So Not a Hero Page 11

  I nodded slightly. “I get you,” I said settling back further into the chair. “You always had a way of cutting right through the bullshit, you know?”

  He snapped his fingers and waved them in the air. “Of course I know. That’s what makes me Roland the Great.” He winked and grabbed a padded stool from beside the worktable and sat down next to me. “So, Miss Ex-Crushette,” he said. “How may I make you happy?”

  “Rewind the clock seven years and keep me from Activating?”

  Roland laughed and adjusted a dial on the side of the chair, making the massage rollers pressure increase and a little happy sigh climb out of my mouth. “Even if I could do that,” he said, “I wouldn’t. Being what you are, all of it, is what makes you you.” He crossed his arms over his chest. I could see the bottom edge of an Airborne tat peeking from the sleeve of his shirt. “So, is this going to be a whine session? Because, honestly girl, I’d expected more.”

  I drew in a breath, held it while I pushed my temper aside, and released it with a sigh. “No, no whining today. I need you to work a miracle on my hair. I’m starting a new job this afternoon.”

  Both of his eyebrows slid up as he rolled the chair away from me to the workstation. “A new job? Does that mean that you’re standing by your promise to keep away from Martin?”

  I nodded. “He’s the last person I want to deal with right now. Things between us are one hundred percent o-v-e-r.” At least, that was what I hoped.

  Roland opened a metal kit and withdrew a pair of gleaming scissors with an edge that seemed to slice the ambient light into its component colors. Atomic Blades. Despite their name, the blades were devoid of any radiological properties. Instead, the monomolecular thick edge would cut through the sheath of invulnerability encasing each strand of hair as if it didn’t exist.

  The invention of Atomic Blades was a godsend to Enhanced such as myself. Without them, my hair would be down past my ass and I didn’t want to imagine how my legs and armpits would look.

  Roland rolled back to me and twirled the implement around one finger. “I hope you’re right. But when it comes to you, that man can’t see or think straight.” His hand opened and closed, grabbing the scissors in mid-twirl. “So, who’s the new boss? Shadow Lord? Or maybe Nite-Star?”

  I grinned. “Nite’s currently hanging in the Max. Helped put him there myself.” I sighed and turned my gaze to the ceiling. “Actually, I’m going to be working the other side of the street.”

  His mouth dropped open and, for a second, I realized that I had rendered Roland the Great speechless. Then he managed to recover and gave me a sly grin. “Hero, huh? The Good Guys?” When my smile widened a bit, he nodded. “Heard they were looking for a replacement for Gigantica. Sounds to me like they picked someone good.”

  I closed my eyes. “We’ll see how good it turns out to be. Right now, I’m nervous as shit about it. Mainly because I hurt a lot of people as Crushette. Now I’m going to be asking them to trust me.”

  He nodded. “And what do you need from me?”

  “Magic, Roland.” I said with a grin. “I need your magic to make me look like a hero. That way, if I get booed or say something stupid, at least I’ll be pretty. You’re the only one I trust to do this.”

  He leaned closer and lowered the chair a bit more. “Well then, you just lie back and think happy thoughts, darling. Because Roland is going to weave you a look that’s gonna scream ‘hero’.” His fingers slid through my hair and then pulled taut. I heard the sound of the twin blades as they closed around the hair and sliced clean through. “By the time I’m through, you’re going to look a whole new you. I promise.”

  Roland went to work; snipping, combing, and occasionally taking a moment to study his progress. Meanwhile, I spilled everything. I told him about the tribulation of putting my life back together and the miserable failure that had been. I regaled him with the battle with Nite-Star and the offer by Mister Manpower. I confessed that I was worried that I’d gone too far into the dark to come back to the light. Through it all, he never stopped working.

