The Temporary Hero

by Nick Svolos

  She wasn’t ready for me to turn the question around on her like that, but she was a pro and didn’t let it throw her off. “Was Ultiman involved in the decision? Is he still leading the team?”

  Ah, so this is where she was going. “He's still our leader, but I won’t comment on how decisions are made.”

  “Where has he been, then? He hasn't been seen—”

  “Recruiting. Since the team announced they’re looking to fill the slot left by Phoenix Fire’s murder, there have been a lot of candidates to review. It’s a full-time job.”

  “So, you’re saying he’s not leading the team.”

  “No, I’m not,” I countered. No way was I going to let her twist my words.

  “Well, if his focus is split between recruitment and leadership, how can he be said to be fully engaged in either?”

  “By being awesome.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “By being awesome,” I repeated. “It’s what he does.”

  “I don’t see how—”

  “Of course you don’t. But if you do a little research—like a fair reporter should—you will.” I took a step back, and floated a couple of feet into the air. “I hope you’ll forgive me if I cut this short, Ms. James. It’s getting late, and I have work to do.” I flew off as she threw another question at my back, but I was already far enough away that I couldn’t hear it. Of course, that didn’t make a difference. I wouldn’t have answered it anyway.

  ***

  I was hungry and tired. I needed a shower, some street clothes and sleep. Somewhere along the line, I’d need to figure out what to do about my appearance. Even through my borrowed ski mask, the night air chilled my scalp, reminding me I was as bald as Telly Savalas. Maybe Helen would be able to help. As a lifetime member of the Yul Brynner club, she’s got a hell of a wig collection, and she’s a wiz with hair dyes and a styling wand. I wondered if she’d still be up.

  It was probably sometime after midnight when I got back to the Tower. I didn’t know for sure. I’d learned early on not to wear something as fragile as a wristwatch when I went out superheroing. I set down on the roof, and after a quick wave at the biometric scanner, the elevator doors opened to take me down to our quarters.

  I thought of The Angels as a volunteer fire department, only with superpowers. We didn’t get paid to be on the team. Ultiman had a lot of rules, and that one was at the top. Our only compensation was room and board. Now, that room happened to be a luxurious private floor of our own at the downtown Los Angeles headquarters, and the board part of the deal was supplied by a round-the-clock galley with excellent food in all-you-can-eat quantities that could make Louie Anderson throw in the towel, so it wasn’t like taking a vow of poverty, but if we wanted to have lives outside the team, we needed a day job. It was a good thing. It kept us humble. Kept us connected to the community we served and protected.

  Ultiman had been around a long time. He knew what he was doing.

  A smooth female voice greeted me as I stepped into the elevator. “Welcome back, Captain Stand-In. Congratulations on your victory.”

  “Thanks, Archangel.” I pressed the button for the thirty-first floor. “My comm got busted during the fight. Any messages for me?”

  The Angel’s artificial intelligence replied, “Ultiman asked me to schedule a mission debrief with you.”

  Of course he did. The man’s nothing if not consistent. He wanted to go over the operation while it was still fresh in my mind. Well, he’d have to wait this time. He could point out all my mistakes after I had a good night’s sleep. “Tell him I’ll come by after breakfast tomorrow.”

  “Will do.”

  The elevator doors opened, and I stepped out into the darkened quarters I shared with Helen, a.k.a. Herculene. When I agreed to fill the open slot in their roster, the team offered me my own floor, but I turned it down. I couldn’t allow my membership on the team to be that permanent. Besides, it was more fun sharing quarters with her. We didn’t get to spend enough time together as it was.

  “Have a good night,” the AI quipped. Then, the lights came on.

  A half-dozen voices yelled, “Surprise!” Helen grabbed me, planted a kiss on my lips and a beer in my hand. A banner on the other side of the living room proclaimed “Captain Stand-In: 1 Bad Guys: 0”. The whole team was there, patting me on my back and drawing me into the room.

