Mary sat quietly outside of the 'First Little Pittsburg Bank' in an unfolding lawn chair. In front of the main entrance, two burly men stood armed with Kalashnikovs slung across their back. They were focused and at attention, but that was mostly because the 'boss' was sitting outside with them. Mary didn't usually keep a close tab on her men while they worked their protection duties, but Avery said this particular location needed a bit of 'encouragement.'
Specifically, he said the boys were bored because no one tried to rob it. Something about a local kid getting run over by the nearby train? Whatever, weird superstitions and criminals did go hand in hand but that didn't make Mary any happier that she had to personally involve herself. Suddenly, a beeping on her watch notified her of 'time for lunch break.' Standing with a sigh, she looked over at the boys,
"I'm gettin' nom noms, you's want sumthin' sumthin'? Yeah you's do, I'ma go get us food."
The two men beamed, free food was always on the table. Grinning back at them, Mary strode off without hesitation toward the nearest mcdonalds. It probably would've been faster to call a cab, but the longer she could get away with not sitting in front of that bank, the better. Avery be damned, the boys could hold position for forty-five minutes without losing their minds. Surely they could do that.
Then, after less than a minute of walking, Mary saw something she swore looked familiar. The back of a head full of crimson hair. It wasn't curly, so surely it couldn't be- unless she had straightened it? Whatever, call out time baby girl! Mary flung a hand up and shouted at the red-head, "Hey you's! Yeah you's! Cmere! Lemme holla at ya!"
Frankie walked along a busy street in downtown Pittsburgh, her eyes pinched shut. The city was busy, not as frantic as what she'd grown up around, but more active than anything she'd seen in a decade. Even with her eyes closed she still knew the movement of everything around her, she could feel it. The frame of each passing car, the small pieces of metal worn by passing pedestrians and the reinforcing metal beams of buildings she walked past. She could hear the city too. She could force the signals out of her mind now, but she was allowing herself to be overwhelmed by the crowded city.
She fished a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket, then opened her eyes to glance down at it. It was filled with grainy pictures of a young man, only a few months past his 18th birthday, as well as a few lines of sloppily written notes. She didn't need to study his appearance so obsessively, she'd been stalking the boy for days now. She wanted to know who he talked to, specifically if he was working with other metas. She also wanted to know the full extent of his abilities. So far, he just seemed abnormally fast and strong; nothing concerning to her, he wouldn't be so fast with metal rods through his knees.
Frankie's thoughts were interrupted by someone shouting behind her. She spun around and saw the woman who had been shouting looking directly at her. She was heavily tattooed and stood a few inches shorter than Frankie. "Excuse me?"
No, it wasn't that Sam girl. This woman was a couple inches taller than Mary. couple years older too it looked like. Mary placed a hand on her own hip and leaned a little to the left. With a wicked grin, she snapped back, "Yeah girly, I'm talkin' to you's."
Mary made a few large steps, circling the other woman and sizing her up. Mary knew a meta when she saw one, usually, most of the time. They had that look about them. Dazed, overwhelming by every sensation they couldn't understand or control, and hyperfocused on something weird. The crumpled picture of some guy, way too young to be a boyfriend and too old to be a kid, did not escape Mary's eye. He didn't bear a resemblance to the woman, not family.
So either she was stalking him as a target, or she was just really, really weird. Meta behavior. Of course, these were just speculations! And Mary knew she was no Sherlock Holmes! No no no! The Demon beat the idea of Mary's intelligence out of Mary's thickened skull. The best way to tell if someone was a meta, the way Mary would default to, was violence.
Meta's loved violence.
"You's look new to the city, bitch. Wanna pass over you's cash quick and easy now?"
To Frankie's displeasure, the little gremlin standing before her confirmed that she had been talking to her. She just shook her head and rolled her eyes. She didn't have any friends in this city and she wasn't looking for any, quite the opposite. She was here to make a lot of enemies.
Instead of just getting to what it was she wanted, the other woman was looking Frankie over. This she recognized. She had been in enough fights to know what it looked like when someone was sizing her up. She quickly crumpled the paper back up and jammed it in her pocket, freeing up both her hands. If she wanted a fight, she'd get a fight. Fankie didn't make the first move—she didn't know if she was one of the meta freaks—instead she remained still and presented what looked like an easy target. She would prove to not be so easy in plenty of time. In the meantime he was reaching out to her surroundings, identifying everything she could use to beat some sense into the other woman.
Sure enough, the next time the gremlin opened her mouth, it was in a half-assed attempt at a robbery. Frankie laughed in response.
"Honestly, you'll have to do a lot better than that if you want to rob me. Walk on little bitch, find somebody more your size—maybe you'll scare them."
Mary laughed. A cruel, mirthless, forced laugh followed by a quick shout, "Oh yeah? SHABOOM!."
In a flash, Mary's hands flew up to eye level. Twin finger guns pointed directly at the older, larger woman. This bitch was standing, what, ten feet away? About? Yeah about that much. As twin beams of burgundy force flew from Mary's fingertips aimed directly at the other woman's chest. They looked a little bit like burgundy lightning, but they were anything but.
Pure force would fly through the air at the other woman. The beams were not particularly powerful, Mary had neither said the 'right' words nor had she experienced or drawn from pain to increase their strength. Still, for a normal, unaugmented human, the beams would have broken every rib in their chest.
The gremlin just shouted something and made finger guns at her. Frankie arched an eyebrow in confusion.
"The fu—"
Suddenly burgundy lightning crackled from her fingers, aimed straight at Frankie. If it weren't so confusing it would've been funny. Frankie had enough time to get an amused smirk on her lips, not trying to dodge it or anything. The bitch would learn, and then she would die. She'd found herself a meta, one who's powers were poorly matched against her own.
Things did not go as Frankie expected. She was suddenly knocked back on her ass, her chest ached in a way she'd never truly experienced before and she felt like retching. Was this what it normally felt like to get punched in the chest? Whatever that was, it hadn't been lightning, and Frankie hadn't absorbed a bit of it.
Rage surged inside her but she didn't have the time to stew on her emotions. She lashed out at the gremlin, her mind seizing the nearest car to her—some piece of shit Mitsubishi—and hurled it at the gremlin. The car had been driving on the street and had passengers inside, but Frankie didn't really give a shit. Frankie struggled to her feet as the car sailed through the air. "Shaboom this, you raggedy bitch."
