Title: Un-Division
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Language
Summary: A continuation of last years' novel, Super + Ordinary. Against the backdrop of a conventional zombie attack, a group of people, both normal and not, become more than just pieces of the whole picture.
Notes: A slow start, but I'm finally starting to pick up speed. These guys are filled with angsty angst angst.

Word count:
     Goal: 8 000
     Acutal: 3 841


Part One: The Hardest Part is Beginning

Chapter One: Not a Sound on the Pavement

Do you love me
Like I love you
Or am I standing still
Beneath the darkened sky

- Standing Still, Jewel


“I once heard the sky compared to cat vomit.”

Lightning Lad doesn’t even bother turning to face her. “You’re starting to sound like Starla.”

“I guess that might because I’ve been spending so much time around her.” Arch Cherie knows she is being disgustingly passive aggressive, but for some reason, the usual filter that exists between her brain and her mouth has abandoned her, leaving her to just spout whatever it is that comes to mind. And right now, she is feeling very…abandoned.

Lightning Lad continues studying the scenery laid out before them. They both know he’s thinking of his next response. He’s always been so careful with what he’s said, but most would miss the subtle change in his posture that indicates a shift from brooding to more light hearted consideration.

“Why do you think that is?” he finally asks her.

“I’m not going to bother answering that. You and I both know the answer to that and I’m really not in the mood to play this little song and dance number with you.”

“Tough day at school?”

“I give up.” She finally settled down next to him, laying her bow next to her. Together, they stared out at the city that lay below them, a city they had both sworn to protect years ago.

Admittedly, being several hundred feet above ground when she had no powers whatsoever to save her from certain death, unlike her companion, was a bit nerve-wracking. And yet, most people would never experience the rush of sitting on the ledge of the tallest building in their home city completely legally and staring out at the place that had shaped them into who they were. It was a thrill she relished.

“Look, Lightning Lad, I’m proud of you—we all are—and I am so glad that you were finally accepted as a full League member. I mean, I know what it took to get you there, and neither of are happy about what had to happen to get you there, but…” she trailed off. She was rambling. She really needed to learn how to be more concise with her words. No one would ever catch Power House rambling like some sort of a fourteen year-old asking her crush to a Sadie Hawkins dance.

“We miss you, Lightning. Not just Maverick and me, but Starla. She really looked up to you, you know. And she lost Spangled Starr. She really… I don’t think she knows where to go with her life right now.”

Arch Cherie turned towards him, but he didn’t move or say anything.

“Just think about it, okay?”

She picked up her bow and stood.

“It was… nice seeing you again.”

#

After leaving Lightning Lad on the roof, Arch Cherie headed back to the warehouse that served as her personal base of operations. She listened to the police scanner for a few minutes (a robbery foiled by Maverick, a carjacking turned high speed chase that Lightning Lad handled easily) and then changed and headed back to her dorm.

She had always been careful to keep her relationship with her fellow Junior League members professional, but now that they were each accepting more and more solo assignments, she was beginning to realize just how much she was alone.


Chapter Two: I’m Going to Steal Me Away; Catch Me if You Can

All the riches baby, won’t mean anything
All the riches baby, won’t bring what your love can bring

-Rich Girl, Gwen Stefani

Megan Zook was many things. A thief, a brutal businesswoman, an award-winning graphics designer; she was all of these things. But one thing she was not was a villain.

At least, not after tonight.

Fiona Fenchild was the famed celebutante daughter of a former mass media mogul turned politician whose stance on meta-human rights rocked the airwaves in a generation that cared more about what his daughter was wearing than the legislation he was trying to get passed. She also lived alone in a penthouse with a glass ceiling (literally) and the single-most valuable piece of pottery in the entire eastern United States.

The fact that her father’s hard-pushed legislation against meta-humans would most certainly destroy Megan’s business and entire way of living did not factor into her decision to steal this precious piece of pottery. It did not, however, make it anywhere near the con column of the pro-con list she made when deciding whether or not she was willing to pull one more big heist before retiring forever from the public eye.

