hero's work

There are exactly three constants in Terra’s world: she will always try to save people, it will always end with rubble under her feet, and she will always run. Every. Single. Time. But with each passing incident she’s slowly becoming more and more aware of a secret fourth constant, hidden right in front of her oblivious face: she’s an idiot. A useless, worthless idiot. She doesn’t know why she keeps doing this, keeps deluding herself into thinking she can make a difference when it has not once ended in any way besides disaster. It’s the power, she supposes. It thrums under her skin, constant and unrelenting, and it’s impossible to ignore. It’s a responsibility, and it calls out to her every time she hears a scream. When she can do the kind of stuff that she can, she should feel obligated to try and use it, right? To try and help. But all the good intentions in the world can’t change the facts; she can’t control this, and she’s no hero. Still, she holds out hope. Maybe, if she keeps moving, keeps searching, one day she’ll find some place that will have her, some place she can help and not hurt.

This isn’t that place.

She’s not totally sure where she is, exactly. It looks like Star City, she thinks, but Gotham’s stench is unmistakable, and this street’s doing a pretty good impression of it, so it’s up in the air. And as if being completely lost (if the aimless can get lost) wasn’t enough, it’s raining, too. Terra silently fumes at herself for not having hydrokinesis abilities instead of the awful, destructive thing she’s actually been cursed with. She’s completely drenched, sneakers practically overflowing, clothes chafing uncomfortably against her, but hey, it had been a while since the last time she’d been able to secure a shower, so, ups and downs. She’s gotta find some place to dry off soon though; on top of everything else going wrong with her life, catching a cold is the last thing she needs.

Opportunity presents itself when she turns the next street corner. It takes the form of a man, tall, broad, and generally a lot more well-off than she is based on the expensive clothes peeking out from beneath his jacket. There’s not exactly a parade going on tonight, so she has little doubt about what it is he’s seeking, lingering in the street at this hour in this kind of town, and the appraising look he gives her as she approaches confirms it. Disgusting. She’s tempted, in that moment, to just let go, let the power take hold, smash the nearest boulder against the guy’s skull and make off with whatever goods he’s carrying. Heck, even if his pockets are empty, the jacket alone entices her. But...that’s not what heroes do, and she might not be a hero yet, might not be a hero ever, but that doesn’t mean she can just stop trying. So, how do heroes go about getting a dry change of clothes and a hot meal?

Probably not by sinking to their knees and taking some random dude’s dick into their mouths on the sidewalk, but Terra’s been walking all night, and she’s so tired, and so cold, and sometimes the easiest answer is the best one, so give her a break. She hasn’t done this before, and there’s no hiding that, having to pull herself off to rasp and cough every time he goes too fast, too deep, but eventually she manages to make it to the end. The taste she can handle, but the sheer volume of it she cannot, and she finds herself choking once more, stray droplets dribbling out her mouth and down her chin and splattering on the cement. The guy does use his sleeve to wipe it off her though, so hey, maybe chivalry’s not dead yet.

She feels small, pathetic, and no amount of reminding herself that she could crush this man into bloody paste without even trying makes her feel better. In fact, it makes her feel quite a bit worse. Good people don’t think that way, don’t wind up in situations like this in the first place. And the worst of it hasn’t even come yet. Not even close. Still, dry clothes, a hot shower, and an actual bed. She repeats it in her head a few times, letting the rhythm of the mantra soothe her. She needs this, and she’s come too far already to stop now. She can't be weak. So she stays on the ground a moment longer, catching her breath, steeling herself, and then takes the man’s proffered hand.