She shook her head, the grey hairs flying in the dim light. Her wiry hands tightened on the worn leather straps.
I turned to the two punks. “Well, then—there you go.” I spread my hands. “Guess that’s that. Sorry. Might want to run on home and get a fruit cup from your mother.”
Machete boy lunged forward and swung the blade in a wide arc. I snapped my hips back, barely evading the sharp edge threatening to slice my exposed midsection.
“No.” I shot the kid with a medium charge from my right hand, sending an electrical jolt into his body. He dropped to the ground face-first, writhing in a foul-smelling puddle of something that wasn’t water. The blade bounced free, skittering to one side.
A burning feeling ripped across my left arm, just below the shoulder. I looked over to see the kid, butterfly knife in hand, jumping away from me. The shocked gasp from the woman behind me pointed out the obvious.
The punk’s hood fell back, revealing a pimply face dotted with red blotches. Panicky wide eyes darted around the alley, first to me and then to his fallen comrade. He held the knife in front of him as if it were a cross and I a vampire, willing me away.
I examined the small cut as it dribbled blood. My pulse pounded in my ears as I watched the scarlet drops trickling over my bare skin. It was just so…alien. There was no pain, nothing other than the initial burning.
The senior screamed again as the kid moved in, taking advantage of my momentary distraction. I glared at the punk, a series of curses on the tip of my tongue. My other hand came up to fire, the shock at actually being injured slowing me down. The speed was off, a sluggish copy of my usual reaction time.
The mugger’s hand flew towards me again, the blade dripping with my own blood. I might match his attack, but I sure wasn’t going to beat him to the punch.
An arm flew out of the shadows, crashing down hard on the kid’s outstretched arm. He dropped the knife with a yelp and fell to his knees.
The owner of the disembodied arm moved into the dim light. Hunter. He glared at the mugger on the ground, then over at me.
I took a step backwards, seeing his eyes. Dark, clouded and angry. So angry. I’d never seen him like this, not even when bent over May’s body on what had to be one of the worst days of his life.
“Get out,” he snarled at the pup. “Get out and take him with you before I kill you both.”
The kid scrambled for his buddy, dragging the confused friend out of the puddle and to his feet. The two of them sprinted down another alley, disappearing from sight. The machete remained behind, glittering in the dim light.
“Thank you,” the woman behind me whispered. “Thank you both.” She fled from us, heading onto the street to relative safety.
I barely had a chance to catch my breath before Hunter slammed me against the wall, his left hand on my chest. I pressed my palms down at my sides against the cold brick, releasing what little charge I had left. The numbness disappeared, replaced with a hot throbbing that had nothing to do with the man holding me captive.
“What the fuck was that?” He pointed at the cut on my arm. “What’s the first rule?”
My mind was blank. I stared at him, confused.
“What’s the first rule?” Hunter yelled in my face, taking me back to my first days as a super. “What’s the first rule?”
I flashed back to one of my first fights with Metal Mike, back when I was still learning what it meant to be a super.
It hadn’t been a fair fight from the start, Lazy Susan and Diamond Jim being technically above us in rank, but the Agency had wanted to get me some battle time out of the simulators and chastise the older, more experienced supers for not hitting their marks during a recent battle with Black and Tan.
When Jim had cut and run away from the town square, I’d followed him, too close on his heels to allow the older super to retreat and escape without dealing with me. The cameras followed, Jim’s Guardian bellowing in our ears and changing up the game on the fly. Mike was busy with Susan and couldn’t do much else than growl for me to wait for him to catch up.
Jim headed down an alley towards his escape route via a sewer grate and back to the Agency base for debriefing. I barreled down behind him, huffing and puffing.
His Guardian shouted, almost deafening me over the link.
Jim spun around and unleashed his trademark throwing-star attack, the small glass flechettes flying towards me. It wasn’t a lethal attack, and my response would be to fly over the missile attack and shoot Jim with a light charge, enough to look sparkly and allow him to stagger away. We’d done this act a hundred times in the simulators, a dozen times in battles where the villain needed a showy retreat and I got to fly. People loved to see supers fly.
