A Deviant's Life

Moonlight gleamed off the angular rooftops of the city as a speeding figure stalked her prey. Dressed in her form-fitting black spandex suit that seductively outlined her plump breasts, her golden hair concealed beneath the mask, she was the specter of night given human form.

In her ear, a steady stream of information from her team dissected the ambient sounds of the city, "Can't believe GDA sent you, a Class 2 Assassin, to kill some measly Class 4 Deviant," the voice announced, informal and friendly, "Who knows, maybe its because he is a Crime Syndicate leader. Just finish him off quickly and we can leave early."

"Don't be so impatient, Red Thief. I am just glad I get to get rid of one more scum off the streets," She said with a subtle scoff as she moved with predator-like grace, prowling across the rooftops and blending into the midnight shadows. Her powers lay dormant, simmering beneath her skin, ready to be unleashed at her command.

Arriving at the location, she spotted the target through a window on the top floor of an abandoned warehouse. His broad back turned to her, arrogance personified, oblivious to the imminent danger.

She phased through the glass window, stepping silently into the room. Her body shimmered back into solidity as she silently approached him like a ghost in the shadows.

Leitner whirled around coincidentally to look at his mobile, only to have his eyes widen upon seeing a half ethereal curvaceous figure in the shadows, her eyes radiating strong killing intent that sent a chill down his spine.

"What the fuck!" Leitner growled as he tried to punch her with his glowing fist.

But in a swift, almost poetic motion, she re-materialized behind him, her form solidifying just as she delivered a precision strike to his nerve cluster. The power of her punch shattered all his nerves and the next moment Leitner collapsed to the floor, his body lifeless.

"Target neutralised," Without even taking a second look at his corpse, she left quicker than she entered. It was as if she was never there in the first place.

Under the shadowed eaves of a narrow alleyway, she began her transformation. The seductive yet deadly figure of the night faded away as the black bodysuit was neatly folded into a hidden pocket of her bag. Replacing it was a modest ensemble of civilian clothing that instantly turned the feared assassin into Clara, the humble NGO worker as written on her identification card.

Sliding her earpiece back in, she spoke, "Switch to casual comms."

"Right away, Eclipse," came the reply, the voice on the other end instantly losing its formal edge.

Clara pulled out her phone, the screen illuminating her weary face in the dim alleyway.

"Clara, finally we are done with work!" a boisterous voice rang out as soon as the call connected, "So quickly come back and we all can party to celebrate your upcoming promotion."

"I'm sorry, Johnny," Clara sighed, her voice resonating with regret. "I can't make it to the party tonight. I need to get home."

"What? C'mon, Clara! Alex won't die if you come home a bit late. This is your promotion party," Johnny retorted, a note of playful frustration in his voice.

Clara rolled her eyes, her lips curling into a small smirk as she held back her laughter, "I'm sure he won't," she said, her tone laced with affection for the man waiting for her at home, "But, Johnny, you know how much I value my time with him. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

With a sigh of resignation, Johnny conceded, "Alright, see you tomorrow, Clara. The others are gonna be just as disappointed as I am."

Clara took a deep breath and said as she tucked her hair, "I will make it up to all of you another day. Laters," Clara cut the call as she straightened her neck and hastily headed back to the only place where she could experience some warmth.

****

The sun just broke through the misty curtain of the pre-dawn sky, its nascent rays illuminating a humble, yet comfortable house nestled in the quieter districts of New Haven. It was an area largely untouched by the tumultuous affairs of rogue Deviants and the Deviant Agencies that kept them in check. One such organization, more formidable and secretive than the rest, was the Global Deviant Agency, a name revered by many and feared by the powerful few.

Clara, her long silky golden hair tucked into a messy bun, moved around the kitchen with an easy grace. Her striking green eyes, despite the early hour, sparkled with an uncanny alertness. She was putting together breakfast, ensuring everything was perfect, as she did with most things in her life. Her day job as an international aid worker for a reputed NGO required such precision. Or so Alex thought.

A soft murmur echoed from the second floor of the house. It was Alex, probably struggling with the morning rush. Clara smiled fondly at the sound, the usual morning chaos bringing warmth to her heart. For her, these mundane routines were her sanctuary, a respite from her other, more deadly life.

Alex descended the staircase, his short brown hair looking a bit ruffled but no less handsome. His shy smile and the glint in his bright blue eyes never failed to draw her in.

"Good morning, honey," Alex greeted, sneaking up behind Clara to wrap his arms around her. He rested his head on her shoulder, soaking in her warmth, his love for her clear in his touch.

Clara chuckled, her cheeks flushing a lovely shade of pink. "Good morning, sleepyhead. I thought you might need a little more motivation to wake up today. You were dead as a log," she teased, placing a tray full of pancakes and freshly brewed coffee on the table.

