Lady Superior

by Alex Ziebart

  “The hostages are okay now, right?”

  “Oh, yeah. They’re fine. A reporter talked to the lady and she said she’d be dead if superchick hadn’t shown up.”

  Kristen nodded along. She recalled Tom’s dad was an officer, and decided to press the angle. “What did the cops say about it? Was there another press conference?”

  Tom shrugged. “Yeah, but those conferences are just cop PR. The Chief did his whole thing about superchick being a dangerous vigilante, bringing her to justice, whatever. My dad, though? He says people who put their boots on the ground are thrilled. Whoever she’s taking out, there isn’t a cop in town who wants to deal with it. Can you blame them? Weirdos roll into town with military hardware? The job is dangerous enough. If they can sit back and watch instead of putting their necks on the line—or calling in the National Guard—that’s great.”

  “Really? They’re thrilled about it? They were shooting at her the other night. And almost got run over by a truck because of her.”

  “Sure, but what’d she do? She wasn’t driving the truck. She ran into the line of fire to get them away from the truck. If they thought she was a baddie before, they don’t anymore.” Tom paused to flash a smile at a customer walking through the door, then continued. “The only thing they’re worried about is—are there more of her? It’s a Pandora’s Box thing. This woman opened it.”

  She had, hadn’t she? Even if she wasn’t the only one, she’d been the first caught on camera. According to Jane, there were thousands of people like her. Until her, nobody knew about any of them. Hell, if Jane was right, the changelings had been operating for thousands of years, and nobody knew about them, either. Now that Kristen had gotten in their way, people were seeing them—and asking questions about them.

  She wondered if it was her fault Todd had gotten wrapped up with Delphi and the changelings. If she understood correctly, those things hadn’t been in motion very long. Did she somehow inspire Delphi to make a move? Did she reveal something? Provide an opportunity? Open a door—a box?

  Tom cocked his head. “Hey, you okay?”

  Kristen snapped back to attention. “Uh, yeah. I’m okay. Why?”

  “You look spooked all of a sudden.”

  She flashed a sheepish smile. “I guess I am. It’s scary stuff, right? It’s all fun and games until it’s real. Then it’s people dying, buildings falling down…anyway, I really need to talk to Bernice. You said she’s in the back?”

  “Yup. Catch you on the way out?” he asked, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  Messenger bag bouncing against her hip, Kristen beelined for the back office. The place was packed, and a casual stroll through the aisles would have been a good way to get roped into small talk.

  Though she garnered a few wandering eyes, she pushed through the door to the back room without incident. Bernice, sitting at her desk, glanced up from a stack of paperwork. Her eyes went wide. She leapt from her chair and ran across the room to throw her arms around Kristen in a tight hug. “Qué chingados, Kris! Why didn’t you call me?”

  Kristen chuckled and shared in the embrace. “I’d tell you why, but you’d think I’m an asshole.”

  Bernice pushed her away. “You didn’t call me. You’re already an asshole.”

  Kristen set her messenger bag down beside Bernice’s desk. “I didn’t call you because you didn’t wait for me to tell you I had superpowers.”

  “Oh, fuck off. You’re mad at me about that? No, Kris. No. It doesn’t work that way.” Bernice jammed a finger at her own chest. “I’m the one that gets to be mad. You tried keeping something from me.”

  Kristen pulled her into another hug. “Come on, it’s not like that. I’m not mad you figured it out. I just wanted my storybook moment. You know, show up on your doorstep full of bullets before you know what I am—the big reveal. But I didn’t get that, so…I let you hang a little bit.”

  Bernice wormed out of the hug. Her eyebrows wrinkled, but Kristen didn’t see any real anger there. “Well, I don’t appreciate it, okay? And did you even think that through? If you showed up at my house before I knew you had superpowers, I’d have called an ambulance. And they’d have talked to the cops. And then you’d be in a hospital in handcuffs, and they’d know who you were because I’d have told them. That’s what you wanted?”

  “If you want my honest answer, I just like it when you yell at me in Spanish.”

