Snippet #2714796

That whole "falling into a vat of gold to become a superhero" thing was a good idea until she had to wake up at five in the morning.

Montréal is dark, for the most part. A number of low level miscreants claim this time of early morning as their own as graveyard duty cops muster up their courage to face the chilly morning air. Youngstown Village, a gated community clutching to the edges of lively Montréal, is silent, save for one alarm clock blaring in a teenage girl's room. Snooze.

"Heroes don't hit snooze, Dottie." Not many people would be able to tell Miranda Argent is a superhero; she could pass for a dedicated jogger at any hour. The anticipated glare and groggy sarcasm through a rough voice could clue others in to Dorothy King being more than just a teenager pulled out of bed much too early. The only reply Dot deems necessary is flipping the bird at her mentor and turning over to cherish her final few minutes of sleep before her alarm starts blaring once again.

It isn't the alarm that wakes Dot back up but rather a pair of silver arms latching onto her waist and tossing her out of bed. She barely lands on her feet, stumbling backwards and resting against the door to catch her balance. The first time Miranda did that was in training, when Dot refused to end her break; needless to say she tries to land on her feet now. Dot musters her best imitation of the Shadow's glare, but starts getting ready for morning training anyway. "I thought it'd be fun, living with my mentor. Miranda Argent, Quebec's Most Desirable Bachelorette. Party all the time! No, I live with Miss 5 AM Workouts and Kale for Dinner. This isn't California, Miranda! I swear I should just go live with my parents again. At least they don't wake me up at five in the morning..." The grumbling continues as she stomps her way through the house.

The most expensive part of the house is the gym, nestled in the basement. It was once an "apartment" of sorts- that's what the realtor called it -but it now serves a greater purpose, training a hero of tomorrow. Dot doesn't feel so heroic at this moment, yawning into her pre-workout stretches. "You know, there's a reason I go to bed at nine o'clock." Miranda jeers at her sleepy protege. Dot feigns a look of surprise, "Oh, I thought you were just old."

With a gasp of indignation, the older hero slaps her protege on the shoulder. "Hope it was worth it, because we're going straight to combat. Gold up, Goldilocks." Skipping the gymnastics warm up? Now that's just cruel. The only hope Dot has is that there isn't an emergency mission, because missions are the worst when they do full morning combat.

And what a morning it was. The final moves leave Dot face-first on the ground, her golden arm held at an uncomfortable angle behind her. Gulping down air into her deprived lungs, she pats the mat to indicate surrender. "Have mercy on me. You don't look a day over twenty." Dot huffs, resting her head against the mat so maybe it'll stop pounding. Her arm falls to the mat with a loud thump, followed by her mentor ushering her off the ground.

"You did good. Starbucks run?"

"Got it boss." Dot chimes into her own earpiece, flashing her mentor a cheeky grin. Dot swipes her frappucino, one with too much espresso for her mentor's liking, from the scruffly-looking barista and sips loudly. "What a shame, I'd be better equipped for this mission if someone hadn't done a two hour combat training this morning." Dot draws out her words in the overdramatic way she does when complaining to, well, anybody really. Miranda rolls her eyes, directing her protege towards the car. "Alright, come on drama queen. If you're late Shadow'll have my head."

The Montréal teleportation tube is nestled in the public library, mislabeled as an out-of-order bathroom. There is enough room inside for Dot to change into her costume- thankfully packed in her backpack as always -and still teleport to the base. Once dressed, she steps onto the pad and salutes her mentor. "Tell Shadow he owes me a drink!" Miranda calls after her protege, who disappears into the teleportation beam that transports her to base.

"Golden Girl. Member B-0-2."

"Reporting for duty, your Shadow-ness." Dot announces with a thick sip of her coffee.