  When I ran out of things to complain about, he turned off the massage rollers and pulled the cover free. “Okay, you know how this works.” He said, leaning over me. “You come for a cut and style and get advice as a bonus. So, here it is; be the hero. You were never really comfortable with what you and the Doc were doing.” I opened my mouth and he held up his hand. “No, you weren’t,” he said and gave me a look to keep quiet and listen. “You were completely head over heels for the man, not his ideology or his schemes. The only, and I mean only, reason you did what you did was because of love.” He tapped my chest above my left breast. “You were never a villain here. Your decision to turn yourself in when you discovered your situation had changed only proves my point.” He rolled the chair away and stood up, lifting a lever on the side of my seat. “And now,” he said with a grin, “let’s see Charlotte’s newest hero.”

  I looked from Roland to the mirror. When I’d gone into the Max, my red hair had been just past shoulder-length. Since my release, I’d not had the money, nor the time, to get it cut and it’d grown down to the middle of my back. Roland had taken most of it away, leaving me with a cute chin-length bob that curled underneath and framed my face perfectly.

  I stared at the girl in the mirror. She looked older than the one I’d seen this morning in the bathroom. Not so much in age, as in maturity. She looked like someone who could be trusted to keep the citizens of the city, and its suburbs, safe. “I love it,” I said as I looked back to Roland.

  He smiled and gave me a little clap. “I’m glad. I was worried that you might think it too short, but then I remembered that I’m a perfect genius when it comes to hair. Plus, this way it’ll be harder for anyone to grab it. Remember the time with Colonel Tank?”

  I nodded and shuddered at the memory of having the brute use my ponytail as a handle to slam me repeatedly into the side of an armored car like a piñata stick. When he’d finally broken it open, he’d then used it to twirl me around and throw me several blocks away.

  I turned left and right, admiring the way the ends swayed back and forth. I had to admit, I looked adorable. Grinning, I gave Roland a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Roland. For everything, but especially for your advice with … before.” I gave him a slight nod which he returned.

  “That’s what friends are for,” he said.

  I was riding high on my way back to the tower, a stark contrast to how I’d felt on my way to Roland’s. The uneasiness in my stomach had vanished, although it had been replaced by genuine hunger. I took a detour along the way with the intention of grabbing a bite at a new pita place that had recently opened downtown.

  I heard a scream before the sound of something big breaking echoed down the street towards me. I stopped in mid-step and listened. A few seconds later, another loud crash sounded and more screams joined the first. There was trouble ahead and it didn’t sound like something that was going to blow over on its own.

  Two days ago, I would have probably just walked in the other direction. Or, at the very least, swung by just out of idle curiosity. However, I was a hero now, or was supposed to be. It wouldn’t go over very well if I shirked my duty on my first real day. I sighed and broke into a non-powered jog up the street and around the corner.

  There was a giant robot tearing into the front of City Hall.

  I stopped running and looked around, making sure I didn’t see any cameras or famous actors about. No Jess Wherdon or Raphael DiGorno in sight. Which meant the chances of it being a film set were pretty much zip.

  The robot lifted one arm and slammed it against the front of the municipal building again, shattering one of the ornate columns. When it turned slightly to step on the rubble, I realized that I could see the silhouette of someone sitting in the chest area. It wasn’t a robot; it was an armored mecha. Not exactly something you see every day.

  “Hey,” I yelled as I took a step closer. “I’m afraid I�
�m going to have to insist that you stop that.” Wow, way to go Karen. Could you have been anymore lame?

  The mecha turned to face me, clawed feet tearing into the asphalt of the street. The change in angle allowed me to see the driver in the cockpit more clearly. His eyes narrowed on me and when he moved his arms upwards, the arms of the machine followed suit. The nasty looking cannons resting on top of the dura-steel limbs tracked in my direction.

  After Roland’s stress reducing session, I really didn’t want to get into a super-powered throw-down with a Macross wannabe. I set my bag down on the sidewalk and slowly approached the mecha. I managed to get within thirty feet when the arms twitched and I heard the resounding thunk of a target lock being engaged.

