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Get Out of My Head! || 1x1

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At Demi's words, Ezra made a face and shuddered in fake disgust, the ghost boy stirring. "Wish I didn't," he murmured back, though a small smile on his face betrayed his joy at being . . . well, as alive and as in-one-piece as his ghostly condition would allow, with Demi at his side in somewhat-fair condition.

He frowned as the superheroine brushed a streak of blood across her fair features, and then rose to her feet--ah, that was Demi. Never one to falter, nor give in to despair--he smiled to himself, and then grasped onto her hand and rose with ease, stirring the air beneath him slightly as he moved through space.

Their moment was broken when another explosion threatened to shatter the safety of their haven, and Ezra was so shocked at this sudden boom that his features flickered--his face paled, and his hair began to lighten at the tips, until one could see the remains of rubble through his body. Hurrying alongside Demi, Ezra bit his lip and prayed to whatever beings resided above that the building would hold until they, along with Silver Wave, made it safely outside.

Just a little longer . . . he thought to himself, clenching his hands into fists at his side. He followed Demi, seconds after the girl threw herself through the exit onto the cement ground before the entrance, and he followed in similar suit. Laying there staring at the sky, with his heart thumping in his chest and blood roaring in his ears, Ezra gave a small, weak laugh.

"We made it," he whispered as Demi sat up beside him.




Harriet screamed as the electricity neared her, more out of shock than any actual pain--for she did not feel much, even as she witnessed the bomb's timer hit zero and her desperate attempt for safety shatter to pieces as the bomb exploded seconds after she had thrown out all her strength forward.

Is this . . . death . . . ?

Heat surged against her features, pressing into her cheeks, and Harriet closed her eyes. Squinting, she attempted to open them once again just as a blaze of white light enveloped her whole, and she once again gave in to the darkness.

No . . .

But I have . . .

So many more . . .

Things . . .

To accomplish . . .

She, perhaps through a combination of paranoia and the sweet perchance of death, saw flashes before her eyes--but they were not her own. She saw herself entering, seeking out Combustion Man, yet he was not there--rather, he seemed pressed up against her, another force splitting against her head, fight for control, threatening to overcome, to overwhelm, to swallow whole--

She screamed again, but no sound came out.

And then, all her senses came rushing back to her, but stopped at the threshold. She could see her limbs, yet she was not in control of her fingers. This created a strange feeling within her, conflicting feelings threatening to bubble to the surface, and she was about to attempt to revive her powers when she found something knock against her . . . mind?

What are you doing in my head!

She jumped at this, for it felt as if Combustion Man's voice was resounding within her very soul. What? How . . . ?

I could ask the same! she snapped back, yet a sudden fear overtook her when she realised that she could not fine-tune her body to reply to her. Suddenly, she was a glass castle without a foundation, a bird within a cage, and she was terrified.

What's going on? she asked Combustion Man, a hint of terror within her voice. Answer me! What's happened?

The world before her was a blur; she saw the scene before her, yet could not make sense of the strange colours floating before her vision. She attempted to blink, yet could not find strength within her eyelids to do so. Just what was going on . . . ?

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Nonsense! This is my head, not get out! Mike bellowed back, shoving his mind against hers. Huffing indignantly, he paused to give a dismissive answer to Silver Wave's question. How should I know? The bomb exploded and then things went black, he remarked. Gradually, sight returned to him and he could see all sorts of debris fallen from the ceiling. The ability to move came next and he started to roll, picking himself up.


Something felt... funny. Glancing over he cried out in surprise, the sound coming out like a young girl's shriek. "What's going on!" That wasn't his voice!


Before him lay a mangled body in a red and orange suit. His body. Look at what you've done! You've ruined my beautiful figure! he lamented. Let's not forget why he was controlling Silver Wave's body though. Panicking, he started to pat her body down with her hands, trying to figure out if this was just a dream or reality. WHY AM I IN YOUR BODY! he shouted at her, shoving his mind against hers once more.


Maybe it was all of the equipment, the wiring did something to them and now they shared one frail little body. Fine. Since their minds occupied the same space, Mike saw a prime opportunity. Mentally attacking the girl, he attempted to start ripping her mind apart, searching for a means into her thoughts and find out everything he could about her.




