2.09 – A Beautiful Friendship

Leona laid down on her bed and thought hard about Black Angel’s reemergence. The memory of that sly smile haunted her, replaying over and over as she stared at the ceiling. What did it mean? Why now? Her heart drummed anxiously as questions without answers swirled in her mind.

She rolled over to let her tension ebb off, clinging to the soft fabric of her blanket like it could ground her. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t fully clear her thoughts. Black Angel wasn’t just a nightmare or a fleeting thought—she was real, and her presence loomed larger now than ever before. Leona clenched her jaw and shut her eyes tight, willing her mind to quiet.

Eventually, her body gave in to exhaustion, and she dropped off to sleep.

Immediately, she began to dream.

The void around her was a pristine, endless white, and she stood within it transformed, the radiant light of her aura casting a faint glow against the blankness. Then, Sarah appeared, stepping toward her like a vision come to life. Leona’s heart leapt, and she ran to her, throwing herself into Sarah’s arms.

The warmth of their embrace was intoxicating, and the world around them faded. They cuddled, the space between them disappearing as they held each other close. Time seemed to lose all meaning as they stayed there, basking in the unspoken connection that tied them together. Days and days passed—or at least, that’s how it felt.

When Leona woke up, she blinked against the morning light, her heart still fluttering from the intensity of the dream. As the haze of sleep cleared, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. The dream was a bit more intense than she consciously recalled, judging by a certain reaction that other women might not normally face in the morning.

Her breath hitched as she became acutely aware of the situation. Her body burned with embarrassment, and she yanked the sheets up higher to shield herself from some imaginary intruder’s gaze. Really? That? she thought, her hands pressing against her flushed face. She couldn’t help the soft groan that escaped her lips. Dreams like that were extremely rare for her, and it only made her realize just how much she missed Sarah.

Determined not to dwell on it, she focused on calming herself. Taking a deep breath, she curled up tightly, letting herself relax as the tension slowly ebbed away. She blushed furiously, still hiding under the sheets just in case anyone barged in.

After a bit, she sat up with a renewed sense of resolve. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she quickly gathered some clean clothes and headed for the bathroom to clean up. The hot water helped ease her lingering embarrassment, and by the time she finished, she felt more composed.

Still, as she rushed downstairs to join the others, a faint redness lingered on her cheeks.

Goonie and Quinn were already in the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sliced fruit filling the air. Quinn looked as tired as Leona felt, her eyes heavy-lidded as she lazily stirred a bowl of cereal.

They shared a knowing smile.

“You’re looking tired, but happy,” Quinn teased, her tone playful despite her grogginess. She raised her fists and threw a couple of half-hearted punches in the air. “You gonna fight some crime now?”

Leona smirked and rolled her eyes as she took a seat.

“It’s a Saturday, no school, so Leona is going to speak with the police here in San Isidro today,” Goonie pitched in, her voice calm and steady as she set a breakfast spread of fruit and muesli in front of Leona. She poured herself a cup of coffee before continuing. “After that, I imagine she intends to practice a lil’ more. Flight today, wasn’t it? Speed, distance, navigating to certain isolated campgrounds… All so you understand your limits better, right?”

Leona met her mother’s knowing smile with a sheepish grin. She knew Goonie was fully aware of her plan to see Sarah.

“I don’t think she should go alone,” Quinn interjected, setting her spoon down with a clatter. “Lend me the car, and I’ll drop you off at work. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Ha, nice try, Quinn,” Goonie said, laughing as she shook her head. “You get no car until we get yours released from the impound. You have your DJ stuff to worry about anyway, don’t you?”

“Hey!” Quinn protested, her voice rising in earnest. “Even I know that family’s more important than my interests.” She grinned and cast a sidelong glance at Leona. “Besides, someone needs to watch her butt, right?”

“Well, in the event that you develop powers and get a costume of your own, you can be her sidekick,” Goonie replied, her laughter bubbling up again. “Until then, you are basically grounded, Miss Quinn.”

