She’s thrown through a wall–one, two, three–comes to a rolling, tumbling stop against the crumpled steel of a dumpster.
She groans, body shrieking in pain–her floating ribs are probably broken, shit, and her vision is hazy with a definite concussion–but at least she’s still alive. Her armor has held up well: TenTen is definitely getting a raise.
A roar sounds through the streets, reverberating and ominous, straight out of her childhood nightmares of monsters under her bed.
What she wouldn’t give to be asleep in her bed right now.
Shikako coughs, brick dust and rubble in the air, ribs protesting angrily. She steels herself. Flipping onto her hands and knees nearly makes her weep.
She can’t do this.
Human criminals are one thing–she’s better trained and better equipped than anyone on the street–but creatures of this size? Rogues with superhuman abilities? Magic and other things beyond the laws of physics?
She can’t do this alone.
An extraterrestrial object crashes into Konoha’s Central Park during an R&D presentation to the board–Shikako’s presence is mandatory no matter how many wide-eyed looks of panic she exchanges with TenTen.
And so when the alien emerges, blindfolded and shackled but rampaging madly, it’s not The Dark Knight that makes first contact, but a graffiti artist on the run from the cops.
A graffiti artist that also happens to be a demigod.
By the time the presentation is over–rushed through as quickly as possible, but still far too long–the rampage turned battle has expanded to downtown Konoha.
Shikako arrives on scene and curses, futilely: there are news cameras–stupid and brave–and a ring of police cars–less stupid, but braver–lights spinning a dizzying red and blue.
Most of her power comes from reputation, the growing rumors of an urban legend that haunts the nights and minds of criminals. This is so public, too public, out in the bright glaring sunshine.
The officers that spot her, rumbling motorcycle engine loud and impatient, face their weapons her way for a moment. The Dark Knight, after all, is still a wanted vigilante–one that has caused conflicting opinions within the force. But their captain is quick to brush them off, in part for her benefit, but mostly for theirs.
“I hope you have better firepower than we do,” the captain says, opening up the barrier with a wave, “Because both of them are bulletproof.”
She does, but that’s not what is going to resolve this.
She goes through, prepared to enter the fray even if it means surrounding herself by people who want to throw her in prison, because maybe there’s a way to salvage this situation.
A/N: … I didn’t get to the actual relationship so much as it is the set up to it? Sorry, anon…
Also I did try to write a third section to this but it didn’t fit so well and I already felt like this was taking too long so there’s a paragraph under the cut. I may use that eventually if I write more Insuperable, but so I don’t lose it I’ll just hide it here.
[If anyone else wants to do a softer world prompt that isn’t on the list, you can just send the page id number for the original comic instead.]
The walls of their headquarters are covered in paint. Vibrant swirling colors and symbols that don’t match any living language. Naruto sees these shapes in his dreams, grasping at images that evaporate during his waking hours.
He is desperate for any hint of his past.
Sasuke wishes he could forget his own.