The Good Fight

by Scott Bachmann

  The bouncer is a Super standing about six feet tall and almost that wide with all the freaking muscles he has. His arms cross over his chest like they were designed that way—folded and overbearing and intimidating. His massive size isn’t the only indicator that he’s a Super; his average power level has been trained to radiate as strongly as he can manage. Which, you know, is about as powerful as I was at three. Maintaining my power seems so easy now, but it’s a skill that’s only taught in Hero training. All Supers are superior to humans in strength, agility and power, but the average Super is no threat because they have no idea how to harness their internal power and use it as a weapon. For good or evil. Still, I applaud him on his amateur efforts of strengthening his power level. I can totally feel the vibrations of it from five feet away. I bet it’s frightening to humans.

  He smiles and steps aside when I approach. “Hero Crimson, so great to see you,” he says.

  I smile back. Say thanks.

  What else am I supposed to say?

  The Fleet Room is a chaotic mash up of brightly lit arcade games, waitresses in neon barely-there uniforms, and the top 40 dance tracks on repeat at a volume that would make even the hearing-impaired cover their ears. Ares Fleet finds me a fraction of a second after I walk in the door. How unsurprising.

  He wears dark slim-fit jeans and a black shirt under a leather jacket. Quite the teen vampire heartthrob look he’s got going on here. “Hero Crimson.” He says it like I’ve just gotten caught doing something naughty. His arm slides around my back, hand running dangerously close to my ass. He places a welcoming kiss on my cheek. “I’m psyched that you were able to join me tonight.”

  Maci was right. I can practically feel the aura of slime ball that floats in a five foot radius around him, and now me by default. Ugh, I’ve got his slime on me. I suck back my revulsion and lean into his shoulder as he guides me around the crowd and up a flight of stairs to a VIP-only balcony.

  “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you, Mr. Fleet.” My words are honey and my smile is so convincing I almost believe it myself.

  “Call me Ares,” he says with a southern-style rich boy drawl. “Mr. Fleet is my father.” A hint of disdain flickers across his features as he leans back against the balcony railing, exposing more of his black shirt which I can now see is snugly fit around a sculpted six pack. “Mr. Fleet is also my eldest brother . . .and my other brother. I am simply Ares.”

  “Well at least you’re still young,” I say a little sarcastically before I remember I’m supposed to be flirting as well as secretly scoping out the place. I lean forward and run my finger along the collar of his jacket. “I prefer my men young.”

  Ares doesn’t shrink back like Miles did when I turn up the heat a little bit. Instead, there’s a fire in his eyes that tells me he likes what he sees. Now I’m getting somewhere. “So tell me about yourself,” I say over the thumping of an overtly sexual R&B song. “And why would you want to invite me to this shindig? I’m no one special.”

  “Nah, are you kidding? Hero Crimson? The pleasure is all mine.” He peels his vision away from my breasts long enough to glance around the room. “It’s opening night and I’m the only Fleet who could bother to show up. I’m the one who doesn’t get a dime of this fortune and yet I managed to get the lovely, and extra beautiful I might add, Hero Crimson to join me. This will probably be the most profitable location now.”

  “Aww, you’re too sweet,” I say, throwing a hand over my heart for emphasis. “What do you mean about not getting any of the fortune? Isn’t it a family business? I bet this place earns way more than my shitty Hero salary.”

  Hero salaries aren’t shitty. I’m just planting a seed.

  He shrugs. “I have a trust fund but that’s about it. Dad loves my big brothers more than me. They’re all owners of the business and I’m just the kid that gets in the way, as far as they’re concerned.” He grabs a drink off a tray from a passing waitress and takes a sip. “It sucks being the baby when your brothers are a hundred years older than you.”

  “Maybe they’ll let you in when you get older,” I suggest. I glance around the room. This probably won’t go anywhere. Sure Ares is a typical cocky teenage guy, but he hasn’t displayed any signs of villainous activity yet.

