Supergirl

by Jo Whittemore

  Maggie opened her arms wide. “Um . . . we still don’t.” She gestured to herself and James.

  “And what we don’t know is becoming dangerous,” he added, lifting one of his arms to reveal a tear in his suit sleeve.

  Winn gasped and leaped out of his chair. “What did you do to my masterpiece?” He rushed over to James, taking the sleeve in hand. In addition to being a mechanical genius, Winn prided himself on being an expert tailor. He’d crafted both Supergirl’s and Guardian’s costumes.

  “I didn’t do anything. Some old lady in the warehouse district clawed me. And I’m fine, thanks for asking,” said James, jerking his arm away.

  “Sorry. It’s just . . .” Winn shoved his hands in his pockets and muttered, “That material’s really hard to find.”

  “So we have another villain out there with spontaneous powers,” said Supergirl.

  “Actually, she thought I was the villain,” James corrected. “Even after I told her I was Guardian!”

  “Well, at least we’ve got one, uh—” J’onn fumbled for the word—“supercitizen on our side.”

  “Supercitizen. Nice.” Winn held his fist out to J’onn for a fist bump. J’onn just stared at it.

  “I mean, how did that lady not know Guardian?” James continued. “I’ve been saving lives since way before she jumped in the game.”

  “Well, a helpful supercitizen isn’t necessarily a good thing,” said Alex. “Especially if they’re taking the law into their own hands.”

  “Which is why I’m here.” Maggie handed her cell phone to Alex. It showed a man’s profile on the screen. “Some people saw this man bring down a purse snatcher by shooting poison darts from his fingers.”

  Winn snorted. “From his fingers? What’s he calling himself . . . Digits?”

  “He hasn’t given himself a name, but that’s not bad,” mused Maggie.

  Supergirl frowned. “I know it’s odd to care, but is the purse snatcher OK?”

  “He’s in critical condition,” said Maggie, “and this . . . Digits is still at large.”

  Alex studied the image for a moment and then looked at Winn. “Can you—”

  “Use traffic, ATM, and store cameras to find this guy with facial recognition software?” Winn finished for her. “Just send me the photo.”

  J’onn put a hand on Supergirl’s shoulder. “Winn, see if you can also get security footage from National City Museum and find this Bee Breather and Lady Levitation. I’d hate for them to cross paths with the woman who attacked James.”

  “Guardian,” James corrected.

  Winn was already halfway to his computer, a thumbs-up raised above his head.

  James turned to Supergirl. “Maybe we should run a piece at CatCo about up-and-coming superheroes.”

  She smirked at him. “Featuring anyone in particular? As much as I’d love to, I’m not allowed back in the office right now.”

  James raised an eyebrow. “Says who?”

  “I’m gonna guess Snapper Carr,” spoke up Alex. She pinched her little sister. “You didn’t try to speak his language.”

  Supergirl threw her hands up. “He wouldn’t let me! I have to get this interview with Mayor Lowell, but the mayor doesn’t want to talk to anyone from CatCo.” She looked at James. “I was hoping you could—”

  She was interrupted by a ringtone version of Newsies’ “Seize the Day” from James’s pocket.

  “Sorry,” he said, taking the phone out. He groaned when he saw the screen and answered the call. “Hey, Snapper.” James’s eyebrows rose. “Kara? Uh . . . yeah, she’s right here.” He handed Supergirl the phone, which she took with a mixture of trepidation and confusion.

  “Hey, Chief! How’d you know I’d be with James?” she asked.

  “I’m an investigative reporter,” Snapper said in a bored voice. “Tracking people down is half my job. Listen, everyone else is on assignment, and since I assume you’ve gotten nowhere with yours,” he said pointedly, “I need you to interview someone at Eighth and Palmer.”

  Supergirl blinked rapidly but didn’t say anything until James nudged her. “Uh . . . yes! Of course, Chief.” She reached for a notepad and pen. “Who’s at Eighth and Palmer?”

  Snapper sighed. “I was afraid you were going to ask. There’s a structure fire, and a woman—Jacqueline Reyes—is supposedly putting it out with rain clouds she created in her bare hands.”

