Clash
It was all so clear now. The Xanax wasn't helping her. It was holding her back.
Perfectua was what she needed.
Perfectua and her sapphires. Together, they made her feel like she was on top of the world.
Okay, maybe actually *being* on top of the world felt pretty good on its own.
Or if not the top of the world, at least her part of it.
By day, the familiar tower jutting from the east hills was the administrative building of the state university.
By night, it was Sapphire's sanctuary at the edge of the sky.
Ricky, Dino, Noel, Miguel, Sasha, the mean girl, none of them would ever understand what she'd been through. But that was okay now.
From up here, she felt *right*.
She felt like *flying* again.
So with a rush of air, she did.
Climbing, climbing, watching the city lights contract below her.
High enough to feel both great and small at the same time, but low enough to still sense Mother Earth's warm caress.
Sapphire let herself go, feeling the air current wrap her up and carry her. The swirling dance of her costume fell to quiet ruffling.
Up here, drifting weightless between the flashlight moon and the nightlight glow of the slumbering city, Sapphire felt pure. Her problems seemed as small and remote as the tiny houses and lonely cars below.
She knew she couldn't float up here forever. Eventually, she would have to descend. Her troubles would again loom and crowd a girl alone.
But a few moments up here made it all worthwhile.
A low rumbling sound began to intrude on Sapphire's skybound bliss. The superheroine's eyes opened, scanning the night sky for its source. An airliner, banking up toward her. So much for solitude. Best clear out of the flight path before the pilots get an eyeful.
In any case, this wasn't just a pleasure outing. Sapphire had a mission in mind. She was going to give that rat Dino Sinclair something to think about. To hell with Miguel and his endless net-spreading; it wasn't like a single Sapphire strike was going to send an operation that size packing. Besides, they didn't have to know she was on to the chop shop.
Sapphire looked around below and quickly got her bearings. The old warehouse district was down there, to the right.
I always wanted to try this...
A jacknife dive sent the barely-dressed girl hurtling earthward head-first. Within a second, the flapping of her costume became a tugging. Another second and she felt she might lose her clothes altogether.
Hmm, I wonder...
With her hands already out in front of her in the classic dive position, it was just a flick of the wrists to point her palms straight out in front of her. The wind buffeting became more intense, and then...
...the brakes came on. The subtle pushing motion of her hands amplified by the mental picture of a diffuse force beam projected in front of her slowed her descent. A little too much, perhaps. She backed off a bit, and...
Stillness.
It took Sapphire a moment to realize she was indeed still falling, or rather, descending. But with just the right effort, force projected in front of her formed an aerodynamic shield, smoothing the airstream around her somewhat to gently curling eddies tickling her flesh and rustling her costume like leaves in October breeze. And slicing a neat hole in the air in the process, apparently -- with a push from her feet, she sped like a bullet. Things on the ground began to get bigger, faster. What a rush!
A very slight deflection of her hands pointed her like a smart bomb at the chop shop. This is fun! Time to slow down... let's see if *this* works...
Sapphire quickly curled into a ball, the displaced air suddenly roaring past as she did a neat half-somersault and untucked, feet first.
The air lifted and inverted both skirt and top as she descended -- whoops. Good thing nobody's looking! Flexing both legs and arms quickly bled off speed, and in another two seconds the gossamer girl touched down with a perfect three-step landing on the chop shop's roof, slowing into a feather-light walk toward the nearest skylight.
Sapphire pulled her skirt back down on her hips before kneeling for a look inside.
Plenty of activity tonight -- three expensive-looking cars being dismantled, and a fourth one, a black limo-looking thing, waiting for its turn.
No, wait -- who was that walking toward the fourth car? Sapphire squinted. Was it...? Mr. Hotshot Car Thief. The one who'd boosted the Ferrari.
He got in and the headlights came to life. Where was he going? Before the car moved, someone jumped in the passenger side. This looked promising...
The big black luxury sedan slipped out of the warehouse into the night. Sapphire's legs flexed, and she was airborne.
Even from two hundred feet up, the expensive car looked glaringly out of place among the idling semis and rusted derelicts dotting the streets of this industrial neighborhood. Its too-glossy roof gleamed beneath the irregular pattern of sodium streetlamps; its blue-white headlights projected its pedigree. Weren't these thieves taking quite a chance being in so conspicuous a vehicle?
Ten minutes later, the superheroine understood the thief's choice. The houses and smaller apartment buildings were far from tony, but the streets and driveways and carports were peppered with the signs of conspicuous consumption -- there were as many shiny-new BMWs and Mercedes as there were average family sedans. And more pimped-out luxury SUVs than she'd ever seen in one place before.
The thief's sedan rolled up to the end of the street, turned around, and stopped, double-parked.
