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Dedicated to kyoto2thebay for the awesome trailer to the side! Thanks :D x

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I woke up to the sound of beeping.

            At first I thought it was birds chattering outside my window, and that the bright light on my eyelids was the sun dappling through a chink in my curtains and waking me up for another long day of school.

            But then I realized that the light across my eyelids was a blinding, angelic white, and I'd never heard a bird make that sound before. Unwillingly, I opened my eyes, and was immediately hit by a heavenly glow so bright I had to squint and blink multiple times to try and let my corneas adjust to the blindingly bright light.

            I swallowed past a thickening lump in my throat. My mouth most likely resembled the desert, it was that dry. My whole body felt numb and sluggish, except for my head, which was pounding slightly, and my leg, which was twitching uncontrollably. My arm felt especially numb, and I turned my head to the side to see an IV machine and a drip inserted into the flesh of my hand. It penetrated through the skin and into my bloodstream, and my stomach lurched in disgust. I hated blood and anything medical related, so this was like torture for me. I'd definitely never be a nurse or doctor.

            There was also a heart monitor, which was the source of the annoying beeping. It beeped at a constant, steady rhythm, which was reassuring. At least I wasn't dead. That would really put a dampener on my social life.

            "Oh, thank God you're okay," a voice suddenly said, and I whipped my head to the side to see my mother rushing over to me, my father following closely behind. She threw her arms around my neck and hugged my close, and I shut my eyes, savoring the feel of her arms around me as she hugged me close. Some of her long raven hair brushed my face, and I resisted the urge to sneeze.

            "What happened?" I whispered. I still had no idea why I was even in the hospital.

            She leant back and looked into my eyes quizzically. "Well, we were hoping you could tell us that. We were doing the dishes and you were on the roof and we heard a knocking on the door and we opened it to find you lying on the pavement below the roof. We thought you'd fallen, but the doctor says physically you're fine."

            It all came rushing back to me in a flood of memories. Finding the Voiceless Stranger on my roof, the words exchanged, and then stepping off the roof. But he had caught me, hence why I wasn't injured. He must've put me down, knocked on the door and bailed so that he wouldn't have to face my parents. What other explanation was there for how I had landed in the hospital without a scratch?

            "The Voiceless Stranger," I gasped out, sitting bolt upright. My head swum dizzyingly in protest, and I slowly lowered myself back to the mattress and shut my eyes for the briefest of seconds.

            "What, honey?" my mother asked gently, probably thinking I was babbling useless nonsense due to the fact I was hooked up to the IV. Her fingers stroked through my hair, making me want to fall back to sleep. But I couldn't. Not until I had the story out in the open.

            "The Voiceless Stranger saved me. He talked to me on the roof and I fell off. He saved me."

            "Honey, you were lying on the ground when we opened the door," my mother pointed out, not unkindly.

            "Yeah, but I was uninjured!" I replied, my voice rising as dots connected in my head like a puzzle. "Don't you think that's a little strange? And who was knocking on the door? Someone must've done it to tell you that I was on the ground, and it obviously couldn't have been me."

            "But why would he save you?" my father chimed in disbelievingly. "He's the town's super-villain."

            "I don't think he's a bad guy. I just think he's... misunderstood. Everything thinks he's a villain, but he's not. He saved me, Dad. I swear to you," I told him sincerely. I wasn't so sure about the whole 'nice' thing, but he was nice enough to save me and not let me die, at least.

            My mother and father exchanged a look. I tried to decipher it, but I was too tired. "I guess it makes sense," my mother said after a moment. "It would explain the knock on the door and the fact she wasn't hurt. But why did he talk to you, Violet? Why did he save you?"

            I shrugged. "I don't know. But he... he knew my name," I answered uneasily.

            "What?" my mother asked.

            "He kept calling me Violet. Somehow he knew who I was," I told them, looking down at the scratchy hospital blanket. The fact that he knew my name still scared me. If he really was a bad guy and not a hero like I hoped, it meant I was in big trouble. The villain knew my name, and that never ended well.

