Supergirl

by Jo Whittemore

  “OK,” she said.

  She reeled back her fist, and the Human Sponge smirked.

  Supergirl’s punch connected, and he wobbled on the spot, pointing at her.

  “Hey, how did you—” The Human Sponge fell backward against the table that held the orichalcum.

  But when the table fell, there was no clinking of metal on metal.

  The orichalcum was gone.

  Supergirl smiled.

  “Winn, someone took the orichalcum,” she said. “Can you track it?”

  “Absolutely,” he said, and Supergirl heard the clacking of keys. “The orichalcum has left the building. It’s in a white SUV beyond the police perimeter heading down Seventh Street.”

  Supergirl flew out of the orchestra pit and through the front doors of the theater, zooming along Seventh Street.

  She spotted the white SUV and flew up to the driver’s window, knocking on the glass.

  A man dressed all in black gave her a startled look.

  “Hi, Shadow!” she called. “Why don’t you take a left at the next light and head for the police station?”

  Shadow stepped on the gas and turned right instead. Supergirl gave chase for a few blocks and then approached the passenger side of the SUV. Shadow veered hard left.

  “He’s falling for it!” Winn said in a gleeful voice.

  Supergirl herded Shadow’s SUV a couple more blocks, always giving him a slight lead, all the way to the harbor.

  Once he reached the waterfront, Shadow jumped out of his SUV and put on the pack filled with orichalcum. Just as Supergirl was closing in, Shadow ran for a speedboat tied to the dock and started it up. With a grin and a salute at Supergirl, he revved the motor and headed out into the ocean.

  Supergirl floated in the air, arms crossed, watching him race away.

  The speedboat met fairly calm water until about fifty yards out. Then a geyser exploded next to Shadow’s boat, and from the center of it emerged . . . Pryll. Shadow gave a terrified shriek as Pryll leaped over the boat, grabbing both supercitizen and orichalcum and pulling them underwater.

  The ocean continued to bubble and froth for several minutes until it went calm once more, gentle waves slapping against the remains of an empty backpack that floated to the surface.

  The guardian of Atlantis had fulfilled his duty.

  17

  “Well, the theater’s still standing and nobody’s dead,” said Winn. “I’d call that a . . .” He pointed to himself.

  “I don’t think Mr. Albright would agree,” said James with a smirk. “I saw him crying in the theater parking lot when we drove away.”

  The sun had finally risen, and they were back at DEO headquarters, along with Alex and Mon-El, who were awaiting their debriefings by J’onn.

  “Maybe they were tears of joy,” suggested Mon-El.

  Alex snorted. “Yeah, because he was happy to see us leave.”

  “At least he has plenty of souvenirs to sell.” Supergirl walked over from the debriefing room. “Babe, you’re up.” She rattled the back of Mon-El’s chair.

  He sighed and stood. “I still don’t know why I have to do this. J’onn was there. He knows what happened.”

  “Oh, really?” Alex cocked her head to one side. “He was there when you ran onto the stage and swung over the orchestra pit on a curtain before crashing into the front row of seats?”

  Mon-El pressed his lips together. “That’s actually her fault.” He pointed a thumb at Supergirl, who made a sputtering sound.

  “Me? How?” she asked.

  “You took me to see that pirate movie,” said Mon-El. “You know I’m easily influenced by the reckless actions of others.”

  Supergirl glanced at Alex, who shrugged. “You can’t argue with logic like that.”

  “Plus, I wasn’t thinking straight.” Mon-El grabbed Supergirl’s hand. “I was worried about you chasing the supercitizen alone.”

  She beamed at him. “Well, as you can see, everything turned out fine.”

  Alex crossed her arms. “I still think you should’ve told all of us your plan with Pryll, not just Winn. We could’ve helped.”

  Supergirl shook her head. “The more people knew, the more complicated it would’ve gotten. Besides, I also told J’onn. I needed him to put Shadow in a chokehold that would only knock him out for a few minutes.”

  Alex’s mouth fell open. “When did you do that?”

  “When you were giving your speech at the diner,” Supergirl said with a grin.

