Chapter Text
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(Noise)
Noise. It’s all Kara ever heard now, noise. But not just that. She could hear them for blocks and blocks away. A dog whimpering for its food. A baby crying for their mother. The T.V. left on after a couple had gone to sleep. Kara could hear it all, and it was all too overwhelming. But she could focus it. She could focus in on everything that happened. She could hear the electricity run through the wires when she turned on the lights, she could hear the water, run through pipes three floors up. Or the heartbeat of her sister, one of only two heartbeats she had ever found peace. She heard the sirens that wailed late at night, the cries for help in the dark alley streets. She could hear her city dying, every night, a piece of it would fall away into the dark abyss that crime was laying out in National City.
And she tried to restrain herself. She tried with all her might. Her parents never wanted her to fight, they didn’t want their lives to be the life Kara lived. But then they died, and Kara was blind. No longer were they there to guide Kara on a safe and peaceful path. But Kara did everything she could to distract herself from the temptation to fight.
She became a reporter. She did everything she could to use sources and the truth to seek out justice and weed out the crime that riddled National City. She was lawful in her pursuit of peace. But this night…tonight it wasn’t enough. Tonight, she heard a cry for help, one she’d heard far too often. But this cry, this soft, desperate cry, one that begged for someone to hear.
“No Papa, please! Plea,” her plea for help was cut short by the back of a hand. Kara heard the impact. She could sense the argument was coming from two floors below. She could her the skin and bone shift from the strike, like ice cracking and melting away.
“You bitch, you think I’ll accept you for this, you…you, abomination,” the father screamed. Kara could hear the scared girl’s hear thunder in terror. The father’s hand slipped through the air with rough force, striking another blow. He stank of alcohol and cheap cigarettes, and Kara felt such a man to be unworthy of fatherhood.
“Please!! Don’t hurt me like Mama,” The girl cried again.
“SHUT UP!” His hand rose again, Kara could hear the bones shift, having gone through two very serious blows. But the girl tried to run, but the heavy footsteps of the father, footsteps that sounded like metal banging against a dumpster, were much quicker and he grabbed the child and threw her against the wall.
Kara formed fists, desperately wanting to do something. But, what would that mean for her parents, her parents who gave everything for Kara to only do good, to not fight, to use brains instead of brawn. Kara covered her ears, not wanting to her the young girls’ cries, or the slaps and punches the father was relentlessly giving, each one sounding like bubble wrap being popped by a child. Kara couldn’t take it. She fiddled around her pocket for her phone, running her hands over the screen waiting for the voice assist to get her to the keypad.
“9-1-1” the voice of Rao, her phone assistant that her friend invented to help her, voiced on the speaker, “Call.”
The number dialed and not but a ring later, a dispatcher responded, “911, what is your emergency?”
“Umm,” Kara paused through the tears, “There’s a father and daughter fighting, and, I’ve heard screaming and,” Kara paused again. She can’t very well say she heard everything that happened, she knew well enough that the screams could be heard through the building but, doing a quick check, she found that of the 24 apartments between the six floors, there were very few in the building, “I heard some crashing and glass breaking. And more yelling and…I’m, very worried.”
“What is your location ma’am?”
“1986 Miller Drive, apartment 227, I…don’t know which apartment the screaming is from.”
“Not to worry ma’am, we have officers on the way.”
Kara brings the phone away from her ear, as she ended the call. Now she had to wait. Wait as she knew she could do something, she should do something. But she can’t, she has to trust in the law. The law that is sworn to protect the city she loves. The law that she can hear failing more and more each day.
“PAPA! STOP!!” Kara heard the girl scream again. Kara had tears flowing from her eyes. She needs to do something, she has to do something.
Kara sat there for a few more minutes, aching to help, but knowing she shouldn’t in risking exposing her abilities. But just in time, a knock came to the door. She tuned to two heartbeats, steady, strong. She could smell the pepper spray on their belts, the gunpowder in the bullets of guns, one of the cops, a rather portly fellow, smelled of cheap coffee. *knock knock*
The father stops his punches. “Who is it?” His voice bellows through the apartment.
The other officer, he smelled of cheap cologne, “NCPD, sir please open up.”
