Satisfaction Guaranteed

by Samantha M. Derr

  "Oh my god," Alice says, her voice shaking. "What the hell just happened?"

  Marco winces; she has a vice-like grip on his arm. "K2?" he calls hesitantly. This is in the running for the strangest day of his life, no question.

  K2 looks over his shoulder at them. With a start, he zips right over, leaving blue sparkles in his wake. "Are you all right, Miss? You were in that prison for a few minutes."

  "Fine," Alice says, looking K2 up and down. "What, um, what about you?"

  K2 shrugs off the concern. "He concentrated the power of his shields into brute force. I wasn't expecting it. Are you okay, Marco?"

  "Yeah." Marco frowns, furrowing his brow. "How do you know my name?"

  The bravado is gone again. K2 stares blankly for a moment before lifting a hesitant finger. "Well," he dithers, "um, you're still wearing your orange vest."

  The name-tag. Right. Marco resists the urge to smack his face. "Sorry. So, what, I smack the man with a purse and he has it out for me?"

  K2 bites the corner of his lower lip. "Hm. Seems like a day for petty grievances. Negs must have spotted you because of the vest."

  Alice whacks his arm. "I told you to leave it at work."

  Marco makes a face at her. This doesn't explain a couple of other things, though. "And how'd you get here so fast?" he asks K2, staring right into the eyeholes of the cowl. K2 makes them glow a faint blue, probably to help his disguise. "Are you following me, too?"

  "Marco," Alice hisses.

  K2 raises his hands in surrender. "Ah, no. I'm not—I wasn't… following you. I was patrolling."

  Alice shoves him. "Marco, seriously. Ungrateful much?"

  Marco sighs tiredly. "Look, I'm sorry. This has been a really weird day." He offers his hand. "No hard feelings? Thanks again for the save, K2."

  K2 accepts the hand with a faint smile. "Not a problem. Be careful on your way home." He nods at Marco. "Might want to leave the vest at Sellmart from now on."

  "Yeah," Marco says as K2 soars off like a comet. "Yeah, right."

  For a long minute, Marco and Alice remain rooted to the ground, stunned. Finally, Alice squeals with delight. "That… was… amazing!"

  Marco chokes. "How was that even remotely amazing? What is wrong with you?"

  "Ugh," Alice says with a sneer. "Wasted on you."

  *~*~*

  Marco decides to lay low on Sunday, having tempted fate enough. His apartment is a box with a bed, fridge, and dresser sharing space with his sofa, television, and video game consoles. It isn't much, but it's safe and sound. He stuffs his face with leftover Chinese food and flat soda. By the time Monday rolls around, his life gets even worse.

  "You can't be serious," he says, almost dropping his phone.

  "I'm sorry, Marco. There's nothing we can do. The repairs can't wait, and we can't risk anyone else getting hurt."

  Marco swallows hard. "But I can't—I can't wait until Friday. I thought we could still work while the repairs were being done."

  "Unfortunately, it's too risky. We're working with the construction company to move things forward as fast as we can. We'll let you know if there are new developments."

  Marco feels hollow. "Okay," he says tonelessly. One whole week. "Thanks, Gloria." He drops the call, and then dumps his phone on the counter.

  He flops onto his unmade bed and tries not to cry. A whole week without pay. Even if he managed to land another job, he still wouldn't get paid in time to make his rent.

  His phone buzzes again, vibrating on the counter. It's probably Alice, having just gotten her own call. Marco can't even bring himself to get up. He runs through his options—parents, sob stories at banks, increasing his already burgeoning credit card debt.

  "I'm fucked," he mumbles into his pillow. Even if Garrison gave Marco some slack for two weeks, he'd still be fucked, trapped in a permanent loop of being two weeks short on rent. The only solution is for a career to hit him in the face or to find another job.

  "Working sixteen hours a day isn't so bad," he tells himself. "I'm sure eventually I would get used to it."

  His phone buzzes again. He can hear Alice's insistence in the vibrations. Marco groans into his sheets before rolling out of bed to answer it.

  "I can't talk now. I'm busy lamenting my entire life up to this point."

  "Right? How can they do this to us?" Alice sounds like Marco feels, broken and defeated.

  "Because they're assholes," Marco says.