Rising to her feet, Demi glanced behind her as the sound of sirens heralded the arrival of security and emergency personnel. "Let's get out of here. We'll probably see Silver Wave and Combustion Man in the future. It never fails," she commented. Motioning for Ezra to hurry and follow, Demi jogged away from the scene and out of the sight of any cops or paramedics. "You hungry?" she asked him, in the mood for some chow.

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Internally, Harriet screamed as Mike suddenly began pushing back against her. How . . . how could this be? His thoughts were stronger, overwhelmingly so, and Harriet felt as if there was a maelstrom seconds away from hitting her house, shattering her like a glass castle against a bulldozer--merciless, wretched, without a second thought. How could this be . . . ?

She doesn't remember him ever being this strong. The idea that she, the legendary Silver Wave, Defender of Justice and ultimate heroine, could be so easily overpowered by Combustion Man, scourge of the cities, made her uneasy beyond all degree.

Never! She returned, pushing against the torrent of his thoughts. What have you done, you bumbling idiot? she cried as he spoke, but her words stopped short in her mouth and her blood chilled to ice when Mike spoke aloud, and in return . . .

Her voice.

that was her voice.

She was standing before Combustion Man, yet . . . not.

She had heard his presence, yet clear as day before her lay his mangled body, sprawled out against the rubble and almost certainly devoid of life.

A . . .


Like . . . Ezra . . . ?

No, that was impossible. For one, she had heard Combustion Man's voice inside of her head. And . . . when he spoke, that had been his voice . . .

"Ahh!" she shrieked, just as she suddenly felt her own hands run down her body and Combustion Man's panicked voice against her head, and then suddenly, before she could find the means to reply, his thoughts swirled against hers in a violent tempest, and suddenly, he was in her head, he was in her head---!

It was frightening, to have another be inside of her mental capacity and not be able to do anything about it. She felt, she saw, she sensed Combustion Man enter her memories, enter her emotions, and she could only stand there--or think there, perhaps?--helplessly as Combustion Man dug through her childhood, her rise to justice, all the people she had saved and the happy memories brought about by her victories.

"You've ruined us--me!" she told him, and if a conscience could cry she most certainly would. "Are you . . . are you satisfied, now?"




Ezra paled upon hearing faint sirens in the distance. Oh no. Heroes they may be, but he was fairly certain the entire police force were now quite sick of his accidental possessions and Demi's uncanny ability to blow just about anything to pieces.

He ignored the voice in his head that told him to make sure Silver Wave and Combustion Man were safe--those two were practically indestructible, anyways--and followed suit after Demi, floating lightly along as they streaked through the streets.

He shrugged at her question, anxiety greatly relieved after having been removed from the scene. "I could eat," he suggested. "Where?"

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"What have I done?" Mike shrieked with the voice not his own. "What have you done? You're the one that flung us into some kind of mess!" he growled, Silver Wave's young voice carrying the words to the room around him... her... them? As he tore through her mind, her thoughts and memories, he discovered who she was, the identity she was given and grew with, the identity that was Silver Wave without her mask.


Harriet Pinch.


Michael mentally sneered at the girl, muscles working to part her lips and form words. The sound of sirens over the crumbling of debris interrupted his thoughts and he whirled, scowling. For the moment, he withdrew from Harriet's mind, choosing instead to focus on more important matters at hand. Glancing once more at his former body - because he was somehow in Harriet's body now - he began to panic.


What should he do? This girl's body was too weak to carry his for any significant distance. But, he couldn't just leave it here to be found. The city would believe him dead! Imagine the lack of attention he would garner!


Shaking his head, he hesitated before holding out his hands and...


Nothing happened. Why wasn't anything happening?


Why isn't it working! he shouted internally, thoroughly perplexed and disturbed. Come on! Work! he swore, clapping his hands together and snapping his fingers. Though, try as he might, no sparks came into existence. Was he powerless in this girl's body? The idea worried him and he cursed his luck.


Fine, he'd have to do something else. Hurrying, he grabbed for a burning chunk of wood, hissing with discomfort at the amount of heat generated by the flames that threatened to burn fingers that were unexposed to hard years. Throwing the chunk at his unmoving body, Mike's stomach churned and the panicked thought of kicking the burning wood away struck his mind. But he held off; it had to be done.


The sirens were louder and distant voices started to reach his ears. It was time to make his leave, new body be damned. Twisting on the girl's heel, Mike rushed to find an exit and escape the authorities yet again.




