Red Light Hero

by Kory Shen

"Cover Girl. I've heard of you. In the news."

  The voice whispered back. "Not now, Alan. Keep quiet."

  A yellow taxi approached. "Do you have cash?" Cover Girl asked.

  Alan patted his pocket. "Yeah, I have some."

  "Get in the taxi. I'll give you directions."

  Alan hailed the cab and followed Cover Girl's instructions. She joined him but stayed invisible. First, they stopped at an ATM, and Alan withdrew the maximum daily limit. Then, Cover Girl led him to a small, nondescript motel on the outskirts of the city. He paid the taxi fare and got out. He assumed Cover Girl had also gotten out.

  "Cover Girl?"

  There was no answer.

  "Cover Girl?"

  Shit. She was gone again. His phone buzzed with a new message. It was from "Jane."

  Stay here under the name Alan Smith. Within a day, I'll bring you 100K cash and new government IDs. Move west and stay out of sight. I'm truly sorry about what happened to you and your friends, but I'm powerless to stop it. Do not reply to this message. After you read this, throw away your phone. Do not talk to anyone about what you saw. If you're lucky, we won't meet again.

  At first, Alan was hesitant to get rid of his expensive smartphone. Then, he remembered the image of Cameron's body breaking apart into pieces. He threw his phone into the night sky with all the force of his rage and fear.

  Alan checked into the motel and promptly fell asleep on the bed, still wearing his clothes.

  * * *

  Cover Girl watched Alan walk into his room.

  Tears streamed down her face. She had messed up big time. Maiden was furious at her. Now innocent people were dead.

  Cover Girl didn't know how much longer she could last in Maiden's beta circle. She was going crazy. Even if she had never met Alan, something else would have happened. There were rules upon rules, always benefiting the primes. Sex whenever Maiden wanted it. No sex with anyone outside of the circle. Ever.

  That wasn't fair. She knew the reasons for the rules. It was stifling, though, living under their weight.

  Cover Girl wasn't even sure if she liked girls anymore. She wanted a man, desperately. Her desperation was what had led her to Alan.

  It wasn't just about the sex, either. Maiden had changed. So had the others. So had she. When Maiden had first seduced her, Cover Girl had been a wide-eyed eager young woman searching for the next high. Maiden had been kinder. Gentle. All traces of the old Maiden were gone. She was a harsh mistress, demanding perfection and absolute obedience.

  Were they still on the right side? Alan had been right to question them.

  Of course, she could walk away from everything. But then she would have to give up her powers. Her alpha status. For now, that was still a worse fate than being shackled to Maiden's beta circle. So she stayed, fucking Maiden regularly and pleasing her every whim to maintain her viral load and the powers they conferred.

  Cover Girl checked the viral meter on her wrist, a glorified thermometer. As she burned through the alphavirus particles, her body temperature would return to normal. It currently read nearly a hundred Fahrenheit, which puzzled her. She hadn't slept with Maiden in nearly a week. Her viral load should have been much lower.

  Could it have been Alan? No, that was impossible. She was an alpha two. Alpha two's couldn't sustain their viral load with a beta circle. Still, she would monitor Alan for a day or two. She had to make sure he wasn't manifesting any powers.

  The motel only had one floor. Cover Girl peeked into the window of Alan's room. Watching him wouldn't be too bad. Her fingers crept involuntarily down her stomach, lower and lower. She loved watching people, especially broad-shouldered men with dark hair and stubble—

  Her earpiece rang. She had set all communications to silent mode. Only one person had the authority to call her right now. Her agent.

  "Hey Page, this is Richard. I want to go over your plans for Paris tomorrow…"

  Damn. She'd forgotten. It wouldn't look good, but she'd have to cancel the appearance.

  "Hi Richard, so yeah, about Paris…"

  * * *

  The next day, true to her word, Cover Girl left a backpack hanging on his door filled with hundred-dollar bills and a passport for Alan Smith. An otherwise empty wallet held a California driver's license for the same name. If he squinted, the pictures on the passport and license looked like him. Sort of.

