Super Zero

by Rhonda Stapleton

  “What is of concern,” she continued, “is that a regular person without superpowers, a person with a proven, acknowledged track record of irresponsible behavior, has been trusted to care for a priceless, one-of-a-kind relic.”

  “Hey,” I said with a flash of anger, trying to keep my voice calm. I shifted the cooler into one hand, pointing at her with the other. “I may be a regular person, but that doesn’t make me any less important. Being a superhero doesn’t give you the exclusive right to do good deeds for the world. In fact, lots of regular folks do heroic things every day.” I paused to suck in a breath. “And besides—”

  Raven Gale raised her hand, cutting me off. “Ms. Peterson has a point. We already researched her and agreed she’d accomplish the job satisfactorily.” She rubbed her chin, wrinkling her face in thought. “But if it helps everyone feel better, we can assign her a guard.”

  Rowena’s eyes darted rapidly over to Raven Gale with a panicked glance. She quickly regaining her composure then sat back down in the seat. “If no one minds, I’d like to choose who assists her.”

  Raven Gale whispered to the rest of the group for a moment, nodded. “This is acceptable.”

  Rowena bit her lower lip, thinking. She snapped her fingers. “I know the perfect person. Vigilante will prove to be the ideal guard for her.”

  Vigilante? Never heard of him, but he sounded like some kind of crazy, ‘the ends justify the means’ man. One who would steamroll over you to get what he wanted.

  Great.

  “Very well.” Storm Wave stood, and the others rose alongside him. His black cape rippled softly from his shoulders. “Jenna will watch the changing crystal, and she’ll be assisted by Vigilante.” I saw him close his eyes, touching the bridge of his nose as the lines on his forehead deepened. He was mentally beckoning someone.

  The door behind me opened. I whipped around, locking eyes with a stunning man wearing a black mask over the top half of his face.

  Tall, lean, and muscular, with eyes the color of slate, he stood before me, the very cliché of hot, moody anti-hero. His fit legs were encased in black pants, his wide shoulders in a black shirt and a long trench coat.

  The whole dark ensemble was complete with a strong jawline, his face etched in stone except for one raised eyebrow. Aimed at me, of course.

  Reluctantly I held out my free hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Jenna.”

  He shook my hand in silence and gave a small nod of greeting, his eyes sweeping over my body, sliding up to my hair.

  Oh God, my raggedy ‘do. How could I have forgotten? I’d only pulled it into a ponytail, not caring this morning how I looked. But with this silent, stern man staring at me in a most uncomfortable way, I felt a slow flush crawl up my cheeks.

  I snatched my hand away, quickly tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear. Why was he scrutinizing my outfit anyway? At least I didn’t dress like I shopped at The Superhero Goth Gap. Would a little color kill him?

  “Jenna,” Morphero said, “be constantly aware of your surroundings. Some of us have heard rumors that a couple of minor villains may know we have the crystal. Probably nothing, but just in case, be careful.”

  My heart thudded, and I nodded. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Maybe I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Suddenly I wanted to hand the beer cooler back to Mason and run for the hills.

  I forced the panic down. This was probably my only chance to do something meaningful for the League. I gathered my courage. I can do this.

  Mason came up beside me. “Vigilante has a good reputation. He’ll stick by you until the crystal is ready to be handed off. And by the way, don’t forget to pick up my other uniform from the dry cleaners. Thanks.” He glanced at his watch. “Okay, I gotta run. See you bright and early tomorrow.”

  The rest of the league dispersed, and I followed them out of the room, clutching the cooler to my chest. Vigilante followed me in silence as I headed down the pristine white marbled hall. I trudged my way to the elevator, aware of his tall, quiet presence.

  “So,” I said to fill the edgy silence as I pressed the elevator button. And missed. I pressed it again. “Have you known The Machine long?” Very few people knew Mason was The Machine, so I was curious about this new guy’s connection with Mason and Rowena, and whether he knew them personally at all.

  After a moment of silence he said in a low, gravelly voice, “Long enough.”

  Nice. Just what I wanted, to spend an evening with Mr. Sunshine himself.