As they walked, Demi thought. Where to eat? "I'm in the mood for a big, juicy hamburger. What do you say? We get something good from Jack in the Box?" she offered. The burning building and the sirens were eventually distant and Demi sniffed, frowning. Bringing an arm up to her face, she sniffed at her sleeve and huffed. "Though, maybe we should get changed out of our suits first. Don't want to enter a food joint all covered and reeking of smoke," she smirked.

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what poor children

but yes i have returned i am many sorr friend))


"Me?" Harriet repeated the word, putting the same emphasis into her speech as the other man had did. She wanted to intimidate him--this was her body, and there was no way she would relinquish control of her being over to someone who was known to be the scrounge of the cities!


She continued to struggle against him, their consciences entwining in a battle of souls, and yet she could feel Combustion Man threading through her memories, her mind unable to barricade due to the strange contract that had been signed upon the happening of their situation. She felt as he shifted through her memories--of her childhood, her family, learning to control the winds that ruffled through her hair and shadowed her steps . . .

It was surreal, the allotting of her and everything that made her Harriet, Harriet Pinch, to this strange man whom she did not even know the name of.


She attempted to struggle against him, wanting to throw out her hands and conjure up the gusts to carry them far, far away.

However, she found that her body refused to obey. Instead, and, dare she believe it, Combustion Man held out her--her--hands and faced his body, lying a crumpled mess in the ruins as sirens signaled his funeral.

He shouted internally upon discovering a certain lack of ability, and she winced. In their shared headspace, his voice was far too loud and far too annoying.

Stop that, she hissed, displeasure clear. Do you honestly think you could master the power of the wind overnight? It took me years, years before I even thought of coming here to fight crime!

She watched, a simple spectator in the prison of her mind, as Combustion Man took over. He immediately set to action, rushing forth--he grabbed a piece of burning wood with his--her?--bare hands, and Harriet winced internally, and yet her attention was diverted when he faced his unmoving body.

Her eyes widened. What are you doing?


She watched as her fingers threw the wood forth, surreal. She felt the tips of her slender fingers burn from holding the wood so tightly for those few precious seconds, and yet the experience was faded, secondhand, as if she was watching through rimmed-glasses filmed over with a glaze she could not move. Frustrated, she let out a shout as she saw Combustion Man's body enveloped in the flames, a makeshift pyre built admist the oncoming police.


The man spun on his heel and took flight.

What did you just do? she questioned internally. Answer me! What will you do? That was your body!

She had faith that they could--would--find a way to separate from each other's insufferable beings. And yet what could they do now, when he no longer had a physical body to return to?

She raised her eyes to heaven--or, at least, metaphorically, as she could not control her movements--and wondered. What magic had gotten them into this mess--and what kind of magic could get them out?




Ezra blinked at the suggestion, dipping his head in agreement. "I want fries," he offered, hoping Demi knew her way around town. As much as he loved fast food fries, his weekly order of takeout was usually picked up by passing through countless walls and scaring a good number of righteous citizens. When walking with Demi--and thus being forced to go the human way about things--he had no idea how to get past these spiraling streets and backalley hallways.

"Wouldn't be the first time." He shrugged, remembering many of their missions past. "Should we stop by our houses, then?" He thought of his tiny apartment on the outskirts of town--really, why did ghosts need clothes or a bed? He found it wholeheartedly unfair he couldn't simply float up and go to sleep, nor just have magically clean and fresh clothes due to his ghostly appearance.

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He ignored her shouting as best he could, thoughts focused on finding a way out of the building. Smoke filled his - Harriet's - lungs and the heat of the fire left him feeling uncomfortably hot. He never felt so hot before. In this delicate body, it was almost like betrayal from the one element he knew so well. Such betrayal felt like more than a slap to the face or a punch to the abdomen.


Fire - his fire - was now turned against him, roaring in his ears and threatening to consume him. Debris collapsed all around Mike, blocking his way, forcing him to find alternative paths. On more than one occasion, he was almost struck. But he made it out. Through a broken window, he found freedom.


The air felt like a loving friend, embracing the girl's body in reassuring arms. For a moment, Mike savored the feeling of this freedom, savored the sweetness of the cool air. For a moment, he was relieved to be away from the heat.


