Jeepers! It's A Creeper! (Liz)

Elizabeth Sundance was not your average girl. She was scared of dying in a fire. She thought one ear was slightly larger than the other. She wore an excessive amount of wristbands to hide her wrists from anyone’s sight. She was born with a genetic anomaly that enabled her to become one with an animal’s emotions or transfer her mind into theirs. She had been kidnapped, held hostage, and scared out of her mind almost a dozen times in two years. She’d faced lion-men, killer deathworms, mobs of mutant-non-loving humans, and muggers with knives and unmarked vans.

But even she wasn’t prepared for what fate had placed in her path this time.

The guy was maybe four inches taller than her (that is to say, quite short). He had a scraggly goatee thing on his face, as if it was the first one he’d ever grown and never shaved it off. A volcano of a zit perched above his right eye, as if it would explode at any time and rip off half the guy’s face. His cheeks were pockmarked, most likely a result of terrible acne problems. His black hair was as greasy as his voice; Liz desperately hoped that was a result of product and not just a lack of proper hygiene.

He reeked of Axe. A skunk would’ve been overpowered. His halitosis still managed to announce itself, though. Based on that and the rectangular packet sticking out of his black, sagging, skinny jeans, Liz extrapolated that he was a smoker. A sleazy smile danced on his face, matched by a disgusting leer the dude had probably intended as a smoulder. The sleeves of his white-with-navy-vertical-stripes button-down shirt were rolled up, showing off a pathetic lack of muscle and what looked suspiciously like a temporary tattoo of a bleeding skull on his left bicep mass of bumpy skin.

Liz would’ve much preferred being held hostage by crazy gunmen or huddling in a burning church. At least then she had hopes of survival.

Even as he let off a repulsive string of what a perverted, alternate dimension would consider compliments, the guy attempted to nonchalantly lean forward and put his hand on the bookcase beside Elizabeth’s head, as if he were some cool, high school jock with his girlfriend. And if Liz hadn’t been so thoroughly disgusted, she probably would’ve started crying.

“Oh, uh, that’s nice,” the victim babbled, while still attempting to retain a modicrum of decency. “But, uh, you see, um....” What could she say? What would it take? Inspiration struck her and she went with it.

“I’m gay,” she said, pushing pride into her voice. “Like a rainbow with unicorns and flowers all over it in one big ol’ happy love fest.” Please, God, let this work. Oh please please please plea--

“Hey, that’s cool,” the creeper drawled. “I’m up for a little experimentin’.”

Horror flashed over Elizabeth’s face and she involuntary twisted a bit to the side, her hands coming up to cover her torso.

This guy was like a car wreck. No matter how horrible, tragic, and terrible it is, one still has to stop and stare at it. As horrified as she was, Elizabeth could not take her eyes away from the humanoid slime-mold attempting to come on to her. She could almost feel the scar tissue forming in her brain. Nightmares where undoubtedly going to plague her for years. She’d probably start screaming whenever she saw “cool” guys. Or just pass out whenever she saw a guy with hair gel.

This guy was kind of like Vietnam. When people would suddenly have flashbacks of their experiences there and feel like they were still there. They’d break out in sweat or suddenly dive or attempt to protect innocent bystanders from enemy fire that no longer existed. Liz was certain that one day, she was going to start having flashbacks to this moment. She’d remember the feeling of slime dripping into her soul and the feeling of being corrupted by such a pervasive creeper.

What kind of sick, desperate, perverted freak IS this guy?! To approach a random girl in a bookstore and attempt to allude to so many things with her when it was pretty obvious she wanted to do nothing better that sterilize him from the planet? Or fall into a black hole, rather than risk terminal contamination? Where were all the Hazmat suits when you really needed one? Alone in her personal torture chamber, boxed in by books and grime, Liz was about to resign her fate and was about to start praying when a voice broke through the nastiness surrounding her and called away the attention of Oil Slick.

A girl, no more than five years younger than her, charged up to the weirdo and began putting him in his place. With an obvious expression of sudden hope, Liz ducked underneath the arm and managed to slip out from the small space the Slime Man had corralled her into. Now she had access to fresh air and placed the guy between the two girls, preventing him from being able to focus all of his attention on either one. Because as glad as Liz was to escape his terrible attentions, she could not leave some poor, innocent girl to suffer the same fate.

And although the girl seemed capable of handling herself, things changed when Skunk-spray rounded on her. And although his particularly horrible and annoying response did not cow the girl, it seemed to have shaken her up. And it got Elizabeth’s blood pumping.

Okay, maybe she didn’t have it in her to even be rude to the guy when he was only creepily hitting on her, but Liz was certainly not going to stand for him berating a young girl with such rudeness and hostility. Acting as judge and jury, the blonde weighed the balance in her mind. Creeper? Check. Disgusting as all get out? Double-check. Downright mean and nasty? Oh, you’d better believe it.

A detached look of cool judgement masked Elizabeth’s face. Her eyes narrowed and she sized the creep up, noting his stance and weight shift. With his back to her, he would be unable to even see a bit of what she was doing, but the girl could probably see every bit of it. Liz glanced around, taking stock of her surroundings. Nobody was in sight, which was perfect for what she had in mind. She also just so happened to be in a reference section for pets and such, since she’d planned on buying a guide to taking care of parrots. And the beauty of that aisle was in the amount of heavy, heavy tomes within.

