his hand grabbed the part of her costume that hid the soft mound of her breast.

He grunted pulling her into a bear hug, but then slipped and they came crashing down together with his hand trapped between the shape of her bosom and the ground, and her buttocks wedged into his crotch.
 
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A stuck up little brat!? Delusions of grandeur!? A FAKE!? She wasn't a fucking fake, she was supposed to be a successor-did HE have a million dollars to create a new costume suited for a speedster? She sure as hell didn't.

"You think I don't have better things to do than race around town?! You think I WANT to be playing grabass with some judgmental asshole who's dressed like Inspector Gadget?!"

She wished she was bigger. A lot bigger-he was picking her up and the collar of the costume was tight around her throat as he pulled on it, cutting off her airway as she tried to kick at the floor, her legs blurring in the brief moments she couldn't draw in air-but in the stockings she just wasn't going to get anywhere, managing little more oiling the knees of the costume further and soaking her poor socks.

The zipper came undone and she coughed, sucking in a breath and stiffening as he spoke, her eyes flaring wide behind the goggles.

"Maybe you are the one who should be giving back clothes"

Jesus Christ, was he going to try to undress her, forcibly rip the damned thing off of her? "Again, YOU had to break in, I was invited-!" He grabbed part of the costume over her breast-and while the material was thick enough and the bra underneath cupped-she jerked back against him in surprise and shock-then made an outraged noise. Intentional or not, she could feel his breath on the back of her neck and between her shoulder blades, and now he was copping a FEEL!?

He pulled her tighter against him in a bear hug as she twisted her shoulders, more intent than ever on getting loose-but then he slipped-and next thing she knew she was hitting the unforgiving concrete, more of that damned oil on her skin, her hair-and a much bigger, heavier man crushing her beneath him, his hand trapped against her chest.

Jenna, for the briefest of moments, almost couldn't believe what had just happened. What would have been an embarrassing, maybe even tear inducing 'accident' during the day was rage fuel right now, in costume and dealing with THIS guy. She had never been in this sort of position OR situation, and her struggles only drove the curve of her read end into the cradle of his hips, causing her to both blush madly and see RED, another sound of outrage before she tried to get out from under him.

"I am going to kick your ass-" She said in a flat, heated tone that had rage boiling beneath it, literally trembling with anger over the humiliation. He was heavy, was crushing her-even the words had just emptied air from her lungs she couldn't draw back in-but she was going to beat the hell out of him, she swore to God.

"Get off of me!" Higher pitched that time.
 
Ok, this was not how he wanted. Hastily he pulled his hand off her chest (as pleasant as it had felt), and pushed lightly on her back. He got up on all fours, preparing to handcuff her, but-
 
He got off, and thank God-but that didn't mean she wasn't going to follow through. Jenna's shoulders turned slightly-and then that blur of her arm as it reached behind her and hooked his forearm in the crook of her elbow before ripping it to his right and off of her. Her fingers dug into the sleeve of his coat and his arm, both drawing her closer and swinging/sliding him into the wall next to the desk as she pulled her other fist back-and fired it forward for his stupid scarf concealed face.

And then she realized it wasn't at normal speed. She hadn't meant to move fast, but it had.

Behind the goggles, her eyes widened and she jerked her arm wide in the three nanoseconds before it might have smashed his face in, everything standing still, impossibly slow motion except for her regular seeming fist-which collided with, and cratered, the concrete inches from his face. Jenna scooped up his hat and brought it up to cover the crater and her fist-to protect his face from debris that was slowly beginning to explode outwards, spinning in dust and rock and...this was almost like a horror movie, wasn't it? She was literally watching her hand be pulverized.

And then everything was normal, all Sleuth having seen was a blur with no arms-and then the top of his hat inches from his face, held tightly in the girl's right hand-as an impossibly loud, sledgehammer on concrete sound went off beneath the hat, briefly deafening them both. Intermingled with the blasting of concrete, not that either of them would hear it, was the sickening crunch of bones breaking.

