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

by Michelinie, Jessica

  “Yeah, well, same.” She says, like she’s trying to insult me, but it turns into a silly laugh. “That’s mom’s jacket, isn’t it?”

  I look down at myself. “Oh, yeah. Found it in my closet a few months ago, and...” I shrug. Neither of us needs any more reason than that. I do wonder if Casey has her suspicions about Metalia. I mean, she knows me better than anyone. She could recognize me from a thousand miles away. If she’s seen many pictures of Metalia it couldn’t be too hard for her to put two and two together. Then again, that may be my paranoia talking. She probably has no clue.

  “I know you’re Metalia.” I choke on a mouthful of water that was halfway down my throat. I’ve got to stop jinxing myself by thinking everything is okay.

  “Cccfffthhh, wha--at?” That wasn’t really a word that just came out of my mouth. More like the start of a seizure.

  “I said I know Alex is working with Metalia. The superhero.”

  I think I had a mini-heart attack there for a minute. Jesus. I must have just misheard her. Okay, play it cool. Act surprised, like that’s the big lie you’ve been keeping from her, but don’t be so obvious that she thinks there’s something else. I keep my back turned to her so she doesn’t see how twisted my face is right now. “Casey, h-how the hell did you figure that out?”

  “I saw her on television during that big news conference when they arrested the homicidal mayor lady last year. She had her arm around Metalia and was leading her away. Doesn’t that make you jealous? Don’t you think something could–”

  I stop her teasing by throwing an uncooked noodle at her. “Okay, okay. You figured it out. Good for you. But you’ve got to keep it a secret, okay? Seriously. Alex’s life is in danger anytime she’s around that Metalia chick, so... just don’t go blabbing that she knows her.”

  “What’s she like? Have YOU met her?” I have to admit I’m getting a surge of pride from Casey’s interest in Metalia. I guess I could tell her...

  “Well... no. Um, but I’ve seen her up close. Once.”

  “Up close. How up close?”

  “Like, really close! I saw her jump around on the roof across the street from Griffin’s.”

  Casey seems satisfied with this answer. She stops grilling me and returns back to her book. Man, I’ve really got to be on my A game around here. “I hope I get to meet her...”

  I stick the uncooked noodles in a pot of water and let the alfredo sauce simmer on the stove. Dropping back into my seat across from Casey, I bend my head down to look at the cover of her book. Black’s Law Dictionary 10th Edition. Yuck.

  “So, how long have you and Alex been together?” Casey asks, never looking up from the pages of the book.

  “Oh, um... I guess it’s been four months now.” That’s crazy to say out loud. As fast as it’s gone by, it’s easily been the best four months of my life.

  Casey nods silently, her eyes continuing to dart across the pages.

  “You like her?” I ask, unable to read my sister’s apparent poker face.

  Casey doesn’t respond for a moment. She turns the page, then brings her gaze up to me. “I think she’s probably the best thing you’ve got going right now.”

  “Was that a compliment from Casey Carter? Alert the press, she’s softening!” I tease, getting up to check on my sauce on the stove.

  Chapter Four

  “Ccckkkttt...Metalia, any activity?”

  “Nothing. All is quiet. Too quiet.” I‘m on the lookout for more perps decked out in Van Houten gear tonight, but there’s nothing, nobody. No tweets, no calls for help. Just a quiet night in the neighborhood.

  “Cckkktt... Well, let us know. I’ll just be here. At the ready. Waiting.” Shia says. I can hear the boredom in her voice. Wouldn’t put it past her if she called it a night and just shut the comms off.

  I flick through a few photos on my phone, deleting some unnecessary screencaps, overused memes, and drunkenly-saved GIFs. I scroll to a photo of me and Alex at Central Park a few months ago. I’m not much of a selfie person, but she insisted that we need photos together to prove that we were actually dating. That was a fun day. No superhero stuff, no police activity, just us. I keep scrolling, wondering if––

  “AHHHHHHHHH!” I’m suddenly careening towards the ground, flying in the air, no, propelled through the air by some force, spinning towards the ground, got to slow got to–

  I thrust my palms outwards about five milliseconds too late. My fall is slowed but my wrists take a major banging against the asphalt. Fuck fuck fuck I hope they’re not sprained. I roll over onto my back. Flying down towards me is another Van Houten armored asshole. This one’s whole head and face is covered by the helmet and they’re zipping towards me with the jetpack on the back whirring away like a small engine. Whoever it is, they’re going to hit me if they don’t slow down–!

