Chapter Text
Ashlyn takes a pair of black combat boots from the rack. She loosens the laces and slips them on starting the from the left. Tying her shoes is something she oddly enjoys. Maybe it has do with how much of her youth was spent preparing point shoes? It was always so calming to break in the shoe, applying glue, sewing, she might buy a pair just to relive her teen years.
Standing up from her crouched position she dusts off her thighs. Not that there’s any dust, it’s just become a part of her routine. She looks in the mirror right by the front door ensuring her braids are clean, her red uniform pressed and her baggy jeans being just the perfect amount of baggy. The little amount of makeup she uses takes away the obvious tiredness in her face. She has tried getting more into makeup but she ends up getting too tired to clean it off properly, let alone do it everyday.
Her nightly visitors certainly don’t help with the tiredness.
She smiles slightly at her reflection before sighing and grabbing her bag and jacket off the rack. Despite it being the summer it has been raining a lot lately. She opens the door and quickly locks it before walking towards the stairs. They did have an elevator but walking is better for you. It also helps wake her up since she ran out of coffee two days ago.
She was supposed to have the day off today because it’s June 3rd but the coworker she is closest to, Varnika, had called and asked if Ashlyn could take her shift. She said something about a gender reveal her girlfriend’s sister is having? She wasn’t paying much attention to what Varnika was saying.
Ashlyn not one to say no to money said she’d cover. But still she was supposed to have the day off because it is June 3rd.
If you couldn’t tell, based off of Ashlyn’s mention of the date, it’s her birthday. She didn’t hate the day per se she just doesn’t have the best memories surrounding it. Her parents had died four days before her 17th birthday. It’s been 5 years since then.
She is now 22 years old.
Losing her parents nearly broke her, she had always been extremely close with them despite their jobs keeping them away so often and the “odd” relationship she was told they had. She was told growing up that she was most like her mom but she got along better with her dad. She sometimes thinks it’s one of those things where you can’t enjoy the company of someone too similar to you, not that she very much believes in it anyways.
They were the reason she got into ballet. The act that managed to regulate Ashlyn’s outbursts as a child. Her psychologist growing up told her it was because of her lack of friends. Ashlyn never disagreed with him.
Anyways, ballet has been her virtue as long as she could remember. The calming, repetitive motions. The sharp, controlled motions. It helped her have control of her body and mind.
When fighting you had to have strong control of your movements and confidence in executing them. Ballet coincidently helped her with that.
She would later learn it wasn’t a coincidence.
Ballet is precision.
Ballet is calmness even through struggle.
Ballet is taking control.
Ballet builds endurance.
Those are all things she had been told by her parents. Eventually they used these sayings to justify the training she received alongside ballet.
Her parents had insisted on Ashlyn learning how to protect herself, especially because of their job.
Being hero’s meant anyone who wanted to hurt them would attempt to do it through their daughter. They needed a way to ease their daughter into that idea. They put Ashlyn in ballet around 7 years old. Once she turned 9 they started the self defense classes.
Ashlyn barely remembers her childhood she doesn’t know why. Her mood sours a little at the thought of losing so many memories with her parents.
Hopping off the last step of three stories she walks through the lobby, through the front entrance, and to the side walk. Looking up at the darkening sky, despite it being 3pm, Ashlyn is grateful she grabbed her jacket before leaving the apartment. She slips it on and continues her walk to her place of work.
She always walks to work. She has money to buy a car she just doesn’t see the need too, not when she has two perfectly fine legs.
Eventually the bright red sign of the gas station comes into view. Glancing around the parking lot, it seems oddly empty for the afternoon on a Tuesday.
Surely that isn’t a bad omen right? Ashlyn feels she just jinxed herself thinking that.
She pushes the door open, a bell goes off, and she starts for the one and only check out counter which currently holds a smiling Varnika.
“Ashlyn!”, she grins brightly at the red head.
Said red head smiles softly at her name being called. She walks behind the register, behind her friend, and lightly pushes her away.
“Go to the gender reveal, I’m here now.”