“How come she gets to go out then?” Quinn huffed, crossing her arms. “She went with me—you said it yourself, she could’ve said ‘no’...” Her sigh was dramatically despondent, her posture slumping theatrically.

“Because your sister has responsibilities that go along with her power, Quinn. Honestly, if this had happened to you, I’d feel obligated to let you out too.” Goonie’s tone softened as she turned to Leona. “Leona has to learn the limits of her powers so she doesn’t endanger herself or others, and…” She wagged a finger at Leona, her expression firm. “She shouldn’t be doing superhero stuff until she’s sure of her limitations!”

Leona shrugged and smiled. “I couldn’t just let something as blatant as a heist or as dangerous as a construction accident pass. You taught me better than that.”

Goonie frowned a little, her brow furrowing in thought. “...Fine, but I hope you’d be a little smarter than to fight people with guns until you were sure you could survive a gunshot. Sigh, all’s well that ends well, I suppose.”

The three continued to banter and eat until breakfast was completed.

As Leona got up to leave the kitchen, Quinn hopped up and intercepted her, pulling her into a tight bearhug.

“Seriously, be careful, okay?” she said, her voice earnest.

Leona heard the smile in Goonie’s voice. “I know it’s rare, but I agree. Do as your sister says in this case.” She joined the tight hug, and Leona was sandwiched between them, the warmth and weight of their embrace grounding her. Contented, they backed off, and Leona was free to go.

She stepped outside, the brisk morning air brushing her skin, and began walking toward the quieter, less open parts around her neighborhood. She needed a private place to transform—charging off out of her window every time wasn’t practical, nor did it seem particularly subtle.

She wound up at the usual thick copse of trees. The smell of pine and damp earth surrounded her as she stood in the clearing, scanning the area to make sure it was empty. Satisfied, she whispered a few words to help her focus on her transformation, and light engulfed her. Moments later, she stood as Aurora.

With a quick leap, she launched into the sky, the wind catching under her wings as she ascended into the brilliant blue expanse. The world below fell away, shrinking into a patchwork of streets and rooftops. San Isidro spread out before her, its sprawling urban grid less polished than Seaside’s but brimming with its own kind of vibrant energy.

Aurora’s destination was the San Isidro Police Headquarters. As she approached, the building came into view—a large, stately structure that spoke of a bygone era. Its gothic design stood out against the modern chaos of the city surrounding it. Sharp, angular spires jutted skyward, and intricate stonework adorned the facade, with gargoyle-like carvings peering down at the street below. Time had worn the building’s grandeur; patches of soot and weathering marred the stone, giving it a grim, imposing look.

Descending, Aurora noticed the cracked stone steps leading to the heavy oak doors, framed by wrought-iron detailing that hinted at decades of history. Stained-glass windows high above caught the sunlight, casting fractured rainbows across the pale gray facade. The precinct seemed like a relic, straining to stay relevant amidst the bustling, ever-changing city it served.

As she touched down gracefully on the plaza in front of the headquarters, the usual murmur of city noise seemed to pause. Civilians nearby gasped, their wide-eyed stares a mix of awe and apprehension. Whispers rippled through the small crowd that had gathered. Aurora met their gazes with a neutral expression, her focus on her task.

She’d not been standing there for too long before the heavy doors creaked open, and a man stepped out—a stocky figure in a slightly rumpled button-down shirt, his floral tie an oddly cheerful clash against his professional demeanor. He walked toward her with purposeful strides, though his expression seemed caught between nervousness and professionalism.

“You must be that girl who captured the Blue Max gang the other day,” he said, stopping a few paces away. His smile was polite but lacked warmth, a little forced. “Come on in. We have some questions for you.”

Aurora gave him a small nod. “Lead the way,” she said, her voice calm.