  Well, no way was I going to let him cut conversation off like that. If I had to suffer with his disposition, then by cracky, he was gonna suffer with mine.

  * * *

  Vigilante shifted in the cushioned passenger seat of the little Honda Civic, having already scooted the seat back as far as it could go. Even so, he barely fit inside my ride, his long legs pressed against the glove compartment.

  And thus we were thrust together in the tightest of spaces. I could smell his mild cologne wafting over to me and had to stifle the urge every three seconds to lean in closer and get a good sniff.

  As subtly as possible I watched him scanned the streets, paying me little attention. He responded to my attempts at conversation with slight nods and the occasional grunt. So because I’m a nervous talker, I blabbed on and on.

  Honestly, I have no idea what I talked about. I think it started with me bitching about traffic and then moved into other inane topics at the speed of light. The quieter he was, the more I felt the urge to fill the silence.

  Finally I asked, “Did they tell you why you’re protecting me?” I also really wanted to ask if he knew about Mason cheating with my cousin, but figured that probably wasn’t the choicest of subjects at the moment.

  Vigilante remained silent, eyes closed, head tilted back on the headrest of the seat. Maybe he was quiet because he knew why Rowena hated my guts. Maybe he despised me for my part in Mason’s infidelity.

  I swallowed, disappointed. Not that I should have cared about his feelings on the topic. He was just another superhero, someone who hid his identity from everyone—including me. Why worry about his opinion then?

  But for some reason, I did.

  “What did you ask me?” Vigilante opened his eyes and finally looked at me, the question in his eyes.

  I sighed, chewing on my lower lip. “Did The Machine tell you why you’re protecting me?”

  “Yes.” More silence.

  “Okay then.” Obviously his superpower wasn’t in small talk.

  I continued to nibble on my lip, pulling the car into a narrow driveway and parking behind a brick building. I reached behind me and grabbed the cooler—now my new best friend—then opened the driver’s side door.

  “Here’s the dry cleaner,” I said. “I need to get Mason’s uniform.”

  “Be my guest.”

  I stared at him, heart suddenly thudding in my chest. I didn’t want to leave the car by myself after Morphero’s warnings. “Aren’t you coming in with me? I’m—I—” I stopped, swallowing hard, then sucked in a small, quick breath. I was a little nervous.

  Okay, I was petrified, but too proud to admit it. What if someone was out there, waiting for me?

  He stared at me for a second. In a low voice he finally said, “Yes, of course.” He exited the car and headed into the dry cleaner behind me.

  The bell jingled when the door opened. We stepped into the brightly lit room, where suits and dresses and clothes were strung up in the background. The room itself was immaculately clean.

  “Who is it?” a delicate voice called from the back.

  “Mrs. Wong, it’s Jenna,” I said. “I’m here to get The Machine’s uniform. Is it ready?”

  “Be right there,” she replied.

  A moment later, Mrs. Wong popped up in front of the counter. She had to be no bigger than four feet tall, and she was dressed from head to toe in a tiny pink jumpsuit.

  The look on Vigilante’s face almost made me giggle. His eye
s were popped wide open, his dark eyebrows shooting straight up into his hairline. I could tell exactly what he was thinking—Mrs. Wong didn’t look strong enough to physically carry a suit, much less run a whole store by herself.

  She eyed Vigilante up and down. “What you looking at?” she asked, hostility rippling through her voice. She bared her teeth, revealing teeny fangs no bigger than my pinky nail.

  He jerked back, startled. I’d felt the same way when I’d first met Mrs. Wong. She had some kind of morphing powers, but only used them to protect her thriving business. Pretty much every superhero in the district frequented her store. In fact, I bet she even got business from several local villains. Not that she’d tell, of course. Discretion came with the territory.

  Personally, I’d give anything to know how she got all those stains out of spandex.

  “He’s okay,” I said to her. “The league hired him to protect me.”

  “You need protection? You ask me.” She pushed out her chest and poked one little finger toward it. “I win kung fu competition twice in nineteen seventy-four.”

  I bit back a smile. “You got it. If ‘tough guy’ here doesn’t work out,” I said, thumbing in his direction, “I’ll call you.”