To her credit, the would be heroine didn't scream.

The pain was immediate and awful-little pebbles and pieces of stone pelting the inside of the hat she'd scooped up to protect his face-which she now dropped to wrap her right hand around her poor, poor left wrist-her hand bloodied and broken within the silver glove that housed it. More awful than that though-she had almost killed him.

SHE had almost KILLED him. There was a low, distressed noise, her olive toned skin paler-even her lips!-and all thoughts of combat or 'kicking his ass' flung from her mind.
 
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The back of her head smacked into Sleuth's jaw. Something struck his arm, and he fell sideways hitting the wall. A grunt of pain escaping his lips. He was exposed and open to any attack she could level on him.

Velocity was a blur of blue, and it was just like old times when she used to kick his arse back then, too. He blinked and for some reason his hat wasn't on his head anymore, but the blue blur paused for a moment. Sleuth knew he wouldn't get a second chance.

He grabbed her wrists and pinned her to the ground forcing his hips between her legs. For a brief moment the crotches met, but then he used his left shin to pin her right thigh to the ground, and his right shin to likewise pin her left thigh to the ground.

The result left him crouched over her legs spread eagled to either side with less than a foot between their groins.

Sleuths chest rose and fell in heavy laboured breaths, his chin ached where she'd struck him. If that wasn't enough he realised he was almost hard. He stared down at her tits, which also heaved from the confrontation. He had her. She was at his mercy. He'd won.

Then he noticed the tears falling from beneath her silver goggles, her plump lips were twisted in pain. Sleuth's eyes moved to his hat and he saw the bloodied mess of what used to be her hand.

He held her eye allowing the moment to draw out. This was for her own good. Without a word, he released her bloodied hand, she wouldn't be using that for anything, and pulled a small emergency needle from a pouch at his belt. He held it up for her to see. For a brief moment the look of pain on her face was overcome with a look of terror. She shook her head slowly back and forth. "morphine," he explain in a calm voice. He placed the needle on the computer desk so she could use it later. She would need it when she calmed down.

"Go home kid. You might have been chosen, but your not ready for this."

He grabbed his hat and glove, climbed to his feet and, managed to maintain his balance for long enough to reach a clear patch of ground. Without looking back he strode to the door and walked out. She didn't come after him.

He considered calling 911. He should have mentioned it in the room. Fuck too late to go back now. Three streets away He climbed on his motorcycle and roared into the night.
 
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He had a hold of her all of a sudden, Jenna sucking in a breath that was a near sob as one of his large hands encased her shattered, pain wracked wrist-bolts of new pain rocketing up her arm and shoulder. Her whole world was pain. She'd fucked up. She had fucked up bad.

He had her toned thighs pinned to the floor, his weight on his shins painful. He was too heavy for her to get away from, to fight-not that there was much fight left in her after nearly killing or seriously wounding him. Lost focus. Lost discipline. Stupid mistake. Deserved this.

When he saw the damage he released that hand. It was unexpected and Jenna drew it close to her chest as if to protect it-and then he reached for a needle. Jenna's heart stopped. She didn't deserve this though, oh God-

"Please, please no-I didn't mean to-" Heroes weren't supposed to beg. They spit in their opponent's face or showed their lack of fear with a quip or witticism. But she wasn't a hero. She was just a girl far, far from home in a city her parents had warned her about-and she was very terrified. Afraid to die-but more afraid of something worse happening.

She wasn't quite hysterical, but her voice was shaky and thick with tears, getting small at the end. But he didn't. He explained calmly, setting the needle aside. He told her to go home and got up.

This time, it was less angry and more tired sounding. It also...sounded like a good idea. He was right. She wasn't ready. She would probably never be ready. Her powers had saved her life, but they'd probably get her killed, if she tried to be something bigger than herself.

Jenna slowly sat up, cradling her injured hand to her chest but not touching it as she stared at the back of his broad shoulders, this breaking and entering jerk-that had just left pain meds and her behind, her only injuries accidental or self inflicted.

