The city lights glittered like a thousand diamonds scattered across a dark velvet sky. Up above, in a sleek penthouse suite, Brave Angel, the most formidable superheroine in Silver City, stood by the window, watching over her beloved metropolis. Her jet-black hair, tied in a messy bun, contrasted with her emerald green eyes that sparkled with a blend of determination and exhaustion. Her lithe, muscular frame was wrapped in a simple, white satin robe, a stark contrast to her usual attire.
Tonight, though, she wasn't Brave Angel, protector of the city. Tonight, she was just Georgia Garner, a woman needing a break from saving the world.
"Another glass of wine?" A deep, smooth voice pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to face the orator, a ruggedly handsome man with tousled dark hair and a mischievous glint in his piercing blue eyes. He was shirtless, revealing a body sculpted from a lifetime of... what? Gymnastics? Street fights? Opening canned jars for his mother because seriously, she needed to believe he did so whenever he went home. If he went home. Did he have a home? How much did she really know about him? But it didn't matter. Right now his muscles had muscles, and they all seemed to be grinning at her.
"Why not?" Georgia shrugged, allowing herself a rare moment of indulgence. The man, whose name she knew to be James, poured them both another of the expensive red wine he had apparently acquired from... somewhere. She didn't ask. She didn't want to know.
They clinked glasses, and she couldn't help but laugh. His presence was oddly comforting. He was charming, in a roguish sort of way, with a wit that kept her on her toes. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had such an engaging conversation, let alone a night like this. Except, that's right, they tended to do this often. And yet, each time it felt remarkably new and different. On these nights she could forget about villains and disasters, and just be a woman enjoying the company of a man.
"So tell me again what you do when you're not rescuing kittens from trees?" James asked, his grin wide and playful.
Georgia chuckled. "Oh, you know, the usual. Save the world, defeat bad guys, keep my hair from getting too tangled in the process."
He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. "Sounds like you need a vacation."
"Maybe," she murmured, feeling a shiver run down her spine. "But who would take care of Silver City?"
"Someone will always be there," he said softly. "Even heroes need a break."
In a blur of laughter, whispers and fleeting kisses, night turned into daylight and the reality of her world came buzzing to life with the vibrating comm dancing across the nightstand. He was already in the shower, humming to himself. While she’d love to take credit for his mood, he was a surprisingly cheerful man despite the work he did. Then again, because of the work he did, his cheerful demeanor might be what some doctors define as psychotic.
As she grabbed the device, already feeling the weight of the world settling back onto her shoulders, she noticed an alert flash across the screen about a recent heist involving a notorious villain with cunning planning tactics and elusive behavior. She knew him well and it didn’t surprise her the caption read ‘The Midnight Marauder Strikes Again’ - although she wasn’t sure why she was just receiving the message as this had happened three days ago. It's why they'd been battling yesterday. Was there more?
She was slipping on her flats and had almost made it to the door when she heard a voice from behind.
“You know you’re a superhero. You don’t have to use the front door.”
Crap. Cue the pleasant tone. “Yes, but this morning I’m just me. And Georgia Garner uses the front door.” She reached for the handle determined not to look back and see him standing there in nothing but a towel, or less.
“Not even a goodbye? Thanks James for the nice night? Let’s do this again sometime?”
“Bah.” She turned in defeat. So he wasn’t in a towel, but the black shirt and jeans clung to his body as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned so very James Dean-like against the door frame to the kitchen. “SEE.” She gestured to his body in a sweeping motion. “This is why I get in trouble and why you and I both know we will be doing it again sometime.”
A smile pulled at his lips. “Not if I get a girlfriend. Or send you to another planet.”
“You would like that wouldn’t you?”
“Having you as a girlfriend?" He shrugged. "Possibly.”
“What? No! I mean, heavens no. What would people say?”
“Quite probably nothing. They’ve never seen my face.”
He had a point.
“What I mean is that I bet you’d like it if you could send me to another planet.”
“And miss this witty banter with you Gigi?”
She wasn’t certain if she loved or hated that he knew and used her nickname.
“No. It would be much harder to do last night. Not impossible. But not as opportunistic.” His smile widened in amusement.
Her comm continued to buzz. “Jericho. Probably wants to know what the plan is for today.”
“You want to try it again?”
She paused, not totally sure she did. Last night he was so…so…not at all like the public portrays him to be. But that didn’t matter. It’s who he was. It's who she was. She squared her shoulders and stood a little straighter.
“It’s what the public expects of us. You’re the villain. I’m the superhero.”
As she exited his apartment, she laughed at the absurdity of it all. Of course, the nights she lets her guard down, she ends up spending it with the very villain she is supposed to be catching.