Sapphire picked a landing spot at the other end of the street, on the corner of a three-story box of stained stucco and rusted-on window bars. She noticed the interior lights of the thief's car never came on as he slipped out and closed the door slowly, giving the car a silent nudge to latch it shut. The car jostled a bit and then pulled away, retreating back the way it had come.
Talk about cocky -- Thief's ride wasn't even going to wait for him.
Even from a hundred yards under spread-thin streetlights his identity was unmistakable. The lanky swagger -- right down the middle of the street! -- the wavy half-dark half-bleached hair, the cocky grin...
It didn't hurt that he was wearing the same sweatsuit he'd been wearing that day she followed him downtown.
She imagined him living in a neighborhood like this, owning a car like the ones parked here. Wearing too much jewelry. Carrying too much cash. Hitting on too many girls.
Thief took his time walking down the middle of the street. Turning his head first to the left, then to the right, checking out each of the nicer cars on the block. Odd. Sapphire would have thought a car thief would have a specific target, but this guy was *shopping*.
Thief veered toward the biggest and most ostentatious vehicle on the block -- a light-colored Hummer with ridiculous chrome platters for wheels. He walked around behind it and to the passenger side, out of her view. Before she could move, she saw the interior light come on, and a second later she saw him through the driver's side window.
How the hell did he break in so quickly? Did he have a key? Didn't that thing have an alarm?
It was hard to tell now that the interior had dimmed, but it looked like Thief was just sitting there, looking down at the steering wheel, waiting for something to happen. Then the truck came to life. Engine. Lights. Motion. The thing didn't handle like a Ferrari, but Thief seemed to be treating it like one, lurching it away from the curb and launching it down the street.
Damn. He's gonna get away with it!
Not if I can help it.
Sapphire flexed and leaped into the air, forward into a shallow arc aimed for the center of the street. The truck was picking up speed quickly; she'd have to push harder if she was going to intercept.
The superheroine did a slow turn as she descended, backing into her landing so she'd be facing the oncoming truck. She was coming down fast; Thief was going to get an eyeful. So be it.
Then suddenly she found herself hitting the ground -- hard. Shit! She crumpled to a ball with the early impact, hitting knee, thigh, elbow, shoulder... The truck's lights blinded her; she heard a scrubbing, chirping sound as it approached -- braking hard. She could only cringe in the face of imminent impact. The lights passed over her, the shuddering of panic-braking tires seemed to engulf her; but she felt no impact. A rush of air passed over her right shoulder, and then there was silence, through which the sound of the idling truck gradually returned.
Sapphire quickly regained her composure, using her force to launch her to her feet. The truck was huge -- how did people drive these things on roads? She could just see Thief's face behind the wheel. His brain was still trying to process where she'd come from; but seeing her standing in the road now glaring at him apparently jogged his memory of what he'd come here to do. He yanked the wheel; she saw the tire start to turn toward her. The front end of the truck was partially block by a parked car; this was a narrow street, and she'd have to move if he was going to get past her.
The engine note rose; the beastly vehicle started to inch forward, crowding her. Apparently it was only surprise that caused him to swerve in the first place, because obviously he was willing to run her over now. Or at least he figured she was now able to get out of the way.
Not gonna happen, sport.
A quick hop and Sapphire was in the last place Thief probably expected a girl in skimpy pyjamas and high-heeled slippers to be -- right in front of him. Feet shoulder-width apart, fists on hips, chest thrust forward, chin held high. The girl was dwarfed by the monster machine, but she would not yield. One hand rose in front of her in an emphatic "Halt!" gesture, palm thrust forward. They both heard the high-pitched Tink! as the windshield cracked under the pressure of an unintentional force-blast. Oops.
But the truck stopped. Not by her hand; by the stunned reaction of the driver.
They stared at each other for a long moment -- disbelief against defiance.
"Hey!"
The shout surprised the superheroine; she took a half-step back, whirling around, looking over her shoulder. A large bald man in a bathrobe was running down a driveway waving his arms.
Then Sapphire felt herself shoved; she staggered sideways, away from the unyielding thing. She turned back to see the truck right in her face.
Son-of-a... this jerk was actually going to run her over!
The engine revved an angry warning: Move, or I'll move you.
Like hell you will!
Sapphire squared up in front of the truck. She rose into a foot-high hover and placed her hands firmly on the bumper. She wasn't sure whether Thief's look of shock was because he realized her feet weren't on the ground or because she was daring him to mow her down, but the look quickly became anger. The truck's revs rose; she felt it push against her, inching forward.
Sapphire pushed back. Her gemstones flashed more brightly, responding to her effort.
The engine continued to roar, more and more loudly, but every inch the truck took, Sapphire took back. She heard the frame creak and groan. More noises joined the chorus; squeaking, whining, shuddering. Sapphire felt the bumper bend under the forces placed upon it.