Coughing, gagging, he staggered away from the building. Auburn strands - formerly stuck to the young, feminine face by sweat - flew free. Sirens filled his ears but no one would see him, wouldn't see Harriet. The burning building consumed the attention of the authorities, allowing him to stumble into hiding and away into safety.


It took several minutes before Mike's coughing had lessened significantly, longer still before he stopped running. Taking shelter in a bathroom at the park, he hurried to a sink and twisted the knob. Water rushed out of the facet and into the bowl, spiraling down the drain. He shoved delicate hands into the cold liquid, splashing it across a face that wasn't his.


After the water turned off, he stared at the mirror. Bright, yellow-brown eyes stared back. "This hasn't happened..." Pushing away from the sink, he began to pace, combing fingers through auburn hair. He growled in frustration. "What is this!"


Again, he stared at the mirror, trying to glare at the girl who now shared his mind-space. Or did he now share her mind-space?


Gripping the edges of the sink bowl tightly, he glowered at the mirror. "You chose one hell of a time to become a hero," he snarked internally at the girl. "We're stuck like this because of you! You know that, right?


"Of course that was my body! Who's else would it be?" Mike sneered. If he could, he would have been blowing off steam, shooting out fire from his fingers. Except, that. Didn't. Work! His fire was gone! "It doesn't work anymore! It's gone! Why is it gone?"


He began pacing once more, rubbing his face. "Why did I do it? You really want to know?" Mike asked her. "I'll tell you. I burned my body because your frail form is too weak! I wouldn't be able to escape the building while dragging it. Even if our minds were able to separate somehow, I wouldn't be getting my body back. But I would be damned if I let someone else take it away from me. So I burned my body."

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Harriet wasn't sure how this worked anymore. Was it her heart she felt beating in her ears, or that which belonged to Combustion Man? God, the thought was frightful on a whole other level.

Her being or not, she felt heartbeats roar in her ears as a neverending surge as she watched, a simple spectator to the fact her body now risked the danger of being burnt alive. What would happen, should she die? Would he die with her? Or would his spirit float on? Harriet wasn't sure which thought was more frightening--that Combustion Man and Silver Wave would die together, mortal enemies forced to intertwine, or that his spirit would wander the streets forever, causing terror wherever he wanted.

No, that couldn't happen. Even the thought was horrific, but the idea of him floating across the distant universe helped bring her mind from being so utterly helpless to the danger present.


The shattering of glass breaks her from her thoughts by force, and Harriet shrieks just as Combustion Man chucks them both--or her, she supposes--through a window. Glass shards flew everywhere, digging into her arms as Harriet winced. The window had been broken, so flinging himself--herself? themselves?--through it hadn't been much of a problem, yet broken glass was deadly sharp.


She sighed as she felt the air wash over her body, fresh and calming in the chaos that shadowed them. What a day . . . she wanted nothing more than to go home and fix up a cup of tea, the day's evil defeated and spending her afternoons looking for even more crime to stop.

But . . . instead, she was stuck with who was possibly the worst person to be stuck with.


She watched as he ran towards the park. And then--

"You idiot!" she hissed as he flew into a bathroom and then intensely stared at the mirror, his eyes filled with hatred. "This is the wrong bathroom!" Nervously, she hoped no one would walk in and see a strange girl, covered in dust and grime, intensely glaring at the mirror before her.


"I'm in the right!" she argued, obviously unsettled by his words. "To be a hero is to be honourable. You, a villain, would know nothing about that!"

She watched as he waved her hands around like a manic, growing increasingly agitated. "What are you doing?" she demanded. "Actually, what have you done? Now we're going to be stuck like this forever, if you actually just destroyed your body! Don't blame this on me, this is all your fault with your explosive tricks and strange chemicals! What did you even do?" Frustrated, Harriet continued on her rant. How could he do such a thing? How come he just didn't understand?

"By burning your body, we're going to be stuck like this forever!"

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"We were going to be stuck like this anyways!" Michael growled at Harriet, twisting her delicate face into a nasty scowl. "My body would have decayed before we found a solution because I blew up the mess of wires that caused this to begin with!" Infuriated, he punched the wall since his fire wasn't obeying him. Of course, this had an unpleasant result.


Pain raced up his hand and through his arm, causing him to cry out and spew forth a string of curses unfitting for a young girl. Was his hand broken? He hoped not. Inspecting it only revealed red, angry flesh that would gradually swell in the next hour or two. It hurt to move any of his fingers but he could manage one or two. Damn! "We're going to the hospital and then your house," he told Harriet flatly, holding the injured hand to his abdomen.


