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[right][b][i][color=79dbbc]EXTRA-ORDINARY
[sup]PART IV[/sup][/color][/i][/b][/right]

By the time Dani's key hit the lock at the end of the week, she was thoroughly and soundly beat. Five classes, each competing to see which could kick her ass the most each week, wrapped around a schedule at the station that could charitably be described as “hectic.” Dani was doing the work of three or four employees, which was far from unusual; it seemed everyone at WKNT wore enough hats to fill a haberdashery. Still, her coworkers were uniformly awesome, and the work – though tedious – made her feel connected to something bigger than herself. 

It was not an unfamiliar sensation. 

Dani's apartment was a meager thing, a converted attic unit in a building older than she was, but it was [i]hers[/i], which counted for everything in the end. With the money she'd saved, she could have sprung for something large and modern, but that smacked of the sort of materialism that drove her to independence in the first place. She had even briefly considered on-campus housing – with the notable exception of the “altered student dormitory,” as CSU officially called it – but the thought of living with people who'd known each other since freshman orientation made her feel like an interloper. She much preferred having her own sanctuary.

Shoes and backpack were discarded promptly by the door. Padding across floors so creaky that any would-be intruder would need to levitate, Dani made for her typical first port of call: the kitchenette. It was a generous term for what amounted to a fridge, a sink, an induction stove, and a couple of cabinets in the middle of what was otherwise the main living space. Retrieving a fresh Topo Chico from the half-stocked refrigerator, Dani then went to check on Lola.

Situated atop the bookcase near the window, Lola’s vines stretched halfway to the floor. She'd been a housewarming gift from Elena, who had insisted that sharing the apartment with another living thing – even a houseplant – would help combat loneliness. Dani had rolled her eyes at that, but damn if she hadn't grown attached to the thing, anyway. 

[color=#79dbbc]“I'm sorry, girl,”[/color] Dani lamented, noting the droop in the golden pothos’ leaves. She wasn't going to be in the running for “Plant Mom of the Year” anytime soon. After a quick sprinkling from a watering can she kept on the shelf, the plant seemed maybe a tad livelier. [color=#79dbbc]“I won't let it get that bad again,”[/color] she promised, not for the first time. 

While the living room was nice, particularly the skylight which bathed the whole area in a lovely glow in the early morning, Dani spent most of her time in the bedroom. The sloping exterior wall made it feel smaller than it already was, but that only added to the cozy vibe, in her opinion. She'd strung some lights along the ceiling, the multicolored kind that made her feel like she was sleeping inside a Christmas tree. The nook behind the dormer window was perfectly sized for a desk, allowing her to peer out over the street whenever she sat at her computer. 

The room was a testament to a life in progress. The bed was, as ever, unmade. Bras and other articles of clothing were strewn about at random, laying wherever they happened to come to rest. A paperback sat on the nightstand, cover folded open to the last place she'd stopped reading; some trashy romance thing she'd started as a hate read and would not, on pain of death, admit she was now invested in. Once she finished her Topo Chico, it could join the museum of disused drinking vessels collecting on her desktop.

It was amazing the difference six months could make. Her life once consisted of gunfights, supervillain battles, and primetime interviews. Now, the biggest challenge she faced was remembering to do her laundry. 

Retrieving a basket from her closet, Dani set to the task of picking up all the clothes on the floor. The outfit she'd worn that day was also eschewed in favor of an oversized tee and a comfortable pair of sweatpants. Fortunately, the nearest laundromat wasn't far: just down two flights of stairs, in fact. The E-Z Wash & Fold was owned and operated by the same Lebanese couple who lived on the floor below Dani and rented out her unit.

Having operated a laundromat within walking distance of campus for the better part of twenty years, Mohamed and Rana Nassar were practically an institution unto themselves. Mohamed made it a point to greet each and every customer, but he was terrible with names, so they were all invariably called “my dear” or “my friend.” Rana, meanwhile, seemed to view the whole of CSU’s student body as surrogates for the children they never had. He minded the storefront while she minded the books, and the laundromat kept chugging. 

Dani had not taken more than a step inside before Mohamed announced, [color=#c67a52]“Danielle!”[/color] in a great booming voice. (It had taken several months for her name to stick.) [color=#c67a52]“How are you, [i]habibti[/i]?”[/color] His voice matched his frame: large, but never imposing. He was a monument of a man, wider than he was tall, with a balding head and a short beard more gray now than black.

