We Could Be Heroes

by Harmon Cooper

  The red-haired teen could very well still be alive.

  Then again…

  “Is it something I said?” Ozella asked, her hands coming to her mouth.

  “No, you’re right, we need to see how reliable my power is. So a thrift store could work. I’m sure we’ll come up with other ways to hone my ability. I can’t guarantee I will learn scientific terminology, but I can pick up some things. Actually…” Sam paused for a moment. “I sensed something today while I was on the train. There was this teen with red hair, and I sensed she was going to die.”

  Ozella gasped. “You sensed she was going to die? How?”

  “That part I don’t know. It was just something that I felt, I don’t know how to explain it other than that. And I didn’t get enough details.” Sam shrugged. “Anyway, what’s done is done. You said you had three questions, right?”

  “My next question involves where you’re going right now,” Ozella cleared her throat, “and if I can come with you.”

  ***

  The teleporter appeared before Sam and Ozella.

  He was a middle-aged man with black glasses in the approved Centralian teleportation service outfit, the only thing different about what he wore versus the hundreds of other teleporters that Sam had seen were his shoes.

  It was when a sparkling blue sky appeared around the man, first starting in a halo and then moving like a rainbow down his body that Sam understood the man wore the shoes as a fashion statement, that they matched the color of his power.

  The swath of light blue came toward them, at odds with the darkened sky above, stars twinkling, the moon hardly visible. It moved around them like a cocoon, and soon they were teleported to Central Park, the man bidding them farewell and leaving in another wash of blue.

  “That was a cool one,” Sam said.

  Ozella simply nodded, her hands coming behind her back. “Do you know what you’re looking for? It’s a pretty big park.”

  “I really don’t know,” Sam said as he turned to the public garden. “But at least we have some privacy now. It’s pretty quiet this time of night.”

  The H-Anon group had done a pretty good job of cleaning up most of the debris, but Sam hadn’t had a chance to give the place another walk, especially because Bill wanted to give another one of his damn pep talks at the end.

  Goddammit, was Sam sick of pep talks.

  It seemed like all non-exemplars did was give each other pep talks and pat themselves on the back, always this false sense of hope that things were gonna be better for them, when in actuality, they were seriously marginalized because of their half-powered nature.

  And now that he was one of them, a person with an actual superpower, Sam really wished he had the platform to do something about this marginalization.

  It could start in Centralia; it was the only place in their world that this kind of movement could take place, and if he wasn’t mistaken…

  Sam took out the vial he’d found and looked down at it.

  Whoever had made this, and Sam was pretty sure he knew who the man was, he had created something that activated a non-exemplar’s dormant ability.

  The details were fuzzy, but he knew that the man who once held the vial had been chased by his own creation, his creation being a person who had morphed into an incredibly dangerous creature.

  The man had used whatever was in this vial to enhance his own ability, which…

  Sam took another sniff of the vial, holding it open to his nostril for a moment, focusing everything he had on interpreting what he smelled.

  His head started to spin a little, and Sam had to bring the vial away, his senses firing out of control.

  “Stay back,” he told Ozella, pinching his nose. “It’s maybe too strong right now…”

  “Are you all right?” Ozella asked.

  “Just give me a second,” Sam told her, taking deep breaths in through his mouth now.

  The park was dark, but there were portions that were lit, and there was enough light for Ozella to make a few notes in her notebook, which she did as she observed Sam.

  He suddenly keeled over, his knees on the ground, sucking in deep breaths through his mouth as he kept his nose pinched, the small vial in his free hand.

  “I’m going to do it,” he said.

  “Please be careful,” Ozella said.

  As carefully as possible, he unpinched his nose and brought the vial up again, jamming it inside his nostril this time, his eyes shut as he focused even harder on what was playing out in his mind’s eye.

  He saw a home that doubled as a laboratory, a man with silvery blond hair and a white lab coat.

  Dr. Hamza Grumio.

  “We have to go to him,” Sam said, dropping the vial in his pocket.

  “Who?” Ozella asked.

  “Sorry, I should have explained more. We were here earlier, Helena and I, and there was some destruction that we were volunteering to clean up as part of an assignment through the Heroes Anonymous group. I found this vial, picked up some info from it but was unable to figure out more. I’ll get to the point: I think the man that had it was almost there.”

  “What you mean by almost there?” Ozella said, approaching him cautiously.

  “He’s close to creating a cure for non-exemplars, Dr. Hamza Grumio is his name.”

  “A cure?”

  “Yes, a cure for non-exemplars. We have to go to him,” Sam said. “Sounds crazy, I know, but…”

  “I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” Ozella said, backing away.

  “It is totally a bad idea. The man has a dark side, but he’s the one…” Sam closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his mouth. “We need to go meet him; we need to go meet him now.”

  Chapter Twenty: Mia and the Beast

  (A tale as old as time…)

  “Dear Mia, can you hear me?” Dr. Hamza asked.

  The beast morpher with her scaly metal skin, wings, and razor-sharp teeth was in a large cage, her hands cuffed above her head, a chain connecting her cuffs to the ceiling.