Who..who was that guy? Why had he come after Laura? Why was he angry she'd taken up the mantle? These were questions that didn't matter. Might never matter. Because she was never coming here again.

Once she felt sure he was gone, she ripped her goggles and mask off and burst into tears.

/////////////////

Jenna had taken a taxi, gave her debit card information over the phone, spending money she had scrimped and saved and worked her ass off for, half hoarded. Super speed, but she had taken a taxi. The driver was foreign and didn't seem to recognize the suit, silver boots, or gloves-but he kept glancing at her worriedly, her bloodied and mangled hand wrapped up in the bedsheet, a damaged hard drive in the other. The goggles hung around her neck.

He'd given her his coat. He didn't speak much English, but he was very kind. She hadn't taken the morphine. A little nervous it wasn't what it was-or having a prescription drug in her system she wasn't prescribed for. Getting caught could lose her the scholarship. Her life would be over if that happened.

She tucked the boots under the jacket and wore the black flats-managing to make it to her dorm without being seen-she lived in the academic wing, not a lot going on down there.

She slumped against the inside of her door, sliding to sit on the floor. Her hand hurt so bad-she could barely focus on anything else. She didn't know what she was going to do about it-even if she went to the doctor and made something up, her mother would find out when the insurance bill came, and then she'd have to try and come up with a believable story-and her mother was good at rooting out lies.

Maybe that was why she sucked at them.

Wincing as she slowly unwrapped the mangled mess-Jenna's eyes welled up again as she saw how ugly it was. She had smashed it. She deserved it because she could have killed him, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

How could she explain this? How would she be able to play piano or type or drive? She tried not to feel sorry for herself, but it just hurt so bad, was so awful to look at.

She tried to take deep, deep breaths, think through it-but it was nearly impossible. It hurt a little less than earlier, maybe she was getting used to it?

Jenna tried to flex her fingers, and had to stifle a scream with her good hand. Jesus, Joseph and Mary-what was she going to do?!

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Days later:

Jenna walked across campus after class, her mind turning over the the upcoming exam. Shouldn't be a big deal, but she intended to spend the night reviewing material anyway. Luckily, she had finished the paper due next week this morning. She got up at five am every day and kept a tight, organized schedule, her scholarship hinging on good grades. Her 4.0 hinged on hard work and discipline, and she would need that to graduate with honors and, hopefully-get into a good law school on scholarship. She studied for the LSAT every night before bed, just as she had for years.

Tuesdays and Thursdays she had signed up to volunteer in a nursing home, and her first day of that had gone well. She was sure she'd like it just as much as the work she had done back home.

Jenna glanced down at her hand as she walked, opening and closing it, flexing her fingers. She couldn't believe how it had had healed like that-as if it had never happened. She had woken up the day after with it still swollen and painful-but resembling a hand again. The day after that, just some stiffness-and no signs of damage otherwise.

And now-like it had never happened. Accelerated healing...had Velocity had that? Jenna didn't think so, it wasn't on her Wikipedia page, anyway.

The student felt a pang of guilt as she thought about the deceased heroine, the words of her echo in the Speed Force. The costume was still folded up under her bed. The boots, gloves, mask and shimmering blue costume all hidden behind a large Tupperware container of summer clothes.

She hadn't gone out in it again. She hadn't even looked at it since she'd put it there. Jenna wasn't sure she'd ever wear it again. She had super powers, but that didn't necessarily mean she had to use them for...for anything...

She stared at her hand a moment longer, then shook her head. He'd told her to go home. She wasn't sure why she had listened, or why she was so hesitant to go out now. Scared? Guilty feeling? Unworthy...?

And that damned man! She kept...kept thinking about it, that fight-how she could have hurt him, how stupid she had been not to just run, sure-but also about...about him, for some stupid reason.

She'd had...interesting dreams here and there. Jenna's face got hot as she remembered key parts of one, quickly shaking her head and pinching her own arm so she wouldn't get too red in the face. Yeah, that was not a good road to go down. Especially since she was pretty sure he was a criminal of some sort.

Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she DID need to meet more people, go out every once in a while.

Jenna turned the key in the lock for her room, the academic wing silent at this time a day. Everyone was either at the library or holed up in their rooms studying. Heck, it was silent most times of the day.

Jenna dropped her book back on her bed. She had a single dorm as they all did in the academic wing, the small space hardly bigger than a walk in closet. She had managed to fit a dresser in there across from her bed, and not much else. Books, a tennis racket (she used to play, in high school, and still liked to hit the courts every once in a while), and a mini fridge were all on top of the wooden piece of furniture, a large bulletin board over her bed. There wasn't space for anything else, but it was enough to sleep in and study, and it was free-so Jenna wouldn't complain.

She flopped down on the bed where she bounced a little, her dark eyes staring up at the ceiling. She hadn't gone for a run in days, either. It just wasn't as satisfying as it used to be, now that...now that she could REALLY move.

Maybe she'd see about getting her bike moved up here, assuming there was somewhere safe to lock it up.

Jenna sighed, turning her head to look at the bulletin board, check her calender-when her eyes caught the business card she had half forgotten about. She reached and pulled it free, frowning at it.

Meet more people...

Well. Couldn't hurt. And then maybe she wouldn't dream of criminals in trench coats. Jenna retrieved her beat up old Nokia flip phone and tapped in the numbers. She wasn't sure what she'd say, exactly. He'd invited her to call though, so...why not?

"Hello Anthony, this is Jenna Paige, from Columbia University?"
 
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Max Anton was an enforcer for the mob, nicknamed the snatcher. His specialty was kidnapping children who would be held for ransom until their parents followed whatever the mob wanted from them. The Snatchers latest victim was the eldest son of the District Attorney.

Sleuth tracked the Snatcher down to an abandoned warehouse in the docks. It hadn’t taken much to bring him down, but the boy was no where to be seen. Sleuth tied the kidnappers legs together at the ankles and strung him up over a beam then left him for an hour. Now it was interrogation time.

“Where’s the boy?” No answer. Sleuth struck him across the face with a right, watching the body swing back and forth.
“I ‘aint telling you nothin’ hero.”
“Hero? You must have me confused with someone else.” Sleuth hit him again, and again, and again and…
Beep, beep.

Sleuth stopped and glanced at a device around his wrist. Beep, Beep. The Snatchers eyes locked onto it as well. Sleuth held up on gloved finger. “Excuse me.”

He pulled a retractable earphone nub from the device and placed it in his ear. “Hello?” Sleuths voice lightened and a wide grin spread across his face. ” Oh.. hello. Yes, I remember you. How are you…? Actually can you wait just one sec. I’m just going to put you on hold, but don’t hang up. Ok.”

Sleuth pressed a button on his wrist guard and his head snapped back to the Snatcher. “If you say one word motherfucker, I’m going to beat you so hard they’ll have to wire your jaw shut for a month. Got it?” The Snatcher nodded slowly.

“Hi, I’m back.” Sleuth’s voice became light again. “Coffee? What like a date?... Kind of, huh. Good enough for me. Look, I’m interested, but I don’t really do coffee. If it’s not too forward I’d love to have dinner with you.”

Sleuth spotted the snatcher silently pulling at the ropes around his wrists. Sleuth snatched his gun from his belt and placed the barrel against the Snatchers forehead.

“Great, I’ll book a table and text you the address…. Ok, great. Yeah, I’m really glad you called… Great, looking forward to it... Yep Friday… See you then.”
Sleuth hung up.
“Date, huh?” The snatcher said.
“Yeah…” Sleuth said wistfully.
“you don’t see that a lot, girls calling guys. You're lucky.”
“Thanks,” Sleuth replied with a grin. “Anyway, where were we?”
"Fuck," the Snatcher muttered.
 
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