by C. C. Ekeke
The sight broke through Hugo’s resentment. This rift was his to fix. “Sorry about earlier,” Hugo began softly. “And missing practice.”
Grace glowered a few moments before her anger vanished. “I’m sorry too.” She adjusted her flannel cap. “I want you competing with us. But the Phenoms need to know you'll be there.”
“Understood.” Hugo accepted this. He’d been the asshole. “If given a second chance, I’ll do better.” Hugo regretted those words as soon as he said them. Leaving the Fab Phenoms altogether might be a necessity when he started superheroing. If not, staying on wouldn’t be fair to his friends. But that decision had to wait, until he found these missing students.
Grace’s smile could brighten the heavens. She pulled Hugo into a hug. “Can I ask you something?” she asked after drawing back.
Hugo arched an eyebrow. “Depends.”
“What’s with Simon?” she demanded. “Things have been uber awkward for weeks.”
Hugo chuckled in disbelief. “Are you serious?”
“Like Boston sports fans.”
“Simon’s crazy about you,” Hugo admitted.
Grace blushed. “Him kissing me at my house was a clue.”
Hugo hesitated about speaking for Simon. But this would benefit him. “He’s protecting himself from getting hurt.” Hugo reached out, guiding Grace’s chin to him. “Do you like him?”
“As a friend…” Grace shrugged. Seeing her so uncomfortable was odd. “…maybe more?”
Hugo was lost. “Then what the heck?”
“Simon didn’t shoot his shot at Fall Fling.” Grace looked annoyed by the grilling. “I thought he was either scared or not interested. So I started seeing someone. That’s why I turned him down.”
“Yeah, you and Raphael,” Hugo replied so frankly, Grace jumped in her seat.
“Nobody knows that! How do you know that?” Her eyes tightened. “Does Simon know that?”
“I’m observant and haven’t told anyone,” Hugo stated, calming Grace significantly. He’d seen her and Raphael making out at a Halloween party a few months ago. Hypersensitivity had perks…and drawbacks. “You two still together?”
Grace stared at her hands, seemingly fascinated. “Raphael was hella fun and made me laugh, but things ran their course in a month. And he calls himself Dark Kent too much.”
Hugo stared at her. “What’s your nickname?”
“G-Mama, The Number One Stunnah,” Grace answered as if the query was stupid.
Hugo shook with amusement. “Yeah…” He pondered his next words, knowing their impact. “You want Simon? Go get him. But don’t do it just to fix your friendship. You both deserve better.”
“Wise words, sensei.” Grace flashed a smile. “You’re kinda the cutest. And the coolest.”
After another longer hug, Hugo exited the car. Once Grace drove off, he headed for his backyard, away from prying eyes. Then Hugo zoomed off for Ms. Ortiz’s costume shop.
Since Ms. Ortiz and her designers already had his measurements, they just needed notes on the costume’s look. “Keep the mask, but make the main colors black and purple to blend with shadows better.” Putting his stamp on his suit felt beyond empowering. This new identity would truly be his. Hugo scanned various costumes on display around him. Missy Magnificent’s glittery obsidian onesie caught his eye. Too showy, but not without positives. He turned to Ms. Ortiz. “Add a hood.”
After departing the costume shop, Hugo scoured Kevin Coleman’s social media accounts via phone for hangout spots. He struck gold shifting through photos of skateparks that Kevin frequented, specifically one in Morro Bay.
According to a few skaters, Kevin hadn’t been seen in days. One pale, dreadlocked guy directed Hugo to Kevin’s favorite spot after skating. A Fruit Gotta Have It stand at The Oldtown Farmer’s Market.
Minutes later, he arrived in Oldtown San Miguel. On Main Street, every Thursday, a farmer’s market ran from six to nine PM, originally held in San Luis Obispo before the 1987 earthquake. Hugo navigated through throngs of people and vendor stands on both sides, walling everyone in. Hugo swiped some free peach slices, eating them.
“Now what?” He amplified his hearing while searching for the Fruit Gotta Have It stand. Several fruit vendors were present, all smelling sweet and fresh. Hugo cursed himself for not thinking this detective shit through. As he pulled out his cell to check a farmer’s market map, ragged breathing noises reached him through the chatter. There was a wild animal behind some shops to Hugo’s right.
