Red Light Hero

by Kory Shen

  Daisy showed him to the club's front door, where he bid her farewell. It was still night, but with nothing else to do, Alan headed in the direction of the warehouses.

  Something bothered him, but he couldn't quite place it. He had been walking for five minutes when it finally hit him. The pimp's body was gone. He hadn't noticed any signs of it or the pool of blood when he left the club. Daisy hadn't said anything either. It was as if the murder had never taken place.

  Sure, this was The Strip, but shouldn't a dead body cause a bigger commotion? If nothing else, wouldn't the pimp's boss be concerned about a dead employee?

  Come to think of it, Daisy had never asked about how the pimp had died. She had to have seen his mental projection, hadn't she? Why wasn't she freaking out or asking questions?

  The more Alan thought about it, the more uncomfortable he became. Daisy's earlier words echoed in his memory.

  Things aren't always what they seem.

  CHAPTER 17

  "How's progress?"

  Godmother approached Violet from behind to glance at her computer screen. Lately, Godmother had been visiting Violet in the laboratory for updates more frequently, rather than summoning Violet to her office.

  Violet swiveled in her chair. Godmother was scanning the report on her screen. "You miss it, don't you?" Violet asked. "The research. The lab work."

  Godmother smiled. "Sometimes." She pulled away from Violet's computer. "But my interest in this project has never been purely academic. I'm sure you understand that by now."

  It was obvious that Godmother wanted an alpha under her control, but there was something else that Godmother wasn't telling Violet. Violet had seen Godmother's hawk-eyed attention whenever new testing results on Alan's alphavirus were ready. Unfortunately, without fresh samples, most of the results were inconclusive.

  Violet waved at the jumble of letters and numbers on her screen. "Nothing new. More failed compatibility tests. I need to get Alan back here if we're going to make progress on that end. Are you sure we can't convince him to cooperate? It would make things a lot easier."

  "Oh, we'll convince him in due time. You've seen his psychological profile, though. His hang-ups, his idealistic sense of morality." Godmother stretched the last word with a distasteful air. "Be patient. He'll come back on his own. I know what he truly wants, even if he doesn't realize it yet, and I'll be there to give it to him."

  And what about herself? What did Violet want? Recognition for her research? Another taste of alpha powers? Other than the immediate hunt to solve a scientific puzzle, she wasn't sure these days. She sighed. "I hope so."

  Godmother stepped forward and placed her hands on Violet's shoulders. "Your own powers?"

  Violet raised her palm in answer. A speck of purple light glimmered in the center for a moment. She checked her wrist band, the new sequence-based sensor giving her a much more accurate measure of her viral load. Yesterday, it had read 30 counts. Today, it read 20 counts. At this rate, she would have undetectable levels of the alphavirus in a few more days.

  She didn't know why she had even bothered to make and wear the new band. All it did was signal her impending loss in greater detail.

  Godmother's hands on her shoulders tightened in a firm, comforting gesture. "I've always given you what you want, haven't I?"

  She had. Godmother had showered her with the resources and freedom to pursue any research she wanted. Other scientists would kill to have even a fraction of what she did under Godmother's care. "Yes. It's just that…this is taking so long. We've had one successful reinfection cycle with an original test case but still no observation of alpha powers. Other than that, the subject has been inactive." Violet winced inwardly at the term. He was Alan, not a subject, but she had to stay professional.

  "He's still working with shipping and receiving?" Godmother asked.

  "Yes. His daily schedule's been consistent for the last several days. No contact with any of our test cases or other field cases. Nothing. Straight to work then back to a rented room in the worker's district each day."

  Godmother gave Violet's shoulders a final squeeze and let go. "You can't force his type. Soon, very soon, you'll have your data."

  In the reflection of the glossy computer monitor, Violet saw Godmother studying her. "How can you be so sure?"

  "Don't forget. I built this place. A lone man in The Strip? He doesn't stand a chance."

  * * *

  Alan stared at the big fat zero on his phone screen from the banking app.