“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. “You say anything and I swear you’ll regret it.” He threatens. His heartbeat is steady, he means it. The girl’s heartbeat is rapid, scared, no…she’s terrified.
“I wish I could run away,” it’s so quiet, Kara barely registers it. The heavy footsteps of the father make for the door. He unhooks the chain and opens the door.
“Can I help you officers?” The father’s tone changes scarily quickly. He actually sounds polite.
“We got a call about screaming, is everything alright sir?”
“Oh, sorry, my daughter, she… she got hit at school today. I might have let my temper go a little bit. No one touches my daughter.”
The heartbeats of the officers are steady, calm…they believe him. “Is she home now?”
“Jessica,” the father calls. Jessica, her heart beats faster and faster as she walks to the door. The father placed his hands on Jessica’s shoulders.
“Hello Jessica,” one of the officers greets in a friendly voice, “is it true, were you hit at school today?”
Kara could hear the grip tighten on the little girl’s shoulders. She could hear crying. “Yes, a boy, Brian. He…he hit me.” Kara’s heart broke for the young girl.
“Oh, I’m so sorry about that,” the other officer consoled.
“It’s been difficult lately, her mother is in the hospital, some idiot wanted her purse and she was beat up.”
“Well I hope everything turns out for the better, just try to keep your temper in check sir.” The officer that smelled like cheap cologne responded. ”Let’s get outta here Stevens.”
The officers walk off as the door closed behind them. “I hate kids,” both officers said under their breath.
“Worthless,” Kara muttered. She tunes back to the father and daughter.
“You, get to your room and I swear if you make a single peep, I will make it worse for you.”
That was it…Kara snapped. How dare a father lay a hand against his daughter just for loving someone else? She cried as she heard the father do unspeakable things to his daughter. Kara HAD to do something.
So, she waited, she waited and soon she heard the father leave the apartment. Kara scrambled to find sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She tore up a black t shirt and stuffed the scraps into the hoodie pocket. She pulled the hoodie up over her head and exited her apartment. It’s good that at her eyes have kept their bright blue color over the years, for it will make it easier to blend in.
Kara can’t see, not really, but she can fake it well enough to make it if she wasn’t. She prepared herself as she exited her apartment, making sure to stay far enough behind the father as to not raise much suspicion. She could smell his alcoholic stench. He was no more than 30 feet away. His steps were uneven from drinking. Kara had no sympathy for this man. A man who cast away his own daughter, simply because she chose to love someone different. It’s not right. A parent’s job is to love their child, unconditionally, no matter what. Not to make their child terrified of their very presence.
While Kara hadn’t had her parents in years, they were killed in the same car accident that gave Kara her powers at just nine years old, her adoptive parents, Eliza and Jeremiah, they were nothing if not accepting. Her sister Alex was the perfect example. Alex was terrified of coming out to Eliza, but Kara had reassured her that everything would be okay, and thank God it was. Because Alex now had Sam, her beautiful wife, well with the way Alex described her, same was truly beautiful, loving wife and her daughter Ruby. Kara could not recall a happier Alex Danvers. And Kara loved Alex, and loved Sam and Ruby, and loved that they were happy.
Kara wished for something like that someday. Someday, maybe she could trust someone enough to entrust them with her secret, but…the less people knew the better. Kara hadn’t even told Alex. It’s all for her safety. Alex knows Kara’s senses are heightened, very heightened. But Alex doesn’t know Kara can fight. That part she learned from her cousin, Clark, blind like her, well not exactly like her as he was blind since birth. He swooped in and saved her from the orphanage, taught her to fight, taught her to fight hard. Then he abandoned her, left her to the Danvers, at thirteen, just when she needed him the most. But Kara supposes it was all for the better because she and Alex grew close soon after. Granted they had a rocky relationship at the start, but many sibling relationships are like that. And Kara was content having Alex, Sam, and Ruby in her life, but it never stopped her from thinking, was there someone out there for her? There had to be right?
