You’d known, intellectually, that your heroic nemesis was a teenager, but it didn’t really sink in until the day their school called because your number was the only one on their emergency contact list.
Here’s the thing, okay?
I knew she was young. Like, obviously she was young. A mask and costume can only disguise so much, right? But I thought, for sure, college age. It’s hard to tell for sure through costumes and she wears a lot of padding and armor. (Very sensible, it’s a dangerous job.)
Still, I took it easy on her. No head blows, right? I also tried to avoid any joint injuries, because I suspected she was on a sports team. (Turns out she runs track.)
Like, sure, I’m a ‘villainess’ or whatever, but I’m not actually fuckin evil. I want what I want but I don’t actually want to maim some idealistic coed over it. Like, come on. Life is hard enough for young women. I know that.
And I got the sense that, for her, it was mostly for show as well. Sure, she thrashed the shit out of that fucker with the tentacles, but he was planning some sort of gory sacrifice, fair’s fair. Even as I went easy on her, I got the sense she was going easy on me, is my point. She pulled her blows.
But. You lose sponsorships if you just let the bad guy get away, you know, and college ain’t cheap. Right? So she’s gotta make a show of it.
So the newspaper called me her nemesis because we kept coming to blows, but mostly it was a show, and it was about 50/50.
I should have tracked her down. I made a promise to myself not to, you know? I felt like that was crossing a line. But now that I know… shit. I’m kicking myself. I could have known. But I was like, you know, a young woman, the last thing she needs is some creepy old lady stalking her. I should have, though.
Okay, so here’s what happened.