And this was to be her last heist.

She had a fiancé at home, waiting for her to retire so that they could get married. And she had never really cared for breaking the law. She had to fund graduate school somehow, and it was either breaking into banks and museums to steal valuables, or prostituting herself on the streets, and when choosing between two evils, she had to appreciate the one that allowed her to wear a mask to hide her identity from any prying law enforcement.

She liked to believe she thought all of her decisions through to the best of her ability.

This, however, was one variable she could not have predicted.

Maverick had been famously absent in the past few months, and yet here she was, spoiling what was supposed to be Megan’s final crime.

It was an unfortunate turn of events, but one that Megan was prepared for either way. And Maverick certainly seemed to be off her game tonight. Wherever she had been these last few months, it certainly had not been off training with monks.

Or, maybe she had finally lost her edge.

That’s what Maverick kept intoning within her own head, at least, while she dodged Feline Fatale’s kicks and punches. She had been hoping for an easy night to help her get her footing back as she was attempting to heal herself from the reeling shock that had come from Maree’s death. She had taken a vacation, tried clearing her head. She had taken a Pilates class. It was supposed to help.

So far, it hadn’t. And now she was trying to fight one of the most famous jewel thieves on her ex-best friend’s rooftop and failing horribly.

Feline Fatale’s whip suddenly came out of nowhere and she felt herself falling through Fiona’s skylight. She hit the coffee table and stars of pain exploded across her eyesight.

“Thanks for opening the door for me, kid,” she heard Feline Fatale say, but by the time she had managed to drag her body off the ground, the thief was gone.

“What are you doing in my seven-thousand dollar coffee table?”

She turned, her head protesting every inch of change from its position, and her vision fell upon Fiona Fenchild, dressed only in a large mens’s shirt.

“Um. I…”

The heiress rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. I’ll just get another one tomorrow. Just… get your foot of it or something.” She turned. “I guess you can just crash here for the night. You can’t go back out there looking like that, and we’ve both got school in about four hours anyways.”


Chapter Three: Those Awkward Secret Encounters from Last Night (Or: I think we’re cool)

Remember Harbor Boulevard
The dreaming days where the mess was made
Look how all the kids have grown
We have changed but we’re still the same
And after all that we’ve been through
I know we’re cool

- Cool, Gwen Stefani


“You look like hell,” Fiona intoned as Liz approached her in the hall.

“Gee, thanks Fi. I had such a great night last night. I bet it really shows.”

“So what happened anyways?”

“Well, I was fighting a masked jewel thief and fell through this heiress’ sky light and into her very sturdy coffee table. Did you finish reading the chapter last night?”

The two rounded the corner of the hall and ambled into their classroom.

“Yes. Did you finish cleaning up the remnants of my very sturdy coffee table?”

“Absolutely.”

Fiona turned to her, surprised. “Really?”

“Absolutely.” Liz met her skeptical gaze.

Fiona arched a carefully sculpted eyebrow. “Not?”

“Absolutely not,” Liz finally relented.

Fiona shook her head. “I knew it.”

Liz snorted. “You did not.”

“You were just going to leave that giant mess for me to clean—“

“You didn’t let me finish what I was saying! I was going to say—“

“I don’t care what you were going to say. It’s what you didn’t say.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“Well, we could try by starting with ‘I’m sorry.’”

Liz rolled her eyes and started arranging the books on her desk. “Okay. Fine. I’m sorry.” She set her book bag on the floor by her feet. “What am I sorry for anyways?”

“How about ‘Hey, Fiona. I’m really sorry about breaking your ceiling and falling through your living room table last night and waking you up at four o’clock in the morning’?”

“Um. No.”

“What?”

