Chapter 1: Pilot
She lifted up the heavy box with ease and shoved it inside the trunk, “That’s about it,” she commented as she slammed down the back door.
The younger woman who was loading the car turned around to look at the older woman standing nearby. “Look at you now, all grown up and moving out already,” the older woman mused.
“Not yet, I'm sleeping in Alex’s spare bedroom. I doubt that still counts as moving out.”
“You're sharing the rent with her, that counts. Anyway, drive safely, call me when you see Alex, and most of all, relax. The doctors overseeing your interview won’t have Kryptonite, you’ll be fine, you’re not the first MD in the family after all.”
“I will, but I’ll miss your cooking the most. A three-week-break after graduating medical school, and I’m already spoiled,” she smiled.
“Then visit more often, although I know the first year of residency is always a tough transition.”
“I'll see you at Thanksgiving,” she replied as they hugged. The younger woman climbed into the car. She opened the window and waved while driving down the driveway and drove out of sight.
Midvale was a modest sized town of around twenty thousand, an hour’s drive north of downtown National City (NC), and was considered by many as a suburb of NC. It was usually more crowded in the summertime as many people took advantage of the sunny California weather and Midvale’s stunning beaches. It was a nice place to grow up in. And she would miss it dearly, but the city and its opportunities awaited her.
She wove through the streets of the small town and arrived at the junction with the highway. The highway was a scenic route by the coast. The sun shone brightly as usual, the light made the sea shimmer as the waves lapped against the bottom of the cliffs many feet down.
It was the end of July, the roads were void of people, as many had either already arrived at their vacation destinations, or had decided to stay home. Her car passed the expressway smoothly without any congestion, it was overall, a smooth, relaxing drive.
But it was too early to come to conclusions. By the time she arrived within the borders of what was considered downtown National City, it was rush hour. Apparently, staying behind to eat that last slice of pie would be the cause, even though Eliza had given her a whole extra one to take with her to enjoy later. It was then she knew why Alex had chosen a motorbike, it was easier to weave through the traffic when she was in a hurry, and Alex Danvers was not famous for being a patient person.
So, stopping at various red lights and looked around her, the surroundings were drastically different. As a child, she only went out to National City every once every few weeks; and she had gone to college and med school in Los Angeles, and thus wasn’t that familiar with the city. Google Maps was a godsend, and she arrived at Alex’s apartment a fifteen minutes after five.
As she parked her car by the curb, in front of the familiar apartment building, she picked up her phone and hit a 2 on her speed dial, “Hey, Alex I'm downstairs now.”
She heard the clinking of keys and the door open, and footsteps. Minutes later, a young woman with auburn hair just past her shoulders walked through a pair of double glass doors, and headed over to the driver’s window of the parked car.
She knocked on the glass, and the blonde driver opened the door and stepped out. She wrapped the brunette in a tight embrace, “Air, Kara, air.”
“I’m so sorry,” she rambled as she released Alex from the hug, “I’m just so glad to see you! We haven't had a sister might in ages!”
Alex laughed, “I’m glad to see you too, now let me lead you down to the parking, there’s enough space for both your car and my bike,” she got into the passenger seat as the the car drove into the basement parking lot.
Kara followed Alex’s directions and drove over to the parking space, where Alex got out and drove her bike to the empty space right next to it. Kara parked the car and they went over to the trunk, where they (mostly Kara) unloaded the few boxes she had from the car and piled them inside the elevator lobby, where they waited. They pushed the boxes inside the elevator, and pushed the button to the twentieth floor, and while Alex held the door, Kara pushed the boxes out, and in front of unit 20A. Alex unlocked the door and the two of them entered the apartment.
“Seriously, Alex, how can you afford this place? There’s this amazing view with a balcony,” Kara waved her arms at the floor to ceiling window on the opposite side of the room. The room was a living-dining room with a clean and modern, yet still homey decor type. It suited its owner.
“My job pays double yours, it also has less working hours,” Alex deadpanned.
“Yeesh, way to rub that in,” Kara muttered, rubbing her arm to make a point.
They brought the boxes inside the apartment and left it in the living room as Alex led Kara as a tour of the apartment, “This is the kitchen, the two doors inside, one leads to the washer and dryer, the other’s the pantry.” Then they went down the hallway where Alex pointed at the four doors, “Study, powder room, my room, across the hall’s yours.”
“Thanks,” she opened the door to reveal a bed without the sheets and pillowcases. There was again, a ceiling to floor window, a closet to one side, and a door leading to an en-suite. The blonde fired up her powers, and started unpacking her belongings, within minutes she was done. Her clothes were hung in the closet, put in folded piles in her drawer, and her bed was made. In the bathroom, her toothbrush was in a cup by the sink and her toiletries were placed nearly on the shelf in the shower.
Then she dashed out, grabbing the vacuum from the storage room, and started clearing the mess she made while unpacking, and ended up doing a full deep clean of the entire apartment. She put everything away and walked out into the living room, and Alex sat on one of the sofas, glaring at her with a pointed look, the television forgotten in the background. “The place hasn’t been this clean in months,” she remarked.
“I’m a doctor, if it were up to me, this place would be as sterile as an OR, but I also like the windows open, ventilation is good for preventing airborne diseases. Compromises have to be made,” Kara replied with a smile, sitting beside the woman she was proud to call her sister.