  “She can create rain clouds with her bare hands?” Supergirl repeated loudly enough for her friends to hear.

  “I know, it sounds ridiculous,” Snapper said, misreading her tone, “but it seems Supergirl isn’t the only superhero in National City anymore.”

  “I’m on it.” Supergirl hung up and handed the phone back to James.

  “What’s this woman’s name?” asked Winn, fingers poised over his keyboard.

  “Jacqueline Reyes,” Supergirl supplied. “And if you’ll all excuse me, I have a city to . . . watch someone else save.” She cocked her head to one side. “Weird.”

  Supergirl zipped back to the museum to grab the clothes she’d left on the roof and then landed in an alley near the fire to change into Kara Danvers. She couldn’t risk being seen flying around in her work clothes, and she couldn’t appear as Supergirl because then she’d be expected to help put out the fire. All focus would be off Jacqueline Reyes, and Kara would lose the interview.

  Luckily, Kara’s powers gave her a speed boost, and she walked several blocks in a minute before a traffic light stopped her. While she waited for it to change, Kara searched social media for Jacqueline Reyes. There were several in the city, but none were known superheroes. She thought about the old lady who attacked James. It was pretty unlikely she was a superhero, either.

  That made five supercitizens. In one day.

  It can’t be a coincidence, she thought. How are they all tied together?

  The light turned green and Kara stepped off the curb, switching screens on her phone so she could text Alex. A second later, tires screeched and a horn blared in Kara’s ear. She turned to stare, wide-eyed, at the front grille of a delivery truck.

  On instinct, Kara crouched and braced herself, holding out both hands to stop the truck. It might give away her identity, but it was better than being roadkill.

  Before she even touched metal, however, another pair of hands—male, by the looks of them—reached the truck before hers could. The hood crumpled, and the truck’s tires shivered as it skidded to a stop.

  Kara let out a deep breath. “Perfect timing.”

  She put a hand on Mon-El’s and went to kiss him. Then she froze.

  The guy who’d stopped the truck wasn’t Mon-El.

  It was Marcus, the guy who worked the coffee bar at Noonan’s.

  4

  Marcus had his eyes closed and his lips puckered, ready to receive Kara’s kiss.

  She leaned away. “You have superpowers?”

  Marcus opened his eyes and grinned at her. “Pretty cool, right?” He squinted at Kara and snapped his fingers. “Wait a minute, I know you! Carka!”

  Kara didn’t bother to correct him. “When did you get superpowers? How did you get them?”

  Police sirens wailed nearby, and Marcus cringed.

  “Listen, I’m new to this superhero thing, but I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to be here when the cops show up. Gotta bolt.” Marcus started to run, but Kara chased after him.

  “Wait!” she said, grabbing his arm.

  Marcus spun around, all smiles. “OK, if it means that much to you.” Before Kara could react, he grabbed her waist and pulled her close, smashing his lips against hers.

  He tasted like coffee and cluelessness.

  She pushed away from him, and he dashed off with a wink.

  “Don’t expect to see me at Noonan’s anymore. I’m a hero now!” he cried, bending his knees and leaping forward awkwardly. “Nope, can’t fly yet.”

  Kara snickered and watched him go. Then a passing fire truck reminded her of what she w
as supposed to be doing in the first place.

  “Shoot! Jacqueline Reyes!”

  Kara supersprinted the rest of the way to Eighth and Palmer, where a crowd had formed outside the building’s smoldering remains. A crowd that included several news vans.

  She definitely wasn’t getting the first interview with this woman.

  Kara pushed her way through the throng of people toward the news reporters and camera operators. At least a dozen microphones were pointed at the face of a pretty Latina woman wearing a dress and heels. She flashed each camera a gleaming smile as she spoke to the press, all poise and confidence.

  “I couldn’t very well wait for the weather to change. We’re not expecting rain until the weekend.” Jacqueline Reyes winked at the crowd. “I should know.”

  Everyone except Kara laughed.

