Red Light Hero

by Kory Shen

  "Go!" HumiliT shouted. "Now!"

  Nail jumped through the opening, but a stray tongue of energy caught his right shoulder. He fell to the ground after he came through, clutching his shoulder. Cover Girl smelled burnt flesh.

  HumiliT and Pain stepped out of the energy barrier. Their uniforms were in tatters, leaving their bodies half bare.

  "Get up!" HumiliT hissed.

  Without a sound, Nail picked himself up and released his shoulder, taking up his position with the rest of the beta circle around HumiliT. Cover Girl flinched away from the gory burn mark on his upper body. Her eyes returned to Sire.

  "So kind of you to join us, HumiliT," Sire said.

  HumiliT's eyes burned with shame, but she kept quiet. Electrophile snickered.

  "Only the strongest are fit to serve as my betas," Sire said. "Don't forget that. And you." The swirl of blue light and transparency that made up his face turned to Maiden. "It seems you can't handle your own betas."

  "What do you expect? They need a man," Electrophile said.

  Maiden's eyes burned with fury. For an instant, Cover Girl thought she might actually attack Electrophile. Instead, Maiden knelt before Sire with a bowed head. "My apologies. I'm ready to receive your punishment."

  Sire chuckled. "I'm sure you are. That's not why you're here, though. Rise, Maiden."

  Maiden gazed up at Sire with curiosity as she stood.

  "You." Sire was looking at Cover Girl. She stopped mid-breath. Her hands grew cold. "I know what you intend, Maiden, but when you punish her, leave her skin intact. Her public figure is useful."

  Her identity as Page Glory was no secret to the others. She was one of the few influential alphas who intermingled with ordinary humans. Not that the humans knew.

  Cover Girl exhaled in relief. Maiden wouldn't be able to do her worst with Sire's warning. She had never imagined that the glitzy Page Glory would protect her.

  "You have permission to destroy what they can't see," Sire said. The shimmering face lowered its gaze. Even if she couldn't see his eyes, Cover Girl knew what he meant. She shuddered.

  Electrophile laughed. "Make it hurt. Just rip it all out."

  Cover Girl didn't care if Maiden would get mad. She disappeared.

  "Aw, did we hurt her feelings? Can't see those either, right?" Electrophile laughed again.

  This is what they had become? The public thought they were heroes. It was a joke. Cover Girl wavered between terror and disgust at the group around her.

  "Enough. Out of mistakes comes opportunity. This is the lesson of life." Sire surveyed the room. "The man called Alan Star is at The Strip under the watch of Godmother. Find him and bring him to me."

  Someone gasped.

  "Godmother?" HumiliT asked. "You want us to cross her?"

  "Is there a problem?" Sire asked.

  "No, Sire," HumiliT said. "But why risk that for the man? He's an alpha three."

  "I've come across some information to suggest otherwise."

  There were more gasps. Cover Girl settled into the familiar role of watcher. She noted who reacted, and how. Electrophile and Stalker exchanged confused glances. So the information wasn't from them.

  Maiden was a statue as usual, but the glimmer in her eye betrayed her surprise. Given HumiliT's outburst, this meant Sire had learned whatever he had on his own. What would draw the interest of Sire himself?

  Cover Girl knew. Her stomach twisted as the truth surfaced. Alan had reinfected her, somehow. She had thought it was a fluke, a random act of biology. But what if it meant something else? Idol jerked her head towards Cover Girl's direction. Idol had felt her fear.

  But what had Sire learned? What was Alan?

  Sire wasn't done. "Electrophile. Maiden. HumiliT. The one who brings me Star will earn a week of my bed."

  Cover Girl couldn't believe what she had heard. The others were silent, too.

  Once he created an alpha one, Sire never slept with them again. There was no need for him, and the alpha ones were expected to form self-sustaining beta circles.

  Ordinarily, repeated cross-infection between two alphas would only maintain or strengthen pre-existing viral strains. Sire's seed was different, though. His alphavirus was the most potent of them all. There were rumors that a second infection cycle would have the chance to activate new strains, granting new powers.

  Sire's words were proof that the rumors were correct.

  Maiden grimaced, her lips pressed tightly together. Cover Girl realized that Maiden didn't care about the reward. She wanted Alan dead.

