A Hesitant Hero (Book 2): Some Kind of Hero Read online

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Also by S. J. Delos

  Dedication

  CHAPTER 1: Six Months a Hero

  CHAPTER 2: The Public Idol

  CHAPTER 3: AN Unexpected Nomination

  CHAPTER 4: First World Hero Problems

  CHAPTER 5: A Mother’s Touch

  CHAPTER 6: No Good Deed

  CHAPTER 7: Quarantine is a Ten Letter Word

  CHAPTER 8: Unwanted Exposure

  CHAPTER 9: Museum Throwdown

  CHAPTER 10: Collateral Fallout

  CHAPTER 11: A Friendship Shattered

  CHAPTER 12: Visiting Hours

  CHAPTER 13: Drinks with a Madman

  CHAPTER 14: Problems All the Way Down

  CHAPTER 15: A Bigger Conspiracy

  CHAPTER 16: The End of the Line

  CHAPTER 17: A Funeral

  CHAPTER 18: Meeting the press

  CHAPTER 19: A Cold Day in Charlotte

  CHAPTER 20: The Thick Begins to Plotten

  CHAPTER 21: Advice from Beyond

  CHAPTER 22: Matters of the heart

  CHAPTER 23: A Windy City Welcome

  CHAPTER 24: American Idols

  CHAPTER 25: One on One with Major Freedom

  CHAPTER 26: Harbinger Hoedown

  CHAPTER 27 It’s All in Your Head

  CHAPTER 28: The Last Resistance

  CHAPTER 29: Party Time

  CHAPTER 30: Cocktail Hour

  CHAPTER 31: Ballroom Massacre

  CHAPTER 32: Nightfall

  CHAPTER 33: Rooftop Rumble

  CHAPTER 34: Aftermath

  EPILOGUE 1 Doctor Maniac Captured

  EPILOGUE 2 Meanwhile, on a Parallel Earth

  About the Author

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  The Hesitant Hero Series

  SOME KIND OF

  HERO

  S.J. Delos

  © 2017 S.J. Delos

  Cover art © 2017 by Rachel Bostwick

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons living, dead, undead, or trapped in an alternate dimension are purely coincidental.

  Also by S.J. Delos

  THE HESITANT HERO SERIES

  So Not a Hero

  Some Kind of Hero

  Just Like a Hero (TBD)

  This book is dedicated to my sons, Connor and Cameron.

  I will always be your dad, but you two will always be my heroes.

  Dream big and believe in yourselves.

  CHAPTER 1:

  SIX MONTHS A HERO

  Just as the sun was breaking over the horizon, signaling the end of another dull evening of keeping watch over the city, something in the distance exploded.

  The whole evening—hell, the last several evenings to be honest—were mind-numbingly uneventful. No super-villains hatching nefarious schemes. No city-threatening disasters to avert. Not even so much as a treed cat in need of rescuing. Nada. The most exciting moment had been hearing a car alarm going off. Of course, when I arrived on the scene it was revealed to be an operator error on the part of the new owner.

  After six months of working on the right side of the law, I discovered the most dangerous thing a hero could face wasn’t a mad scientist with a death ray and a complete lack of respect for their fellow citizens.

  It was boredom.

  I spun around as the sound of the explosion reached me, staring as a black and orange fireball blossomed on the other side of the city. Less than a heartbeat later, the communications device in my ear clicked as the line went active.

  “Kayo,” said an overly excited voice. “What was that?”

  Joseph “Joey” Gordon, aka Zip, was the newest member of Charlotte’s superhero team: The Good Guys. Like me, he had dabbled in using his abilities for criminal gain, mostly petty theft. However, when I saw the potential hero within him, I convinced Mister Manpower and Captain Awesome to give him a chance to prove it to the rest of the world.

  “Something going on over near the train depot, Zip. I’m heading over to see what it was.”