  “I don’t need to be older,” he says. The tone of his voice makes the hairs on the back of my neck perk up. My senses pick up on more than just the sparkle in his eyes. His fingers trail up my arm. “I’m making plenty of money now. Without them.”

  “Are you hiring?” I say with a wink. “I’m afraid my handbag collection has swallowed up my paycheck lately.”

  He lets out a little snort. “You’re a Hero. I don’t think you’d be interested in my methods.” He watches me over the rim of his glass. He’s testing his limits.

  Ah, man, this is so easy.

  “Fiiiiine,” I whine. “Treat me just like everyone else and don’t tell me cool things because you’re scared of the badge. Ugh. Sometimes I’m not even sure why I became a Hero. I wanted to go on adventures….” Ares watches me intently as I tug a strand of my hair and twist it around my finger, looking as dejected as possible. “But instead of adventures all I get are people being scared of me, thinking I’d turn them in.”

  “Well isn’t that your job?” His eyes rake me up and down. His power level is next to nothing, meaning he’s not even suspicious of me anymore.

  I shrug. “Sorry Ares but I should probably get going. All this stupid money talk has me realizing how broke I am after my last shopping spree. I think I just want to go home.”

  I take a step forward and he grabs my arm. “Wait. I’ll show you.”

  “Really?” I say with an innocent smile.

  He leans forward and, oh my god I can’t believe he does this, but he bops me on the nose with his finger. “Of course. A pretty girl like you should be able to shop as much as you want.”

  Oh man I love it when a guy treats me like a shallow dumbass.

  It means they’ve totally let their guard down.

  Not even five minutes later, Ares and I are behind a private door to what looks like a closet-sized server room. The glow of LED lights bounces off our faces. Ares types a string of nonsense into the main computer. I sigh. “I don’t know how any of this will help me. I don’t know shit about computers.”

  He laughs. “It’s all good. I got you babe.”

  I suppress a shudder. I can’t stand being called babe by someone I’m not dating. Ares opens a drawer and takes out a stack of generic gift cards. He turns on his heel and wraps an arm around my shoulders. His breath smells like liquor. “Okay babe, I’m about to let you in on a little secret. Now promise me you won’t go arresting me or anything.”

  I roll my eyes and press tightly against his chest, letting him feel the curves of my body as I trace my finger down his abs. “I promise I want to make out with you after this,” I whisper. He swallows. “That’s . . .yeah . . .yeah okay let’s get this done so we can get the hell out of here.”

  I lick my lips. “Please.”

  He turns back to the computer and proceeds to explain his plan to me. When he’s not watching, I set my MOD to record his confession and then I stand patiently with my hands clasped together behind my back and watch him reveal what will be his undoing. “So basically I’ve set this to funnel extra money to the server. It doubles the ATM fees, takes a quarter from each transaction at the bar, stuff like that. When it builds up I unload it on these gift cards.” He taps one on the table and then slides it through a card reader to load it up with a thousand dollars. He hands the card to me. “We stole that in only five minutes. Imagine how much money we’ll have if we stay in here all night?”

  I take the card and slide it into my bra.

  Maci will be so proud of me.

  “Hey, Ares?” I blink my eyes up at him and watch as he practically turns into a pile of hormone-crazed goo.

  “Yeah, baby?”

  I extend my palm until it
touches his chest and let out a burst of power that drops him to the ground. My knee digs into his ribcage as I drop on top of him, yank his hands behind his back and slide a pair of power-blocking cuffs over his wrists.

  “I am Hero Crimson. And you’re under arrest.”

  Back to Table of Contents

  Thawed

  by Jim Zoetewey

  Jim Zoetewey grew up in Holland, Michigan, near where L. Frank Baum wrote some of the books in the Oz series. Contrary to what you may have heard, Jim has never met a munchkin or been attacked by flying monkeys.

  Jim is best known for the web serial, The Legion of Nothing which updates twice weekly at his website http://legionofnothing.com. The first year of the serial has been adapted into a novel, and Jim hopes to adapt two more by the end of this year.