Searching through her memory, he cursed when he realized her street clothes were at home, not hidden away in some sewer ditch or something. Fine. Leaving the bathroom - oh, didn't realize it was the men's - he strode down the streets towards the hospital. The trip was longer than he anticipated, his destination several blocks away from the bathroom in the park. By the time he got there, the pain had dulled to a throb, his hand was swollen, and he was tired of walking.


The emergency room was mostly quiet, with only a couple of people sitting in the chairs and waiting their turn. "Hi! How can I help you today?"


Mike turned his attention onto the woman at the counter. "I think my hand is broken..." he said, trying to sound meek. It didn't take too much effort, being tired helped. "I need to get it checked."


The woman nodded and started asking questions about Harriet's personal information, information that Mike was readily able to give. After, the woman placed a white ID band around the wrist of his uninjured hand and he was told to wait in one of the chairs. Time ticked by but, soon enough, a doctor called Harriet back and Mike followed. It was another hour and a half before everything was finally done.


A broken hand. Now wrapped up in a cast, Mike was free to go. He was forced to call Harriet's mother when he realized the girl didn't have any sort of money (cash or card) on her person. Mother was not too thrilled but, at the least, he wouldn't have to walk to Harriet's home now. Though, he had to suffer through her upset lecturing. Drowning her out, he slumped down in the passenger seat. This is humiliating... I am a grown man! I am well beyond the lecturing age!


"How do you suffer this woman?" he asked Harriet, staring out the window and shifting his position so the mother was unable to see his facial expressions. It was nearing dark by now, the sun almost completely consumed by the horizon. He watched it sink from sight, the reds and pinks of the sky cooling into dark blues until it was black.


And suddenly, he felt different. His eyes were watering but he couldn't blink. He couldn't even stop his head from rolling forward as Harriet's body became limp and fell against the car door. "What is happening with this body!" he cried out, shocked.




Nodding, Demi started heading for home, ushering Ezra to follow with. Since her place was closest, it just made sense to go there first, then to his apartment a little ways from there. Within half an hour, Demi's house came into view and she jogged up to the front door, inserted the key, and twisted the knob to push open the plank of wood blocking the duo's path. "Mom! You here?" No answer. Good. "I'll be just a minute," she stated to Ezra, leaving the door open for him to walk into the house.


Hurrying down the hall of the single-story building, Demi disappeared into her room, not bothering to shut the door behind her. Shedding the black clothes that made up her crime-fighting costume, she replaced it with pink and purple fabric in a similar style to the black outfit. Demi raked her fingers through her hair, frowning as flecks of ash drifted to the floor. Grabbing her brush, she entered the bathroom across from her room. She bent over the edge of the bathtub, turning on the facet and dunking her head into the stream of water. Scrubbing with her fingers, she rinsed out the ash and grime that clung to the red strands. After a minute or two of scrubbing, she turned off the water and grabbed the closest towel to quickly dry off. Once done, she took the brush and attempted to bring order to the wet locks.


"All set!" she called, setting her brush on the sink counter and turning the bathroom light off as she exited. "Let's get to your place then grab some grub."

Edited by Narvix

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Harriet screeched internally as Mike slammed her hand into the wall, his anger flashing across her conscience clear as day.

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed, screaming internally as pain flashed across her vision, a rather surreal feeling as it hadn't been her who had caused the injury, yet she was to receive it all the same.

What did you do? she demanded as he started cursing through her lips, a rather uncomfortable feeling for the modest heroine who preferred to keep herself PG-13.


She watched from a spectator's glance as Mike guided her body out of the bathroom, clutching her wounded hand close. Of course, she mentally chided herself, out of all the times to leave her street clothes at home . . . usually, she carried them with her in a small bag, but since this was an immediate call . . .


She sat back as Mike approached the hospital, giving her credentials with an ease that made her feel as if this was an attack on her personal identity. It was strange--she barely had time to get used to sharing a body with someone else, and it was quickly beginning to set in that she would be unable to do anything without the other knowing . . .


Argh. Ohh, this was awkward.

Mike was calling her mother. Harriet internally grimaced as the man greeted her stoic mother as calmly as he could, awkwardly shuffling into the back of the car while attempting to maneuver his way around with a clumsy cast.


