close calls

Cora does not appreciate working with people, especially when it comes to her hero duties.

“Nova, why are you waiting around?”

The infamous White Comet is no exception to this.

“Because,” Cora responds, phone pressed to her ear, “I always call the authorities after I capture something suspicious.”

In fact, working with her might actually be the worst part of this crime-fighting, part-time job. And if Cora could see behind Comet’s mask, she’d assume the other super would be rolling her eyes just about now.

And when she tries to grab ahold of the dense, glowing red meteorite that sat in between Cora’s feet, but with a lift of her left hand, a tall wall of fire rises to prevent the meteorite from being merely touched. She then slips her phone back into the pocket of her suit’s skirt (yes, she has pockets on her skirt).

White Comet grumbles, throwing her hands in the air in defeat, “Oh come on, you’re so fucking square!”

“Well some of us understand the law is meant to be followed.”

“And some of us know that things would get done better and faster without the wait of our flawed justice system.”

“You’re not a registered super, Comet,” Cora says as she carries the meteorite, opening up a transportation portal to the nearest Association investigatory unit, “You’re not even supposed to be here, interfering with my shit.”

“Right is right, Nova, whether your beloved laws say so or n-"

Cora doesn’t get to hear the rest of Comet’s reply before she enters a ring of swirling blue and teleports to the Association to store the new-found, possibly alien artifact. 

-

In recent news, are supers Nova and White Comet teaming up in the face of a new otherworldly threat to our planet Earth? Stay tuned for more-

Cora switches off the television.

“‘Ey, I waf wa-ing tha!” Mariana says, her words muffled through a mouthful of popcorn. She swallows hard before asking, “Why’d you click off?”

Cora stands up from the couch where she was seated right next to Mariana, dusting off the popcorn crumbs from her lap, “Ugh, that ‘threat’ is probably bullshit, Nova’s probably got it in the bag already,” Cora says, already walking out of their living room to make her way to the kitchen, “And besides, I don’t trust that Comet hero wannabe.”

Mariana scoffs, rolling her eyes, “Easy for you to say, you’re like Nova’s number one biggest superfan.”

The offhand comment almost makes Cora stop in her tracks to defend to literally defend herself, but she remembers that being too defensive might come off as a little weird and also, possibly, suspicious.

“Whatever. I’m heating up the leftovers for dinner, by the way.”

“Sounds delicious.”

-

While unpeeling cold slices of pizza from their plastic wrap prison, Cora thinks about White Comet, the meteorite, and how she really did need help at the time (even if it was from the one she despised most). She used to think of how ironic it is that the woman in an all-black, leathery-material type bodysuit is called White Comet, but when she’d seen the streak of white zip through the sky to slow down the falling projectile’s collision into some skyscrapers with a blast of frosty winds, she’d come to understand the moniker. 

White Comet hasn’t been around for as long as Cora’s hero counterpart, Nova, has. The former seemed to appear out of nowhere, completely breaking the rule of up to 3 registered supers per state. Nova, Onyx, and Titan were the established New York supers long before the speedy, floaty and icy outcast made a name for herself as America’s first self-proclaimed antihero amongst the sea of law-abiding do-gooders all the rest otherwise were. 

But when an unknown entity looked as though it would be plunging right into the heart of Albany, the Association knew not to call Onyx, whose invisibility was perfect for camouflage but not so much softening a crashlanding, nor Titan, whose strength of a thousand men would not be able to save him from possible radiation and the high level of kinetic energy from a 25,000 mph speed of travel that would truly crush him. Instead, they called Nova. They called Nova with the logic that pyrokinesis, teleportation, and the ability to phase through objects would be enough to stop this fast-approaching threat!

They didn’t take into account, however, the fact that Cora can’t conjure a portal big enough to take this meteor elsewhere, or that her intangibility would only save her, not the thousands of people living in the city. Also, controlling fire wouldn’t and couldn’t help the situation being faced, either.

But another thing the Association didn’t take into account was the other, technically illegal super with the same rare case of more than one power, too, and who, according to Comet herself, Nova could begrudgingly count on when she can’t handle shit all by herself.

Cora watches as the cheesy surface of the pizza bubbled up from the heat of the toaster oven, oil emerging from the pepperoni atop it and pooling amongst red sauce. 

She does this while remembering the smugness in Comet’s tone when she’d appeared to the rescue and offered the clever idea of making more than one portal to split the hulking meteor into more manageable bits before she’d fly up and cool them down to slow their fall.  