Well, no time to worry about that now, as the father turned into an alleyway that lead to docks. Perfect, Kara thinks. She gathers her senses and feels a fire escape nearby. She grabs hold of the stairs and hoists herself up before anyone nearby notices. She sleuths towards the edge of the building and feels the sea air fill her lungs, the cool ocean breeze prickling against her skin like a feather, smelling the salt and fish stink up the docks. Egh, I could really go for some potstickers right now. Kara dismisses the thought. The father enters the port, not bothering to check in with the security officer. Kara tunes in, he’s…sleeping, so much for security. But that’s a good thing, it’s one less person to worry about interfering with her mission. Kara can hear the steps become more and more uneven, becoming more wasted as the night goes on. Kara feels the temptation burning hotter as she gets closer to the man. She needs to be smart about this. While beating him to a pulp would be rather satisfying, it won’t help Jessica to just put her father in a hospital. She needs to get him to confess to what he did to his child, proof for the mother and the courts, so that this disgusting filth will never see them again.
She hears him turn a corner around some crates. They’re filled with various commodities, one has Blu-ray players, TVs, and other various electronics. Some are filled with toys, gifts for children like Jessica, and one is filled with weapons, and it isn’t a military crate. The crates are covered with, Kara sniffs, coffee grounds, throws off the dogs. This is her moment, she takes the black strip of cloth from her torn up t-shirt and wraps it around her head, covering the top of her head down to her nose. She needs to make sure this is recorded, she thanks God that her phone is in her pocket. It has become a part of her. It’s not that she’s addicted to her phone, she barely uses it, but the assistant her best friend Winn installed on it has become such a helpful tool in her daily life.
She fiddles with the screen, finding the record button for video. It’s not that she wants to record her movements or the fight, but the audio, that file could help in court. Even if what she is about to is illegal, it will show the police what an asshole this father is. She sets the phone down on the crate above the father and jumps down. His heart jumps, startled at the sudden presence of another person.
He reacts, swinging the beer bottle at Kara who dodges it with ease, sensing the wind through the glass in the air. He gets all twisted up, nearly falling to the ground. But Kara steadies him, only to push him against the crate with enough force for him to drop the bottle. But he doesn’t surrender, he lifts his knee to jab Kara’s stomach, but she senses this and tilts to the side. She throws a left cross to his jaw in return. Kara hears the bones shift and crack from the force of the hit, she’s fractured. He wails in agony but powers through it to throw a punch of which Kara dodges easily. She catches his fist in her hand and stops it. Gripping his wrist with her free hand, she twists it, effectively breaking his right wrist. And if he wasn’t screaming before, he is now. The weight of the pain floors him against the crate. But Kara doesn’t relent. She grabs his collar and pulls him up so he’s facing her covered eyes.
“You’re going to confess to what you’ve done to your daughter,” she seethes in the most menacing voice she can attempt.
He spits at her, missing her face as Kara shifts her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Kara punches his nose, “LIE TO ME, I WILL KNOW! I will be unhappy.”
“I never,”
Another punch, “This is what unhappy feels like.”
“I swear I,”
Kara doesn’t let up, kicking down on his ankle, fracturing it. She keeps her foot down as he cries in pain.
“OKAY! I hit that bitch…she comes out to me…and, I lost it. But she deserved it. I ain’t got no room for a lesbian in my family.” He continues his story of what he did to her after the cops left.
Kara is enraged. She throws a fist in his face once again.
“Ow…JESUS FUCK!! I was telling the truth.”
“I know, but I never said I’d be happy about it,” Kara hits him again, “You’re going to turn yourself in to the first cop you see. Try to run, you’re going to wish I’d beaten down on you more. Lie to them, you’re going to wish you never existed.”
She then let’s all her rage out, throwing punch after punch, not stopping even when he fell unconscious, no, she kept hitting until her fists hurt.
But she relented when she felt the bruises on her knuckles. Perhaps she…no, she was too violent. But to Kara, this man didn’t even receive half of what he deserves, maybe…he should be dead. NO! Kara chastises herself. She mustn’t cross that line. She can’t. She won’t. But she can feel the Devil pulling at her, imploring her to finish it. But she takes a deep breath and stands up, blood dripping away from her hands.