            "How did he know your name? Have you met him before?" my mother asked, staring into my eyes with her piercing brown ones.

            I shook my head. "No. I'd never even seen him in real life before. But somehow he knew who I was. I don't know how. God, why does my leg keep twitching?" The continuous twitch was beginning to get on my nerves.

            My mother rubbed my upper arm soothingly. "The doctor says it's a symptom of shock. It'll wear off in an hour or two."

            I nodded and laid back against the pillows, closing my eyes. Thoughts ran through my head. Who was the Voiceless Stranger? How did he know my name? Why had he saved me when I had fallen? Was he the good guy I hoped he was?

            My mother continued to rub my upper arm; probably in the hope I'd fall asleep. I didn't know if my mother and father really believed me. They probably thought they were the babbling of a doped-up teenage girl on morphine. But I knew I wasn't. The Voiceless Stranger knew who I was.

            And I was determined to find out who he was, too.

            ~          *          ~

            They let me out the next afternoon, after my parents had to sign a flurry of release forms. They tried to shove me into a wheelchair, but got the gist after I argued with the doctor for fifteen minutes. The Voiceless Stranger had saved me from any accidents. I was okay. I didn't need a wheelchair to get around.

            When we made it home, I fell onto my bed gratefully and grabbed my phone from the nightstand.

            There was one missed call from Chloe, and I opened it slowly, afraid of what she'd be saying. "Violet, where are you? We missed you during practice. Second day of school and you're already skipping? Call me when you get this. I'm worried."

            I quickly called her back and explained what happened.

            "What?" she squeaked once I'd finished. "You went to the hospital and you didn't tell me?"

            "Well, I didn't exactly have a phone on me," I replied. "I'm fine. I'm not even hurt; it was just a mandatory evaluation."

            "How'd it happen?"

            "Well, I fell off my roof," I said, blushing slightly. It sounded so idiotic to put it into words and say it out loud.

            "You fell of your own roof, and you're not hurt?" she said dubiously, and I could almost see the doubtful look on her face.

            "I got saved," I answered in a quiet voice, picking at a loose thread on the comforter.

            "Saved? Vi, what are you talking about? You're not making any sense."

            "The Voiceless Stranger," I said, throwing my hands into the air in exasperation. "I fell off my roof, and The Voiceless Stranger saved me."

            "What?" she said, so loud that I had to take the phone away from my ear so that she didn't puncture my eardrum. "The Voiceless Stranger? And you're still alive?"

            "I told you, Chloe. He saved me."

            "But... he's the bad guy. He almost killed a guy, Violet."

            "I know," I replied. "I don't know, Chlo. All I know that I fell off a roof and he saved me before I fell. It was the strangest thing." I looked out the window to the dimly lit street two stories below. One I would have been splattered on had the Voiceless Stranger not saved me. "But I don't think he's bad, Chloe. I think he's one of the good ones."

            "What did he look like?" she asked, her journalistic side coming out.

            "I don't know," I replied, tucking some of my brown locks behind my ear. "Just what you see in the tabloids. He was wearing a mask and a black leather suit."

            "Well, did you at least see his face close up?" she replied relentlessly.

            I pursed my lips, recalling last night on the roof. "Yeah. He was tanned, clean-shaven... um... he had nice teeth."

            "Great," Chloe replied tiredly, letting out a sigh. "Now we just have to find a tanned guy who shaves and has nice teeth. How hard can that possibly be? Did you at least see how old he might've been?"

            "Um," I said, nibbling on my bottom lip. "Maybe around twenty? Twenty-one? I don't know, it was kinda hard to see, Chloe. I was a little busy falling off a roof."

            "Right, sorry," she said apologetically. "Here you are trying to recover from falling off a roof and I'm peppering you with questions. Sorry, Vi."

            "Don't worry about it," I answered. "Did I miss anything today?"

            "We have our first pep rally in two weeks," she said. "Courtney's got us working hard, Vi."