  “They grow up so fast,” Damon Craig sniffed, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.

  I couldn’t help but smile and let myself get pulled into their celebration of my first solo takedown. I realized I probably should have told them about Lompoc and Mechanista but didn’t have the heart to spoil their fun. It was kind of a big thing in their circle. Most of them had been doing the superhero thing since they were teenagers. That first victory was a milestone, like a coming-of-age thing. As a thirty-five-year old who had powers for all of eight months, it felt a little silly, but I could see their point. The training wheels were off. I’d proved myself. I’d mastered my abilities.

  Well, mostly. I still couldn’t hover without crossing my eyes.

  It turned out they had a drone in position above the warehouse, recording my battle with Backdraft as it happened. Naturally, we all had to sit down and watch it together, with them pausing the playback frequently to make jokes and tease me about the many mistakes I’d made, my hairless scalp, you name it. I geeked out a bit, recounting Peacemaker’s skill in taking down the henchmen. Helen took particular pride in my appropriation of her manhole-cover trick.

  The party lasted about an hour before breaking up so everyone could get home and get some sleep. None of us were teenagers anymore, and with the exception of those on duty, we all had weekend plans. Even superhumans gotta sleep.

  Helen smiled at me as the last of our guests left. “So, you crashing here tonight?”

  “Depends. Are you?”

  Her eyes twinkled with the sort of mischief that makes a man glad to be a man. “Maybe,” she giggled. “But only if you take a shower.”

  I smiled, grabbed her hand, and headed off for the rain locker.

  VI

  The Angels were on call all the time. There was no telling when their talents would be needed. It wasn’t like the bad guys scheduled things with us in advance. But, in practice, it wasn’t all that bad. During times of peace and quiet, I only pulled duty two nights a week. One night I’d be out on patrol and the other I’d work as a controller. The only exceptions were Three Dollar Bill and Suave, whose lack of travel abilities left them stuck in the briefing room on their duty nights, monitoring the county’s emergency communications network and alerting the patroller of any trouble spots.

  I pitied them. When the time came to give this up for good, the thing I would miss the most was soaring over the city, helping people out of bad situations. You couldn’t beat it. Tonight, I’d already broken up a robbery at a convenience store and helped the cops put an end to a high-speed chase without anyone getting hurt. It felt amazing.

  I checked the time and spoke into my communicator. “You got anything else for me? Thinkin’ about getting some chow.”

  “No, peace and freedom reigns once more. Bring it on in, amigo,” Suave replied in a professional tone, although he was probably as hungry as I was.

  I set my focus on the big, green, white-winged “A” on the Tower, and my flight path changed accordingly. I scanned the streets as they passed below me, waving at the occasional pedestrian who happened to look up at the right moment. They probably wouldn’t see me, shrouded against the night sky by my dark costume, but you never knew.

  I was a few blocks away from HQ and food when I noticed something I hadn’t seen before. Somebody had rigged up a spotlight of sorts to project a big barcode on the side of a darkened building.

  Well, that was a new one. Back when we created my costume, I had to pick out a symbol. According to Helen and Taaliah, that was a big deal. I thought it was silly, so I picked a barcode. I’d like to say I was making some pith
y statement on consumerism, but in truth, I chose it as a joke. Captain Stand-In, the generic, replaceable, hero.

  I flew a wide circle around the rooftop in question and, while I couldn’t make out any details through the glare, I saw a couple of guys standing there. It looked like they’d gone through a lot of trouble to get my attention, so I dropped down, landing on the roof a short distance away. “Can I help you fellas?”

  One of the men snapped the spotlight off and came around to where I could see him. He was wearing a dark suit and flashed a badge and ID. “Special Agent LaBlanc, FBI. Thanks for stopping, Captain. May we have a moment of your time?”

  The other guy stepped around the spotlight. This one wasn’t wearing a suit. He had a jet-black skinsuit that covered everything but his eyes. There was a gold badge embossed on his upper left breast. The sight set me on edge.

