HERO LEAST LIKELY 2:
VAN HOUTEN RISING
BY
JESSICA MICHELINIE
Copyright © 2019 Jessica Michelinie
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Chapter One
“In the darkest shadows of the city, she lurks. Haunted by a tragic past, she seeks to avenge her lost family. When trouble arises, the innocent citizens of this city need only shout her name, and she shall appear...”
Everyone talks to themselves, right? Maybe not everyone narrates their life, but you know, not everyone is a superhero, so whatever. Besides, I think I’ve got a life worth narrating. I spend most nights parading around the rooftops of Brooklyn in a polycarbonate onesie shooting magnetic power blasts at everyday criminals. I have adoring fans, people who think I stink and hate my guts, and people who think I’m just another quirk in this beautiful mess that is New York City. So, yeah, I think that qualifies for some occasional voice-over.
“Ckkkttt... Metalia, come in. This is Nitehawk, over.” My earpiece buzzes and my eternal confidant, roomate, and platonic life partner Shia’s voice comes streaming through the tiny speaker nestled in my ear.
“You’re coming in loud and clear, Nitehawk. What’s up?”
“Ckkkttt...I’m at the bodega now. Chocolate chunk or mint chip?”
“Oooh. Chocolate chunk. But if they’ve got that salted caramel you got last time then I want that.” I confirm. Balancing everyday life with superhero stuff is easy when you’ve got friends to pick up the ice cream.
“Ckkkttt...Hey team, I thought we agreed only crime-fighting talk on the comms?” Alex buzzes in and like each and every time I hear her voice, I melt. Just the sound of my wonderful, sweet detective girlfriend’s voice always makes me happy.
“Well, I would argue that this conversation is extremely relevant to crime-fighting ‘cause we don’t have anything sweet at home, and how am I going to relax after a long night of criminal chasing if I–”
“Ccckkkttt...Okay, sweet-tooth, I get it. Ice-cream talk is allowed on the comms, so long as you share.”
“Cccckkkttt...Also,” Shia pipes up, “Comms are way easier than picking up the phone.”
“Ccckkttt... Roger that, Nitehawk. Speaking of relaxation, when are you going to call it a night, Metalia? You’ve been on patrol for...almost seven hours now.”
Whoa. I pull my phone out of its special inlay-pocket on my suit and check the time. Holy-moly, Alex is right. It’s almost two AM. I guess I am pretty pooped after a night of cavorting around the neighborhood. Surprisingly little action tonight outside of those arson-happy teenagers and the old lady who needed help carrying her groceries. “I guess I should pack it in. Haven’t had much activity in the last–whoops. Spoke too soon. Back with you in a sec, guys. Looks like an assault down on Fulton.”
Down on the street below me a couple of angry voices fill the still air. I can’t quite see where they’re coming from, but from my perch on the corner of an apartment building roof, I can see some shadows playing across the sidewalk near an entrance to an underground parking garage next to the bodega. Whoever is down there causing a ruckus must be underneath the awning or around the corner by the alleyway. I shift a little further down on the roof I’m perched on, tilting my head down to get a better look. Isn’t that just my luck? As soon as I decide it’s me time, some criminal has gotta go and do something stupid. Oh, well. All part of the job.
The two figures are struggling, wrestling down to the ground in what looks like a pretty one-sided fight. Well, that’s my cue. I dive downward into the air with my palms outstretched. A blast of magnetic energy ripples out from my hands, slowing my fall and letting me land on both feet without shattering my ankles. I stampede towards the fighting figures, each of them growling and grunting as they try and take the other down.
“Winter Warrior, might want to get ready for an arrest.” I say into the mouthpiece on the inside of my hood. “I’m taking our perp down right... about...”
I’m within inches of him, reaching out, my fingers almost grazing him–
But instead of grabbing onto the assailant’s back, I’m grabbing into something pliant and squishy. What the–?
“Save yourself, young maiden! Let the Masked Knight take care of this criminal!”
Before I can reach my guy, a man wearing a shower curtain as a cape is inserting himself between me and the perps.