  “But what if Shadow had escaped with the orichalcum while everyone was fighting?” asked James.

  Supergirl nodded to Winn. “That’s why I told Winn the plan—so he could keep an eye on the orichalcum. If it moved too early, he’d let me know.”

  J’onn appeared in the doorway of the debriefing room. “Mon-El?”

  “Sorry, coming!” Mon-El blew Supergirl a kiss and jogged away.

  “I do wish you guys could’ve seen Pryll’s moment of glory.” Supergirl took Mon-El’s vacant chair. “He leaped out of the water, grabbed Shadow and the orichalcum, and dove right back under.” She mimed the jump with her hand. “If it’d been an Olympic event, I would’ve given him a 9.8.”

  Alex and Winn laughed, but James didn’t. “Wait a minute. He took someone underwater with him?” James turned to Winn. “I thought you said nobody died.”

  “Nobody did,” confirmed Winn, turning toward his computer. He punched a couple of keys, and an image of a bedraggled, waterlogged Shadow appeared on-screen. “About fifteen minutes ago, the Coast Guard found this man floating on driftwood, raving about an underwater city.”

  The concerned look on James’s face didn’t ease. “What if they start looking for Atlantis?”

  Winn gestured to Supergirl, who got back to her feet.

  “That’s where I come in,” she said.

  Winn opened his desk drawer and, with a Herculean effort, hefted out what looked like three shot-putting spheres.

  “These are signal blockers that will prevent sonar, radar, lidar, and every-other-kind-of-ar from ever finding Atlantis again,” said Winn.

  Supergirl picked up the blockers as easily as if they were golf balls. “I’ll let you know once I hand them over to Pryll.”

  “Do you want to get coffee when you’re done there?” asked Alex, yawning. “I’m gonna need a pick-me-up.”

  “I’d love to, but I’ve still got a mayor’s office to visit and one more article to write.” She stifled a yawn of her own and took off for National City Harbor.

  Supergirl retraced the speedboat’s earlier path, pausing in her flight once she’d reached the point where Pryll had appeared. Making sure there were no ships around, she dipped low and rapid-punched the water three times, hard enough to create a slew of waves.

  Then she waited.

  After a couple of minutes, her eyes caught movement in the water, and then Pryll’s head broke the surface.

  “Supergirl, it is nice to see you,” he said by way of greeting.

  “Hi, Pryll,” she said with a smile. “I brought something to protect your city.” She held up the signal blockers. “Plant them on three corners of Atlantis, and nobody should bother you again.”

  Pryll reached up and took them from her. “Thank you, Supergirl. For this and for keeping your promise.”

  “Thank you for trusting me. And for not killing that guy you captured,” she said with a smirk.

  Pryll nodded solemnly. “You are a friend of Atlantis. We keep our promises, too.”

  “Well, I’m . . .” Supergirl stopped. “Wait a minute. Did you say ‘we’?”

  Pryll floated quietly for a moment.

  “Pryll?” Supergirl coaxed.

  “I was not entirely forthright with you earlier,” he said. “You assumed I was the last of my kind. That is untrue. My king also lives.”

  Supergirl’s eyes widened. “There’s a king of Atlantis?”

  “He is reluctant to rule, but yes.”

  Super
girl crossed her arms and smiled at Pryll. “You tricked me.”

  He smiled back. “I gained more of your sympathy when you thought I was alone. Would you still have helped otherwise?”

  “Of course,” she said. “But I am glad you’re not the last of your kind.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “Be well, Pryll of Atlantis.”

  He imitated her gesture. “Be well, Supergirl.”

  Pryll submerged, and Supergirl watched his dark form until it disappeared into the darker depths of the ocean.

  As she shot into the sky, Supergirl smiled to herself.

  If she could finally make peace with a nearly extinct sea species, apologizing to the mayor’s assistant would be a piece of cake.

  And speaking of cake . . .

  Supergirl zipped across the country to a bakery and coffee shop in Central City, wondering if her friend Barry Allen had a CC Jitters on his Earth. She snatched up some pastries, dropped money on the counter, and flew back to her own city. After ducking into an alley behind City Hall, she reemerged as Kara Danvers, carrying three pink bakery boxes.

