I̵f̶ ̴i̷t̸ ̸m̷e̷a̷n̴t̶ ̷y̷o̵u̷ ̷c̶o̷u̶l̶d̴ ̸c̸h̵a̴n̴g̶e̵ ̸t̴h̶e̵ ̸w̴o̶r̶l̵d̷.̴.̸.̶
Every breath was agony.
A lanky girl with hair falling to her knees, black and blue like the bruises along her pale legs, raced up the Trade Center stairs thousands of feet above the York Sector. Her long black coat flapped behind her, snapping like dogs against the back of her legs. Doors slammed open and shut from floors below and men barked among themselves, but she couldn’t hear them clearly. Her lungs pulsed faster than her heart and everything within her chest threatened to collapse. She had to keep going, though. Even when she could no longer tell the difference between her breathing and their stampeding behind her, she knew she had to keep running.
Her eyes flashed a dim violet shade - This next door on the left… - before she counted to three - Now! - and pushed through it. Timing the sound to match another door opening and hers shutting, she could hear the men run past her moments later. She held her breath, albeit painful to do so, until their footsteps grew muffled and she was left alone. Letting loose her imprisoned breath, each inhale felt like shaking fingers grasping desperately for oxygen.
The building had been evacuated and the floor she ended up on was no different. From left to right, she saw no one, and wobbly legs carried her into the room. Just cubicles, nothing personal or fancy, but the windows beyond them drew her in. She approached, almost pressed her hand to the window but quickly stopped herself, then looked outside.
The world beneath her was crowded; cars driving people to work; buses and trains and cabs following their schedules - life in this congested sector marched on below.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, a smile coming across her face.
I can see it. It's amazing...
She opened her eyes to a train soaring along its tracks, a rainbow of fire hissing from beneath it as it turned and vanished from her sight. She reached into her pockets and pulled out a pair of transparent gloves, fitting them to her hands. She looked over her shoulder, catching the time on the clock - 16:43 - before looking back to the window.
I looked into the future, just like you asked.
She leaned forward, fingertips hovering over the window. It flickered beneath her touch, reacting to the gloves and pulling them away from her skin.
And you were right. It won't fade to black.
When contact was made, the window screamed, and the gloves on her hands reacted violently to the electricity fueling through them. The deafening siren begged the men who had been chasing her to return to this floor. The longer and harder she pressed, the more the window scrambled into static. It was burning her flesh but unlike her, it was cracking under the pressure.
“Here! Down here!”
She could hear them coming back for her. It’s fine. That was the plan. The sensation of bodies occupying the room behind her alerted her to being found. Her ears couldn’t register anything more than the alarm.
It'll actually be -
One good push and the window shattered, shards of glass and lightning like fireworks around her.
She turned to the men. Smiled.
“No. Not anymore.”
Arms spread, she leapt -