She leaves the unconscious filth lying there, to either be found by the authorities or to wake up in time. And that might be a while. She turns to the crate, where she can smell the clean metal and gunpowder, covered by the scent of coffee grounds. She runs her hands over the door of the crate, seeking the lock to open it. She found it, a combination lock. She cautiously spun the dial, listening closely for the mechanisms to match up.
“04-19-64,” Kara muttered as she found the numbers. She tossed the lock aside and opened the crate. After being locked up for days, five at least Kara thinks, the stiff air fills up her lungs as the door allows the cool sea air to be filtered in. Kara walks in, and opens the first crate on her right. She lifts up the tray the holds the coffee grounds and puts it aside, revealing an ample amount of weapons. She can sense the cleanliness of them, never before fired, fresh oil that greased the barrels, authenticating their new quality. She ran her hands over the metal, “Assault rifles,” Kara says, realizing what kind of weapons they are. “These need to be taken off the streets.” She exits the crate and jumps back up on top, retrieving her phone and ending the recording. It might not be able to do much, but it’ll help Jessica and hopefully her mother will be able to get them free from the clutches of this disgusting man.
Kara calls the police, and leaves an anonymous tip about the guns hoping they would arrive to get them before whichever gang who owned them picked them up. She waited not but five minutes when a group of men showed up, reeking of cigarettes and beer. She could smell ink, lots of it, tattoos, gang tattoos most likely. They gathered around the open crate, and stared at the unconscious father.
“Jesus Christ, look at that shit,” says one of the gang members. “Looks like he’s been through the fucking grinder. His face is FUBAR.”
“Maybe we oughta put him out of his misery,” another member said, cocking the hammer of his pistol. Kara was about to jump down when another member stopped him.
“Easy, let him be asshole, we don’t need no cops on us for a random killin’.”
“Whatever EZ.”
Another man now spoke, his heartbeat was steady, strong, possibly the man in charge. “Will you assholes shut the fuck up?! I want to know why the fuck our crate is busted open.”
His voice was smooth, steady, but angry. None of the men answered.
“Which one of you was supposed to be on duty,” he asked. The four other heartbeats went cold, scared.
And then Kara missed it, the split second reaction she should have had. She should have sensed it, the gun, but this man, he was fast, very fast. And he was fast enough that he pulled out his pistol and shot one of his men. They slumped to the ground, lifeless, against the unconscious body of the father.
Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Kara’s mind raced. This has gotten out of hand too fast. She had to stop this, or at least keep them busy until the cops arrive. Kara made her decision then and there. Let’s fight.
She jumped down, landing herself on top of the man in charge, kicking the gun from his hand. She wrapped her legs around his head and leaned forward and flipped, landing him against the ground, he’s out. She heard one of the other guys raise their gun, Kara tunes in, he’s just about to cock his gun. She jumps up and twirls around, kicking up the other gun, knocking in the air, on top of another crate. SHING that’s a knife, Kara senses. She spins around to the man holding the knife, it’s coming towards her, 30° angle. She catches the wrist holding the knife and snaps it up. She smells the blood spurt out, she’s broken it. He cries in pain, cradling his wrist, that’s a mistake. He should have kept his guard up, Kara swings a right cross to his face, her strike connects with force, knocking him to the ground. That’s two out, two to go.
The other two are standing motionless, no weapons drawn, but she can hear the metal of a gun clink against a lighter in a coat pocket, and she can smell the faint oil that was used to sharpen a blade in another. His hand goes for the knife, Kara falls to the ground, swiping her feet against his ankles, causing them to give away to the rest of his body. He hits the ground hard, but he’s still awake. Kara spins again, kicking him square in the face. Now he’s out, she thinks as she stands to face the last guy.
“What the fuck are you,” he asks. His heart is racing, he’s…Kara tilts her head so she could can a better tune to his heart; he’s terrified. Kara smirks a devilish smile. She says nothing, she only front flips, her right foot making contact with the last man's jaw. It’s broken, she can hear the bones crack from the impact. He crouches down, wailing in an incoherent sob.
Sirens start blaring in the distance, the cops are here, and I need to not be, Kara thinks. She finds the unconscious mass of a body that is the man in charge and tries to find his phone. But the cops get closer and closer, and she hasn’t found it yet. Screw it, she thinks to herself as she jumps back up to the top of the crate.
