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CHAPTER ONE

CLASH OF THE SUMMERS

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     IT WAS SAFE to confirm that Charlotte Hope is classified as a lot of things.

      For starters, she's twenty-four years old. She's the only child of Raymond and Amelia Summers. Practically, born and raised in Central City, she's a native of Ohio. Having dark hair, brown eyes, and being able to stand at least five feet five inches (unless you catch her wearing heels, she's measured up to be at least five feet six inches, but you get the picture).

     She's known as a celebrity around Central City, having a strong found love for different fashion statements. In her spare time, she is known for having a famous blogspot surfacing around the internet, highlighting the latest fashion do's and don'ts and covering entertaining things that happen around time. She's the only person in her family to pursue an actual name for herself that has nothing to do with crime or scandal related activities.

     At least that was her lifetime goal: turn out better than your parents.

     As the daughter of a mafia related family, watching her father abuse drugs, kill off innocent families, and her mother following right behind him, she had the gut feeling that she was going to turn out better than both of her parents. And, even if it meant losing her family name in exchange for something a little for bright and hopeful — because often, people seem to assume that the last name Summers, bring sunshine and good things — she was going to do it.

     By the age of fourteen, when Charlotte decided to stand up to her father, rather than stay locked up in her room like she always did, the whole thing about changing her name and making something better for herself, didn't quite sit well with the young father Raymond Summers, at the time. Instead of choosing to plan a path to one day, take over the "family business" with her father, Charlotte Summers decided on something different. Something that made both Amelia and Raymond laugh in the young teary-eyed girl's face. Out of all the jobs in the entire world, Charlotte had planned her future career choice as a lawyer. Rather than, threatening his own blood like he did for the rest of his client's, he leaned down to the small child and labeled her as weak.

     And from that moment, little Charlotte Hope was scarred for life by that adjective.

      She would be classified as weak three months later as she watched her mother die right in front her eyes as a mysterious man fired three shots at the late Amelia Summers, in revenge for the latest hit Raymond and his posse committed. She would be labeled as weak three years later when she was called to testify against her father for the robbery and homicide of Nancy Turner and her family, Central City's second billionaire. And she would be labeled as weak when her father was sentenced to life in behind bars, therefore putting a fork in the road for the famous mob.

    Now, one thing about the Summers family that you must know is that no matter how much money they had in their bank account or success they had under their belts, they always craved more. More and more. Nothing was going to ever stop them. Not even, being trapped behind bars. But more than anything, one thing that every person in Central City knew was the Summers family, especially, Raymond Summers knew how to get revenge, and get it good. That's all that matter to him.

     And no one knew that better than his own flesh and blood.

     It was hard to say that Charlotte loathed her family, her father specifically because, at the end of the day, they were her blood. But that the same time, she knew that if he never bothered to speak with her or see her again, she'd would be okay with it.

     Which why after she became older, she decided on a career path that would be much better than a lawyer. A career path that would help keep criminal, like her father, off the streets. The people would be safe. No longer would be evil be lurking around every street corner because there would be a special goddess looking after them and protecting them from above. She would become the one good thing that her parents would never become in their lifetime. She would become Aurora.

     And while that task of becoming Central City's warrior goddess wouldn't be so easy as Charlotte imagined, she would manage to get the city's approval (for the most part) by stopping bad guys and bringing back justice. Along the way, she would befriend other people who believed in the same purpose she believed in and would aid them in serving hope and light to the people who needed it most. And, even though Charlotte didn't receive the glorious praise like her superhero alter ego did, she would soon hope people would recognize the true good in her.

     At least that's what she dreamed would happen.

     If her dad wasn't involved in illegal activity, she wouldn't even think about creating Aurora. But the thing about Charlotte is she didn't want to stand around and be the weak being her father classified as. She wanted to be something so much better. And once her father found out about her doing something better for her name, he somehow got in contact with her and told her, "Charlie, don't be so naive to believe that you are going to take down the empire I created. I don't want to have to kill my own daughter."

     That last part is the majority of what fueled her to do just that: destroy his empire. She's already taken down three big dealers, and one top leader of the Summers crime family within last year. Now, it's her job to take down the prime leader herself, in order to shut down the whole crime organization. She needed to get rid of her father once and for all. She came up with a plan and everything. But everything seemed to fall apart right in front of her.

