Hero Least Likely Series (Book 2): Van Houten Rising

by Michelinie, Jessica

  “For your information,” I mumble through a mouthful of eggplant and bell peppers, “plebeians like us don’t get invited to the Met Gala.” I swallow and take a long sip of beer. I’m finally starting to relax a little. Van Houten is far, far away from my mind. “We were at a benefit dance thing for Alex’s work. She’s a detective.” Alex’s high-heeled foot rubs gently up against my shin and a shiver goes down my spine. I suddenly wish my little sister wasn’t in town and that Alex and I could retire to my bedroom for a bit of privacy.

  “A dance?!” Casey suddenly shrieks, laughter dripping from every word. “And she’s still dating you? Wow, have you been taking lessons, or something?”

  Alex gives me a questioning smile. I take a deep breath. Why did I invite my little sister to stay with me for the summer again? “I can’t... I just... don’t. Dance. I don’t really...” I stop sputtering at Alex and glare at Casey, “There was no dancing, okay? We didn’t dance.” I turn back to Alex. “But, that doesn’t mean–I mean, I would love to dance with you, I just...”

  Casey is cackling.

  “Whatever.” I give up.

  Alex laughs along with my demon sister and gives my leg another caress with her foot.

  “I guess I’m going to need to see you dance, now.” Alex notes. “One day soon, hopefully.”

  “Thin ice.” I mutter to Casey.

  “Nice to see you too, sis.”

  Chapter Three

  “...nano-tech body armor. Lighter than plastic, stronger than steel. Completely bulletproof and as thin as spandex. It tracks biological and health data and sends it remotely to our databases for analysis and monitoring. Van Houten is Now. Van Houten is the Future.”

  Van Houten is now? Could they come up with a worse catch-phrase?

  This stupid press conference is playing on repeat. I feel like every channel has been obsessing over it today. Van Houten’s face and name is suddenly everywhere I go, as if I couldn’t keep my mind off of him already. It’s like one day I had never heard of this billionaire genius, and the next he’s the new Mark Zuckerberg. There’s subway ads for Van Houten Industries now. Newspaper headlines and tweets obsessing over his $200 million dollar penthouse on Park Ave, his brand-new cloned Italian Greyhounds, what goddamn brand of clarified butter he puts in his coffee every morning. It’s insane.

  “Ma’am.”

  I mean, seriously. Van Houten looks like he walked straight out of Revenge of the Nerds. Not that that’s a bad thing, I just don’t get what the big deal is. Sure, he’s rich. He’s got stuff. So, what?

  “Excuse me, Ma’am.”

  I gotta admit the nanotech body armor does look pretty cool. I would love to get my hands on some of that bulletproof–

  “Ma’am!”

  I jolt back into reality. Oh. Right. I have a bad habit of getting lost in my thoughts while waiting in lines.

  “What do you want?”

  “Yeah, sorry, uh, large coffee. Black.” I slip the guy at the counter a few extra dollars for having to deal with my attention deficit and step out of the growing line of caffeine-deprived Brooklyn-ites. I turn my attention back to the television hanging in the corner of the bodega.

  A couple of beat cops are being fitted with the armor he demoed at the benefit dance a couple weeks ago. They look like little kids on Christmas as the armor suctions onto their chest and spreads itself all down their limbs.

  I grab my coffee from the counter when the clerk sets it down.

  “Can you believe this guy?” A middle-aged woman in scrubs mutters to me as she digs in the fridge behind me for two giant-sized Red Bulls. “Worth a billion dollars by the time he’s eighteen.”

  “No shit?” I ask, pulling my gaze away from the television screen.

  “Some people got all the luck.” She says as she gets in the back of the line.

  Somehow, I don’t feel like luck is what got Tate Van Houten where he is today...

  I down my coffee as I head up the street and duck into a shadowed alley. I change quickly into my Metalia gear, stuff my civilian clothes into my backpack, and stash it underneath a huge metal dumpster. Since I’m currently jobless, I’ve started patrolling in the daytime. I’m a little worried that Casey will pry and try to figure out what I’m up to during the day since I no longer work at Griffin’s. I’ve been telling her I’m volunteering at an animal shelter and so far she hasn’t had too many questions.