“Maiden?” I mutter. I get a good look at the backside of this clown before I almost run into him. He’s wearing a black jumpsuit and a white bandana around his face with holes cut out for the eyes. With his hands on his hips, he gives the two fighting men a glare and makes a growling noise in the back of his throat, like that’s gonna scare them off or something.
“...Metalia? Did you get him?” I hear Alex’s voice buzzing through my earpiece.
“Uh... I’ll get back to you on that.” I sputter. “Just give me a sec.” I murmur back into the mouthpiece.
What the hell is happening?
“Forget this. Buncha’ costumed freaks. I’m outta here!” The assailant, suddenly taking notice of me and the new guy, clamors off his victim and takes off sprinting down the street. I have a mind to go after him, but I have a feeling the Masked Knight is who really needs my attention right now.
“Alright, I’m going to let it slide that you just lost me my criminal because you seem really new at this. Who the hell are you and what are you doing in that... shower curtain?” I demand, crossing my arms over my chest and circling around the masked mystery man.
“Metalia!” The Masked Knight gasps at me as I whirl him around to face me. He can’t be younger than forty or so and he looks like one of those overworked office-types with a little beer belly and some facial hair gristle. “I didn’t know it was you! I... oh my god, it’s really you!”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s me. Less grovel, more answers. Who are you?”
“Oh, right. Right. I’m, um, well,” He puts his fists on his hips and tilts his chin up to the sky. “The Masked Knight.”
I cut him off before he can do anymore poses. “Okay, okay. I get it. What are you doing out here? I was about to grab that guy, you got in my way.”
“Well, I’m-I’m protecting the city, like you. Guarding the neighborhood from criminals and–”
Oh, god. No. No, this can’t be happening. Am I responsible for this? Superhero copycats? “No. No, no, no. Tell me something, Masked Knight, do you have any superpowers?”
“Well, no–” He stammers.
“Got any kind of armor other than that piece of plastic wrapped around your neck?”
“No, I just–”
“You want to help, I’m guessing?”
He nods vigorously at me. “Okay, then the best thing you can do is to keep yourself safe. Preferably somewhere warm and without a lot of sharp corners or edges, like inside. Being a superhero isn’t all fun and games. It’s dangerous work. Every night I do this I’m risking my life. But the difference between you and me is I’m not risking as much as you are. I’ve got some help from my powers–”
“Hey Knight, did you get him?!” Another voice rings out from behind me. Female, I think. Jesus, what now? I turn around and a long, heavy sigh leaves me at the sight of four other crappily-costumed ‘heroes’ running out of the alleyway. Is this like... my fanclub or something? “We couldn’t keep up! Really need to practice more sprints, and–oh my god, it’s her! It’s Metalia!”
“Don’t be mad, Metalia.” The Masked Knight begs up at me. “We’re just so inspire
d by the work you’ve been doing. You inspire us to be just like you. To risk our lives every night for the safety of our city!” The Masked Knight claps me on the back and puts an arm around my shoulder. “Guys! Get a picture of me and Metalia!”
“Hey, wait–” I try to protest, but a woman in purple tutu wearing the top half of a milk carton on her head has already got her cell-phone out and pointed at me and the Masked Knight.
“Say crime doesn’t pay!”
The flash blinds me in the dark of the street and I finally pull away from the shower-curtain hero. “Look, I... I appreciate it, really. But, you can’t do this. You’re going to get hurt–”
“Ccckkktt... Metalia, come in. This is Nitehawk. What the hell is going on down there? You having a party or something?”
Okay, this is getting really weird. And I have to pee. I’m out of here.
“Just be careful!” I call down at the dress-up squad as I use my powers to jump up to the third story fire escape on the apartment behind me. From there, I push off from the wall and levitate over to the top of a lightpost, then onward to the rooftop beside it. I don’t do well with idolatry, crowds, or chaos. Besides, I didn’t become Metalia to babysit a bunch of newbie heroes.