     After eight years of sitting behind bars, Raymond Summers as proclaimed as a "free" citizen, thanks to the fucked up legal system and newly acclaimed evidence found that proved he was innocent for the homicide of Nancy Turner. After befriending Central City's (second) best superhero, Charlotte found herself getting to close for comfort with him. She became too distracted that she lost the main sight of why she created Aurora in the right place. And right when she tried to make everything better again, her father had already taken over Central City by storm, selling illegal drugs, weaponry, and more. And it seemed to all happen in a blink of an eye.

     It was all her fault. And because of it, many people died. Charlotte remembers the joyous look on her father's face when they meet face to face after years being apart, and she remembers how he bragged on himself and reminded her of just who she was all these years. Weak.

     She remembers the look on her friend's face, when six months ago, Charlotte finally gave up and believed what her father had told her all these years. Although, Charlotte had doubts about what her father told her, then again, the outcome of her plan had blown up in her face and made her the fool she didn't want to become. There used to be bravery and hope that fueled within the young girl's spirit despite all the hell she faced growing up. The people of Central City had a reason to believe in something again. But when she left, it was almost like a dark wave of sadness pierced the hearts of many, and Central City became the dark gloomy town again.

     So here Charlotte sits, her head being propped up by the support of her hand. There are three empty shot glasses next to her, followed by an old ragged man snoozing beside her. The rose gold watch on her wrist reads 12:30 AM and Charlotte sighs. The night has gone by incredibly slow and by now Charlotte would be expected to be in her home, probably either watching an episode of Friends or editing a post for her blog. But instead, she's sitting in a cruddy bar just waiting for something to happen. She hopes the information she's received from an anonymous source is accurate or she'll be known as crazy for sitting in a bar for three hours just waiting for a friend.

     The bartender was suspicious at first at of Charlotte's behavior but soon realized after two hours into her sitting silently at the bar table that she was harmless. He doesn't really get Charlotte's kind that often so he really doesn't know what to do. He used to old greasy and intrusive men stepping into his workplace, demanding him orders. Not petite young girl, walking in and asking him permission to sit at the bar. He has a goblet glass in hand and rag on his shoulder, as he walks over Charlotte.

      He places the glass in front of her and grabs a cold bottle of ginger ale, pours it and says, "You really don't look like you drink — you actually look like you're not even old enough to drink," he tells her. By now, Charlotte comes out of a zone and is snapped back into reality. She looks up to him and slightly smiles, just enough to where he notices. "Are you even old enough to drink?"

      "Of course I am — weren't you paying attention when I showed you my ID?"

      "Just because it says on a piece of plastic that your legal doesn't mean it's actually true," he says. To be fair, it did make a lot of sense. Around here, fake ID wasn't hard to get ahold of. All you had to do was know the right people. And, to be fair, the bartender was used to having elder men come in and out of his business that he didn't even need to see their ID. If they had a sign of facial hair and money, then they were considered legal in his eyes. "Besides I usually don't get young girls like you... no offense, but you look like you don't belong here."

       "I get that a lot nowadays," says Charlotte, grabbing the glass of the clear drink and taking a small sip. The man raises his eyebrow and she continues, "When you grow with a crime family and you realize that your heart doesn't have the greed-seeking revenge like the rest of your family, you realize that you don't belong."

      "Oh, uh, I didn't mean to —"

      "But on the bright side, after I leave your small business richer than the Boardwalk Place on Monopoly."

      "If I ever become rich, the first thing I'll do is sell this place and take my wife on a trip. She always wanted to go somewhere fancy. I figured I'd take her to Paris. She could eat a fancy croissant or something like that."

      The bell on the door rings. Two large men with trench coats walk inside. The bartender looks with worry as the two men step close to the bar. She frowns at him.

      The television located on the corner of the small room begins to play the late night news. Charlotte's knee begins to bounce up and down, and she's not quite sure how she should feel at this moment. Her stomach is twisted into several knots, followed by the rush of adrenaline that's been in her blood ever since she stepped foot in this rundown place. She grabs her drink and listens in on the news as she tries to preoccupy herself. By now, the bartender had attended to the two men, giving them each a pint glass of beer. Once they are finished, they share a few words with the bartender and they soon get up from their stools and they walk towards the back.

       There's a couple good thing that comes out of this. No one knows anything about her. At least she thinks. No one has yet to recognize her or asked her about her past life, so that technically a start. No one knows that's the daughter of a mobster. And, definitely, no one knows her true motives on why she actually sitting in this place solely close to midnight.

      All people know is that there's some funny business going down at Jack's Saloon and some people believe that Raymond Summers is behind it all. But the police were too preoccupied with other crimes and issues, that finding Raymond Summers' where about are on the last thing on their mind. So Charlotte, took it into her own hands to take it into action. At least then she'll know that someone is actually doing something for the city.

