Magnolia Newman was a dead girl. Larkin knew that. That's what she had read in the papers and online. That's what the evidence suggested. That's what the police had concluded after the tragedy in 2005 that became known as the Newman Murder.

While skipping over the cracks in the sidewalk, Larkin remembered.

She was five, maybe six at the time. The cruelty of the murder hadn't struck her until she was in middle school, doing a project on her town's history. The family had been trapped in their home while it burned to the ground above them. The police had discovered the fire to be arson, and proceeded with an investigation.

Ultimately, it was the Imposter who committed the crime. He was tried for murder, found guilty, and promptly placed in the state penitentiary. That was the end of the story.

Until Larkin discovered that he had escaped and was living freely in suburban Markusville.

Now, as Larkin really thought about it, she didn't understand the motive. Why did the Imposter want to kill the Newmans in the first place? The court had pegged it on purely evil intentions; he was, after all, a villain, but Larkin couldn't settle on that reasoning. No matter how evil a person seemed, they probably had a reason. She couldn't accept what the court had said.

She needed to know more.

()()()

As Larkin walked down the flower lined path to the door at the back of her aunt's house, she heard something from inside the house. It was just a faint rustle, but it put Larkin on edge. Who's inside? She crouched down and shuffled over to the window looking into the kitchen.

Inside, everything appeared to be normal. Each appliance was in its place, and the lights were off, just as Larkin had left them.

Larkin stepped to the right, accidentally stepping on Aunt Libby's blue hydrangea. She winced, knowing how much care and effort her aunt put into those flowers. Gingerly, she removed her foot from the flowering plant, and again peered in the window from her new vantage point.

She could see into the living room. The TV was on. Why is the TV on? I didn't leave it like that, did I?

With wrinkled eyebrows, she turned wound and came face to face with her beloved aunt. She yelped in surprise, and stepped back onto the hydrangeas again.

"Larkin, why are you peering into my kitchen like a peeping Tom? You know, the windows are easier to see through if you look from the inside," said Aunt Libby. "And get off of my hydrangeas! I saw you step on them once already. Don't you think they've gone through enough?"

Still shocked that she hadn't heard her aunt approaching from behind, Larkin stumbled as she moved away from her aunt's prized flowers. "I just thought it would be cool to see what the kitchen looked like from the outside?" she offered.

"Honey, I know you haven't been here since I was home. I got home two hours ago."

"Oh, yeah. Elementary school gets out at two-thirty. I forgot."

Her aunt nodded, her mouth a grim line on her face. "Would you mind telling me where you went?"

Larkin sucked her lips into her mouth, hoping to get out of this mess as soon as possible. Her excuses were weak, and she wouldn't be able to explain to her aunt why she had used her day off to go strolling around town.

"I walked around. Nowhere. The house is small, you know."

Aunt Libby pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes infinitesimally. "Now, I want you to understand why I don't want you out and about all alone. You are your father's daughter, so whoever is trying to kill him might be trying to kill you as well. I don't want to frighten, you. I want you to be safe," Aunt Libby explained.

Larkin understood. She understood the need to protect people. She was always the one doing the protecting, however. She also decided that now would be an awful time to mention that she had, in fact, been shot at before. Note to self: never mention that to Aunt Libby. Ever.

"So... What happens now?"

"You are grounded."

Larkin deflated. This would cause issues. How am I supposed to get out of the house to go save people if I'm grounded?

()()()

Lasagna was for dinner. Larkin had to admit that it was nice to have a home-cooked meal. The absence of her parents did get the best of her, sometimes. She sat in silence with her aunt. Larkin suspected that her aunt felt bad about grounding her. Aunt Libby had never been stern or strict. Larkin had many memories of her being the 'fun' aunt.

After garlic bread and a chocolate chip cookie, Aunt Libby suggested a game of Scrabble. At first, Larkin blatantly refused.

"I can't! I can't! I'm awful at Scrabble and you know that," insisted Larkin.

"But it's so fun," said Aunt Libby. "It's my favorite."

Larkin smirked. "Why don't we play Monopoly?"

"I don't like that game."

"Because you'll lose?"

"No!" argued her aunt.

Larkin smiled at her aunt. "I guess we can play Scrabble."

After a quick game of Scrabble, they each retired to their respective room.

Larkin didn't go to sleep. She had school the next day, but she had other things on her mind. Instead of readying herself for bed, Larkin changed into her suit. She would be going out, regardless of whether her aunt allowed it or not. She had a duty.

After crossing through town a couple of times, taking out the occasional criminal, Larkin sat at the library steps. The occasional cloud wisped through the sky, covering up the moon. She was bored, but did not wish to go back to her aunt's home, so she waved her hand across the sky and watched the stars brighten and dim to her will.

Even though this power had no fighting value to it, it was Larkin's favorite. It was innocent. It brought her joy. It did not hurt people. She found it ironic that as a hero she had to fight for peace. In order to achieve one, he had to do the other.

She then focused in on single stars. She would point at one and make it brighten. She outlined a constellation above her head.

"Out for a midnight prowl?"

Larkin jumped. She decided that she needed to be more attentive from now on. She was startled much too easily for a person that had super hearing. Placing her hand over her heart, Larkin turned to her left from which she had heard the voice. No surprise, it was Black Lightning, or Finn.

"No. Just enjoying the stars after a quick street sweep."

"I see. In fact, I could see your stars from my tree house."

Larkin grinned sheepishly and hummed. "They're beautiful tonight. I couldn't resist."

Even in the darkness, she could make out the soft smile of Finn. He sat next to her on the library steps and rested his elbows on his knees. They sat and waited for the moon to set.