  “I’m out near the Lake Norman area. Need me to come help?” There was no mistaking the hope in the teen’s voice. He might have only been a Good Guy for a month, but he threw himself into the role a hundred-and-ten percent. I just hoped the little speedster had taken my advice to cut back on the energy drinks. Otherwise, he would probably blast right past the train depot, the city, and half the state before he even realized it.

  Enhanced hyper-kinetic locomotion and caffeine were a volatile mix.

  “Negative. Hang back. If I need you, I’ll yell.” I thrust my arms out in front of me, rocketing toward the thick column of smoke rising into the morning air. The city below rushed at me, the buildings resuming their normal three-dimensional appearance as I dropped two-thousand feet. Then I zoomed to the west. Despite the fact that I was rushing toward an unknown, possibly dangerous situation, I couldn’t stop the smile that formed on my face.

  I loved being able to fly.

  Sure, being able to throw a main battle tank across a football field was pretty cool. I couldn’t look down on the ability to shrug off heavy artillery fire or run at around a hundred miles an hour. However, neither of those held a candle to flying.

  My brother, Tomiko, and I used to imagine what it would be like to have superpowers. As kids, we would pin towel capes to our shirts, running run around the backyard pretending to come to rescue the helpless while defeating the bad guys. Just like our favorite hero, Major Freedom.

  When I Activated near the end of my senior year, I was extremely disappointed that flight wasn’t one of the Enhancements. Instead, I got super speed, incredible strength, along with the indestructibility of my dreams. Unfortunately for the newly changed girl I was, the genes for flight weren’t in my DNA. It was one of the team turning traitor to give me the only superpower I envied.

  I left the center of the city behind and leaned sideways, circling around to approach the scene from the south. The thick trees along my new course would hopefully hide my approach, allowing me to remain unseen until the situation could be assessed. The explosion could easily be the result of some accident, but if an Enhanced criminal was responsible, I wanted the element of surprise on my side.

  I descended further, until I was barely skimming above the branches, and swooped around a pale green water tower standing over one of the clearings, brushing closely past one of the four durasteel legs. The outer fence of the train yard was a quarter mile or so up ahead. Just as I reached it, a powerful roar, full of frustrating rage, split the silent dawn.

  A second later, it was followed by the teeth-aching shriek of metal being violently ripped apart. I stopped, hovering about twenty feet above the ground, as the remains of half of a cargo carrier arced into the air. The red-painted box tumbled end over end, dented door banging against the side, coming down with a deafening crash on the other side of the fence.

  Okay then. I was going to have to assume that this wasn’t some accident.

  I clicked open my comm., contacting headquarters. “Phantasm?” I asked. “You awake?”

  “Affirmative,” came the response. Alexis was both my teammate and best friend. “I was just about to call you. There’s a situation at the depot.”

  “Yeah, I’m there now. Whoever it is just tossed a rail car nearly a country mile. I’m going to go have a chat with them.”

  “Roger that,” she said. “Do I need to call in the BiBs?”

  BiB. Boys in Black. That was Alexis’ little term of endearment for the Enhanced Abilities Police Force. The EAPF. They were the federal agency who handed the legal system s
ide of apprehending criminals with super powers. Black uniforms were an EAPF agent’s standard attire.

  “That would be awesome. Thanks, Lexi-chan,” I said, using the pet name I bestowed on her soon after our first meeting.

  “You got it. Good luck, Kayo.”

  “Thanks.” I flew on, crossing over the twenty-foot razor-wire topped fence, surveying the scene before me.

  The train yard was made of up three sections. The passenger terminal, with the main lines in and out of the city, was the furthest away from my position. Which meant the likelihood of InBees, or Innocent Bystanders, was minimal. Trying to take down a bad guy while keeping civilians from getting hurt was always a difficult situation.

  Branching off the main lines were four additional sets of rails. One pair led to a sort of large roundhouse area where empty cars and idle locomotives stood ready to be placed into service. The remaining set of tracks curved around to the place where haulers of various sizes were held until their cargo could be inspected and cleared for departure.