  He held onto the bag, pocketed the IDs, and headed over to a shopping plaza across the road to get himself a new phone and some lunch.

  Fifteen minutes later, he was eating the five dollar value meal from a burger joint, complete with soda and fries. He wasn't sure if it was the shock of yesterday's events, or his own way to remember Cameron, but he no longer cared what he ate. What was the point?

  Memories of bloody and broken body parts threatened to surface. Fuck. He put down the half-eaten burger and stared out the window, sipping on the bubbly drink. What was he supposed to do now? Head west, like Cover Girl had said? He'd have to buy a car. Why couldn't he hang out back in D.C., or even New York? Those cities were huge. They couldn't possibly find one random guy living there, could they?

  "Need a refill?"

  The girl working the cash register was standing by his table with a mop in her hands. Alan had been lost in thought. He realized he was making loud slurping noises from the bottom of his drink.

  "No, I'm fine," Alan said, setting the empty drink on the table in embarrassment.

  "It's on the house. For you."

  Alan turned to check out the girl. She was kind of cute, in a small town way. Nothing special, but he'd hit it. Alan shook his head. He didn't want to think about that right now.

  The girl mistook his head shake for a reply. "Oh. Got to keep in shape, right? You look like you spend a lot of time working out."

  "Thanks, but I just need some time to myself."

  "Sure. I'll be around if you change your mind."

  The girl left to clean up another table. She had dark brown hair. Like Cover Girl. If she were a little taller, a little slimmer—

  The girl caught him staring at her. She smiled. Alan turned away. He didn't want to give her ideas.

  Cover Girl. Jane. Who was she? He had to find her again. He couldn't spend the rest of his life on the run, or living out of some cabin in the middle of Montana. He needed to figure out why the hell a bunch of heroes would try to kill him, and then he'd set things straight.

  Alan had already searched for more information about Cover Girl online, but like her physical self, her online presence was invisible. There were news reports about Cover Girl taking part in a hostage situation or breaking up a drug ring, but the information was sterile, as if someone had scrubbed it clean of any useful details.

  He had done precisely that for his own clients at the reputation management firm. It made sense. The alphas had to protect themselves.

  Cover Girl frequently worked with Escort and another hero called Pearl. The news reports didn't talk about their alpha powers, but he had seen Escort's teleportation ability himself, and based on reports, he guessed that Pearl was some kind of damage dealer.

  Other than that, he couldn't find much else about Cover Girl. There was an editorial piece in a national newspaper about the use of alphas in overseas military action. Some cabinet member had resigned in protest. Cover Girl's name was in the article. That was it.

  He needed another angle. What else did he know about Cover Girl?

  Cameron had recognized her, right before Escort murdered him. What had he been about to say? A name like Peggy or Peyton? Maybe Beth?

  That meant she was famous or someone in Cameron's life. Cameron would have mentioned a babe like her before. That left someone famous. Who would Cameron recognize? A movie star? A porn star?

  Alan tapped his head. Think. Think. Someone hot. Someone famous enough for Cameron to recognize. He pulled out his phone and searched for various terms.

  Hottest girls. A bunch of porn sites.

  Hottest celebri
ties. Some skanky entertainment sites. Alan browsed a couple of the top ten lists, but he didn't recognize anyone.

  Famous women. Mostly old or dead women. Definitely not Cover Girl.

  Alan paused. Come on, what type of woman would Cameron recognize? What type of girls did he like? Cameron had sent him pictures now and then of hot girls he found online. Alan's eyes widened. That had to be it.

  Hottest female influencers.

  There it was. Jane's face, the one he had glimpsed behind her sunglasses, stared at him from the top of the search results.

  Jane, also known as Cover Girl. Also known as Page Glory.

  Alan's heart raced. He knew who Cover Girl was. Oh god. They were going to kill him, weren't they?

  "My friends say I look like her. Like Page Glory."

  Alan jumped and nearly dropped his phone. The girl who worked there was peeking over at his phone screen. He pocketed his phone, cleared his table, and headed for the exit.

  The door's chime tinkled as he opened it.

