brace for impact.
Sep. 12th, 2016 11:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
swingatshadowsYou know, I never quite understood the phrase 'seeing my life flash before my eyes' until this moment. It always seemed logistically impossible. Twenty-eight years alive, and I'm supposed to be able to reflect on that in an instant? I can't even talk to my therapist about my day over the course of an hour.
The sun was barely beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery pinks and oranges as civilians finally found their break from the summer heat. Many families had flocked to High Street Mall to escape the humidity, and the outdoor fountain had been turned on to the delight of many younger children, who shrieked as they were hit by occasional bursts of cold water. A live band played some of latest hits as people roamed around, figuring out their dinner plans and looking for open seating.
A typical day, more or less. The sort where no one was likely to give anyone else a second glance.
But right now, even though I know it only takes a few seconds to drop from the top of a building, it feels like an eternity. Body's bruised, but not nearly as bad as my ego.
I keep thinking about that betrayed look in Black Cat's eyes. It was my fault, and I actually feel guilty. Maybe I shouldn't — she's a villain, right?
But good and bad haven't exactly felt clear to me lately. Right and wrong are even worse. Aren't we supposed to leave all that soul-searching back in our teenage years?
I guess this is me catching up.
Perhaps that was why nobody noticed a spot of black and red hurtling down from the sky. Without looking closely, it might have passed for a bird making a dive. Its descent was slow at first, above and off to the side of High Street Mall's east entrance, but the weight quickly accelerated, course unaltered by the evening breeze. A few birds resting on tree branches scattered at the sight.
Time's up. Brace for impact.
Cindy Moon landed with a crash in the dumpster behind the High Street Mall branch of Burgerpit. The impact sent pieces of soggy lettuce and torn tomato slices flying in every direction, trash bags bursting as they squeezed under the force of her fall. Even while compromised, Cindy could feel a few cracks throughout her body that could only mean fractures and broken bones, and only the course of adrenaline kept her from crying out in pain. Instead, she winced. Blinked. A few times as her vision came into focus. There was a good chance that she'd sustained a concussion, too. None of those facts alarmed her too much — either her advanced healing would have her back on her feet before long, or she'd get a nice long break in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s custody. Worse things had happened before.
Taking advantage of the brief time before her pain receptors would kick into gear, Cindy groaned and sat up in the dumpster. Her ears were immediately met with the high-pitched scream of an employee who had gone back to investigate the source of the sound.
"Um," Cindy croaked, rubbing the back of her neck. "Sorry about the mess."
The sun was barely beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery pinks and oranges as civilians finally found their break from the summer heat. Many families had flocked to High Street Mall to escape the humidity, and the outdoor fountain had been turned on to the delight of many younger children, who shrieked as they were hit by occasional bursts of cold water. A live band played some of latest hits as people roamed around, figuring out their dinner plans and looking for open seating.
A typical day, more or less. The sort where no one was likely to give anyone else a second glance.
But right now, even though I know it only takes a few seconds to drop from the top of a building, it feels like an eternity. Body's bruised, but not nearly as bad as my ego.
I keep thinking about that betrayed look in Black Cat's eyes. It was my fault, and I actually feel guilty. Maybe I shouldn't — she's a villain, right?
But good and bad haven't exactly felt clear to me lately. Right and wrong are even worse. Aren't we supposed to leave all that soul-searching back in our teenage years?
I guess this is me catching up.
Perhaps that was why nobody noticed a spot of black and red hurtling down from the sky. Without looking closely, it might have passed for a bird making a dive. Its descent was slow at first, above and off to the side of High Street Mall's east entrance, but the weight quickly accelerated, course unaltered by the evening breeze. A few birds resting on tree branches scattered at the sight.
Time's up. Brace for impact.
Cindy Moon landed with a crash in the dumpster behind the High Street Mall branch of Burgerpit. The impact sent pieces of soggy lettuce and torn tomato slices flying in every direction, trash bags bursting as they squeezed under the force of her fall. Even while compromised, Cindy could feel a few cracks throughout her body that could only mean fractures and broken bones, and only the course of adrenaline kept her from crying out in pain. Instead, she winced. Blinked. A few times as her vision came into focus. There was a good chance that she'd sustained a concussion, too. None of those facts alarmed her too much — either her advanced healing would have her back on her feet before long, or she'd get a nice long break in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s custody. Worse things had happened before.
Taking advantage of the brief time before her pain receptors would kick into gear, Cindy groaned and sat up in the dumpster. Her ears were immediately met with the high-pitched scream of an employee who had gone back to investigate the source of the sound.
"Um," Cindy croaked, rubbing the back of her neck. "Sorry about the mess."