When the waiters saw James get up, they exchanged expectant glances which quickly turned to looks of annoyance as he continued past them and out the door. One of their number approached Karen, a look of forced politeness plastered on his face. “Would madam like the bill now?” he inquired innocently.
“I’ll have another glass of water, please,” she replied, trying her best to avoid eye contact.
When James returned, he had a distracted, worried expression on his face, and she automatically assumed the worst.
“Oh God, what is it? Please tell me no one died.”
“No, nothing like that, don’t worry.”
He stayed standing by the edge of the table, not taking his seat, and Karen looked him over for any obvious signs of injury. Had he been hurt?
“Then what is it? Come on, we were just starting to be honest with each other. Don’t stop now.”
He sighed, and she knew then that she was going to regret her words.
“Karen, I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore. I don’t know why I thought I could. It was selfish of me to drag you into my life—we’ve spent more time apart than together this evening.”
He was staring at the floor as he spoke, and she wondered if this was due to guilt or some fear that seeing her hurt expression would dent his resolve. For all his strength, at that moment, he looked completely out of his element.
“I know that, and I can’t say I preferred my own company, but I understand the reasons now, I know it’s not your fault. And that’s not to say that next time wouldn’t be better.”
She wondered whether she really believed that. His response made it clear that he entertained no such illusions.
“That’s just the thing. Next time would be the same, and the time after that, and the time after that. It comes with the life I’ve chosen.”
“That may be, but don’t you deserve a life of your own?”
“Maybe, but there are five hundred thousand people in this city. Against that, what I want out of life doesn’t seem very important.”
He bent down and kissed her on the cheek. “Goodbye, Karen,” he whispered. “Thanks for everything.”
Then she was left alone in the deserted restaurant, trying to process what had just happened. She didn’t know whether to curse him for abandoning her, pity him for his lack of personal life, or admire him for his devotion to the city. Then her thoughts were interrupted by a firm cough from beside her.
“Your bill, madam,” exclaimed the waiter, placing the invoice in front of her.
Curse him, she decided. Definitely curse him.
By the time that Karen emerged onto the street, her mood was as dark as the evening sky. She had barely managed to scrape together enough money to pay the bill, leaving her with nothing to use for the cab fare home. Displeased at having their night extended, the restaurant staff hadn’t even provided her with the traditional after-dinner mint. It had truly been the perfect night.
As she walked through the quiet streets, her high heels clacking on the pavement, she cursed herself for being taken in by James and his stories. She should have known all too well the lies that men were capable of spinning. He’d obviously just wanted a free meal and had played her for a fool. Perhaps, in another restaurant, a different woman had been left alone at a table, listening in awe to James’ stories each time he returned to her.
A superhero, of all things! How stupid and desperate he must have thought she was to believe his lies? After all, what proof did he really give her? A glimpse of a logo that might have been printed on a t-shirt, and a steak that was reheated. He must have been laughing to himself the whole way home.
“Excuse me, Miss.”
The voice startled her, and she spun around, instantly on the defensive. What greeted her was the sight of the White Knight, in full costume, hovering in the air before her.
“J... James?” she managed to ask, forcing the words out through lips that were suddenly dry.
The White Knight gently floated down to the ground until he was standing right in front of her. He removed his domino mask and even in the dull glow of the streetlight she could tell that it was James now standing before her.
“I’m really sorry about leaving you like that,” he began. “It’s not the most superheroic thing I’ve ever done.”
“You can say that again,” she replied, still trying to process the strange sight before her. “Next time you abandon a girl in a restaurant, maybe do her a favor and make sure it’s a less expensive one.”
He blushed then, and it helped to humanize the person before her. For all of his obvious physical strength, his visible awkwardness made the scene feel almost like a child playing dress up.
“That’s part of the reason I wanted to find you,” he admitted. “I’m not used to carrying a wallet anymore—as a general rule, spandex isn’t the most forgiving of materials.”
There was a pause then, the awkward kind found on a million first dates throughout the world where two people evaluate the other, establishing whether the risk is worth the reward.
“I’m sorry, I’ll leave you in peace now,” he offered. “I know this hasn’t been the kind of night you wanted—that I wasn’t the kind of man you wanted—but I just wanted you to know that I wish I could have made it better for you.”
Karen shrugged, purposefully trying to keep the conversation light. “Believe me, I’ve been on dates that turned out a lot worse than this one. And I can definitely say that this has been one of the most memorable.”
“That’s good,” he smiled. “Well, I’m glad I could help with that, at least.”
He pulled his mask down and arranged his cape over his shoulders. Then he turned away and broke into a jog, ready to leap into the air.
“Wait!”
While he came to an abrupt stop, the cape kept moving, floating up and draping itself over his head. When he managed to extract himself from its clutches, he stood a little straighter in front of her, attempting to regain his dignity. “Is everything okay?” he asked.