  A voice called after him. "So you like brunettes?"

  CHAPTER 5

  An invisible Cover Girl stood outside the burger joint, watching the serving girl flirt with Alan. Stupid bitch. She didn't have a chance. It had only been a fling, but Cover Girl couldn't help being jealous.

  The hell? Alan was actually checking her out? Poor guy. She could give him what he needed. She wanted to give him what he needed. Cover Girl sighed, her breath leaving a hint of moisture on the window. Sloppy. She took a step back.

  It didn't matter if he slept with the serving girl. It didn't look like Alan was showing signs of infection. Even if he was, at best, Alan was an alpha three. He wouldn't be able to pass on the alphavirus.

  Alan fiddled with his phone, then brushed off the serving girl as he left. She smiled at that last part. If he had enough sense to turn down women throwing themselves at him, he must be doing okay. Everything would be all right. She'd watch him for the rest of the day, then head back to the Institute.

  She turned to follow Alan but noticed another woman lounging by the side of the fast food joint, just out of his line of vision. The blonde was wearing a simple red dress, but even out of uniform, Cover Girl recognized her.

  Cover Girl dashed forward. "Escort!" she hissed.

  "Hm? That you, Cover Girl?" Escort replied in no particular direction.

  "Of course it's me. What are you doing here?"

  "Being seen. By you, not him. I figured you'd be around."

  "But how did you find us?" Cover Girl asked.

  Escort raised an eyebrow. "I am Escort. Best tracker in the business."

  Cover Girl blew an unlady-like raspberry. "Stalker's better."

  "That creepy bitch? You can fool computers. Can't fool me."

  At first, Cover Girl was worried that Maiden had sent Escort again to kill Alan. She clenched her hand into a fist, then released it. In that case, though, they wouldn't be having this conversation.

  "So what did you tell Maiden?" Cover Girl asked.

  "That the job was done."

  Escort jabbed a finger into the empty air, seemingly at random. She came uncannily close to connecting with Cover Girl. Cover Girl sidestepped to avoid the finger.

  "Listen, Cover Girl. I covered your sorry ass because we're tight and we go back. But I have to follow orders even if that means cleaning up messes. Even if that means getting my hands dirty. You got it?"

  "I got it, Escort, thank you so much—"

  "You can thank me by not fucking up again. Or fucking at all." Escort brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Christ, I came here to make sure you weren't fooling around, and here you are making invisible googley eyes at the boy. I know how much you like that kinky voyeur stuff. What the hell am I supposed to think?"

  "I swear I'm not doing anything," Cover Girl said. She had only touched herself once. Barely. It didn't count. "I'm making sure he's clean. I'm leaving tonight if nothing happens."

  Escort shook her head. "You and your watching. I'll take over. You head back."

  "But—"

  "Don't push me. If he's a threat, I'll kill him. I really will."

  For a moment, Cover Girl considered attacking Escort. Surprise attacks were her specialty. Escort couldn't dodge what she didn't expect.

  No, that was crazy. Why would she attack her own beta partner? No man was worth risking her alpha status.

  "Fine," Cover Girl said.

  Escort flickered away. A second later, she reappeared. The red dress was gone. Instead, she wore nondescript worker's clothes. She twirled her hair. "You think he likes homely blondes?"

  "Escort!" Cover Girl changed her mind. Maybe just a sucker punch to the gut.

  Escort laughed. "I'm kidding. Now hurry up and scram."

  * * *

  Back in his room, Alan sat on the bed next to the wall outlet, charging his phone as he looked up Page Glory online.

  She was clean, too clean, like a serious pro. A rags-to-riches story without a single piece of bad press.

  Page Glory had started out as a small time fashion model until five years ago, when she had jumped ship from the traditional fashion industry to promote herself online. Within one year, she was the hottest influencer. Advertising gigs, movie offers, and more modeling contracts came rolling to her doorsteps. She didn't promote brands. She was the brand, and a bestselling one at that.