  Every time Mia moved, the chains smacked against the cage, the sound ricocheting through the room and into Dr. Hamza’s lab. There was one point where he’d thought she might break free, but it hadn’t happened yet, which gave him the time he needed to work with one of his serum recipes.

  Dr. Hamza’s senses were no longer heightened, the serum that he had snorted having lost its effects an hour ago while he was busy mixing up chemicals.

  Which was good for him. It was easier to work this way.

  Mia came alive, her teeth gnashing as she tried to kick her legs forward, her clawed feet hooking on to the cage, the terrible monster trying to pull herself free but ultimately failing.

  “I really should have gotten something for your legs,” Dr. Hamza said under his breath. “No matter. I’ll be sure to put something on next time you’re out. Mia, I could have left you back there, I really could have, but I definitely didn’t need Centralian police finding you. But aside from that, congratulations. You may prove helpful in what we’re trying to do here. After all, you continue to be my muse, the key to my discoveries.”

  Dr. Hamza knew that she wasn’t fully cognizant in her beast form, but she knew enough to know that she wanted to kill him, evident in the anger in her eyes and the way she kept gnashing her teeth at him.

  “But I need to talk to the real Mia,” he said, “and see how she’s feeling. So let’s see what this does.”

  She cried out again and he ignored her.

  “I’m going to pump something into the room here for a moment, and we’ll see if it brings you back to normal form. Now remember, Dear Mia, all this is for science; I have no ill feelings toward you, but I was being truthful when I said that I was going broke. Damn, nothing like going broke, huh? I will say, however, with my new serums, money should be coming in soon.”

  Dr. Hamza took a silver mask from the wall and strapped it on his face. Once the mask was secure, he pressed a button on the side of the mask
, a hissing sound letting him know that it was ready to go.

  After cracking his knuckles, Dr. Hamza walked to the left of the door and made sure that a hose that he’d attached to a vent was securely fastened. Once he was sure, he moved to his laboratory proper, shutting the door behind him and waiting for it to seal as he checked that the neuro-tranquilizer had been properly hooked up.

  Once he confirmed everything was in place, he pulled a lever, pumping the tranquilizer into the room.

  He heard some struggling for a moment, but eventually, he heard the slapping sound of Mia hitting the cage, out cold.

  “Good, good,” he said as he returned to the room a few minutes later, still masked.

  Sure enough, she had started to morph back, her tall, athletic form showing under her metallic skin, breasts exposed, her stomach moving up and down as she gasped for air.

  This was a curious thing to him; he’d assumed the neuro-tranquilizer would eventually cause her to revert her back to normal, but was surprised that it happened so quickly. Last time they tried something of the sort, it had taken a good forty-five minutes to knock her out.

  Now it seemed instant.

  But that was something that he could think about later. For now, Dr. Hamza needed to see if she could change forms voluntarily this time, without the serum.

  This was the transformation that Dr. Hamza really wanted, an actual transformation, from non-exemplar to exemplar and back again. And while he had others who liked his serum, and a few who even paid his crazy ass for it, it was Mia who was addicted, which was why he’d decided to hit her with such a high dosage.

  Mia opened her eyes, tears coming to her eyes as she looked at Dr. Hamza, who still wore his mask. “Where am I?” she whimpered.

  “Mia, I would never let you die. You took too much, my dear, too much, and now…” He swallowed hard. “I had to save you from yourself. But now I’ve brought you back. I need you, Mia.”

  “Why am I chained up?” she asked, looking up at her hands. They were clever cuffs, ones that adjusted their size based on the wrists within them. This would allow them to grow as she changed back to a scaly metal monster, and to shrink once she returned to her human form.

  “I decided to make you my experiment,” he told her firmly. “For science, for future Centralians. You will pay the ultimate price, Mia, but I will do my best to bring you out of this alive, as an actual exemplar, none of this hybrid stuff. You will change the world, dear.”

  Mia began to struggle.

  “No, no struggling, Mia,” Dr. Hamza said as he approached her cage. “Just think of all the people you’re going to help.”

  A gob of spit hit his face, and Dr. Hamza grinned, wiping it away. “You always were feisty, weren’t you?” he asked her.

  “You can’t do this, you can’t just imprison me!”

  “Yes I can, and don’t bother trying to send out any telepathic messages or calling for a teleporter, those things won’t work in this room.”

  “Why?” Mia asked, her eyes clenched shut as she attempted to contact someone, realizing that it was impossible.

  “It seems cruel now, but because of rules and regulations in Centralia, I’m not able to test my serums fully, not without proper licenses and years of paperwork. But all that changes if I have a willing subject such as yourself. It’s what everyone wants, to be themselves, but usually they have to become someone else to make that happen. Funny how that works, right, Mia?”

  “You’re just going to keep me… caged?” she asked, her blue hair falling in her face.

  “No, not forever, my dear, I just wanted to say goodbye to you before I did this,” he said, taking a syringe from the pocket of his lab coat. He removed the plastic top, and made sure it was ready to go.

  “What’s that?”

  “I am really glad you asked. It’s something I believe I have finally perfected. It’s kind of a, hmmm… How should I describe it? Let’s just call it a mind control serum. But if you must know, it’s a combination of sanigrupium and polymorchance yellow, not that that matters to you.”

