Interlude 6A – Raindrop (Summus Proelium)

Previous Chapter                               Next Chapter

It was almost two o’clock in the morning when a small, clearly very young girl in a hooded windbreaker walked through an alley beside a fast food joint. Izzy Amor, publically known as Raindrop, was practically dead on her feet. She was so tired by that point that she could barely keep her eyes open as she all-but stumbled down the alley. She had just spent the past several hours helping to clear up the fires at the hospital, and then hanging around while the bomb squad people made sure there were no more explosives that might go off. There weren’t, but the bomb guys had to be really thorough, which meant Izzy and the others sat around for hours.

Now that it was all over, Izzy was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to even summon a little rain cloud in her hand. Just the idea of using her power any time soon made the twelve-year old feel kind of nauseous. All she wanted to do was get home, fall into bed, and sleep for a whole day. 

Reaching the end of the alley, the girl stepped out onto the sidewalk and looked both ways. There was no sign of anyone, aside from a sedan at the end of the street going the other way. Taking the phone from her pocket, she checked the messages. The most recent conversation showed the short, clearly terse, ‘Coming’. It was sent fifteen minutes earlier. Home was a ten minute drive away, so counting time to get dressed, her ride would be here any minute. 

A smile touched the girl’s face at the thought of getting home. She might take a shower before crashing, just to get the smell of smoke and stuff off. But mostly, just sleeping sounded great. 

With a yawn, she put her back against the wall of the nearby building and watched the corner her ride would be coming from. Headlights appeared, and she perked up. But they belonged to a jeep that drove straight past. After another minute, the girl yawned and slowly sank down to sit against the wall. Her eyes glanced briefly to the phone to make sure there wasn’t another message, before returning to watch the nearby intersection. Any minute now. Any minute. 

The sudden blaring of a horn along with a nearby light snapped Izzy awake. She jerked up right from where she had slumped over, staring with wide eyes until her gaze centered on the van waiting in front of her with the door open. The driver, her mother, hit the horn again and made an impatient gesture while shouting, “Stop wasting time and get in! Some of us have to work!”

Scrambling to her feet, Izzy took a brief second to glance at the phone in her hand. Forty-five minutes had passed since she sat down, an hour since her mother had said she was on her way. Quickly, she shoved the phone in her pocket and moved over to climb into the van. Before she had the door shut, they were moving, pulling away from the curb with a squeal of tires. 

Mariana Amor wore a jacket over her nightgown, grumbling to herself as they blew through a red light. “This is garbage, you understand? Garbage. These people have you out at all hours and they can’t even bring you home afterward? It’s disrespectful. Completely disrespectful. You know why they do it? Because they don’t respect you. They think they can walk all over you, walk all over us. It’s what they do. They use you for your power and they will throw you away as soon as you’re not useful enough. You know that? You tell me you know that, Isidora.”

“But Madre,” Izzy protested a bit weakly, “they’re still busy making sure everyone’s safe at the hotel and the hospital. They’re gonna be busy all night, but they said it was okay for me to leave because I was tired. And they said I could wait for a ride, but your message said that you were on the way, so I said they didn’t have to do anything. I thought you’d be here soon.”   

Her mother gave the girl a sharp look. “Don’t you put it back on me, niñita. I told you, I have to work in the morning. You know, that thing that puts real food on the table for both of us? Besides, I was a little tired when you called and I didn’t want to have an accident falling asleep at the wheel. You don’t want your mother to have an accident and die, do you?” 

“No, Madre,” Izzy murmured quietly, shaking her head. She turned a bit to look out at the passing buildings as they drove, not wanting to rile her mother up any more than she was. 

It didn’t really work. For the next seven minutes, Izzy sat in silence and listened as her mother ranted about how disrespectful the people behind the Minority were, how they treated her like a disposable asset, how they didn’t care what happened to her or what kind of trouble they put her family through as long as they had access to her power. And so on and so on. Occasionally, she would tell Izzy to agree with her to make sure the girl was listening, but mostly she just went on.

Finally, they parked in the covered parking lot next to their condominium and headed up the stairs. Izzy trudged along, yawning once more as they reached the front door. Her mother fumbled with the keys in the dim light from the nearby porch lamp, still cursing under her breath about how late it was and how little sleep she was going to end up getting before work. 