  Mrs. Wong glanced at Vigilante again then dismissed him with her eyes. “Anyway, I get your clothes.” She disappeared into the back, reappearing a second later with The Machine’s uniform in a bag. “Anything else?”

  “Thanks, that’s it,” I replied, taking the bag with my free hand. “Just put it on the tab.”

  “Yes, okay. Bye-bye,” Mrs. Wong said, her face deceptively angelic.

  I almost felt bad for people stupid enough to wander into her lair thinking she was an easy hit—she’d probably tear them up and feed them their own asses.

  We left, me snickering behind my hand. I slipped the cooler onto the floorboard and draped the dry cleaning bag across into the back seat then got in the driver’s seat.

  “She’s…feisty.” Vigilante folded his long, muscular body into the passenger side again.

  “I think she likes you,” I replied, laughing. I tucked myself into the driver’s seat, turning the car on.

  “I don’t think she likes anyone,” he mumbled under his breath, “except you.”

  “Better not get on her bad side then.” I went to shift the car into reverse, but a loud thud on the back of my trunk froze the car in place.

  I slammed it back into park. “Oh God, what—”

  Vigilante flew out of his seat and dashed to the back of the car, not waiting to hear the rest of my sentence. I spun around, trying to see through the back window. Two punks stood there in matching dark green spandex, greasy-haired and openly derisive.

  “Oh, lookie here,” the blond one said in a loud voice, baring his teeth in an exaggerated fashion so everyone in the free world could see his gums. “This little girl’s got a protector. Well, listen, I’ll take you down, and then I’ll get her. You won’t stop me from completing my mission.”

  “That’s right,” the black-haired guy said. He dramatically threw back his head and laughed. “You’re mine, sucka.”

  These were guys sent to get the crystal? They sounded like they’d gone through Captain Kirk’s Superhero School for Overactors. But like with Mrs. Wong, appearances could be deceiving, so maybe it’d behoove me not to underestimate them.

  I rolled down my window. “What’s going on?” I called out to Vigilante. “Should I come out?”

  “Stay in the car,” he called back to me. “I’ll handle this.” I saw the bottom of his trenchcoat flap lightly around his ankles as he stood in the parking lot. He made a formidable picture, standing tall and proud in the stark yellow streetlight, blocking my car from them. I was suddenly glad he was on my side.

  With a speed I wouldn’t have guessed possible, the black-haired guy threw a series of knives toward Vigilante’s face.

  Holy crap, this was no game.

  My heart stopped, and I watched as Vigilante dodged out of the way with super speed, left-right-left-right. The knives sailed safely past his head, clanging into the dry cleaner’s brick wall and falling to the ground.

  The blond guy ran toward Vigilante, who deftly grabbed him by the lapel, pulling him up close to his face. “Like flying?” Vigilante asked.

  Before the blond could reply, Vigilante threw him across the parking lot. It had to be a fifty-foot toss. Blondie screamed as he soared through the air, his cries echoing down the otherwise silent street.

  “What is going on out here?” Mrs. Wong appeared in the doorway, her high voice somehow cutting through the blond guy’s screams.

  The black-haired guy had taken off, nowhere to be seen. No doubt the smart move—crossing Vigilante, or even Mrs. Wong, didn’t seem like the best idea.

  I ran out of the car toward her, shaking and breathless. “Oh my God, Mrs. Wong, these two guys—”

  “I handled it,” Vigilante said, staring hard at Mrs. Wong. He added, “Jenna’s safe.”

  She eyed him up and down then nodded slowly. “Better be.” She swaggered back into her shop, looking like a tiny cowboy in hot pink.

  “Get back in the car,” he said to me. “It’s okay now.”

  Before I could stop myself I ran over and hugged him tight. “Thank you,” I whispered, pressing my face against his chest. Even though I worked for Mason, I wasn’t around when he was fighting baddies, so it was scary watching Vigilante in action and worrying, hoping he’d be okay.

  He froze then hugged me back. But just for a moment.