“I just wanted to say that I know tonight wasn’t perfect, but how about next time you come to my place, and I can cook for you? There will be no waiters giving me the stink eye, and you can maybe bring back a bottle of wine from your travels.”
“You want to see me again? Really?”
She tried not to smile at his expression of pure surprise. She couldn’t blame him—she’d surprised herself when she called him back.
“Well, actually, I just have some odd jobs I need some help with. You did say you had to help everyone, right?”
He laughed then, a genuine hearty chuckle. “That sounds lovely. I’m scheduled to save the world on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, but an alien invasion on Saturday was cancelled, so I do have a gap at the moment.”
“You really know how to make a girl feel wanted,” she teased. “Do you know where I stay?”
“No, but if you let me take you home, then you can show me.”
He extended his hand and gave her a reassuring smile, and, for a moment, she was torn. Playful banter was one thing, but how sure was she about this? Had she learned nothing from her past dating disasters?
She reached out and took his hand, and he pulled her close, holding her tight in his arms.
“Hold on tight now,” he advised. “I’m afraid I left the seatbelts in my spare costume.”
She closed her eyes, enjoying the closeness and the feel of the wind against her face. Later she might come to regret this, or James might prove himself as disappointingly human as all her other ex-partners. For now, though, it felt like she was walking on air.
A Word From Gary Smith
I’ve loved superheroes since I was young, and when I realised that my search for a radioactive spider was unlikely to be successful, I decided to write about and research superheroes instead. I’ve taught University courses on Marvel Comics, written for Comic Book Resources and The Big Glasgow Comics Page, and work with schoolchildren on superheroes
and storytelling techniques. My ongoing YA series, The Mentaleeze Chronicles, follows a group of ordinary teens who develop extraordinary powers, while my children’s book—The Supervillain Next Door—will be out in early 2019.
Broken Nights: Shock and Awe
By Matthew Davenport
Chapter 1
Jason Night enjoyed the walk up the stone steps into the Darden Valley Credit Union more than he thought he should. It gave him the feeling of walking into a museum in some much bigger city. Of course, that happy thought was tainted by scars on the stairs and the credit union itself from the battle between Samson, a man with impossible strength, and Jason’s secret persona as the city’s protector, the Darden Valley Guardian.
Still, the repairs and renovations had happened quickly, and even with the few gouges that were still visible, Jason found joy in his walk up the steps and through the large doors. It was Friday, and Friday meant deposit day for The Hobby Trunk: his small board games and models shop.
Once inside, Jason approached the teller, adjusting his pleather money bag under his arm so he could pull out his phone and turn it to silent. Banks were like libraries, at least to Jason, and he felt that any jarring noise was made increasingly so by the ambient silent energy of the place. Besides, nobody was going to call him in the next ten minutes that couldn’t wait.
“Why isn’t he answering his damned phone,” the digital copy of Jason’s sister, Amy, shouted from the speakers that lined the walls throughout The Hobby Trunk.
Alan, the clerk at the hobby shop and longtime friend of the Night family, left his bench where he had been repairing the Guardian’s gauntlets and speed-walked to the nearest Microsoft Hololens headset. When he put it on, the clear lenses showed the room, but also a screen created with augmented reality technology showing a security camera feed aimed at a street somewhere in Darden Valley. Next to the nonexistent screen was a digital avatar of an almost identical representation of the once-living Amy Night.
“Who? Jason?” Alan asked. “If he’s at the bank, he would have turned off his phone. You know this.”
“That’s the problem,” Amy reached forward and spread her hands apart. In response, the security feed zoomed in, and Alan could make out a small car parked on the sidewalk leading to the Darden Valley Credit Union. “If his phone is muted,” Amy demanded, “how can I tell him about that?”
Before Alan could ask what Amy was talking about, three people exited the car. Alan noticed the one person staying in the car before the weapons in the others’ hands. They each had a pistol.
Pulling ski masks over their faces, they started the march up the scarred steps of the Darden Valley Credit Union.
If there was anything Jason hated about banks, it was the same thing that he hated about any place, and that was the wait. He was the fourth in line for attention from the tellers. A little over a year ago, he would have still hated the wait, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as bad. On the same night his sister died and been transferred into a computer system, the same process had left Jason with enhanced mental processes. This meant that, among other things, his brain moved at a faster pace than the average person. While incredibly helpful as the Darden Valley Guardian, it was equally as frustrating for the average daily citizen, Jason Night.
It was these same enhanced abilities which allowed him to take in every aspect of the bank with great detail and had alerted him almost instantly to the three persons wearing ski masks as they came through the doors.
Jason’s first instinct was to step forward and disarm them before anyone noticed them. Unfortunately, to do so would involve telling everyone present that Jason was more than just a man who owned a hobby store. Without taking his eyes off of the three, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. A quick glance at the screen showed Amy’s face along with several missed calls and texts. He cursed himself and looked around as he tried to weigh his options.