  "And I didn't finish my paper."

  "Priorities," Marco says. "Wait, you probably have a little nest egg for yourself for a rainy day."

  Alice sighs. "I do, but it's to get a jump on the next semester, not to pay my rent because my employer is a dick. Thanks for nothing, Sellmart."

  Marco flops back onto his bed. "I'm sure they feel just awful about it."

  They lapse into silence. There is really nothing that can be said at this point. Finally Alice asks, "What are you going to do?"

  Marco rubs his face. "I don't know. Look for another job, I guess."

  "Shit, Marco."

  "Right?" He drops the call and groans again. Most job applications are done online these days, but a few gems can still be found unadvertised. Marco still has a couple of CVs hanging around somewhere.

  With a heavy sigh, he sits up and eyes his dresser. Maybe he has something presentable to wear in there. No time like the present.

  *~*~*

  Four hours later, Marco feels like the lowest form of life on earth. Job-hunting: the most humbling, degrading activity there is. The people who don't refuse him outright either tell him to come back next season or promise to keep his name should anything come up.

  "God," he mutters, weaving his way through the streets of downtown. "How could no department store need another retail clerk?" He's wearing gray slacks and a cream sweater-vest pulled over an indigo shirt. He's freshly shaved and his hair is styled. Still, no one appears to notice him.

  No one needs a dishwasher, or a fry cook, or a barista. It's a lean market for employment. Marco fights the urge to scream out his frustration. He's officially doomed.

  And then the Holidaze he's standing outside of explodes, and he is nearly literally doomed.

  Marco screams along with everyone else when the windows blow out of the high-end department store. Once the shattering glass is over, the blare of the alarm fills the streets. Pedestrians scatter, yelling for help. Marco dives behind a trashcan. He brushes bits of glass out of his hair.

  "Oh my god," he says, watching the mayhem unfold. "What could possibly go wrong now?"

  He should take off. He should follow everyone else and get the hell out of here. Something makes him hesitate. Whether it's curiosity or a concussion, something makes Marco peek around the can. He immediately wishes he hadn't.

  "Get it all in the truck!" Tempo Crescendo commands. Negative Space appears from behind him, hauling piles of tills encased in one of his forcefields. "First the money, then the jewelry. And some shoes for Slashia. She likes those bootie things."

  "She also likes jewelry," Slashia says, leaping onto the open windowsill. She is sporting a diamond necklace that glitters in the sun. Marco doesn't know much about jewelry, but he figures it's about nine thousand carats.

  "Where the hell is Avalanche?" Tempo demands.

  At this point, Marco realizes that they aren't speaking much louder to accommodate the ringing alarm system, but Marco can still hear them quite clearly. This is when it occurs to him that he is way too close to the action. Naturally, he has this epiphany as soon as Slashia spots him.

  "Heeeeey, Orange!" she calls, mouth spreading wide into a wicked grin. "Fancy meeting you here."

  Marco's heart finds itself in his throat. "How is this my life?" Someone grabs him from behind, making him yelp.

  "Not to worry," Negative Space says, hooking his arms under Marco's armpits. "It won't be yours much longer."

  Negative Space lifts Marco into the air, making him kick. Unperturbed, Negs carries Marco
over to the blown windows. Slashia laughs. "Well, isn't this funny?"

  "Not really," Marco says.

  Slashia looks him up and down. "You clean up good without the orange vest." She leans closer. "Any chance you've seen Avalanche around here?"

  Marco tries to edge away, but Negs holds him firm. "Uh, no. I'm actually job-hunting?"

  She looks inordinately pleased. "I'll just bet you are."

  "Right. And, well, I don't have anything to do with this. So if you want to maybe let me go, I'll just go put my CV somewhere else and not bother you anymore."

  Negs squeezes him tighter and leans in close. "You're bothering me," he says into Marco's ear. "Your face is bothering me."

  Marco tries leaning away. His patience is wearing thin, though, so he can't help but snark back. "I'll try hard to feel bad about that. Guys," he says to the others, "have you noticed that your buddy here is a little unhinged?"

  Tempo smirks at Marco's discomfort. "That's why we like him. You, on the other hand…" He reaches out with one finger, drawing an X across Marco's heart. "You, we don't like."