  He had bought a cheap used phone from another one of the warehouse workmates and gotten the phone card from a nearby convenience store. He had arrived in The Strip with practically nothing, escaped Godmother's headquarters with even less, and was now facing the reality of his current situation.

  Someone had emptied his bank account. He had nothing, nada, zilch.

  Up until then, Alan had harbored the hope that he could run away from everything and start an anonymous life across the border. He would cash out his life savings and find someone to smuggle him out of the country. So much for that wild dream.

  Whoever was after him, whether it was Maiden or the Fisher guy, meant serious business. If the incident at the school with Cover Girl hadn't convinced him, tampering with his bank account hammered it home. He was being watched and hunted by forces beyond his comprehension.

  Alan curled up on the musty mattress in the closet-sized room he was renting. The shift manager had authorized an early cash payment after three days of work to cover his bare essentials. Most of his first pay went to the shifty-eyed old Scrooge of a landlord, with the leftover cash spent on the phone and meals.

  Was he safe here? So far, Cover Girl's trust in Godmother's protection had proven correct. How long would he last beyond the shelter of The Strip? He didn't dare find out or even contact people from his former life.

  Cameron…

  His old life was as dead as his best friend. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

  Worst of all was the craving that was growing stronger and stronger every day, the throbbing in his mind that wouldn't go away.

  It had been too many days since his encounter with Daisy. Everywhere he went, he saw women, tall, slim, gorgeous. They weren't only in front of the brothels and gentlemen's clubs. Groups of young women flocked to the night clubs, dance halls, and bars. There were stag parties, vacationing tourists, prospective employees, or girls simply looking to drown a bad break-up in worse mistakes.

  At first, Alan had resolved to keep his pants on for as long as he could. From what he understood, all alphas, except for the one they called Sire, had to replenish their viral loads on a regular basis. By avoiding women, he'd let his alpha powers die away. Maybe the others would leave him alone once they saw he was harmless. How long would it take to be sure he was clean and free of the alphavirus? Probably more than a month. A year to be safe?

  He couldn't last a year, not him. If he was being honest, he doubted he would last a week.

  Alan punched the mattress. "Fuck!" He punched it again. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

  His neighbor pounded on the thin wall separating the rooms. "Sorry," Alan called out.

  His friend was dead, his own life was over, and all he could think about was getting his dick wet. Even the lure of alpha powers wasn't as strong.

  Cover Girl had said that no alpha had walked away from powers voluntarily. He could. He hadn't used his powers since killing the man. He could let them fade away. Were alpha powers addictive? Hell yes, but he already had an addiction. The problem was that he couldn't have one without the other.

  His thoughts lingered on Cover Girl. She was the same as him. Trapped by her power. She hadn't seemed happy about returning to Maiden and the other heroes.

  Alan clenched his fist and pulled back to punch the mattress but stopped himself. How fucked up was that? Being unable to sleep with whoever you wanted when you were a goddamn hero? And who the fuck got to decide who was an alpha and who wasn't?

&
nbsp; Alan sat up.

  It was the same as usual. PIERCR, Sire, the alphas? He had seen this over and over again. The ones in charged were fucked up, hoarding power and afraid of anyone who threatened their stronghold. What kind of heroes went around murdering civilians and attacking schools?

  And why was he afraid of having sex? Because that's what they wanted him to believe, spreading lies and false hopes. Don't tell people they could become alphas themselves. Teach the public to idolize alphas as heroes, to rely on them. Create dependency. Addiction. Alan understood exactly how that worked.

  This was his chance. He shouldn't run from the alphavirus. He should embrace it. Be the alpha that no one else was. It was clear now. He would do it, not on Godmother's terms or anyone else's, but on his own terms.

  Wasn't that what he had always dreamed about? Setting things right? He had hated his old job in D.C. — all the whitewashing and astroturfing campaigns to keep rotten clients in power. This was his chance to break the cycle.

  Still, Alan couldn't brush aside the familiar sense of guilt that awaited his decision. Whenever he wanted something, he had a nagging doubt that what he wanted was wrong. Did he really care about doing the right thing? Wasn't this some hare-brained idea to justify chasing after women again?

  Alan fell back onto the bed with a sigh. Why did feeling good always have to feel wrong?

  * * *

  "You make me feel so naughty," Jill squealed. Or was it Jenny? "Fill me up, you bad boy. I'm on the pill. Fill me with your cum."

  Only the first half of Alan's cock slipped in and out of the small girl's frame, his head ramming into a dead end before going deeper. Tight lips wrapped themselves around the middle of his length as he thrust forward one last time. Alan held still as he erupted in a climax, but Jill wrapped her legs around his body and pulled him even harder inside herself.

  "Give it to me," she hissed.

  Jill was a petite coed he had met at the nightclub half an hour ago. They were currently fucking in one of the club's bathroom stalls with Jill sitting on top of the toilet's covered seat. A loud bass thumped in the distance. An occasional moan or scream carried over from some of the other stalls.

  Alan tried to wiggle free, but Jill held him close with her legs.

  "Not yet," she whispered, shaking her finger at him and grinding her pelvis into his.

  "Hey, listen up, Jill—"

  She frowned. "Julia."

  Damn it. "Hey, so Julia, you want to meet up again sometime?"

  Julia gave Alan a weird look. "Honey, I'm flying out later tonight with the other sisters." She unwrapped her legs, and Alan let his softening cock pull out of her.

  She noticed his disappointed look. "Aw, sweetie, I had a good time, too, but come on," she said. "This is The Strip. You know how it is."

  Alan wasn't sure what he had been thinking. He had half hoped to start an infection cycle with his own beta circle. Damn, this was going to be harder than he thought. He had to at least figure out if he was gaining any new alpha powers.

  "That's cool. Can I give you my phone number? If something unusual happens in the next couple of days, call me?"

  Julia pulled her panties back up and neatened her short skirt. Her eyebrows furrowed. "You were way hotter before you got needy. What do you mean by that anyways? Do you have a disease or something? You looked clean." She glared at him. "Shit, I need to see a doctor."

  "No, not like that. If anything cool happens—"

  "God, why are the hot ones always fucking crazy," Julia muttered as she pushed her way past him and out of the cramped bathroom stall.

  Alan stared at the departing girl, his pants still strewn at his ankles. A couple peered into his stall.

  "You done, man?" the frat boy in button-up blues and jeans asked.

  The girl on his arm eyed Alan's package. "Or you want to stay for a threesome, big guy?"

  Alan dressed hurriedly and left.

  CHAPTER 18

  Cover Girl watched as the three members of Electrophile's beta circle crowded around a single computer. The slimmest of the three dark tanned ladies, Stalker, sat in a chair, while the others, Shocker and Streaker, stood on either side.

  Cover Girl's mission was simple. Spy on Stalker and find out what the others knew. Infiltrating Electrophile's section of the Institute had been simple. Internal security was meant for keeping enemies at bay and not for dealing with other alphas. Plus, as everyone knew, no alpha had ever gone rogue. At least that's what Sire wanted the world to think.

  Cover Girl could have gone to The Strip to track Alan directly, but penetrating Godmother's security network would be more difficult. Maiden also didn't trust her when Alan was involved. Hell, Cover Girl didn't trust herself, either. What would she do if she saw Alan again? The plan was to let Electrophile and Stalker do the initial heavy lifting before swooping in for the kill.

  That's what Maiden wanted. Cover Girl had to save Alan. He was her ticket to freedom.

  She hadn't mentioned it to the others, but she was positive now that Alan had boosted her viral load. He had somehow reinfected her. When Idol had forced her to tell Maiden everything, she had held back her suspicions about Alan. Since she wasn't sure about the truth herself, she had been able to evade Idol's power.

  But Sire's interest in Alan proved that he was different. He was special. And if he could reinfect Cover Girl that meant he wasn't an alpha three. At the very least, he was an alpha two, if not something altogether new. If Alan could reinfect Cover Girl she didn't need Maiden anymore. She only needed him.

