Hero Status

by Kristen Brand

  Didn’t hide, she thought. Gave them all the thoughts and more. Overloaded them. Most of them unconscious.

  “Most?” I asked.

  Most. All. Not sure. I…

  I got a confused jumble of images and words, and then she slipped from my mind entirely. She was limp in my arm. If I were an average man, I wasn’t sure I could’ve both held her and stayed standing.

  I looked to Jean-Baptiste’s men for help, but there was no sign of any of them. So much for him taking care of his guests.

  What now? If Val had just knocked out a slew of DSA telepaths, turning ourselves in was even less of an option than before. Moreen was going to be furious. Jean-Baptiste had abandoned us, but the maintenance elevator hadn’t gone anywhere. I slung Val over my shoulder and continued to make my way forward.

  Just take it one step at a time, I told myself. You have to get to the end of the hallway before you can do anything else.

  Luckily, we were away from the crowded dining area, since I must have looked like a serial killer carrying off my next victim. The sound of voices came from somewhere behind me, but I didn’t stop to check if whoever it was saw me. I just kept going forward, trying not to jostle Val too much. Her perfume filled my nose, and I resisted the urge to clutch her tighter in desperation. I couldn’t let them take her from me again.

  I reached the “Staff Only” door, pushed it open with my shoulder, and slipped inside. The room was small and windowless. Dim lights on the ceiling revealed a scuffed floor and shelves of cleaning supplies. There were vacuums and mops, buckets and bottles. Several of those carts the cleaning ladies pushed between hotel rooms sat by the door. The place smelled of chemicals and dust.

  I spotted the elevator in the corner, plain metal doors that had long since lost their shine. I hurried over and pressed the down button.

  I waited.

  Jean-Baptiste had already ridden it down. What if he was holding it up at the bottom? A DSA SWAT team might already be in the building. Probably a few superheroes, too. This was Miami, so Freezefire would be there. The tactical part of my brain recognized this as an advantage. Since I’d trained Julio, there wasn’t much he could throw at me that I wouldn’t see coming.

  And now you’re going to fight him? So that you can evade arrest? What the hell are you thinking, Del Toro?

  I ignored the sensible part of my brain. I’d been doing it all my life, and it was too late to change my ways now.

  The elevator door opened with a rickety groan, and I hurried inside. I pressed the button carefully, because really, all I needed right now was to break the darn thing. The elevator began to slowly descend, and I forced myself to breathe steadily and stay calm.

  “Val,” I said, shaking her slightly. She didn’t stir.

  Val, I thought. You need to wake up.

  She moaned slightly, but that was all I got out of her. This would go so much easier if she was conscious. Me carrying her around like a caveman was going to draw unwanted attention. We wouldn't be able to truly blend into the crowd, not with my limp and her scars, but if she could have walked, we could have hidden for a little longer, at least. Long enough for Val to come up with a plan. She was good at that.

  The elevator slowed to a stop with a metal screech, and I stepped out. A wave of heat and humidity hit me, but I wasn’t outside; I was in a laundry room. Dozens of washing machines lined the walls, filling the air with dull humming and the sound of sloshing water. Piles of sheets, towels, and pillowcases were everywhere, all an identical shade of light blue. A half-dozen women were folding and ironing, having been chatting away a moment before. Now they stared at me in surprise.

  “Hi there,” I greeted. When all else failed, confidence was the best strategy. At the very least, it might throw them off for a second. Then again, Jean-Baptiste must have come this way just moments before. These women most likely knew the drill.

  I walked toward the door, and none of them moved to stop me. Now all I had to do was find a back exit, maybe a drop-off for delivery trucks. By now, my knee was throbbing, my uneven steps jostling Val even more. I had to keep going. My foot splashed in a puddle of water leaking out from under one of the washing machines.

  I slipped. My feet flew out from under me, and I hit the ground hard. Pain exploded everywhere. The world flashed as my eyes clenched shut and then flew open. I gritted my teeth and sucked in air. It felt like someone had taken a hammer to my spine.

