A/N I tried my best to fix the OOCness of Nightwing from when I first posted; though it could've been pointed out in a nicer way, thanks for bringing it to my attention. Now on with the story.
What the hell? I look up into the darkness of the rooftop and low and behold a male figure is outlined in my mental red lines. He's 6 foot, 180 pounds, favors his right side due to a recent injury to his left shoulder. He has multiple forms of bombs in his tool belt as well as a set of eskrima sticks as well as a stun gun and knife. On a scale of one to ten; he was an eight at the moment, as a reference point, a trained Marine with a submachine gun would be a seven to and eight depending on his build. I pull my hood up over my head, seeing him turn at my suspicious behavior,
"Ready or not," I form a light lasso that hooks around him, pulling the hidden man down to the alley in which I now stand, "Here you come." I illuminate the alley with a ball of light from my left palm, oh shit. I just took down Nightwing.
"Ugh." Nightwing groans, his head had hit a drain pipe on the way down. I take down my hood, revealing a crimson blush; no reason to hide from a hero I guess,
"I'm so sorry! I saw you and I thought I was in danger; an eight can't be ignored." The light lasso disappears from around his arms and chest, leaving slight singe marks from where he had struggled. From behind his mask an eyebrow is raised,
"An eight?" Shit. Me and my big mouth.
"I uh...You know how in video games you see an enemy and all of their strengths, weaknesses, and weapons all are outlined in red so that you can see them?" Nightwing nods skeptically, "Well when I look at a person those little red lines appear as well as a number from one to ten; I've never seen anyone above a nine." Batman had been the nine, the night he had rescued me from a fire when I was seven.
"So, Melissa," I don't question how the masked man knows my name, I'm afraid to know the answer truthfully. "I have a proposition for you." My hands find their way to my wide hips, if it was anything less than business the masked hero would end up with with light where the sun shouldn't shine. "How would you like to become a superhero? Batman and I have been watching you for awhile now," That's kinda creepy, "On the knowledge of you light powers, and now of your..." He seems to consider his words, "Other powers," Nice, "We would like to offer you a space on the Young Justice team." I'm about to say yes, excitment bubbling in me when I realize that I can't.
"Sorry, Nightwing; I work almost every hour I'm not at school just to survive," I push back my hair, feeling ashamed, "I don't have time to do hero work." Nightwing places a hand on my shoulder,
"I know, which is why with your special circumstances Batman and the Justice League have decided to pay you for your work as a superhero; a kickstart of three grand with monthly payments of one thousand." Tears well in my eyes,
"That is the best thing anyone has ever done for me, thank you." Nightwing clears his throat, uncomfortable with my glossy eyes,
"Well then, you'll receive a text message tonight from a team member to set up a location to meet with you." With that the hero takes out a grapple gun and flies off. Show off. The orb of light disappears and I continue my walk home at a quicker pace, Sophia was probably worried to death by now.
"Phia, I'm home!" I shout, entering our small apartment,
"Meli!" The ten year old throws herself at me, hugging me tightly around the waist, I pat her wild blonde curls, leading us to the kitchen.
"Tell me all about your day while I make dinner." Sophia begins to babble on about her day as I make up some buttered noodles with chicken in it,
"Pre-Algebra sucks." She ends her telling with an exaggerated huff, I pass her a bowl of pasta, rustling her hair,
"I hated it too, Phia. After dinner it's bed time." My little sister groans,
A/N: Hey pumpkins! Thanks for reading, there will be more to come. I'm going to try and update weekly so keep coming back for more. REVIEWS ARE LOVE. GIVE ME LOTS OF LOVE.