Curious, he wedged through the burrito bowl and energy crystals stands. Hugo found an alleyway between two shops and zipped through.
He stepped into an empty lot as most shopkeepers closed early on farmer’s market day. Hugo whipped around, and his jaw dropped.
Several feet away crouched the largest feline he’d ever seen, long and leonine with supple muscle. Its tawny fur was covered with red stripes. The beast, on its hind legs, strapped a vest to a motionless boy.
Hugo knew him. “Kevin!” Suddenly, he was moving toward this beast, despite wearing only civilian clothes. He only cared about rescuing Kevin and protecting farmer’s market customers.
The liger reared up, glowering with deep-yellow eyes. It growled, baring teeth. Hugo accelerated and yanked Kevin away.
A vicious paw swiped Hugo across the jaw like a speeding truck, rattling his skull. Now, he went airborne and flailing. Then dark pavement rushed up to smack his face.
Hugo shook off the blow, more dazed than hurt. He popped up as the liger stalked toward Kevin to finish snapping on the vest.
Hugo gaped at the vest’s digital clock.
“Not happening.” Hugo charged at the liger, sinking a hard shoulder into its back.
And the beast got launched into the air, thrashing wildly before it plummeted into another alleyway a few buildings away.
Hugo would deal with him later. He rushed to Kevin’s side. “Kevin? You okay?” The boy was unconscious. Hugo moved to him pick up.
And the vest clock blinked on, red numbers flashing seven seconds…
…six seconds…
“Fucking furball!” Hugo ripped the vest off Kevin’s thin body.
…five seconds…
Wasting no time, he leaped straight up, rising higher and higher.
…four seconds…
Hugo just needed to be high enough, away from the farmer’s market before tossing the bomb. Panic notwithstanding, power flowed through him to soar into the night skies. He’d craved the sensation but couldn’t lose himself in that right now.
…two seconds…
Below, San Miguel was an endless crisscrossing maze of lights and streets.
“Far enough.” He hauled back the bomb vest to toss it away.
…zero seconds…
Searing, battering impact bludgeoned Hugo. The skies around him went fiery like a white-hot sun.
A roar walloped Hugo’s eardrums, followed by cold air whooshing around him. The light waned as soon as it erupted. Hugo, dazed and ragdoll limp, plummeted. The crisscrossing streets enlarged again, filling his scrambled brain with one thought. I’m falling.
The gardens of the Old San Miguel mission broke his fall, leaving a deep, smoking hole.
Black spots danced around the edges of his vision, the whole world swimming in circles. Hugo struggled to all fours. “That…hurt,” he wheezed.
His shirt and part of his boardshorts were ruined. Besides his body aching all over and spasming ab muscles, Hugo wasn’t seriously injured. “I’m bombproof…sorta.” Faint embers spiraled from the smoldering cloud staining the evening skies. Alarm erupted from the farmer’s market, followed by panicked stampedes. The aches on Hugo’s durable flesh faded. He slumped onto his back and laughed. Those hundreds of exclamations were sweeter than any music. Better that than silence or shrieks of agony from blast injuries.
Hugo sat up. “Kevin.” Lurching to his feet, he raced away as caretakers emerged from the mission.
&nbs
p; Hugo's yo-yoing equilibrium careened him into a nearby white van.
By the loud crunch of a crumpled hood, the car yielded. Hugo shook his swimming head to clear it. “Sorry,” he hissed and zipped off with more balance.
Once he reached Kevin’s location behind the farmer’s market, the boy was kneeling and trying to shake off whatever he’d been dosed with.
Hugo almost stepped out from the shrubbery concealing him, but stopped to examine himself. His clothes hung by burnt threads. Way to be inconspicuous.
Thankfully, two elderly women from the farmer’s market found Kevin.
“Are you alright, young man?” one lady asked.
Kevin took in his surroundings with glassy eyes. “Dunno how I got here.”
The elderly women approached to comfort him and help.
Hugo sighed in thanks and withdrew into the shadows. Kevin was safe. Now Hugo had three other students to find. And he could place an ugly face behind these bombs. Unfortunately, when Hugo sniffed the air and listened, the liger was gone.
Hugo knew he’d lucked out on finding Kevin and this liger.