  Sire noticed Maiden's response as well. "I had hoped a reward would change your mind. Think on it, Maiden."

  Maiden nodded. "As you say, Sire."

  "You are right to fear Godmother," Sire said to HumiliT. "Tread lightly in The Strip, but make no mistake. I would sacrifice all three of you to gain this man. Bring Alan Star to me."

  Behind the shield of her invisibility, Cover Girl wiped away a tear. Alan. Would he ever forgive her?

  The others whispered excitedly. Electrophile's smile grew wider and wider. HumiliT motioned to her beta circle, already plotting her course of action. Maiden was silent, but her burning eyes betrayed her true intention: vengeance at any cost.

  No, these weren't heroes anymore. These were monsters. She had to warn Alan.

  The monsters were coming.

  CHAPTER 16

  Alan stood in the shadows as a stream of mostly men and some women entered the club. Christ, this was ridiculous, but he needed money.

  Escaping the underground complex and hitching a ride on a truck had been easy while invisible. He had also stolen food from a restaurant, but he didn't know how long his invisibility powers would last. He had last slept with Cover Girl, what, over a week ago? He couldn't rely on them.

  There was a lull in the crowd. Only a few people remained outside the club's entrance. Alan's stomach growled, reminding him why he was there. He summoned his nerves and stepped forward.

  When it was his turn in line, the shaggy-haired bouncer held out his hand. "Two hundred."

  Alan's mouth dropped open. A two hundred cover charge? Shit, he needed to work here. He had chosen the club because it was one of the nicer ones, and the clientele indicated that they likely hired male performers. "Actually, I'm looking for a job."

  The bouncer pulled back his hand. "Job? Like a bouncer job? We're full."

  "No, I mean work inside," Alan said.

  Bouncer rubbed his eyes and looked him over. "Oh, I see. You might have a shot. Eric's in charge of the stables. I'll call him up." He reached for the phone in his pocket.

  "Stable?" Wasn't that what they called the prostitutes? "No, no, I'm looking to, I don't know, like just dance, maybe strip. Do you hire dancers?"

  The bouncer stared at him, then laughed. "Are you fucking kidding? This is The Rodeo. You think we charge two hundred cover for a cattle show? No, baby, here you get bull rides. Lots of bucking and bouncing." The bouncer pumped his pelvis. "You want to work here, you give rides, lots of rides."

  The others behind him in the line were getting restless.

  "Hey, come on," someone said. "Hurry up."

  "Hold on, I'll call Eric," the bouncer said.

  "No, that's okay." Alan quickly walked away.

  Shit.

  Every place in The Strip, as far as Alan could tell, was a whorehouse, a steakhouse, or a fucking whorehouse that served steak dinners. None of the restaurants he had approached were interested in hiring a vagabond with no identification. The staff had looked at him as if he was a bucket of salmonella.

  The men's clubs outnumbered other venues by far, but they only hired women. Maybe if he asked enough, he could find a job as a bouncer or DJ. He was smart and responsible. If only they gave him a chance. He kicked a wall in frustration.

  "Hey! Watch it there." A shirtless well-muscled man with dragons tattooed on both biceps pointed at Alan.

  "Sorry," Alan said. "This your club?"

  "You looking fo
r a girl?" He frowned, noticing Alan's less-than-pristine state. "You been drinking? No drunk customers allowed. You got money?"

  "No, but do you have any jobs for a guy with business experience? I can bounce or run errands too."

  The man immediately lost interest. "Scram, will you? I don't need hobos scaring off the customers. We're a classy joint." The man shook his fist at an approaching woman. "Hey, Daisy! You're late!"

  Daisy was a slim Asian woman with black hair down to the middle of her back. She wore a tight pink dress that was too short to cover anything and a matching set of pink heels.

  "Get the fuck over here!" the man screamed. When she was in reach, he seized a fistful of Daisy's hair and dragged her to the ground screaming. He slapped her repeatedly. "What did I tell you about being late? Huh? What did I say?" He picked Daisy up and slugged her in the gut. She fell over, retching.