  I spotted the other half of the flying car lying on its side in the gravel a few dozen feet away. The jagged edges gleamed menacingly and several busted crates were scattered on the ground around it. My initial impression was of someone breaking open a train-shaped piñata before becoming displeased with the candy inside.

  I watched from my spot in the air as a mountain of a man, dressed in a white tank top and arctic-patterned fatigues, stepped into view from around the side of another car. He was easily over seven feet tall, with canary yellow Mohawk running down the center of an otherwise clean-shaven head set upon a body that seemed to be made out of muscles piled on top of muscles.

  It was muscle all the way down.

  His overly-bulky build, coupled with the way he stomped around the yard, reminded me a lot of Colonel Tank. Of course, for all I knew, he could have very well been Tank’s son. The thought of that familial relationship didn’t thrill me in the least, considering my history of winning altercations with the good Colonel was about fifty-fifty.

  The wannabe Mr. T’s upper lip was pulled back into a sneer, making him even less attractive. His gigantic hands, each one easily larger than my head, grabbed the door on the front of another car. The muscles in his arms flexed, ripping it open with an echoing crunch. As easily as if tearing open a pack of ketchup. He leaned inside the opening, shoved the contents inside around, tossing a few of the crates out after giving the labels on them a cursory glance.

  This wasn’t just random destruction. This guy was searching for something specific.

  I drifted around behind him, landing softly on top of a dark gray fuel tanker. Planting my hands on my hips, I cleared my throat as loudly as I could and put on my disappointed face. The one I used on Alexis when she suggested we go see the romantic comedy instead of the action-adventure blockbuster.

  “Don’t you think it’s a little early in the morning to be tearing up the place?” I asked. “I mean, most of the city hasn’t even finished that first cup of coffee yet.”

  He whirled around much faster than someone his size should have been able to manage. As he stared up at me. the sneer on his ugly mug formed a momentary “O” of surprise. Then a hard glare formed in his beady little eyes.

  “Crushette,” he said.

  I sighed in response to the unwanted recognition. Apparently, the Incredible Bulk wasn’t up on current events. Crushette went away the day the EAPF arrested me.

  “Actually, it’s Kayo now. I’m with the Good Guys.”

  He continued to stare at me before nodding. “Oh yeah. I think I heard something about that.” His massive shoulders shrugged. “Well, get lost, little hero,” he said. “I got things to do.”

  “I agree,” I said with a smile. “Like … go to jail. If you’re lucky, you can still make it to the Max in time for breakfast. The scrambled eggs are usually not that bad. But I do not recommend the French toast.” Two years of prison food had given me insight into what was decent enough to eat versus what should be avoided at all costs.

  His sneer turned into a malicious smile full of dingy, misshapen teeth. It was the kind of mouth that made me think that the muscled oaf was not well acquainted with the importance of flossing. He placed the fist of one hand in the palm of the other, squeezing it tightly. The cracking of his knuckles echoed around the train yard like rapid-fire gunshots.

  “I got a news flash for you, Kayo,” he said, still grinning. “I ain’t going to the Max. Not this morning, not any morning. Besides, it’s gonna take more than one little girl to bring me in. Now, beat it before I decide that you’ll look better with your head twisted around backward.”

  I blinked before rolling my eyes. I doubted he could follow through on his threat considering the unexpected power boost, in addition to the ability to fly, granted me increased toughness. These days, my invulnerability was a Class Six.

  “What’s your name?” I asked. “I’m only asking because I’m going to need it to give to the booking officer. You know, since you’ll probably be out cold when I deliver you to the Shack. So, it’s probably best you go ahead and tell it to me now.”

  He thrust out his chest, flexing those thinly covered, over-endowed pectorals. “You can call me King Mammoth, the Nigh-Unstoppable Force,” he said loudly. There was no mistaking the pride in his voice.

  King Mammoth, the Nigh-Unstoppable Force? Seriously? I swear, some people really should not be allowed to make up their own code names

  I shook my head. “Yeah, sorry. That doesn’t work for me. How about I call you something else?” I tapped a finger against my lips in mock contemplation. “How about... let’s see... Rupert?”