  “Look,” I said, holding up a hand. “I get it. You’re pissed and have a burning need to take it out on someone. So why not City Hall, right?” I cut my eyes to the sides, gauging the speed at which the In-Bees were getting themselves elsewhere. Most had either vanished behind closed doors or moved dozens of yards down the street. Little chance for them to wind up as collateral damage. I put my attention back on the pilot and shrugged. “This isn’t the way to deal with your problem.”

  “What the hell would you know about it?” The speaker beneath the chassis boomed.

  “You’re right,” I said. “I don’t know anything about you other than you’ve probably had a bad day. Right? What happened? Get fired from your job? Find out your have a terminal disease? Discover your wife was cheating on – ”

  One of the arm cannons roared and what felt like a bowling ball slammed into my chest, sending me flying into the side of a brand new Lexus and right on through it to a sliding stop on the other side. The impact crumpled in the driver’s door and set off the alarm. Looks like I was right about the source of this dude’s anger. I shook my head to clear it and looked down at the hunk of smoldering metal sitting in my lap.

  A tank shell? Who the hell builds an armored mecha and decides to use 120 mm rounds instead of plasma cannons? No wonder this guy’s wife decided to give the loving to someone else. Idiocy was not an aphrodisiac. I pushed myself to my feet and gripped the deformed shell in my hand, sinking my fingers into it. “I wasn’t finished talking, asshole.”

  Even from across the street, I could see the look of surprise on his face that his attack hadn’t put me down permanently. Obviously new in town. He yanked on the levers and the mecha turned to aim its other cannon.

  I took a step forward and snapped my arm forward in a sideways throw, hurling the scrap metal back at him. It struck one of the mechanical legs right in the knee joint and destroyed the limb’s ability to function. I grinned slightly as I watched the pilot punch buttons like a madman. But nothing he did could keep the vehicle upright. It fell over onto its side, pinning the second cannon beneath its weight.

  I walked over to the twitching machinery with quickly paced steps, reaching it just as the jerk decided to take a shot with the still-functioning cannon. As soon as the muzzle swung in my direction, I reached up and grabbed the edges of the barrel and crushed them together. Then I looked over at the pilot hanging in his seat and smiled. We both knew that if he pulled the trigger now, the blockage would send the blowback into his face.

  He released the controls and screamed, pounding his fists on the console in front of him. I shook my head and looked around at the damage our little meeting had caused. The masonry on the front of City Hall was cracked and broken, but that had been done before I got involved. The Lexus I’d been knocked into was pretty much a total loss. Hopefully the owner had insurance that covered Acts of Heroes. Several citizens had dared to return to the scene and were snapping pictures of the fallen mecha. Others were tapping on their phones at a furious pace, all trying to be the first to break the story on social media.

  The whine of the EAPF transport lifters yanked me from my thoughts. I glanced up at the descending vehicle and almost took off running. Old habits were harder to break than I’d assumed. Instead of fleeing, I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for the authorities to take over.

  When the transport touched down, a half dozen agents in reinforced body armor poured out of the side door. Two of them began erecting force field generators around the scene while another pair ordered the onlookers back a good distance from the ruined mecha. The remaining two were using a cutting torch to break into the cockpit.

  I walked back to my bag and picked it up.

  A grey sedan pulled up beside me and the siren barked at me twice. The door opened and a deliciously handsome man climbed out and stood beside the vehicle. He was dressed in a dark blue suit with a red tie and had a Detective’s badge clipped to his belt. He looked around the scene of the crime and then turned his gaze to me and pointed a finger.

  “Wait right there,” he said as he closed the door and started walking away. “I want to have a word with you.”

  I sighed and sat down on the sidewalk. If I got detained by the EAPF for breaking my parole – even if I was doing my job – Greg was going to be unhappy. The officer spoke to the two agents putting up the barrier and then walked over to the two still trying to get to the pilot. After a few moments, the one holding the torch looked at the detective and shook his head. I sighed again, this time as I stood back up. At this rate, I would never make it back in time for the press conference. I walked over to the mecha, holding my hands up when one of the agent’s hands went to his sidearm.