  Bernice scowled.

  Kristen broke into giggles as she knelt down and fished in her bag. “Sorry. But yeah, I’m alright. Calling Jane was the right thing to do. And honestly, leaving you hanging was only half on purpose. I got distracted with that whole a family was taken hostage thing. If you’re done being mad at me, I was hoping you’d help me with something.”

  “What kind of something?” Bernice looked down at her from the corner of her eye. “Superhero stuff? Can’t say I have any experience with that.”

  “Neither do I.” Kristen popped up and thrust a sheaf of papers at Bernice. “But no, nothing like that. I was looking at apartments online this morning. What do you think of these?”

  Bernice fell back into her desk chair and flipped through the pages. “You could’ve saved the paper and emailed me.”

  “Then I wouldn’t have had an excuse to swing by.”

  “Why are you looking to move?”

  Kristen hopped up and sat on the corner of Bernice’s desk. “I want a bigger place to Emma can move in. Her boyfriend’s a dick.”

  “She still with Chad?”

  “Yep.”

  “You can’t trust a dude named Chad.”

  “That’s what I said!”

  Bernice passed the pages back. “I don’t think you should go with any of those.”

  Kristen tilted her head. “Why not? They seem nice. Plenty of space, decent neighborhoods…”

  “That’s the thing,” Bernice interrupted. “The bigger the apartment, the less it makes sense to live in one. A small apartment is cheaper than a small house. But if you can afford the rent on a big apartment like the ones you’re looking at, you can afford the mortgage on a decent house. In this part of town, anyway. The rules might be different in LA, but we’re not in LA. If you want to move up, there’s only three reasons someone might not want to buy a house. Number one: you can’t make the down payment. Number two: you fucked up your credit so bad nobody will give you a mortgage. Number three: you don’t think your job is going to last very long, and in that case, you don’t move into a bigger place to begin with because that’s just not smart. If number three is your problem, Emma’s gonna have to settle for sleeping next to your stinky gym clothes.”

  Kristen chewed the inside of her cheek. She hadn’t thought about any of that; that was why she’d wanted Bernice’s help in the first place. Kristen shook her head. “I don’t know. Seems like a boneheaded move these days. Shit happens.”

  Bernice leaned back in her chair and swiveled to face Kristen directly. “Temple Financial gave you a job. I don’t think you’re the kind of person they can decide to replace one day. There’s a nice-ass house for sale on my block for one hundred and eighty-five thousand. On a thirty-year mortgage, you’ll pay a little over a grand every month. If you’re making as much as you told me, that’s one paycheck per month. Those apartments you’re showing me aren’t much cheaper than that.”

  Kristen held up fingers as she spoke, counting off items. “But then I’d pay my own water bill, my own energy bill, my own repairs, property taxes…”

  Bernice looked at the ceiling as she performed the math in her head. “About an extra six hundred per month. I didn’t count the repairs, but if you’re buying a nice place and take good care of it, there won’t be as much of that as you think.”

  “In other words, the actual cost is almost twice as much as the most expensive apartment I showed you.”

  “Let’s put it this way: before taxes, you’re making about four thousand per month with Temple. High
estimate, a house and all of its bills would cost you half of your monthly income. You put half of the remaining half—a thousand dollars—into savings every single month. That leaves you another thousand to use for groceries and whatever else you want. It’s just you, or maybe you and Emma. Do you need a thousand dollars of groceries every month? If not, buy a house.”

  “What if I want a new car?”

  “What’s that sedan you’ve been driving around?”

  “Jane let me borrow it. It isn’t mine.”

  “It’s her car?”

  “It’s a company car, I guess.”

  “Then you don’t need a car. You tell Temple you need to keep that one to do your job. And then you tell Temple to give you the best rate they can offer on a mortgage and waive the down payment.”

  Kristen scrunched her face. “I can’t just go making demands.”