“You heard me. En. Oh. No. I’m not sorry. And you know why? Because I was trying to keep Feline Fatale from stealing your damned vase that you refuse to keep in storage—“

“My mother gave me that vase—“

“All the more reason you should take good care of it—“

“I am taking good—“

“I hardly call getting it stolen taking good care of it.”

“You know what? Shut up—“

“Oh yes. Because that is mature.”

“Hey guys, hate to interrupt, but do you know where Dr. Koenig is? He’s usually here by now.” The two of them turned to Christina Chaplewood, surprised at the interruption.

“Um…no idea, Christy,” Liz offered up.

Fiona rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, because that is really helpful.”

“What can I say, I live to serve.”

“Oh I’m sure you do—“

“Oooh…! Who’s that? He’s…dishy.”

The two turned to Christy again. “What?”

“Who actually talks like that anymore?”

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

In front of the classroom stood a young man who was definitely not their usual elderly instructor. He was tall with broad shoulders and slightly mussed hair, as if he had just come from a quick run around campus. He couldn’t have been more than a few years older than any of them.

Liz leaned in towards Fiona. “Fi, it’s—“

The stranger spoke. “Um, okay. If I could please, um. If I could please have your attention please?”

The classroom turned its skeptical eye upon the newcomer with the general attitude of a cat observing a blade of grass on a windless day while lying in the sun.

“Uh, thank you,” he added on. “I am, uh… I’m Lucas—Luke—Johnson and I will be replacing Dr. Koenig who will be out…due to, uh…him having to get hip replacement surgery.” He paused to regard the classroom warily. “I guess I will, uh…call roll.”

Luckily the geology class was small, since most students chose the more familiar sciences like chemistry, biology, and physics over the lesser-known physical science. A few names stood out for the celebrity attached to them, Fiona Fenchild and Elizabeth Rider, namely and Luke furrowed his brow as he came to the former and stuttered miserably when he announced the latter.

“So, uh…any questions?”

Christy’s hand shot up quickly.

“Um, yes, uh…” he bent down to consult his copy of the class roster. “Christina Chaplewood?”

She beamed at him. “Everyone,” she gushed, “calls me Christy.” She looked up at him expectantly.

He looked back at her uncomfortably. “Okay. What is your question…Christy?” His voice cracked a bit at the end of his sentence.

She smiled back at him. “How old are you and what is your current relationship status?”

“Uh…” Luke floundered and looked slightly panicked. “I am twenty-four.”

Christy leaned forward. “And…?” she pushed.

Somewhere in the distance, an explosion sounded.

“And that sounds like an explosion,” he started. “Class dismissed.”

At his words, Liz vaulted out of her seat and ran out of the classroom. She raced through the quad, pulling off her clothes and shoving them in her school bag as she ran.

As she turned into the courtyard, she ran into Lightning Lad. Literally.

“Lu—Lightning Lad!”

“Maverick.”

They stood, staring at each other as sirens rang in the distance.

“So, uh…what are you doing here?” she asked, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence between them.

“Finishing the requirements for my grad work and working as a T.A. to for the geology department to fund my…”

“Extracurricular activities?” she offered.

He laughed. “Yeah, I guess we can call them that.”

They stood, watching each other as the sounds of an emergency rescue continued to reach their ears from several miles away.

“We should get that,” Liz finally pushed.

“Uh…yeah. I guess you’re right,” Lightning Lad relented. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around from now on.”

“Yeah. At least until Dr. Koenig gets back.” Liz studied him critically before pulling her goggles on. “It was good seeing you again…Luke.”

He smiled at her. “You too, Maverick.”

#

“That was stupid.”

“Lightning Lad—“

“You’re not invulnerable.”

“Lightning Lad—“

“You can’t help anyone if you’re dead.”

“I know that.”

“Really? Because sometimes I wonder—“

“Luke!”

His head snapped towards her. “Don’t,” he snarled, “call me that when I’m dressed like this!”

“What are you trying to hide?”

“Everything, okay?” He glared at her, daring—begging—her to stand down with every fiber of his being.