  When she entered the building, Kara handed one of the boxes to the guards, thanking them for their service. The next box she brought to Ms. Binder’s desk. Thankfully, the perfectly poised woman still had a job there.

  “Welcome to City—” she started to chirp, until she recognized Kara. “Oh. Hello.”

  It wasn’t an annoyed hello or a bored one. Rather, it was more curious.

  “Hi,” said Kara, placing another of the pink bakery boxes on the counter. “I brought this as an apology for getting you into trouble.”

  The information clerk’s face lit up. “For me?” She tentatively peeked under the lid and gasped. “Éclairs. My favorite!” Ms. Binder’s chair scraped against the floor as she pushed it back and hurried around to hug Kara. “Thank you. Nobody’s ever done something this nice for me.”

  “You’re welcome,” said Kara. “I was also hoping to offer an apology to the mayor’s assistant.” She held out the other pink bakery box and let Ms. Binder see the contents.

  “Well, I can’t imagine she would object to a present,” said Ms. Binder.

  Kara nodded and waited.

  Ms. Binder pointed to the elevators. “Elevators are right there, hon.”

  Kara took a step toward them. “You don’t need to call and make sure it’s OK for me to go up?”

  “No,” said the clerk, scoffing. “She’s the mayor’s assistant, not the mayor. And if she dares to try and have me fired, I’d love to see her use this as grounds.”

  There was a spark in Ms. Binder’s eyes that hadn’t been there before, and Kara could feel the conviction behind her words.

  “What changed your mind from yesterday?” asked Kara.

  The clerk smiled again and leaned forward confidentially. “After you left, I started working on my résumé. You know, thinking I might get fired. I was listing my skills, and I realized you were right. I am great at my job. If they don’t want me here, there are plenty of people out there who will.”

  Kara beamed at the woman. “Absolutely!”

  Things had turned out better with Ms. Binder than she’d expected.

  Kara hoped it would be the same upstairs.

  She clutched the last pink box to her and headed for the elevators.

  The mayor’s assistant was busy insulting someone on the phone, but as soon as Kara appeared, she hung up and jumped to her feet.

  “You need to leave now,” she told Kara.

  Kara offered Courtney the pink bakery box, but Courtney sneered at it.

  “You really think you can win me over with gluten? Get out!” She pointed down the hall.

  “Actually,” said Kara, opening the lid, “it’s for your boss.”

  Courtney’s jaw dropped, and she lowered her arm. “This is . . . the mayor loves this cake.” She took the box from Kara. “But you can only get it in—”

  “Central City,” Kara finished for her.

  Courtney breathed in the contents of the box. “It’s fresh-baked! How did you do this?” She narrowed her eyes. “Is it fake? Is this a trick?”

  Kara couldn’t help laughing. “No. Let’s just say the mayor isn’t the only one with connections.”

  “Well, he’ll be very happy to have this.” Courtney closed the box and put it on her desk. “But as I’m sure you’ve heard, you’ve lost any interviewing privileges.” She pointed at Kara. “You. Personally. No matter who you write for.”

  Kara nodded. “I’m not here to talk my way back into the mayor’s good graces.” She pointed to the bakery box. “The cake is for the mayor, but this apology is for you.”

  Kara adjusted her glasses and cleared her throat. “I am truly sorry I put you and the mayor in positions where you had no choice but to talk to me. You should always have a choice. Nobody should ever feel threatened for doing their job well, and”—Kara gestured at Courtney—“you are exceptional at yours. And so is he. I know you both want what’s best for this city.”

  Courtney didn’t speak or move. She just studied Kara.

  “Well, that’s all I have to say.” Kara bounced on her toes. “Sorry again, and have a nice day.” She gave Courtney a small wave and walked away.

  “You still can’t have that interview,” Courtney told Kara.

  “I know.”

  There was silence for a few beats, and then Courtney called, “But thank you for the cake.”

  Kara smiled as she pressed the elevator button. That was the Kara Danvers way of communicating.