  There was something familiar about her story, but Alan couldn't quite place it. Then, it clicked. Page Glory wasn't just peddling mascara and miniskirts. She was the one who had influenced a presidential race. Alan should have recognized her earlier, but he couldn't stand politics. Since moving back to D.C., though, his new job had forced him to deal with that world on occasion.

  Damn, he had gotten super lucky. She was a new breed of social royalty with a net worth between eight and nine figures. Pretty good for a career that paid you for your genes, not that there was anything wrong with that. Were all alphas this high-profile?

  Alan scrolled through the latest news. She had canceled an appearance in Paris today. Talking heads speculated whether that meant French fashion had gone out of style. The usual gossip and drivel.

  Another small news item caught his eye. In two days, she would appear at a school opening ceremony for an underprivileged neighborhood. A classic publicity move. He checked the address. If he rented a car, he could drive there in about an hour. All he had to do now was keep out of sight until then, like she had told him to.

  Good, he had a plan. Alan put the phone down and rubbed his temples. Was he sick? Ever since yesterday, a pounding headache had been killing him. All the stress and bad food couldn't have helped.

  Or was it something else? He had gotten a fever once after hooking up with a girl from a club. He had been scared shitless, but the doctor had reassured him it was only the flu.

  It was the one thing he hated about himself. Whenever women were involved, he took stupid risks. He knew he had a problem, that his reckless thrill-chasing would catch up to him some day. Maybe it already had.

  Alan picked up his phone to search for a nearby testing clinic. Did he catch something from Cover Girl? For his own sanity's sake, he needed answers. And something for his headache.

  "Shit, I could use an ibuprofen," Alan said, clutching his head.

  There was a gust of wind, as if someone had opened the door, but the door was shut. Alan whirled around. One of the dresser drawers was slightly ajar. He pulled it open on a hunch and found a bottle of ibuprofen inside.

  "The hell?" Alan looked around. "Cover Girl?"

  He stood up, spinning around with his arms. Then, he took a pillow in each hand and twirled the pillows around in circles all over the room. It would have been ridiculous if he hadn't been expecting an invisible woman.

  "Cover Girl, are you there?"

  Alan gave up and tossed the pillows back onto his bed.

  "Cover Girl, was that you? Please, Cover Girl. If you're here, why won't you talk to me?"


  "Please, Page?"

  Someone swore loudly from outside his window.

  Alan lifted the blinds but couldn't see anyone. He opened the door and raced outside.

  No one was there.

  * * *

  The next two days passed in a blur. Alan paid for an expensive rush-order STD test, one of the new genetic types. It turned up negative for everything. The clinic reminded him to come back in a few weeks to be certain, but Alan was reasonably sure that he hadn't caught anything. It was good enough for his conscience, at least.

  Alan was currently finishing lunch at the burger joint across the street. He'd check out of the motel that afternoon, then rent a car and drive down to Page's school event. Right now, though, he had another target on his radar.

  The same girl from the other day was working the cash register. Yeah, he was desperate. A fresh pack of condoms lay waiting back in his room. He wanted to get the jitters out of his system before he met Page. That's what he told himself, in any case.

  Alan walked up to the cash register, then hesitated. His friend was dead, and here he was, still chasing girls as usual. Who was he kidding? He was an addict. He briefly tried to make himself turn around, but it was too late. The cashier spotted him.

  She smiled. "I remember you. You're the one that likes brunettes."

  "Hi…" He looked at her name tag. "Hi, Sally. I'm Alan. Yeah, so about that. Do you think you can take a fifteen minute break?"

  Sally looked confused. "Fifteen minutes?"

  "Well, an hour's okay too." Alan nodded his head towards the window. "I'm staying in the motel across the street."

  "Oh!" Sally giggled. "I think you're cute, but I'm not like that. I'm more into long romantic walks, poetry, and candle-lit dinners."

  Alan nodded. He was…relieved? "I got it. Sorry about that. I didn't mean to imply anything."

  Sally smiled and shrugged. "I'm a good church girl."

  "Well, you won't have to put up with me again," Alan said. "I'll be leaving this afternoon. Thanks for the burgers."

  Alan strode towards the door.

  "Wait!" Sally shrieked.