She looked at him sadly. “You’ve never had to hide anything from me before.”

Luke sighed and ran his hand over the back of his neck reflexively. “I’m sorry, okay. I was just worried about you.”

Maverick turned away from him. “That wasn’t what I asked.”

“I didn’t hear a question.”

“That’s never stopped you before.” You used to know me so well, I never had to ask, hung unsaid between them.

“That’s, uh. You have Stephen for that now, don’t you?” he asked, unsure of which answer he actually wanted to hear.

“And you’ve got Arch Cherie for that yourself, don’t you?” her reply surprised him.

“That’s not—no! I don’t…” he floundered.

“Then what do you mean, Luke?” She turned back to him.

“I…don’t know.”


Chapter Four: While You’re Away

But the only one here now is me
I’m fighting things I cannot see
I think it’s called my destiny
That I am changing

-Marlene on the Wall, Suzanne Vega

There weren’t very many things that Charlotte-please-call-me-Charlie Sechengrast did with her peers any more. She never had time for football games or cheerleading tryouts or homework. Her grades had dropped and she had been kicked off the volleyball, field hockey, and lacrosse teams. Her friends had stopped calling her and she couldn’t remember the last time she had been on a date—or even had time to worry about that fact.

But this? This made all of that worth it.

Whatever “normalcy” she may have been missing out on for the past year was made up by the sickening crunch she felt as her right hook caught Tara Trump in the face. The missed school dances and dress shopping excursions didn’t matter to her as the cameras flashed around her. She didn’t care about the missed practices and tryouts and yearbook photo opportunities. None of it mattered (really) as she hand cuffed the card-themed villainess to door of the hotel she had attempted to blow up.

She didn’t miss any of it at all. Not really. Not when she could be fighting for truth, justice, and…

Okay, that was her cell phone vibrating in her boot, so she really needed to make this short.

And yet, the appeal of her shambling life was not quite enough to pull her away from the crowd of reporters edging towards her.

“Excuse me, Miss Starla? Stephen Thomas Noel, UUP. May I have a word with you?”

She smiled and walked towards the sharply dressed university student. “Sure, anything for the public.”

And anyways, that’s what voice mail was for, wasn’t it?


Chapter Five: After a Superhero Falls Through Your Living Room

The world can end and that is fine, ‘cause your mine
Inside I only care about the one I love

-On my Mind, Damone

“So she went through your coffee table?” Roy ran his fingers through his hair as he surveyed the damage.

Fiona rolled her eyes and flipped a page in her magazine. “Well she went through the sky light first.”

Roy rolled his eyes and finally sat down next to her. “Oh yes. Well, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Fiona flipped another page. “How do you think I’d look with bangs?”

“You look fine,” he murmured as he moved to lean his chin on his clasped hands. “So is she alright?”

Fiona glanced at him. “Of course she’s alright; she’s Maverick.” Roy glared at her. “Oh fine. She’s got a few bruises and she may have been walking a little funny at school today, but I’m sure she’s used to it. Anyways,” she added, “the table broke her fall. And it’s not as if I’ve got a vaulted ceiling or anything. You keep complaining yourself that the ceiling is too low and that it makes you feel claustrophobic.”

“Fiona,” he lectured, “she fell through your roof and landed on your coffee table. Aren’t you even the least bit concerned?”

“Why should I be? She’s Maverick; she can do anything. It’s like Kim Possible without the creepy mole rat and the loser ass boyfriend.”

“Fio…”

“Oh don’t Fio me!” she snapped as she turned at him. “You’re not the one who’s best friend died because she wasn’t there to save her.” Fiona threw her magazine down on what should have been her coffee table. “She’s not the one that just abandoned you after discovering she had some sort of great new talent. You’re not the one who had to plan the entire senior prom and yearbook and explain to all of your friends why she suddenly didn’t have the time for any of us! I’m sick of everyone saying how great she is. So what if she saves people? She’s so full of herself that it’s totally not worth even caring anymore.”

“Fiona.”

“What?”

“She’s not…the only one who’s had to make those sacrifices, you know. And if it’s really something that—“

“Don’t you dare and try to compare yourself to her, Roy. You actually try to be here. You apologize when you can’t be here. And every time you aren’t here, I know you want to be,” her face softened. “Her eyes were always somewhere else. She never cared about us.”

“And I love you,” she added as she moved closer to him so she could wrap her arms around him. “And no matter what happens, if the world ends tomorrow, or we both get abducted by aliens, or whatever… I love you.”

He smiled. “I love you too, Fio.”

“But…?”

“What makes you think there’s a ‘but’ attached to the end of that? Love is supposed to be unconditional.”

She raised a delicate eyebrow at him, “Roy, you are secretly Long Shot, masked sharp shooter and hero extraordinaire. There is always a ‘but.’”

“Okay fine.” He sighed and slipped out of her grasp. “I love you,” he kissed her, “but I promised Steve that I’d help him track a lead he had on the drug cartel responsible for last week’s—“

“Roy?”

“Yes?”

She kissed him. “I love you. You can go.”


Chapter Six: Easily Made Comparisons

You said “move on”
Where do I go?
I guess second best
Is all I will know

-Thinking of You, Katy Perry

Liz stalked up to the chic little café and threw her over-sized purse on the ground and dropped herself gracelessly in a chair and glared sharp death daggers at her sharp-faced companion seated across the table.

He smiled at her and leaned forward.

“Something wrong, Princess?”

She yanked the menu open violently.

“What the hell do you want, Flexion?”

The man rolled his eyes and adjusted his glasses before turning his attention back to his own menu. “Please, since we know each other on such an intimate level, you can call me Thomas, like every other girl I have—“

“I don’t care about all of the girls you’ve managed to seduce in the past year with your vile, slime-coated tongue.”

“Tsk tsk, Princess…”

“Did you actually just say, ‘tsk tsk’?”

The villain smiled idly and sipped from his glass.

“I can’t decide between the grilled chicken spiedini or the shrimp primavera…” He looked up at her. “What about you?”

“I’ll have the chicken ravioli,” she deadpanned.

He smiled thinly at her. “Right, then. I’ll have the chicken fettuccine alfredo, myself.” He motioned to the waiter.

“Now then, care to share why you’re so snippy today?”

“Maybe because you killed Maree?”

“Are you still crying about that?” Their waiter approached their table.

Thomas turned to him. “She’ll have the chicken ravioli and I’ll have the chicken fettuccine alfredo, and have the chef throw in some extra spinach there, will you?”

Liz waited until the young boy left to continue. “She was my best friend,” she hissed.

He shrugged. “She would have died anyways. At least this way, she got a memorial named after her.”

She threw her hands up. “Why am I even here talking to you?”

“Do you really want to know?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “You agreed to come here to meet with me today, just as you did last week, and the week before that, and the week before that, because I am all you have left of your dearest Maree. I was the last one to see her vibrant little eyes alive and I was the last one to hear what she had to say and I was the one that took that all away from you. And you don’t have any proof other than the word of a villain. And so you come here, week after week after torturous week, because these little luncheons with me are all you have to remember her by.”

He smiled at her as he ended with that little flourish.

She glared at him and took a sip of her water.

“Now, you know,” he began, “I had the most scintillating interview today. You’ll never guess with whom.”

He waited for her response.

She twiddled a bread stick between her fingers.

He smiled again and leaned forward.

She glanced at him idly and continued to play with her food.

“Fine then,” he acquiesced, “since you are just dying with anticipation, I shall tell you.”

Liz began stacking the breadsticks in an unsteady tower.

“I had an interview today with little Miss Starla.”

The tower tumbled down.

“What?”

“Oh? So you do care about my life.”

She glowered at him. “Stay away from her.”

“Why, my petulant little buttercup?”