  They skid to a stop just a few inches past my head. I hear garbled laughing through the helmet as I scramble to my feet. They pushed me. They fucking pushed me off of the roof.

  “Oooh, stick the landing next time, hero. Wouldn’t want your adoring fans seeing a fall like that, would you?” The helmet must be messing with the sound of its wearer’s voice because it sounds like a drunk robot is talking.

  “Who the hell are you?” I demand, I’m in no mood for playful banter. Whoever this is, they clearly mean dirty business.

  “Me? I’m the future of the city.”

  Before I can roll my eyes, the jet pack fires up again and they go flying into the air. They grab onto the edge of the roof and hold themself upright with one hand. Their elbow slams into the roof edge and a chunk of cement springs loose. It topples down to the ground towards me. I can tell I’m out of its range, but I back up a few steps to be certain.

  A rain of dust and smaller brick crumbles rains down on top of my head. I squeeze my eyes shut and cover my head as I duck down and push my face into my knees.

  Who the hell is this? This is definitely no weekend criminal like The Bull. He’s decked out in Van Houten gear, head to toe, but this top of the line stuff makes The Bull’s getup look like he picked it up at Party City.

  He rams his fist into the side of the building again. The brick cracks and falls away. Shit, shit, there’s a huge chunk heading down towards the sidewalk. I run backwards for a moment and shoot my arm out towards the falling piece. My magnesis catches it before it hits the ground. I swoop my arm in an arc and release the piece of brick up at him. It flies through the air and slaps him straight in the center of his face. It scratches the helmet as his neck slams backwards, but surprisingly it doesn’t crack. I hear him give out a groan of frustration.

  “Hey, why don’t you keep this between you and me, bud? Leave the people on the street out of this!” I yell up to him as I vault up to an empty balcony. While I’m mid-air I shoot a power-stream upwards and draw myself up to the roof of the building.

  His jetpack releases a puff of smoke as he zooms away further down the length of the roof. He’s baiting me, wanting me to chase after him. Okay, will do.

  As I get closer I can hear some kind of noise coming out of his helmet. It’s like an animalistic gargle, or the sound a raptor would make if it were choking.

  Oh. Oh, no. That’s the sound of laughter. He’s laughing maniacally.

  Okay, I have to admit to myself that I’m a little nervous. This guy isn’t trying to rob a bank or steal someone’s purse, which is my typical purview. He wants to hurt me.

  I give him one second too long while I’m deciding what my next move will be and he’s suddenly flying at me, hands outstretched. He rams into me so hard I feel the air knocked out of me. His gloved hand snakes out and tightens around my throat while I’m struggling to get to my feet.

  “So you’re the famous Metalia? Protector of the city streets! Guardian to the helpless innocents!”

  I’m struggling for breath, gasping in big mouthfuls of air. He’s psychotic. He’s actually trying to hurt me, not just get me out of his way.

  �
�I thought you’d be taller! You know, I’ve been very eager to meet you. I’ve been so curious about your powers. Tell me–”

  I cut him off with a kick to the inside of his thigh. For a moment, his hold around my neck falters. I scramble away from him, stumble to my feet and–

  My face meets the cement ground as he manages to catch me with a body-slamming tackle. God, I think something inside of me just broke. His hand once again closes around my neck and holds me in place.

  “I wouldn’t be so quick to run away, hero! I’ve got something to tell you that I think you’ll want to hear.” He lowers his helmet close to my face and the central panel dissolves away and reveals the wearer underneath.

  I feel like I’ve been hit with a sledgehammer. My whole world kind of goes sideways. I can hear fragments of words sputtering out of my mouth.

