tainted dreams |p. parker ✔️

ii.

tainted dreams | chapter two
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Rosalie Evans, seven months in the future

It had become a routine-like event.

Rosalie would open the door of her dusty motel room, wherever in the world she was hiding at the moment, rise her face to the shining sun and smile.

Then, she would find a murderous gang or organisation and steal from their heavily guarded warehouses. Every time she did so, the leaders sent a troupe of their best men to stop her -her, a woman. They were always pissed when she managed to escape their sharp claws.

Because she was a woman. And she beat them all to a pulp. Sometimes killed a few of them if the situation got out of hand too quickly.

"Well, well, well." Rosalie spoke to herself as she counted the money that was left on the small hole under her mattress. "I really am poor."

She had enough money to pay for her room for another day and food for three meals. Sighing, she stuffed the money inside her back pocket and left for another walk around the bustling city of London.

The streets were quieter than usual. The air was not filled with laughter, exotic accents and the characteristic smell of cigarettes. Instead, gunshots were heard in an alleyway close to Rosalie's motel and yells for help echoed in her ears.

It wasn't her call to make, it would be wiser to call the authorities and wait for them to do their job. She couldn't -or shouldn't- risk exposure, and she would need her powers in order to stop a serious fight with weapons.

When she heard a children cry out for help, Rosalie's tingling arms and legs worked on their own and directed her to the centre of the problem.

A woman and a small child, no older than five years old, holding each other for dear life as five armed men stood around them, taunting them with their guns and searching the woman's bag and pockets. The child was not left alone, one of the thieves pinching his sides and pulling his hair.

That image alone turned Rosalie's stomach upside down. She knew what she had to do, even if she didn't want to get involved.

These guys are going to pay for this.

"Hey!" She yelled to get their attention, pulling her hoodie over her face. Her mask was sitting on her bag, back in the motel room. "Aren't you old enough to know you don't mess with a lady?"

Without giving them a chance to reply to her comment, she struck them with a wave of black mist, her hands moving in circles and forming boomerangs with sharp blades on the edges. Scratching the men was her goal, not sending them to their eminent death with deadly cuts.