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Of three things, Malia was certain. First, her college's psychology department had three of the city's most notorious supervillains. Second, there was a chance—and she knew exactly how large that chance was—that they would get her excellent connections if she took on the city's newest superhero. And third, Malia was, unconditionally and irrevocably, broke and out of luck.
*
"Don't do it," Stiles said, when Malia told him why she was looking for Scott.
"Why?" Malia asked, narrowing her eyes at him.
Stiles shrugged, and moved out of the way so she could slip into the dorm room. There were socks and clothes half falling out of the hamper in the left corner. Scott's bed was done, the comforter wrinkled and hastily thrown over the sheets. Stiles's bed had a cover.
"Hey," Stiles said, when he saw where Malia was looking. "No judging."
Malia shrugged. "I've seen worse."
"Right," Stiles said, climbing back onto the center of his bed. "So, you're going to become a supervillain."
Malia shrugged again. She made her way across the scattered books and papers, on the ground between the door and the desk, pushed up against the large window. She pulled the chair out and sprawled across it, one arm hanging over the backrest, her head tipped back so she could stare at the ceiling.
"Listen, Stiles," she said. "I barely made it through high school. I hate college, and my major sucks, so if I'm going to actually be able to make something of myself, I need this. I really, really, really need this."
"Yeah, I know," he said. "Scott, though."
Malia sighed. "I need a suit."
There was a resounding crash and the thump of books against carpet. Malia straightened up, slowly, in her chair. Stiles was standing a step away from her, eyes shining in anticipation, and grinning like all of his wishes had come true.
Malia groaned. "Don't tell, Scott," she said.
*
These were the problems and observations Malia discovered.
One, capes were the most annoying things in the world, and any superhero, or supervillain, who used them needed to reevaluate all their life choices. Unless it was Mr. M. Doom—no PH. D, just a double masters—because Mr. M. Doom taught all the psychology labs, and his cape was a masterpiece. Malia would go to her grave supporting that statement.
"So, no capes," Stiles said, when Malia got caught on the closet door for the third time.
Lydia scoffed from where she was sitting on Malia's bed. They'd given in and told Lydia what Malia was doing, because Lydia understood gender and socioeconomic disparities, and she was a good person, deep down.
"What?" Stiles asked.
"Who is she supposed to be fighting?" Lydia asked, lowering herself gently onto the floor. "And are their weaknesses capes? Because if not, then there's no reason she's wearing a cape."
Malia made a loud, impatient noise. "I'm right here," she said.
Lydia turned, her eyes serious, but there was something about the way she was looking at Malia that made Malia take a step back. Which led to observation number two: Spandex caused chaffing.
"No," Malia said, when Lydia finally got her into the black, full body, spandex suit. "No."
At that point, she'd just pulled a sweatshirt over her head, turned around, and left the room. Which had led to the biggest problem of all. Just as Malia was leaving her room, Kira, the pretty, black-haired, spring semester transfer student, was coming out of her room across the hall. Normally, Malia would go over, flirt shamelessly, and watch Kira's pretty blushing face, until one of them had to go.
That day, however, Kira had come out of her room, wearing a dark red bodysuit, with a large, flaming K across the chest. She'd stopped short when she saw Malia, her eyes automatically drawn to Malia's legs in her spandex.
"Um," Kira said, blushing bright red. "Nice pants."
"Nice secret identity," Malia said, nodding at the cape in Kira's hands.
Kira looked down at herself, as though just now realizing what she was wearing. "Oh," she said. "You're not going to tell anyone, are you?"
Kira winced at whatever she saw on Malia's face. "I mean—" she started.
"No," Malia said.
"Oh," Kira said, her smile growing now. "Thanks."
"No problem," Malia said.
They stared at each other from across the small hallway, neither of them knowing how to end the conversation.
"So," Kira said, gesturing at her cape. "I have to go. Protect the city. And stuff."
"Right," Malia nodded. "Sure."
"Okay," Kira said. "Bye."
She waved cheerily as she jogged down the hallway. Then, she stopped at the end, and ran back.
"Sorry," she said to Malia. "Forgot my jacket."
Malia wasn't even trying not to smile. "Right," she said. "Have to protect the secret identity."
Kira gave her a helpless look, slipped back into her room, and came out wearing an oversized Beacon Hills sweatshirt. Her cape was gone, probably stuffed into the shoulderbag she had.
"Bye, for real now," Kira said, waving. "And thanks."
Malia waved until she couldn't see Kira anymore.
"Well, shit," Malia said to the empty hallway.
If the walls could answer, they'd probably agree.
*
The flaw with being The Kitsune's archnemesis, aside from the fact that The Kitsune was Kira, was that Malia didn't actually want to hurt anyone. She was okay with annoying The Kitsune—knocking over a couple of old cars in the middle of the highway at rush hour, hanging douchebag politicians from bridges, stalling trains, that kind of thing. But Malia wasn't really going to actually hurt anyone.
