Killing Olympia

I couldn't sleep. Something was silently telling me that I couldn't afford to turn over and shut my eyes and wait for the sun to peek through my curtains. I tried, I really did, and I figured after the day I've just had with Bianca, my body would finally switch off and my mind would follow suit. Nada. I've got about a million thoughts ricocheting around my head and a foot that won't stop bouncing and a bandage that won't stop being so itchy. The house was silent, and so was the neighborhood outside. It made me uncomfortable. Flatout antsy. This was usually the moment something came and ruined the night, but not this time around. Not at midnight. Not at three in the morning either.

So that's how I found myself on the couch downstairs, a microwaved bag of popcorn on my lap and barely paying attention to an ancient video from way back in the day—I'm talking Silver Age, kind of old, when capes used to go around in costumes that weren't nearly as complex or flashy as the Golden Age ones. Olympus News was running some kind of marathon—Silver Saturday Superheroes. In between cartoons made with stiffer animation and newsreels and interviews from people like Liberty and Warden, I caught my reflection on the tv screen, staring at nothing, listening to mumbled voices and barely eating the popcorn in my hand. I shut my eyes and leaned my head back on the couch pillows, blowing air to the ceiling. You wanted a holiday, and now you've got it, Rylee.

Except I just couldn't. For some reason, I just couldn't do it. And I would've gotten frustrated if it wasn't for the fact that everyone was asleep, and my body was aching all over from the swollen joints and slowly healing breaks. I massaged my eyes and cursed, reached for my phone, then paused, because nobody was gonna be awake. Bianca needed her rest, and Emelia was probably with her family, so ripping her away from that would feel pretty selfish considering I unload on her and I barely hear what's going on in her life, so… So fuck it, Ry, just fuck it.

"I need to hit something," I muttered. A laugh track played from the TV when Liberty said something funny to the chick interviewing her. I got the popcorn off my lap and leaned forward, looking at the TV through messy strands of hair. Liberty must've been one of the first capes to actually start making herself look stunning for the cameras, instead of the grungier boys and girls who just put on the costumes and did the hard jobs. Thick hair that spilled onto her shoulders, a mother's smile and a red, white, and blue costume with boots that reached her knees, meaning she showed off her thighs. Different times, I guess. It worked for her, though, but it was pretty hard to get people to remember you when Zeus was starting to make rounds brighter, flashier, and better than you ever could. I grunted and stood up, stretching my back and scratching my side. "Maybe I'll just go out for a walk."

I nearly jumped backward into the glass table when I found Becca standing behind the couch, arms folded and staring at the TV, a faint smile on her sooty face. "Jesus, Ry," she said softly. "Thought you'd heard me earlier."

"Gods," I muttered, walking past her and heading for the kitchen. "What's with Freemans and silence?"

"You learn to walk on your toes when you're fighting people who can tear you apart and go back to their families for dinner five minutes later." She shrugged, then watched me empty half the sugary cereal into one bowl. I opened the fridge and, of course, no milk. Water it is then. "You sure you want to be eating that? It's pretty late."

"Whatever, mom," I said, grabbing a spoon from the sink. "I'm eighteen, I can do what I want."

"You're not even allowed to drink," she said, stopping me from going back into the living room. "Do you have your driver's license?" I shrugged and scooped cereal into my mouth, looking up at her. "Gimme the bowl."

I snorted. "As if. I can't even remember the last time I had cereal. Besides, I'm on Winter break."

Becca took it from me anyway, put it on the counter, and said, "Ry, for just a sec, I need you to relax a little and realize that I'm on your side. I did my part, and now it's your turn. I'm your aunt for crying out loud. Chill out."

I had something on my tongue waiting, but… I sighed and said, "Fine. I'm sorry. I'll put the cereal back."

She blinked. "You're going to put it back, as it is?"

"Well, you don't seem happy that I'm eating it, so what else am I meant to do, let it get soggy?"

She smiled and flicked my ear. I laughed a little as she said, "You're a smartass."

"And you look like you haven't been able to sleep either."

Becca shrugged a little and leaned against the counter. "I guess it's something I've picked up along the way. I like sleeping in shifts. It means I can be more efficient, but my back hurts a little more nowadays and so do my knees. Time's are changing, and trying to keep up is a little harder." She started eating my cereal, which I would have objected to, if she hadn't just taken a phone out of her pocket and slid it across the counter. She kept eating, kept chewing, then took the cereal to the living room and slightly turned up the TV, watching the rest of the show.

I picked up the tiny smartphone and turned it on. It was already set to a list of names.