  “I don’t want it!” she screamed, kicking against the cage.

  “I know you don’t, but just remember all the good that you’re going to be doing for others.” Dr. Hamza reached into his other pocket for the keys to the cage.

  And in that moment, Mia’s arms began to tense, her skin morphing as metal scales appeared, as her claws sharpened, her lips tearing back, teeth springing out of her jaw.

  “I see,” Dr. Hamza said, a feeling of elation coming to him as he watched her completely transform.

  She had done so voluntarily, without his medicine, a breakthrough if there ever was one.

  He turned to the door, and set his syringe on a metal table at the back of the room. He was going to need to pump more of the neuro-tranquilizer into the space, forcing her to change back into her human form.

  Dr. Hamza wasn’t excited about doing this part, mostly because of the cost. The neuro-tranquilizer was expensive, and he didn’t have as much as he’d like, but it was for science, and having Mia under his control was worth it.

  “Hold tight for a moment, dear Mia,” he said as he left the room, the monster screeching, rattling the cage again. “It’ll only be a second now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Getting the Drop

  (No, you didn’t miss chapter twenty-one, I’m just boycotting chapter twenty-one at the moment.)

  Zoe Goa Ramone didn’t have to wait very long before she saw some movement in the alley.

  Her hood was still on her head, the tiger ears pointing up, and she still wore the metal claws she had picked up at the bodega. They were clever devices that extended from her wrists to her fingers via a series of complicated metal bars which made up part of a pulley system.

  If she flinched in a quick backward motion, the claws extended, which made it so she could draw them quickly.

  She had cut herself with them before getting used to the mechanics, back when she’d first purchased a pair, but now she had it down, the claws providing little delay to whatever attack she planned to take.

  To keep herself familiar with having the claws on, she trained with wrist weights when she did calisthenics at the gym. She was the only one with wrist weights that she ever saw there, but this didn’t bother Zoe, and people who saw her body immediately assumed she knew what she was doing. Which was exactly what the black-haired wannabe beast morpher woman wanted, the weird acceptance that comes with being good-looking.

  She tested her claws again, silently as possible, waiting for a breeze to pick up and rattle a discarded paper bag to give her some cover.

  There were three thugs below her now, just arrived via teleporter.

  The men had a large crate with them, and Zoe wished she actually had a heightened sense of hearing, as she would be if she were a real beast morpher, because she’d probably be able to discern what was inside the crate too.

  Alas, she was a non-exemplar, but one who knew how to kick ass, and she definitely was planning to take out these three fuckboys.

  Her only concern was that one might be an exemplar, which would definitely complicate things. This was why Zoe had to strike fast, why she planned to use her surroundings to her advantage, keeping to the shadows.

  After keying in a code, a garage door opened and the three men gathered around the crate, ready to lift it inside.

  Her breaths becoming deeper now as she prepared to pounce, Zoe wondered why they didn’t just teleport inside wherever they were going, a thought that fluttered away once she saw a slight gleam of metal from inside the space, meaning there could be a special alloy that was teleporter proof.

  She still hoped to use the shadows, but with all three men engaged with lifting the crate, now was the perfect opportunity to strike.

  With a short exhale, Zoe leaped from the fire escape, landing directly on the crate, and immediately swiping her foot into one of the men’s faces as they dropped the crate to the ground, utterly startled.


  The goon she’d kicked stumbled backward and hit the ground, struggling to get back up from such a sudden strike.

  Even though her knees hurt from the landing, Zoe flung herself forward onto one of the other men, who was now in the process of aiming his wrist guard at her.

  She landed on him before he could fire off a shot, her claws digging into his face, her pointer fingers going deep into his eye sockets, the man crying out as she blinded him.

  She was up in a matter of seconds, focusing on the final man standing as she dipped into the shadows and narrowly avoided a blast of purple energy.

  From what she could tell, the final thug wasn’t an exemplar; most exemplars would use their superpower rather than a random wrist weapon, which gave Zoe an edge.

  It had been Zoe’s neighbor who had first trained her how to fight.

  Her neighbor had been an older guy who had cut his teeth at the various fight bars around Centralia in his youth.

  The government had tried to shut the fight bars down several times, ultimately giving up on this endeavor.

  Fighting kept people distracted, it kept them out at night spending money, and according to a couple of studies, it allowed Centralians to get aggression out that they wouldn’t normally get out had there not been an avenue for combat.

  And Zoe’s neighbor had been a champion at some point too, someone who had once almost toppled a strongman, an actual exemplar.

  Zoe knew all his stories by the end, maybe some of them exaggerated, but powerful nonetheless. And from him she learned that the best way to fight was to fight as if your opponent was trying to kill you, even if it was just a simple brawl. There was never mercy in a battle, not a real fight anyway, or so her instructor said.

  Which was why she’d gone straight for the second guy’s eyes, the same man who was now on the ground, bleeding out, scrambling around, trying to get his bearings.

  She needed him knocked out; she didn’t want a teleporter coming or law enforcement being alerted, even though the second option was probably not a possibility considering whatever it was they were transporting.