Not My Problem

The fridge hums - It hums in a set rhythm of notes.
Its a weirdly calm melody for a littered living space.
The perfect white noise for the most uncomfortable sleep on the couch - Well, it's a giant burnt teddy bear, covered with a car cover, but the woman sleeping on top of it calls it a couch, so it's a couch.

The sweat puddled into her back is a constant reminder that polyester car covers weren't the best choice of fabric, and that September should definitely be considered part of summer. Its so fucking hot and the air conditioning is basically nonexistent. 

Her hair is bundled up - Not in a hair bun or a ponytail or any other hairstyle. It is bound in a tight yet stretchable material that she...Yep, she forgot to take off her mask. 

Her body is sprawled out, with her right hand stretching out to the edge of her teddy-couch. There is also an ID cradled in her semi-closed palm, almost on the verge of slipping out. 

Written in slick professional font, protected behind the smudged lamenting film, is:

"Carmine Bellsick : BELLOW
    OFFICALLY CERTIFIED HERO"

Her grip on the ID tightens, as the grimy ambience of the room is suddenly broken - Broken by a piercing ringtone. A very high pitched vocal track, accompanied by guitar riffs.

"Aaah..." Carmine groans into the stifling air of the room. The ringing continues and she shuffles around the couch, rumpling the sweaty covers as she pats herself down. She realizes that this isn't even her ringtone. "...the fuck..?"

It's coming from the kitchen.

Carmine sits up and yanks off her mask - The red line across her face is downright comical. She stumbles towards the kitchen counter. The electric shock, which runs through her ankle, reminds her of the evening's chase.

The running.
The jumps and crashes.
The punk who tripped her, and the yeti bastard who blasted her with a wooden club. She got their asses in the end. For her troubles, she got paid with gratitude and 'Kool-Pie' vouchers.

She finds that the noise is coming from her belt, the one hanging from the counter. It's adorned with small packs on each side. It could just be called a 'utility belt' but she refuses to use that term -  No way. She refuses to embrace the cliché,

The vibrations and the ringing grow more coherent as she grips the pack on the left side. Carmine takes out a cellphone and it's definitely not hers - It belongs to one of the guys she had had arrested and it seems like she had forgotten to turn it in. 

The phone vibrates in her hand, almost like it's cursing at her. Carmine clicks the answer button and mutters:

"Hello?"

The line goes dead for the next few seconds.
Did it get cut off?
She pulls back the phone and glances at the lit screen. The call was indeed connected.  Just as she puts the phone back to her ear, she hears a long *BEEEEP*.

Now it's definitely hung up.

She lets out a sigh and checks out the time on the phone. She still has a few hours until morning. More than enough to feel barely rested. The phone is left on the counter and she settles back onto the couch. A few minutes pass and she almost dozes off, when suddenly a very familiar vocal track starts blaring from across the room.

Nice. Just fucking nice. 

"Tch!"  Carmine is on the edge of losing her shit. She maneuvers off her couch and answers the phone with a very controlled:

"hello?"

"..."

She takes a shaky inhale. All the small bruises under her latex suit keep pricking at her, pushing her to the edge of madness - Almost like a board of needles brushing against an overfilled water balloon. 

"Okay...whoever this is..." She starts her sentence with controlled emotions. She is almost composed until she can't hold it in anymore. The balloon pops. "The person you are trying to call is behind FUCKING bars, so kindly stop FUCKING ringing this line IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING NIGHT!"

Extra grit was placed on the finishing words of her sentence, as she gets ready for a shouting match. The line glitches and Carmine tilts her head, drawing in a shallow breath, preparing herself with the most vilest curses. There is no stopping her now-

"..I...so-sorry...i did not...your voice....so I...hung up...sorry."

Carmine stops herself from even letting out a single syllable. She had prepared herself for disgusting slurs, not for a shaky-fragile voice. 

She blinks a few times.
It was not just the words which threw her in a state of delirium. It was the tone of the voice - The soft voice of a child. 

First came a wave of confusion, followed by realization, and then the dawning exasperation. Cursing at a kid? Wow, such a fine hero. She rubs her eyes in irritation, as she carefully chooses her next words.

"...shit..." she mutters away from the phone. Carmine ceases her rubbing, as she puts the phone back to her ear. "Umm...yeah sorry kid. Does this number belong to someone you know?"

