Hero Types

Chapter 2

"...I don't know."
    "She's so quiet."
    "A little weird, though, right? It's not just me?"
    "I mean, I feel so bad for her..."
    "Totally..."
    "Kit."
    She shook her head. "Yeah. Sorry."
    "You okay?"
    "I'm good."
    She fixed her mask and retied her bun. They'd been waiting for four hours in the abandoned lot, and Jaguar was still nowhere to be seen.
     "Maybe something came up."
    "Do we know her identity?"
    "No way." Jersey checked his watch again, groaned, and ran a hand through his hair. "Eh. Lucas wouldn't flip if we went back. It's past hours anyway. She won't do anything if there's no one awake to watch it."
    "Let's go."
    They folded up their lawn chairs and got in Jersey's little yellow sports car. Kit watched out the tinted windows and tried to stop reliving the horrifying conversation she'd overheard in the bathrooms.
    "But it's just..."
    "I mean, I don't want to be mean—"
    "No! But I mean...no one wants to hang out if she's coming, you know. It just makes it awkward. For everybody."
    "Dick won't even text me back anymore..."
    "Speaking of awkward virgins."
    They laughed. Kit stayed in the stall till they left. She washed her hands for about five minutes and blinked hard. She glanced at her reflection. She worked hard to wipe her eyes till the bell rang.
    "Ugh." Jersey rolled his eyes, waiting at a light. "I so can't deal with the teenage angst, okay. What's up."
    "Nothing."
    "You look like your dog just died."
    "I'm fine."
    He drove for a few minutes, lips pursed in an expression not dissimilar to Gran's. He grinned suddenly and leaned over.
    "I saw Rhinoman in a bar last weekend."
     "A gay bar?"
    "Where else would I be?" He honked violently at a speeding cabbie, smirking. "Fucking hammered, too. Haven't seen him making headlines in a while."
    "Waspwoman's been big lately."
    "Yeah, but didn't that thug end up dead because of her?"
    "Oh, really?"
    "I mean, probably an accident, but, still. Do you have a dog, and is it dead?"
    "I'm fine."
    "Oh my god." He smacked his hands on the wheel at the light, then threw them into the air. "I give up. I'm done. Wallow in all your angst."
    Kit put her nose on the window and tried not to.
It's no big deal. It's just high school. You're a superhero. You're better than this.
    "What do you want?"
    She looked up. Jersey gestured to the Dairy Queen.
    "So help me, Kit, if you turn down ice cream I'm starting a petition to sign you over to the dark side."
    A milkshake did cheer her up just a little bit.
    Jersey was twenty-one, fashionable, and he had an exciting nightlife for sure. He could be volatile, and he had a temper, but they had been on a lot of missions together, being the closest in age. Kit thought, although she had rarely hung out with him as Jersey and not as his super alter ego Midnight Ghost, that he was probably her best friend.
    "And...they're all still here?" Jersey frowned at the cars in the yard as he pulled up out back of the CAA. He glanced at her, and she shrugged.
    They went in through the back door—he had the keys—and wandered through the darkened training room. There were voices coming from down the hall, and the lights were on out there.
    The CAA was mostly, except for the Center of the Center, open floors sealed off by stretches of canvas and even occasionally blue tarps. Much of the space was empty. The training room took up most of the space, filled with dummies and sacks of sand and tires to practice on. There was also Howe's library, with lots of books and files, a few mismatched computers, and snakes all over the place. Aside from that, there was a storage room, and the front desk, and a bathroom. It wasn't a business; they didn't need much of anything else.
    Lucas, Mardie, and a boy were sitting at the table, speaking quietly. Howe was examining the board, his back to them. They fell silent and everyone but Howe looked up when Kit and Jersey entered. Lucas smiled hopefully.
    "No show." Jersey said. Lucas nodded slowly.
    "Hmm. We'll have to keep on eye on her. Howe..." he looked around. Howe grunted and made a note.
    "Is something going on?"
    They took their seats at the table. The boy was young and dark-skinned, with a curly mop of black hair perched atop his head.
    "Benji, say hi." Mardie said.
    Benji said hi.
    "This is my nephew. Benji, this is Kit and Jersey. Kit's the girl."
    "They're like us," Lucas said quickly, to reassure the fearful widening of his eyes.
    "Like us?" Jersey asked.
    "What do they do?" Benji asked quietly.
    "Jersey can sort of turn invisible. And Kit can—she can reflect people's powers, all right?"
    "Lucas, is he..."
    "Benji," Lucas said, shaking the boy's shoulder (he looked to be in shock), "is under our protection."
    "How old is he?"
    "I'm thirteen."
    "Does he have powers?"
    Mardie and Lucas exchanged a glance. Benji hugged himself and watched them nervously.
    "No," Lucas said. "But we're not clear."
    Kit watched Benji while Lucas relayed his story. There was a quiet nervousness there that she recognized in herself. To a certain extent, it was something that she saw in all of their kind.
    Benji had come home on the bus from school and his mother had been missing. Like a normal thirteen-year-old boy, he had been worried, but had assumed she was out doing errands and had sat down to watch TV.
    He was unable to describe what happened next, but he did remember a figure standing in the doorway, and then he had told the man to go, and the figure had staggered away.