  I haven’t patrolled much during the daytime before, though. Not saying that crime doesn’t happen out in the sun or anything, but I’m not really sure what I can do. Maybe help old ladies across the street or find lost dogs or something.

  I hop back and forth between the two buildings in the alley, jumping from wall to wall, pushing off hard with my feet and magnetizing myself to the next surface. It’s a rhythm, bouncing back and forth. I’ve gotten a lot more coordinated in the last few months since I first got my powers. Maybe soon I can do a backflip.

  I settle onto my rooftop perch, sitting down on the ledge and hanging my feet over. I’ve got a good view of the three surrounding blocks and all’s well, it seems.

  I sip on my coffee and pull out my phone. No twitter calls for help. No nothing. It’s kind of nice being up here all on my own. I wave down at a couple of kids who notice me from the ground. You know, maybe it’s for the best I got fired. I mean, there’s still that problem of getting paid, but maybe this way I can focus on Metalia as a full-time gig. City of eight million people could use a full-time protector.

  Suddenly, something shakes the ground, hard. Like, not earthquake hard, but maybe sinkhole hard. Or construction gone wrong hard. I get to my feet and peer around but I can’t see any cause for the commotion. Why did I have to think ‘all’s well’? I clearly jinxed myself and made things very unwell.

  The shaking happens again. I can follow it, maybe. I hop to the adjacent roof, jogging east along the rooftop. People on the ground are looking around for the source of the sudden tectonic sensation as well.

  I see a cloud of dust settling around the front doors of the York City Bank down below me across the street. What the...?

  I hop down and land on a fire escape then zip down to a parked moving truck, and onto the street below. I approach the bank slowly. No one’s coming in or going out, but passersby are starting to realize where the shaking is coming from. I motion for a few people to stand back.

  As the dust settles, I see that the front door of the bank is missing. Not only is it missing, but a human-size hole is where the door should be. Someone... ran straight through the glass? How is that even possible? Alright, enough talking to myself.

  I sprint inside. A bunch of bank tellers and loan officers are cowering beneath their desks. Doesn’t look like anyone is hurt, thankfully. I look over to where their gazes are all pointed and my mouth goes into a small ‘o’ shape.

  A massive boulder of a man is standing in front of the fortified bank vault and ramming his head into the steel door oh my god what is my life?

  “Hey, buddy!” I yell to him, “Might have more luck with the handle?”

  He whips around like a giant crane and I have to hold back a laugh.

  He’s wearing a helmet with a hole cut out for his face and adorned with two steel bull horns on each side. Please tell me he’s come up with a more creative name than The Bull.

  I don’t hesitate and send an energy blast at him from both of my hands. He stumbles backwards and–

  Seriously? He stamps his foot. Like an actual bull.

  “I’ll crush your bones into dust!” He bellows. Better get out of this enclosed space or we’ll be in a literal bull in a china shop situation.

  I turn and sprint back the way I came, hoping he’ll leave the bank employees alone and keep his attention on me. I run towards a residential building and position myself just in front of the fire escape so I can jump onto it for a quick getaway. People are starting to take notice of the two costumed freaks about to duke it out in front of their homes. As usu
al, phones come out, and I’m thinking I’ll have quite a few Twitter mentions very soon.

  “Who the hell are you...?” I mutter as I wait for him to catch up.

  This guy is slow, so I’ve got the advantage on him there. He’s also dumb. Like, really dumb. I mean, I caught him trying to break into a bank vault with his head. Go figure.

  “Alright, Bull, come and get me, I’m all yours!” I yell as he comes flying out of the bank after me. I stand up and hold my arms out so he can’t miss me.

  He dips his head low as he sprints down the street. As he gets closer and I get a better look at him, I see that his armor is black and shimmering a little in the light. No way. Is that Van Houten armor, too!? Okay, we’re officially in conspiracy mode now. Something is definitely going on between Van Houten Industries and these common criminals.