They wrapped their arms around each other and turned to the television, which was tuned into a musical that both of them liked.
The next day, she woke up early at five, and did her usual multitasking morning routine. That included brushing her teeth, then sprinting to the kitchen to prepare and have her breakfast, then returning to her room to pick out her clothes and then taking a shower.
She walked out of the steamy bathroom and dressed herself in the black skirt suit and plain white blouse, donning no jewelry except her mother’s necklace, and a pair of simple silver earrings. Slipping on a pair of black heels, she grabbed her bag, and her chain of keys by the door, she strode out the apartment, head held high. Today was going to be a good day, she was sure of that.
Chapter 2: First Blood
Today's the test, if she gets to be a doctor or not.
I’ll say this, I’m still a high schooler (as of August 2018), So don’t believe any of the medicine you hear here. I’ll try to make it as accurate as possible, but you’ll get the regular dose of Hollywood drama. I consult with my dad (actual doctor), and I also volunteer at my local hospital, so I’m basing it of that, accompanied by as much research as I can do. I’ve altered some parts of the Supergirl TV and comic canon, but so much that it affects the main plot.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
There were three reasons she left early that morning, one was to beat the morning rush hour traffic, the other was to prepare herself. Physically, emotionally, psychologically. The last one was to observe her surrounding and to have ample time in case of mishaps. So she took the earliest possible bus through the mostly empty streets of National City and arrived at the hospital nearly an hour before her supposed appointment time. Bracing for the characteristic hospital chill, she pulled her jacket closer and held onto her bag.
Walking through the glass automatic doors, she passed by hallway with and into a large open room which had gurneys in cubicles partitioned off by curtains, and to another side, glass walled rooms with more sophisticated looking equipment such as ventilators and defibrillators. In the center of the room was a circular counter, where people in white coats and scrubs stopped either to drop off documents, to look at records, or to talk to the people working there. She had entered the emergency room, and her stomach was flipping in excitement.
A woman wearing a set of blue scrubs holding a tablet walked up to her, after seeing her wandering around, looking at everything, “Ma’am, is there anything we can do for you?”
“Nothing, thanks,” Kara mumbled as she looked around in awe, but a moment later she realised what they had asked her, and she ran after the woman, “Actually I do need some help, do you know where the residency interviews are being conducted?”
The nurse, now that she could see her name and titles embroidered on her clothes, visibly tensed up, and beamed at her with a forced smile, “You see those stairs, the ones you passed on the way in,” she pointed to a hallway leading to a large foyer, which had a set of stairs leading upwards, “just follow them, and you’ll see signs put up, it’s on the second floor.”
“Thank you so much,” Kara replied, clasping her hands together and frantically nodding her head.
She smiled as she headed down the hallway to the stairs in the foyer, hearing the nurse mutter, “Great, another entitled, egotistical, young doctor.”
She walked up the stairs, looking down at the crowds of people in the entrance hall. There were people sitting on the chairs just talking, and overhearing their conversations, she sensed multiple themes, consolation, gossip, relief. Then there were people just passing through from the different buildings, some were being pushed in wheelchairs, some were holding onto IV poles, others were wearing white coats and scurrying around, tapping away at their standard issue tablets. Other than the difference in decor, it was much fancier here, the atmosphere seemed exactly the same as her medical school’s hospital.
She continued up the stairs, and just as the nurse said, was met with a sign that said, “Residency Interviews, This way →”, following it, she arrived at a room with matte-glass walls, and entered into it. Seeing some chairs laid out, she sat on an unoccupied one and took out her phone, sending a quick text to Alex to tell her that she had arrived and not to worry. After that, she began to turn to her smartphone, as she still had plenty of time before her actual interview at ten-fifteen. She started reviewing the information she had prepared beforehand, such as the most common questions and how she would respond, but that soon turned into playing phone games.
She was on her seventh round of FIFA when she heard the clacking of shoes against the vinyl flooring, and felt someone sit down next to her. In all honesty, she didn't like it and inwardly scowled at the person as there were plenty of other seats available. She finished her game and looked up from her phone.
A woman wearing a dark slim-fitting dress and a colorful blazer sat next to her, she gave Kara what looked like a sinister glare and continued reading one of the magazines that someone had put out for them in the clean looking conference room. Kara returned her glare and tapped open Real Racing.
The woman went in before her, as per her time slot, and, Kara was left back alone in the room. She went over to the camera app, and took a photo of her surroundings, posting it on social media, tagging it geographically to National City and wrote the caption: If all goes well, I’m moving here permanently #JobInterview
It was after she had posted the image that she saw the previous woman strut down the corridor through the glass wall. A few minutes later, at exactly ten fifteen as she had been told, someone knocked on the door, and opened it, “Kara Danvers, ten fifteen, please follow me,” said a young man with a sheet of paper and a pen.
Kara stuffed her phone in her pocket, picked up her bag and scurried after the man. He led her to the conference room next door, “Good luck, you need it,” he pat her on the shoulder and opened the door for her.
It was now or never. Channeling her courage like her cousin before the fight with Lex Luthor, she entered the room, her step confident, her head held high, her usual sunny, megawatt smile appearing on her face.