  “So I decided to put the fire out myself,” concluded Jacqueline. “It’s a handy little gift, controlling the weather.” She held out one hand, palm up, and wriggled the fingers of her other hand above it. A tiny dark cloud formed in the space between her hands, and soon a flurry of small white flakes fell from it.

  The crowd erupted in applause and excited chatter, and the reporters shouted more questions.

  “Is this why your weather reports are always so accurate?”

  “Do you have other powers?”

  “Are you working with Supergirl?”

  Kara’s eyebrows went up at the first question, and she half listened to the answers as she pulled up a web browser on her phone. A search for “Jacqueline Reyes meteorologist” revealed a publicity photo of the woman standing in front of her.

  Jacqueline Reyes reported the weather and could control it, Kara thought, which might have meant a person’s job determined their power—if it weren’t for Marcus. He was superstrong, but that had nothing to do with taking coffee orders.

  “I expect Supergirl and I will team up soon,” Jaqueline responded.

  Kara shook her head. Jacqueline was drawing way too much attention to herself. Hinting that she might know Supergirl could endanger her life, especially if these powers weren’t permanent.

  It was time to clear the crowd.

  “You’re pretty confident for someone who just got her superpower today!” shouted Kara.

  Jacqueline’s confident smile faltered. Half the reporters turned toward Kara, and the other half kept their microphones trained on the meteorologist.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” said Jacqueline. She blinked rapidly and brought back her smile. “I’ve always had this power.”

  “Really? Because there are supercitizens popping up all over the city today,” said Kara.

  Now all the microphones and cameras were on her.

  “There are?” someone asked.

  “Where?” another reporter chimed in.

  “The police are after a guy with poison darts for fingernails, there’s an old lady with claws in the warehouse district, and an employee at Noonan’s has superstrength,” Kara told them.

  She left out the fact that Marcus wouldn’t be there anymore.

  The reporters spoke or motioned to their camera crews, and soon most of the media were on the road, leaving Kara to confront a glowering Jacqueline.

  “Who do you think you are?” asked Jacqueline, glaring at Kara.

  “Someone who doesn’t want to see you get killed,” said Kara. “We need to talk.”

  Alex hated charades.

  When she and her friends played on game nights, nobody could understand what she was acting out, and Kara would eventually have to use her X-ray vison to read the answer on the card.

  But charades was all Alex could think to do as she and Prisoner 52 stared at each other through the side of the tank at the DEO.

  “Why are you here?” Alex shrugged her shoulders, pointed to Prisoner 52, then pointed to the ground. She hoped body language was universal. For all she knew, she’d just told the creature that his mother was a sea horse.

  In response to her gestures, Prisoner 52 screeched and squawked.

  Alex sighed. “Yeah, you and me both, buddy.”

  The cell door slid open, and J’onn and Winn joined her.

  “How’s Bubbles?” asked Winn.

  “Bubbles?” Alex repeated with a smirk.

  “Prisoner 52,” J’onn said, frowning at Winn.

  “See, to me, that feels a little impersonal,” said Winn. “All the other inmates have names.” He stopped and corrected himself. “Except the one who uses a symbol. Like Prince.”

  “Well, Bubbles is doing fine,” said Alex, smiling at the way the name made J’onn’s forehead crinkle. “But I still can’t tell you a thing about him or why he’s here.”

  Winn held up a finger. “I thought you might say that. I came up with something that should help.”

  He reached into a bag he’d brought and pulled out what looked like a cycling helmet with several wires running off it. Each wire ended with an electrode disk, except for one that had a 3.5 mm connector.

  “You’re going to try an EEG?” asked Alex.

  An electroencephalograph was good for monitoring electrical activity in the brain, but Alex didn’t think Bubbles had any problems with his mental faculties.

  “It’s sort of an EEG,” said Winn, turning the helmet over in one hand. “Except this device won’t just chart Bubbles’s brain activity. It’ll let us see what he’s thinking. I call it the camera cogitari.”

  Alex glanced at Bubbles, who was watching their conversation with rapt attention. “And how are you planning to get him to wear it?”

  “He doesn’t have to,” said J’onn, taking the helmet from Winn. “I’ll read his mind—”

  “And what was his name again?” interrupted Winn, blinking innocently.

