Written by user colourness-

❝You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.❞ - Harvey Dent, The Dark Knight.

NEVER TRY saving the world while wearing the itchiest costume known to man, Romy thinks as she dashes down the empty corridor. It's quite a shame, really. Had the Committee not designed the outfits with her inability to control flames in mind (fireproof was the only way to go when adding Romy into the equation) she might've had a chance at actually enjoying the training exercises set up.

One hand slips into her jacket pocket, fishing around for the wrinkled mask she (probably) stuck inside earlier that morning. The other tries, with little success, to rummage through a plastic bag filled with chips and a can of soda. Putting on a mask single-handedly isn't an easy task.

Perhaps a detour to the store was not the best plan.

Romy rounds a corner a spots the only person who can stand to be around her, despite accidentally catching him on fire more times than she can count.

He's wearing a ridiculous outfit much like her own; a scratchy yellow-and-blue one piece suit. He stands with his arms crossed, eyes bearing a similarly bored expression much like hers. "Glad you could arrive."

Romy chooses to ignore his sarcasm; instead, she settles for digging a hand into some partially-eaten chips snagged from the store near her apartment. "I stopped at the convenience store," she tucks a tight brown curl behind her ear, "and the bus broke down halfway to the station." Behind the dark blue mask, she catches Ean rolling his eyes. "Hey, I got here as fast as I could."

He eyes the crumpled, half-empty bag of chips clutched in her hands; the crumbs her fingers try to dust away a futile attempt at shielding his all-knowing eyes from the evidence. "Yet you had enough time to buy... rosemary-flavored chips? You're kidding, right?" Ean reaches for the bag, the crinkling of the plastic breaking the silence within the titanium-reinforced walls. Romy frowns, a quick and well-practiced action, before reluctantly loosening her grip on the oh-so-precious snack.

"What, bad idea? I knew I should've grabbed those cheese curls when I ran out the door."

"Considering the fact you are highly allergic to rosemary, an ingredient clearly stated in the title, yes it was a very bad and extremely stupid idea."

"But they're my favorite flavor," she whines. A master in the art of ignoring others' woes, Ean continues with his speech.

"How do you hope to finish the exercise if you can't use your powers? You do realize we're going against my sister."

They're so close to the exam, he can feel Teagan's presence a few mere meters away. Yet, their only shot at success depends on Romy, a currently powerless superhero.

Romy scoffs and wraps a hand around his thin wrist. "We'll get through okay," she says. "All we have to do is kick cardboard ass and avoid Teagan while keeping our limbs intact."

"Why do I get the feeling you're listing events that won't be taking place in the near future?"

"Paranoia."

"You're an idiot," Ean says. Romy laughs it off and tosses her bag to the side. She loops and arm through his, and together they walk towards the end of the hallway.

"I'm phenomenal. You're talking to a girl who can stea-" she coughs as Ean raises an eyebrow, "-my allergies are coming on again. You're talking to a girl who can borrow from every building across the city. I think I know what I'm capable of."

Romy pauses in the middle of the hallway, sneezes twice, and continues onward. Her trusty sidekick stops, taps his foot impatiently, and sighs loudly. As they stand before the sleek glass doors leading to their test, Ean peeks around Romy, one hand firmly gripping her forearm.

"Where's your backpack?"

"Shit."

"Romy..." Romy holds up her palms in defense, dropping her mask as she scrambles to avoid incurring the wrath of her unpleased friend.

"I was changing on the bus and I just kind of forgot." Of course. One can expect nothing less from the girl who once lost a car in an empty parking lot. They still have yet to find it.

Ean's dark brown eyes show his desire to nearly strangle his best friend. As his fingers twitch, the doors slide open, courtesy of the young adult standing behind them.

"Hey, Super Useless duo, get over here and start the exam." When one has Teagan Matthews - esteemed Super Heroine capable of kicking butt in her sleep - as her mentor, one knows better than to slack off. Unless that 'one' happens to be Romy Dalton, notorious superhero in training incapable of following the rules for an extended period of time. And when one has a sister able to beat the crap out of him without lifting a finger, one does not take her commands lightly. Unless, however, said person is the sidekick of Romy.

As they enter, Ean waves her off and begins his search for two earpieces tucked carefully away in his bag. "What kind of Super dresses in sweats?" he says.

"The kind that kicks your skinny butt on a daily basis," his sister replies.

Meanwhile, Romy hastily wipes away the crumbs from her lips while raking through the mass of dark curls atop her head. Her dark browns meet with her mentor's blues - one girl gives a sheepish smile, the other suppresses a frown.

"Tee, I-"

"You're late again, Romy, Ean. I'm not even surprised." Their mentor takes a pen hovering behind one ear and scribbles on the clipboard before her. "Deducting ten points for tardiness and another five for discarding your mask on the floor." Romy bends down to pick it up. "Minus two for silly nicknames, and five are taken away for poor snack choice. That leaves a total of-"

"178 points left," Romy interjects. Teagan casts an appreciative glance her way. Ean decides, like any mature young adult would, to elbow Romy in the stomach. "Ow."