  Tate Van Houten. I’d recognize that scrawny, pale face anywhere now that he’s plastered all over the news and on the sides of buses and in subway stations. I think back to the night of the benefit dance when he was hovering so awkwardly around me. Is this violent self-absorbed asshole the same meek techie guy from the benefit dance? A cold splash of dread covers me. His eyes are wide and glassy and frantic now, but it’s him.

  “But––why... y-you...?”

  “Hold on a second there, Marie Carter.” My name. He knows my fucking name. Panic starts to well in my chest. If he knows my name, then he must know about everyone: Alex, Shia, Casey, where I work. I mean, used to work. No, no, god, this is bad. I struggle hard in his grip, but to no avail. This armor is giving him strength no human being should have. “That’s you under there, isn’t it? Oh, don’t look so surprised. I’ve got company resources. I’ve been surveilling your every move, watching you, trying to figure out who could be under that mask.”

  I cough, my hands gripping onto his over my throat. I have to get out of here. I have to find Alex and get everyone somewhere safe.

  “Running facial scans, scouring the media coverage of you. Imagine my disappointment when I found out it’s just a little girl under that mask. Playing dress-up.”

  I can’t move from beneath him. It feels like the weight of his armor adds at least two hundred pounds to him.

  “So, here’s the deal, little girl. You’re going to stay out of my way. Stay off of these streets, because they are mine now. You’re going to STOP all of your incipient crime-fighting and you’re going to return to your boring, insignificant little life that you had before you came into these undeserved powers. Do you understand?!”

  I struggle again, but I’m tiring out fast. My heart is clanging around inside of me so fast I think it might pop. “I-I’ll... never–”

  “Alexandra Winters! 224 Washington Ave. Shia Banks, Casey Carter, Griffin Lawre–”

  “Alright, alright!” I croak up at him. I can’t stand to hear their names coming out of his mouth. The names of the most important people in my life.

  Finally, he releases the hold on my neck and stands to his full height. He stares down at me like a bug he’s about to squash. “Metalia no more. Got it? Or there will be consequences.” His last word fades away as his jetpack whirrs to life and shoots him upward, leaving me broken and alone on this rooftop.

  There’s a very concerning popping noise in my lower back as I roll over onto my front. My legs tremble beneath the weight of my torso as I manage to get to my knees. I rub my hand over my throat with a grimace. There’s definitely going to be some bruising there and that will be really hard to explain to my sister.

  I’ve never been in shock before, but I think I might be close to it. I have so many questions spinning through my mind it’s making me dizzy. Or maybe almost being choked to death is making me dizzy. Either way, why is Tate Van Houten cavorting around the city in his own armor? Is he employing second-rate criminals to cause chaos? Is it meant to be a distraction from something else he’s doing?

  I grab onto the edge of a steel leg beneath the roof’s water tower and heave myself up to my feet. My breath is starting to come back at a normal rate, but I’m hurting. I try to take a few steps but a wave of exhaustion falls over me coupled with a wicked pain on my right side. I limp forward a little and squeeze my eyes shut for a moment.

  What do I do? Jesus, what do I do? Van Houten is stomping around Brooklyn in a combat military prototype just for the hell of it. He knows, god, he fucking knows who I am. I have to get home, have to find Alex, get her to a safe place.

  I look down at the palm of my hand, dusty and a little scraped, and try to tap into my power. The center of my hand buzzes slightly, but I feel tapped out. I think I’m too jostled to focus enough on my powers. I manage to throw my leg over the edge of the roof and lower myself slowly to the fire escape. For the first time since I received my powers, I walk down the fire escape like a normal person. I pull out my phone and immediately call Alex. My heart palpitates with each ring. She’s not answering. Fuck, she’s not answering. Her voicemail box comes on.

  “Alex, it’s me. Call me as soon as you get this. Please, just... I-I need to talk to you, just let me know that you’re... Okay, just, talk soon.”

  It’s dark when I arrive at my apartment some fifteen minutes later. I stayed in shadows and tried to walk through alleyways to avoid being seen. I can’t move very fast and I don’t need headlines tomorrow letting it be known that I got my ass kicked by the new guy in town. I do the usual routine and change clothes behind the dumpster, then struggle up four flights of stairs to my floor.