Eventually, her mother found the right key and unlocked the door. Izzy stepped through, unzipping her jacket while visions of her warm, comfy bed danced through her mind. Maybe the shower would wait until morning, because at this rate, she’d fall asleep in there and that would–

“Oh good, you’re finally home.” The sudden words interrupted Izzy’s thoughts, and she blinked up to see a strange man standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He wore one of those old bird-like plague doctor masks, along with a dark red apron over a black bodysuit. 

The sight of the man suddenly made Izzy forget all about being tired. Her hands snapped up, a ball of water forming between them before she even thought about the fact that she was giving away that she had powers. None of that mattered, except for protecting herself and her mother. 

Unfortunately, the ball of water had barely formed between her hands before a sudden, intense pain exploded in the back of the girl’s head. Izzy collapsed to the floor, sprawling out as her vision wavered in and out. Black spots had appeared, and she blearily looked up to see her mother standing there with a heavy, now-cracked figurine in one hand. “Sorry, baby,” she started while Izzy’s vision swam and began to fade. It took another second for consciousness to completely flee, enough time to leave her with her mother’s words echoing through her head.
“But this whole thing just isn’t working out anymore.” 


With a sudden start, Izzy snapped awake. She tried to sit up as her eyes opened, only to find that neither helped. From what the girl could tell, she was tied to a chair, with a blindfold on. Some kind of heavy plastic ball was in her mouth, stopping her from saying anything. She did, however, make a noise of confusion, shifting in the chair while jerking a bit against the bonds. 

“Ah,” a man’s voice spoke, “she’s awake. Let’s see then…” There were fingers against her head, and she flinched at the rush of pain that shot through it from the blow she’d taken to the head. A blow from… from… her own mother? But why? Why would her mother hit her like that?

The blindfold came off, and Izzy found herself staring into that plague doctor mask, as the man studied her from behind the mirrored lenses in the eyes, leaving the girl staring at her own reflection when she tried to meet his gaze. She saw herself, bound to a heavy metal chair in her own kitchen, ball gag in her mouth. Her eyes were wild and looked almost crazed, leaving her even more stunned at the sight of it than she had already been. 

“There, see?” That was her mother’s voice, speaking up from the doorway. As Izzy’s eyes snapped that way, she saw the woman come into view. “The kid’s just fine. You can do your… whatever you’re going to do, after I get paid. So come on then, give it over before I change my mind about this whole thing and find someone who might offer a little bit more.” 

Instead of responding to her, the plague doctor looked at Izzy, head tilting a little. “You look confused, dear,” he murmured. “Let me spell it out for you. My name is Handler. I work for the man you know as Cuélebre. Your mother sold you to him, and I’m here to get you ready. That’s why it took time for her to come pick you up. We were… coming to a final arrangement.” 

Staring in shock and confusion, the words echoing through her head as she stared at her mother, Izzy shouted into the gag, her words swallowed up by it. At the same time, she jerked in the chair, a ball of water forming in front of her. But the instant it did, the man called Handler put a finger against her hand, and Izzy’s muffled words turned to a scream of agony. Pain, the likes of which she’d never known, exploded throughout her entire young body as the water fell apart.

“Hey!” her mother blurted, “I told you, not until you pay me. Money, you cheap bastard.” 

“In a moment,” the man assured her before turning his attention back to Izzy. “We have to make sure we all understand each other. So go ahead,” he urged, stepping away from the girl once her muffled scream had faded, hands up to show he wasn’t going to stop her. “Try that again.” 

The ball of water had barely begun to form that time before the shock of agony was back, bringing a renewed scream to the gagged young girl while her mother simply looked away. 

“I touch you,” the man informed her, “and mark a certain action as wrong. Actions such as using your power. Or raising your voice. Or disobeying an order from certain people. You do the action, you get punished. For now, the punishment my touch instills will only last for a few minutes. But with enough training and repeated sessions, anything you ever do that is against what Cuélebre requires or allows will bring that same pain for weeks, months, years at a time without needing to be refreshed. Eventually, I won’t need to renew it at all. And by then, you won’t need the pain anyway. You’ll simply do as you are told. Now then, remember that I have instilled a punishment for raising your voice. So no shouting. Let’s see if we’re on the same page.” He reached out, carefully unlatching the ball gag before pulling it away from her mouth. 