None I knew, but each had tiny skull emojis next to them. At the very top of the list were a set of numbers: one-hundred dead. Seven missing. Two in captivity. One MIA—possibly close, but wounded. Bounty still active.

I looked over my shoulder, the TV making a soft halo of light around Becca's head.

"The Guilds won't be a problem," she said, folding her legs underneath her on the couch. "Back in my day, they used to be a lot more organized and a lot more deadly. Something must've changed. Anarchy, fatigue, a loss of purpose, because suddenly, the guilds they were fighting weren't bloodthirsty and sliding between the shadows. They were megacorps like Blackwood Pharma, and you just can't keep up with businesses that sell to billionaires and countries and sometimes even entire continents, and not just Ricky the Drug Dealer living in his basement."

I rounded the couch, then sat next to her, reading off the names. "They were all in on taking her?"

She was quiet for a moment, then said, "It's hard to explain, and it doesn't matter now. The bodies are buried, well, some of 'em. Most." She drank the rest of the cereal, then used the back of her hand to wipe her mouth. She smiled at me. "The good thing is that Bianca isn't going anywhere. I told Carly most of what happened, and if there's someone who trusts my word, it's her. Your mom might not entirely like me, and Cleopatra and I kinda—"

"Your brother technically fucked my life over, so you can't really blame her for being suspicious."

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She shrugged and said, "Yeah, sure, there's that, but I guess she also doesn't like the fact that I'm here. A lot of people didn't like me when I was kicking it on the vigilante scene, but I guess you don't become a superhero expecting people to love you." She paused, then leaned in a little closer. "I kind of did, to be honest. I loved the attention, I loved when people used to make tiny graffiti Shrike symbols and leave them on alleyways and even on their clothes so that I knew who was on my side, but then my brother kind of had to ruin the entire thing, y'know."

I smiled a little. "You're pretty weird, but I guess you're cool, so we'll let you sleep inside for now."

She ruffled my hair. I smacked her hands away. "But she'll be fine," Becca said. "Bianca's a fighter, and if she's anything like Ben, then she's gonna be a-okay. We've just got to make sure she settles back in pretty gently."

I switched off the phone, toyed with it a little, then slowly managed to say what had been keeping me awake for so long. "Bianca tried to…hurt herself, a few days ago." Becca paused, then looked at me. I looked away and chewed on the edge of my tongue, then quietly continued. "She didn't really talk about it for a long time, but I felt like there was more. She wasn't telling me everything. I mean, she was happy and smiling and stuff when we sat in the park together, but I just felt…weird touching her, and being around her, and I first thought it was me just being a little odd, but it kinda…continued." I pulled back my hoodie's sleeve, then showed Becca the back of my hand, and yeah, I forgot to mention—my skin had swollen and turned red and raw, nearly flaking so badly it was like I'd just scraped it against the sun. Except I can only ever get tanned, and since I flew a lot, it happened. But sunburnt? No, that just didn't happen anymore, so seeing my skin so puss-filled, so flaky and pale and dark red…

It was the hand I used to hold Bianca. It was the hand I used to thumb away ice cream off her lips.

And now it hurts like hell. It hurt so badly I could feel it deep in my bones.

Becca sat forward and stared at my hand. "This happened when you were with her?"

I nodded and flexed my fingers. The skin cracked in some places, dry as could be.

"Ry," she said, unfolding her legs. "You should've said something earlier. Does your mom know?"

I tensed my jaw, then shook my head. "Asking for hand-outs is pretty hard, alright? Besides, I'm kinda used to dealing with stuff on my own, and I was gonna give it a few days and see what was going on with me first."

Rebecca stared at me, blinked slowly, then looked away. She massaged her eyes, said something foul about a certain little brother, and stood up. "Wait here. I'll be right back. I'm getting your mom and Cleopatra. Sit tight."

I grabbed her wrist. She stopped. "Ok, let's not get drastic here. All I need is some rash cream and—"

Becca crouched and looked me dead in the eyes. "I'm gonna need you to stop trying to act brave. You're not on your own anymore. I know why you can't sleep. I know why you can't sit still. I know what that look in your eyes is when you blank for a few seconds when someone is talking to you. Rylee, you're not alright, and I know it's hard to tell people that because of the guys who've come and put it into your head that you're not meant to be soft, but for once, just one night, let the adults be adults, and let yourself be young. It's fine to be afraid, Ry, alright?"

"I'm not afraid," I said quietly, pulling my hand away from her. "I just want to be okay enough to save her."

"Save her?" she asked. "Save her from what?"