Inside the room, the tables were arranged in a U shape so that the interviewee was surrounded by all the interviewers in the center of the room. She walked up to the center, and placed her bag on the floor, straightening herself, she faced the first person, which just so happened to be a red-haired woman in a suit, she spoke first, “I’m Shay Veritas, director of emergency medicine, and this is Charles McNimer,” she gestured to a graying man with thick glasses, “the chief of surgery, the other board members might ask you questions, but it’s mostly the two of us that are going to be leading the interview.” Kara nodded, and Dr. Veritas continued, “If you don’t mind this being cliche, I would like to ask how you why you chose medicine as a career.”
Kara stopped and pondered on the answer that she had rehearsed in her mind a million times, it didn’t seem right though, so she went with her gut instinct instead. “Well, this might sound like a reality television worthy tragic backstory, but my best friend was murdered, and I couldn’t do anything, it’s not like I could catch a bullet with my bare hands,” without revealing myself to the world , “but I sometimes felt like, I could have just saved him, if I knew what to do, now I know, don’t remove the bullet, put pressure on the wound, stop the bleeding, do chest compressions if a pulse isn't found, et cetera, but back then I was a panicking teenager and he didn’t make it. I can still remember his blood on my hands. It took weeks to track down the actual killer, but even today, I feel like I was the one killed him because I did nothing. He wanted to be a doctor, and it kind of rubbed off. I chose medicine so nobody would have to be in my shoes and lose another person dear to them, if I could prevent it.”
Dr Veritas and Dr McNimer sat there, poker face on, typing things on a laptop, but some of the other interviewers weren’t so stoic and were actually not-so-discreetly wiping off tears. “So, next question, why did you choose to work here in National City, and in this hospital specifically?”
The question was easy to Kara, and she quickly replied with the answer she had prepared beforehand, “I’m from Midvale, which is just about an hour up the coast, the nearest city is NC, here, so in a way, this place is home to me. I also chose this particular hospital just because of the amount of innovation that’s going on here, especially you Dr. McNimer. You don’t mind being a little risky and doing some experimentation if you think it’s going to work, I remember you giving a guest lecture at UCLA on combining three-d printing and stem cell research, I attended it. And because I was a computer science major, it hit very close to home. I have lots to learn from everyone at this particular hospital, and it would be a dream to be a part of this.”
Dr Veritas continued, “Now, we’ll continue to some more technical, clinical question, and I expect you to answer truthfully and honestly, now what would you do for an appendectomy?”
“Um,” she pondered as she started visualizing the insides of a human abdomen.
Kara walked out of the room relieved, she wrapped her arms around her torso as she leaned against the wall in the corridor, her head was cocked backwards, so that she had a view of the ceiling. All those sleepless nights, sitting in front of her desk studying, and ending up graduating medical school early, it was all worth it. For the third time in her life, her world was changing. She sent a quick text to Alex.
kara-ze-d : :) got the job
Alex-danvers: we celebrate, on me tonight
Heading down to Human Resources, she stopped by the bathroom first to fix up her appearance for her photo to be taken, and waving her credentials, was ushered over to a stool in front of a plain wall. Someone came over, with a camera, “Smile, say cheese.”
But before he could press the button, another person shouted, “Wait!” And a white coat was draped over her shoulders. She immediately shrugged off her suit jacket underneath and put on the coat properly, making sure there were no creases. She smiled into the lens as the shutter closed, and her appearance was recorded.
“Jesus, you are ridiculously photogenic,” murmured the photographer, “I haven’t seen such a good looking picture in a long time,”
Kara blushed, as she packed up her things. She was handed a large plastic bag, “Inside there’s seven sets of scrubs, one for every day of the week, and two lab coats,” explained the person at the counter, “and here’s your ID, freshly printed,” handing her the card, “You want a lanyard?”
“Oh, yes please, thank you!” she smiled as she was given a red and blue one.
She put it away, and picked up the bag, going out the door, passing through the hospital buildings and the crowds of people, finally arriving at the main entrance leading towards Lister Street.
It was then when she finally decided to take a good look at the city she was going to live in for the foreseeable future. Unlike LA, where there was still older style architecture lying around, National City’s aesthetic was all steel, concrete and glass, reminding Kara of her extraterrestrial origins. But she was brought back to Earth by her stomach rumbling, otherwise jokingly referred as “peristalsis driven borborygmi” by her fellow classmates in med school.
Walking down the streets of downtown, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and grilling meat led her to a restaurant called Noonan’s. Stepping inside, she noticed that it was the type of quick stop coffee shop that people would stop by on their way to work, and now for their lunch breaks, serving a wide clientele a wide variety of dishes. She found an empty booth within the chaos, and placed her bag on the seat to reserve it, she took her phone and wallet and waited in line to order.
She scanned the menu behind the counter, and as soon as she was called up to the front, she placed her order, “One spiced pumpkin latte with foam and extra cinnamon, with one of those cheeseburger meals please, sans pickles.”
“May I have your name?” asked the waiter, as he wrote on the disposable paper placemat.
“Kara, that’s K-A-R-A,” she replied, as the waiter wrote it down.
“Okay, that’ll be fifteen dollars, thank you,” and she forked over the money, silently reminding herself that she had to visit the bank to change her address later. “Just wait for your name.”
And she headed back over to her seat, giving glances at the counter, when her name was called out fifteen minutes later.