  Alan froze in shock. The Strip wasn't the type of place you took your children, but he didn't know what to expect. Was this business as usual? Didn't Godmother's crime syndicate run all business here? He didn't want to interfere, but he couldn't bring himself to walk away.

  "What the fuck you looking at?" the man glared at Alan.

  "Nothing," Alan muttered.

  "That's right. Now move along." The man picked Daisy up and punched her in the stomach again, knocking her down. She whimpered as he kicked her.

  Before Alan knew what he was thinking, a red glass-like bar appeared in the middle of the pimp's chest. The man grabbed the foreign object with both hands.

  "The fuck—" He fell over, dead.

  Alan stared at the body lying on a growing pool of blood. The red bar vanished.

  He couldn't breathe. What had he done? He hadn't even moved. He wasn't a murderer. He wasn't. He had simply thought—

  Daisy screamed.

  Alan ran over to the woman. She was crawling on her hands and knees away from the corpse.

  "Daisy? Is that your name, Daisy? You all right?"

  "He's dead! You killed him."

  "I…I don't know."

  Alan glanced back at the dead body. Its head faced him. Just moments before, that face had been alive — blinking, spitting, and screaming. Alan bent over on his knees. His stomach convulsed and heaved, but he hadn't eaten that day. Nothing but bitter acid came up his throat. He spat onto the pavement.

  "You're kind of cute." Daisy patted his back.

  Alan wiped his mouth. "Huh?"

  He knew he wasn't bad looking, but he was puking his guts up next to a dead man. What the hell? Oh, right.

  "I don't have any money," Alan said.

  "None? Not even a little?" Daisy sighed. "That's fine. Want to fuck for free? You saved me, sweetie." She leaned over to catch his eyes. He was still bent over in case his stomach had more complaints.

  Alan raised his head to see Daisy better. Her lips were still bleeding from the earlier beating, and her makeup ran down her eyes in dark smears. What kind of girl asks to fuck thirty seconds after witnessing a murder? Was this what it meant to live on the streets of The Strip?

  He stood, but his knees wobbled. The lack of food and sudden stress was getting to him. He needed rest, food, a piece of sanity. Anything.

  Daisy reached out to steady him. "Why don't you come inside. We'll get you refreshed, cowboy. This one's on me."

  "Yeah, maybe that's a good idea."

  Alan staggered towards the building's entrance, leaning on Daisy. Inside was dim. He stumbled, unable to see properly.

  "Follow me," Daisy said.

  She guided him down a hallway and into a side room. There was a bed inside and a standing shower stall.

  "Why don't we clean you up first," Daisy said as she tugged on his pants and nodded at the shower.

  Alan fumbled with his pants, unsure if he was trying to stop or help Daisy. He kept seeing the dead man holding the red bar in his hands. He had killed someone with nothing but a thought. It had been too easy, too simple. Oh god. What was he?

  He moved in a daze as the woman stripped and showered him like a child. She guided him to the bed, naked, and had him lie down. He was vaguely aware of Daisy taking off her clothes and straddling him. When she reached down to take hold of him, he came to his senses.

  "Stop!" Alan reached out to grab her wrist. "You can't. It's not safe."

  Daisy smiled. "It's okay. You get special services. For saving me."

  "No, it's not that. I'm not safe."

  Daisy frowned. "Do you have a disease? You look clean." She bent down to examine his cock, stretching it one way then the other.

  "No, no disease. It's not like that."

  Alan had thought he had grown tired of sex after his time working for Godmother, but he hardened at the tugging from Daisy's inspection. His resolve weakened, and his member grew stiffer and stiffer.

  "Then, what's the problem?" Daisy crawled on top of him and placed his tip against her entrance. She kissed his chest, her tongue toying with his nipple.

  Fuck it. He had the alphavirus, not a real disease. Most people would kill for it.

  Daisy rubbed his tip against her slippery slit. He needed this. He wanted it. Giving someone the alphavirus was a good thing, wasn't it? He was doing a favor.

  Alan was tired of it all. Fuck Godmother and all the alpha bullshit.

  He let out a deep breath as he slid into the comforting warmth of Daisy's body.

  * * *

  Alan woke up in a panic for a moment before remembering where he was. The Asian girl. What was her name? Daisy. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn't place it. He had slept with so many girls in the last several days, including several Asians, but there was no way that she had been one of them. He shook his head. He was just bad at remembering names and faces.