  Snapper wasn’t as pleased with Kara as she was with herself. When she turned in her two articles, he smacked the pages with the back of his hand.

  “Why are neither of these an interview with the mayor? Did you not apologize to his assistant?”

  “I did,” said Kara. “But I also told her I didn’t want the interview.”

  Kara braced herself for an explosion from Snapper, but all he did was jut his lower jaw and thrust Kara’s articles back in her hands.

  “That wasn’t your call to make, Ponytail,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.

  She fiddled with her glasses. “Actually, it . . . it was. A good journalist knows when to broach a subject, and when to leave it alone.” Kara shoved the articles back at Snapper, along with a plastic takeaway container. “Bear claw?”

  “I hate bear claws,” Snapper growled, but he dropped the articles on his desk and opened the container. “Explain yourself. Broach what subject?”

  “I read your op-ed piece about physical books and libraries disappearing under the mayor’s new initiative,” said Kara. “I also know it’s why he didn’t want to talk to anyone from CatCo.”

  Snapper stared at her with half a bear claw wedged in one cheek. “Yeah? So?”

  “So even if I got that interview, he’d want to spend it defending his digital library initiative. And, honestly, I don’t think he’s right. I think you are.”

  Kara expected her boss to smile smugly or gloat, but all Snapper did was shake his head.

  “Journalists don’t get to choose what stories to tell. Otherwise people accuse us of media bias.” Snapper picked up the other half of the bear claw. “You need to get that interview.”

  Kara’s first instinct was to disagree and storm off, but she thought about her conversation with Mon-El—about giving people what they wanted. Snapper seemed to be approaching the issue from a place of practicality. Maybe that was what he wanted from her, too.

  “Chief, if all Mayor Lowell wants to talk about is his initiative, and I report on nothing but that, aren’t I, in a way, supporting it?” she asked. “And isn’t that media bias?”

  Snapper tried to speak but his mouth was crammed with claw.

  “And if I tell the mayor he can’t talk about his initiative,” she continued, “wouldn’t that also be media bias?”

  Snapper rolled his eyes and grunted.

  Kara opened her arms wide. “It seems like we’d be in trouble for
talking to him no matter what. Don’t you think it’s better to avoid the issue altogether and talk about something more interesting, like, say, a superbattle?”

  Snapper finally swallowed and took a deep breath. But instead of commenting, he let out a long-suffering sigh and picked up Kara’s articles. “Superbattle?”

  “It’s got several credible sources: the owner of the theater where the battle took place, the owner of a diner near the theater, the scientist who created the antidote, and the NCPD officer who made the arrests,” said Kara, clasping and unclasping her hands.

  Snapper scanned the article. “So these Dominants no longer have their powers?”

  “Most of them don’t,” Kara corrected. “They depleted them during the superbattle.”

  Only two people had orichalcum-based powers left when the Dominants finally surrendered: Kara and Matt.

  “What about the supercitizens who weren’t in the fight?” asked Snapper.

  “NCPD is tracking them to make sure they don’t use their powers to cause trouble. And they’ve all received the antidote.” Kara pointed to her article. “I mentioned it right here.”

  Snapper handed Kara the pages, covered in sticky fingerprints. “You put too many r’s in Supergirl’s name. Unless she recently joined a punk band.”

  “But you’ll take this piece in place of my interview with the mayor?” Kara asked hopefully.

  Snapper leaned toward her and held up a finger. “Treasure this moment, because it will never come again. When I give assignments, I expect you to see things through to the end, no matter how you feel about them.” He lowered his hand. “However, that interview was a minefield to begin with, and this piece on the superbattle . . . it isn’t terrible.” He glowered at her. “But if anyone hears of my mercy, I will fire you. Again. Loudly.”

  “I won’t breathe a word,” Kara said, doing her best not to grin from ear to ear. “And thank you.”

  “I swear, Danvers, my hair turns grayer every time I talk to you.” Snapper shoved the rest of the bear claw in his mouth and walked away.

  It was only when he was out of earshot that Kara threw her arms in the air and cheered.

  “My writing isn’t terrible!” She wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed.