After-School Special

[Stasis Kiss]

i double dog dare anybody to figure out which part i wrote and which Playboy did. THIS is the way to spend an afternoon..

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The alarm wailed like an upset child even through the ice.

She hit the doors in a blinding rush, the adrenalin pumping tempo into her blood. Registered that half the lights were out and most of the remainder flickered gamely as if unwilling to give up entirely. At least one sprinkler had triggered somewhere and the surfeit of water in the air hit her lungs, solidified with eagerness around her limbs.

Guards, on the ground. Dead, maybe but definitely unconscious and unhelpful. Broken railings, an overturned kiosk, a mess of paper littered across the floor. A teller cowered on the floor but she ignored him, moving farther into the room.

She'd heard the scanner and she'd needed something, anything to distract herself. A fight would be welcome right now. Longbow had yet to arrive and she wanted it that way. Just a little longer, let them be delayed, let them be anything they liked but here. She needed this today for reasons she didn't feel like examining.

There was aborted movement in the corner of her eye and she whirled, charging a fist but it was nothing, just somebody trying to hide behind an overturned table. Whoever had come through here had been messy, maybe unnecessarily. Family, maybe? They had a reputation for being brutal.

She ran down a series of corridors, leaving the question of whatever passed for criminal thinking for another time, jumping a cluster of cold-cocked security guards. It was too easy; like a trail of breadcrumbs leading straight to the vault. The crying alarm said she was still in good time.

The thief was there, stuffing wads of wrapped bills into bags like a kid in a candy-store spree. The heavy door stood half-off its hinges from the force of whatever had blown it apart. She spent a half-second trying to place the crook's affiliation but with no insignia or logos, no tell-tale zombies or henchmen, she wrote him off as an independent. An grin spread in an unconscious rictus across her mouth. Yes, just what she needed.

"Halt, thief!" she yelled, even as she moved to engage. She'd always loved saying that. It was right out of the comic books. Misericorde would probably have appreciated it most.

He moved, startled. She registered a face covered in a blue mask over nose and mouth. Hair scraped under a cap. Blue armored combat pads, straight out of the Isles. Dark brows lowered over blue eyes. "Hello," he said gruffly. "And good-bye." A brilliant glow flashed in her eyes.

Gone.

She cursed her damned luck. Stalkers. And here she'd been hoping for a straight-up fight.

"Get back here!" She blinked furiously and concentrated. Faster and faster, stripping the air, pulling cold around herself like a blanket.

She whirled her head around then, senses heightened, looking for a hint for the direction of the sucker-punch. Greenbacks freed from paper wrappings skirled across the floor. She turned, turned again on a sliding heel.

The hit got her square in the back, throwing her across the room. She skidded, the breath knocked out of her lungs as the floor rushed up. Whoever he was, he packed a hell of a hit. She laughed. Maybe this could be fun.

"Yeah, you wanna play then?" she whispered. "Let's see how you do with this."

Security level fifty wasn't just a pin, it was knowing what to use, when to use it. He'd messed up, maybe panicked at her appearance and he'd only manged to push her back to the door. The only way out of the vault.

She scrambled to her feet and then into the opening, listening with her eyes nearly closed. The ice sighed around her but she waited. Trusted. He had to get out before anyone else got here and unless he'd managed phasing he was screwed. She wouldn't worry about phasing.

The next one came into her ribs, hard enough to send a sheet of pain washing over everything, trying to push her back and away. Once out the door she'd never find him. Yet for that beautiful second he was there, nearly in the circle of her arms. He was crouched, the dark hood nearly on level with her waist, expecting her to lash over his head. She snapped a knee up instead, making solid contact with his chin.

Maybe he wasn't as good at this as he thought he was. There was a wordless groan of pain as he fell back, the pitch of his voice a soothing mellow tenor. Young. She grinned, sure this fight was over. Too bad, so sad. The ice shifted and faded, freeing her for movement. She cocked her arm back, already adding him mentally to the list of people she'd sent to the Zig.

"You are so arrested."

He looked her in the eyes. Some emotion flashed there. Defiance ... fear? Something.

"No," he said. Bursts of kinetic energy crackeld into the air, blinding her again. She swung out in sudden understanding, heard him scramble to get up, get away. Her fist smashed into the floor just that heartbeat too late with enough force to dent the steel. He wasn't there.

Damn it, damn it. She cursed under her breath, reaction tumbling over itself. If he was smart he'd run now and blocking the door wasn't an option since she'd abandoned it, going for the obvious. Atlas above, she hated stalkers.

One knee on the ground, she thought cold. Cold upon cold upon glacier, arctic wind spreading out in a concentric circle. She'd make sure he couldn't run fast at least, cramped with limbs that wouldn't want to move. Sapping energy, sapping speed. Out of the corner of her eye, something teased. Blood pulsed at her temple as she spun, rising to her feet because the hell she was letting him get away that easy.

In sudden inspiration she thrust out both hands.

She couldn't see him, but she felt the rush of air that signified his presence. He was running. Ice spread from her fingertips, smoothing out the floor into a sheet of glass that formed and faded. She heard him skitter and fall though, losing his balance. Yes! She ran to the sound, sprinting around the corner of the door into the hallway beyond.

The overloaded bags of money appeared nearly at her feet, thrown beyond the scope of his shield. No possible way she could see it coming and there was no way to avoid it and like a klutz, like an all-day sucker, she tripped on the discarded bounty.

She landed so hard she saw stars again, cash mashed up against her face.

This wasn't going like she planned, not at all. What was with this guy? She'd never had anybody just run away like this. Usually they fought like cornered rats and they sure never threw away the money.

He'd given up. The bills in front of her face said she could go home now, in good conscience, duty done. Another day saved.

She shoved herself back to her feet. No way. She wanted a fight after this, somebody owed her a fight. She was going to get him, it had become personal somewhere in the last minute. It shouldn't be hard. He was flagging now. Desperate to get away for some reason. Sloppy.

She ran. Down the hallway, around another corner, in and out of the offices in the bank. There was a thick, excited taste on the back of her tongue with the sudden chase. She was going to catch him, she was. A door was punched off its hinges ahead of her and she ran for it, knowing he was close enough to almost touch. Faster. She had to be faster. Catch him before he got outside.

They blew through the front entrance of the bank, invisible dog on her leash of cold. Motion alone told her where he was, things that were thrust out of the way. If he held still, maybe he'd lose her but he kept moving, making it easy. For a second she saw his imprint on a window as the snapping waves of cold pouring off her body frosted the glass around his shadow.

Out into the streets of Independence Port.

Sound alone kept her on track although she was hardly aware of how hard she was concentrating, listening for the telltale shush of flight. Hands bunching, a slushball of ice coalesced in her palm. She threw it, then another, and once again.

One disrupted his shield and she saw the dark hood flicker back into reality. Ice formed again between her fingertips without thought even as the frigid air burned her lungs and she threw it. Hard, as hard as she could and hit him in the shoulder, half jerking him around. She put on another a burst of speed.

She reached and grabbed his arm, triumph hissing a sound between her teeth. Yes! He yelled, spinning but she had momentum on her side now. She wrenched him around, used the arm like a fulcrum. Tossed him up into the air without deciding it, control lost and he spun up, up like a doll. Came down out of sight.

She jumped to follow, victory like wine in the tightening of muscle. The sign flashed in front of her eyes, a bookstore of some sort. He was sprawled on his back on the flat roof and his arm - his left arm looked odd, long and floppy. His eyes were closed tight, the scrim of his mask in front of his mouth bellying in as he sucked in mouthfuls of air. She took three strides forward and straddled his chest, reaching for the mask.

He kicked to the right between her legs, overbalancing her awkward crouch. His mask tore as they rolled away, leaving a thin thread of blood to trickle down his face.

He got up slowly then, facing away. To his knees, his feet. His body remained averted, the pale color of his hair sticking in damp strands to his skin, darkest at the temples.

She frowned. Licked her lips as she rose as well, ready to chase again, catch again. He didn't make any effort to run though which was weird. This whole damned arrest had been weird right from the start. They never ran.

"You gonna give up now?" She waited a second. "Because we can do this some more if you like. You got another arm."

He shrugged awkwardly, pain evident in the movement. But he turned, cradling his dislocated arm against his torso. It took an age for his head to turn. The curve of cheekbone, the straight profile of his nose. The clear color of his eyes.

She'd only seen them before smiling, charming. Wanting to be her friend. Happy to be her friend.

No.

"Rhodie?"

The frown that split the other's face was something she'd never seen before either. Dark. A little vicious.

"Not one more word, Petal. Your comm is admissible as evidence." He relaxed then as if his voice broke something, poised there on the suddenly alien roof. A shift of intent and he was suddenly more in control than she was. "Don't fuck me over."

She swallowed, trying to claw it back. This couldn't be happening. Not him. Surely not him. What stupid ass game was he playing? She hit her comm hard, cutting it off.

"This isn't funny, Rhodie. I could have really hurt you." She clenched her fist, feeling the material she'd snatched ball up between her fingers.

"So I should be grateful you only busted my arm? For shame."

"I didn't know it was you!"

His nostrils flared. "Would that have made a difference?" he asked. He advanced then without warning and she took a step back. "Put your hand here," he said, patting a place on his torso near his shoulder." She did it without thinking, the hard armor tight under her grip. His eyes laughed into hers and with a quick one-two jerk, his dislocated arm popped back into place. His face paled to milk white but he made no other protest.

"Yes! No! What were you doing?" She was desperate for an explanation she could believe. Maybe he was lost. Maybe it had been on a dare. It seemed impossible.

"What did it look like, Petal?"

She took a deep breath, not sure of what to say but wanting desperately to yell, to get upset. Villains robbed banks. Bad guys robbed banks. Not Rhodie. Not J. Elias Meriwether.

He grabbed his mask out of her hand and jammed it back over his head. Safe behind the concealment, the stranger smiled at her and inclined his head in the barest acknowledgement. Of what she didn't know.

"Meet me at Pocket D in an hour," he said simply. He turned and took off, his slim body winging away into the abnormal afternoon.

It didn't occur until minutes later that she could have stopped him.