Stepping out of the Inksworth Building—soon to be the headquarters of a media empire—Light Inksworth shielded his eyes against the harsh glare of the midday sun. He looked up at the steel monolith, a sense of proprietary pride swelling in his chest.
"The future belongs to Marvel," he murmured to himself.
The sentiment was grandiose, maybe a little arrogant, but he believed it.
The sun, however, didn't care about his ambitions. It beat down on the pavement with oppressive heat, the kind that made the air above the asphalt shimmer. Light squinted, rubbing the spots from his vision, and merged into the lunchtime crowd.
The streets of Midtown were a chaotic river of humanity. Businessmen barking into Blackberries, tourists walking too slowly, and the endless yellow stream of taxis. The heat was stifling, wrapping around the city like a wet wool blanket.
Light needed food. His stomach twisted, a reminder that while his mind was filled with cosmic plans, his body was still very human.
He ducked into a retro-style burger joint on the corner, the kind with checkerboard floors and red vinyl booths. The air inside was cool and thick with the scent of grilling beef, frying oil, and sugary malt.
"Table for one, hon?" a waitress with a pot of coffee in hand asked, popping gum.
"Yeah. By the window."
Light slid into a booth that offered a view of the street. He liked watching the city move. It was research. These were the people he needed to capture, the minds he needed to enthrall with his stories.
He ordered quickly—a double bacon cheeseburger, a basket of seasoned fries, and a vanilla coke. The taste of pure Americana.
As he ate, tuning out the clatter of plates and the sizzle of the grill, a sound cut through the noise.
Grrrrrrr.
It was a stomach growl. But not a normal one. It sounded deep, resonant, almost like tectonic plates grinding together.
Light paused, a fry halfway to his mouth. He looked up.
Standing on the other side of the plate-glass window was a girl.
She couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen. She wore a strange, frilly purple dress that looked like it belonged at a cosplay convention rather than a dirty New York sidewalk. Her hair was dark, her skin pale.
But it was her eyes that caught him. They were fixed on his cheeseburger with an intensity that was terrifying. She pressed closer to the glass, her small pink tongue darting out to lick her lips.
Grrrrrrr.
The sound vibrated through the glass. Light blinked. That noise came from her? It sounded like a starving lion.
She didn't look away when their eyes met. She just stared at the food, her expression a mix of desperation and hope.
Light sighed. He wasn't a charity, but he wasn't heartless.
He waved his hand, gesturing for her to come inside.
The girl didn't hesitate. She didn't look for a parent or check for traffic. She bolted for the door, the bell jingling violently as she rushed to his table.
"Sit," Light said, pushing the laminate menu toward her. "Order whatever you want."
"Really?" Her voice was crisp, oddly formal, but shaking with hunger.
"Really."
She turned to the waitress who had drifted over, looking suspicious of the strange child.
"I want this. And this. And five of those," she pointed rapidly, her finger stabbing the pictures on the menu.
Ten minutes later, Light watched in stunned silence.
The girl was a machine. She didn't eat; she consumed. Five quarter-pounders, three baskets of onion rings, and two large chocolate milkshakes vanished as if she were tossing them into a void. There was no chewing, just efficient, terrifying consumption.
"Slow down," Light muttered, handing her a napkin. "You're going to get a brain freeze."
She ignored him, sucking down the thick milkshake in one long, continuous pull.
"Ah..." She finally set the empty glass down, a small, satisfied sigh escaping her lips.
Light looked at the graveyard of wax paper and red baskets. It was enough food to feed a linebacker for two days. She had finished it in fifteen minutes.
"You have a name?" Light asked, leaning back.
"Gali," she said, wiping a smudge of ketchup from her cheek. Her manners, strangely, were impeccable now that the frenzy had passed.
"Gali. Okay. Where do you live, Gali? Where are your parents?"
She hesitated. Her eyes, which held a strange violet hue in the neon light of the diner, darted to the side.
"I don't have a mother," she said quietly. "I only have a father. But he is not here."
Light frowned. "Not here? You mean he's at work?"
"He is... away. Far away." She looked down at her hands. "I have no family on Earth."
