The Control We Ought to Have (Sinestro)
Dec 18, 2012 17:56:21 GMT -5
Post by jessilynn on Dec 18, 2012 17:56:21 GMT -5
This wasn't how her evening was supposed to play out. There was supposed to be a simple trip to the deli - her favorite little hole-in-the-wall place. Possibly a coffee run, and then definitely a movie that called for popcorn. The place wasn't far, and so Susan had decided to walk. That's where she'd gone wrong.
Susan hadn't slept much the night before, and it made her senses groggy. Her reaction time was greatly decreased when she was tired. Which probably explained why her small handbag was now in the hands of a tall man and his two burly companions and she was being shoved back up against a brick wall down the side alley.
It had started off with a feigned autograph request. Susan had politely declined with just a bit of a guilty twinge. She hated giving them. She wasn't a celebrity or a creature to be gawked at. She certainly wasn't a hero.
Now, the men kept pacing back and forth like vultures waiting to dive in on their dinner. Susan probably should have been more afraid than she actually was, but it wasn't like they could keep her here.
One of the men came in close and grabbed her by the jaw. With two quick flicks of his wrist, he turned her face back and forth, looking her over as if she were a piece of fruit at the market. Anger flared as her steel blue eyes studied his face. There wasn't much to be read there. Susan twisted at the waist, lifted her right leg, and wrapped it backwards behind him. One swift jerk sent him tumbling and freed her jaw. Amateur.
As the fellow scrambled to pick himself up, the other two advanced. Susan extended her arm and sent a pulse of energy at the nearest, knocking him into a trash can. The other grabbed her wrist and jerked her sideways. It took a second to regain her balance. Tossing her hair back from her face, she delivered a solid kick to his stomach. The man's smirk disappeared as he wheezed and clutched his abdomen, cursing.
A black metal barrel rose level with her face.
"How original." Probably not the wisest choice of words. She immediately regretted them.
Susan froze. Holding her hands up with feigned innocence, she focused on the dead space between them. Unseen energy moved, almost tangibly to Susan, as an invisible wall rippled in front of the gun. Hopefully the fellow's aim wasn't perfect or he'd end up with a ricocheted bullet in his shoulder. What was she thinking? She hoped it was dead on.
This was the control she had grown accustomed to. Being able to rise to the top of any situation that life threw her way. Well, at least as close to the top as any being could possibly climb. Sometimes the mountain of life was just too high.
It was in that wandering moment, brought on no doubt by lack of sleep and insufficient caffeine, that Susan lost sight of the third man in her peripheral. Not for long though. He jerked her attention his way with a sharp jab to the back of her hand. She hadn't seen the knife. Not until it was too late.
Susan felt the warm stickiness before the moment really even registered. Damn. Then there was pain. Not unbearable, but distracting nonetheless.
The man who'd managed to separate himself from the trash took advantage of her diverted gaze and pinned her against the wall. No. Her barrier. She could feel it draining as her mind went in all different directions. His grimy fingers wove into her hair. No. Focus! Concentration was supposed to be her strength.
Susan Storm scrambled to collect her thoughts. If should couldn't, this night would end worse than she'd thought.
Susan hadn't slept much the night before, and it made her senses groggy. Her reaction time was greatly decreased when she was tired. Which probably explained why her small handbag was now in the hands of a tall man and his two burly companions and she was being shoved back up against a brick wall down the side alley.
It had started off with a feigned autograph request. Susan had politely declined with just a bit of a guilty twinge. She hated giving them. She wasn't a celebrity or a creature to be gawked at. She certainly wasn't a hero.
Now, the men kept pacing back and forth like vultures waiting to dive in on their dinner. Susan probably should have been more afraid than she actually was, but it wasn't like they could keep her here.
One of the men came in close and grabbed her by the jaw. With two quick flicks of his wrist, he turned her face back and forth, looking her over as if she were a piece of fruit at the market. Anger flared as her steel blue eyes studied his face. There wasn't much to be read there. Susan twisted at the waist, lifted her right leg, and wrapped it backwards behind him. One swift jerk sent him tumbling and freed her jaw. Amateur.
As the fellow scrambled to pick himself up, the other two advanced. Susan extended her arm and sent a pulse of energy at the nearest, knocking him into a trash can. The other grabbed her wrist and jerked her sideways. It took a second to regain her balance. Tossing her hair back from her face, she delivered a solid kick to his stomach. The man's smirk disappeared as he wheezed and clutched his abdomen, cursing.
A black metal barrel rose level with her face.
"How original." Probably not the wisest choice of words. She immediately regretted them.
Susan froze. Holding her hands up with feigned innocence, she focused on the dead space between them. Unseen energy moved, almost tangibly to Susan, as an invisible wall rippled in front of the gun. Hopefully the fellow's aim wasn't perfect or he'd end up with a ricocheted bullet in his shoulder. What was she thinking? She hoped it was dead on.
This was the control she had grown accustomed to. Being able to rise to the top of any situation that life threw her way. Well, at least as close to the top as any being could possibly climb. Sometimes the mountain of life was just too high.
It was in that wandering moment, brought on no doubt by lack of sleep and insufficient caffeine, that Susan lost sight of the third man in her peripheral. Not for long though. He jerked her attention his way with a sharp jab to the back of her hand. She hadn't seen the knife. Not until it was too late.
Susan felt the warm stickiness before the moment really even registered. Damn. Then there was pain. Not unbearable, but distracting nonetheless.
The man who'd managed to separate himself from the trash took advantage of her diverted gaze and pinned her against the wall. No. Her barrier. She could feel it draining as her mind went in all different directions. His grimy fingers wove into her hair. No. Focus! Concentration was supposed to be her strength.
Susan Storm scrambled to collect her thoughts. If should couldn't, this night would end worse than she'd thought.