Superheroes Don't Wear Pink

Chapter One

I apologize in advance for the length of this chapter. It is extremely short, like a little under two-thousand words but there wasn't really anything else I needed to add to it. Next chapter should be longer but in the meantime, please enjoy this one.

The bike rode smoothly down the city streets, slipping through corners and squeezing in between stopped cars the way no taxi could. That's what she loved about the Harley Davidson motorcycle, after all. And the sleek black appearance that blended so well with the shadows didn't hurt, either.

Her clothes, like the bike, were entirely black, complete with a mask over her eyes and tall black combat boots; colored to camouflage with the night - even though city lights didn't allow it ever to be completely dark - and comfortably flexible for agile and swift movements.

She turned sharply down an alley, her high and tight ponytail nearly whipping her in the process. The narrow street was a shortcut that brought her moments later back into the crowded streets of Chicago, only six blocks farther. As she merged with the road, she wove her bike skillfully through the natural crevices of traffic.

The wheels screamed as she whipped the bike suddenly, too late to avoid snagging the curb but quick enough to prevent a crash; the minimal damage being the surprised faces of startled pedestrians. Too busy to stop and apologize, she tossed an 'I'm sorry!' over her shoulder, only for it to be drowned out by the mechanical roaring of the motorcycle and lost in the wind.

She swerved through the lanes and into oncoming traffic, cars honking mercilessly and people taking the time to lean out the window to yell at her and throwing fingers at her with all the hospitality of Chicago. Tossing her head back, she laughed long and loud, the combination of October wind and motorcycle breeze hitting her face and turning her cheeks pink.

This was what she loved best: riding through the streets on a late October night with the wind blowing back her hair, leaving it too messy to be considered pretty but gorgeous nonetheless. And the weather, of course. The cold chill of October that wasn't as warm as September but excluded the frostbite of November was where she truly thrived.

The smile on her face was inevitable.

And she imagined the city as her stage, the incomprehensible background noise of city life suddenly becoming her soundtrack. She was the protagonist, a spotlight shining down on her as she rode through the streets and the chorus of vehicles behind her crescendoing as the opening credits began.

And when, as she turned a corner, the deafening screams of a terrified young woman sliced through the music, she knew that this musical would surely be opening with a bang.

Sawyer hadn't planned on spending Valentine's Day alone.

Or, more specifically, alone working in a diner.

But when her boss, Karma, had called begging for extra help on a day that was sure to be one of the busiest, she just couldn't refuse because extra shifts meant extra money and extra money meant college funds which meant good college which meant good future.

And, seeing as she was at work, technically Sawyer wasn't alone. But it sure felt like it as she had been the only single person in a sea full of happy couples. Even Karma's girlfriend had stopped by on her lunch break to say hi - which was simply code for 'let's make out in the middle of the kitchen so that Sawyer has to walk past us and witness all this in order to successfully do her job' . As if she hadn't seen enough of that in her customers.

(She would die happy if she never had to see another rose again). (Or chocolate for that matter). (Fact No. One about Sawyer: She didn't really mean the chocolate thing).