            Courtney was our blonde-haired, blue-eyed cheerleading captain, and she fit basically every stereotype imaginable. I didn't really like her that much, but she was someone I had to put up with if I had any hope of completing my senior year on the cheerleading squad. It was a small sacrifice to make, all things considered.

            "We can do it," I replied enthusiastically. "But don't worry, I'll be back tomorrow. I'm fit as a fiddle and ready to practice."

            "Okay," she said uncertainly. "As long as you're feeling okay."

            "I'm fine," I replied, giving a small smile despite the fact she couldn't see it. "I'll be okay."

            ~          *          ~

            As I went downstairs to check on dinner, I saw my mom flitting through the kitchen, running her hands through her hair as she searched for something.

            "Come on," she muttered. "Damn it."

            "Mom, what's wrong?" I asked.

            She looked back with a sigh. "I'm trying to make dinner, but we're out of milk. I can't make mashed potatoes without milk."

            "Can't you substitute sour cream?" I replied.

            She gave me a pointed look. "When have we ever had sour cream in this house?"

            She raised a good point. We didn't really eat anything that had sour cream in it, and I despised the taste of it. Who would want to eat cream that had gone sour? Not me, that's for sure. That and seafood were my least favorite edibles.

            "I can run down to the store and get some," I offered. The store was only a fifteen-minute walk, and it was pretty safe in our neighborhood. Not to mention the fact it wasn't even dark yet. It was only dusk.

            "You've been through a lot," my mother said, nibbling contemplatively on her lower lip. "I don't wanna make you go out. You just got back from the hospital."

            I laughed. "Mom, I told you. I wasn't injured. I'm totally fine. I'm not an invalid. I have two legs, so I can go."

            "Are you sure?"

            I nodded. "Definitely. I'll be back in half-an-hour."

            "Wait, hon," she said, running to her money jar and handing me a five dollar note. "That should cover it. Keep the change."

            I kissed her softly on the cheek and smiled at her. "Thanks, Mom. I'll be back."

            "Bye," she said.

            I walked out of my front door, keeping the change in my back pocket as I made my way down the streets. Summer was only just finished, so it was still warm out here, and the sun was painting the sky in hues of violet. Fitting, I thought to myself.

            I made it to the convenience store in good time, and purchased the milk. I talked for a little while with the girl who was working the front desk; a girl I was a good friend with from school, Jodie.

            "I'll see you at school?" she asked when the next customer stepped up to the desk to be served, holding a packet of corn chips and a bottle of soda.

            "Yeah," I replied. "See you."

            She waved timidly, and I exited the convenience store and out into the warm winds. I held the cold bottle of milk to my chest and kept my head down, focusing on not stepping on the cracks in the pavement. I was kind of superstitious; I didn't like black cats, I didn't walk under ladders, and I didn't like stepping on cracks. But when you're in central New York, it's almost impossible not to step on a crack at least once. This pavement had been around since the thirties. After years of wear and tear, most of it was just spider-webbing cracks.

            For a Wednesday night, it was quite deserted out here for seven at night, with only a few people around. I kept my head low, though. One thing I've learnt from my whole life in New York is to never make eye contact.

            Just as I was beginning to enter my dangerous neighborhood, I heard footsteps behind me. My throat immediately closed up, and my heart pounded in my chest. I slowly spun around, feeling a burst of courage make its way through me, and turned around to face the person there.

            But no one was there.

            I searched my surroundings slowly, perusing each available hiding space, but came up short. I wasn't normally so paranoid, but it was almost fully dark now in the bad part of New York; not somewhere you wanted to be. Especially not when you're a seventeen-year-old girl.

            I slowly turned back around and changed up the tempo of my steps every few meters, just so that I'd catch someone if they were attempting to match my footsteps and remain hidden.

            I let out a scream as suddenly someone appeared next to me. "You know, I've already saved your life once. Do you think it's a good idea to walk around here alone at night?"

