Flick Knife

Sarah walked out of the supermarket, her two bags-for-life full of fairtrade produce and Innocent smoothies. It was very quiet outside.

Sarah liked shopping late in the evening. It meant not having to compete with heavy traffic – very handy, since she only had a bicycle.

It was actually quiter than usual today. Not a single car in the car park, and nobody on the pavement nearby. Weird.

And then she heard a sound. A hissing sound, coming from the direction of the garage. She walked towards the sound to investigate.

She turned the corner, and gasped. The garage was a wreck. All the windows smashed, shelves on the inside thrown all over the place, the newspaper stand outside in pieces. She looked around, searching for any signs of life.

There. By the air compressor – which was also in a poor shape. A shape. A figure, lying on the ground, dressed in a pale green outfit.

Sarah approached slowly. The figure tried to say something.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Run," croaked the figure.

Suddenly, another figure appeared nearby. A slim man in a silver tracksuit, with elbow- and knee-straps covered in blades.

"You want to play hero too?" asked the figure. "Didn't run away with the other civilians?"

"What did you do?" asked Sarah, keeping her voice level.

"All of it," said the figure softly, indicating the wreckage. "Our friend Lunar Mist here tried to stop me. But he's far, far too late."

Sarah looked around incredulously. How on earth could one man commit all of this?

"Take a good look, love," said the figure. "This is my city now. It all belongs to me – Flick Knife."

Exposition? thought Sarah. This guy was clearly a symptom of the modern superhero fad.

"So, for starters," said the man named Flick Knife. "Let's take care of our mutual friend." He looked towards the groaning Lunar Mist. He lifted his right hand, and a long blade slid from a mechanism on his wrist. "We'll start by finding out who he really is."

Sarah barely clocked Flick Knife's evident fondness for secret identities, before moving calmly between him and Lunar Mist.

"What are you doing?" asked Flick Knife, danger in his voice.

"I think you'll do it," said Sarah. "I think you'll readily kill this man. But I'm not letting you get a Supervillain Kills Superhero headline. You'll have to kill me first. And we'll see how THAT looks in the papers."

Flick Knife paused.

"Dangerous," he said. "You're assuming I'm a comics fan." He lifted his wrist-blade again. "I'm not. I'm a psychopath."

He slashed the knife dangerously.

Sarah kicked upwards, her walking boot colliding with Flick Knife's jaw.

"And you're assuming I'm cannon fodder."

As Flick Knife reached automatically for his jaw, Sarah punched him in the chest, hooked her leg around his, and pulled. Flick Knife fell to the floor.

Lunar Mist pushed himself up from the ground, nursing his ribcage.

Sarah stood over Flick Knife, gauging his likelyhood of getting up again.

"You have weapons," she said. "But you're still human."

Secretly, Sarah liked playing the superhero.

-10001-

"I can't believe it," said Dave, reading the paper during the tea break. "You actually stopped a proper supervillain."

"Don't call him that," scoffed Sarah. "As soon as you acknowledge these people's attempts at being cool, you encourage more of it."

"Still," said Angharad. "They've got a photo of you with Lunar Mist."

"Which means someone else was around and didn't bother to help," said Sarah. "It's sickening."

"I suppose nobody thinks to help superheroes," said Dave.

"He was flat-out on the floor!" said Sarah.

"I didn't mean Lunar Mist," said Dave, before having a balled-up piece of paper thrown at him.