  He was with the ERD. I’m not a fan.

  “You guys ever hear of a telephone?”

  LaBlanc smiled. “I apologize for the theatrics. We’re hoping to keep our presence here under the radar.” He looked back at the spotlight. “To tell the truth, I didn’t think this stunt would work. Guess I owe you twenty bucks, Eighteen.” The ERD agent didn’t respond. He just stood there like a statue in a wide stance, arms crossed.

  The thing about the FBI’s Enhanced Response Division was that you never knew what they could do until they started doing it. It was actually a pretty good idea. They all wore those identical ninja suits so you couldn’t tell them apart. If I had to rumble with this guy, I’d be going in blind. That wasn’t a good situation to be in.

  I let my arms hang loosely at my sides and ignored him for the time being. “Alright, agent, you went to a lot of trouble getting me here. How can I help you?”

  LaBlanc pulled a notepad out of his pocket and flipped it open. “We just have a few questions. Would you come with us, please?”

  Cops. They always want to get you somewhere they control. Probably with a nice orange light to keep me from raising a fuss.

  Not tonight, pal. I was sure Suave was listening in over the communicator in my ear and already had a few cameras watching the scene. If the feds pulled anything, I’d have plenty of evidence to back my side of the story.

  “No. I kinda like this rooftop. It’s nice and quiet. You got questions, you can ask them here.”

  If LaBlanc had any issues with my refusal, he didn’t let it show. He had the calm demeanor of a normal who had dealt with superhumans enough that being in the presence of someone who could squash him like a bug didn’t phase him anymore. That was good. It gave us some common ground to build upon.

  “Very well. Friday night, you assisted the police in apprehending one David Winters, a.k.a. Backdraft. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.” Don’t give them anything more than they ask for. That’s another tip for you. Tell the truth, but don’t volunteer anything. It just gets you into trouble.

  LaBlanc nodded and made a mark in his notebook. “Can you explain your involvement? How did you know to be there at the scene?”

  “Captain Dawson of the LAPD requested Angel assistance through our switchboard. I drew the assignment.”

  “Do you know when the request was made?”

  “No,” I said, crossing my arms.

  “And you were acting under police supervision?”

  “Yes. I took my instructions from Dawson.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a little odd? Santa Fe Springs is out of his jurisdiction.”

  “My thoughts aren’t evidence, agent.”

  “You seem a little hostile, Captain. There’s no reason for that. This is just a routine follow-up.”

  I was getting a little irritated with the whole conversation and did my best to keep it out of my voice, but the hunger wasn’t helping. At the end of a patrol shift, the last place you wanted to find yourself was between me and a sack of groceries.

  “Considering the last time I saw one of these goons,” I said, indicating the ERD man, “he was at the Coliseum helping a supervillain murder my friends, I’d say I’m being remarkably civil.”

  “I wasn’t there.” The ERD agent’s eyes narrowed.

  “So you say. Still, the FBI doesn’t do ‘routine follow-ups’ on burglaries and arsons unless they cross state lines. Since we have a deficit of trust here, I hope you’ll excuse me if I wonder what you’re really after.”

  “It’s classified,” he said.

  “Of course it is.”

  “Do you know how Captain Dawson knew where Backdraft was going to be?”

  “He’s a detective, agent. I assume he did some policework.”

  “Of course he did. But to know exactly where to be? With enough advance knowledge to arrange a multi-departmental operation with superhuman support?”

  “His guys are good. Have you tried asking him? He doesn’t hang out on rooftops, but I’m pretty sure he has a phone.”

  “Yes, I’m sure. As I explained, we’re trying to keep our investigation quiet. I hope you understand.”

  Wow. They didn’t want the local cops to know they were working this case? What the hell was going on?

  “That doesn’t seem to be standard operating procedure, agent.”

  “It’s a classified investigation, Captain.”

  “So I’ve heard. Well, I don’t know how I can help you. Dawson asked for assistance, and we responded accordingly. We value our relationship with law enforcement.”