  This story, “Thawed” is set roughly a year before the beginning of the serial. The Legionverse includes a variety of ways to receive powers—mutation, genetic engineering, and scientific experimentation. Not only that, but the world was invaded by Faerie in the 1960’s, and there are a few lingering effects.

  * * *

  Nicole stood on the front steps of the high school. Her backpack lay on the ground next to her duffel bag, which was currently filled with her soccer uniform, and a towel.

  It was a warm day. It could have been summer. The grass had turned green. The trees had leaves, or at least buds. Nicole was barely noticing any of it. She was on the phone.

  “My boyfriend? Mr. Noshow, you mean? He’s still not here, and soccer ended twenty minutes ago.”

  Over the phone, Melissa said, “Well, he might have a good reason.”

  Nicole shrugged. “If he does, he has a good reason an awful lot. I don’t think he’s ever been on time.”

  Melissa laughed, and then, more seriously asked, “So is this it? The end?”

  Nicole thought about it. “I don’t know. It depends what he says, but as late as he is now? I’m going to call him. If he doesn’t answer, that’s it.”

  They said goodbye. As they did, she noticed a black dog in the shade of a tree across the street. She stared at it. The dog was huge. God, she thought, it’s the size of a small pony.

  And there was no question about it, it was looking at her. She wondered if she should run. Then she blinked, and when she looked again, it was just a normal dog. A Labrador Retriever maybe.

  She laughed, deciding not to tell Melissa about that. Melissa would joke about it for weeks.

  Then she started looking through her phone again.

  She found his number as he pulled into the drive in front of her school. The car splashed in the puddles left over from the afternoon’s rain.

  Adam drove a sports car, not one of the well known ones, but a nicer car that she would have expected. He didn’t have a job, and his family wasn’t wealthy from what she’d seen.

  She couldn’t think of the model, something that struck her as odd because she ought to have known the model, or recognized that she didn’t. She’d tried to ask her brothers what it was, but she couldn’t remember what it looked like when it wasn’t in front of her—not even the color.

  He pulled up the school’s driveway, and opened his door, waving her over. “Hey Nicole, I was thinking instead of coffee, we’d take a drive. I’ve got something I want to tell you.”

  He grinned at her. He looked better than the last time she’d seen him. It was nice to see him make an effort. Between the green, button down shirt, blue jeans, and short haircut, it was step better than the muddy t-shirt, he’d shown up in for their last date. She wasn’t even sure how he’d found the mud. It hadn’t rained in a week.

  Last time she’d seen him, she’d given him an ultimatum, “Explain why you didn’t show up last Friday, and make me believe it, or we’re done.”

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said last time we talked, and you were right. I should have told you what I was doing. I’ll tell you now, but . . . inside the car. It’s not something I want to say where everyone can hear.”

  She thought about it, and decided almost in the same instant. She’d give him the chance. At least he was trying to explain now.

  “Okay,” she said, “let’s talk.”

  “Great,” he said, and sat back down in the car, unlocking the door.

  As she opened the door, and stepped inside, she wondered what she was letting herself in for. Family drama? Medical problems? Was he on drugs?

  She put her seatbelt on, and looked over at him. Drugs? Who was she kidding? He was almost boring—a complete straight arrow—except that he became a little intense at times.

  He started the car. “There’s a park down the street. We could stop there and talk. Maybe take a walk afterward? Anyway, what we’re talking about has to stay in the car.”

  That brought her back to wondering about drugs. Well, she thought, it didn’t have to be that big a secret. It might just be embarrassing.

  “Nicole?” He sounded a little worried.

  “Don’t worry about it. I won’t say anything.”

  “Good,” he said, and they drove to the park.

  It wasn’t a big park. It had a small parking lot on one end, kids’ playground equipment, and a baseball diamond on the other end.

  Three kids, two boys and a girl ran around, sometimes climbing on the wooden structure in the middle of the lot, sometimes swinging on the swings. A woman in blue jeans and a light, green jacket sat on a park bench and read something on her cell phone.

  Spring in Chicago, Nicole thought.

