Skylar O’shaughnessy was currently hesitating. It was a situation the Boston native, and daughter of a tough street smart beat cop, had never found herself in before. The youngest of five and the only girl among them, Skylar had learned to be tougher than her older brothers even before the emergence of her super abilities; she had to to survive (ask any girl with four older brothers). After her powers emerged and she started growing, it was clear she had only one choice and that was to become tougher still. The thing about power, especially in rough neighborhoods, is that there is always someone wanting to make use of it, and if you aren’t of a mind to allow them then they want that power out of their sandbox. Skylar could deal with a straight up fight; she’d been in more than a few. But this situation was completely outside her comfort zone.
Being a six foot two busty red head was attention grabbing, but her natural physique was very Sports Illuminated swim suit edition. Right down to mile long legs, high and tight bottom, and full g-cup (though on her scaled up frame, they looked more like full D’s). It didn’t bother her when guys drooled over her, she liked guys drooling over her, since it made them easier to manage for the most part. Back home everyone knew that, unless specifically invited, crossing certain lines would bring pain. She liked her men strong, confident, and most of all respectful. These beered up baboons were none of the above. The false confidence they were projecting, prompted by a mob mentality and liquid courage, turned Skylar’s stomach.
The four men, juniors if she had gauged their ages right, had lit on to the fact that yes, she was six foot two; yes, she possessed large breasts; yes, she had long ivory legs; and yes, even a bottom that most Brazilians would envy. But what really seemed to piss them off was that she was a “fake” super. She wasn’t, she was the real deal, nothing on or about her was fake thank you very frigging much. Her hair when it grew out had naturally occurring metallic gold tips the length of which was proportional to the length of her hair. That, coupled with a fiery red color with natural copper highlights, made it striking. More striking still, she currently had it cut in ragged layers giving it a sheet of flame look. The other oddity that she didn’t think the goons had noticed was her eyes, while hazel, were metallic so much so that her iris would glint at night if the light was right. The oddities of hair and eyes and even some variant types of skin and skin conditions were well documented in the Super world. So well in fact that an entire fashion look was predicated on emulating the various oddities. Which was the reason for the showy hair cut; if she looked to be affecting a look people would think it was an affectation. If she tried to hide her hair and eyes people would know from the word go she was a super. Strange but true.
Some people thought it was others trying to make themselves special, that being human wasn’t good enough for them. That they thought the variant-humans were better than them. That jealousy lead to anger and resentment. Couple that with the fact that each one of these goobers had probably been sat down hard at some point when they got too grabby with a female super, and it wasn’t surprising that the pent up frustration came out like this. She understood and even empathized a little it didn’t mean she liked being called a poser by these dicks.
None of that understanding was helping Skylar with her current predicament. Skylar wasn’t in the HCP, she had applied and been put on a waiting list and encouraged to proceed with her cover major at L.U.. Implied in her waiting list letter was that she just needed to be a little stronger, that they didn’t want to lose her to another program. After all a potentially famous alumni usually meant attention, which meant more famous and possibly wealthier alumni, maybe even generous wealthy alumni. But while at L.U. she would still expected be discreet and comport herself in the tradition of maintaining a secret identity.
So no flaunting her super status by pounding these d-bags into monkey-paste. It was growing more difficult to show restraint with each passing moment as currently they were taking turns grabbing at her bottom displayed in her compression shorts. The extra snug custom made support sports bra, and tight compression shorts, were not essential to her running exercises, but they did offer large amounts of comfort. The only trouble was her warm up jog through town to get to her secluded exercise spot away from prying eyes, where she could run flat out without drawing attention. Since she had to hoof it without a car. She COULD run flat out at one of the university jogging trails or at one of the tracks, but a six foot two red head going flat out at thirty-five to forty miles per hour for oh fifty or sixty miles would break that precious secret identity rule all to hell. All of which meant she didn’t have a locker room, or a place to change, or even a training partner. The hero life she wanted to live required hard, serious, near religious devotion to strict training methods. And these a-holes were trying to ruin it for her, trying to ruin her dream before it even started.
