So Not a Hero Page 3

  I returned the gesture. “Doitashimashite.”

  Mister Manpower stepped beside me and smiled at the woman. “I’m glad you’re okay, ma’am.” Then he cut his eyes over to me. “Can I speak to you for a moment? Privately?”

  I sighed and followed him away from the destroyed bus stop. The sirens of local law enforcement grew closer and I wondered how long before the jet engines of an EAPF transport ship would be joining them. When we reached the burning wreck of the car, he turned around and looked me over.

  “Nice work back there. Not everyone gets the drop on someone like Nite-Star.”

  I shrugged. “No big deal. I figured he still hadn’t learned to use his powers without using his hands. I simply took advantage of it.”

  The hero nodded. “It was quick thinking on your part. Plus, you made sure that his attention remained focused on you and not the In-Bees.”

  In-Bee. Innocent Bystander. When an Enhanced battle happened, In-Bees were the ones who were likely to end up hurt. Or worse. Bad guys didn’t care about them and the good guys accepted them as a necessary liability.

  “Yeah. Well, I just didn’t think about it. I just … did.”

  “Exactly. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the Good Guys have an open slot in the team roster. I think you should consider joining.”

  I blinked at him for a solid five seconds before I burst out laughing. I had thought he was taking me aside to tell me that I was going to be hitching a ride with the unconscious quartet to The Shack on my way back to prison. Instead, he’d just suggested that I join his superhero team.

  He scratched the back of his head, arching a brow at me. "Did I say something funny? Or am I just missing the joke?"

  "No. I just ... I mean ... you just told me that I should join the Good Guys."

  "I did. Though I'm still not sure why that is particularly humorous."

  "Because, I'm Crushette." He stared at me silently. "I'm a convicted felon," I continued. Still no response from the hero. "I'm one of the bad guys," I insisted.

  "Oh? Is that why you just saved a three people, including one elderly lady, and helped me apprehend them?" He pointed at the pile of Brickwall Gang members across the street. "Because that was certainly not the handiwork of a self-professed villain. That was a hero in action. So why not use your abilities for good?"

  I opened my mouth. Closed it. Looked at Nite and his defeated cohorts. Turned back to the hero. Noticed the growing crowd of civilians gathering in the aftermath, pointing and waving and taking pictures with their phones. Then I shook my head, trying to dislodge the crazy thoughts Mister Manpower had just planted in my noggin. "I .... I really don't know. It’s just not me."

  “I think it is exactly you.” Manpower smiled and nodded.

  Me? A Good Guy? Why was I even considering such an insane notion? It was hard enough to get people to treat me as Karen Hashimoto, potential tenant and employee, rather than Crushette, former associate of Doctor Maniac. Being anonymous seemed to be the best way to accomplish that goal. I glanced around at the devastation that had resulted from our tussle with Nite and his pals. Did I really want to step back into the world of good versus bad? Right against wrong?

  The expression on Mister Manpower’s face was full of optimism and encouragement. He couldn’t possibly know how much I really wanted to just disappear and be left alone. His eyes seemed to say that he felt as if he’d found another ally, a kindred soul to help carry the torch of justice, truth, and all that nonsense.

  He didn’t see the college dropout ex-con who was currently unemployed, homeless, and in dire need of changing out of her ruined and barely-held-together clothes. He wanted to see the potential, not the reality.

  “Yeah. Well, I gotta go,” I said and turned away, walking back towards the busted-up remains of the bus stop. Just because the hero wasn’t planning on detaining me didn’t mean that the EAPF wouldn’t. Even if the worst that happened would be me spending a few hours explaining myself over and over to the guys as The Shack, it would be more than I needed right now.

  “Paulus Building. Two o’clock tomorrow.” Manpower called out. “I’ll make you an appointment.”

  I threw my hand in the air acknowledging that I’d heard him, but I didn’t stop walking. Fine, let him put my name on the list. Perhaps it would be funny to see that ‘Crushette’ was on the team’s schedule. I grabbed my stuff and overruled the nagging urge to look back at him.