  Would Maiden let her go? Would Sire? Cover Girl pushed the dangerous thoughts away. She would worry about it after she found Alan. Or after Stalker did, that is. She crept closer to eavesdrop.

  "Didn't you get a trace on him?" Streaker asked. Her lean, taut frame had a blurry air. She was fidgeting at super speed as usual.

  Stalker's hands lay at her sides. She didn't touch the keyboard. "I did when he logged into this bank account, but The Strip has a giant fucking firewall over the whole city. I couldn't zero in on his location."

  "Well, shit. You're telling me that the mighty Stalker can't crack that?" Sparks danced between Shocker's fingertips as she spoke.

  "Godmother knows about me and Electrophile. She has alpha-grade defenses. Some kind of AI," Stalker said. "Her internal network is air-gapped. Even I can't cross that. What I would give for a minute of access to that baby."

  "Godmother's not the target," Streaker said. "It's Star. Focus on Star."

  "It's so fucking annoying how Electrophile keeps getting pulled to Asia these days." Shocker sighed. "I bet he'd be done already."

  "Plus he wouldn't have botched the Maker job," Streaker added.

  "I told you, the Maker's gadgets aren't normal," Stalker snapped. "Even Electrophile couldn't figure out the stash we captured. And I'll find Star. It's not like our competition is doing any better. I've wiped PIERCR's records. HumiliT's all muscles and no brains. That leaves Maiden."

  "What about Maiden?" Shocker asked.

  "Ask Cover Girl," Stalker said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder.

  Cover Girl's years of experience were the only thing that kept her from crying out as Shocker and Streaker turned to survey the room.

  "Allow me?" Shocker asked. Streaker shrugged in reply.

  Shocker raised her hand in the air. The computer's monitor flickered.

  "Hey, watch the computer!" Stalker shouted.

  Cover Girl couldn't see anything, but she knew Shocker was sending electromagnetic pulses into the air in a kind of electric sonar. They had played this game before. No matter how good her invisibility, her body's response to the complex frequencies Shocker was emitting would give away her location unless she kept moving.

  Cover Girl materialized with her hands in the air.

  "All right, all right. I'm here," Cover Girl said.

  Shocker smirked. Streaker zipped over to her in an instant to stand face to face, then zipped back to her original l
ocation.

  "But how did you know I was here?" Cover Girl asked.

  Stalker turned to face her. "An educated guess." She tapped her head. "Unlike the rest of you, my power's in here. Thinking. It's what I do."

  "Then what was that before? All that bullshitting in front of me about losing Alan."

  Stalker shook her head. "I wasn't bullshitting. I can find him, but when I do, I'll need your help." She leaned forward. "Both of us know what will happen if Maiden reaches your precious Alan first. It's also no secret that you and Maiden aren't on the best of terms."

  Shocker laughed. "I like where this is going." Streaker nodded vigorously, her head a blur.

  "Quiet, you two," Stalker said. "So what do you say, Cover Girl?"

  Stalker was asking her to betray her alpha prime. Alphas didn't fight among themselves, not directly, but this was as close to an open declaration of war between Electrophile and Maiden as possible without coming to direct blows. Was Electrophile that desperate for Sire's reward? It didn't matter. In Maiden's eyes, Cover Girl was already a traitor. And while she didn't know what Sire had in store for Alan, at least it would keep Maiden away from him.

  "I…" Cover Girl began, but the words caught in her throat. She had already left Alan in Godmother's hands. Giving him to Sire would be no better. They were both monsters in their own right.

  She had started this. She had to finish it. She had to find a way to help Alan.

  "I'll do what a hero should," Cover Girl finished. "That's all I can promise."

  The others laughed, but Stalker gave her a curious look. "What a hero should?"

  "We're heroes, aren't we?" Cover Girl asked bitterly.

  Stalker held her gaze for a moment, then nodded. "I can work with that."

  * * *

  Alan lost track of how many women he had slept with in the last four days. Hadn't he been doing the same thing in the comfort of Godmother's headquarters? The irony wasn't lost on him. All he had done was downgrade to the dingy little room he currently called home. Was anything else fundamentally different?