She squeezed through the crowd of people and holding out her receipt, exchanged it with her tray of food. Now walking back to her table, she was swept into a hug by someone, it took her by surprise that she almost spilled her lunch.
She turned her head around so quickly that it might as well have given her whiplash, and was met with a familiar face, “Winn!” she exclaimed. She led him over to her table, and bisecting her burger and giving half of it to him. She moved the basket of fries over to the center as he picked up a fry and dipped it into the ketchup.
“So, how’ve you been all these years, haven’t seen you since college,” Winn breaks the silence, his brown eyes bright and gleaming like they were four years ago, his hair still teased-up and tousled. It felt to so familiar, like no time had past.
“Survived med school, so that’s something , right?”
Winn turned to her with a pointed look, “I mean seriously, what did you do for four years?”
“Well, you know, the usual, wake up, study, go to class, um, I also started writing for a few online publications, freelancing. After all, medical student and computer science major? You don’t get a lot of those.”
“Oh yeah! I remember you texting me that you wrote an article for your friend’s blog or something, and it trended on social media for a while, you’ve got a gift with words, if you aren’t a doctor, I’d suggest be a journalist,” remarked Winn.
“Well, I do prefer the problem solving aspect of medicine over just reporting the truth,” Kara laughed, “remember how I went crazy over the crossword?”
Winn began to laugh as he remembered Kara throwing a tantrum over what ten-down was in the library, a copy of the dictionary beside her, and not the pocket edition. He took a bite out of his half of the burger, when he heard someone yell, “Don’t move!”
He choked, as Kara turned her head towards the door, fry with ketchup half-stuffed in her mouth. Someone screamed.
“Empty your pockets! I want to see all wallets, phones, jewelry!” hollered a man dressed in a black hoodie with the hood, a pair of black pants, wearing a black beanie. He had a pistol pointed at the diners and the people waiting for their food.
Another man dressed in a similar way, this time brandishing a semi entered, “Place your hands where I can see them!”
Diners, wait staff and kitchen staff quickly did as they were told, and all cooking stopped. The scraping of utensils against plates stopped.
The gunmen went from table to table, and one of them stopped in front of the point of sale. He pointed the barrel of the gun at the college student working his summer job, and the boy swiped his employee card.
“STOP! You don’t want to do this!” Someone yelled, and everyone turned their heads towards the voice. A man, quite muscular, wearing just a shirt and slacks was staring at the robber, his hand stretched out, as if wanting to receive the firearm.
“Come any closer and I’ll shoot!” yelled the gunman.
“You really don’t want to do this, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life,” explained the man, enunciating each of his words, saying them slowly. He took a step closer to the gunman and Kara felt a feeling of dread in her gut.
“I’m going to shoot if you come any closer!” yelled the gunman.
The next few moments were in a blur. The waiter handed over wads of bills, and the man in the button-up stepped even closer to the gunman. A few gunshots were fired, glass shattered, and now the man was lying on the ground, hemorrhaging.
“Shit!” “Fuck!” “Oh my god!” “Someone call 911!”
In the corner of her eye, Kara saw a swat team outside of the restaurant, ready to enter. And they did, arresting the two gunmen, a small crowd at emerged around the injured man.
Kara pulled her way to the front, “I’m a doctor,” she remarked, as she squinted, activating her X-ray vision behind her titanium frames, “Fractured ribs, open fracture, oblique,” she murmured and ripped open his shirt, pressing down on his chest, with two of her fingers. She felt the familiar swirl of liquid and a lack of breathing, “punctured lung, fluids are building up,” she continued under her breath. “Does anyone have a blade, around three to four inches in length? Rubbing alcohol or some sort of spirit? Bendy straws?” she asked the crowd around her.
“Nobody?” she asked again.
“We should have some in the kitchen,” replied one of the waiters. Following him into the back, Kara took the chance to wash her hands and put on a pair of disposable rubber gloves. The cops gave her enough space to carry out the impromptu surgery.
She received the things from the kitchen
She knelt down beside the man. She rinsed between the second and third rib under the clavicle and the sharp fruit knife she was given and began to cut.
People around her gasped as a little trickle of blood leaked out.
After making the incision, she stuck a straw into his chest, and immediately she saw him take a breath, fluid oozed out of the straw. Asking for some tape and a glass of water, she taped his other wounds shut for the moment so he didn't lose any more blood, if she took out the bullet now, he wouldn’t make it. That could wait until he actually entered the OR at the nearest facility. Then using the bendy end of the straw, bent it so that whatever leaked out leaked into the water, effectively preventing it from leaking back into the thoracic cavity.
It was then that the paramedics arrived with a stretcher. Kara rattled off what she knew to them, “GSW to the torso, he's lost at least two pints, needs transfusions, fractured ribs and punctured lung. I've relieved some fluid build up, but he needs surgery.”
“Thanks,” replied the paramedic, his colleague pushed the man into an ambulance, but he stayed behind, “Just for reference, can I have some of your name?”
“Dr. Kara Danvers, I’m a new surgical resident at National City Southbank Hospital,” she said as she gave him her driver’s license and brand new ID, smiling with pride.
He took some notes and gave her the signal that she was free to go.
She discarded her gloves in a nearby trash can and walked back towards her seat, continuing to eat her lunch.