  He sat up. Daisy was leaning against the wall, watching him.

  "Hey," he said. "How long was I asleep?"

  "Not too long. It's three in the morning. The night's still young if you want another round. You can't stay here forever, though. I have to work."

  "Oh." Alan wasn't sure how he felt about that. "Yeah, work. Do you know where I can find work?"

  "Didn't you try any of the other clubs?" Daisy asked. "I'm sure they'd take you."

  "Hell, no!"

  "Why not? It's good money."

  Alan spoke carefully. "I'm just not…it's mostly guys who are customers, right? I don't think I can handle that."

  Daisy shrugged. "It's no different than a girl dealing with an ugly guy who smells like shit. You hold your breath and hope he cums quickly."

  Alan squeezed his eyes to get that image out of his mind. He opened them again. "Do you know where I could get a job that, you know, doesn't need me to entertain men? I don't mind physical labor, the regular sort."

  Daisy pursed her lips, thinking. "A big strong guy like you? You could get a job at the warehouses? Receiving shipments, that kind of thing."

  That sounded promising. Alan nodded. "Yeah, where can I find these warehouses?"

  "The warehouses are on the east side. Follow the main road past the water tower, and you'll see them."

  "Perfect." Alan's stomach growled, reminding him that he still hadn't fed it. "Um, do you have anything I could eat?"

  Daisy had a brown paper bag in her hands. He had assumed it was booze, but when she opened it up for him, there were donuts. His eyes lit up.

  "Take them. All of them," Daisy said.

  "You're an angel," Alan said as he reached for he first donut and devoured it. "Were you going to eat these? How do you stay so thin?"

  Daisy smiled. "I have a fast metabolism."

  Alan bit into his second donut. "Your accent. You weren't born in the US?"

  Daisy shook her head. "Nope. Came from China when I was younger."

  Alan stopped chewing. "How old are you?"

  "How old do you want me to be?" she asked with a coy smile.

  "No, seriously. Fuck, don't tell me you're a teenager." Alan frowned.

&nbs
p; "I moved here when I was eighteen. I've worked here for five years."

  "Worked here? The Strip? This place?"

  Daisy nodded.

  "Since you were eighteen?" Alan crushed the donut in his hand. He looked at the custard oozing into his palm. "Is that legal?"

  "It's legal in The Strip." Daisy shrugged. "They ship a fresh batch of about a hundred young girls here every month, most from Eastern Europe, some from China and south Asia."

  Alan shook his head. "Human trafficking at that scale? Haven't the Feds noticed? How does Godmother keep this place running? How the hell can a woman let a place like this even exist?"

  Daisy frowned and her brows furrowed. "Godmother's a great woman. She gave us a home, money. I make enough to support a family of twelve back in China. Working conditions are good. We take classes to earn degrees. We have everything we want."

  Alan stared at her. "Good working conditions? Wasn't that pimp beating you? You call that good?"

  "Things aren't always what they seem."

  Daisy's eyes had shone with conviction as she spoke of Godmother. It was no use trying to convince her otherwise. "I still don't see why the Feds haven't gotten involved. Everyone knows The Strip is run by criminals."

  Daisy slapped Alan hard. He rubbed his stinging cheek.

  "Don't talk about her like that. Godmother is not a criminal. Your great leaders, your great men — politicians, businessmen, actors, sports stars — who do you think visits The Strip? The ones who talk about how great they are. The ones who say one thing and do another. Who's the real criminal? Godmother only gives them what they want. She gives us all what we want."

  Alan watched Daisy give her speech in fascination. Were all the other women like Daisy? Right or wrong, Godmother wasn't raising call girls. She was raising an army. That was what she wanted with him, too, wasn't it? An army of alphas. Suddenly, Alan wasn't sure if he should be more afraid of Godmother or the alphas hunting him.

  Daisy was still glaring at him.

  "I should leave. Thanks for the donuts." He finished the second donut, wiping his hands on his pants.

  Daisy's expression softened. "You can come back whenever you want. You have to respect Godmother, though." She gave him a quick hug. "I forgive you. I know you've been having a hard time."