“M-Madre!” Izzy blurted, tears suddenly flooding her eyes. “Madre, it’s not true! Say it’s a trick! No, you wouldn’t do this! You can’t do this!” All thought of being tired had fled the girl, replaced by a feeling of loss and betrayal the likes of which she might never actually understand. 

Her mother spared a glance for her, pausing before stepping over. “Look, Izzy, it’s nothing personal. I just… I never wanted to be a mother. I never wanted to be a normal mother, let alone one for a… a superhero. I didn’t want it. I still don’t. I’m not… I’m not strong like you are, Izzy. Whatever happens, I know you can handle it. Yes, they’ll hurt you. But you’re a big girl. You’re a strong girl. You’ll be okay. And me… I… I’ll start a new life somewhere else. You’ll get over it.”

She’d… she’d get over it? Her mother had… her mother had sold her identity and her to a monster who wanted to torture her into obedience and she would just… get over it? Izzy stared, mouth open as tears continued to fall silently. She could find no words, could find no thought. Her mother… her mother didn’t care about her. She sold her. She was… she was going to leave her in this man’s hands so he could do… do whatever he wanted. Why? Why? Her body trembled, shaking against the bonds that held her to the heavy metal chair. Her voice was weak, marked by fear and confusion that made her ashamed of herself. “Madre… Mama, please…” 

“Don’t,” her mother snapped. “Don’t start that. I just–I can’t handle you. I don’t deserve to have to deal with any of this. I told you, I didn’t ask to be a mother, especially after your father left. I’m not cut out for it and you–you’re worth more like this. Do what the man says and you’ll be fine.” With that, she turned to Handler, voice snapping, “You have her and she’s secure. Money, now.” 

A new ball of water formed, reflexively summoned by the sobbing, pleading girl. It popped, as a renewed scream of agony exploded from her mouth. She’d barely gotten the first sound out before the gag was unceremoniously shoved back in. With it secure, muffling yet another scream as she struggled to use her power, Handler turned his back to the girl, apparently dismissing her from his mind as he produced a cell phone and extended it to her mother. 

“As agreed, five hundred thousand dollars for one moldable, powerful young Touched. As you can see, it’s been sent to the offshore account you specified. Are you satisfied?” 

The look of eager greed on her mother’s face as she stared at the phone screen made Izzy stop pleading and struggling against the gag. It was that, more than the woman’s cold words or the entire situation, which convinced her of just how real this was. Her mother didn’t care about her. She was selling her to be tortured and running away with the money. There was no sense in begging, no sense in pleading with her mother to change her mind, because she wouldn’t. Her mother wasn’t just okay with her being sold to Cuélebre, she was eager to leave with her money. There was no guilt in her face, nothing to indicate that she cared at all. 

Begging was useless. Being scared, sad, none of it would help. So Izzy stopped doing any of that. 

And started getting angry. 

Both her mother and the ‘Handler’ man had turned away from her. They were talking to each other while walking out of the kitchen. Izzy could hear them moving to the front door, her mother saying something about getting the money out of town before anyone found out what she’d done. Through it all, listening to her voice, she felt that… anger… that sense of betrayal. And with it came agony beyond anything she had ever thought possible, pain she couldn’t hope to describe. It suffused her entire being, her body arching up against the bonds as her dull, horrific scream of anguish, muffled only by the heavy gag, gradually filled the room.

The front door closed, and those footsteps steadily returned, as Handler came back. “Now then,” the man was already saying, “we’ll start your real training back at a more private place, but… we…” He trailed off, head tilting upward toward the rapid, steady thrum of water against the roof of the condo. “Is it raining? I–” His gaze dropped, staring at the bound young girl. She was pale, face stricken by the torture of what she was putting herself through. Sweat soaked through every pore, eyes tightly closed while she gave a low, tormented sob of misery.

Then her eyes opened, staring at the man while the rain hammering against the condo suddenly grew louder. It sounded like a deluge of water had suddenly opened up. It hammered the windows, the rain coming down so hard and fast that the entire building literally shook under the force of it. 

“Oh,” Handler managed to get out, “shi–” 

That was as far as he got, before Izzy arched her back, bonds barely holding her to the chair. The gag did almost nothing to muffle her deafening scream, as the condo literally ripped its way out of the ground. Her other power, the one that allowed her to control gravity on anything that was wet, tore the building up into the air. They went up a good ten feet or so before the building tipped over entirely. Handler’s words turned to a surprised shout, as the lights faded, plunging the condo into darkness. Cabinets had flown open, furniture, dishes, and more flying through the rooms. The last sight Handler had of the girl, she had directed water onto herself before flying, chair and all, through an open window just before the entire building slammed upside down into the ground. 