Shut up and take it, she snapped, uncharacteristically angry after such a day of lifechanging events. It's your fault you decided to punch a mirror! Or even set up those wires and those chemicals! Heck, if it hadn't been for you, we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place! She continued, internally ranting at the man--had they not been in this situation, she would've pitied him; she could rant on a speed rivaling that of her mother, and he was on the receiving end of both of them all at once.

She was so caught up in her words that Harriet failed to notice the sun lowering itself into the ground, and then there was a sudden tilt as the world itself spun. Her body slumped down, like a limp puppet on the car seat, and Mike's last words echoed in her mind. She heard her mom call her name through a haze, and Harriet stirred and felt something shift.


She was sitting in the car seat. However, something was different. Her head was . . . clearer? No longer was the thick film that seemed to permanently cover her conscience present; she could move her arms!

With surprise she sprung up in the seat--her mother gave her a quick glance, yet she was used to her daughter having epiphanies in the middle of the night, as all heroines were prone to do.


She was in control. As the car drove, they arrived at her house where Harriet immediately sprung up the stairs, neglecting her mother's calls to clean up after herself.

Is this happening? she questioned internally, almost afraid--what happened? Was Mike truly gone for good?


Upon reaching her house, the girl bolted up the stairs without a second to spare, mind too caught up in the recent events to pay any attention to her mother staring at her retreating figure, confused.


She fumbled for her phone, mind buzzing. Who could she call? It wasn't like superheroes just traded phone numbers on their day off. Who would believe such a crazy tale?

She finally decided on a certain someone she knew got into a lot of crazy situations, and dialed the number with baited breath. Come on, Demi . . .




Ezra ambled into the house, unsure. Sure, they were partners, but he attempted to keep a cool facade of never getting close to anyone ever, which meant being inside Demi's house went against everything in his moral code. He was unclear what to do here--start haunting the walls? Scan the ground underneath for dead things? It was all very morbid--at the very least, he would've greeted her parents, but it seemed they weren't even here.


Demi disappeared down the hall, and Ezra followed slowly. The ghost's boy form was flickering, a sign of his unease, and yet when the phone rang he jumped clear into the air as half of his body disappeared into the wall, shocked.

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"Oh relax," Demi chided, almost snickering at Ezra's jump scare when her phone rang. Snatching the flip phone off her dresser, she opened it and pressed the piece to her ear after checking the ID. "What's up, Silver? Good to see you survived the fire. How're the burns?" she smirked. Shaking her head, she tsk'd and leaned against the doorframe to her room. "Nah, I kid! But, seriously. Everything okay? You normally don't call unless you're in trouble," Demi remarked, genuine concern underlying the nonchalant tone of her voice.




"Who are you calling?" Mike demanded. He had tuned out both mother and daughter during the car ride to Harriet's house, much preferring his sanity over hearing the females lecture him. He was a grown man! He shouldn't have to suffer scoldings anymore! Let alone from a child who had no blood relation to him! The indignation of the situation made the man's thoughts boil.


It was quickly discovered that he lost control of Harriet's body and, in turn, she gained it. Understandably, she was thrilled to be in command of her own vessel but Mike loathed the loss of power. He despised being forced into the back seat while someone else turned the wheel as they deemed fit. He watched as Harriet had rushed up the stairs to her room, feeling her heart race in almost an otherworldly experience.


And then she was calling someone, anxiety gnawing at her but he didn't know what for. "You're not going to blab about my predicament, are you?" he challenged, trying to shove an unspoken threat into his voice but likely not succeeding.

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Harriet hushed the voice inside her head that was internally screaming at her, already beginning to tire of Mike's raspy tones in the back of her conscience. At least she had been somewhat polite when inhabiting the back of her mind--which, all things considered, belonged rightfully to her--why did he have to be such a bother!


"Of course I'm going to talk about this!" she hissed back, indignant. "What else do you think we can--" Before she could finish her sentence, she was interrupted by the ring of the phone coming to an abrupt stop, and Demi's cheerful voice greeting her. Harriet smiled despite herself, a little laugh touching her lips upon the nickname. Silver. It sounded so simple yet so elegant, and she loved her friend for knowing how to cheer her up despite the situation.