  “That sounds like one of your press releases.”

  “Ultiman makes us memorize ‘em.”

  “I see. Well, just one more question and I’ll let you go. Are you familiar with one Reuben Conway?”

  God, I hoped my poker face was holding. “Some kind of reporter, right? Keeps calling the switchboard, asking for an interview.”

  “Yes. Know anything else about him?”

  “Just that he’s the one who blew the lid off your scheme to get ahold of the cape-killer bullets. You know, back when you guys were working with Gale? Remember that?” He nodded. “Good. So do we. Will there be anything else, Agent LaBlanc?”

  He flipped his notebook closed. “No. We might have some questions later.”

  “If you do,” I said as I rose into the air, “pick up a phone. And leave your dog at home.”

  I left before he could reply. My top speed is only about ninety miles-per-hour, but I can hit it in less than a second. “Did you get all that?”

  Suave came on the comms. “Si. Ultiman is coming up now.”

  I cursed under my breath. If the old man was getting involved, this might turn into an all-nighter.

  He must have heard me. “Have no fear, my friend. I am having the galley send up sandwiches and coffee.”

  “Cool. Might wanna make it a double order.”

  ***

  By the time I made it to the Briefing Room, Ultiman was already there. He didn’t look up. I grabbed a few sandwiches, a coffee and a seat while he reviewed my conversation with the FBI.

  “You have a remarkable tendency to antagonize figures of authority, Mr. Conway,” he observed.

  “He shouldn’t have brought that ERD guy along.” I downed the first sandwich and started in on its brother. “Dude shoulda known better.”

  “Regardless, when you are out there, you represent the team. I would appreciate it if you did not let your personal feelings reflect badly on us.”

  Suave looked like he was ready to protest on my behalf, but I stopped him. Ultiman had spent most of his life in the military. To his way of thinking, the unit was everything.

  Besides, he was right. I had a tendency to pick fights with authority. I liked to tell myself it came with being a reporter, there was a distinct possibility I was just a jerk.

  “Sorry, boss. I’ll apologize to LaBlanc if I see him again.”

  “Thank you,” he said. He leaned back, the matter forgotten. “I find it interesting that they haven’t notified the local police.”

  “Indeed,” Suave agree
d. “Should we call Captain Dawson?”

  “No,” the old man shook his head. “Agent LaBlanc twice stated that his investigation is classified. If we were seen as divulging that information, we would be in violation of a variety of federal statutes.”

  I replayed the conversation in my head. “Think he’s trying to entrap us?”

  “Possibly.” Ultiman rolled the thought around in his head. “Thanks to you, it is public knowledge how we communicate and that said communications are recorded. It is not unreasonable to posit that their intention was to see what we did with this information.”

  “It doesn’t even have to go that far. Could be that he wanted to see what I did with it.”

  “How so?” Suave asked.

  “He never followed up on the Reuben Conway question. I think he suspects I’m the same guy and only asked that question to get a rise out of me.”

  “Oh, no need to wonder about that.” Ultiman shot me a grin. “He already knows.”

  “What?” Suave and I blurted in unison.

  “The FBI is very good at their jobs. They have a full dossier on all of us. They would never admit it, of course.”

  I cursed under my breath. “I’m beginning to wonder if there’s anyone in this town who doesn’t know who I am.”

  “It’s not as easy as it looks, eh, Captain Smartypants?” A cheerful voice laughed behind me. I turned to see Herculene smiling down at me. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, babe. I once had a reporter suss me out within two hours of meeting him. Didn’t work out too bad.” She gave me a quick smooch to emphasize her point.

  “I’m sure he was a gentleman of outstanding character and discretion.”

  She nodded happily. “That he is.”

  “How much did you hear?” Ultiman interrupted us. He’d already blanked the screen.

  “Just that last part. You boys keeping secrets?”

  “I am afraid so. We may have come across classified information. The fewer members of the team exposed to it, the better.”