    This was where Benji had called his aunt to come pick him up. There had been no sign of the figure when she arrived; only knives embedded hilt-deep in the apartment door, and Benji hiding under the kitchen table. They had been at the CAA since then.
    "You really don't know what they looked like?" Jersey asked.
    "He doesn't know," Mardi said.
    "He's safe here. We'll welcome him with open arms, whatever it is that he does," Lucas said. "Our priority will be finding out whoever did this and stopping them. Does that sound good to you, Benji?"
    Benji bobbed his head quickly.
    "We'll try to find your mom," Kit said quietly. Now Benji looked at her and nodded.
    Jersey got up, so Kit did as well. She needed to be getting home. Gran always worried.
    "Wait, hold up!" Lucas held up a finger. "Not quite done."
    Jersey groaned, took out his phone, and presumably cancelled his hot midnight date. Kit sat back down and brought her knees to her chest. She removed her mask.
    Lucas slapped a photograph on the table.
    "The Weasel."
     Howe passed him a folder.
    "I know," Kit said.
    "No, I saw him. Almost caught him, too." Lucas passed her another photograph.
    "Hey...I know where that is..."
    He nodded. "He's on a spree. I was out Wednesday night, but he got away. Third bank this month. Howe's got an idea of where he'll hit next. We need to be prepared."
    "Like a stakeout?"
    "Exactly like a stakeout. Only...Howe—"
    "Here."
    "Aha—yeah. Yeah. Yeah, we need to get inside."
    "No pacts?"
    "His alter ego is named Charlie Fast. His brother is Peter Fast, and he's the Deputy of the squad."
    "Oh..."
    "Ooh," Jersey rubbed his hands together. "I love these ones. How do we do it?" Lucas rubbed his forehead.
    "Unfortunately, it's extremely state-of-the-art. All hi-tech. Charlie has no qualms about setting off a few alarms on the way out. We should avoid that, leave him tied up in the vault till morning, the usual."
    "Then how are we supposed to get in?" Mardie asked. She looked tired. Her hair was a mess. Lucas sighed.
    "It's all computers and machines. Lasers, sensors. Monitors and cameras. Locks. Lots, and lots of locks. The only thing I can think of is..."
    "Mmm." Jersey slapped his hand on the table.
    "No." Kit's heart sank. "No."
    Lucas nodded.
    "Mickey."
    She looked between them in desperation. Lucas shrugged helplessly. She groaned and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her tired eyes.
    "I haven't heard about him in a long time," Mardie said. "Is he still at it?"
    "Oh, yeah," Howe said. "Keeps under the radar, for the most part, but he's still around."
    "We shouldn't—" Kit thought for a moment. "I mean—how do we even know how to get ahold of him?"
    "Howe's got the files," Lucas said.
    "I've always got the files," Howe confirmed. Kit rolled her eyes in despair.
    "Who's Mickey?" Benji asked. The table was quiet.
    "Mickey," Lucas said delicately, "is what we like to call a 'villain with a conscience'."
    Benji blinked.
    "He's not a good guy," Mardie clarified, "...but he's not really a bad guy either."
    "Like Catwoman," Jersey offered, "in the comics."
    "Mickey's not like Catwoman," Kit mumbled.
    "Sometimes he helps us," Lucas explained. "Sometimes..."
    "Sometimes he helps the bad guys."
    "Usually." Kit crossed her arms. She was tired and still hurt from school, and Jaguar was still on the loose, and now they needed help from one of her least favorite people on the planet.
    "The important thing is," Lucas said, "he'll help us if we ask. And especially if we pay. Which we can. Howe."
    "I'll have the information by tomorrow," he sighed.
    "All right then. I'll work something out. I need all hands on deck next Wednesday, cancel your plans if you have any. And Benji...yeah. Yeah, we'll find your mom."
    Jersey drove Kit home, because it was late and he thought the metro was disgusting. She sulked more than she had on the way to CAA. At least, she thought, she'd been distracted from the pitiful reality of her social life.
    "I don't see why it has to be Mickey," she muttered into the window.
    "Because he can get us in and out without a problem."
    "Yeah. But...can't we find someone else?"
    "Do you know anyone?"
    She was silent.
    "I never understood why you hated him so much," Jersey mused. "I mean, I didn't like him. But he did help us out."
    "I don't hate him. I just don't want to have to—"
    "Jesus, Kit, can you get your face off of my—"
    "—I don't," she said, peeling herself off the window, "want to have to depend on him."
    "He—"
    "I know he helped us. But he was working for them first. He switched sides just because he felt like it. That's not—like, pick a side, you know? It's like if someone cheats with you, they'll probably cheat on you too! And...and he was arrogant."
    "Oh, yeah. He was definitely arrogant."
    "So arrogant. Ugh." She put her face in her hands. "Jersey, I can't stand him."
    "It's literally one night." He pulled up front of Grammy's loft. His phone buzzed, and he sighed. "Oh, Troy, you beautiful disaster. Come on. I've got places to be, kid."
    Grammy had gone to bed. She had left a note on the table. Kit turned on the dim lights and squinted to make out the cursive.

—When you're finished saving the world, would you please take the clothes out of the wash

    So Kit put the clothes in the drier while eating two granola bars at a time (she'd forgotten to bring snacks on their stakeout) and then she went upstairs, hoped that she would be able to BS the economics quiz the next morning, and tried to fall asleep quickly. She did, actually, because for once she really was more worried about the life of Reflecto-Girl than that of Kit Folly.