  Adam grinned at her as he took off his seat belt. “You don’t know how much of a relief this is. You’re never supposed to do this. I’ve been told not to every time I even thought about it, but screw them. This is it. I’m a superhero. I’m Dark Cloak.”

  She couldn’t help it. She giggled, then stifled the giggled, and then she blushed.

  It seemed so unlikely. Okay, it fit. She had to admit that. It fit every superhero stereotype she’d ever heard of—the disappearances, being late, and all of it.

  It wasn’t like she lived under a rock. She’d seen comic books, not to mention the real supers on cable—on the SuperTV channel and all the TV shows.

  Maybe, she thought, it wasn’t that he’d claimed to be one, but who he’d claimed to be. Dark Cloak was one of those dark avenger of the night types, practically a ninja. He’d taken down leaders in the Outfit, Chicago’s mob, on his own.

  Adam was a little short, and kind of cute, but not the kind of guy she expected to come out of the dark like an avenging angel, or however the cliches put it.

  He stiffened, not moving.

  He probably hadn’t expected that response.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was surprised. You don’t seem anything like him.”

  Deciding that might have sounded insulting, she decided to distract him. What would he want to talk about? She had a terrifying moment of not being able to think of anything, and then blurted out, “What can you do?”

  From his expression, he’d been waiting to answer this one for years. “I don’t ever talk about that on TV, but at this point, I might as well . . .

  “I obscure things. People can still see them, but they don’t pay attention to them. That means I can hide myself, but I can also make things disappear. Like if I was being chased, I could obscure the first or second step of a stairway, and the next thing anybody knows they’ll be falling.”

  She thought about some of the stairways she’d been on. “You could kill somebody.”

  “Well, yeah,” he said, slowly, “but if somebody’s chasing me, they’re part of the mob, or a supervillain. Those guys don’t die on stairways. I’m lucky to make it out ahead of them. Besides if they did die, I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. They’re trying to kill me. That’s self-defense.”

  She wasn’t sure what she thought about him talking that casually about killing. She agreed he had a right to defend himself, but still they were people, and sometimes you might be wrong
about whether they were trying to kill you.

  He paused as if waiting for her to respond. When she didn’t, he said, “I’ve never done it. Even when I brought Malone and his guys down, all I needed to do was sneak in and bug them. I installed some keyloggers on their computers too. Pretty soon I knew all their passwords to everything. It was enough to put them all away. Did you see me on TV? I got on the Tonight Show, Letterman, and all that. I did a few shows on SuperTV too, but you’re not a capewatcher, right?”

  There, at least, she was on firmer ground.

  “No,” she said. “I never watch that stuff.”

  He leaned forward in his seat, smiling at her. “I completely understand. It’s kind of like following any other celebrity, but with more violence. It’s pretty fun being a cape though—at least after the hard parts are over. Running for your life’s not fun, but once the police have the guy in custody, it can be fun to talk to the press.

  “Plus, everybody likes you and acts like you’re a big deal. You get limos and endorsements, and stuff. I’ve got a business manager that handles licensing my image, and it’s pretty crazy. I’ve put away enough for college just in the last two years. Of course, I can’t spend much of it in real life or people would wonder where I got the cash, but I’m working on that. Anyway, I can spend a little without drawing attention. That’s how I bought my car.”

  She thought about how nervous her parents got when they talked about paying for college. Forcing a small smile, she said, “I can do without the attention, but the money would be nice.”

  He nodded. “I get that. Sometimes, the attention is a bit much. I get sick of autographs the most, and sometimes I’m trying to catch somebody, and out of nowhere a fan shows up and wants to chat. Crazy, right?”

  Then he leaned back in his seat. “So, are we good? I’m not trying to be late. Sometimes things come up. Like that time I didn’t show up, someone was getting mugged, and I stopped it, but an Outfit hitman saw me, and it only got crazier after that.”

  She reached out and squeezed his hand. “We’re good. I can’t fault you for stopping a mugger. I definitely can’t fault you for trying to escape a hitman. Just don’t lie about it next time, and I won’t get angry.”