             I turned to stare at the newcomer with wide eyes. Standing there was none other than The Voiceless Stranger, wearing the same black leather suit and mask that obstructed his face.

            "What are you doing here?" I whispered, staring at him wide-eyed.

            "What do you think?" he replied, a smirk upturning his mouth. "I'm just making sure no one tries to kill you."

            I cocked an eyebrow. "Why? Normally you only come in when someone is getting killed."

            "Let's just say you're special," he answered after a moment's pause. "You know, you gave me quite a scare when you fell off that roof last night. Not your most delicate moment."

            "Shut up," I replied, blushing. One of my most annoying traits was the fact hat I easily blushed. If I was embarrassed, bam, I blushed. If a guy talked to me, I went into full out tomato mode. It was not good. "But... thank you," I whispered, looking down. "For saving me."

            He looked at me strangely, and I frowned. "What?"

            He shook his head. "Oh, nothing," he dismissed.

            "No, tell me," I replied, searching his face for answers. He had piqued my interest, and I was curious.

            "It's just... no one's ever thanked me before," he muttered, keeping his eyes downcast and muttering it as if it were a secret.

            "Really?" I asked, raising my eyebrows in surprise. That seemed a little hard to believe. "But you've saved so many lives."

            "I'm the bad guy, remember?" he replied, his plump lips quirking up into an adorable little smile, though I could see the twist of a grimace in the set of his lips.

            "Well, I don't believe that," I whispered, staring up at him. "You're not the bad guy. You saved my life. I know there's nothing I could ever do to repay you..."

            "Well, there is one thing..." he replied, and I looked up at him with a frown.

            "What?"

            He sighed. "Well, your town seems to have made up a name for me. 'The Voiceless Stranger?'" I nodded along, wondering where he was going with this. "Yeah, well, I don't like that very much. Not exactly manly. I prefer The Black Phoenix. Much more masculine, don't you think?"

            "What are you getting at?" I replied.

            "Can you just spread the word that your friendly neighborhood villain doesn't like the name you gave him?" he replied. "The Black Phoenix will do just fine."

            I smiled slightly. It was surreal to think right now I was having a conversation with a guy with freaking superpowers about his superhero name. I'd never realized heroes actually cared about that kind of thing. "Okay," I replied, letting out a laugh. "I guess I can do that."

            He grinned. "Perfect."

            He looked just about ready to leave, but I couldn't let him go just yet. I didn't know if I'd ever see him again, and my journalistic side was calling out for me. "Wait!" I called.

            He turned back around. "Yeah?"

            "What can I call you?" I replied.

            "What do you mean?" he asked, frowning.

            "Well, I mean, do you have a name?" I asked, looking around awkwardly, unsure how to phrase it.

            "Ah," he answered, catching on to what I was trying to say.

            "Well?"

            "What makes you think I'd tell you?"

            "B-Because," I said, stumbling for an answer. "I just... I..."

            He grinned. "Maybe one day," he told me mysteriously, and I could see him drop me a wink through the mask.

            "Oh, come on," I replied, rolling my eyes. "Nothing?"

            "I'll see you soon, Violet," he replied, turning away from me. "For some reason I have the feeling you're the kind of girl who will need saving quite a lot."

            Before I had a chance to deny those claims, he had disappeared. That was it. One second he was there, and the next he was gone, as if he'd never been there in the first place and it had all been a figment of my imagination. I searched my surroundings, but he wasn't anywhere to be seen. With a frown, I turned around and kept walking, shoving my hands into my pockets and keeping my head down.

            Once I was a little ways away, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and dialed the second number on my Speed Dial. She picked up on the third ring, her voice sounding mildly distracted.

            "Violet?"

            "Hey, Chloe," I replied. "Do you still wanna find out who the Voiceless Stranger is?"

            "Yeah," she answered, sounding like she was paying more attention to the conversation now. "Why?"

            "Because," I said, looking around to make sure the man in question wasn't lurking in the shadows anywhere. "So do I. We'll start tomorrow. Let's catch ourselves a superhero."