  “Like hell you can’t.” Bernice’s hands animated as she spoke. “You’re not just hard to replace, Kris. You’re irreplaceable. Nobody else can do what you do. They’re one of the largest financial institutions on the planet. Temple giving you a car is like a normal person giving somebody a piece of gum. And it’s not like these things wouldn’t help you do your job. You need a car to get around. Your own house would give you privacy—privacy that I’d call essential to having a secret identity.”

  Kristen was silent as she thought about it. Bernice had a point.

  Bernice held up a finger again. “Hold on. Privacy. You want Emma to move in with you. Does she know?”

  Kristen shook her head. “No. And I’m not going to tell her.”

  Bernice looked Kristen in the eyes. “If you’re going to live together, you aren’t going to have a choice. You can’t wear that wig all day, every day. It has to come off sometime.”

  “Sure. When I’m doing hero stuff.”

  For a moment, Bernice looked like she might explode. She reeled it in, took a breath, and started again in a calm voice. “You’re going to talk to Temple. They’re going to help you buy a house. They’re going to give you a car. Do whatever you want with Emma, that part isn’t my business. You know what is my business, though?”

  “What?”

  Bernice scooped a pile of comic books from the far side of her desk and dropped them in Kristen’s lap. Kristen grimaced. “This again?”

  “You have to pick a name, and I’m not letting you out of this room until you do.”

  Kristen rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you’re going to stop the girl with superpowers from escaping your office.”

  “You’re going to disappoint your best friend?”

  “Don’t try guilting me.”

  Bernice threw her arms out in an exaggerated shrug. “If I wanted to guilt you, I’d say you’d have an easier time paying for a nice place if you were selling your own merchandise. But if you want Emma with a dude named Chad for the rest of her life, then…”

  Kristen bopped Bernice on the head with the pile of comics. “Don’t say it. I just wish it wasn’t these comics. Don’t I have any options that are less…shit?”

  “Nope.” Bernice leaned forward. A mischievous smirk bloomed on her lips. “If you pick one, I’ll speak Spanish for you.”

  Kristen gave her a look that said I am not amused. Bernice replied by running her tongue across her upper lip. Kristen feigned a shiver of disgust. “You’re such a creep. Why am I friends with you?”

  “You probably love me or something stupid like that.”

  “Nah.” Kristen shook her head. “That doesn’t sound right. Seriously though, picking something from this shit pile is torture and you know it.”

  “Then close your eyes and pick one.”

  Kristen shrugged and did just that. Blindly, she chose one from the stack and passed it to Bernice. Bernice laughed. “Good choice.”

  Kristen looked over. The Rhinelander. She took it back and threw it across the room. More serious now, she flipped through the covers, setting the absolutely not items on the floor. She narrowed it down to a few heroes who didn’t conjure up immediate revulsion. She finally held one up. “This one. Lady Superior. It sounds…super.”

  Bernice side-eyed the book. “Sounds like a nun.”

  “A nun? What?”

  “The boss nun of a convent is called Lady Superior.”

  Kristen looked at the cover again. The woman depicted on it certainly didn’t seem like a nun. She wore a glorified one-piece bathing suit that revealed more breast and butt cheek than it covered, and was posed in such a way that both faced the reader simultaneously.

  Broken-spine syndrome.

  “I don’t care. That’s the name I want. The rest of them suck harder than an industrial vacuum. But whoever draws this thing is putting more clothes on her. No cleavage. No ass cheek.”

  Bernice rubbed her face. “You’re going with the nun? Are you for real?”

  “Is she a nun in the comic? You said this guy names his heroes after Midwest stuff. I guessed she was named for the lake.”

  “No, you’re right. She’s named for the lake. Doesn’t mean she doesn’t sound like a nun. But if you want it, I guess I’ll make it happen.”

  Kristen took a pencil from Bernice’s desk. She drew three overlapping circles on the back of the apartment listings, like the design Jane had shown her on the park bench, then erased the lines that didn’t overlap any other part. She passed the symbol that remained to Bernice. “I want that on the costume. It’s called a triquetra.”