I froze, seeing the tiny projectiles coming towards me. All I had to do was fly and I’d forgotten how, my mind a complete blank.
I didn’t have a force field to throw up, and the alley was too narrow to dodge any of the darts. At best he’d rip my clothing to shreds, the tiny projectiles digging into my flesh and providing the Agency doctors with some work. The missiles were weighted to slow their impact, but if I took one in the face, there’d be hell to pay.
Jim’s eyes went wide as he stared at me, realizing the scenario had just gone to hell in a handbasket. Instead of escaping up into the air, I crouched down in fear, throwing my arms in front of my face and hoping for the best.
A metal plinking replaced the anticipated impact.
I glanced up to see Mike standing in front of me, his metal suit protecting both of us. He turned his head once to glare at me before charging towards Jim, who looked grateful for the Guardian’s attack. One faked punch from Mike and he was down.
I ran up to the defeated villain, wanting to say something, anything. Maybe even apologize for screwing up the routine.
Diamond Jim eyed Mike, then me, and then bolted. It was his usual exit. He slithered down into the underworld and back to his lair, in this case Agency barracks in Buffalo, New York.
“You fight alone, you die alone,” Mike roared as he hovered in the air a few feet away. I shook the fuzziness out of my head, staggering to my feet.
Mike picked me up in his arms and shot into the air. A long beep sounded over the link, signaling we were no longer on camera, our faux battle officially ended. We didn’t have that long a flight to our apartment in Niagara Falls, but it was long enough for the verbal thrashing I knew was coming.
“How’s your head?” he mumbled over the link.
“Fine. How’s yours?” I shot back, not sure where I stood with him at the moment.
The armor suit tilted a bit, just enough to make me grab at the thick metal arms. “You want me to drop you? You want to fly all the way home on your own?”
“No,” I grumbled.
“What’s the first rule?”
“Duck and cover?”
He began to roll.
“Fight alone, die alone.” I was tired, lightheaded and really didn’t want to worry about flying right now.
“And why is that the first rule?”
“Because you said so. You and every other fucking trainer,” I growled.
Mike’s laugh vibrated through the suit. “True. And you know why we say it?”
“No,” I snapped. “I’m tired, sore and wondering what the hell is going on. If the fights are all fixed, then what’s all these rules for?” My fingers tightened on the metal forearms just in case he decided to dump me.
“The reason it’s the first rule is because you’re part of a team. You and me, we’re a team. I don’t leave you alone and you don’t leave me alone chasing someone down.” The arms cradled me closer, pressing me against his chest. “Stuff happens, Jo. You need someone to watch your back, always. Whether the Guardian is onscreen or off, you’re never alone. Don’t forget that. The first rule. Fight alone, die alone. Never be alone.”
“Look at you,” Hunter snarled, pulling me back into the present. He took hold of my injured arm and studied the cu
t. “Please tell me you’re up to date on your shots.”
I yanked it away and winced as the clean slice oozed again. “Sure I am. You know the Agency doctors love to jab us with needles.”
“Jo, don’t be a smartass.” His mouth twitched into a smile. “Well, more of.”
The wound throbbed, demanding my attention. A few steps brought me to the back door of the bookstore, which was slightly ajar thanks to a wooden block shoved in at the bottom. “Should I even ask how you knew to come down?”
“Peter screamed something out of the shower. I figured I’d be better as backup than him dashing around naked with a pack of rats and roaches.”
I gave a visible shudder. “Oh, yes. Definitely. No offense to the boy, but there are some mysteries better left unseen.”
The doorknob was cool and slick in the night air. Hunter put his hand over mine, stopping me before I had a chance to pull the door open.
“You can’t go off and do things like this by yourself.” An underlying authoritative tone in his voice grated on me. “You can’t.”
“I can and I will when people need help.” I shoved backwards with my hips, dislodging his grip.
Peter stood at the top of the staircase, dripping wet, a towel around his waist. “You okay?”
“Just fine. Thanks for stepping up.” I gave him a smile and waved him back into the bathroom. He still had shampoo in his hair, for goodness’ sake.
The first-aid kit was in the kitchen and well-equipped, thanks to David. Aside from Steve, who in theory had skin as tough as steel, the rest of us were very human and very vulnerable to injury. I grabbed the small box off the wall hanger and made my way into the living room.
Steve lay on the sofa, snoring. He filled the black leather cushions from end to end, the white track pants and T-shirt a counterpoint to his tanned skin. The television remote teetered on the edge of his outstretched hand, about to drop.
I plucked it from his fingers and flicked the channel to a local news outlet. My left arm itched like crazy, switching between burning jabs and cool numbness. Neither felt good.
“Here.” Hunter snatched the kit and led me to the kitchen table in the corner beside the workout bench. In theory it was so we could have “family” meals, but more often than not it ended up a dumping ground for dishes and glasses before David gathered them in his bi-hourly housecleaning circuit.
He pushed aside a half-eaten sandwich and pointed at one of the two chairs. “Sit. That doesn’t look like it needs stitches, thank goodness.” Not that it would have stopped him. Hunter had already stitched me up once, and I knew he’d have no problem doing it again rather than take me to a hospital and deal with embarrassing questions about how a super got beat up by a pair of kids. Sure, I had won, but that wouldn’t stop the tabloids from running it as a headline and speculating on something, anything negative.
Like having my supposed sidekick save my ass.
I settled in one of the cheap folding metal chairs. My left arm went up on the table, cut side turned towards Hunter.
“I meant it when I said you can’t go around doing this. Not alone.” The alcohol swipe hurt like hell, making my muscles twitch. “Steady.”
“I’m not going to turn my back when I hear someone crying for help, Hunter.” My teeth latched onto my bottom lip as he dabbed antiseptic cream across the gouge. “That’s not what we do.”
He nodded while he dug in the kit and came up with a small bandage. “I understand your point of view, but that’s never been what we did. Remember, it was all arranged.” The thin slips of wastepaper went onto the plate beside the sandwich. “You could have gotten seriously hurt out there. If that kid had been a little braver, a little faster, or if either of them had a pistol, you’d be screwed. And not in a good, fun way.”
I sat in silence as he finished putting the bandage on. Part of me was annoyed at being so vulnerable, so helpless that a punk with a knife could take me out. Part of me snarled at realizing I’d bought into the Agency’s fantasy so wholeheartedly that I’d run into danger outside of their prearranged fights.
Another part wanted to sweep everything off the table and toss Hunter down on his back for an old-fashioned ravishing. The adrenaline rush after a fight was great for good sex. Mike never complained.
Except, of course, it wasn’t exactly the right place or time. A snoring giant on the sofa and a dripping-wet man in the shower sort of dampened the mood. Not to mention I was still a bit ticked at his attitude, even if he was right. And that whole relationship thing still had to be figured out. I stomped down the glowing embers and shoveled the remains into the When It’s The Right Time file in my mind.
“You’re right. First rule.” I conceded the point. “Next time I’ll call for help, okay?”
“Okay.” He placed a kiss on the bandaged arm. “Now get to bed. I have a feeling that we’re going to be damned busy over the next few days, and we all need our rest. Call me if you need that changed.”
“I will.” I jerked a thumb at Steve, who was still on the couch. “Might as well leave him there. I’ll let you hustle Peter out of the shower and into bed.”
Hunter wrinkled his nose. “Can you rephrase that just a bit? He’s not the one I’d like to be in bed with.” He gave me another puppy-dog look, wide, soft eyes begging for attention.
I kissed him, lingering there just long enough for one dying ember to spark up again. “Good night, Hunter.”
His answering growl followed me through the living room and past the multiple monitors still running various programs and computer things I knew nothing about. Steve grunted something unintelligible as I paused by the sofa.
We still had a big problem, and the clock was running. Not the best time to launch oneself into a new relationship.