  Val.

  I moved to examine her and saw that I hadn’t slipped in water. The puddle had turned to ice.

  “Next time, just tell me to stop,” I growled. “It’s not like I can outrun you.”

  Julio approached me cautiously from the other side of the room, jaw set and muscles tight. I ignored him and checked Val’s head for bumps or blood. I found none, but it didn’t let me breathe much easier.

  “Dammit, Julio, you could’ve cracked her skull with that stunt.”

  He at least had the decency to let a flash of guilt cross his face. Then he told the cleaning ladies to get out. They hurried from the room.

  “Val didn’t kill Harris,” I said, wondering why I even bothered. It hadn’t mattered any of the other times I’d told them.

  “I’m not here about that.”

  His voice was soft and reserved, not what I’d been expecting, given his combative stance. He watched me warily.

  I moved Val into a slightly more comfortable-looking position. Then I took hold of my cane and pushed myself slowly up. Joints, muscle, and bone screamed in protest. My back decided my knee had been getting too much attention all these years and did its best to cause even more pain. I couldn’t keep the wince from my face.

  Julio tensed but didn’t move to attack.

  “Then what are you here for?” I asked.

  He met my eyes, reminding me of a time when he’d been too shy to do so.

  “Director Lee has been psy-assaulted,” he said. “Three witnesses saw the Black Valentine leaving the scene of the crime. It’s over. I’m taking both of you in.”

  I stared, the silence drawing out horribly without anything happening to disprove the words he’d just spoken. My head shook from side to side, and it felt independent from my control. My grip on the handle of my cane began to tremble. Mo…?

  “When? How?” My voice came out weak and wavering. “Is she all right?”

  “This morning. I just told you how. And she’s in critical condition, last I heard.”

  “No, this—this isn’t right. Something bigger is going on.” I stepped toward him, imploring. “Can’t you—”

  My cane burned white hot. I dropped it with a hiss, and it clinked against the floor, rolling. Its metal handle was glowing red.

  Julio wasn’t pulling any punches. Of course, he stayed a safe distance away from me—he knew my powers were close-range. I should have brought a weapon. I looked around for something to improvise with, but all that was close was a pile of towels and pillows.

  “Just turn yourself in,” Julio said. “Don’t be an idiot, Dave. Believe it or not, I don’t actually want to fight you.”

  A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. The kid was afraid of me, and damn it all, he should be.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  He watched me warily. “For what?”

  “For not keeping in touch with you. After what happened… my reputation was going down the toilet faster than a bag of crack before a drug bust. I didn’t want to take you down with me.”

  He was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “You picked one hell of a time to come out with that.”

  “I know. But the way this day is going, I might not get another chance to say it.”

  I grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. It hit him in the face with a cartoonish whoomph, knocking him off his feet. (Don’t look at me like that. Winning is a lot more important than dignity.) I had a few moments before he’d manage to stand again. I wrapped a towel around my hand and picked up my still-hot cane,
moving forward as fast as my bruised body would let me.

  Julio was faster. He shook off the blow and jumped up, and I still wasn’t close enough to hit him. At least, not with my hand.

  I jabbed him in the stomach with the end of my cane.

  He sucked in a wheezing breath and dropped to his knees, curling inward as he clutched his stomach.

  “I’m sorry for this, too.”

  I tapped him on the head.

  He went down.

  I limped back to Val, taking advantage of adrenaline to numb the pain. I scooped her up and headed for the door. Our car could be anywhere, but I’d just have to complete my descent into crime and steal a different one. Val would be proud when she woke up.

  I pushed open the door, squinting through the sunlight.

  A SWAT team was waiting for me, guns drawn.

  “Hands where we can see them,” one shouted. “We will shoot.”

  There really wasn’t anything to debate. I was bulletproof; Val wasn’t.