She could fight them and put them down with force equal to that of human normal. After all the one upside to growing up with bratty alpha male brothers was she learned how to control her strength extremely well, after all they were still alive. But if she beat the ass of these obviously, at least to her, insecure dicks they’d do one of two things; sober up and make trouble for her or sober up and complain to someone else to make trouble for her. Either of which would escalate her problems to the next level, she needed deescalation. Even blowing them away with just enough speed to out run them might cause it. If Skylar was being honest and objective her fear of being unmasked, figuratively speaking, was overpowering her good sense. The university even knowing she was a super would cover for her defending herself, within reason, if it was a clear case of sexual assault. But like a lot of would be heroes she was slightly irrational with the fear of loosing her potential slot next semester, and it stayed her hand.
“Oh come on bubble-butt,” One of the men sneered. “Don’t you wanna play with us?” He made a gross grab at his junk. Bubble-butt, just the pet name to sweep a girl off her feet. That was right up there with sweet-tities which some other shit had yelled at her last summer from a passing car.
“We just want to party Jugz, surely you aren’t too good for regular vanilla humans right?” Scuzball number two swatted her on the butt. Jugz? Oh hell no..
“Of course she thinks she is, with that hair. Shes a super-groupie. Bet she’d spread those mile long legs if we could shoot fire at our asses or some such nonsense.” Another said splashing beer out of his bottle towards her. Not even if you were Titan’s better looking straight twin with a pocket full of diamonds and chocolate..
“We could enlighten her to what REAL men could do for her..” said the fourth..
And I could enlighten you to what a real woman could do to your squishy-vanilla-soft-serve asses. Skylar thought, inches away from a drastic overreaction of breaking news proportions. She was a red head after all, there were limits. Just as she made her decision to show them the magnitude of their mistake, Skylar heard a dark mind approaching. If these guys knew what was coming they’d piss themselves, apologize, and run like hell; in that order. Hell, Skylar wasn’t sure she didn’t want to run too.
The tall dark stranger approached the first goon from behind, they didn’t even realize he was there. He didn’t say stop or back off, or hell even boo. He just drew his foot up delivered a full force kick right to the first guys balls from behind. Skylar heard the cartilage in the pelvis break, but even before the guy went down her rescuer had an overhand right connecting with the side of the second douche’s head, and then he went down faster than a drunken prom queen. The third guy had just about enough time to drop his beer and get an angry “What the fuc..” when the mystery man smashed an elbow into the mans orbital bone before delivering a near skull crushing knee to the mans chin as he went down and out. The fourth guy started to turn to run but her hero whipped her tall frame across his body out of his way so he could deliver a looping round house kick to the side of the mans head to make a complete matching set of douche bags on the ground.
Skylar was impressed, it couldn’t of been more than ten or fifteen seconds from first blow to last. The man had dirty fighting down pretty solid. She turned from the downed men with a look of a person appreciating the work of an artist to find him walking rapidly away. What the hell? Skylar thought, as she trotted up behind him intending to thank him properly.
“Wait up, let a woman than..” She was going to say thank you properly but he cut her off, hard..
“Listen lady you want to thank me? Next time deal with that shit yourself..” His voice was rough, deep, and had a the slow draw from somewhere in the deep south. But clearly he was no gentleman.
“I’m sorry?” She asked perplexed..
“No fewer than six times did I see you tense or shift position slightly but perfectly to put those meat-puppets down. Which tells me you could of done it anytime your little ole heart desired. Next time lady you are on your own, because that was my ever loving last bit of stupid.” He stormed off and left a speechless Skylar gaping at him. Was it odd that she found his forceful beating, and subsequent rant putting her in her place kind of hot? He shouted back over his shoulder, “Oh and run in the morning with friends for fuck’s sake..”
He was right, Skylar could of done everything he said except for train with friends. If she’d been paying closer attention, and not ogling the angry mans backside as he walked off, she might of heard another mind paying close attention to the fight. But she was too wrapped up in her confusion over the stranger and her desire to know more about him.