"From me," I said. "I'm walking, talking bad luck. I'm waiting for some shit to happen, and look at me, Becky!" I couldn't keep my hand still, even when it was on my chest. "If I can't fly, then that means Bianca—"

"Oh my God," Rebecca whispered. She was staring at me, her brow creased as she slowly shook her head. Her lips were thin, and only getting thinner the longer she stared. She looked away, then stood up. "Just…just stay here. Just for a second. If you need me, shout, but the others are going to be down in a second. It'll be alright, Ok?"

I stood up, making her pause at the stairs. "Becky, I'm serious. It kinda just hurts a little. But come on, I've broken my ribs before, and I'm pretty sure I've screwed my back up. This is just some dry skin. Bianca is the one I'm really worried about right now, because she's the one who needs someone to be there to make sure she's doing fine."

But I was talking to myself. In typical Freeman fashion, she was gone in an instant.

And just like that, a few minutes later, the TV was on mute, the living room lights were on, and mom, Becca, and Kayana were staring at my hand and muttering to one another. Mom was in a sleeping gown, Becky still in sweatpants and an old vest. Cleopatra was in a white t-shirt and loose satin pants, hair tied and arms folded. Every time I tried to explain that they were overreacting, they told me it was all going to be just fine, Ry. Promise.

Mom sat beside me on the couch and adjusted her glasses. "Hm," she hummed, turning my hand over to look at my palm, pressing it gently. She looked at Becca. "I'm thinking of something that's not making me happy."

"There were never any signs," Becky muttered. The playfulness from earlier was gone. Now came the hardened English accent and the eyes that looked so eerily similar to Lucas' that it almost felt like he was standing in the room right beside her. "I made sure more than once, but all that ever did was either nothing to frighten her."

"Frighten her?" I asked. "What did you do to Bianca?"

"Nothing to hurt her. I'd never. I care about her as much as I care about you." Becca smiled, but it was thin, almost like a placeholder for an emotion she couldn't pretend to have anymore. "I just had to make her sweat."

"Stop speaking in riddles and shortened questions," Kayana said. Even now, she almost felt like she took up the entire room. She was taller than everyone else, slightly more intense, but also warmer, keeping the rain outside from creeping in through the cracked open windows with her body heat alone. At least, it felt that way, kinda like a blanket that was wrapping itself around me. She looked at me. "The easiest way to describe what's happening to you is this: Bianca is…different now, at least, judging by what she's done to you, then there's a chance she's never going to be the same person you last met. We had our suspicions, all of us did, especially with what it might mean to you and your health." My eyes widened as she unfolded her arms. "You are correct, someone needs to be there to ensure her safety, but her safety isn't from outside forces, but instead from herself as a whole."

"Herself?" I whispered. "She told me if she ever felt like doing anything drastic, she'd call me."

They all stared at me. Silence filled the house.

You could just about hear every heartbeat in the room.

Becky sucked air through her teeth and palmed her eyes with both hands. "Ah, bollocks," she muttered, walking around the glass table. "Sometimes I really should have just stayed in the army and gone AWOL instead."

"Mom?" I said, looking at V. She blinked, like she'd just woken up. "What's wrong with Bianca?"

"Shit," she muttered, nodding to herself. "I never thought I'd have to have this conversation, but I guess I've skipped out on enough of your life, and I'm trying to be better, so…here goes: Bianca isn't good for you, Ry."

"What?" I said, looking at each one of them. "Is this some weird human 'girls shouldn't like girls' thing?"

"Rylee," Kayana quietly said. "Bianca is a biohazard. A cataclysmic one, if she's not careful."

I blinked, then looked up at her. "I'm sorry?"

"Your mother," Cleopatra said, sitting on dad's armchair, one leg over the other, like a throne she'd just taken from someone else entirely, "knows more than all of us, I'm sure, so we'll allow her to do the honors for now."

I looked around, my head swimming. "You guys need to start talking, like, right now."

"I'll make the coffee," Becky muttered. "This is going to be a very long night."

Liberty smiled at the Tv screen, her teeth a brilliant white. I read her lips as she spoke. And remember, everyone, always trust your gut, always trust the greater good, and never negotiate for anything less than justice.

Mom put her hand on my shoulder and gently squeezed. I glanced at her. She smiled softly. "She used to be one of my sister's favorites," she said quietly. "But when she disappeared after Zeus arrived, things changed."

"But if there was one thing she was," Kayana said, "it was being very much like you."

"You guys are starting to scare me," I whispered. "What's going on?"

"Superheroes, Rylee," mom said. "We're going to teach you a little bit about superheroes."

"And why we might all be just a little bit fucked," Rebecca said.