  The Bull is about teen feet away from me when I push off from the ground hard and jump onto the scaffolding clinging to the apartment building behind me.

  “Oops, you missed! Wanna try again?” He looks enraged as he stumbles forward, whirling around and around looking for me. I think his helmet prevents him from looking up.

  “Rgggghhh, where are you?!” He screams.

  Jesus, this guy is a dolt. I’m kind of missing the days when Diana Gershwin was my nemesis. From where I’m standing on the scaffolding I thrust my hands out towards the bus shelter beneath me and pull it up from the ground. Then, I propel my hands forward and the huge metal structure knocks into him, toppling him down to the ground like a row of bowling pins. He struggles under the shelter while I jump down to the ground and send a few more magnetic blasts at him. He jerks with each hit as the shelter magnetizes itself to him and pins him beneath it in the center of the street.

  I jump down from my perch and stand straight over him. I take a good look at this armor again. It’s nice, like way nicer than my upgraded polycarbonate suit Shia made for me a few months ago. And it is definitely Van Houten. The material seems to wash away, deteriorating in front of my eyes as his helmet suddenly disappears.

  “Where’d you get this armor?” I demand.

  Bull grumbles and struggles beneath the weight of the shelter. “Wouldn’t you like to know?!”

  “Yeah, I would really like to know. Is this Van Houten armor?!”

  Bull is laughing, chortling up at me like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard, but he refuses to say more. Just like fireball lady last week. I hear an onslaught of sirens heading this way. Damn. I’m out of time.

  I jump over to the nearest fire escape and climb up to its roof. I’m shadowed by the electric box and steam stacks up here. I stand and lean against them as the red and blue lights come pouring down the street.

  There’s at least six cop cars, and then a couple of unmarked Crown Victorias. One of those, no doubt, is Alex. I watch as the car pulls up to the bank and that familiar head of sandy blonde hair climbs out of the driver’s seat. Cameron, her partner whom I’ve still yet to meet, follows suit from the passenger seat. I watch her as she surveils the scene and directs a few of the other cops on what to do. She looks up towards the rooftops every few moments. I think she’s looking for me.

  I feel a stab of guilt somewhere near my esophagus. I kind of went solo on this one and Fireball. I normally radio in to her and Shia whenever I’ve got criminal activity, but this guy was no run of the mill burglar. He was like... me. Costumed. And clearly he was way more dangerous. I just figured I could handle it on my own and my friends could stay safe and sound. Was Gershwin right when she publicly lambasted me? Does being a superhero attract supervillains?

  I hop quietly downward until I’m standing on the first floor fire escape. I lean against the railing and wait for Alex to notice me. Eventually, she looks over her shoulder at the right place and meanders slowly towards me. Cops in her precinct know that she’s

  “Very vampiric of you, hiding in the shadows like that.” Her smile always lights me up from within. I can’t help but smile crookedly back at her. “So, what the hell happened here?”

  “I... have no idea. He was trying to break into York City Bank’s vault. Wasn’t using the typical methods though. He was, uh, using his horns. I don’t know what the plan was.”

  Alex chews on her bottom lip, her nose wrinkling a little bit when she’s deep in thought. “And decked head to toe in Van Houten armor. That doesn’t bode well. We’ll run a search and see if he has any connections to police departments in the area. The only way he could have gotten hold of it is if he’s a cop. They’ve just started rolling out the new armor in the 33rd precinct. Maybe it’s from there.”

  “Yeah, good think–hey, wait, how’d you know he’s wearing Van Houten’s armor?”

  Alex gives me a smirk out of the side of her lips. She can’t help but sent a wink up at me as well. Whew. My legs are going to buckle if she gets anymore suggestive. “I’m a trained detective, remember? Noticing things is what I do.”

  “Right.” I’m glad she can’t see how big my smile is beneath my mask.

  Then, despite the levity of our conversation, her face starts to fall. “Hey, um... why didn’t you call for backup? Winter Warrior and Nitehawk... your team.”

  And there’s that pesky guilt again. I clear my throat, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, I-I was going to, but... It all happened really quick, and I was going to but it was sort of over before it really started.”