Winn stared back at her, “You’re covered in blood,” he deadpanned.
“Cons of the job,” Kara replied.
“That was badass,” he continued, “you’re like Superman, if he knew first aid.”
Kara laughed, noting the hidden truth of what he said, and took a sip of her drink, “Well, I was an EMT in college.”
The two of them finished as they walked out the restaurant, which then, they were swept aside by an officer asking for their statement.
So that’s the first sign of action. Don’t actually do what is stated here if you actually see someone get shot. Instead, just call an ambulance. On a side note, you won’t see frequent updates, getting into medical school is my first priority, this comes second.
Chapter 3: Right Place, Right Time
I’m actually from Hong Kong, so if I get anything about the American medical system, or just anything American wrong, don’t blame me, drop a comment, and tell me what to correct. I try to do as much research as possible, but you can’t find everything using Google. Also, just for timeline references, this is still pre-Pilot, in fact, Alex isn’t even a DEO agent yet.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Her laptop was opened to various social media sites. There was this livestream that was trending on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter. It had already amassed millions of shares, retweets and reposts. She saw it and she had recognized where it was immediately.
She called, “MISS TESCHMACHER!”
Her young, millennial of an assistant scrambled into the glass-walled office. “Yes, Ms. Grant?”
“Call an editorial meeting. Immediately ,” she replied.
And Miss Teschmacher set off to do just that.
Moments later, there was a small group of people in the media conglomerate’s CEO’s fishbowl of an office. And she began to address them, first by showing them the video, “This happened just two blocks from here at a place many of you would recognize.”
“Noonan’s,” somebody breathed.
“Yes, and despite all the social medial sensation, there has not been a single news report yet. We are going to be the first. How are we going to frame this?”
“We could get the official report from the NCPD, and go from there,” someone replied.
”Very last decade, a video is more official than anything the cops hand. We need a headline to spin, something eye catching,” Ms. Grant drawled.
“Guy tries to stop a robbery and is gunned down,” a woman, Kelly, suggested.
“Too generic. What do you think, Hayden?”
“Hayashi,” the man instantly corrected, then knowing what he had done, blushing, continued, “Maybe something on the lines of everyday heroism. There’s a hero in every one of us?”
Ms. Grant hmm-ed with thought, when suddenly, just before her eyes, outside of the office, she saw two people talking at a desk. Normally, she wouldn’t bat an eye, but this time, she noticed blood stains on the woman’s sleeves. Plus the golden blond hair and glasses looked oh-so-familiar.
Then it clicked, the video from Noonan’s. That girl was the one who did the field surgery.
“Ask that hobbit in a cardigan and his four-eyed companion to come in,” she drawled, nonchalantly.
Eve Teschmacher scampered out of the room, and ran towards the two people.
Winn gave Kara a fist-bump, as the two of them exited the elevator onto the twenty-third floor. They followed the constant stream of people coming back from their lunch breaks until they arrived in front of Winn’s desk.
Kara looked around the place, it was so similar to their lab area back at college, yet so different. It was just a cubicle, no space for them to build and code the random robotics projects that they did as homework and for fun. But it still had the Winn Aesthetic as she called in her mind, that being the action figures that he collected and used to decorate his desk. “Hey, do you remember this?” she held up a little figurine of a blond man in a white tunic holding a lightsaber, “we drove down to San Diego for Comic-Con back during junior year, and because you were dressed as Luke, I bought you this,” she waved it in front of him.
“Yeah, that was the first time at Comic-Con. I don’t know how you pulled off your cosplay, the fabric looked so alien, it’s unreal,” he reminisced.
“Time, it was the good old days, before we were both swept into the busy world of work,” Kara smiled.
But musing about college days were cut short as a certain blonde personal assistant came running towards them, blurting out, “Miss Grant wants to see you, Winn, and bring your friend.”
The two of them blinked once, twice. And wordlessly followed Eve through the doors Winn had never dared go through.
Now standing in front of the Queen of All Media, despite being shorter than both young people (even Kara as they both were in heels) she exuded an aura of authority, of confidence, that commanded people’s respect. Leaning against her desk, she inspected the two of them, the other members of the reporting team watching intently like watching a ball game.
Miss Grant inspected both of them, “You look vaguely familiar, you work here, right?” she asked, pointing at Winn.
“Ye...yeah, right outside... in IT,” he stuttered out. She raised an eyebrow. But turned her glare to Kara instead.
“Have you been online in the past half an hour?”
“Um, I don’t think so, ma’am,” she replied, “I just had lunch.”
Cat eyed the young doctor even more intensely than before, but Kara wasn’t the least bit nervous, she had met that look during her rotations, particularly by relatives of patients.
“IT hobbit, go work your magic and show your friend the video.”
Winn was handed a tablet, and after his fingers flew over the screen, he handed it over to Kara, who watched what was on the screen intently, with wide eyes, remembering every second of it.
Around five minutes into the clip, Miss Grant interrupted Kara, and asked, “You see where this is going?”
Kara looked up at her, speechless. She shook her head, not knowing what she had to do with it, since for nearly a decade, she had been instructed to lay low. Right after that, she was shown a series of tweets, praising her and the man who got shot.
Nate Lewis @greatnate
Kudos to that guy, risking his life for others.