"Thanks," Teagan replies. "178 points left. Already off to a terrible start. Well, let's see how you two will weasel your way out of this predicament. I'm assuming you know the rules, correct? It's not as if this is your first try, after all." The two teens nod, though Romy takes a moment longer than Teagan would deem reliable. "The rules are simple. Use your powers, wit, and teamwork to rescue the civilians tied within the glass dome. However, there's a slight obstacle. A certain someone - namely me, the all-powerful villain - will stand in your way. Do not try to defeat me. Romy, I'm looking at you."

Romy just sighs and slips on her mask. Ean hands her a transceiver, which she sticks in her left ear. As prepared as can be, they turn their bodies in unison to face their mentor. Teagan pulls a remote from her pants' pocket and waves it before the duo.

"Think you can handle it?" Ean and Romy nod gravely, eyes filling with sheer determination. Though, neither of them is absolutely positive their abilities are enough to take on the strongest superhero (or in this case, villainess) yet to be defeated.

"Just listen carefully to me on the intercom, Romy," Ean whispers, tone hushed. "We can't do this if neither of us can agree on a strategy. I'll stop the lackeys, you heat for the remote. I'll see if I can find a spare EpiPen in the meantime, but be prepared for some hand-to-hand."

"Got it. Oh, and Ean?" He raises a brow tentatively. "Stop being such a wisecrack and have a little faith in me." He obnoxiously rolls his eyes, but it's not enough to mask the grin playing on his lips.

"Whatever," he retorts. "Only if you promise to refrain from stealing."

"Touché."

Teagan brings the cool whistle to her lips. The shrill sound resounds throughout the training center. Superhero and sidekick. Villain and underlings. Pitted against each other for a chance at victory. Throw some civilians in the mix, and you've got yourself one hell of a battle.

"You have nine minutes." So the deciding hour begins.

The first three seconds of their exams are comprised of Romy flinching, Ean sprinting, and Teagan wishing her shiny new whistle wasn't prone to causing deafness. The following moment to come consists of the pair being flung to opposite ends of the spacious expanse. Thrown against a metal wall, Romy bangs her head sharply. A low groan escapes her lips.

"Telekinesis. Right."

She picks up on Ean's voice through the static-filled earpiece. "You okay?"

"I think so," she manages to reply. "A constant ringing in your ears is normal, right?" Before he can form a proper response, she hears Ean grunt on the other end of the line.

With no heads up, the floor becomes the ceiling, the earth is spinning, and the room is upside down. Or, at least Romy is. She's currently dangling five feet in front of a smirking villain, who also - may she add - is looking pretty hot.

Romy's eyes lock onto the small remote clutched in her enemy's palm. She will reach it. Somehow. She steals a glimpse at her partner. Ean's having some trouble with cardboard adversaries scattered around the course. It's difficult to distinguish enemy from innocent, and all Romy wants to do is burn everything to a crisp.

So she shall. Romy only needs the proper outlet.

Her hardened gaze shifts back towards the giant dome in the center, then the scoreboard hanging above. Time is slipping away, and Romy's running out of ideas she never truly had in the first place. Someone has to be the hero.

And a hero arises from battered cardboard. Ean kicks down the last foe in the vicinity, picks up his backpack, and darts towards his hero in distress. "Hang tight, Romy. I'm coming." His gloved hands grope for and secure a short, slender object. An EpiPen.

Now all he needs is a distraction. Ean muddles through some nonsensical thoughts - such as how it's humiliating his partner's superhero ass needs some saving - and avoids meandering passerby in the midst. Something, anything, to throw off their enemy for a moment.

It clicks. Romy. Her infectious stupidity may just work in their favor. Ean grips the pen tightly. The duo only has one shot at securing the remote from Teagan before she detonates it.

The sidekick holds one hand to his ear, where the transceiver lies. "Listen carefully," Ean states to his partner. "It is vital that you catch what I am about to throw to you." No confirmation required, Ean steels his resolve and tosses the EpiPen his partner's way.

The trajectory is nothing less of perfect, but the pen never reaches Romy's fingers. It drifts, suspended in the air centimeters away from Romy's desperate reach. Teagan plucks it from suspension, twirls the mechanism in her fingers.

"Sorry baby bro, but that wasn't going to work on me."

"Ean," Romy whines, "that was the dumbest plan I've ever been apart of. And I do dumb things. Frequently."

Teagan tries, and fails, to suppress the soft snickers tumbling out of her lips. "My god, Ean. I had no idea stupidity was contagi-"

She doesn't finish her thought, as she's too busy eating a mouthful of metal flooring. Ean lies on top of his sister, arms pinning her body to the cool floor. He wrestles the remote from her hold. Teagan's concentration lost, a floating Romy and the EpiPen drop to the floor. A soft thud fills the silence. "Now, Romy!"