Following him into the building, she was immediately struck by the stark contrast between its exterior and interior. The grandeur of the gothic facade gave way to an interior that felt like a patchwork of eras. The high, vaulted ceilings bore traces of their original design, with arched beams and elaborate moldings, but the space had been retrofitted over the years with fluorescent lighting and modern furniture that clashed with its old-world charm.

The floors were scuffed and uneven in places, and the faint scent of mildew lingered in the air, mixing with the smell of stale coffee and paper. It was clear the building had seen better days; the modern updates felt more like a bandage over a wound than a true restoration.

The detective led her past the reception desk into a wide, open-plan area. Desks were scattered haphazardly across the room, and officers in various states of activity bustled around them. Some sat hunched over paperwork, while others leaned on desk corners, deep in conversation. The air buzzed with the murmur of voices, the hum of computers, and the occasional crackle of a radio.

“San Isidro doesn’t have any kind of special super-crime department like Blue:Code, so I apologize that we’re just out in the open like this,” the man said as they stopped near a cluster of desks. He extended a hand. “I’m Ben Kirby, detective in the Major Crimes division. Thanks for coming in.”

Aurora shook his hand with a firm squeeze, her grip steady. “No problem,” she replied with a sunny smile. “I figured I should. I was a bit too busy yesterday to stop by, but it didn’t seem like a good idea to not get in contact with the police in my hometown, and from how fast you came out, you seem to have been expecting me.”

She glanced around, taking in the worn-down office and the frenetic energy of the precinct. “Are you going to develop a super-crime department now? Even if it’s just me,” she added with a playful, impish grin.

“We might have to,” Ben said, exhaling tiredly. His shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of his workload evident. “Still, I’m glad for any help we can get.”

Aurora grinned, excited. “Nice to meet you too. As organized and modern as Seaside’s Police Department seemed to be, I don’t think that I care much for their Super-crimes Detective’s attitude. I ended up getting caught up in some annoying stuff with them yesterday,” she said with a wry expression, her arms crossing momentarily before falling back to her sides in a casual but self-assured stance.

“I see,” Ben responded, nodding, his expression shifting to a knowing smirk. “Well, they’re relatively new and have plenty of money to burn. Not like us lowly denizens down here in San Isidro.” He sniggered, and the sound spread infectiously, raising chuckles from several other detectives listening in nearby.

“What? You don’t care for all this opulence?” one of the nearby detectives called out, leaning against a cluttered desk. The desk’s surface was a haphazard mess of papers, an old coffee mug with a chipped rim, and a stress ball that looked like it had been squeezed to its limit.

“Yes, indeed. I simply cannot give up all this prestige and affluence,” Ben Kirby replied in a faux-haughty tone, straightening his posture and gesturing grandly around the drab precinct. “Filthy rich though we may all be, I’ve got too many payments left on my yacht and all those summer homes.” His tone and exaggerated gestures had the room erupting in good-natured laughter, breaking through the otherwise tense atmosphere that hung over the building like a permanent cloud.

Aurora giggled along with the group, her smile broadening. She liked Kirby already. His humor felt authentic, his confidence unpretentious.

“Anyway, sorry, I know you’re probably busy.” He turned to Aurora, the levity fading into professionalism, his voice steady and clear. “I just need your hero name and any contact info you’re willing to give to us. A basic overview of your powers would be nice, and of course anything else you want to tell me.”

Aurora took in his calm, respectful demeanor. The striking difference was immediately apparent between Ben Kirby and Marlene Ruffino. Aurora already had a favorite between the two. Ben was the winner, of course!

You catch more flies with sugar than vinegar, as Goonie would say! Or fliers in this case.

Aurora smiled brightly, her violet eyes twinkling, and went through the list of things to say mentally. “I go by Aurora,” she stated simply. “As far as contact information goes, I’m concerned about protecting my secret identity. If you can think of a way to be in touch that wouldn’t subject my personal information to scrutiny, I’d be all for that.”