      So she's looking forward to the right moment. The moment when she'll be able to excuse her to the back. To spy around to see what is going on. If she's lucky (which nine times out of ten, she isn't. But who's counting?) she'll be able to leave out of this without a scratch on her body. But if she isn't lucky, then she going to have to explain herself when the bartender decides to call the police. But that's only if she manages to flee the scene first.

      "Anyways," the bartender continues, after finishing with the men. The news is still playing. There's segment about another shooting that leads to a murder that involves a mob. Charlotte feels sick. "I think Paris is fun, I haven't been there before, but the T.V. commercials make it look fun."

     "I've been to Paris before when I was younger. My mom headlined a fashion show there. We ate croissants, laughed, and before we left, she bought me this beautiful dress." says Charlotte. She frowns mid-sentence. "It took up our whole cargo space on the flight back home. But we managed to get it here. I would say I still have it in my possession, but we had to get rid of it because my dad used it to wipe up the blood on the window of the car when —" Charlotte stops herself as the man stares back at her oddly. "But yeah, Paris is fun."

      "Are you okay? You seem a little—"

      "Yeah, yeah, uh I'm fine," says Charlotte. She looks down at her watch that reads 12:55 AM. The bartender's frowning and she lets out a sigh. "I was pulling your strings. Of course, I've been to Paris before, and I think your wife would enjoy it. She seems like she has a nice taste if she likes that type of scenery."

       He slowly nods his head, and wipes down the wooden counter, and goes on to say, "Yeah, I guess. Ever since the crime in Central City has gotten worse, she's been thinking about getting out of here. But it's kind of hard, considering this is the place that basically puts bread on the table. Her brother just recently got killed due to that damn mob that lurks around the city. Nathan was just minding his business when he got caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time — I just want to make her happy again, y'know?"

      Charlotte's heart sinks. She too distraught to even pay attention to the rest of his story. All she hears is tiny little details before she complete zones out. She was ten years older than him. He finally managed to find a stable job and met a nice young woman that fit his interest. He was innocent. He knew nothing about the deal that was going on two blocks from his home. All he wanted to do was take his trash out, but instead, the mob took him out. And left him to die in cold blood.

       Her father was behind this. She just knows it. And if she had to take a guess, she would probably say that he wouldn't care to hear about Nathan's story or any other stories that included innocent people being caught in the crossfire of his wrongdoing. All he cared about was himself. Himself, his money, and making the city his kingdom.

       "My name's Ben, by the way," he says.

     Charlotte glances down at her watch. 1:00 AM.

      "I'm Char — Chandler," says Charlotte. "Do you happen to have a bathroom?"

       "Uh, yeah," He turns around and grabs a key sitting behind the bar. He hands it to her and put his towel onto his shoulder again. "In order to lock it, you'll need a key. It just right around the back to your left. If you open the right door then you've gone into my office, which doesn't have anything in there but piled up late bills and pictures of my wife and kids."

       Charlotte nods and walks off to the back. In the beginning, she does actually go into the bathroom. She decides to fresh up by washing her hands and fixing her hair, but not too much. She doesn't bother to even use the bathroom, considering that many people have probably vomited all over it that the last thing she would want to do is sit on it. Her plan was to go back to the bar, finish her ginger ale, and call it a night. But her mind had different motives. After turning off the running faucet, the thin walls were thin enough to where she could hear other people talking — no, screaming —in the other room. She told herself that she wasn't going to get involved with it, but her heart raced when she heard a familiar voice.

       The voice that wreaks havoc into her life ever since she was born. The voice that she grew to hate when she found her mother down on the ground, blood streaming from her body. His voice echoed through the halls and into her ears, sending a sickening feeling she couldn't get rid of.

        She walks out of the bathroom and into the hallway. She turns and notices that Ben is not attending the bar, but instead, escorting the passed out man that had been sitting beside Charlotte. It was time to take her chance. She reaches down and grabs her small pistol from under her pants leg. She doesn't have any bullet in it, but she hopes the gun is imitating enough so she doesn't have use any force. She doesn't really have a solid plan, but she knows that if she sits back and does nothing then, the police won't do anything about it.

       Without thinking twice, her heels are on kicking down the door and she was now in the room. There are about three men with guns that surround her. The room smells of cigars and alcohol. A scent that is all too familiar to Charlotte. She doesn't know what to say or do except, point her small handgun at the man that was somewhat closest to her. 