She hurried back to her apartment, flinging herself from rooftop to rooftop, her heart still racing from her encounter. Oh God did it feel good to do something good. It had been years since she felt useful. Ever since her abilities, she felt that she should use them. And after her cousin trained her to fight, she knew she should do something for good. But Kara was at odds, with what her parents wanted for her verse what Clark told her she could do. She had helped someone, she saved a little girl from having to live under the guise of someone so twisted. She’d helped a mother, she can raise her child without the fear of what her husband would do. Kara had done good.
She gets back to her apartment, climbing through her bedroom window via the fire escape and makes for her kitchen, she needs water. She fetches a glass from the cupboard and fills it with cold tap water. She gulps the cold liquid, thirsty from her fight. She chokes a bit as she finishes the glass. She sinks to the floor, catching her breath.
“Holy shit,” she whispers. What did I just do, Kara’s mind races in a panicked fright. She just took out four gang members after beating down on an asshole of the father. She thought of the recording on her phone. She called out to her phone, “Rao, play my most recent recording.”
“Playing last video Ms. Danvers,” the robotic voice said with a cool British accent. Kara rolled her eyes, thinking back how excited Winn was to create an A.I. for her.
Her recording wasn’t of the highest quality, but the sound that came through, it was proof enough. The recording picked up the father’s entire confession.
This will help the Jessica and her mother, but how, Kara thought. She can’t give this video to the police, it would be too risky, it could expose Kara and possibly to more harm than good.
“CATCO,” Kara says out of the blue. She’s a reporter, and if she could expose this man, thousands will see it and possibly help. Others who are afraid of those who hurt them, maybe…just maybe they’ll stand up. “Rao, can you send an encrypted email,” Kara asked. She truly was unsure if her Rao, Reliable Assistant Operator, as Winn put it, could help with that. When Kara asked one time, Winn jokingly said that Rao can help with almost anything. But, over the months, Kara has found that it can do quite a bit.
“And to whom are we sending this email?”
“Um, me, my CatCo email.”
“Starting a story, are we?”
“Hopefully.”
“Very well Ma’am.” And with that the email was sent to Kara anonymously, and she would report to work tomorrow, hopefully with a story that Snapper would approve of. She placed her phone aside, and turned to her room. She smelled of the sea air and alcohol, she desperately needed a shower. She slowly made her way to her shower, sore from her fight, despite not being hit once. No, the only sore part of her body were her fists, the fists that were bruised and bloody from fiercely hitting the father and the gang members. She turned the dial as hot as it could go and let the water heat up as she stripped out of the clothes. The sweatshirt was torn in a few places where Kara barely dodged a few of the knife attacks. She ran her hands over the torn fabric and thanked God that in her haste to get out of her apartment to follow the father that she grabbed a plain sweatshirt. No identifying marks or logos. She tossed the torn sweatshirt aside and stepping in the steaming water. She sighed heavily as the water hit her skin, 106°, Kara felt the water and steam around her heat her skin, wiping away the blood from her knuckles. Kara put her knuckles directly under the stream of water, and she flinched as the hot liquid pierced through the bruises. But she kept her fists in place, until she felt all the blood and small scraps of skin wiped away. That was foolish to go bare handed, Kara thought as the water dripped down her chest. She turned her back so that stream of water could hit the back of her neck, just at the crook of her left shoulder. She groaned at relieving feeling it provided. She stood frozen in that position for a few minutes, washing away the smell and the intensity of the encounter. She wanted to do this again, wanted to fight, to help. But, she shouldn’t, it’s too risky. If she were to get captured or caught, or worse, she couldn’t do that to Alex and Sam or Ruby. She couldn’t do that to Eliza, James or Winn. That didn’t deserve that.
And that thought stayed with her as she exited the shower and dried herself off. She so badly wanted to continue this. It, it was exhilarating. It was, fun. It had been so long since she moved about like that and God did she miss it. It was so conflicting, Kara can fight, she can help people, but not without putting herself, and her sister and her family at risk.
Kara downed to Aspirin and snuggled herself under the covers of her bed as her thoughts bounced back and forth on whether or not she should fight.