  “See you tomorrow, Karen. Don’t be late.”

  My heart stopped for a beat or two and I slowly glanced over my shoulder. The smile on his face was easy to read, even from several yards away. I nearly stalked back to him so I could scream that I wanted to be left alone. That I didn’t want any part of his group’s crusade. But before anything could pass between my lips, an EAPF transport roared past overhead. The bus-sized hovership drifted gently down and came to rest in the middle of the street.

  I slipped the bag onto my shoulder and took off at a brisk walk away from the scene. It took every ounce of willpower not hasten my departure by breaking into a burst of super speed. Running away from the scene of a battle, especially using an Enhancement, would only make them give chase. Better to be mistaken for an In-Bee or even a common, un-Enhanced criminal.

  Once I’d turned a corner, I peeked back around the building and saw Manpower talking with three EAPF agents. He was probably telling them that Crushette had helped him defeat the Brickwall Gang. Not that he would be believed, of course.

  After all, we bad guys never change our evil ways.

  I left the scene of the fight and made my way to the lower rent part of Charlotte. Here on the other side of the tracks–literally–more buildings were boarded up and the multicolored graffiti became less about the Art and more about the designation of territory. I passed by more than one burnt-out vehicle missing everything except the seats and frame.

  This was the perfect place for a young, red-headed, half-Japanese girl to not be. If I wasn’t Enhanced, I’d have been more concerned with the threat of being mugged, raped, or killed. Possibly all three together. However, my only concern was finding a place to lay my head for the evening

  Three hours later, I was reaching the limit of my patience. I’d attempted to find crash space at three shelters, none of which was accepting any new visitor, even though it was just before noon. The last one had been one of those privately-funded places rich people supported in order to get praised by the media. And in addition to the handwritten sign on the door that said there was no space available, there was another notice above the door. A white rectangle of metal with two-foot high red lettering.

  No Enhanced Allowed.

  A big part of me wanted to march over to the front door, rip it off the hinges, find a spot for my stuff, and dare anyone to try to move me out. Of course, they’d probably just call the EAPF and I’d be spending my evening as a guest at The Shack. Right before they stamped ‘REVOKED’ on my parole file and shipped me back to prison. Definitely not worth the trouble just to make a point.

  I sighed and headed further into the more run-down part of the city. Here the gang signs were fewer and the vehicles abandoned beside the cracked sidewalk had long been stripped of anything of value. There was a factory at the end of the street, half of which had collapsed years ago into a jagged pile of brick, pipe, and rebar. The other half of the building seemed relatively intact and there were pieces of plywood tacked up over most of the missing windows.

  As I got nearer, a man and a woman came out of the side entrance, each with a couple of buckets in their hands. They walked away from me, towards the rusted fire hydrant on the corner. The man pulled a large wrench out of one of his pails and used it to open the valve on top. After a few seconds of heaving and grunting, the water finally began to flow out of the side. The woman quickly put a bucket beneath the stream.

  I approached them slowly. The last thing I wanted them to think was that I was going to attack them.
When the man finally realized I was there, I quickly held up my hands. “Not here for trouble. Just looking for a place to crash.” I jerked my thumb back at the factory. “Any room in there for little old me?”

  They looked at each other, sharing that silent transfer of information that comes from being with someone for a long time. Or maybe they were Enhanced and speaking telepathically. Either way, the woman finally turned and looked me up and down. With my ruined pants and dirty face, I probably looked destitute enough to be safe-ish.

  “You’ll have to ask Derek,” she said. “He’s the one in charge around here.” The man behind her nodded.

  “Derek?”

  “If he says you can stay with us, then you can.”

  “Fair enough.” I didn’t think I’d have much success getting that approval. Just the way these two deferred to this Derek person told me that I’d stumbled upon a close-knit homeless group. Strangers usually equaled danger to people like them. Once, when we were actively recruiting, it had taken Martin and I almost a year to earn the trust of a similar group. “Okay. Let’s see what Derek says.”