After zooming home, Hugo leaped through a second-floor window into his bedroom. Sione was downstairs with AJ watching Extreme Dreams. He loafed around watching TV a lot nowadays.
Hugo’s charred clothing and griminess would draw questions from Sione. He fished out his secondary cell from his desk drawer and made a call.
“Hi,” Hugo greeted. “I need your help.”
On the other end, Quinn Bauer chuckled. “Ironically, I was about to call for the same reason.”
Chapter 22
“Thanks, Martin.” Missy Magnificent acknowledged the coffee barista at the register with a megawatt smile. She snatched two steaming cups from the countertop, handing one to Quinn. “A Magnificent Mocha Latte from Central Cali Coffee, the best coffee in San Miguel.”
As they strolled from the busy cafe, Quinn drew her navy-blue peacoat closer around her frame. This gave Quinn flashbacks of morning coffee runs with Annie after wild nights of college bar crawling. Those coffee runs weren't with a teen superhero, her entourage, a videographer in front, or a van recording secondary footage.
Colin walked ahead of Quinn and Missy, recording their conversation. Shelley, another videographer, sat in the truck with Jess Richardson-Palmer recording different angles. Morning washed over the Junction in fiery waves, exposing dilapidated or unfinished buildings.
“Patrolling is so important in protecting a community,” Missy continued, sipping her latte with relish. “Making sure they see and know you.”
Quinn warily studied her surroundings while Missy preached about the Junction's positives. She was amazed by Missy’s spryness after last night’s partying downtown. The bender had been triggered by Quinn playing her the Extreme Teens interviews. To say Missy hadn’t enjoyed them was an understatement.
Missy wore her brand-new costume: sparkly black unitard showing lots of leg. The matching long-sleeve jacket had a hood drawn halfway over her head of wavy blonde hair. It paid homage to Missy’s old costumes but with a more mature edge.
Missy waved at someone she recognized across the street. “Morning, Harold!”
“Fuck you, princess!” Harold spat while sweeping his storefront.
Missy, unfazed, turned to Quinn with a wider smile. “See? A real connection!”
Quinn nearly choked on her coffee. From her viewpoint, many Junction residents didn’t care. A few like Harold were openly hostile. But from coverage she’d done two days prior, some were hopeful that Missy’s notoriety would elevate the Junction.
Another voice chimed in on Missy’s left. “Missy is shedding OWE's candy-coated corporate image,” said Missy’s manager and husband, Montgomery Major. “I know what she’s capable of. Now the world will meet the real Missy Magnificent.” He leaned in with his thin lips on a ratty face to kiss Missy.
Now Quinn nearly choked back vomit. Since day one, Missy and her husband had been inseparable. Quinn had felt instant dislike. Monty, as he nicknamed himself, had fuzzy patches from the beard he couldn’t grow and longish hair pulled back in a ponytail. The tacky technicolor suit hung off his rail-thin body. With a lame power to change any object’s color, Quinn wasn’t surprised Monty had failed as a superhero. And how he leered at Missy like property made Quinn’s skin crawl.
She steeled her aversion away, focusing on Missy. “Whose idea was it to protect the Junction?”
Monty spoke before Missy opened her mouth. “We chose together.” He draped a possessive arm around Missy. “We're a team.” The superhero nodded sycophantically.
From one puppeteer to another. That saddened Quinn. “You could protect any major city in America. Why the Junction, Missy?” she added, marking who the question was for.
After Monty’s approving nod, Missy spoke. “My journey mirrors that of the Junction’s.” She swept an arm at the decrepit buildings around them, many with bustling businesses. Missy smiled with genuine affection. “We can heal each other’s wounds.”
Quinn rubbed her hands. “You and I watched the comments made by your former teammates.” Yes, the topic was salacious, but the Extreme Teens were part of Missy’s history, and the acrimony would draw in viewers/readers. “Any response?”
Missy’s face darkened instantly. “Most are correct,” she confirmed, to Quinn’s shock. “I was unhappy, burnt out, and in a bad place. That negativity made me a liability to my team.” She raised a finger, smirking impishly. “But Sunrider still sucks.” That drew snickers from Monty and the three flacks behind them.
Quinn couldn’t help smiling at Missy’s pettiness. She clearly had no love for her Extreme Teens replacement. Quinn might dig into that further.