  I hope don’t look as bad as I feel. Lights are off in the living room, but there’s a light on in the hall.

  “Hello?” I call out.

  “Hellooooo,” Shia sing-songs back to me from her room, I’m assuming. Thank the gods above, she’s alive.

  “Shia,” I don’t know why I’m saying her name, but I’m so glad she’s home. I whirl around the hall and shoulder into her bedroom. As usual, she’s hunkered over her work table surrounded by a mountain of fabric swatches. “Shia. We need to-to lock the door. Wall up all the windows. Put you and Alex and Casey in a-a goddamn plastic bubble. Where’s my sister?”

  Shia whips around and swipes a brown curl out of her eye. She looks me up and down and I can see her face transforming from humored curiosity to serious concern. “What happened to you? Marie, you’re–”

  “Casey, where’s Casey?”

  “She left a couple of hours ago. I don’t know where she went.” Shia gets to her feet and moves a few steps forward. “You’re bleeding. Marie, what happened?”

  “What?” I mutter, looking up at her for a second as I dig my phone out of my pocket with trembling hands. Fuck. The screen is cracked to hell. I mean, it was cracked before, but I think my tussle with Van Houten must have really banged it up. I punch in Casey’s number and lift the phone to my ear.

  “Your head,” Shia whispers, motioning to the side of my temple.

  I grit my teeth as Casey’s phone rings and rings and rings, raising my hand up to my head and grimacing as I find the sticky patch of blood. “She’s not... answering. Shit.”

  I turn away from Shia and stomp back into my room. I examine my head in the floor-length mirror. I’m looking a bit worse for wear. There’s blood on my head, not to mention the combination of dust and grime from my rooftop battle.

  “Marie.” Shia sounds very serious, but I don’t turn to face her. I have no idea what weird emotion this is that I’m feeling. Embarrassment, maybe. Shame and anger boiled up into one dangerous cocktail of feelings. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I... There-there was...” I don’t even know how to begin explaining it.

  I’m saved from further stuttering by the sound of the front door being unlocked. “Casey?!” I dart past Shia, again, and into the living room. There, a familiar head of blonde hair greets me. I don’t know why but the sight of Alex safe and unharmed by that psycho tech bro makes tears well in my eyes. I practically run to her and wrap my arms around her shoulders.

  “H
ey, hey, I just got your message. Baby, what... what happened?” Alex returns my embrace and I have a feeling her and Shia are exchanging incredulous looks as I let myself spiral in front of them. I press my lips to hers in a crushing kiss.

  Alex pulls away from me and directs me to the couch. She sits down on my left and Shia joins on my other side. “You’re hurt.” Alex murmurs, her hand hovering by my forehead. “What’s going on?”

  “Casey. I-I need to make sure Casey is safe. I have to find her. She needs to come home as soon as possible. She’s not answering, she’s–”

  “Okay. No problem. We’ll call her a few more times. If she doesn’t answer I’ll put out a bulletin for NYPD. Marie, tell us what happened?” Alex’s voice is smooth and comforting but I still can’t seem to get the words to come out.

  I scrape my bottom lip with my teeth, “Van Houten. It’s... it’s him, it’s Van Houten. He showed up tonight, and... he’s strong. Like, really strong. It’s his suit. It’s that... fucking military piece of shit armor he just released. He-he was wearing it, and....” I have to tell them Van Houten knows about them, but saying it out loud feels like admitting failure. Which, I guess I did. I failed to keep them safe. “He knows... everything. He knows my name.”

  Alex’s hand tightens around my shoulder. I think I hear Shia sucking in a breath.

  “I’m sorry, I-I have no idea how, or why he’s doing this, but he... he knows about you two, as well. He told me I have to stop-stop being Metalia, or he would–”

  “That’s not going to happen.” Alex’s voice cuts through my darkness. How is she so confident, so collected all the time? “Marie, we always knew this would be a risk. Shia and I are adults and we made the choice to stand by your side, Metalia’s side. We are your teammates, and we are in this together.”

  “That’s right.” Shia murmurs, but her voice is a ghost of its typical strength.

  “You’ve got to stand up against him, Marie. Don’t let him scare you–”