  J’onn grunted. “I’ll read the creature’s mind and make his thoughts my own.” He put on the helmet. “Because, trust me, you don’t want to see what I’m thinking right now.”

  Alex hid a smile while Winn attached the electrodes to J’onn’s scalp. Then Winn took the tablet computer from its wall holster and plugged in the helmet’s connecting wire. He tapped the tablet screen a few times and nodded to J’onn.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Winn said.

  He and J’onn approached Bubbles’s tank, and J’onn closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Alex watched over Winn’s shoulder as images from J’onn’s mind—or, rather, Bubbles’s mind—appeared on the screen.

  “Wow,” whispered Alex.

  It would be wrong to call what she saw an ordinary city. This was a haunting masterpiece. Around a central tower stood stone buildings trimmed in gold and supported by pillars with even more gold-inlaid images and writing. Scattered about the city were statues of unfamiliar figures and bridges that joined crumbling roadways. Every structure held a greenish hue and fluttered with the activity of tropical fish darting about.

  Because the entire city was underwater.

  Suddenly, the image of the city was replaced by two scuba divers in black wet suits. They were swimming from the city toward the surface with a length of netting between them, something nestled in its midst.

  Another image replaced that one: a man slipping into the tank at the National City Aquarium’s deep-sea exhibit . . . while wearing a black wet suit.

  “That’s why Bubbles attacked the aquarium employee,” said Alex, pointing at the screen.

  Winn nodded. “He thought it was one of the guys who took something from his city.”

  The image on the screen turned black as J’onn opened his eyes and removed the helmet.

  “Any idea where this city is?” he asked.

  Winn shrugged. “There are all kinds of sunken places in the world: Port Royal in Jamaica, Cleopatra’s palace in Egypt . . .” He cleared his throat, and in a softer voice added, “Atlantis.”

  “Atlantis?” Alex said skeptically, crossing her arms. “The mythical city of demigods that nobody’s ever been able to find?”

  Winn mirrored her sta
nce. “We work for a department that monitors aliens, your sister can fly, and we know a speedster from an alternate Earth. Not to mention we’ve got a giant sea monkey in a tank.” He gestured to Bubbles. “But Atlantis seems unbelievable?”

  “He has a point,” said J’onn before Alex could argue. “Winn, did you save those images when you extracted them from my mind?”

  “Of course,” said Winn. “And I thought I’d do a reverse photo lookup for matches.”

  J’onn nodded approvingly. “Get on it.”

  As Winn was putting the helmet and tablet away, Alex’s phone rang with a call from Kara.

  “Hey, you! How’s the interview going?” she asked, putting her sister on speaker.

  “It’s not, actually,” said Kara. “I just got done scolding Jacqueline Reyes about showing off her powers. What have you learned about her? All I know is she’s a meteorologist.”

  Winn bit his lip. “I was working on a project for J’onn. But I can look her up now.”

  He grabbed his bag and hurried from Bubbles’s holding cell, with Alex and J’onn following.

  “While we’re at it, what did you find out about the robbers from the museum?” Kara asked as Winn, Alex, and J’onn entered the control room.

  “Is that Kara on the phone?” Mon-El asked, swiveling in Winn’s chair. “Tell her I took care of the mess at the museum, but Supergirl’s going to have to make an appearance at their annual fundraiser.”

  “Thanks, babe!” said Kara.

  “Move, babe.” Winn shooed Mon-El away and took his place, feet dangling above the floor. “Holy crap, you’re tall.” He adjusted the chair and clacked away on his keyboard. “I got some results when I cross-referenced museum surveillance images through our facial recognition software. Looks like Bee Breather’s real name is Wendell Geary. He works at an auto shop and—get this—keeps bees on the roof of his apartment as a hobby.”

  “Interesting,” said Kara. “And Lady Levitation?”

  “That’s Samantha Coen,” said Alex. “She works at the auto shop with Wendell, and she’s an amateur bodybuilder on the side.”

  Mon-El’s eyes widened. “She builds bodies? Out of what, car parts? No wonder she’s an amateur.”