There is a pause on the other side.
Carmine can almost visualize a little kid taking in the question and forming an answer. After a long 10 seconds, the voice, still a bit weak, starts answering.

"My brother....It's his..."

Carmine does a quick lookback in her mind. The profiles of the two deviants float into her vision. The yellow head with a slit eyebrow, and the yeti-man who spoke in gargles and growls. The answer seems quite clear, yet she still makes sure.

"Does he have yellow hair?"

"Yes." The voice simmers down for a bit. Almost like the kid is visualizing her brother and then she speaks with a bit more assurance. "Yes, he does have yellow hair."

"How old are you?" Carmine tries to limit her questions to essential information, but she also needs a name. "Can you tell me your name?"

"I'm Marci...I'm...umm...10."

Carmine takes in the information.
She notes the kid's nervousness as she prepares her next statement. She goes over her own thoughts and clears her throat before speaking in a collected tone.

"Look Marci, your brother is at a secure jailing house right now."

Carmine holds for a reaction.
Shock, sadness, fear but all she hears back is a monotone:

"...oh..."

"You can probably visit him next week, when he is moved to the local jail. Do you have anyone to take care of you until then?"

There is a long silence. 
Almost to the point where Carmine thinks the line has been cut off again, but then the girl's shaky voice filters in with a heavier tone.

"...yeah..."

Carmine had never heard a more 'no' sounding 'yeah'. 
But she jumps at the possibility of not caring. She ends the call with a cold:
"Okay, take care and listen to them, buh-bye."

And then she plopped back into her couch and slept until her alarm rang, waking up with a somewhat rested body.

Except...that's not what happened.

Turns out 'minding your own business', isn't all its cranked up to be. 
A few minutes later, the phone rings again and she already knows who it is. She isn't as reluctant to pick up - The constant fear about the kid's wellbeing would have kept her awake anyways.

Carmine answers with a slow inhale, but this time her voice has less annoyance and more concern.

 "Marci?"

"...sorry..."

The voice is smaller and weaker.
Carmine feels...off. 
She starts to understand the desperation of the child. No one would want to bother a stranger at night, not unless there is no other option. It's a strange guilt she feels - The guilt of making a little kid feel like a burden. 

Carmine decides to save her own character judgment for later - First she needs to deal with the situation at hand.

"Hold on. I'll call someone to pick-"

"IS IT...is it the police?..." 

Carmine pauses as she takes in girl's tone. There is a layer of alarm mixed in with the shaky nervousness - She makes a quick instinctual guess about the girl's distrust of the authorities, and responds accordingly.

"N-No, not the police." she shuffles around her drawers, until she finds the business card for the Superhuman Family Rehabilitation (SFR). "Just a few of my friends who can help you."

The call is hung up before the girl can respond. Carmine scratches the bridge of her nose, as she dials the SFR through her own phone. It doesn't take long before the call is connected and the almost-dead tone voice of the night shift respondent comes through. 

"SFR, what can I do for you?"

"Hi, I'm looking for assistance regarding a family member of a criminal. The one captured today? At the Kool-Pie down south?"

"One moment." the worker groans and Carmine can hear the keyboard being rattled - One key at a time. "Are they related to the Yeti-Man?"

"No, it's a yellow haired dude? With a cut on his-"

"Ma'am, we only have one *super* human convict, that has been arrested in the area specified."

His emphasis on the word 'super' makes her realize that the yellow head would be classified as a normal criminals. As soon as she connects the dots, she tries to hold the conversation.

"Wait, but the guy was an accomplice, isn't it-"

"Sorry Ma'am but we only deal with superhuman situations, so this is not within our jurisdiction, can I help you with anything else?"

The unbothered tone of his voice made so many words flow through her mind - Each of them can make a saint pass out. Carmine grips her phone and she takes in a deep breathe. Her reply is:

"No, thank you."

The call is cut off from the other end.

As soon as the call disconnects, she lets out all *inappropriate* words, stored in her vocabulary. 

This is just ridiculous! Its middle of the night. The room is hotter than the devil's booty hole. Her body is barely functioning and now she has to deal with this crap? She isn't even related to this!  JUST CALL THE AUTHORITIES!
Yep, she should just call the police. She tried her best, but this is not her problem. There is absolutely no way that she will-

"What's your address, kid?"