She wastes no time in hopping to her feet, seizing the injector, and presses it into her thigh. Within seconds, she feels a familiar weightlessness course through her veins, pulse in her fingertips. Wisps of smoke emanate from her palms.

One teenage superhero, coming right up.

Teagan's face reddens, and Ean begins levitating. The remote is ripped from his hands and sent to hover behind her. She mutters a swear as she stands to her feet, leaning on one knee slightly more so than the other. A flick of her eyes sends the poor boy across the room once again.

Her gaze drifts over to Romy. She stands between Romy's chance at redemption.

The villain snaps her fingers, and more cardboard silhouettes rise from the titanium floor. "Only four minutes left, Super. Do you honestly think your grubby fingers can find their way to my detonator?"

"I'm wearing gloves, alright? Geez." Romy wiggles her fingers, then places a hand on her hip. "All jokes aside, I'm saving the day, and neither you nor your goons can stop me."

"We'll see." Romy starts with a slow jog that develops into a double handspring. Jumping over her opponent, she could just head for the remote not ten feet before her, but this heroine has another plan in mind.

She ducks under the remote and sprints towards the dome.

"Romy? What are you doing?" her friend calls out, still fending off the horde of enemies coming his way. Both the sidekick and villain are taken aback. Assuredly they both know Romy isn't the brightest bulb in the shed, but completely ignoring a game-changer? Positively moronic.

"She never said the remote would save them!" our superhero trainee yells in return. "I've got to do something, and I think I have just the plan for it." Sprinting full throttle towards the dome, she glances down at her palm. Fire. She can melt the dome down and save the day.

If she's lucky she'll avoid burning herself alive.

Romy reaches the large dome. A flicker of heat ignites in her hand. "Are you absurd? Stop!" Brushing her partner's warning off, she aims the flame towards the dome.

"Romy, stop what you're doing! Don't you dare heat that dome!" their mentor screeches. It's too late. Romy uses her second hand, increasing the heat tenfold. Sweat glistens down her forehead.

The dome catches on fire, but nothing melts. Only the black smoke, thick as her obstinance, rises in the air. Ean chokes while Teagan berates her with swear words and promises of Super detention. And yet, Romy refuses to cease the fire. If anything, she intensifies it.

Flames lick the obstacles near her. Everything seems to come to a standstill - the shrieks, the heat, the perception of doing right.

Then the sprinklers activate, dousing everyone and everything with cool water a slight sense of pessimism.

"Romy!"

"YOU FAILED." Teagan tosses her soppy report onto the break room floor, too emotionally exhausted to care about formalities. Romy slumps into a chair, still slightly soaked from the spontaneous shower. Ean sets his bag down and yanks his mask off, slamming one clenched fist down on the table. "I shouldn't have expected anything else."

Ean grips the table's edge, refusing to look his partner's way. "What the hell were you thinking? Burning the course to a crisp is not the way we save lives." He shakes his head, and for a fleeting moment, Romy attests to seeing a tear harbored in the corner of one eye. "We were so close to being an official Super and Sidekick. The remote was literally five feet away. You just couldn't be a true Super for one day, could you?"

The accused girl sits up. "You're always advising me about thinking outside the box and analyzing the clues. When I finally do, I get reprimanded. Whatever."

"I need an Advil."

"You and me both," his older sibling chimes in. She peels off her mask and sweatshirt, where a damp shirt lies clinging to her skin. Romy's gaze flickers to her for a split second, but Ean's hot stare prevents her from looking fixedly any longer. He pounds on the table again, and takes a step closer to his partner.

"Why were you even eating those chips? You know what they do to you. What about last year, huh? Do you want that to happen to you too?"

"Hey..." Teagan warns, but he's fuming and the unforgiving words refuse to stop tumbling past his lips.

"Do you want to fucking die in the field?"

"Ean, that's enough. Stop it!" Romy shouts, hot tears pricking at her eyes. He ignores her and stomps closer, grabbing her shirt with clenched fists.

"What about today, huh? Does it mean nothing to you? You're doing the same things your sister did, and look what happened to her. She six feet under." Romy's eyes widen, her breaths hitching as she recalls the memory. Chilly weather. Snow. Tears. December 17th.

Today, one year ago.

Even though the weather was freezing, her tears were still warm.

Romy shrinks into the plush furniture and fiddles with a few frayed strands of the beanbag's green fabric. The room begins to heat up, until it turns sweltering, sweat dripping down their brows. Finally, Teagan raises her voice. "Ean. Matthews. That's enough." She picks up a towel, wipes her face. "Shut your mouth, and don't you ever bring Chrissy up again, or I swear to Golden Boy I'll–"

"Do what? Levitate me? Throw me across the room? Do it. I'm used to all this crap."

"You better watch your tone, young man." The older girl moves to slap his already tomato-red cheeks, but a bright red enveloping the small room halts her actions. The harsh wailing of a siren jolts the teens from their despair.

A crime is taking place, and boy is it a doozy.