Henry Hernandez @hernandezha
the world needs more people like those two, standing up for what they think is right.
Jamie Zhang MS2 @scrubsorsuits
That doctor was so cool! It’s like something out of a movie, I’d like to be able to do that when I graduate medical school!
She gulped, knowing that if Alex saw this (she most likely did, who didn’t use a smartphone these days), she would get an earful when she got home, for being so exposed, as someone might figure out she had inhuman superpowers, such as that moment when she had used her X-ray vision. A field surgery done so smoothly and quickly for such a serious injury was not something that every doctor could do without the proper scans.
“I guess there’s more?” she asked, her voice shaking with nervousness, preparing to be bombarded with more stuff.
“Yes, there is more, I’ll leave the statistics to the actual article. Now, CatCo would like an interview, in fact I am writing the exclusive for this myself,” she stood up, and using a pen, lifted Kara’s chin so that she looked her in the eye, “and you, doctor, are the star of it.”
Kara shuffled her feet and stuffed her hands into her pockets, taking a step back, feeling uneasy. The others in the room seemed to feel the same as they fidgeted a little and she made a mental note to ask about it later.
Knowing that she had no choice, her negotiation skills were subpar compared to the most famous journalist in the city, she spoke, “Sure. When would you like it?”
“This is breaking news, so right now would be best,” Ms Grant drawled out.
Kara nodded, and Ms Grant began to clear the room (beckoning for her photographer to stay), ready to interview the city’s newest hero. If she could be referred to as such.
As soon as everyone had left, and it was just Kara, Ms Grant, and the art director James Olsen, they took their places on the two couches facing each other. The photographer hovering around doing his duty.
“Kara Danvers, it’s an honour to meet you, Ms Grant, I’ve read many of your articles growing up,” she stuck her hand out for Ms Grant to shake, but was met with a look of repulsion like it was dirty. Which it probably was.
Ms Grant gave a grin of pride, mostly at herself for being recognized, “Let’s get straight to the point, how long have been practicing medicine?”
Kara perked up, “Actually I just graduated medical school this summer, and just got accepted into a residency at NC Southbank. Technically I start this coming Monday, so zero years. But, if you count the rotations back in med school, then two years.”
“So this is one of your first surgeries?”
“Well, there was surgical rotation, but it was mainly shadowing the doctor, and see one, do one, teach one , that’s the phrase. And I'm still not qualified enough to actually hold the scalpel without supervision. Most actual job training is done during residency. My mentor was so kind to let me do a few simple procedures, though.”
“How did you feel, during the heist?”
“Just like everyone else, I guess, nervous, wanting to run out of that room. But knowing the risks, my mind was in conflict, I was, for the lack of a better description, paralyzed with fear, until the gun was fired, and they were arrested by the cops stationed right outside the restaurant. Then after finding out the guy got shot, my gut told me that I had to help somehow, that was the reason I became a doctor.”
“If anyone was in a similar situation, with someone shot in front of them, what would you advise?”
“If they’re a doctor, or have medical training and knowledge, to do the same thing as I did, and do what they know, if they’re not, then call 911, and let the professionals do their work, you might aggravate the situation, without knowing. Google isn't that reliable.”
Kara came out of the glass bowl, her palms were sweaty, and she was in desperate need of a drink, preferably alcoholic, although anything would do. All that talking made her thirsty. Eve handed her an ice cold bottle of water, “Thanks,” she took a large gulp, “Ah, I don’t know how she does it, it made me both comfortable yet stressful at the same time.”
Winn walked over, “Well, that’s Cat Grant for you.”
Now she had Alex to deal with. Thankfully, she wouldn’t know about the interview until at least tomorrow, when the article came out at its earliest.
Her bags were all hanging on her left shoulder, a weight she barely even felt, she used her right hand and dug out a set of keys from her pocket. Unlocking the front door, she headed over to her bedroom, where she set down her bags, then made a beeline for the bathroom. There was no way in hell she was having dinner with blood on her sleeves, no matter how badass that sounded.
She stripped off the soiled garments and threw them into the hamper. Stepping into the shower and turning on the water, she made a mental note to do her laundry soon as to not let the stains set in.
She scrubbed herself thoroughly, so no trace of what happened that afternoon was noticeable.
Turning off the water and stepping out, she dried herself and soon was found in front of the TV, on the sofa with a pint of freezing chocolate fudge brownie ice cream in her hand. She turned on Netflix, picking a movie she’d already watched before, while she waited for Alex to arrive home.
Slowly, she drifted off, what happened that day taking its toll on her,
She arrived just as the movie was rolling its credits, and Kara was asleep, spread across the couch, bundled up in bright red fleece throw. Alex sat down beside her, and brushed a lock of hair from between her eyes. Kara stirred underneath her touch, and she opened her eyes blearily, “You’re back,” she murmured.
“Yes I am, and somebody worked too hard again,” Alex replied.
“No, just didn’t get much sleep last night,” the younger murmured as she pulled herself into a sitting position.
“I knew it, you were gone before I had my coffee.”
“So, what’s for dinner tonight?”
Alex smiled, “We’re going out tonight, go find something nice but comfortable, you probably can’t drink for the next few weeks when you’re on shift.”