If he stepped forward and began disarming the gunmen, Jason had no doubt at least one of the tellers would recognize him as the Guardian. There were only so many in Darden Valley that could move like the Guardian, and it would only take one who knew Jason to make a connection between the two.
As quickly as his mind was working, Jason was running out of time.
Other customers in the credit union had taken note of the three. With his enhanced senses, Jason had to choose the best approach that would stop the customers from getting shot by the assailants.
Jason dropped to his knees and raised his arms before shouting, “Don’t shoot me! Please, don’t shoot me.”
Everyone’s attention snapped to Jason, and then to the three in balaclavas. The credit union was filled with gasps quickly evolving into screams before the closest man in a mask raised his gun into the air and fired it once.
“Quiet,” he shouted as the customers all dropped to their knees. The screams didn’t entirely disappear so much as shift into a mix of whimpers and mumbles.
“You,” the woman in the balaclava took quick steps to the nearest teller window and tossed a bag at the man behind the counter. “Fill that with,” she paused and tilted her head to the side, and Jason recognized the slight bulge under her mask above her ear, “as much as you can in big bills.”
A quick glance at the other two gunmen affirmed Jason’s suspicions that they were all on headsets and they seemed more afraid than confident. The Guardian had seen plenty of criminals mid-crime-spree, and while they might normally be afraid or nervous, they tended to rally themselves during the event. This was something else. These robbers seemed unsure of themselves like they didn’t know what was going to happen next.
“Are you stupid?” The woman next to Jason, a short-haired redhead wearing a denim jacket a few sizes too big and covered in colorful patches bearing symbols of things Jason didn’t recognize, climbed to her feet.
The first gunman stepped toward her, raising his gun. It was shaking, but still close enough not to matter.
“What did you say?” He demanded.
The shaking gun didn’t seem to phase her as she stepped closer and increased her volume. “I asked you if you were stupid? Look around you.” She waved her hand, indicating the walls and the floor of the bank. The gunman tensed at the movement. “They could have fixed this place up so you’d never’ve known what had happened here, but instead they filled the cracks, smoothed over the dents, and made it very easy to see what happens to idiots who try to rob them.”
As if he hadn’t seen them before, the gunman looked at the scars from the Guardian’s previous battle in the credit union. The Darden Valley Credit Union chose to accentuate them during their repairs out of an assumed sense of pride in their local protector as well as for the aesthetic and security they provided.
The masked man’s head tilted, only slightly, to the side, casting his eyes downward.
“No,” he said before repeating it. He said it a third time before tipping his head back and staring at the ceiling.
He took four deep and loud breaths, muttering, ramping himself up. He was just given an order from his hidden earpiece. An order he didn’t want to obey.
After the fourth deep breath, he brought his head down and the gun up, aimed at the vocal redhead.
Jason’s heightened mental processes bought him more time than the denim-clad woman beside him. He shoved her aside and toward the teller windows while twisting away in the opposite direction. The gun fired, blasting tile and flooring into shards behind them. Jason only had a small window in which he could move. Allowing his twist to continue, he brought his forearm down on the hand holding the pistol and sent a quick jab with the side of his hand into the man’s throat.
The gunman released his pistol to clutch his throat. Jason used that distraction to make a clumsy tackle that took them both to the ground. There were more than a few more effective takedowns that Jason could have used, but at this point, everyone’s eyes were on him, and he needed to look less capable.
They hit the gr
ound together as the third assailant stomped over to grab at Jason’s collar. Before he made his way to them, Jason pressed his mouth against the side of the balaclava that didn’t have the earpiece and whispered, “Stay down. I can get you out of this, but not if you don’t stay down.” His eyes met Jason’s with fear and confusion before he closed them and went limp.
That was when the third robber grabbed Jason’s shirt and pressed the pistol to the back of his head. Jason waited to hear any indication that the man was going to pull the trigger but it never came.
Instead, the gunman thumped Jason over the back of his head with the butt of the gun. While Jason probably wouldn’t have blacked out anyway, this wasn’t the hit of a professional. Pretending to black out, Jason went limp and collapsed to the floor.
He kept his attention as focused as he could with his eyes closed and tried not to move, but there was no longer any need for heroes. Through his eyelashes, he could see the two remaining bank robbers, guns aimed at the tellers, waiting for the bag to be filled. Once that was done, they scooped up their third, and left.
Chapter 2
“Stop turning your phone off,” Amy was practically shouting at her brother over the speakers. The large steel door in The Hobby Trunk basement slid open, and Jason entered.
He ignored her and asked, “Were you able to listen in on their headsets?”
“They were wearing headsets?” Alan asked, typing on one of Amy’s terminals.
Jason nodded, “They were getting directions from someone. It was obvious they didn’t want to be there.”
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