Elizabeth Silver

She'd been wandering for days, the food in her bags nearly empty. Having overheard her stepfather making plans to bind her to that old goat-looking noble in Great Town had her plotting her revenge for hours that night. Not even a real wife, she was to be second-spouse, lower stature, practically a mistress. Almost a servant, but she wouldn't even have the protection a servant would have had. She wouldn't have been paid like a servant, wouldn't have had protection from his fists or his whip or his men like a servant would have. No she would have had to submit both her body to his rutting and all her worldly goods to his coffers without word or whisper of complaint. All because she was legally a spouse.

Second-spouse, my ass" She had muttered to herself, packing away her mother's jewelry, her heaviest cloak, and her sturdiest clothes and boots. An earring here, to a servant girl to look the other way as Lisabet snuck down the back stairs and out of the building. A brooch there to the boy who took care of the horses, as together they got her settled on her mother's filly, a fine black steed with white marks on her forelegs. She would have given another earring to the cook, but the food came free with a hug and a pinched cheek from the woman who had known Liz since she'd been a babe.

And then she'd ridden, deep in the night while her stepfather was away to the village with some of his men, enjoying the money her family had earned, the money her mother's inheritance had given him. Her poor mother, dead only six months. Was it childbirth, or was it his fists that had brought her low? Lizabet had been away when her mother died, and only now the rumors of her mother's death were truly coming to light.

Fortunately she'd found a brook to travel beside, so water wasn't an issue. And that's where she was, huddled on a rock next to her horse with the reins in her hand and dragging her waterskin to fill it up again, when she thought she heard a noise. Liz looked up warily at the think green forest around her, saw nothing, then looked again. Was someone there?

Cranking the tunes in her boss's car.

I'm back. No one can keep me down. No one.

"Holy...!"  Liz sat back, away from the library computer screen and glanced furtively to the left and right.  Good, no one seemed to hear or care about her verbal outburst.  With another look around the room and a swift look up at the clock, the teen pulled her chair closer to the computer screen to view the online photo and read the words beneath it.  <lj-cut>

Yes, that was him alright.  Warren Peace.  Son of Baron Battle himself, and hadn't Liz heard some of Tony's people mention that name once or twice a long time ago?  Baron Battle's son.  Well, when he said his father was in the slammer, he was right about that.  Three consecutive life sentences, damn. 

Son of a master villain and a "A super hero  Of course, this just keeps getting better and better."  Great, just great.  So, did he take after his father or his mother?  By the sound their conversations together, he might have taken after his mom more than his dad, but she couldn't be sure.  "So where does that put me?"  She continued to read, and then began doing research into Warren's fathers' history as well.

Shit.  Liz closed the window, and deleted the recent history, wiping the computer clean of any passwords, cookies and pages she'd opened in her search, then wiping the keyboard and screen clean of her fingerprints with a tissue.  Maybe she could tell him that she wasn't feeling well tonight, make an excuse for him not to come over.  He'd been doing that lately, coming in for early morning coffee or late night talk. 

'I can't tell him the truth' she thought to herself, gathering up her notebooks and making certain her area was clean before heading out the library door.  'What the hell do I say?  No Warren, it's not the fact that your dad's a villain and a murderer that has me scared.  It's the fact that your mom's a superhero.  Superheroes do superhero stuff like catching badguys.  Badguys like casino and museum thieves.  Like me.'

"But that isn't exactly fair to him."  Or her either for that matter.  He was someone she was actually growing to like.  A real man - boy - guy her own age who liked her just for who she was, or rather, who she tried to be.  And it was easier actually, having him around.  She didn't get the urge to go out and test herself against security systems , didn't get that itch for an illegal adrenaline rush by pitting herself against bank safeguards or PTZ infrared cameras, security guards.  She actually enjoyed simply being normal for a change.  Enjoyed being with him.  

'What the hell do I do?' she tried to come up with an answer as she strolled home in the early evening light.  Confessing was out of the question. 

Best bet?  Do nothing for now, except for watch and be aware.  Hero or villain, Warren just made her life a whole hell of a lot more complicated.  'I knew he was trouble when he was standing outside my door.  Knew he was trouble when he was standing in my living room in that tight leather jacket.  I knew it, and I knew it, and what the hell am I going to do now?