When I sleep it's for like an hour and then I wake up. It's a ridiculous cycle that drives me insane. It's probably because of the experiments on my mother when she was pregnant with me. I guess it's what I get for the exchange of my greatness. Because being this great comes with a price. I toot my own horn often, but only to myself, not like Wally. That kid, he's simply ridiculous.
It's three in the morning and Wally jumps through my window, and by Wally I mean the Watcher. There's a difference. Wally is sort of okay. The Watcher is an ass hat. Wally is the one who holds the door open for you when you have bags of groceries and The Watcher is the one who gives you that wicked smile while the elevator doors closes and probably waves at you too. Bitch.
"What are you doing in here? I could've been with someone or something!"
I can see his stupid smirk through his ridiculous mask.
"Good one Bea."
He sits on my bed. Sometimes I wish he'd come to my house in regular Wally pajamas. I wonder what they would be like.
"Hey..." Okay so it's true, it's almost unthinkable for me to be with anyone. I may be really good at bad guy beat down, but catching a so called "catch" well that's not really my forte. Pretty much life isn't really my forte. The only thing I'm good at is breathing and being Beatrice the night owl who catches the creeps, not so much the girl who goes out and socializes and gets the guys and that sort of stuff. Who needs that when you are me?
"Here," Wally hands me a drink. I look at it and then at him and take a small sip, "Are you trying to kill me?" I ask.
I have two weaknesses. Guns because they will kill me and milk because it makes me violently ill.
"What?" he asks,"It's a latte, it's not poison."
I raised an eyebrow,"With milk? Yeah. Thanks. Lactose intollerant genius," I walk to my bathroom and pour out the beverage.
"Can I ask you something Beatrice?"
"No."
"Are you scared you'll never have a normal life? Do you ever wonder if you'll ever get married and have children? Do you ever sit there and ask yourself if it will ever be possible? Is it like all the old comic books where you can't ever be with anyone because there's always the threat of them getting hurt? Do you get what I'm saying?" he asks with his brilliant presence.
It's weird but it's something I think about constantly, but you never tell someone you don't trust that. His brain seems to be almost identical to mine in that way. I have this intense need to throw up, but I hold it down.
"No. I don't," lies.
"Oh."
"Yeah you are pretty weird," I let out a fake laugh.
"Really," it is not a question. He knows I'm lying.
"We should probably go, you know, scouting for bad people and stuff....." I itch my head in nervousness.
"You know, I am the one with the costume but I feel like you're the one trying to hide from everything. It's weird. I wouldn't say I'm the weird one," he puts on his mask with a smile.
We find ourselves in our new lair. Yes "our" new lair. I had this thing inside me that sort of needed to have a little more reassurance that I wouldn't be dead at the age of 20, so thus I have agreed to work with the guy. It took everything I had to say I would. I almost vomited in seven times before I officially agreed and I eventually had to write it down on a note because I couldn't say the words. I guess it's ridiculous but I'm an independent.
He lies on an abandoned table throwing a yo-yo of all things. I hate yo-yos.
"Will you stop please!" I grab it out of his hand and throw it across the room and it breaks in half. I smile wickedly, "A yo-yo? Really?"
He sighs, it has no effect on him whatsoever, "Wouldn't it be so easy if we just liked each other? We wouldn't even have to worry about the other one most of the time. Both of us are pretty capable of taking care of ourselves if someone tried to kill us or whatever people do," he sits up and takes off his mask because he, for some reason, thinks he needs to wear it at all moments when we're in the lair, but I suppose right now is an exception.
"Why do you keep saying this weird stuff. It creeps me out," I stand away from him because looking at him makes me cringe.
"I'm just saying. I know it would never happen, I was just saying how much easier our lives would be. I am not saying we should. Okay? So stop being awkward."
"No, you stop being awkward," I turn around and Wally is too close. He smiles and lets out a chuckle, "I'm just kidding," he steps back.
The thing about guns is that they are much worse then milk. Milk makes me want to throw up. Guns make things really painful. You'd rather not breath then feel the pain.
Wally and I rush to the first scene of the night. I feel like it's way to early for a drug bust, but people try to throw curve balls, I don't know why, probably because they are idiotic fools that think that they won't get caught if they do it an hour earlier then they did it before. (Good one guys.)
It's so dark everywhere but we can't be obvious so we have no light. I can hardly see anything, I don't understand how anyone can get anything done around here. I begin to pace because I am easily bored. I need stimulationn. Don't throw me in the dark and say wait here. I begin to wander a bit. The Watcher (because that is what he now, he is no longer Wally) stands his ground, silently. He won't talk to me at all.
"Alright I am going crazy," I whisper and wander off to scout the location.
They never tell you when you witness someone being almost dead (or you THINKING they are almost dead) that you see their life flash before your eyes.
A gun rings through the air. I freeze in my spot and almost wiz my pants. I don't think Wally or The Watcher would use his gun unless it is a one hundred percent need for it. I sprint in the direction from which the noise came. I am not calm and collected, I am frantic. I have trained myself for situations but there's this thing called being a human and everything you've once known goes out the window and all you do is panic. That's how I am at this moment.
I see Wally on the ground and I immediatly point and stun the man who was running down the alley way. I know there has to be more so I stand over Wally checking each possible hiding spot. I take down three more in the matter of minutes.
I take a deep breath and look down at The Watcher and take off his mask. His face is wet with sweat. This is when it happens, his life flashing before my eyes. He was supposed to get married with a girl that has like beautiful dark hair that blows in the wind appropriately and never gets stuck in her red lipstick. He was supposed to have babies, lots of them, at least three, and all of them would have his blue eyes. He was supposed to have the house with the fence and the dog. I am the one who will never be happy with that sort of life, but he would be. I should be the one shot, because I can almost predict this is how I will go.
I quickly drop to my hands and knee and look for the spot where he's been shot. There is two in the shoulder. So most likely no death. He rolls over and throws up on my shoes. It's gross but I'm relieved.
I look up and let out a breath of tension.
"Thank god. You idiot you got shot," I say stepping away from the vomit and deciding to lay next to him, "Don't worry the ambulance is coming."
"Good," he says in a wincing voice.
"Yeah, you can't get out of having those blue eyed babies. It would most likely cause damage to the world."
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh. Nothing."
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