“Speaking of suck…” Missy whipped out her cell, pulling Quinn close. “Let’s do a proper superhero selfie.” Wearing that famous megawatt smile, the teen snapped a few selfies with Quinn.
Once satisfied with her chosen selfie, Missy posted on social media. Quinn observed in amusement before changing topics. “Jamie Goldstein discovered you. Did she and OWE try helping your issues?”
Missy shrugged sullenly. “Jamie tried mothering me sometimes.” Her expression tensed. “Mostly, she was another soulless OWE puppet who saw dollar signs instead of children. Johnny Truelove was a dick, but he never lied about what OWE is.” Her blue eyes burned. “The Devil’s asshole.”
They turned a corner as Missy continued ranting. “OWE controlled us. We never got normal lives. And I know what we signed up for. But that high school prom Blur and I crashed on his sixteenth birthday? He wanted to experience a real school dance. We just work, work, work. If we’re not fighting criminals, it’s publicity, charity appearances, and OWE TV shows. Then films and music albums.” Missy rolled her eyes, tossing her empty cup into a nearby trashcan. “God, I hated doing those albums.”
Quinn didn’t blame her. Countless brain cells were lost listening to Missy’s albums for research. But those albums had dominated music charts for weeks thanks to OWE’s promotional machine and Missy’s fanbase, the Missyfits. “Any thoughts on Blur’s message?”
Missy chuckled, while Monty openly seethed. “I wish L.U.N.A. luck with Luke’s moon-sized ego,” Missy managed between giggles. The sun climbed higher, sparkling off her costume. “I hope the girl realizes that she can keep fucking Blur without letting him ‘rap’ on her albums.”
Monty and Missy’s cronies burst out laughing. Quinn giggled. She couldn’t help it.
Then Monty froze, touching his left earpiece. “We got something!” Missy’s eyes gleamed eagerly.
Quinn glanced between the spouses. “What’s going on?”
“Seven blocks away,” Monty announced. “Some super whose been menacing store-owners.”
Missy rubbed her hands together. “Watch me make another asshole famous.” Missy crouched briefly before exploding off the ground in a bounding leap. Landing a block away, she jumped again until she disappeared into the distant clusters of de
crepit buildings. Superleaping was one of Missy’s powers, along with enhanced strength, durability, and firework bursts.
Quinn’s heartbeat quickened. Time to see if Missy could bring it. “Where is the robbery happening?” she asked Monty as he and Missy’s cronies entered the van.
“Lomata and Main,” he threw back over his shoulder.
Quinn and Colin exchanged a knowing look before following Monty. The reporter let Colin enter first while she whipped out her phone.
ME: Lomata and Main.
By the time she’d entered the car and buckled in, Quinn got a response.
HeroBoy: 4 minutes.
Quinn felt relief and disgust. But after how trashed Missy had gotten last night, a contingency was needed. Colin and Shelley sat hunched before two laptops. They had five drones hovering above the Junction. Quinn peeked over Colin’s shoulder at many screens recording Missy’s leaps toward the crime.
Shelley nodded, adjusting her glasses. “Drones are following Missy.”
Jess put away her cell. “The police are on their way.”
Quinn pointed at one screen. “There’s the robber.” Panic seized her. “He’s huge!”
A beastly man erupted out from one of the stores, at least seven feet tall, blue-skinned, and built like a brahma bull, showering broken glass in his wake. He shook his wild orange mane free of debris, hoisting a bag of money and goods high. Bystanders screamed and scattered from his monstrous presence. Quinn had never seen him before, but he didn’t look like a pushover.
Jess was clapping eagerly. “This is so exciting,” she gushed at Quinn.
Monty gave her a smug nod. “Watch Missy handle this guy.”
Quinn stayed focused on the screens. Why wasn’t this criminal getting out of Dodge? Missy came sailing into the frame, landing on a knee. The impact shuddered the frame a bit.
A new text startled Quinn from her fixation. She glanced at her cell, shoulders sagging in relief.
HeroBoy: Here. Let me know when to step in.
ME: Will do.
Missy rose to her full height and raised a hand like some crossing guard. Bystanders either gathered around the fringes or exited stores to watch. The likely collateral damage unsettled Quinn.