  We walked back to the warehouse, with me leading. No way were they going to turn their back on someone they didn’t know. The woman introduced herself as Natalie, and the man with her was her husband, Jeff. I waited outside while she went in to speak to this mysterious Derek. I sat down on a pile of rubble flowering out of the parking lot and rubbed at the back of my neck. Getting bashed around earlier had given me stiff shoulders. The man sat down on a stack of cinder blocks and looked at me warily.

  “You aren’t hurt, are you?” He said as he pointed at the tears in my pants. “We don’t have a lot in the way of supplies. Especially medical and such.”

  I smiled and shook my head. “I’m fine. Just dirty.”

  He nodded, visibly relaxing. “Well, we do have a shower of sorts.” He pointed at the buckets. “Just have to bring your own water.”

  The wooden board that served as a makeshift door opened and Natalie returned with a guy who looked to be anywhere from forty to sixty. His dark brown skin was lined with wrinkles and cracks and the shock of pure white hair that stuck out from beneath his cap twisted into fluffy curls. He nodded to the man and then looked at me, smile shifting into a neutral expression. The hackles at the nape of my neck stood up and I couldn’t quite place my finger on where I’d seen him before.

  The woman gestured in my direction. “She’s looking for a place to sleep for a day or so. Wants to stay with us.”

  I smiled and stuck out my hand. “Nice to meet you,” I said, keeping my voice as pleasant as possible. “I’m Karen.” He didn’t immediately reach out to respond to my greeting. Instead he looked me up and down a few times, as if trying to get a read on me. After my time with the horny boys at the bus stop, I was glad he wasn’t ogling.

  “I don’t appreciate trouble,” he said, taking a step back. “Or anyone looking to make any. Is that you, Karen?”His brown eyes sought out my own and held them in a grip. For a moment, I imagined he was seeing through the pupils into my core. Thankfully, there was no tell-tale feeling of my thoughts being probed. If he’d tried to go into my head without permission, he would have ended up in a world of hurt.

  “No sir. No trouble, believe me. I just want to have someplace to lay down and sleep without me or my stuff getting messed with.” I smiled and hoped I looked as desperate as I felt and as harmless as I knew I wasn’t. “Just for a day or two. Please?”

  “I see,” he said, keeping his eyes locked on me. I felt my underarms and neck starting to sweat under his judging gaze. I felt like I was back in high school and Mr. Danvers was giving me The Eye for misbehaving. Another couple of tense seconds passed and I right when I was about to just say ‘never mind’. He smiled. “I think we can find a dry spot for you to lay your head. Come on in.”

  My mouth dropped open in surprise at the sudden turn-around in demeanor. One second he’s reminding me of the worst teacher I ever had the misfortune of encountering, the next he’s acting like my long-lost grandfather. Dude was either crazy or sly as shit. Not that I gave a damn so long as I had crash space.

  I followed him into the building and down a short, narrow corridor to the center of the warehouse. Sunlight drifted in through the broken skylights and there were still several large wooden crates, busted open in multiple places, adorning the concrete floor. I counted seven cots and bedrolls spread out across the room. Close enough to each other for safety, but far enough away to provide some privacy.

  I made a show of turning around to look at everything without focusing on any one thing. I didn’t want it to seem as if I were canvassing the place. When I faced Derek again, I nodded. “Dry and safe. That’s all I need.”

  “It’s dry. Safe is open for interpretation.” When I gave him look, he shrugged. “Sometimes we get visitors in the middle of the night. Hoodlums just looking to mess with the homeless. Nothing too serious.” He looked me up and down again. “Of course, that might change if they know there’s a pretty young girl like yourself in here.”

  I glanced from Derek to Natalie and then to the eight other people standing around her. All of them appeared to be almost twice my age and showed signs of having been down on their luck for quite some time. There was a large splotch of graffiti on the far wall, faded from being soaked repeatedly by the downpours coming in from the broken windows above. I nodded at the symbols. “You having problems with some Twelve-Tenners?” I asked, referencing the group associated with that particular sign.