Alex made a face but couldn't hide his abashed grin. Yesterday night she was unstoppable on the bed as usual and he fell asleep long before she did.

He could only wonder how she has so much energy after working so hard in her job while he was mentally exhausted dealing with his patients but he didn't want to let her down by saying that.

Yet, he loved these quiet mornings with Clara. Though he wished they could spend more time together, he never questioned her commitments. Her work, as much as his, was about helping others, and he respected that. "You know me too well," he confessed, stealing a quick peck on her cheek before sitting down.

As they ate, Alex noticed Clara zoning out, her gaze fixed on her phone. He knew that look all too well—it was her 'work' commitments.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, his worry evident in his voice.

Clara blinked and offered him a reassuring smile. "Just another day, love. Don't worry," she lied effortlessly. It was a necessary evil, a bitter pill to keep him safe. But it never sat right with her.

"I wish I could help you more, Clara," Alex said, reaching for her hand across the table.

"And you do, Alex. More than you realize," Clara replied, squeezing his hand gently.

She was, in every way, a woman divided, but one thing was clear. She would do whatever it took to protect the world she cherished—and the man she loved, even if it meant embracing the burdens that came with being a Deviant.

Clara took a deep breath, shifting her focus away from her burdens. She turned her attention to Alex, curiosity piqued as she studied his face. "How about you, love? How are things at the GDA?" Clara knew Alex worked for the same agency she did which even to this day she had no idea how it happened. Fortunately, she had the means to keep him safe from learning her Deviant identity.

He was a Class 5 Deviant, belonging to the weakest category, though his niche powers and his talent at understanding people proved to be useful to a giant and powerful agency like GDA.

Alex looked surprised, but he shrugged, smiling his shy, gentle smile. "It's...challenging. We've had an influx of heroes with combat trauma recently. Their powers as a Deviant make them formidable on the battlefield, but it can be hard for them to find peace afterwards. Some even lost their friends or family. I can only imagine how tough and sad the life of a true hero is."

Clara's heart clenched at his words. She knew too well the toll combat took on a person, the nights haunted by phantoms of the past, the struggle to reconcile the hero with the person underneath. But she could never let Alex see that side of her.

"That sounds tough," Clara murmured, trying to keep her voice steady. "I can't imagine how hard it must be for them... or for you. You carry their burdens along with them."

"It's not a burden, Clara," Alex countered softly. His gaze was soft, understanding. "It's a privilege. These are people who put their lives on the line for us every day. The least I can do is help them navigate their emotions and memories, give them some measure of peace."

Clara felt a rush of affection for Alex. His empathy and kindness were part of what had drawn her to him in the first place. He could see the good in people, even when they couldn't see it in themselves. It was a gift that made him not only an excellent psychologist but also a loving husband.

"Sometimes, I worry that I'm not doing enough," Alex confessed. "I can sense their emotions, share their memories, but I can't take away their pain."

"You're doing more than you know, Alex," Clara replied, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. "I see the way you pour your heart into your work, how much you care. You're a hero in your own right, love. Don't ever forget that."

A warm laugh escaped Alex's lips, a vibrant sound that danced around the room. "You know, you always have a way of making me feel like the most important person in the world, Clara," he said, his gaze softening with affection. "And I want you to know that I feel the same about you. The work you do with your NGO, the lives you're touching... it's incredible. I couldn't be more proud."

Clara gave a complicated smile, though she felt warm healing his words. "Thank you, Alex," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "You make it easy to be a better person."

With their breakfast conversation winding down, the couple readied themselves for their respective jobs. Clara packed her documents into a leather satchel, and Alex gathered his case files. They stepped out into the bright morning sun, hand in hand, and walked towards their quaint, old car parked on the driveway.

Alex drove, as was their morning routine, his eyes always attentive on the road. They made small talk, discussing their plans for the evening, when they would finally reunite after a long day at work. Clara's stomach fluttered with anticipation - she cherished these moments of normalcy, of simply being a wife, a woman in love.

Soon, they pulled up in front of an imposing glass building, the headquarters of Luminara Corps, a reputable international NGO, or so it appeared to the world. It was, in fact, a facade for a secret department of the same agency Alex worked in.

Clara unbuckled her seat belt, ready to step into her other life, the one she kept hidden. She leaned over and placed a quick kiss on Alex's cheek, his stubble tickling her lips. "Thanks for the ride, love. I'll see you tonight," she said, her voice laced with promise.

"I will be waiting,," Alex replied, his heart full. He watched as Clara stepped out of the car, her silky golden hair cascading around her shoulders, her figure disappearing into the building.

With a sigh, Alex pulled away from the curb, driving towards the more recognizable Global Deviant Agency (GDA) building located a few blocks away.