Columbine

Every night, the fog killed scores of us.

The city of Metro needed a hero to protect them, and so I rose up and became the super-powered woman to save them all. I am Maverick, named for the city's most usually seen creature of flight. My civilian identity is Cora Nealy. When I took up the mantle of the heroic Maverick, I left behind my former mundane life as a citizen to combat crime in all its insidious forms. I usually triumphed, earning the keys to the city.

 I met more than I expected when I encountered someone called Columbine. 

Columbine was my arch foe, a foe of extraordinary caliber, if one were afraid of clowns. She was a commedia dell'arte-themed super-villain who's motive was to destroy the city of Metro, weaponizing lethal gas in the form of mist in our city every night that killed many inhabitants. Her motive was to eradicate Handcroft Laboratories, an organization responsible for medicine and chemicals vital to Metro's health and progress.

One day, I discovered a formidable truth when we battled amid the towering skyscrapers of metro. I was having a midnight flight when she arrived, indigo-haired with matching lipstick, taunting me with maniacal laughter. Up until this moment, I had yet to meet someone so unhinged-and so glaringly dangerous. We would grow close in later years, but that night, the fight was for mutual detest as much as it was about survival.

"The birdy's a long way from her nest," she said in a sing-songy voice. Columbine's face was contorted into a grimacing leer behind her clown half-mask. 

"Metro is mine to protect," I told her. "I hail from the faraway citadel of Celestion, where we have no tolerance for common criminals such as yourself."

"I dare you to fly, to fight. Come and stop me!" she said, firing bullets at me. My wings deflected her shots. I swooped into the air with metallic wings, shedding my trenchcoat. Once I reached her level on the rooftop where she stood, I lurched forward, holding her by the neck. She pivoted, slashing at me with an intricate dagger. I dodged the blows, my wings slicing through the air. Columbine freed herself from my wrenching grasp and we continued our battle, parrying back and forth in a vicious dance of death. She danced a vile ballet thorughout the rooftops, acrobatically dodging all of the blades that I slung at her. 

She stepped forward and cradled my jaw, speaking in a hushed tone.

"Look how you're all alone in life, waiting for even more recognition for gift-wrapped victories that you never deserved," she said. "Join me. This wretched city could be ours if you let it." I wrestled myself away, shaking my head at her attempt to seduce me into defeat with her carefully chosen words. Columbine knew my weakness, and wasn't afraid to use it against me.

"You're wicked scum," I spat out.

"Then die alone," she said. Was it true that she was truly insane? "Eenie...meenie, miny MOE!" she whispered, bellowing the last word while firing more bullets at me from a vintage hand-rifle.

I deflected again and surged towards her, slicing her neck with my razor-sharp wing. She coughed, stumbling downward to the street below. 

Feeling something akin to pity that I could not name, I descended and caught her, and we plummeted to the street.

Columbine clutched at my collar. I leaned closer. With a trembling hang, she removed her mask to reveal patterns of acid lesions trailing from her forehead to her right jaw.

"There's-there's something that you should know...about Handcroft Labs. They're not the city's saving grace. They held me captive since infancy and experimented on me..They took away the closest thing I had to a father figure, disfigured my face. I'm the villain I am because of Handcroft. Stay...far away."

I was stunned. The same place that was about to provide an antidote to Columbine's venomous fog was what twisted her into something possibly past saving? Was she right? Unable to shake her words from my head, I flew to the nearest hospital, dropped her at the door and set out to investigate her claims for myself.

Columbine's civilian identity was that of a theatrical drama teacher. One afternoon, I visited her at her school and pleaded with her to cease the toxic nightly mist. She relented with downcast eyes. 

"What are you really here for?" she asked.

"You," I said softly. "I want to make sure that you're alright after-well, let's forget the homicidal pleasantries. I found out that you're right about Handcroft. Turns out that they're up to more harmful things than just university science projects."

"So, you believe me?" asked Columbine. 

"We'll see, but it's a start," I said.

"Cora, listen to me. When this thing-" she gestured to her mask, "this Columbine thing takes over, I can't control-"

"No worries," I said, trying to understand her in some way. "This city I used to put on a spectacle pits us against each other. It's outside both of our control."

As time went on, we continued our game of fighting and alternately reconciling, with no conclusive winner every time. Sometimes, I let her get away, other times, she purposely ceased to slay me. She was right about Handcroft, so we joined forces to end their schemes forever. Having succeeded, we became more than hero and villain. We were connected by a common goal.

Months later, we grew closer, me and Columbine. At one time, I woke up and got out of bed to find that she wasn't in my room anymore. There was a note:

Dear Cora,

I can't keep up this charade anymore. 

I have to go after an enemy of yours on my own. 

I'm sorry.

Columbine Claude.

xoxo

I wept for hours at losing someone I had fought alongside to save our city. 

When my tears ceased to fall, there was one thing I knew for certain. That I would hunt Columbine down from every corner of the earth until I found her.

My search would continue.