     She looks brave on the outside, but on the inside, she's ready to admit that she's frightened. She should have come up with a better plan than just bursting through the door. But she holds her ground until the chair of the desk turns around. A man frown at her. "I really didn't think you would be caught up in a place like this,"

     Charlotte's heart begins to speed up. "I would expect you to have more class than this. You know, out in the rich part of town, drinking wine and partying with the exclusive people around the city." he says.

     "And I expect for you to be rotting in prison by now." Charlotte looks at him. The man's eyes narrow. He's got a cigar in his hand and a small glass of what Charlotte assumed to be whiskey. "But we all have our assumptions."

     The man, known as Raymond Summers, still frowning, takes a puff of his cigar and blows out smoke. He stands up from his seat, setting his glass down on the desk. Charlotte tries her best not to feel intimidated by him. Although, with her being outnumbered, standing in a room with three large men, and no weapons, it is kind of hard not to feel this way.

     "Gentlemen, you all know my beautiful daughter, Charlotte Summers."

     "I don't go by Summers, and you know that."

     Raymond laughs and takes one more puff on his cigar before he put it out. He stuffs one of his hand in his velvet dress pants and walks over to the one he knows as his own blood. Charlotte pulls back the gun as if she loading (hopefully, he feels threatened by this) as he gets closer to her. "You come from my blood so you'll always be a Summers until the day you die."

     "Unfortunately," she says. "But I am my own person and you will call and respect the name I go as."

      "Isn't she lovely?"

      The next few minutes are spent staring off at each other in silence. By now, Raymond has poured himself another drink and the three bulky men are still standing strong around her. Charlotte, on the other hand, navigates somewhat of a plan. If she lucky enough to take out her father's henchmen, then she'd be able to, possibly, if everything goes well, get to her father.

       And that's her plan. Raymond looks like he's proud of his daughter, for standing in front of him with a gun in her hand. "Well you look good — I haven't seen you since, well you know, since you tried to kill me," he says. Charlotte rolls her eyes. She knows that's only trying to get into her head. Throw her off her game. "So I'm guessing you've come to ask forgiveness, but by the way you have that gun in your hand, you might have something else in mind."

      "Forgiveness? Please."

     Raymond nods. He moves back towards the desk, leaning on the edge. "Seems like it was just yesterday when you used to coming running to arms and admire my work," he says. "Now you've grown into this ungrateful brat that tries to ruin everything for everyone. Honestly, Charlotte, when are you going to learn your lesson, it's pathetic."

     Charlotte tilts her head a little and scoffs at him. "Admire? You think I admired the fact that you would sneak off into the night and kill innocent people, sell illegal drugs, and buy killing machines off the black market," she replies. Raymond laughs and shakes his head. Charlotte couldn't help, but to feel disgusted at him. "I hated you for that. You're a killer. And I think it's time for you to learn your own lesson."

      "Really now," says Raymond, shaking his head still. He reaches into his velvet suit jacket and grabs another cigar and lights it up. "You hear that boys, she wants to teach me a lesson. She wants to teach me a lesson!"

     His henchmen sent a scowly laugh. Are they actually okay with all of this? Or they just scared to even speak up for what is right?

     Footsteps could be heard coming from the hallway. Ben appears in the doorframe, his face looks filled with concern. One of the henchmen turns and points a gun at him. His reaction to surrender was quick as he throws his hands in the air.

       "Look, man, I don't want any trouble," says Ben. He looks like he's staring back at a ghost or something. "I just— I have to close soon, and I needed to lock up." Then, he notices Charlotte with a pistol in her hands. "Chandler? What are you doing?"

     "Chandler?" asks Raymond. "Is that what she told you her name was?"

     Nervously, Ben nods his head. "Do you know her?"

     "This my daughter," says Raymond.

     "Oh —uh, I didn't know, she just—" Ben begins to sputter. He too scared for his life to get his sentence out. And, Raymond, enjoying him fumble in fear, laughs at him. "I just want to close up shop, go home, and see my wife."

      "Now is that how you talk to your boss?

     Charlotte feels a little strange, having to stand in the middle of all of this. On one side of the spectrum, she sees her father standing in pure joy as he watches the innocent man twitch in fear. Heaven forbid if he makes it out of this alive. On the other side of the spectrum, she sees an innocent man that made a deal with the devil. He knows that this could all go up in flames. But with no other option to turn to, he makes a desperate attempt to stay alive. It's saddening, honestly.

      Before Charlotte could utter a word, her father shakes his head. He looks at his henchmen and then looks back at both Charlotte and Ben. Charlotte knows that look. She swallows hard and is already on the tips of her feet, ready to make a move. "You know what," he says. "I am just not really in the mood to deal with this. Kill them both."