"Damn it," Malia said too often to her psychology professors. "She fucked everything up, again."
"Do better," they said to her. But the four of them had a kind of supervillain understanding. Heroes sucked, and the supervillains were fighting a losing battle.
Malia's grades, in any case, were better than she expected, and at the psychology workshops, Dr. Blake introduced Malia to some of the best psychologists in California.
"This is a good one," Dr. Blake said to a pretty dark skinned woman, with bright eyes that seemed a little too-knowing. "You'll be seeing a lot more of her, Morrell."
"I'm sure I will," Dr. Morrell said, exchanging emails with Malia.
Malia resisted the urge to fistpump. She walked back with Dr. Blake, both of them saying nothing of importance as they climbed the large hill to get to the psychology building. They talked about Malia's abnormal psychology class for a bit, then separated, as Malia turned right to the dorms, and Dr. Blake went inside the psychology building.
Malia crossed the small street to the other side of campus. She had to go past the large soccer field to get to her dorm building, and she spent most of the walk thinking up of new ways to annoy The Kitsune. She refused to call her Kira. Malia had to set a line somewhere.
"You need a name," Lydia said, as soon as Malia stepped into their dorm room.
"I need a name," Malia said at the same time.
"She has a name," Allison said.
Which is how Allison found out that Malia had been the reason she missed her test, the week before.
"You caused the traffic jam?" Allison asked.
Her voice was deceptively calm.
"Yes," Malia said. "But the psychology professors are giving me extra credit, and I need connections."
"Oh," Allison said, relaxing immediately. "That makes sense."
Lydia nodded sympathetically.
"Warn me, next time," Allison added.
Malia promised, and they spent the rest of the afternoon coming up with a supervillain name for Malia.
"No," Malia said, for the fiftieth time that afternoon. "I'm not going to be The Infamous Swallow."
Lydia and Allison both raised their eyebrows. Allison's eyebrow raise was much more suggestive.
In the end, they decided that Malia needed a better costume before she could get a name. She'd been wearing all of her darkest clothes for the past weeks, with a ski mask pulled over her head. Lydia said nothing, but her silence was enough disapproval.
"I'll help you," Allison said. ''
Malia went with her. The end result, she had to admit, was pretty impressive. Malia had a body-hugging suit made of soft stretchy material, and a bright red mask that covered half her cheeks up to her forehead. The mask was smooth and fitted, the straps securing it firmly to Malia's face, so that no matter how much she moved, it stayed in place.
"Scarlet Fox," Allison said. "For the mask."
Malia stopped twisting. "Thanks," she said, softly. "How did you get all this?"
Allison smiled sadly at her. "It used to belong to my mother," she said.
*
The Scarlet Fox, it turned out, had never been a superhero. When Malia typed the name into a search engine, she got a list of articles on one of Beacon Hills most destructive supervillains. And not a supervillain like Malia or her professors were. The articles talked about an actual, real, power to manipulate the weather, kind of supervillain.
"Fuck," Malia whispered in the quiet of the library.
The librarian shushed her.
The more she read, the more Malia felt completely inadequate. She wasn't doing the mask, or the name, any justice. Not to mention how all of the supervillains these days were mostly annoyed, underpaid adults, or overeager teenagers. Not that the heroes were any better, but at least some of them had acutal powers. Kira could fly, and the one they called Alpha had crazy speed and super strength. And that was only in Beacon Hills.
"I need to retire," Malia said to her laptop screen.
But some part of her also felt like she owed Allison's mother something, as though she had to uphold the supervillain name. More importantly, however, Malia could barely afford undergrad, not to mention graduate school, which she needed if she wanted to work anywhere decent. She really, really, really needed those connections.
*
Malia's junior year at college went like this. She woke up, studied before class, went to class, snuck off to cause trouble in the greater Beacon Hills area, did homework, watched the news, flirted with Kira, googled her supervillain name, went to sleep, and repeated it all the next day. Her grades went up, her professors wrote her letters of recommendation. She applied to graduate programs, had lunch with Allison and Lydia. Sometimes with Stiles, and with Scott, though those were rarer, because Scott had a tendency to talk about Scarlet Fox.
"The Kitsune thinks she's not really a supervillain," Scott said, during one of their lunches, halfway through their second semester. "I think it's because she likes Scarlet Fox."
Stiles froze, his fork halfway to his mouth.
"Hang on," Malia said, narrowing her eyes at Scott. "How do you know that?"
Scott opened his mouth, but said nothing. He glanced at Stiles, then at the dining hall.
"Um," he said.
"You might as well," Stiles said.
Scott leaned across the table. Malia leaned in, too.
"I'm Alpha," he whispered. "The Kitsune and I kind of have a superhero meeting every week."
"So you know who she is?" Malia asked, her thoughts still stuck on the part where Scott thought Kira might like her.
Scott shrugged. "Not really," he said. "We kind of keep the costumes on. Secret identities and all that."