It was good to know some things were normal, at least. Demi sounded her forever cheerful self, and Harriet took a breath to collect herself before beginning her long explanation.


"Demi," she greeted warmly. "Sorry for calling you so randomly--I'm uh, mostly okay, mom didn't suspect anything. Yourself?" She paused, hoping that her friend was alright--she wasn't too close to the core of the explosion, was she? Harriet faintly remembered catching, from the corner of her eye, a tint of a faint white wisp, and she knew that Ezra wouldn't be too far from where Demi was. Nonetheless, she hoped they were both alright.


"Demi," she spoke again, this time her voice uncharacteristically serious and depressing. "Look, I, uh," she found it difficult how to breach the topic--what if Demi didn't believe her? Harriet found it hard to believe that Demi would dismiss such a serious story as fiction--she had more faith in her friend than that, but nevertheless the small whisper of doubt began to grow planted in the back of her mind.


"Combustion Man is no more," she said seriously, ignoring Mike's indignant cussing at the back of her head, "but . . . that's not quite it. When I went to find him in the centre of the room, the idiot had a bunch of wires set up to some chemical experiment he was conducting." One again, ignoring the strange man who had permanently seemed to take up residence in the shadows of her mind. "And with the explosion, something . . . happened." She gulped, her grip on the phone clutching harder as she pressed slightly shaking pale fingers into the machine, hoping to grasp onto something to confirm her reality.


"He's in me," she blurted suddenly, then without stopping to give Demi a chance to react, she continued. "I can hear his voice in my head, and earlier today it was like . . . it was like I was watching myself through glasses or something, and he was controlling everything. He got us out of there, and he was there on the car ride home. And then he wasn't, and now I have control, but for some reason he's still . . . speaking." A pause, a gulp for air, and then she called for help--something the Silver Wave swore never to do, but her schoolwork papers neatly stacked on her desk fluttered as she conjured up a wind without realising, a show of her overwhelming nerves. "I'm scared, Demi. I don't know. . . I don't know what happened."




Ezra watched as Demi took the call from the corners of his eyes, silently assessing what it was about by watching emotions flicker across her face. Ghost he may be, but his hearing was still painfully mediocre, if not on the slightly weaker side.


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Mike silenced himself, choosing instead to listen in on the conversation. He was still sour about losing his control on the girl's body, wondering if the handful of hours he had were all that he'd get. Was he stuck in this limbo from now on, stuck as a grudging observer? No, he couldn't be. The timing of his loss of control was too precise. The sun had set at the exact moment, as if setting on his power to let the moon rise with Harriet's. Was that it then? A limited time frame for which the two were forced to alternate roles?


Priding himself in his level of intelligence, Mike almost completely tuned out Harriet's conversation with some Demi, focusing instead on creating theories or formulations of their condition. There wasn't much information from the past several hours to go off of. Just as Harriet recounted the machinery in the now destroyed lab, Mike reasoned that the chemicals and wires caught in the explosion with them were key components.


Why or how eluded the man, but it caused his mind - perhaps his soul - become bound to the wrong body. As result, he now shared a head space with young Harriet, both of their respective histories and mental beings completely in tact. Talk about your split personality case.




"Sorry for calling you so randomly--I'm uh, mostly okay, mom didn't suspect anything. Yourself?"


"Yeah, I'm fine. Ezra's good too," Demi replied, her smirk beginning to fade into a frown. Something wasn't right, she knew her friend well enough to understand her tone of voice and word choice. Silent, she listened to Harriet as the girl stumbled over her words, trying to explain something that occurred. Her brow furrowed as she stood straighter, slowly pushing off the doorframe.


Harriet's words filtered through her mind, causing her grip to tighten subtly around the phone. Combustion Man was gone but not? Inside Harriet's mind? "I'm coming over." She was in motion before she even thought about it, phone already closed and shoved into her pocket. "Ghost boy! Change of plans. We'll grab food on the way to Harret's. You can come if you want to but I'm not doing anything else," she said firmly, snatching her coat off her bed and slipping it on as she headed outside.


Grabbing her bike, she waited to see if Ezra would hop on before leaving her house. She stopped briefly at the closest convenience store rather than a fast food drive thru. Picking out snacks, meals-to-go, and some of Harriet's favorite treats, Demi hurried back to her bike after paying for everything. She set the plastic bag into the wire basket that rested behind the seat and pedaled away. Harriet's house was only a few blocks away.