  Chapter 4

  I keyed the door then slapped my forehead. Crap! Britney’s hair color! In all the fuss over the crystal and the scuttle at Mrs. Wong’s dry cleaner shop, I’d completely forgotten to buy it.

  I stepped inside. “Britney, I’m home.” I looked at Vigilante, whose intimidating, massive height lurked behind me in the doorway. “This is my cousin, Britney,” I said to him, waving a hand in her direction.

  Luckily, she seemed to be in a much better mood than when I’d left her. Probably because of the glass of wine she held in her hand.

  A plush purple towel wrapped tightly around her head, she rose from my couch and slid up to Vigilante, eyes wide, breasts spilling forth from the tiniest pale pink tube top known to mankind.

  “So nice to meet you,” she breathed at him, sticking out her hand and shaking his vigorously. “Jenna, who is this?”

  “This is my bodyguard. He’s here to protect me for a couple of weeks for some work-related business. Nothing major,” I promised when I saw lines of worry crease her brow.

  Britney's face relaxed, and she nodded. "Okay, as long as you're safe." She eyed Vigilante up and down, a half smile on her face. “Well, he looks like he’ll do a fine job.”

  In all honesty I would probably be pissed if I didn’t know Britney always talked to men like that. However, I knew from experience she didn’t realize how brazen and flirtatious she came across. That didn’t stop most guys from picking up her unconscious vibes though.

  Except oddly enough, Vigilante didn’t seem to care. He withdrew his hand from her grasp, giving her a polite smile. “Thanks. I’ll try.”

  She flitted off to the kitchen, unfazed.

  He turned his attention back to me. “Those guys at the dry cleaners meant business. We can’t stay here—it’s not safe. Grab some clothes. We’re gonna crash at my place for a few days.”

  I pushed down the momentary burst of pleasure from having won his attention over Britney’s Double Ds of Danger. Then I felt bad, because that was petty. Besides, Vigilante wasn’t my type at all. I didn’t care if he planted his gaze on Britney’s boobs.

  No, he was just a bodyguard, nothing better than a modern-day mercenary. Okay, since he’d tossed that guy like he was a baseball, I could allow myself some gratitude toward Vigilante as well. But nothing else.

  “All right, give me a minute to pack.”

  At the sound of Britney’s off-key humming while she dug thr
ough the fridge, a thought popped in my head.

  “But what about Britney?” I asked.

  “What about me?” she asked, her voice muffled. She faced us, a half-eaten stick of string cheese dangling out of her mouth. “Hey, did you get my hair color, by the way? I need to fix this mess.”

  “We’ll head out for it in a bit,” I replied to her. I turned to Vigilante. “She can’t stay here by herself.” I sighed, giving a pointed look toward the kitchen. “She’s gotta come with us to your place.”

  He crossed his arms. “No. I’m protecting you, not her.”

  I squinted hard at him, crossing my arms too. “Well, guess what,” I said through a tightened jaw, “she’s The Machine’s current…thing, so she needs to stay safe. And she’s my responsibility while she’s visiting me. I’m sure they’ll compensate you for it.”

  Vigilante stared at me, his slate eyes not blinking. I stared back.

  After a minute, he looked away. “Fine,” he mumbled, checking his watch. “You both have twenty minutes to pack your stuff. One bag each.”

  Britney and I scrambled around the apartment, and I tried to cram my belongings into an overnight bag. I picked a sensible pair of versatile black shoes, three pairs of underclothes, two dress shirts, a pair of pants, and a skirt. Then, into the bathroom to fling in some toiletries.

  “I’m ready,” I said, slinging the bag over my shoulder a few minutes later.

  “Me too,” Britney said, dragging her own jam-packed bag which wouldn’t fully zip. I could see the tips of her hair dryer and curling iron poking out. Glad to see her priorities are in order.

  We locked up the apartment and headed back to my car.

  “I’ll drive,” Vigilante said, thrusting his hand out to me.

  I felt my hackles rise instantly at his demand. Not even a question. Patience. I quickly reminded myself I’d be dead right now if it weren’t for him.

  “Fine,” I muttered. I dug into my pocket and procured the car keys, dropping it into his open palm.