  “Please, allow me.” I said. Then I grabbed the side of the cockpit and ripped it loose, revealing the criminal surprise inside. I set the top down and brushed off my hands. “There you go.”

  The four agents looked at me warily and then to the detective.

  He pointed at the man in the machine and then to the transport craft. “Take this piece of crap to The Shack and book him on multiple counts of enhanced terrorism, property damage, resisting arrest, and making a big-ass mess.” The uniformed officers saluted and then hauled the perp out of the cockpit and carried him towards the open door of the transport.

  The detective turned back to me and held out his hand. The smile he flashed in my direction made my knees weak and my chest feel way too tight. I also wondered what he thought about my new haircut, but then realized that he didn’t have a before image for comparison. “Kurt Braddock,” he said as that dazzling grin widened. “Thank you for your assistance, Miss Hashimoto.”

  I held onto his hand and blinked a couple of times before settling into a simple clueless stare. After a couple of heartbeats, my language center rebooted and I was capable of speech again. “You know who I am?” I let go of his grip and instantly missed the touch.

  He nodded, giving me a wink that made my toes tingle. “Yes. Mister Manpower is always keeping the department informed of any new powered-criminal threats.”

  “Oh,” I said as the pleasant tingle faded and a lump of melancholy settled in my stomach. I looked down at the cracked sidewalk and wondered why I couldn’t have invisibility or teleportation as an extra power. “Well, I am currently on – ”

  Detective Braddock interrupted my explanation. “He also lets us know when there are new heroes operating in the city. As I said, thank you for your help.”

  Hero? Mister Manpower actually called the police and told them I was a hero now? I’d only been accepted as a probationary member of the Good Guys yesterday. “When?”

  “When what?” He asked.

  I looked over at the transport and then back to those light blue eyes. “When did Mister Manpower tell you I was a … hero?” Just saying the word out loud to a member of the EAPF made my tongue feel funny.

  The detective closed one eye and looked up at the sky with the other. “Let’s see. It was two days ago, when he brought in the Brickwall Gang for processing. He said that the former villain Crushette had given him a hand and that you were going to be doing the hero thing from now on.”

  Two days ago? I hadn’t even made a decision about joining at that time. I’d still been wrestling
with my limited choices about where I was going to sleep. Had Greg known then I was going to accept his offer? Or was it some wishful thinking on his part that just happened to come true? “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  He laughed softly and I realized that it wasn’t just a handsome face or nice body that was making me attracted to him. It was his personality as well. Friendly and understanding. He was an officer of the law casually talking to a girl as if she wasn’t a former supervillain. He wasn’t guarded or suspicious standing this close to someone of my reputation. He was judging me on what he’d heard from Mister Manpower and seen with his own eyes. So caught up was I in the unfamiliar revelation that I missed his next question. “I’m sorry?” I asked, hoping I didn’t come off as spacey.

  He tilted his head slightly to the side, regarding me with that easy grin. “I asked if you had a new name. Assuming, of course, that you won’t still go by Crushette.”

  I shook my head and then shrugged. “Haven’t really got around to that yet. Between getting settled in and designing a uniform, the code name sort of got overlooked.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll come up with something.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a card. “If you need anything, my number’s on the front.” He smiled that smile again and walked around to the driver’s side of the sedan. He opened the door and looked at me over the top of the car. “It was very nice meeting you, Miss Hashimoto.”

  “It’s Karen.” I returned his smile. “Nice meeting you as well, Detective Braddock,” I said and turned to walk away.

  “Call me Kurt”, he called after me. “Uh, Karen?”

  I turned back to him. “Yes?”

  His cheeks were a little pink. “You mentioned you had a uniform. You might want to wear it more often if there’s a chance you might find trouble.”

  I arched a brow at the odd suggestion and then nodded. “I’ll take that under consideration.”