  Marco struggles, fear prickling the edges of his bravado. He's about to scream himself hoarse when familiar blue-white energy bursts start crashing onto the scene. Tempo curses. Negative Space snarls something unintelligible, turning around so Marco is shielding him.

  "That's far enough, Sparkles," Slashia says. Her scimitar hisses through the air before its point comes level with Marco's cheek. "Make a move and the Latin Lover gets it."

  K2 stays where he is hovering, surrounded by an aura of blue light. Even from the ground, Marco can tell he looks angry. "Hiding behind civilians? Is it amateur hour?"

  "Where the hell is Avalanche?" Slashia demands. "I put all of this mayhem together to ask her out and she keeps ignoring me."

  K2 folds his arms and cocks his head, considering her. "Ava says you aren't her type. She prefers her dates with fewer blemishes on their criminal record."

  Don't taunt her, Marco pleads. Not while she has a sword in my face.

  "So she's not coming?"

  K2 shakes his head very deliberately. "I'm afraid you aren't even on her radar."

  Slashia growls, low and dangerously. The next thing Marco knows, she has him by the shirtfront and is hurling him through the air. He barely registers the wind against his face due to the shock—just as he barely realizes that the solid wall he crashes into is K2.

  "Whoa!" K2 sounds as surprised as Marco feels. He stops Marco's descent by hooking one arm around his back and the other under his knees. "Are you okay?"

  "Oh my god," Marco sighs, burying his face in the arm that's awkwardly squished against K2's chest. "Could this day get any worse?"

  K2 clears his throat. "Um."

  Marco looks down at the smoking Holidaze. Fire trucks and police cars have finally responded, pulling up one after the other. There's no sign of the Guild of Chaos. Civilians have started to slink back onto the scene, forming a thick ring of curiosity around the building.

  "Hey! Hey, hero-person!"

  Marco scans the ground until he sees the waving woman with a microphone. Her cameraman is filming, which means Marco Reyes is now on the local news. Great.

  "Your press awaits," he says to K2. "Let me down before you go see them, huh?"

  "Yeah," K2 mumbles—and there it is again, that slip in his voice. It goes from Everyman American to something Marco can't place.

  K2 lowers them gently to the ground. Marco exhales in relief once his feet are once again on solid ground. "Thanks, K2. Again."

  K2 studies Marco for a moment. It's hard to tell if he's emoting behind the mask. "You sure have bad luck."

  "Don't remind me. This day sucked hard enough without Negs trying to off me again." Marco pauses, going slack-jawed once he realizes what he's said. "Goddamn it. I called him 'Negs.' This is happening so often that I had to use his nickname."

  K2 lifts his hands in a calming gesture. "Just relax. Take a second to compose yourself, and I'll be right back."

  Marco nods absently, still staring into space. How can this possibly be happening to him? What did he do to deserve the last few days? Across the street, he sees K2 giving a short interview—he catches the "light, flight, and might" catchphrase—and finds his mouth quirking into a humorless smile as K2 talks with his hands, making grandiose gestures.

  "Excuse me, sir."

  Marco jumps when a microphone is shoved under his nose. "W-what—?"

  It's another reporter, this one from Action News. "How did it feel to be rescued by this relative newcomer to Marrowport?"

  As much as Marco wants to scream in the man's face, he schools his expression into one of tranquility. "No comment," he sneers through gritted teeth, and pushes past the cameraman to head home.

  He moves through a fog of surreal depression. Around him, the world seems to rush by. Traffic is being diverted, people are running for Ground Zero to get a picture, and Marco weaves through it all. He's a whole block away from the action when K2 appears in front of him.

  "Marco!"

  It brings him up short with a start. "Whoa, dude." He lifts a hand, forestalling any further movement. "I'm not exactly feeling the sudden appearances right now. You understand, right?"

  K2 has the grace to look contrite, dropping to the ground. He toes the crack in the sidewalk with one boot. "Sorry."

  Marco feels eyes on him. He doesn't have to look to know that they have an audience—probably all armed with smartphones and tablets. "Everyone is staring at us."

  K2 deflates even further. "I know, I just didn't want you to walk home alone." When Marco stares at him, K2 stammers, "N-not, I didn't mean—Marco, they've attacked you three times in as many days. Do you blame me for wanting to make sure you get home safe?"