Of course, the uncalled for super’s plan worked.

And of course, the two disagreed on what to do thereafter.

White Comet wanted to take matters into her own hands, opting take bits of the rock to study on her own, untrusting of authority, while Nova remained the honorable hero that she always was, giving up the extraterrestrial element to her higher-ups. 

The whole affair was exasperating, to say the least, but at least she has Mariana to come home to. She finds relief in that no matter how pissy she gets, she can look forward to the ease Mari brings into her life. Her best friend’s sharp, witty way of speech could almost be at odds with White Comet’s constant flow of sarcastic quips. The antihero’s swift manner of decision-making is comparable to that of Mari’s unwavering drive to get shit done and to get shit done fast. 

She ponders this for a while,

Mari doesn’t take anything seriously too, and she doesn’t respect people in positions of power.

Huh.

White Comet could be as hot as Mari too-

Wait stop, Cora, what the fuck.

And it’s so funny because they both may be quite alike, but they could never be the same.

People like us with entirely contrasting beliefs can never and will never get along,

Cora concludes this in her own mind,

Even if we’re technically on the same side, I can’t shake that she’s somehow my total opposite,

“You done with that dinner yet?” Mariana calls from the living room, interrupting Cora’s train of thought.

“In a minute, Mari!”

Almost like my nemesis.

-

When it comes to Cora, Mariana gets confused. 

They’ve only been living together for a year now, but Mariana feels like she’s known the other girl for forever, and yet, she still wants to get to know her even more. Cora’s an interesting, dynamic person—serious, but not without a sense of humor, far too kind, but never to a fault, and oh, so thoughtful that with every bad day at work, Mariana would know to arrive home to a night of her favorite movies (all awful, cheesy horror flicks), her favorite meals, and the comfort of Cora’s warm embraces. 

Today was no different. Every encounter she would have with Nova would prove to be just as, if not even more, frustrating as the last. 

Chain of crimes possibly linked to some sort of evil mastermind? Mariana decides: figure it out ourselves without complicating too much shit, although, Nova says: contact the proper authorities, hand them the information we’ve collected, and stay out of it. Nova was right there, as they both wouldn’t have had enough expertise to deal with the convoluted plans of The Nocturne (also, that name, seriously?).

Emerging mutants from nearby wastewater dumps? Mariana thinks: kill them all, they’re cause trouble anyway, while godforsaken, righteous Nova says: let’s try to save them first if they even can be saved. Nova's right again, and those poor souls end up reverting to human form after a trip to the Association's main laboratory.

Mariana’s got a simple, one-track, get-to-the-fucking-point mindset and that’s all there is to it. All this official registered bullshit is, well, bullshit to her.

(Is there an explanation for her behavior? Maybe. But a retelling of her tragic backstory is overrated, and Mariana just gives no shits.)

So a cozy night of leftover pizza, cuddles, and stormy weather with Cora would be just enough to make her forget about the ever-annoying Nova and her goody-two-shoes ideals. And god does her roommate make her feel so safe and loved, especially knowing her kind-of colleague detests the way she works.

So yeah, at times like this, Mariana tries her best to make her moves then and there.

But whenever she leans further into Cora, head on her neck and hands grazing the exposed small of her back where her pajama shirt has ridden up, it almost feels like she’s touching fire.

“You’re a little too warm there, Cor,”

Cora would then back away, too quickly, like she was the one burned by Mariana’s touch and not the other way around, “Sorry, I just heat up when I’m nervous, I guess.”

At that, the other girl’s lips curl into a smirk, “Do I make you nervous?”

“Shut up,” Cora rolls her eyes in an attempt to remain unbothered, only to end up burying her face in her hands.

-

Sometimes, Cora forgets just how boring and bland regular work is. Unfortunately, the Association is non-profit.

"Miss Lee, this needs to be done by Tuesday. Don't forget, this Tuesday."

I'll literally burn this desktop computer.

"Yes, sir."

"Drop it off as soon as possible, okay? Don't be late."

I can literally teleport it in an instant.

"Yes, sir."

She forgets this, dreading her pedestrian office job until the usual 9-to-5 day ends, and she’s forced to patrol with White Comet (who isn’t even required by law to do so, they just coincidentally happen to be monitoring the same areas).

After that, she instead feels a wave of exhaustion and a reminder that both her jobs are pretty bad. And the super one doesn’t even pay the bills, with their rights to keep their secret identities and all.

She sighs, slamming the door to her apartment as she enters.