  I kept my hands where they could see them and held still as they approached.

  I'm so sorry.

  Chapter 8

  The first thing they did was separate us. Val’s unconscious form was put on a stretcher and rolled away, but only after they pumped her full of exatrin. I was put in handcuffs, the thick kind made from some stainless steel alloy designed specifically for prisoners with super-strength. I’d been in a pair once before. It had been during a presentation at a police station about strategies for dealing with supervillains. The crowd had gotten a good chuckle out of my theatrical attempts to break free.

  As I was escorted into a reinforced transport van, I spotted Walter. It confirmed what I didn’t want to believe: he wouldn’t be in charge if Moreen was still around.

  His gaze met mine, and the look of silent hatred he gave me was worse than any outraged shouting.

  They locked me up somewhere under the Miami DSA building, in a reinforced steel room with walls a good three feet thick. A toilet and a cot were all that was inside. I sat on the cot. The mattress was thin and hard and squeaked when I moved, and the white sheets smelled of bleach. Vaguely, I wondered who the last person to use this room had been, and whether I’d put them here.

  Time passed. Minutes? Hours? They’d taken my watch along with all my other personal belongings. No one came to talk to me. I had no idea what had happened to Val. I tried to imagine she was in a cell not far from here wondering the same thing about me, but more likely, she was still unconscious, probably on her way to an even higher-security facility.

  No doubt we were the top story on the news. The DSA had kept the hotel crowd at a distance as we were taken away, but people had camera phones. I was sure the news networks could find at least one unflattering photo that made me look like a deranged killer. Reporters would be all over the hotel now, interviewing witnesses and filming the scene. “White Knight and the Black Valentine Arrested.” It would segue nicely into coverage of Miami Hero-Fest.

  Lucio would see it, if he hadn’t already.

  Maybe Eddy and Irma had seen it first and gotten Elisa away. Val had several safe houses around the city. They could take Elisa to one of them until… what? They couldn’t know when or if we’d be released. Were they just going to take her away and raise her themselves? And that was assuming they were even trying to keep her from Lucio. Both of them were old mob hands; they’d worked for the Belmontes.

  They’d worked for Val, I corrected myself. She wouldn’t have them in our household if they weren’t trustworthy.

  But Lucio had gotten here so fast last time Val was arrested. Eddy and Irma couldn’t be prepared. I hadn’t been prepared. I’d thought the threat from Lucio had ended once they’d released Val from custody. There had been other things to worry about. I’d thought planning for that possibility could wait for another day.

  I’d been an idiot.

  I slumped forward, my head in my hands. Elisa was going to pay the price for my stupidity. Val was paying it right now. I’d failed the two people more important to me than anything in the world.

  And Moreen… I could barely stand to think of her, of the cold reality that she might be dead right now. If only I could have caught whoever was behind this before they had the chance to attack her. I didn’t even know how it had happened. She’d been my friend for so long, and the last time we’d spoken, she’d been furious at me. There were so many things I needed to thank her for, so many reasons I had to apologize. Would I ever get the chance to make it up to her? Like a fool, I’d thought I’d have plenty of time to repay the favor.

  Val… Moreen… Harris… It seemed the only thing that linked them was a connection to me.

  It didn’t make any sense. If Trick and Treat were behind this, why were they targeting my friends and family? I’d never even met them. At least, I didn’t think so. At any rate, I was being self-centered. The three of them were all members of the superhero/villain community. I wasn’t the only link between them.

  But why was I even bothering to think about it? I couldn’t solve the mystery from in here. And even if I did somehow manage to miraculously pull it all together from inside a cell, no one would listen to me. Walter certainly wouldn’t go after a suspect on my word. He’d keep me down here until they decided what to charge me with, not take me on as a case consultant. Was there even a case anymore? Or was the investigation closed now that Val was back in custody?

