Good luck replicating this hot mess, Revlon. You’re welcome to try though.
My best friend Maci got her Hero status a few months ago and she’s been trying to convince me to have my suit altered with a new chest plate. I know she means well, but hiding this cleavage won’t do me any favors. Half the villains I take down end up losing because they couldn’t keep their damn eyes up where they belong. I look down for a moment and smile.
What can I say? Women want to look like me and men want to do me.
It sounds self-absorbed, I know. But I use my powers for good. I didn’t get into the Hero Brigade for nothing.
Case in point.
“Hey Crimson.” My admirer gives an unsure little wave from across the Atrium as he does this walking jog thing in an attempt to close the space between us as quickly as possible without seeming desperate. Fail. Desperation just hangs in the air above his head, growing wider and stinkier as the time passes.
I pull off my thin black eye mask and shove it into a hidden pocket on my sleeve. I had to keep my identity a secret for the humans from Revlon. Now that I’m in the Atrium at Central, a place in King City that is forbidden to humans, I don’t need it. Plus my face is way hotter uncovered.
“Miles,” I say with a girly inflection in my voice that takes my intimidation down a few notches. “Sorry I’m late. Do I need to go home and change into regular clothes, or..?”
“No, you’re perfect. I mean, you’re fine. Um, yeah we can just go like this because our reservation is in a few minutes.”
I flash my sweetest smile and hook my arm around his, allowing him to lead us to the King City Accelerated Passageway to Operations Worldwide. I never planned on changing clothes and I certainly wasn’t late on accident. I need to be dressed in Hero attire for this date tonight. As a Hero, I’m on call all the time. You never know when someone might need a heaping dish of justice and I’m always happy to deliver it.
Miles and I don’t look like a couple on a first date. I’m a Hero and he wears black slacks that are a little tight in the ass and a white pearl snap shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I’m loving the way the shirt pulls over his well-defined muscles though. If he wasn’t a suspect I might think about dating him for real.
The screen on my wrist MOD pulses a blue light when I slide closer to him in the tiny KAPOW pod. It picked up on his energy and if I were to activate the MOD, it’d tell me all I need to know about him. I ignore the screen and place my wrist in my lap, MOD side down. How rude would that be to check out all of the info Central knows about this man while I’m sitting right next to him? He probably doesn’t even know that Heroes have access to that stuff.
Besides, I remember it all because I’ve already read it in private.
Miles Mason: A Super aged twenty-two. Son of a stay-at-home-mom and an architect who helped reconstruct much of the Atrium after a villain attack a decade ago. Only child. Dropped out of Hero training after only six months and opened his own gym when he finished high school.
Now I guess he spends all of his time working out. I don’t know what he learned in those first six months of Hero training as a child or if he plans on doing anything with that knowledge.
But I’m going to find out.
The conversation is a little awkward as we ride the KAPOW to the restaurant Miles chose. It’s a fancy frou frou place where they cook the food in front of you and although humans run the establishment, they only serve Supers. They’re the kind of whack-a-do humans who fetishize the Super race and write fan fiction about popular Heroes that all have happy endings that find some way to give humans power, too. All humans respect Supers and appreciate the work we do to keep the community safe and to protect from natural disasters, but some of them take it too far.
Unlike their fictional heroes who obtain power by radioactive spiders or a magic wish-granting genie, our powers aren’t magic or fantasy. It’s in our DNA. We may look like humans on the outside but we have a second set of veins under our flesh that holds our power.
It was his restaurant choice that made me know I’d chosen the correct suspect off the list. Though many Supers live segregated from humans for their own protection, I don’t exactly like the idea of humans outcasting their own race.
We exit the KAPOW a few minutes later and I slip on my eye mask. We’re somewhere in South America. The restaurant overlooks a cliff and the beautiful blue water that rivals CIK Island. The fresh stir-fry is the best I’ve ever eaten and if I wasn’t already so judgmental about this place and its human owners, I might actually bring Maci and come back for dinner.
“So you work at a gym?” I ask in my sweet voice. The last time I let my normally throaty voice go all sugary sweet was when I had to convince a five year old to climb into my arms so I could jump us out of a four story window in her burning apartment complex.
“I’m the owner. And I work there too, obviously.” He gives me a sheepish grin and then takes his cell phone out of his pocket. I slide to the far right of my barstool, grab his arm and make some comment about his watch but it’s all an act so I can sneak a look at his phone. If he’s going to alert an accomplice or do anything less than legal, I’d like to know about it.
But to my disappointment, he doesn’t do anything with it except switch the volume off and shove it back in his pocket.
So he’s the kind of guy who ignores his phone while on a date? Blah.
Back on the center of my barstool, I continue talking about his stupid gym, eat my food and try to think of some more ideas to bait him.
Miles sucks down the last few drops of his sweet tea and glances longingly at the bar. I’ve told him he can order a drink if he wants but he’s refusing because I’m under age. Yes, even the Supers have age limits on alcohol. I could capture villains and save the world at sixteen, but ordering a glass of wine? Not until I’m twenty one.
“If you ever get tired of training in SLAM, you could always stop by my gym. It’s on the south wing of Central, not too far from there actually.”
SLAM is the Heroes only training facility. I’m there at least two hours a day. Of course, Miles knows all of this because he likes to hang out in the corridor at the very convenient times of day that I happen to be there. That’s how we officially met three days ago. I had seen him hanging around lately, handing out flyers for his gym to any Supers who passed by SLAM, usually teenagers who daydreamed of being a Hero but not enough to make them actually sign up for Hero training. He had looked so familiar and it took me an entire three hour boxing session to finally remember where I had seen his gorgeous mug from.
Then of course, the moment I knew who he was, I flirted up a storm and left a trail of hints until he got the balls to ask me on a date.
And here we are.
Miles stabs his fork into a beef fajita. “No cover fee for you, ma’am.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet of you.” I brush my fingers across his arm again, stopping when chills prickle across his skin. “I haven’t trained outside of SLAM. Training with you could be fun,” I say with a sultry wink.
He clears his throat. “Yeah, um, maybe you could teach me some Hero moves.”
I rub my neck and then let my index finger trail down the shiny maroon fabric of my neckline, stopping right where it makes a V at my cleavage. “Maybe you could teach me something.”
Miles swallows. A steady hum of power radiates from his body. It’s almost cute how little power the regular Supers have compared to Heroes. It definitely is cute how much he sucks at hiding it. I lean forward on my barstool, bringing my elbows together on the table, squishing my boobs up for his entertainment. This move is so blatantly obvious, I’m almost embarrassed that I’m being so uncreative.
I smile up at him.
He smiles back.
What the ef?
I can’t believe he just did that! I brought out the big guns, the luscious double D bazongas that I’m famous for and he just sat there and smiled back at me? While looking me in the eyes?
Shit. I’m getting nowhere. I straighten up and gather up all of that dignity I left on the table. “So why did you choose this restaurant?”
He gives me a sheepish grin. “I asked my MOD for recommendations of good date restaurants.”
I take a long sip of sweet tea. “So you haven’t been here before?”
He shakes his head. “It’s nice though. I love the view.”
I focus on his pupils. “Do you know anything about the owners?”
He shrugs. “No, do you?”
Dammit. He’s telling the truth. The only clue I’ve had to go on was the idea that maybe he hates humans and eats at establishments that have similar views. He doesn’t give a shit about my sex appeal and he hasn’t once suggested that I join him in a secret evil plan. Besides a follow up visit to his gym where I can hack into his computer, I don’t think there’s any reason to keep investigating Miles.
I scarf down the rest of my food and thank him when he foots the bill.
The ache of disappointment fills my veins as I fake a smile and kiss him goodbye. The food was pretty good, but the date was pointless.
* * *
Mom and Blue argue over the last slice of pizza. When I walk in the room they start in on me. “Honey, tell your brother to respect his elders and give me the last slice,” Mom says. She’s dressed in a tight-fitting skirt and a silk button up blouse so that means she’s been at work all day. It’s nice to see her finally getting back to work after her breakdown last summer.
“Crimson, tell Mom that I’m a growing Super in Hero training and I need all the energy I can get,” my brother retorts. With his six foot frame, Blue hovers over the both of us but he’s so freaking skinny he’s not the least bit intimidating.
I roll my eyes. I just came in here for a glass of water, not to get in the middle of their food war. “Blue’s right,” I say, stepping between them and the pizza box. “Heroes need lots of energy and since I’m the only Hero in this room…” I grab the last slice, fold it in half and take a bite. “It’s mine.”
The collective groan of my beloved family members puts a smile on my face.
“Why are you even here?” Mom asks. “We had all that construction work done and yet you’re still here!” She gives me a playful shove as she takes the empty pizza box to the trash. Our homes are built into the Grand Canyon and with the exception of one glass wall that overlooks the canyon, everything else is underground, covered in rock. I love my family, probably more than a nineteen year old should, but I’m a freaking Hero. I needed my own place.
For my birthday last year, my parents and I had an extension built onto my room, expanding it further into the canyon so that I had my own apartment, complete with my own front door entrance from the KAPOW that was just around the corner from my parent’s place. So Mom’s question of why I came home into their house and not mine was pretty valid.
“I just got back from a date who refused to drop me off at the KAPOW. He wanted to be all romantic and shit and walk me to my door,” I say with an eye roll. Mom lifts an eyebrow in curiosity. I toss up my hands in defense. “Well I didn’t want him knowing where I lived! He liked me way too much. He’s probably clingy and I can’t have that.”
“So you let him know where I lived instead?” Blue says with an epic eye roll. “As if I need more guys trying to be my friend just to get to you.”
Mom gives both of us a look. “Was this a real date or one of those fake dates?”
My MOD lights up and I skim the message before giving her an answer. “It’s not a fake date. It’s a Hero thing. It’s all part of the job.”
“These aren’t assigned Hero missions, Crimson.” Mom makes that little tisk tisk of disappointment. “You do this for fun. Frankly, I think it’s just cruel to those poor guys.”
My MOD lights up again. I stick out my tongue. “It isn’t cruel! If they have nothing to hide, they have nothing to worry about. Besides, one of these days I’ll be right. I’ll catch someone before they go villain.”
Mom’s eyes narrow. “And how many hearts will you break in the process?”
I can’t help but smile as I read the message I just received from Maci. “Looks like I’m about to add one to that list. Don’t wait up for me.”
* * *
Maci Might is the newest Hero to join our ranks. Technically she’s on a probation period, but we don’t talk about that. Not if we want to keep her happy. She’s also my best friend and probably the only girl on the planet who can put up with me.
She meets me in the corridor between our houses. “Did you run here?” I ask curiously, taking in the sight of her in full Hero suit, leaning against the wall almost as if she were tired.
Heroes don’t get tired. At least, not the skilled ones.
“Yeah,” she says with a slight pant in her voice as she bursts into a grin. “From the Empire State Building. Just beat my record. Two and a half minutes.”
“Nice. I love your new hair. Reminds me of espresso.”
She rolls her eyes and shrugs her hair behind her shoulders. Maci was born with light hair like the rest of the Heroes but right about the time she was old enough to take her Hero exam, her hair started darkening. Now it’s a deep chocolate brown. And it’s kind of delicious-looking.
“Hair dye just doesn’t work anymore,” she says with a sigh and a glance at her MOD screen. I swear I’m not trying to snoop, but her hunky nerdy boyfriend just sent her a text. “I wish they’d make Super quality dye because the human stuff just washes out after a few days.”
“Why are you dying your hair? Just embrace the dark.”