     Ben screams something and Charlotte is quick on her feet to go after the man that is closest to her right. She slammed her foot into the side of one of them and elbowed the current on attempting to hurt her. Another one moved to strangle her, she quickly kicked him in the stomach, ducking to miss the punch that he attempted to throw at her. Charlotte pushed one into the desk, before darting to grab the nearby fire extinguisher from its glass case on the wall.

     Before she could do anything with it, Raymond came up behind her. He grabbed onto the other end of the fire extinguisher — Charlotte kicked his knee, slamming the fire extinguisher down on him, but he managed to roll on the other side of the room. He grabs ahold to one the guns on the floor, along with Ben who was standing in the corner of the room, fearing for his life. Raymond points the gun to Ben's head.

     Whenever she looks up and notices, she immediately freezes. Time completely stops and she begins to feel remorse. Her hands go up in the air, and says, "Just let him go, this isn't about him, Raymond."

      Behind a guilty party, there's always an innocent man. Ben stands in front of Charlotte, his eyes flooded with tears. And she can't help but feel sorry and helplessly beg on his behalf, but Raymond isn't having it. "You see what you are making me do Charlotte?" he says. "God, I just trying to look out for you. I am trying to make this a better place for you. You know, that's all I ever wanted to do for you. Is make this a better place for you,"

     "Do you think I wanted to go against my own blood?" he asks. Charlotte just stares back at him. "You just don't understand it all. You don't get it, do you? You aren't made for saving the day, running up and down the streets playing the hero. You were made for something much more."

     "Let Ben go," she says. She still has her hands up in the air. She wants to do something, but she scared that at any sudden moment, her actions her going to cause chaos. And at this, she is beginning to become weak. "Please, I just do it for me. It doesn't have to end this way. We can just all go home and forget—"

     But before she could finish, there was a loud bang. Blood spattered on the side her face, along with a speck of blood on Raymond's suit. Ben drops to the floor, his body completely in shock. Incoming sirens could be heard from outside, and Raymond looks behind him. He notices his henchmen on the floor, lying in utter defeat. He quickly places his gun in the back of his pants and without a word, escapes through a side door window.

     Shit! He got away!

     Charlotte runs towards Ben, kneeling down at his body. Her eyes begin to flood with tears as she notices the bullet wound that located an inch by his heart. She wants to say something, but she can't find the words. Ben would be alive if it wasn't for her. He would have gotten a chance to home to his children. Live his life. And take the love of his life to Paris.

     He coughs a little blood, and Charlotte's eyes gleam with hope. Shouting could be heard coming from the police as they look around the room. As Charlotte manages to get up to get help, her hands are tightly gripped.

     She looks at Ben as he mumbles, "I didn't think I would end like this," he says. "I thought I would die in a hospital or something."

     Charlotte shakes her head. "You aren't going to die—"

     "Face it, kid, I've got a bullet in my chest, and I can already see the light coming—"

     "Don't talk like that. I am going to get help."

      A detective stands in the doorframe. Charlotte looks up at him and sighs. He's about in his mid-forties and by the way he looks at her, the scene seems all too familiar to him. The officer lowers his gun down and slowly begins to walk over to Charlotte. His eyes scan the room, noticing the destruction all around. The three bulky men that once stood brave were knocked down by the petite, yet strong, brunette. The officer could say that he was shocked, but then again, this scene was all too familiar to him. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. For once, Detective Joe West is speechless.

     Before Charlotte could say anything, Ben looks up at her. His face is beginning to become pale and his once tight grip is becoming loose. He smiles, and before he takes his last breath, mumbles, "If you get a chance to go back to Paris, promise me, you'll take my wife with you." he says. "Take her to the best croissant shop in town, take her to see the Eiffel Tower, and make her feel special—"

     "Ben, don't talk like that."

    "Listen to me kid, okay. When this is all done, just do whatever it takes to my wife happy again."

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wow, okay, hi! i think i am back and i am ready to capture your hearts! idk if this any good but!!! i hope you enjoyed!!!! i took a lot time off of this story because i've been writing it for like three years and i didn't really have a clue on what i was doing, but it was great time for me to think and actually plot this (for the like the sixth time). im solely basing this off charlotte just trying to make a comeback (because who doesn't like a good comeback story) so there won't be any talk of charlotte having superpowers (yettt!) and you guys have no idea how much i have planned for this story.

let me know what you thought! (also there might be some typos because i am a lover of typos, but i will fix that later :))