Light felt a pang of sympathy. No family on Earth. The phrasing was odd, but the meaning seemed clear enough. Dead? Or abandoned? A runaway orphan in the middle of Manhattan. No wonder she was starving.
"Right," Light said, signaling for the check. He paid the exorbitant bill without complaint. "Well, you're full now. You should go... wherever you're staying. A shelter?"
He stood up and walked out of the diner, stepping back into the oppressive heat.
He hadn't gone ten feet when he felt a presence behind him. He stopped and turned.
Gali was two steps behind him, looking up with wide, expectant eyes.
"Kid," Light sighed, rubbing his forehead. "You can't follow me. I bought you lunch. Transaction over."
"But I have nowhere to go," Gali said, her voice steady. "And you have high energy."
"I have what?" Light shook his head. "Look, I'm busy. I have a company to run. I can't babysit."
"I won't be a burden," she insisted, taking a step closer. "I just need... proximity."
Light opened his mouth to tell her no firmly, but the words died in his throat.
SCREEECH!
The sound of rubber shredding against asphalt tore through the air.
Light spun around toward the intersection. A massive eighteen-wheeler delivery truck had blown a tire. The trailer whipped around violently, jackknifing across the avenue. It was sliding sideways, uncontrolled, a twenty-ton wall of steel barreling directly toward the sidewalk where they stood.
Screams erupted from the crowd. People scrambled, tripping over each other in a panic.
"Shit!"
Light's instincts kicked in. He didn't think; he lunged. He grabbed Gali's small hand, yanking her toward the safety of a concrete pillar.
"Move!" he shouted.
As Light pulled her, his back to the oncoming truck, he missed what happened next.
A ripple of invisible energy pulsed from the small girl in the purple dress.
For a split second, the world turned grayscale. The screaming pedestrians froze in mid-stride. The flying debris hung suspended in the air. The roaring truck halted, its momentum instantly negated by a force that defied the laws of physics.
Gali's eyes glowed with a faint, cosmic purple light. She didn't look afraid. She looked annoyed.
She twitched a finger.
SNAP.
Time resumed with a deafening crash.
But the truck didn't hit them.
Light braced for impact, squeezing his eyes shut, but the crunch of metal came from the wrong direction.
He opened his eyes, panting.
The truck was there, but it was facing the wrong way. It had spun a perfect, impossible 360 degrees in the space of a heartbeat, coming to a dead halt ten feet away from them. The driver was slumped over the wheel, unconscious but alive. Smoke billowed from the tires, but the truck sat perfectly still, as if placed there by a giant hand.
Light stared at the vehicle, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"What the hell...?"
He looked around. The pedestrians were just as confused. Physics said that truck should have flattened the sidewalk. Instead, it had pirouetted like a ballerina.
"Lucky," Light breathed out, his voice shaking. "We got lucky."
He looked down at Gali. She looked completely unbothered. She was just staring at him, her hand still in his.
"Are you okay?" he asked, checking her for injuries.
"I am fine," she said. "I am still hungry, though."
Light laughed. It was a hysterical, short bark of a laugh. "You're unbelievable, kid."
He looked at the chaos forming around the truck—sirens wailing in the distance, people pulling out flip phones to take pictures. He didn't want to be here when the cops started asking questions.
He hailed a taxi that was inching around the wreckage.
"Get in," Light said, holding the door open.
Gali climbed into the backseat, smoothing her dress.
Light slid in beside her, giving the driver his address. As the cab pulled away from the scene, the adrenaline began to fade, leaving him exhausted.
He looked at the girl. She had no family. She had almost just died (or so he thought). And for some reason, she was looking at him like he was the most interesting thing in the universe.
"Fine," Light said, rubbing his temples. "You can crash at my place for a few days. Until we figure out what to do with you."
Gali stared at him with a grateful look.
"Thank you," she said. "I promise I will not eat your furniture." she added with a serious expression.
"Haha..." Light laugh in a cringe, hearing Gali's joke.
He stared out the window, oblivious to the fact that he had just invited a cosmic entity into his home.