  A confused look appeared on his face. I guessed it was probably one of his more regular expressions. “Rupert?” he asked.

  “Yes. Rupert,” I said with a nod of my head. “See, there are all these reports we heroes have to file every time we knock in the head of idiots like you. And, to be honest, the thought of having to write out ‘King Mammoth, the Nigh-Unstoppable Force’ thirty or forty times makes me want to cry.” I smiled, pointing at him. “Ergo, I dub thee ‘Rupert’. Hell, if you want, I’ll even add ‘the Moronic’ to it in a few places.”

  The sneer returned, as he stepped toward the tanker on which I was standing.

  “Very funny, bitch,” he spat. “Let’s see how funny you are in the morgue.” He turned, grabbing the ladder attached to the side of the boxcar behind him. His bulging arms flexed. Then he spun back around, pulling hard on the metal in his hands. “Catch this, hero!” he yelled.

  I suppose he meant to throw the whole car at me. However, my new playmate didn’t seem to really understand material physics. Of course, based on our brief exchange, I doubted he really understood much about anything beyond hitting or swearing.

  The ladder tore free from its mooring and shot across the space between us. I smacked it away with a casual backhand, reveling in the stunned look on his face. He glanced from me to his hands, to the side of the cargo car, trying to discern what just happened.

  I shook my head, an amused smirk running rampant across my lips. “So, Rupert, when you were crowned Dumbest Criminal in America, did you get a sash and tiara as well?”

  He growled up at me, and rushed forward, swinging one leg forward in a kick that slammed against the side of the tanker. The heavy car jumped thirty feet into the air.

  I took to the air just as the metal tube left the ground. However, rather than fly out of its way, I dropped down under it. The fuel car completed its rotating ascension before coming back down. Grabbing the structural supports running just above the wheels, I drifted to the ground.

  My boots crunched on the gravel as I landed with the car hoisted over my head. The expected fight against inertia of sloshing liquid inside never happened, the tanker feeling much lighter than it should. I lowered and raised it twice to confirm my suspicions that it was empty before setting it down behind me.

  “Hey, Rupert,” I said as I turn
ed around to face the muscled lummox. “Why don’t we just—” I left my sentence half-finished as one of those dinner plate hands grabbed me around the neck.

  Rupert yanked me off my feet. He brought around an uppercut with his other arm, connecting with the middle of my stomach. It was like getting hit in the gut with a wrecking ball … swung by Colossal.

  My invulnerability always kept me from getting seriously hurt. For the most part. Fire can’t burn me, knives can’t cut me, and explosions don’t do much more than ruin my clothes. Since the day my powers Activated, I’ve been spared from feeling severe damage as anything stronger than a twinge of pain. Or the equivalent of a mild sunburn.

  Of course, there is a hell of a difference between indestructible and immovable.

  In the comics, Superman can get hit by a speeding truck without having moved so much as a hair out of place. It’s dramatic, inspiring, and looks really awesome in print, just as a Man of Steel should be portrayed.

  However, I am not Superman. Or even Supergirl.

  Rupert’s fist connected with my mid-section, the blow sending me flying backward across the train yard. I punched through the chain-link security fence as if it weren’t even there before I landed on my back a hundred feet past the yard’s perimeter. Momentum caused me to tumble ass over teakettle until I slammed into the trunk of a huge oak.

  Luckily, the only thing injured was my pride.

  “Well,” I groaned as I grabbed a nearby branch to pull myself back to my feet. “That’s what I get for not paying attention.”

  “Kayo? You okay?”

  Apparently, my little trip had activated the comm unit. “I’m fine, Zip. Peachy, in fact. Just having a minor disagreement with a bruiser. Stand by.”

  I gritted my teeth, balled my hands into tight little fists, and launched myself back into the air. I wasn’t a fan of being smacked around by guys with more muscles than brains. Something I fully intended to let Rupert know. The hard way.

  He was waiting in the same spot, stance wide, arms ready for a fight. I was more than happy to oblige.