And then suddenly it gave in. Not the bumper, the whole truck. The engine fell quiet; Sapphire quickly eased up and the truck stopped rolling backwards. She heard a mechanical Clack! and the engine suddenly roared again. She looked up to see Thief looking over his shoulder. He was going to make his getaway in reverse!
The superheroine grunted in frustration. This guy just didn't get it!
Feet touched pavement just long enough to start a leaping pursuit. Thanks to her sapphires the 5'4" heroine -- 5'9" in her heels -- moved like an Olympic triple-jumper. First step closed the distance the fleeing truck had opened. Second step put her on the hood. Third step, roof. Toe off the back of the truck into a dramatic high arc, disappearing momentarily above the reach of the streetlamps before landing in a crouch at the end of the block. The superheroine stood and spun around, again rising up off the ground, as if she were more firmly planted when floating. Her body assumed a neutral-gravity position, legs bent, toes pointed, arms rising from her sides.
Sapphire spread her fingers, open palms toward the onrushing truck. Its reverse-gear whine spooled up like the wail of a charging beast. She closed her eyes and gave a sharp shove; sapphires strobed brightly.
And with a mighty Bang! the truck bounced off an invisible wall of opposite force. It lurched forward and shuddered to a silent stop, the motor hammered to stillness by the violent cessation of vehicular progress.
Two bounds and Sapphire was again in front of the truck, this time at the left front corner, ready to halt any attempt at escape. Thief's mouth was agape, eyes wide, but his expression quickly hardened. Standing before him was a frail-looking young thing that had somehow halted a three-ton truck as if it had dropped anchor. But what really mattered was that she had beaten him. Thief was suddenly trapped. And yet, he showed no fear. No sign of defeat. No glance toward escape. Her angry glare was met with equal anger.
Brip! Brip! Two short electronic shouts drew Sapphire's attention behind her.
A police car, red and blue lights flashing, wig-wags blinding.
It occurred to Sapphire that it would not be good for her to be seen. At least, not long enough to be identified.
She turned back toward the truck, expecting to see Thief's anger fade to some kind of "oh-shit" expression...
...but it was she who was surprised.
The car thief was gone.
The megaphone-altered patrolman's voice shook the air. "Hold it right there!"
Sapphire's instinct took over, shooting the girl straight up into the night sky. It took her a second to relax, falling back into a hover a couple hundred feet up. She scanned the street below her for any sign of movement. The police car's searchlight stabbed randomly at the semi-orange darkness around the oversize SUV for a couple of seconds before settling into a systematic sweep. Sapphire's eyes scanned the area around the truck, eyes darting to shadows, likely hiding spots, and paths of retreat out of the patrol car's line of sight. Nothing. The heroine took a wider view, scanning the street, between parked cars, sidewalks, yards, bushes...
He has to be down there somewhere. People don't just *disappear*...
But a solid minute went by and still she saw nothing. Sapphire imagined the broadening circle of distance the thief could cover as the seconds ticked by, using her bird's eye view to check back yards, the next street over, the one past that. The only movement was that of neighborhood dogs called up to active guard duty by the recent cacophany of conflict; their canine voices began to multiply...
The bathrobed man had gone back to his house and was now back outside and stepping toward the truck. She couldn't quite make out the voices, but guessed the police officer was telling the man not to touch anything, because he stopped, then stood there in the street with hands on hips. A brief hot flash of panic hit Sapphire -- had she left any fingerprints? She backtracked through the brief skirmish in her mind; she hadn't actually touched anything directly, except the bumper, and even that was through her forcefield -- that didn't count, did it? The girl flipped over her hands, checking them by the dim blue glow of her sapphires for dirty smudges; they seemed clean.
But consideration of forensics faded when a familiar patter-patter sound hit the superheroine's ears. Helicopter. Eyes quickly lifted and the girl made a slow turn, checking the skies around her. There, coming up fast from the south. Shoot.
Sapphire considered simply boosting for more altitude, but then she'd be too high up to have any chance of picking out the thief on the streets below. And despite an inward check that found her feeling more alive and more powerful than she'd felt in a long time, thoughts of recent troubles suggested discretion as the better part of valor. She remembered her initial landing just a few moments ago -- crumpling into a heap wasn't exactly perfect technique; was something still a little off about her powers?
The helicopter was close; she saw its spotlight blaze a white probe down to the streets below, and felt the staccato thrumming of its blades in her ears. Best to call it a night.
But as the heroine arced for home, she kept flashing back to the image of the thief staring hotly at her... and the image an instant later when she turned back to find the driver's seat empty. She'd only looked away for a second. Not even that. It seemed just an instant. Not enough for someone to open a car door, jump out, and get out of sight. Nobody's that fast.
Apparently, *somebody* was. She must have turned around longer than she thought. That *had* to be it, no matter what it might have felt like.
Either that, or her car thief was a magician.