“Can’t affect me,” Kara laughed as she shrugged off the blanket and sped over to her bedroom, changing into a white blouse and skinny jeans. Slipping into a pair of black heeled boots and grabbing her blazer by the door, she followed Alex, who was wearing a leather jacket, and they took the elevator down to the basement.
As soon as they stepped out of the elevator, Alex went straight to straddle her motorbike, Kara leaned casually against her car, “We are taking my car, not your bike.”
Alex looked at her sister like she had grown another head, “What do you mean?”
“I can’t guarantee you staying upright if you drink way too much later,” she replied, leaning against the door, and then getting into the driver's seat.
“Give me the keys, you’re a horrible driver,” Alex loomed over the window.
“Unfortunately, I haven’t put you down on my insurance yet,” Kara smiled as her sister disgruntledly opened the shotgun and sat down.
As soon as the doors were closed, Kara stuck the key into the ignition and turned it. The engine revved, just as expected from the BMW coupe, and as she stepped on the pedals, it went forward.
The car made its way out of the garage safely and onto the sparse streets. It was already past rush hour, and most people were already at home enjoying their dinner, or out doing who-knows-what.
Alex directed Kara to where they were headed, as well as helped her find a parking space. After that, they headed inside the building adjacent to it. As soon as the door opened, a familiar smell wafted over to her nose. “Booking for two under Danvers,” Alex told the waiter at the entrance.
“This way ma’am,” he replied, showing them to a table near the window, he placed the menus on the table just as they sat down.
Kara took a look at it, and finally found the source of that familiar smell, “This is a Chinese restaurant,” she spoke, “are there potstickers here?”
Alex grinned and nodded, pointing at the menu, “Order anything you want, as I’ve said, this is on me.”
The waiter came a few minutes later as the sisters began to rattle off names of dishes with practised ease, Kara even began speaking in Mandarin, which surprised the young man, who was clearly an international student, studying in NC. In the end, the waiter walked away, giving them a look like they had clearly ordered what seemed like too much for two young women.
Which they probably did.
“So, how did you learn Chinese?” Alex broke the silence between the two.
“You know my ability to learn a language in a week? Like how I learnt English?” at Alex’s nod, Kara continued, “Way too many Chinese period dramas, Princess Agents was awesome, so was Nirvana in Fire. The outfits are so beautiful.”
Alex laughed, of course her little sister would find the flowy, silky costumes of ancient China beautiful. “Now, you have got to tell me what you have been up to since I last saw you during Christmas.”
“Well, there was studying for STEP 2,” she laughed, “I’m pretty sure you remember doing it, just three years earlier.”
Alex glared at her, “Nobody needs to be reminded of exams.”
“Then, during that three month window between finishing my exams and graduation, I ended up helping out at a few charity clinics, having fun with my friends and when my lease was done, I took a flight over to Metropolis and spent a few weeks with Clark, he introduced me to a few of his friends. We also took a brief trip down to Gotham, Clark has friends there. Then I went back for graduation, Eliza was there, after finishing, I spent a little more time with some friends, went back to Midvale for a few weeks, and here I am now.”
“Sounds like you did something fulfilling, I’d love to see photos someday,” Alex replied, after Kara had finished her rant.
“I do have some here somewhere,” she picked up her bag to find her phone, when suddenly the waiter appeared with a few dishes.
“Here’s your mapo tofu, shrimp scrambled eggs, sweet vinegared ribs and one serving of fried dumplings, otherwise known as potstickers,” he explained as he set down the plates, “The other dishes will be arriving fairly soon, as you can see, the table is packed.”
At the mention of food, Kara grinned wildly and picked up her chopsticks. She immediately spooned food into her bowl, and began wolfing it down like there was no tomorrow.
“You know, Mom would give you an earful, seeing your table manners right now,” Alex chimed in.
“Well, this stuff is delicious!” Kara snapped back pouting, then moments later, broke the mask and laughed, “You have excellent taste.”
“Who introduced you to everything you know about Earth?” Alex smirked.
“Eliza, Jeremiah, Clark,” she grinned cheekily.
“You were such a brat when I first met you,” Kara deadpanned.
Alex made a move to swat her sister on the shoulder, but instead, Kara leaned backwards, just out of reach, hands full with her bowl and chopsticks, and began to shovel food into her mouth.
The waiter came back with the bill, Alex handed him her credit card, and didn’t even blink an eye at the receipt, knowing her sister’s appetite, and the fact that this was a celebration.
After they had paid, leaving a decent tip, the sisters left the restaurant. “Leave the car where it is, I’m taking you somewhere fun.”
Kara cocked an eyebrow, knowing that Alex’s idea of fun usually meant partying until sunrise, or until she passed out, whichever came first, but she went with it. Alex usually meant well, after all. And indeed, they walked a few blocks from the restaurant to a street lit with neon lights, and bustling with people. Nightclubs, she noticed. Alex led her into one of them, The Anti-Gravity Lounge, she noticed the name. There were two bouncers standing at each side of the entrance, as she followed Alex inside, one of them put an arm in front of her stopping her from entering. “ID please.”
Kara blinked, her eyes widened, “Oh!” she exclaimed, and started rummaging through her handbag for her drivers’ license. She handed it to the man, an he inspected it thoroughly, back and front.