  Time dragged on. I lay down on the scratchy sheet and lumpy pillow and tried to get some rest, but it was like my brain just wouldn’t shut off. I kept thinking about it all, arguing with myself before giving up, only to immediately start all over again. My knee ached, my back throbbed, and I could still feel the bruised ribs from Giordano every time I took a breath. I was worn out and beaten in every sense of the word.

  And this is the beginning of the rest of your life, said a voice in the back of my head. It wasn’t telepathic, just your ordinary nagging doubt. Maybe it was my conscience. You’re a criminal now, it said. All those kids who looked up to you, all those people you inspired, what are they going to think of you now?

  It doesn’t matter what other people think. But it did; it affected them in a million little ways I’d never be able to fully understand. I was a selfish bastard to think otherwise, not a good trait for a superhero. To my credit, I’d been very good at hitting bad guys.

  The thing was, if I could do it all over again, I wasn’t sure what I’d have done differently. I’d been a goner from the first moment I’d laid eyes on her.

  • • •

  It had been a crisp, cool autumn day—which had been good, because I sweated like a pig in my costume in the summer. Not that I was complaining about the costume. I’d lucked out, to be honest. The designers could have gone with the tight spandex that was all the rage in superhero fashion, and with my name already chosen, I’d been afraid I’d end up in some metal suit of armor like Hollywood’s idea of a medieval knight. My suit was white, of course. No getting around that. With silver and gold embellishments and sleeves of fake chain mail, it had an Arthurian feel without going completely overboard. Like all superhero suits, it was still slightly ridiculous, but it could have been a lot worse.

  At any rate, it was autumn, middle of the afternoon, in front of a bank. Not any old bank, but one of those big affairs designed to look like a government building in Washington, all white and stately with tall pillars and high stairs. Val was parked in front of it in a black Porsche 911 with the top rolled down. Security guards, tellers, and customers were moving up and down the steps like zombies, loading money into her car.

  The police formed a barrier some ways behind me, out of the Black Valentine’s known range of telepathic control. I approached first, since I was the superhero. I was there because I’d been the closest active agent, not because I was the best suited to face a telepath, but I went in because it was my job. There was no reason to subject anyone else to having their minds invaded and their bodies played w
ith like a puppet. Maybe I could hold her off long enough for the real professionals to arrive.

  She saw me, of course, and I felt the wave of her power crash into my mind. It was like a dream, where you went along with the craziest things without thinking, and trying to fly sounded like a perfectly logical thing to do. At that moment, nothing seemed more natural than going up and helping her. Those blocks of gold were heavy, after all, and I had super-strength.

  But I’d remembered my training and was already humming “The Song that Gets on Everybody’s Nerves” under my breath. It filled my mind, and I stumbled, shaking off her control. Her siren song called tantalizingly at the edge of my consciousness, but it couldn’t compete with the volume of that annoying, catchy tune. I kept walking forward, but not to help her; I was going to do my job.

  In a moment, I grew close enough to get a good look at her. She wore a glimmering mask over the top part of her face, like something you’d find at a Venetian carnival. Like mine, it wasn’t big enough to obscure her identity, not really. It was just a distraction, something fancy to draw people’s gaze so they wouldn’t pay attention to the traits of the person underneath. The way it accented her fine features, I was sure it had been custom-made. The woman was alluring, and she looked great in that bullet-proof corset. But these were all just details, to be noted and ignored.

  By now, she’d realized her mind-control wasn’t going to work, so she pulled out a gun and shot me.

  The bullet hit my chest like a hammer, but I’d be damned if I'd flinch in front of her. I kept walking forward.

  “Huh,” she said. “They really do bounce off of you.”

  She stomped down on the accelerator.

  The engine roared, but this was long before my bad knee. I was fast. Before she moved more than a foot, I lunged forward and grabbed her back bumper, lifting the car up at a forty-five degree angle. Val slammed forward into the steering wheel, the consequence of not fastening her seatbelt, and the Porsche’s back wheels spun fruitlessly in the air.