The wreckage of the condo littered the street, looking like a small, personal tornado had lifted it up, torn it apart, and thrown it back down again. Izzy found herself staring at it from where her power had dropped her when she could no longer handle any more pain. The drop had been enough to bend the chair somewhat, so she could slip her way free. Now, she stood, staring at the wreckage while tears fell freely from her face. Tears that would not slow, or fade, for a long time.

Some of the rubble shifted a bit, and she saw Handler pushing himself out of it while lights on the front porches of nearby houses turned on. People were starting to come out, even as the masked man climbed up. He was joined almost immediately by several other Oscuro soldiers who came running from the nearby car where they had obviously been waiting to transport her. 

Her mother’s van was already gone. 

The Oscuro people were looking around for her, weapons raised. They hadn’t spotted Izzy from where she was crouched by a fence a couple houses down. But they would soon. And she still couldn’t use her power without more pain. It had nearly killed her to do what she did. 

She couldn’t fight them. Not like this. Not physically, and not emotionally. So, the twelve-year old did the only thing she could in that moment. 

She turned and ran away.

Previous Chapter                               Next Chapter


  1. Well, that’s probably gonna end up opening a can of worms, isn’t it? But hey, it could’ve gone worse. We’ll see what ends up coming of that fairly soon here. Thanks to everyone for reading, and come back next Monday for next interlude, which will be voted on by donators shortly! And, of course, Heretical Edge will be back on Friday.

    If you’d like, you can always click right here to vote for this story on Top Web Fiction, and the tags for the chapter are: “She’s A Little Girl Who Throws Water Around And Makes Things Float. I Can Take Her.”, Handler, Izzy Amor, Izzy’s mother Wasn’t Sure She Was Going To Win The Worst Parent Ever Award In The First Half Of The Chapter‚ So She Decided To Lap The Competition., Mariana Amor, Raindrop

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Oh, it’s temporary. He didn’t use it on her enough for it to last that long. As Handler said in the chapter, his power only affects people for a few minutes at first. It requires more repeated applications to last substantially longer.

      Liked by 3 people

  2. Damn Cerulean, that was intense. Amazing.
    Your chapters are always enjoyable but this one especially so.

    ~Wild Speculation~
    If Izzy is gonna suffer from lingering pain when she tries to use her powers, Cassidy’s pink paint may finally get a chance to shine, pain suppression maybe? At least until they find a more permanent solution. Or maybe it’ll become a part of Izzys character, using her power to help people despite causing herself immense pain. Saint in the making.

    Anyway, Mariana Amor huh? What a total bitch. Would be poetic if on her escape she runs into Pencil and becomes a layer of drowning protection.

    Your name game is on point, Izzy is too young to be getting into amorous relationships but I expect she is going to have trust issues in the future. Unless she gets a good friend quickly. Wouldn’t be surprised if that phrase, “You’ll get over it,” becomes a sore spot too.

    Thinking about it, Cassidy has been suffering through a similar situation herself. Discovering that her superhero idol is actually also a villain AND her father. At least she discovered it on her own and not while being sold into servitude.

    I also feel obliged to call you a monster, but after some of the shit in HE this is pretty mild.
    Touché you glorious bastard. Really enjoying your stories.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Thanks, glad you enjoyed it. As for Izzy, physically the pain is a temporary thing. But the sense of betrayal and everything emotionally and psychologically stemming from it? Yeah, that’s not something that just disappears.


  3. Wow, so many people keep missing what the narration said. The pain effect is temporary. It was very clearly stated geeze…

    I knew Mariana was a piece of shit the very moment she showed up but I didn’t think she’d be that bad. Should have been more careful with the contraceptives. I hope she dies a slow and painful death.

    As for Handler I also would like to see him in pain for a very long time. I know you don’t really get to pick your powers and with something like “cause pain when people do something you tell them not to” it’s not as obvious what you can do in the ‘good’ side of things but even so he made a choice.

    Thanks for the chapter Cerulean.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. I’m guessing she’s going to want to go back to the Minority rather than get recruited by anyone else, but I do wonder if Sterling will end up leveraging something here to get her on his side. Like, if Izzy wants revenge, he can probably get his hands on Marina, since she’s an idiot who won’t get far.