“There you go,” he muttered as he finally let Kara loose into the crowd of people. Stepping into the club, the first thing that she noticed was the loud music, in fact, she had noticed that even before she entered it. Her senses having picked up the distinct beat of EDM when they were at the beginning of the street already.
The second thing she noticed, was that Alex was nowhere to be seen, she was lost somewhere in the crowd. Oh well, she was always the one who went to parties back during high school, the social butterfly of them two.
She walked into the club and headed towards the bar. Even though alcohol didn’t affect her, it seemed to deter people from actually talking to her. But apparently, she spoke too early.
She sipped her penicillin as she scanned behind the bar for the different types of alcoholic drinks when a man, probably a few years her senior sat down next to her. “Excuse me, I’d like a Manhattan please,” he asked the bartender. The man behind the bar got to work, expertly blending bourbon, sweet vermouth and bitters into mixing glass and then finally straining it into a cocktail glass. “Thanks,” smiled the dark-haired man as he received his drink.
The man took a gulp out of the glass, and his smile widened. He turned to Kara, “You don’t look like the type of person that goes clubbing?”
“And you don’t look like the type of person that drinks bourbon,” she retorted. Then she burst out into giggles, as his face transitioned from a smile, to confusion, to shock, then to disbelief.
He took another sip of his Manhattan as Kara sipped hers. “Actually, my sister’s the clubbing type, not me. Just tagged along. I’m Kara Danvers, by the way.”
“Pieter Cross. Now, may offer the lovely Miss Danvers a dance?” he stretched out his hand.
Laughing, Kara finished up her drink and the two of them headed towards the dance floor.
The music switched to a familiar tune, the crowd started to stir up as Zedd’s latest track started to blast through the speakers.
They started bobbing, and slowly that transitioned into swaying, Kara even pulled off a few of the moves she had learnt back in high school. The waving, the fancy footwork, spins. She did all of that.
Pieter did his best to keep up, but apparently Kara Danvers’ dance moves were not for the average person to keep up with. After around five different songs, he was exhausted, and had to go back to the bar to catch his breath. Kara followed him back.
“You’re good,” he muttered, “You’re one heck of a dancer,” he turned to the bartender, “Um, can I have one of what she just had a few moments ago, whatever it was.”
“That would be a penicillin, you okay with that?” Pieter nodded at the statement..
“I’d like a whiskey sour too, please,” Kara told the bartender.
“Two drinks, coming up,” he replied cheerily.
It didn’t take long before the yellow coloured cocktails were placed on the bar table.
The two of them took a sip of their respective drinks, “I’ve never tried a penicillin before, and I’m not talking about the antibiotic.”
Kara smiled, there was a short story behind it, “I’m a med…medical doctor,” she had to stop herself from calling herself a medical student, “and it’s usually a drink that I start myself off with, just to break the ice, if I’m with people I don’t know, like today, for example. It’s a blend of scotch, lemon juice and syrup,” she had to stop herself from rambling his ear off. Apparently years of medical school with a book as her best friend seemed to throw all her social skills, which she tried so hard to develop, down the drain.
“Then next time you prescribe penicillin, send your patients down to the nearest bar.”
She laughed at his humour. Now she thought, Alex’s idea of fun wasn’t so bad after all, since she had someone to talk to. If only she could find her sister, hoping she hadn’t downed too many shots. Now, she just had to look closely.
Apologies for taking so long to update, school is hectic right now.
Chapter 4: Notice to the Reader
This is going to be stalled.
Thank you for reading my stories, I find just as much enjoyment in writing them. But I started on them as a bored teenager during the summer holidays more than a year ago, without much planning beyond the first few chapters. The stories developed, but somehow lacked a certain depth to it.
Resident Superhero was written because of my aspirations to become a doctor, and I saw that this was the perfect setting to put my theories to the test. After all, what better superhero to become a successful surgeon than one with x-ray vision and extremely good dexterity. But as I know from my current day-to-day life with applying for universities, it is a much more tedious task than I’ve imagined back then. As I’m applying to medical school, this will remain static undergo a total overhaul in around a year’s time, either incorporating actual medicine and science, or going along the Grey’s Anatomy/The Resident/The Good Doctor route, depending on whether or not I’m successful in my endeavours.
Then Staccato, which was written to express my love of classical music, had some experience with the genre, and after watching a few war movies, thought that it could be applied here, with bits of my own imagination thrown in. But after doing more research, this also needs to be edited massively. My original plans were a little too exaggerated and ambitious (cons of being a Slytherin, you overthink things). Thankfully, I have the storyline for this already developed, and the music for each part set (I’ll make a playlist when the entire thing is published).
But you’re in luck, as I am editing Staccato, I’m also starting on a new story. It’ll be something you want to check out if you like Harry Potter, or twentieth century history. Most of you don’t know this, but I love musicals. For the last few months since around this summer I became obsessed with the songs from Anastasia, that’s what inspired it. I’ve got the first two chapters of that written, so it’s going to take a while, since I plan on incorporating the storyline from all seven books. Hopefully by telling you guys about it, I won’t abandon the project.
But there’s one thing looming over my head other than university applications, and that’s my A-Levels, so everything else is going to be stalled as my academics take precedence. Being an all-science student, I can tell you how difficult those subjects are. I guess you and me will have to wait until my exams are done until I start a more regular writing/updating schedule.