I take a moment to press my earpiece further into my ear. “Hey Nitehawk, Winter Warrior... it’s me. Sorry about that, got bombarded by a bunch of adults playing dress-up.”
“Ccckkttt... And... we’re supposed to know what that means how?” I can hear Shia’s smirk from miles away.
“Got a bunch of costumed ‘heroes’ wanting to play in the big leagues, I guess. I just met The Masked Knight and... The Milky Ballerina, or something.”
“Ccckkktt....You know, I think those are called super-fans. Are they stalking you? Cause then they’re a stan.” Alex asks.
“No, no stalking.” A wave of paranoia hits me as I look over my shoulder, but as expected, there’s no way they could have followed me up here. They’re still on the ground chatting it up about their run-in with the real life Metalia. “Just your run-of-the-mill imitation as flattery.”
“Ccckkktt... Well, I think you should feel admired. That’s sweet, isn’t it?” Alex
“I don’t know,” I say, looking over the edge of the roof at the group of them still standing in the middle of the street. “They cost me my perp. And I don’t want to be held liable if one of them breaks their neck on the job. Anyway, I think I’m done here tonight. Not much going on, unfortunately. Or, fortunately, I guess.”
“Ccckkttt... Whoo! Okay, work’s over. Party time. I don’t care what time it is. This is New York City, people. We can sleep when we’re dead.” Shia demands.
Alex whoops in agreement. “Ccckkttt... Meet at the usual spot? I could really use a gin and tonic after the day I’ve had.”
“See you there. Metalia, out.” I can’t help but laugh to myself as I vault across the distance between this roof and the next. We’re total nerds with those comms. I’m about to zip across the street to a billboard about twenty feet away when a strange sensation suddenly comes over me. I feel like I’m being watched.
I stop myself a couple of feet from the roof ledge and look around. Okay, I’m just freaking myself out. It’s nothing. I take a couple steps backwards then jog to the edge of the roof and propel myself off of the edge. I hold my hands out and feel the power inside of me welling up and leaving me, connecting me to the edge of the billboard and zipping my body up and across the street. I land a little wobbly, but upright.
Shia, Alex, and I have started this tradition of hitting up arguably the best dive bar in the tri-state area after patrols. Once a week or so we’ll celebrate a stopped robbery or a captured assailant with a couple of drinks and some jukebox classics. It’s kind of crazy how much laughing with your friends can heal. Whiskey, too. Whiskey is very healing.
I slip down to the roof and hold my left palm up at the backpack I’ve stashed behind the billboard. It comes zooming away from its hiding spot and into my arms. The trouble this neighborhood has been having with gangs recently has been a little scary, so I’ve shifted my patrols away from my neighborhood further north for now. Thanks to this change in scenery, I’ve found a slightly more sanitary place to hide my street clothes instead of that dumpster behind my building.
I dress in the cover of darkness, shadowed by the taller building beside me. I pull on a black t-shirt, black jeans, and throw on a dark jean jacket. Then, I stuff the Metalia clothes into my backpack and I’m good to go. I take the rooftop stairs down into the building whose roof I’ve been using as a homebase. Smells like shrimp and curry. Must be a restaurant on the ground floor. Damn, I’m hungry. Definitely going to grab some cheese fries at the bar. I jog down the three flights of stairs and shoulder my way out the door and down to the street.
Ah, I love this city. It’s finally starting to get warm again and while the lack of freezing cold will be nice, I guess I’m not so excited about the impending smell of hot garbage that always comes with summer.
A ten minute walk later, I push open the peeling, faded black door of Deuce’s with my backpack slung over my shoulder. The Stooges are playing on the jukebox, it smells like old cigarette smoke, and the lights are low. My home away from home. I hear Shia’s voice before I see her, her raucous laugh reverberating over Iggy Pop’s wails. I follow her voice to the back booth in the corner.
“Heeeeeeeey, there she is! Met–I mean, Marie!” Shia greets me.
I roll my eyes but can’t keep a smile off my face as I slide into the booth next to Alex. She hands me a glass of my favorite caramel colored liquor. “For you.” She purrs.