  Alex nods once, and I think my answer is enough for her. I hope. “Like the Fireball lady.” She says. “I’ll see you later.” She mouths to me before turning and heading back towards the crime scene.

  Did I mess up? I think I might have messed up. I should have let them know what was going on. But really, what’s the point? I call Shia for techie help or if I need answers fast. And Alex I call if I’m in serious need of backup, or once I’ve got my perp. I just had it handled on my own. Is that so bad?

  I watch Alex meander around the crime scene for a few more minutes. I guess I need to head back home at some point to get some quality sister time in with Casey. Between my Metalia duties and pretending live I’ve got stuff to do everyday, I haven’t gotten much time with little sis. I’ll make one more quick sweep through the neighborhood before heading home, just to quell my growing worries that there’s an army of costumed criminals parading the streets in impenetrable armor. Maybe later I can catch up with Alex and grovel at her feet or something.

  The streets are quiet for the most part as I patrol along the perimeter of my neighborhood. I hop along through the upper levels of the streets, occasionally startling pedestrians waiting for the bus or perusing produce at their local markets. Guess I’m worried over nothing. The Bull could be part of a bigger problem, but for now he’s just one guy being hauled off to the big house. Why do they call it the big house anyway?

  Every other thought I have is of Alex. I know that she can take care of herself, but I don’t want to involve her unnecessarily in any potential danger. It’s like the more and more I fall in love with her, the less I’m willing to risk her safety. We’ve been doing this whole crime-fighting team for a few months now, and it’s going really well, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to her. Something that I dragged her into.

  Alex also doesn’t know what it’s like, having lost both my parents when I was a kid. I know that death is inevitable. It’s a part of life, or whatever. But the thought of losing someone else close to me is terrifying. It’s like I’m more afraid of losing someone now because I know what it’s like than I was before I had lost my parents. That probably wouldn’t make sense to anyone other than me, and maybe Casey. Wonder if there’s any superhero shrinks in the city. Wouldn’t surprise me.

  I’m used to hopping in through my bedroom window in full Metalia regalia, but since Casey is hanging around this summer, I have to go back into incognito mode. That means getting naked in the alleyway behind my house. Cool.

  I make quick work of grabbing my backpack from underneath the dumpster
and fishing out my clothes. Praying to the NYC gods above that no one walks by, I very quickly shove my legs into my pants, throw on my shirt, and shove the suit into my bag. I keep the leather jacket on, throw my backpack over my shoulder, and jog inside.

  Our apartment is quiet when I get in, save for the thrum of the television. “Hey,” I call, “It’s me.”

  Casey is sitting at the kitchen table reading through a criminally large book. She glances up briefly, “Hi.”

  I toss my backpack into my room and move to join her at the table. “You hungry? Whatcha been up to? What’s that?” I inundate her with more questions than she can answer in a single breath which earns me an annoyed glare. I grin wolfishly back at her.

  “I’m starving. I’ve been reading this all day. It’s a summer assignment.”

  “Summer assignment? That’s not college, that’s torture.” I get up from my seat just as quickly as I sat down in it and start my typical fridge raiding.

  “Learning is a lifelong process, Marie. It doesn’t end when you finish school.” Marie playfully scolds me.

  “Hm. Guess I missed that memo. I’m going to cook and prove to you I’m not a witless monkey, how about that?”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.” A beat goes by and I assume she’s head-first back in her book. Then, her voice is small as she speaks up again. “How about... Dad’s Fettuccine Alfredo recipe?”

  My heart does a little tightening squirming dancing thing. Feels weird. Not bad, not good. Just... weird. I pull my head out from the fridge and look over my shoulder. Casey looks like she’s five years old again. She’s trying to look serious and smart and adult-ish, but I recognize the swirl of aged grief and longing in her eyes.

  “Good idea.” I say with a small nod. “You know, I’m really glad you’re here, Casey. I’ve missed you. Don’t tell anyone I said that. I’ll never say it again, but... it’s true.” I grab a chunk of parmesan from the fridge, dig for my microplane in the drawer, and get to grating a mountainous pile of cheese.