“Thank you so so so much! My sister in law will be so happy I can make it!” The brunette bobs her head excitedly turning around to face her. “I will send you all the videos, I can’t wait to find out if I’m having a niece or nephew!” She says softly but eagerly.
Ashlyn nods and once again pushes her away from the check out.
“Go have fun.”
Varnika smiles impossibly brighter and hops away and out of the store.
She smiles at the back of her coworker before pulling out her phone to clock in. She needs to make sure she’s being paid of course, she’s not doing this for free.
Now done with that all Ashlyn has to do is wait for a customer. She pulls her bag off setting it next to her person and starts digging through it checking for any source of entertainment other than her phone. She pulls a book out of her bag, Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins. She is about halfway through it, might as well finish reading it.
Around thirty minutes later she hears the bell signifying that a customer has walked in. She instantly stands up straighter and looks up with a smile plastered on her face. It’s a gangly man, maybe around 38? All black baggy clothing, and black hair to match. He doesn’t seems to be trouble so Ashlyn slightly relaxes.
It’s been ingrained into her that she needs to assess if someone is an immediate threat. She’s never been the best at it but her mind is accurate enough that it wasn’t ever an issue.
She bookmarks the page she is on and pushes it aside to give her full attention to the stranger roaming the store. He enters every lane and looks around rapidly. He is slowly rising in the levels of danger.
Up and up the ranks he goes when he starts looking at the roof presumably for cameras. Ashlyn’s hand sneaks beneath the counter and slides around before finding the button.
The button immediately alerts the authorities when pressed.
The strange man reaches the max declaring immediate threat when Ashlyn hears the click of a gun being pulled out of a holster. She presses the button.
Staying calm like she was taught she puts both her hands in view when the man points it at her. Ashlyn has two knives on her person. If needed she can defend herself. She has one in her left boot, and when she means in she means literally in, it is apart of the sole. The other in her waistband on the right.
She looks the man in the eye.
Green meets brown.
“Give me the money in the register!”, the man yells forcefully.
“I’m afraid I cannot sir.”
He steps forward closer to the register and shakes the gun at it. “Only the money in the register I don’t need anymore”
“I’m afraid I cannot sir.” Her eyes trail to his shoulders, they are shaking? His body language says he’s scared.
“Just-“, he drags a rough, aged, hand through his hair. Blowing out some air he states, “I just need money nothing else just the money I don’t want to hurt you but I need that money.”
Just as Ashlyn’s about to repeat herself for the third time the bell, signifying a new customer, chimes.
The robber turns his head at the new arrival, turning away from Ashlyn. She walks back a few steps before running towards the counter.
She slams a hand onto it to keep her steady while jumping over the counter slamming her feet into the, now distracted, robber. The man grunts and there’s a bang.
There’s, presumably, a muffled crash from when both Ashlyn and the man hit the ground. She doesn’t know how loud it is since her ears are ringing and refuse to perceive any other sound.
Perks of being right next to a gun that was just fired.
He elbows her side hard enough to bruise while she presses him into the floor. She punches him once, twice, there’s a crunch, and she stops.
Her full attention is on the man below her. He is frozen in shock at her attack but Ashlyn knows it won’t be for long so she reaches for his left hand, which is still holding the gun, and quickly pries open his stuck fingers.
Once it is in her own hand she slowly lifts herself up from the man and points his own gun at him.
“On your stomach”, she can’t even hear her own voice.
Damn her super hearing.
He doesn’t react, maybe the shot messed up his ears too? She tries once more before simply tapping the man with her foot and making a spinning motion with her pointer finger.
He seems to wake up at this and starts shaking like a leaf. He stares up at her, she does the motion once more before he understands. He settles on his stomach and Ashlyn takes both his arms, crosses them, and places her left foot on them.
She feels a little bad that she’s making him lay on his front considering she just broke his nose and won’t be able to breathe properly. She then remembers that today was going amazing, she was getting over time, finishing a wonderful book, it is her birthday, and he drew a gun on her.
She feels less bad.
