“Would I pick flying again?”
Jessica pauses. You can hear sirens in the background, probably from the dumpster fire she just crash-landed into… again.
“I mean, yeah, flying’s cool… until you accidentally headbutt a billboard. Or get chased by pigeons.”
She straightens her mask. It’s slightly melted on one side.
“But I show up. Every time. Even when it sucks. Even when I don’t think I’m enough.”
She’s not flashy. She’s not famous. But every night, Drift takes to the skies, trying to help, because someone with powers has to try.
And if no one else will be the hero… she’ll do it. Somehow.