Sometimes when she was flying over the city, looking for what other people would deem "trouble," Needy kinda felt like Superman. She was fast, strong, hard to kill, had those enhanced senses going on, and duh, she could fly.
Okay, really, it was like a cheap knockoff version of him, since she wasn't as fast, as strong, as hard to kill, and her senses weren't as enhanced. Oh, and she couldn't fly as fast, either. Plus she didn't have that laser vision or super breath or rock allergies or anything else like that. But whatever. The point was still there.
Mostly she felt like that on the nights that she flew over the city, keeping her eyes and ears open for something to do. Someone to at least punch, since killing was, you know. Kinda frowned upon in Lawrence. Which she found funny since that's what most of the people around seemed to specialize--killing one thing or another.
It didn't take her all that long to hear an obvious beat-down starting up, so she quickly turned herself in that direction. By the time she got there no one was facing the front of the alley any more, either. They'd turned to face their little pint-sized attacker. Lucky for the kid, Needy knew who she was, so she knew that these douches had to be, well, the douches in the equation. Had anyone been looking it would have seemed like she dropped out of the sky, too. Which, you know, she had. But Needy didn't stop to dwell on that for long.
Instead she moved in quickly, stopping once she was caddy-corner from one of the jerks, and gave him a superkick face-first into one of the brick walls that lined the alley. If he got back up in the next hour he would be lucky.