  Bernice looked it over, then cast a yet more dubious glance at Kristen. “You pick Lady Superior, and you want this on your costume?”

  “Yeah, sure. What’s the problem?”

  “This is a symbol for the Trinity.” Bernice waited a beat to see if Kristen would say anything, but she didn’t, so she went on. “You know, the Christian Trinity. Father, Son, Holy Spirit?”

  Kristen shook her head. “No it isn’t. It’s body, mind, and soul.”

  “It’s Christian, Kris. You’re not even Christian. Why do you want to be Bible Girl?”

  “It’s not Christian. It has nothing to do with religion.”

  Bernice put her head in her hands. “Even if you don’t think so, that is what it means. And you already picked the name Sister Jesus. You can’t do that.”

  You’re not just hard to replace, Kris. You’re irreplaceable.

  Kristen hopped off of the desk and turned to face Bernice fully. She set her feet, ready to stand her ground. “That’s the name I picked. That’s my symbol. If you’re not cool with that, then we’re calling it off. I’m not going to be The Rhinelander. I’m not going to be The Husker. I’m abso-fucking-lutely not The Milkmaid. Or Miss Hochunk. Because first of all, I’m not Native American. Second, I’m pretty sure that’s racist.”

  “What about Mad Madison?”

  Kristen squinted at her. “Does putting mad in my name seem like a good idea to you?”

  “Better than being a nun.”

  “Superior, Bernice. Superpowers. Superior. Get it?”

  Bernice groaned. “Yeah, I know. I get it. And the symbol, too? That’s the part that kills it for me, Kris. The name and the symbol.”

  “Body. Mind. Soul. It’s like…it’s a message, okay? Striving to be the best. In every possible way. Strong, smart, and a good person.”

  “Fine.” Bernice threw her arms out. “Okay. I’ll talk to this guy and see if I can get that for you. Where do you want the symbol?”

  Kristen shrugged. “Same place every hero puts their symbol.”

  “Your chest?”

  “Yeah.”

  Bernice leaned forward. Again, she buried her face in her hands. She sounded muffled as she spoke. “I know you probably want that real bad, but it’s not going to work.”

  “Why not?”

  Bernice peeked over her fingers. “When’s the last time you wore a t-shirt with words on it?”

  Kristen narrowed her eyes. Her head turned slightly as she tried to discern what Bernice was driving at. “I do
n’t know. I don’t buy shirts with words on them.”

  “Can I be blunt with you?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Your boobs are way too big for that.”

  “Oh.”

  “Where else on your costume can we put it?”

  Kristen looked askance. She felt hollow suddenly. Things seemed like they’d been coming together: she was coming to terms with her powers, her position, and her capabilities. She’d saved people. She’d found another person like her. She’d finally had her unmasking moment with Bernice, as shallow as it might have been. She’d picked a name. She’d picked a symbol. Every superhero with a symbol wore it proudly on their chest. She couldn’t. She remembered why she stopped buying shirts with words or designs on them; without fail, they’d be warped to uselessness. She looked back to Bernice. Her voice lost volume. “If we make a real one, it would be tailored to me, right? So we could make it work.”

  Bernice took her hands from her face. She matched Kristen’s volume, soft and comforting. “Honey, we could try, but think about it. If it covers your whole chest, half of it would be looking at the ground. Only way it’d work is if we put you in a puffy coat. Or a vest. If you’re cool with that, then we can do it, but—”

  “No.” Kristen shook her head. She couldn’t explain why, but she hated the thought of that even more. Her chest could be a nuisance, but it was still her.

  “I want to be covered up,” Kristen said, “but still me. I want to look like me. Just not with everything hanging out. Does that make sense?”

  Bernice nodded. Kristen understood the silence; Bernice was letting her work through it.

  “This sounds silly even to me, but what about my stomach?”

  “Can I be blunt again?”

  “Sure.”

  “Lady Superior and the symbol are two strikes. You want them, so I’ll let you have them. But if you’re a nun with the Trinity on your stomach, you’re pushing it. It’s a little Virgin Mary.”