She presses down once, firmly, hoping the man takes the hint before lifting the gun and pointing it at the newcomer who is just standing by the door watching.
Looking over their entire body, it’s not hard to understand who they are, and why they did not flee at the display of violence.
It is Orpheus.
The famous vigilante Orpheus, that is, not the Greek man Orpheus who failed to save his love.
His bright blonde hair peeks out of a dark red hood. His white fox mask, with eerie black spaces for eyes, tilted at her.
Despite him being a ‘hero for the people’ Ashlyn refuses to lower the gun. He has recently been seen shooting one of Jessica Clark’s assistants.
Despite the Clark’s simply being a famous business family, anyone who crosses them seems to find a century of misfortune and misery. If Ashlyn had to compare them to something she would say Bruce Wayne. Though maybe she shouldn’t compare them to him since Bruce is living a double life as a hero which they certainly aren’t? He is fictional too so maybe it doesn’t matter that much?
She means it in the sense that they are loved, feared, and respected for their work. So even though Orpheus is equally as loved in this city, being seen consorting with him in any way shape or form right now would mean having the Clark’s on your doorstep.
Ashlyn can’t afford that attention.
So here she stands with her attempted robber’s gun in hand prepared to shoot Orpheus. Her ears have calmed down a little so she can hear the sirens coming. They feel as if they were filled with cotton as well as water which means the sirens are quite closer than she can make out.
But that also means she can now hear the tell tale sound of a phantom.
Orpheus being a Phantom? Now that is interesting, especially considering the Phantoms are the infamous villain group of this state. Or well infamous for the ones who are in that world, meaning any and all heros, vigilantes, and other villains. We of course can’t forget the medics as well. Not all of them know but once they reach level nine they are made aware of why there are almost never ending bodies in their hospitals.
Level nine can mean different things everywhere in the world for doctors but here it means you are the best of the best and that’s all that matters.
Regular civilians wouldn’t know who or what a Phantom is. They know there are existing villain groups but nothing quite as ominous as the Phantoms.
They are the reason for the climbing rate of missing children as well as the uptake in the U.S’s death rate.
And for Ashlyn’s parents being six feet under.
So her apprehensiveness of the Greek named vigilante just turned to outward dislike. It would be hate but she doubts Orpheus was involved in their deaths.
The stare down continues, Ashlyn’s steady gun, Orpheus’s still stance.
His head still cocked like a birds.
“The cops are coming.”
His voice sounds smooth and almost delighted. You can hear the robotic voice changer pitching his voice higher. It creeps her out.
“Yes, they are.”, Ashlyn clicks her tongue. “Maybe you should get out of here before they take you along with..”
She looks down at the man shes standing on. His head is turned to the side, his mouth open. A circle of red surrounding his head. He’s still breathing. She looks back up at Orpheus.
“His name is William Preston.” The red clad vigilante says almost… sadly?
Ashlyn’s eyes narrow. “How do you know that?”
“Let him go, he has good reasons for attempting to take money.”
“Which are?”
“His daughter.”
She glances back down.
“A Phantom asking me to let go of a bad guy. How surprising.” She says monotone.
The blonde tenses.
“…How do you know that?”, he says with a tremble.
The roles seem to have been reversed, he is asking the questions now.
Ashlyn goes to respond when the cops finally arrive.
“You should go Orpheus.”
Orpheus is now staring outside of the window. His white mask appears purple from the red and blue lights.
“Yea probably.” He shrugs his shoulder as well as his arms? Literally no one shrugs their arms, well besides this guy now.
The area he stands in goes blurry.
Suddenly the body beneath Ashlyn is gone, the gun, as well as the vigilante.
The pool of blood still there.
The cops come bursting through the small door with their guns raised towards the two spaces that used to be occupied.
“Shit!” The last one to come inside yells.
She glances down at her now empty right hand. She suddenly feels extremely tired and her left side hurts.
Another grabs their shoulder radio and presses the side button. “Orpheus was here and took the suspect.”
Ah right Orpheus has the ability to teleport. She was too preoccupied with him being a Phantom that she forgot that little detail.