Finally arriving, she dismounted and parked her bike to the side of the front door, ringing the doorbell before removing the bag from the basket. Harriet's mother answered the door, recognizing Demi. Greeting her, Demi was allowed inside and she ascended the stairs, two steps at a time. "Har? Silver?" Demi called, slowing her pace as she approached the bedroom door. Lightly rapping her knuckles against the wood, she eased her way inside. "Hey, I brought some treats," she informed, smirking.


Harriet looked like a wreck. Her hand was in a cast and her room was disorganized (an uncommon occurrence). Setting the bag down on the floor by the desk, Demi moved closer to Harriet. "Need a hug?"

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((im gonna put ezra on standby for now so demi and harriet (+mike) can have their moment, we can pick him back up whenever we're ready!))


Harriet looked down at her lap when the phone call ended; Demi had promised to visit at the speed of light, and the heroine didn't doubt her friend, but in those few mere seconds between hearing another's voice on the phone and seeing someone in person, the girl felt extraordinarily lonely. This was unlike her; Harriet usually did not find cause to doubt herself or her abilities, not when there was a city to save and people to avenge, but the dark-haired one spared herself a few moments of weakness.


She bit the edge of her mouth, twisting her lovely lips all sorts of ways as she regarded her current situation. She was adverse to speak with Mike; after all, they would most likely be sharing the rest of eternity in the same body, would they not? There was plenty of time to talk otherwise. Putting up what mental blockades she could, she ran a hand through her hair, taking a breath to regain herself. Curling up on the carpet next to her bed, Harriet drew her knees to her chest and waited. Faintly, the back of her mind twitched at the disorder her room was currently in, but the girl filtered that thought off to something to take care of in due time.


She wasn't left alone with her thoughts for long before there was a knock on her door, and Harriet raised her head. Demi's voice came through the wood, clearly worried, and Harriet smiled despite herself.


"Come in," she said, stabilizing her voice as much as she could. It wouldn't do good for the both of them to burst into nerves, would it? Plus, Demi had already done so much for her, including fight crime; it would be unfair of her to push all of her burdens onto her friend.


Demi set her bag down on the floor, the plastic rustling gently as she approached Harriet. The girl put a smile on her face, knowing it was shaky at best, and exhaled as Demi drew closer.

"Yes please," she replied, embracing the other. She felt Demi's comforting warmth as they hugged, and Harriet increased her grip, allowing herself to cling on for a few precious seconds where all could be forgotten.


She exhaled again as they separated from the hug, and, this time, her smile was much firmer. "Ohh, snacks," she said, instead of jumping straight to the elephant in the room, and instead looked curiously at the bag. "What'd you bring?"


Hungry? she mentally asked Mike, then paused. Wait, can you feel anything? Or are you just intruding in my mind?

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[[sounds good!]]


Demi held Harriet tightly, trying to provide a reassuring gesture to her friend. When Harriet was ready to disengage, she let go and watched the other girl look at the bag of goodies. "I brought Ho Hos, barbecue chips, KitKats, Skittles, Easy Mac 'N Cheese, and a bunch of other junk. Powdered doughnuts too," she replied, counting off a fraction of the items on her fingers. "Dig in," she instructed.


Following her own advice, Demi crouched down and grabbed out one of the Starbursts packs, tearing open one end and unwrapping the first chew. It was cherry flavored, not one of her favorites, but she ate it anyways. "Wanna have a Disney marathon tonight?" Demi asked, stuffing the candy into the side of her cheek so she could be understood. "You guys still have Netflix, right? If not, my family does so we can always use my account. We can start with whatever you want but I think Beauty and the Beast is a good pick." Only because she was biased and it was her favorite film.


Swallowing, she tossed more Starbursts chews into her mouth, not caring about individual flavors anymore.




Hungry? Harriet asked if he was hungry? How kind of her. Mike wanted to make a salty reply but he found he couldn't come up with a fitting response. Instead, he thought honestly about his answer. "No, I... Don't think I can experience hunger. At least, not in our present situation. I had control earlier, meaning I was aware of the state of your body much more clearly than I am now." He fell silent again, frowning as he observed Harriet's friend. "She seems nice, practically a different person from before." Yes, he had recognized Gun Rocker. It wasn't very hard as she didn't make any effort to conceal her face.

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