Selecting one such item from a shelf, she silently slid it from its slot and tested its weight in her hands. Deeming it acceptable, she gripped it with both hands, held it to the side of her head, and then struck the guy across the back of his head with all of her might. He let out a short squawk (not unlike a parrot) and started falling forward. But Liz wasn’t finished yet. Splaying her arms out for balance, she swung her booted foot up in a short, quick arc that connected at the junction between the guy’s legs, eliciting a mournful groan from the guy and changing the angle of his forward fall into a sudden vertical collapse.

“Sorry, but we’re not interested.”

Ignoring the pain in the creep’s voice, Elizabeth set the encyclopedia back on its shelf, just in time to hear the owner of the shop start asking around as to what occurred. With a glimmer of guilt over what she’d done (but only a glimmer; Grease Stain had totally deserved it) Liz was about to own up to what she’d done, but the younger girl had other plans. Allowing herself to be pulled along, Liz shortly joined the girl in a frantic sprint out of the shop and through the streets.

When finally they stopped, Liz imitated the other girl, leaning forward and supporting her hands on her knees, similarly gasping for breath. Oh man, she really needed to start jogging or something. Who knew when she’d need to do this again? “Heh, yeah,” she gasped, struggling to respond while simultaneously trying to breathe. “It was....wasn’t it. And...thanks.” She gave the girl a victorious grin before finally standing up straight.

The blonde pushed some hair out of her face, forcing it behind her ears and over her shoulders. Running through the windy streets of New York was terrible for fancy hairstyles. Fortunately, Liz hadn’t been wearing one, but it was annoying, just the same. She took a step away from the flow of people and leaned against the stone wall of a building, attempting to rest without having to sit down. The run was....exhilarating. That tinge of danger without any real repercussions. Kind of stress-relieving, actually.

After a few moments more, Liz finally managed to get her breathing down to a rate that could pass itself off as somewhat normal, despite the pounding of her heart. “Thanks for the save,” she told the younger girl. “That would’ve been a terrible fate, otherwise.” And no, she wasn’t talking about getting caught by the shop-owner. “And I didn’t catch your name. I’m Liz.” She wiped sweat off her hand before sticking it out in a merry gesture of greeting.

The brunette's--Alice’s--smile was infectious and Elizabeth quickly found herself mimicking her. The girl seemed to be a bright young thing, wild and exuberant and rascally as a squirrel, if her current and previous mannerisms were anything to go by. Liz had actually had personal experiences with squirrel mindsets before, so she was toying with the idea of treating Alice like one.

After all, she did seem pretty given to scoldings. The blonde’s lips quirked into a broader smile at the thought.

“It was my pleasure,” Liz responded, a flash of violent joy ablaze in her eyes. Self-satisfaction glinted off her pearly whites. “And it’s rather nice to meet you as well.” Already, Liz felt like there was a bond between them, like the kind that tended to form between people who all survived the same plane wreck.

“Yeah, it is a bit chilly out,” Liz replied amiably. Then she stopped and tilted her head a bit. “You know what? What would you say about some ice cream and then some hot chocolate? My treat,” the teen said, deciding she could simultaneously spurge, reward the girl’s bravery, and perhaps get a chance to possibly get to know her. It could never hurt making a new friend, especially in a city full of so many people like New York. And besides, who knew when she’d ever need help again in fending off a human garbage dump?

Fortunately, there just happened to be an ice cream shop within sight of them, and Liz knew there was a coffee shop around the corner, one that she frequented, that sold the best peppermint mochas and hot chocolate in the world. But ice cream sounded much better at the moment. With her mind made up and figuring that Alice would probably acquiesce (since what kid truly passes up the chance for free ice cream?) Liz started walking along towards the cross-walk. After all, jaywalking was bad and the ice cream place was on the other side of the street.

Elizabeth allowed herself a private smile at Alice’s eagerness. She could hear the younger girl keep pace by her as they plodded across the street and finally mingled in with the steady flow of pedestrians on their target sidewalk. Well, most people would assume they were mingling. Liz, at least, managed to somehow stay at least two feet from everybody. Even from the elderly-seeming woman slowly walking down the street. There would be no elbow rubbing for her. Just in case.

Now, Alice seemed like a pretty talkative girl. That made Liz’ smile stretch a bit more. A lively soul, so far Alice seemed like a pretty good person. And the conversation would go anywhere deep or--

Uh. Never mind. Oh, how am I going to answer this small child’s question? The first thing that had popped into her mind had been the exact title of the sister school, but if anybody knew about it (and quite a few people probably did) then that would imply that Liz was a mutant. And she didn’t want people knowing she was a mutant. If they did, they could turn on her, accuse her of dreadful things, and wound her deeply. Just like before. It was just easier to stay away from people. And not even touch them, in fact.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I live on campus at a gifted school just a bit away.” Oh great. Now she’s going to think I’m a stuck-up preppy snob. Why did I say “gifted”? Why didn’t I just say I lived at school? Or something else entirely. But it was too late to take her words back, and she had not been fortunate enough to have been born with time-manipulation abilities. Bummer.

“What about you? You live nearby?” That’s Liz, alright. Rapier wit and sly as a fox. And possibly deflecting the attention from her back to Alice a bit brusquely, perhaps. She also picked up a bit of speed, as Jen and Berry’s Ice Cream-A-Palooza came into view. ‘Twas a quaint old place, as one could tell by the exterior, but one could also feel the old, homely aura about the place.