  He grinned a smile that had more teeth missing than present. “No. Twelve-Tens vanished a couple of years ago. Apparently one of them tried to jack Comrade Cosmos and the whole gang caught the backlash. Last I heard, the State was still trying to re-teach them how to eat solid food and walk again.” He shook his head. “No, that group wouldn’t bother us. At least they had enough respect to not kick someone when they’re down. Our issue is with the frat boys.”

  I blinked, not sure I’d heard correctly. “Frat boys? Is that some new gang? Or are you talking about actual college guys?”

  “College boys,” Derek said and a couple of the folks standing behind him nodded. “They like come down here a few nights a week and harass us. Sometimes they can get a little rough.” He gestured at a smaller man in a dirty fatigue jacket with a cast on one wrist. “Broke Jerry’s arm when he tried to get them to leave last time.”

  “Laughed when they did it, too.” Natalie added.

  Derek shrugged. “I guess it makes them feel like big men.” He frowned, looking at me again. “They’re usually drunk or high when they roll up on us. I’m a little afraid that they might do more than just harass you. If you stay, we might not be able to protect you from them.”

  “You mean they might try to have other kinds of fun with me?” I asked. Derek responded with a single nod. “Are they Enhanced?”

  Derek shook his head. “I don’t think so. The only special ability they’ve shown is being gigantic assholes.” He winked and that uneasy familiarity crept back into my mind again.

  “In that case,” I said, “too bad for them.” I took a few steps to the left and grabbed the top of a three-inch steel drainpipe rising out of the concrete floor. Without even a grunt, I crushed the metal cylinder and bent it at a ninety-degree angle.

  The collective group looked at the mangled pipe, to me, then to Derek. The old man laughed and shook his head. “Well, that changes things, doesn’t it?” He pointed at one of the cleaner sections of the warehouse. “You can bunk over there, little missy. There’s a crate to hold your stuff and part of a wall you can use for privacy. The toilet’s over on the other side of the building and there’s a shower. It’ll be cold and you have to bring your own water, but it’s better than trucking a mile to the Y.”

  “Thanks.” I returned their smiles and slipped the satchel off my shoulder as I headed over to my new, and hopefully temporary, home. After I unpacked my ripped blanket and added a quilt to create a b
ed, I gathered up three buckets of water from the hydrant down the street and washed the grime of the battle—and the remains of my parole officer’s pleasure—from my body. Once I was cleaner than I was, I dried off as best as I could and put on some undamaged clothing.

  I asked Derek for directions and left the warehouse to walk five blocks to the nearest convenience store. Inside, the pathetic remnants of my last paycheck bought a dozen cans of ravioli, four jars of peanut butter, a loaf of bread, and a case of orange juice in little plastic bottles.

  While the cashier, safe behind dura-steel bars surrounding an omni-plex booth, was ringing up my purchases, two punks burst through the door wearing sunglasses and bandanas, waving pistols. Before either could announce that a robbery was about to take place, I’d punched out both of them and bent their guns into useless scraps of metal. The guy working the register looked over the counter at the unconscious robbers and gave me a fifty percent discount. I tossed him a hurried nod of appreciation and left before the police could arrive.

  Back at the warehouse, I dumped the purchases on a table made out of a slab of plywood and an empty oil drum. “Dinner is served.”

  The rest of the group approached cautiously and Derek looked at the haul and then to me. “You didn’t need to do this, Karen. We didn’t expect you to pay for a place to sleep.”

  I waved my hand dismissively and put on a little scowl. I knew from experience that it was one thing for people like this to ask for charity. It was completely different to have it forced upon them. “I was hungry. I just bought more than I had planned and the guy behind the register wouldn’t give me a refund.” I shrugged and grabbed one of the raviolis and a juice. “So I figured it made more sense to share it with you people than throw it out.”

  The others looked from the food to Derek. He was staring at me with an expression that was part amusement and part suspicion. It was the same stare he’d given me earlier before deciding to let me in. After a second or two, he turned to them and nodded. They dove in, everyone eager to get something but no one pushing or taking from another. I watched them for a few moments and then noticed Derek giving me a little smirk. I turned around quickly, stalking back to my own private corner.