    I doubt she’ll want to get involved in a full on criminal gang after this, but some level of ‘look the other way’ sometimes is probably doable for the Evans organization. I doubt every official hero on his payroll is aware of the entire extent of his operations.


  5. Oh, thank FUCK she got away. Dude, that scene pissed me off so much.

    You know all those questions about what you’d do if you could magick yourself into a book? Well, in this case let’s just say I’d have taken two shots and left it at that.

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Hm, Handler must have tortured Mariana quite a bit, to make her sound so convincing in selling her daughter and not caring about it. That conversation was fake, orchestrated by Handler for maximum shock effect in the hope to crush Izzy.

    Really, that interaction was not how a parent deals with her daughter. Especially not a daughter that is as gifted as Izzy, and earning top dollar so that Mommy-dear doesn’t have to work anymore. After all, the Minority has FUNDING. They are among a group of maybe a few hundred, in a multimillion metropolis. Having a super-powered kid that is recognized and licensed as such by the powers that be ruling Chicago, is practically a ticket to wealth for Mommy. The kids don’t work their ass off as charity. Or. Do they?

    At least that was what I’m hoping against all odds, that this was what I just read. But I did only see clues that this was written to be taken at face-value.

    If Silversmith actually doesn’t recompensate the families of his heroic assets, not even pulling strings in their favor, and he let this poor woman toil in a hard and low-paying job, as was alluded? Then he has gone all the way to compromise Raindrop, by not caring about her personal situation. It’s like he directly sold…
    Hm. He allegedly controls all Touched-business of the city, anyway. So selling Raindrop to his buddy Cuelebre may be the point… in order to slowly drain all heroic forces from Chicago and mold it into Sin City? That way, he insists on his young heroes to bootstrap themselves out of poverty and gets paid millions by other villains to look the other way when they recruit the guys who don’t get lucky.

    But then again, having such a grand plan goes against the established story rule that all adults are incompetent and the kids get to run circles around them… Hmmmmm…
    But then again, purpusefully turning a booming Shining-City-on-the-Hill into a desperate crime-riddled Sin City is TOTALLY the worst business-decision that a corporate ruler can make for his domain in the long run, so it proves Silversmith’s incompetence when it comes to solid business decisions.

    I really have no idea what is going on here, and I hope Cassidy is going to explore the family business model some more – something that she actively avoided doing so far, instead choosing to patrol the streets.


    1. Okay, I should have read one chapter forward before my comment, and could have forgone most of what I wrote.

      So Silversmith is just stupid or cheeseparing enough to not pay his underage hero group some sort of salary, and that is the entire level of incompetence present here, apparently: Startouched have to fund themselves, with toiletscrubbing as their daytime job if necessary. At least in the case of Izzy’s family.


      1. As noted in my reply to your comment on 7-02, the Minority does get paid. I have no idea where the idea that they don’t came from. This is just Raindrop’s mother being greedy and wanting *more*/a bigger and more immediate payout. Of course Startouched don’t fund themselves if they work with a government or corporate-aligned team. I really am curious if there’s an actual reason you thought that in what was written.


  7. A bigger and immediate payout, hum. Let’s say SS just pays the bare necessities, that is like 5k per month, which amounts to 70k per year with gratifications. Even with taxes that is enough to not even work herself and maintain a modest living. Or, for a more comfortable living style, the double amount… 140k a year gross income. Each year. Every year of her life, and larger amounts later, of course, when Izzy plays the big leagues

    Selling this golden ticket for a 500k one-time payment was incredibly shortsighted. And then, most of it has to be spent for running from authorities, because she WILL have touched and/or police coming after her. Every year of her life.
    Had I been the most heartless parent in the world, I’d have run the numbers, swallowed the indignity of playing chauffeur and cook for the ‘unwanted brat’ who keeps rolling cash into the household, and feigned all the love I could muster.

    (50k are paid IRL for unpowered blackmarket babies… a unique child-supersoldier is worth a lot more than what was offered here.)
    In hindsight I know why the story needed this stupidity on Mom’s part, but I still shake my head. There was a guy right there who had torture/brainwashing powers and who could have forced her behaviour to make her a more ambiguous/tragic character instead of a soulless monster.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s