“Oh, god, thank you.” I steal a kiss from her before taking a long swallow from the glass. “Tough night, you guys.”
“Oh, it wasn’t so bad. You almost got the guy.” Shia says, spinning the plastic straw around in her glass. “So, you think you got competition in the super-hero game?”
I shoot Shia a warning look for saying the word ‘superhero’ too loudly, but oblige her. “Competition? Hard no.” I take another swallow of whiskey, my insides warming from the rush of liquid. “They, uh... I’m worried for them more than anything. One guy was wearing a shower curtain for a cape.”
“Hm,” Alex smiles a little, sipping from her beer and reaching over to put a hand on my forearm. “Well, nothing much you can do about it, I suppose. If they want to fight crime, they’re going to fight crime. Kinda how NYPD feels about you.” She teases, pinching my arm a little.
“I guess. I know they just want to help, but they’re kinda distracting. If they get in the way of me and another criminal, I’m going to have to sideline them. Whatever that means.”
“Well, Metalia activities aside, you have any plans for next Saturday? NYPD is throwing some fancy-schmancy benefit fundraiser thing I’ve got to be at. Wanna get dressed up and skulk in the corner with me?” Alex asks, wiggling her eyebrows up at me.
A small laugh comes out of me and I smile stupidly at her. For a moment, I forget how to speak. I still can’t believe sometimes that this courageous, sweet, hilarious woman asks me out on dates. “Are you trying to get my secret identity revealed? Hanging out in a room full of cops... Sounds like a challenge. I’m in.”
“Aw,” Shia coos at us from across the table. “Good luck with that. Ms. Metal over here has some trouble in the sneaky department.”
“Hey,” Shia’s totally right, but a girl’s gotta defend herself. “I’m working on it. Oh! That reminds me, speaking of having to be sneaky, my little sister is coming into town for a few weeks while she’s on break from school. She’s got an internship at some tech thing, or something. I know we’ve got this whole super-team thing going on, but we really, really got to be careful around her.”
“Really? You don’t want little sis knowing what her big, bad sister has been up to? I’m sure she’s heard about. Whole country has heard about you.” Shia asks.
“I just... I mean, yeah, of course I want her to know, but... it’s too bi
g of a risk. She could blab. Or-or–”
“Marie, she’s nineteen, she’s not a baby anymore, she can handle it!”
“I know she can handle it, but you guys know how worried I am about you being involved and knowing–”
“And we can handle ourselves as well.” Alex assures me, looking to Shia for backup. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
I sigh and take another drink. I’m one of those worst-case scenario worriers and my mind easily gets filled up with images of Shia and Alex at the hands of some faceless nemeses. I already worry about them on a daily basis and I really don’t need an extra family member to add on top of that.
“I’ll think about it.” I concede, though in all honesty I probably won’t. My mind is made up. Casey shouldn’t know about my nighttime life. Not yet.
After two more rounds of liquid gold and some wasted quarters on an Elvira pinball machine, we wrap up the night and Alex and I part ways with Shia. Alex threads her fingers into mine and our shoulders brush as we meander down the street. A few cars stream past us and the dull sound of bass pumping out of a club a couple blocks away fills the air. I feel lazy and a little drunk and at peace. For the first time tonight, I’m not worrying about bodega muggers or mob family activity. I’m just me.
Alex is giggling to herself about something, sneaking glances over at me every few moments.
“What?” I prod, squeezing her hand.
“Nothing. Just thinking about Shower Cape Man, or whatever his name was. You’ve really made an impact, you know? People look up to you.”
I can’t really do much other than shrug. I know Alex is right, but I don’t like to think about those things much. I don’t feel like someone people should look up to. I feel like I’m just me. Just Marie. Sure, something extraordinary happened to me and I took on the responsibilities that I felt came with the territory, but that’s what anyone would do, right? “Yeah, well...”
Suddenly Alex’s lips are pressed up against mine and the ground feels like it’s left my feet. I smile into the kiss and pull her closer.
Hero Least Likely Series (Book 2): Van Houten Rising Page 1