She frowns and types out a quick reply to her boy toy on her MOD screen. “I don’t mind my hair so much. It’s everyone else who seems to be bothered by it.”
I put my hand on my hip. “You’re not a villain. And I will be happy to kick the ass of anyone who thinks your damn hair color has anything to do with your credibility.”
“Thanks, Crimson.” Her smile is genuine but annoyance shines through as well. I know she hates the topic of her dark hair, her probationary Hero status and the rumors that she has villain DNA coursing through her veins. But I have faith in her and that’s all that matters.
I’m serious about kicking ass if anyone wants to cross her.
“So what’s the deal with this guy?” I ask. I’m practically salivating at the idea of taking down a villain tonight. Too many of my dates have been dead ends lately.
She holds up a finger and gives me what I’m guessing is supposed to be a serious look. Like she means business. “I’m only doing this because I think this guy might actually be up to something bad. But Crimson, listen…” Her hands twist together. “You’ve been working too hard lately. You have to take a break soon.”
“Blah.” I stick out my tongue. “I am not working too hard. I’m a friggen Hero.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m just worried about you.”
“Duly noted. Now what’s the deal with this guy?”
Maci pulls up a photo on her MOD. The guy in question is younger, probably around eighteen. He’s tall though, tan and filled out. His hair is all buzzed off, but surprisingly, it looks good on him. He’s definitely past all the awkwardness of puberty.
She pulls back her MOD and deletes the image quickly, making a gagging sound as if having his photo on her MOD any longer would make her literally puke. “His name is Ares Fleet and he has slime ball written all over him.”
“Fleet as in The Fleet Room?” I ask. She nods. “The very same. Ares is the youngest son of Adrian Fleet. I just ran into him in New York. He was desperate for a date to the opening of their newest Fleet Room tonight. Even after I told him I happily had a boyfriend he wouldn’t let it go. He wanted a Hero there.”
“So you volunteered me.” I lace my fingers together and flex them in front of my chest. Maci smiles. “I’m almost offended at how excited he was when I said the famous Crimson Carlow would be happy to join him. He dropped his pursuits on me
instantly.” She takes my wrist in her hand and types in the address of the newest Fleet Room into my MOD. “He’ll be waiting for you.”
I lean in and kiss her on the cheek. “Thanks, you’re the best.”
She points her finger at me like she has some kind of authority. “When you get back we’re going to have fun girl time. Relaxing time!”
“Yeah yeah,” I call out over my shoulder as I summon a KAPOW pod. “We can relax when we’re dead.”
* * *
The Fleet Room is a Super-owned chain of entertainment centers that are basically just a Chuck-E-Cheese for adults. They have arcade games, pool, bowling, tons and tons of bartenders and on top of all of that—they’re human friendly. Every Fleet Room guarantees to have Heroes visit once a month. I’ve received an invitation a dozen times but have always declined. I like being famous for my Hero achievements, not for my drunken schmoozing with the humans.
But I’ll make an exception tonight.
The new Fleet Room is a spectacle even from far away. The metal building is a three story shining beacon with massive neon green lettering that spell out the establishment’s title while casting a ghoulishly green glow on everything. Humans step out of my way as if by magic as I walk down the streets of Manhattan. I smile for the occasional photo and pretend to be understanding as teenage humans shake nervously while gathering the courage to say hello. It’s cute how excited they get when they meet a Hero for the first time. The ones that annoy me are the humans who try to sneak a photo of me with their smart phone because they’re too chicken shit to just come up and ask me for a photo. I mean, who does that?
Obviously my Super senses have me keenly aware of my surroundings at all times. Did they think I wouldn’t notice a camera pointed directly at me while their head turns another direction?
My face mask fits snugly over my brows and down around to the top of my cheekbones but I reach up and check it anyway. A Hero has never revealed their identity to a human before, and I sure as hell won’t be the first one.
The Good Fight Page 18