"Right," Malia said. "But she said she liked Scarlet Fox, the most badass supervillain in Beacon Hills?"
"Most annoying, probably," Stiles said, rolling his eyes.
Malia sneered at him.
Scott shrugged. "As much as The Kitsune can like her archnemesis."
Interesting, Malia thought.
*
Malia had had a crush on Kira from the moment Kira tripped over the legs of the kid that liked to sit in the hallway. She'd dropped right into Malia's arms, and blushed when Malia had straightened her up. Malia, who had always been very straightforward, had made it very clear that she wouldn't mind making out with Kira. When Kira hadn't responded positively, Malia had assumed Kira wasn't interested, but because Kira said she wasn't bothered by the flirting, Malia had kept doing it.
Now, standing across a sea of foam cups from each other, Malia realizes that the reason Kira hadn't wanted to go on a date was probably because she was a superhero. Not that Kira would want to date her archnemesis either, but Malia had insider information.
"So," Malia, or rather Scarlet Fox, called out. "Alpha told me you liked me."
Kira, or rather The Kitsune, crossed her arms across her chest. "You don't scare me."
Kira was flying, but they were far away enough from each other that they were yelling. Malia didn't even care that they looked ridiculous. She was enjoying herself too much.
"Like my present?" she yelled, gesturing at the foam cups. "Took a really long time."
It had taken most of the night, even with Lydia, Stiles, and Allison's help. They'd had to bring three cars, one for the cups and two for the water. They'd managed to cover a span of ten blocks on four sides. Malia was kind of proud.
"Why are you doing this?" The Kitsune called. "You're not even trying to hurt anybody."
Malia shrugged.
"I know there's good in you," The Kitsune said.
She'd flown closer to Malia, not quite on the ground, but close enough that they didn't have to yell at each other.
"I'm pretty sure there isn't," Malia said, her grin cocksure. "Unless, you're volunteering."
The Kitsune wore a mask, but Malia knew enough about Kira to know that she'd be blushing.
"Right," Malia said. "Gotta go."
Kira didn't even try to stop her.
*
The next time Malia saw Kira, outside in the hallway as usual, she leaned against the wall outside of her room, and grinned.
"Fight anyone particularly interesting, this week?" Malia asked, sure that her smile was going to give her away.
Kira blushed. "No," she said, stubbornly keeping her eyes straight ahead. "No one in particular."
Which was perfectly fine with Malia.
*
Because she had very little to entertain herself with, aside from school and the supervillain thing, Malia started planning elaborate ways to have Scarlet Fox declare her love for The Kitsune. Lydia said she didn't care, but she was there every evening, along with Allison, as Malia cut out paper hearts, or planned a twenty-block flashmob.
"She's going to kill you," Allison said, going through the list of things Malia had planned for the next two weeks.
Lydia made a noise of agreement from where she was sitting on the floor. She had a stack of love poems Malia had copied off the internet.
"I don't like this one," Lydia said, setting a poem to the side.
She had two stacks, one for poems she approved off, and one larger stack for poems she hated. Malia was going to cover all the billboards with them, and cover Kira's superhero name with hearts. She'd also spray painted, Mrs. Scarlet Fox The Kitsune, on all the walls Kira passed on her way in an out of Central Beacon Hills.
"Beautiful," said Poison Arrow, Malia's Psych 300 professor, after the flashmob. "Annoy The Kitsune to death. Brilliant."
Which wasn't exactly what Malia was trying to do, but it worked out for her, and she wasn't about to complain.
"Um, yeah," she said. "Exactly."
*
Except then, Malia made a mistake.
Malia was running late to class, because she had stayed up late last night, cutting out paper hearts. She still had glitter in her hair, and she'd never actually taken off her suit, or the mask. Malia walked out in full supervillain costume, straight into Kira, who was just slipping into her room.
"Shit," Malia said, when she realized she still had her mask on.
"You," Kira said, furiously.
Malia opened her mouth to explain, but Kira punched her in the shoulder, hard.
"Ow," Malia said.
"I hate you," Kira said, shoving Malia. "I want to murder you."
"Hang on," Malia said.
Kira ignored her and snatched the mask off her face. Her eyes widened when she met Malia's brown eyes, as though maybe she hadn't believed that Scarlet Fox was actually Malia.
"I actually liked you," Kira said.
She sounded sad now, and Malia didn't know what to do. "I can't afford graduate school," she said desperately. "M. Doom, Blake, and Poison Arrow are my professors. I need connections."
"Oh," Kira said, visibly relaxing. "Why didn't you say so?"
Malia shrugged at her, but Kira didn't seem to want to hear the answer anyway. She leaned forward, grabbed hold of the front of Malia's costume, and dragged her into a bruising kiss.
"Oh," Malia said, when they pulled apart.
Kira tossed her hair over her shoulders. "Next time," she said. "I'm going to get there in time to stop you."
Malia grinned. "Oh," she said. "Okay. It's on."
So, really, maybe it hadn't been a mistake.