She offered a kind smile in return. [color=#79dbbc]“I'm well,”[/color] she assured him, already anticipating his next statement. 

[color=#c67a52]“So thin!”[/color] he remarked, clicking his tongue. [color=#c67a52]“Rana will faint at the sight of you.”[/color] He was not wrong; sometimes, it seemed she would not be happy until Dani was as thick as her husband. Just then, something across the way caused his eyes to widen. [color=#c67a52]“No, no, my friend! Please no shoes in the dryer!”[/color] With only the briefest look of apology towards Dani, he hurried off to prevent another laundromat disaster.

Dani made her way to the washers. At that hour, with so many people out enjoying their Friday night, she had her pick of the litter. In fact, the only occupied machine was not in use but currently under repair. A red toolbox sat atop the machine while a figure tinkered within the drum. Dani didn't need to guess who the handyman was; Mohamed and Rana’s nephew, Samir, handled all the shop’s repairs.

Samir was a dark-haired, dark-eyed boy only a few years Dani's elder, although he dressed and carried himself like someone even older. The son of Mohamed’s brother, he had inherited none of his uncle's characteristic warmth. Samir never used two words when one would do, and whenever he looked at Dani, she felt the distinct sensation of being judged. If she had to say something nice about him, it was that he was a dutiful nephew and handy with a wrench – which was good, because Mohamed's relationship with machinery was mercurial at best.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Samir stopped what he was doing and peered out from the broken machine. If his expression changed at seeing Dani, it was only by degrees. [color=#d4c95b]“Evening,”[/color] he said simply.

Dani almost wondered if the omission of “good” was intentional. If there was one thing she was good at, though, it was matching energy. [color=#79dbbc]“Evening,”[/color] she replied, as disinterestedly as she could manage. Of course, the only trouble was that there was no getting a rise out of him, either. The two of them simply went back to their business with nary another word exchanged. 

About halfway through Dani's load, a petite woman in a hijab approached her machine. If anyone judged Rana Nassar by her size, assuming the rail-thin woman must be submissive to her immense husband, they did not know the woman at all. She had a force of will that belied her unassuming stature. [color=#9cbf8a]“For you,”[/color] she said, presenting a Tupperware container, [color=#9cbf8a]“fresh mujaddara. I always make more than Mo and I can eat.”[/color]

Dani had long since learned that rejecting offers of food only offended the woman – and besides, Rana’s cooking was better than anything she could find on Uber Eats. [color=#79dbbc]“Thank you.”[/color]

[color=#9cbf8a]“So thin,”[/color] Rana echoed her husband's words. [color=#9cbf8a]“Your mother must worry about you day and night.”[/color]

[color=#79dbbc][i]More than you could possibly imagine.[/i][/color] She was sure if this woman knew the half of Dani's escapades, it would shock her hair white. She tended to have that effect on mothers, biological or otherwise.

Later, as Dani was stuffing her clothes in the dryer, something caught the corner of her eye. By the door, there was a bulletin board on the wall. This, in and of itself, was not unusual; Dani had seen it plenty of times. Typically, it contained any number of advertisements for local businesses, offers for guitar and piano lessons, the occasional “help wanted” ad… once even a flyer advertising a local band’s gig, which, to her surprise, hadn't completely sucked.

But tonight, a set of ominous posters drew her attention. There were three in total: missing person flyers in stark black, red, and white. The victims’ smiling faces stared back at her, all of them her own age. Dani thought back to the conversation she overheard about a missing roommate a few days ago. Two of the victims were girls; were either of them her? And the last one, the boy with shaggy hair… he was wearing a necklace in the shape of a gray Penrose triangle.

[color=#79dbbc][i]He was one of us,[/i][/color] Dani realized with concern. Maybe they [i]all[/i] were. But even if they weren't, they were still people, classmates, innocents. And so many disappearances in such a short amount of time was cause for alarm. Dani looked away from the board, from the faces frozen in time. She stared at the clothes tumbling in the dryer and tried to let herself be hypnotized. It wasn't her responsibility, not anymore. Calder was brimming with heroes. Someone else could handle it. 

She didn't even notice the tension in her fists or the fluorescents overhead beginning to flicker.