Mariana’s head whips towards Cora at the door from where she’s sat on the couch watching TV. Through a mouthful of chewed-up pretzels, she mumbles, “How’s work?”

“Shit,” Cora says, plopping down next to Mariana on the couch, “I’m quitting.”

“You say that every time,” Mariana laughs, chucking a throw pillow at her roommate.

“I know! And one day I’ll mean it.”

“If you’ll quit, who’s gonna pay the rent then?”

Cora reaches down the bag of pretzels, grabbing a fistful to consume, “Dunno, your art seems to be doing pretty well though. You finish all those at like, the speed of light or something.”

Mariana grins, “Yeah, I’m fast at finishing the shit I love to do, you know? Besides, be thankful you've got a future great artist by your side.”

"I've got waaayy too many Mari Hernandez originals, I'll be a millionaire someday. Then I'll quit."

"Sure, babe."

And so they continue to watch TV, a comfortable silence set between them.

“But seriously, don’t quit, I'm not rich yet, and New York apartments are expensive,”

Cora flings a pretzel at her.

-

On a particularly bad day, Mariana is fixed on the notion that she has had enough of Nova’s bullshit.

This bad day also happened to fall on her best friend’s birthday, and god knows how long she’s been preparing for that. She’d adorned their apartment with the classic, colorful, children’s party-esque decor that Cora adored. There were balloons everywhere, the floor was littered with confetti, and a birthday-cake-flavored birthday cake sat atop their coffee table, and Cora opened the main door to that mess made out of Mariana’s love for her.

It was all smiles and laughter and oh my god you didn’t have to,

But that glowy rock that she and Nova had caught a few days back ended up being really bad news, and neither of them could have predicted the shit it’d cost. 

There seemed to have been matching alerts on both of their phones.

And suddenly, Cora had to excuse herself to the bathroom to take a really long shit, but that was okay because apparently, so did Mariana. 

So honestly, Mariana had far more important things to worry about than rocks that killed non-super mortals when they’re exposed to its radiation for more than a few hours (sue her for only caring about herself and one other person). The collapse of one of the Association’s investigatory units is hardly anything to make a fuss about, Mariana thinks, because these powerful little shits get right back up after they fall, with or without their beloved heroes.

It’s not like they haven’t taken other too,

In other states, other cities, other places.

It’s a give and take.

“Oh my fucking god,” Nova cries, her campy, bright superhero outfit composed of a tight spandex top, a skirt and a literally fucking cape, playing a funny irony against the genuine infuriation that ripped right through her, “You just don’t get it do you! We can’t just do whatever with this shit, Comet! Take this seriously!”

“It’s not even killing us, so we can take them,” Mariana dismisses the frantic hero, wanting to get back home as quickly as possible, “And I am taking this seriously! Where are your other officially registered super friends now, huh?”

“We can’t all take whatever shit we want with us back to our little lairs, dumbass!”

“Where are those real heroes that you love so much, huh? Call them for help for a fucking change.”

“Some of us live with the people we love! Some of us aren’t sad, lonely people.”

And that’s when Mariana snapped.

“Listen here, you bootlicking motherfucker, I have someone important to get back to right after this. Probably the only person left that I care about. Someone I love to death.”

The campy-outfit-clad super stands her ground, arms crossed and head held high still as Mariana continues, “And I’m obviously not taking these things back to where I live because that’s where she lives too. I’m using my fucking head and taking these things so far away that no non-super mortal could ever lay a finger on it.”

Nova visibly tenses up at this proposition, and Mariana knows that it means she’s right.

-

The fact that Cora was convinced at that idea made her wonder if those rocks really did have an effect on her—with that it made her incredibly fucking stupid and blind to common sense. White Comet was right.

Cora clears her throat, “Okay, yeah, that’s not a bad idea.”

“Thank you,” the woman in all black says, “Now let’s fucking get this over with.”

-

Flight and teleportation turn out to be really useful powers when you need to haul a bunch of lethal, radiation-emitting meteorites literally into the sun to get rid of them. Supers don't need oxygen to breathe, by the way.

It’s pretty good teamwork, actually. White Comet flies as close as she could get to the sun without bursting into flames, and Nova plays portal basketball and throws each piece of the meteorite into a portal that leads to a fiery demise on the other side. 

But Nova really can’t let White Comet get the last laugh, so she follows up on Comet’s last remark.

“And by the way, I have someone to get back home to, as well.”

“Good for you.”