The little annoying voice at the back of my mind asked when would be the right time. I threw it a hunk of raw meat to chew on and stay busy.
I looked down at my bare feet. They weren’t too bad after my sortie in the alley, a little dirt on the soles. Not worth another shower. I threw my track pants into the corner and scooted into bed in only my shirt and panties, mentally daring fate to toss something at me right now so I could retrieve a splinter of my pride. She takes down alien invasions but gets her ass kicked by a pair of pimply thugs. Yep, this saving the world thing was going great.
The sheets smelled of fresh flowers, David having done the laundry while we were gone and using some sort of dryer sheet. It was a familiar scent I remembered from Niagara Falls, from the cleaning service that kept our penthouse neat and clean. I rolled onto my back in the darkness and closed my eyes.
Mike smiled at me from the king-sized bed, his ebony skin shining with sweat. He scooted up the mattress, resting against the headboard. I didn’t have to see under the sheets to know he was naked. It was his preference in the bedroom. Most other places too, to be honest.
“Come here.” He patted the light yellow sheets. “I’m not going to bite you.”
I sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m losing my mind, aren’t I?”
He shrugged. “What do you think?”
I looked around the bedroom. Everything was exactly where we’d left it less than a month ago. I hadn’t asked to go back to our Niagara Falls suite, hadn’t even thought about it. There was nothing there of Jo Tanis, only Surf.
But there was Mike, my Metal Mike. He’d always be there, not cremated in the middle of a city block by his own suit’s self-destruction.
“Dillon’s playing by the rules. Don’t be mad at him.”
I fell backwards onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “My dream and I have to talk to you about Hunter? So unfair.”
Mike chuckled, the rumbling rolling up out of his chest. “Girl, you know better than that. I’m dead and he’s not. Now, I know you like a little kink now and then, but…” He raised his hands with a wide grin.
I covered my face with both hands. “Please. Not now. I’ve got a wild super on the loose.”
/>
“Yep. That sucks.” Mike put his hands behind his head. “So what are you going to do?”
“Catch him. Talk to him.” I rolled over to face him. “What would you do? What would you want me to do?”
“Me?” He pointed at his bare chest. “Sweetie, I’m a dream. A hallucination, if you want to get all fancy about it.” Mike leaned forward and reached for my hands. “The question isn’t what I want but what you want. What do you want, Jo Tanis?”
The tears flowed as he touched my hand, his long dark fingers intertwining with my own. His warmth surged through me, the quiet giant’s strength burning my skin.
“I don’t know, Mike. I don’t know what I want.” I sniffled. “I guess true love, peace and happiness for the world. Or does that sound too much like a Hallmark card?”
“It sure does…” he laughed, “…but that’ll do for now. Just don’t forget to enjoy the little things on your travels.” He looked at the digital clock on the night table. “Time for you to rest up, girl. You’ve got a lot of work ahead of you. Saving the world ain’t just a single thing, it’s a daily routine.” His voice reverberated around me and through me.
I closed my eyes and drifted away from the bedroom and Mike, from the scent of fresh flowers and Mike’s cheap cologne.
“Hey.” The familiar voice brought me to partial awareness. I stared at the ceiling, one long deep crack in the stucco reminding me of the Grand Canyon from the air.
I turned over to see a mug sitting on the side table, steam rising. A fat donut lay beside it on a napkin, the slightest bit of dark red jam oozing from the puncture in the side.
“Good morning.” Hunter’s voice came from farther away. I remained focused on the tea and donut.
“What time is it?”
“Ten in the morning, and before you say anything we all slept in and we needed it. Jessie and David showed up at the usual time and kept an eye on things until now. Good news is we have a solid lead. Jessie just confirmed it, and I’m here to haul you out like you asked.”
I shifted to one side to see him. Hunter stood there in a blue shirt and jeans, clean-shaven and looking as if he were ready to pose for a men’s magazine. Meanwhile I felt like I’d been run over by a Zamboni.
Heroes Without, Monsters Within Page 5