  Marco thinks back to Saturday night, when Negative Space had ambushed him on the way back from Moondollars. He stifles a sigh. "You could be right. So, uh, can you give me a lift?"

  "Sure." K2 smiles as he comes closer. "You want me to armpit you, or bridal?"

  Marco makes a face. "I can't just ride on your shoulders or something?"

  "Afraid not; it's not good for my balance."

  "Bridal, then. Armpitting doesn't even sound remotely comfortable."

  *~*~*

  It's not far from downtown to Marco's apartment, but he gets to see Marrowport in a whole new light. He does live in a beautiful city—something he doesn't appreciate often enough. He can see ships in the harbor, the ocean glistening in the sun. He picks out structures in the skyline: the water main, the Basilica, the Spires, and the Centerpoint Hotel.

  When they reach Marco's building, K2 surprises him by flying right up to his open window. "Now that's service," he says, hopping down into the room. "Thanks for the ride, K2."

  "No problem."

  They stay that way for a few awkward moments, K2 hovering outside his window. Marco scratches the back of his head. "Uh, can I offer you a drink?"

  The ghost of a smile flickers across K2's mouth. "I'd like that." He climbs in while Marco moves to his fridge.

  "Don't expect much. I'm your average poor twenty-something." Marco sticks his head in to inspect the contents. "I've got milk, peach juice, flat soda, and beer."

  "Make it a beer."

  Marco grabs two bottles, smacking the caps off on the side of the counter before handing one over. "Cheers."

  K2 clinks his bottle against Marco's and takes a sip. "So you live alone?"

  "Yeah." Marco leans against the counter. "It's not much, but it's close to work. Not sure I'll be able to stay, though."

  "No?" K2 frowns, twisting the bottle in his hand. "Why not?"

  Marco doesn't know why he spills everything to a stranger. Maybe it's because he needs to talk to someone. Maybe it's because he's had one of the worst days in his life. Maybe it's because he's tired of always unloading on Alice. Whatever the reason, Marco finds himself telling the whole story to K2, who listens with an increasingly grave expression.
r />   When he's finished, his beer is empty and he feels drained. With a sigh, Marco slams the bottle on the counter. "So, that's that. I can't ask my parents, because that's a whole mess on its own. I'm screwed even if I can find another job in four days."

  "Where are you going to go?"

  Marco waves a dismissive hand. "Wherever they let in delinquent renters, I guess. Maybe Alice and her roommates would put me up for a while."

  K2 stares at the floor. "How can your company do this to all of you?"

  "It's an omnipotent department store." Marco offers a sad smile. "It can do whatever it wants."

  "But that's—"

  "Hey, enough. I'm sick of talking about it. It's bad enough I have to live it." Marco pulls himself up to sit on the counter. He pushes his hot plate and toaster aside to make more room. The surrealism of the situation suddenly hits him like a freight train: he is drinking beer with a superhero in his messy box of an apartment. "Wow."

  "Hm?"

  "Just the absurdity of all this," Marco laughs. "What about you, K2? Anything you need to get off your chest? This is clearly a sharing zone tonight."

  K2 smiles, and starts twisting his bottle again. "I'm new in town. Avalanche's shoes are hard to fill."

  "I believe that. Marrowport is a super-villain's candy store. We've got a huge water purification plant, a power plant, a massive shopping district… there's no shortage of trouble to get into."

  "Don't remind me," K2 mumbles.

  "What did happen to Avalanche?" At K2's look, Marco raises his hands defensively. "I'm not trying to pry, but my friend is a huge fan of hers."

  "And you?" K2 asks, cocking his head. "Are you a huge fan of hers?"

  Marco considers him for a moment. "Not really. I think she's awesome, of course. But she hasn't saved me three times in a row."

  K2 ducks his head, and the action makes Marco widen his eyes. It's almost cute. "I don't know where she is. She asked me to step in for her while she took care of some issues back home. I'm just trying to keep it together for her until she comes back." He starts rubbing his temples. "Honestly, though, I'm going to suggest she get a partner. This is too much for one person. Um—" He looks up sharply, and Marco gets the feeling he wasn't supposed to say that.