As the first chunk of debris slams down next to me, I can’t help but wonder, ‘Why does this always happen to me?’
The crash drowns out the shrieks of nearby men and women and knocks me into the iron fence bordering the walkway. That will bruise for sure. The deep blue water of the Mighty Canal rushes past two feet below the sidewalk. I snatch my purse before it slips off my shoulder and tumbles into the frigid waves.
“No, no, no! Not today! Not right now!” I moan and calculate the distance between me and the bridge entrance. I can make it. I can make it! The crowd scatters—and I nearly follow like the sheep I am—but my need to get to the other side of the canal is stronger.
Sprinting in my only pair of high heels, I rush for the bridge, sparing a single glance behind me. A hulking man in an orange jumpsuit with the sleeves ripped off struts down the middle of the road, his arms covered in tattoos and muscles bulging. My mind clears, and the world focuses with laser clarity. He picks up an empty car and chucks it. The blaring vehicle flies past me and splashes into the water: the horn cuts off as the car sinks, but I don’t stop.
I curse the villain and my laziness. Why did I snooze the alarm five times this morning? Oh right, cause it took me hours to fall asleep from worrying something would ruin my last chance to get a job today. Crap! If I’d left ten minutes ago when I’d planned, I’d be on the bridge right now!
My legs stretch against my black pencil skirt. The smell of dust, burning rubber, and smoke burns my nose as my lungs strain to suck in enough oxygen to fuel my speed. A slow burn builds in my thighs, and a cramp pinches my rib. Running sucks! But I’m going to make it!
Whumpf!
Something smashes into the ground behind me, sending out another shockwave of pebbles. Unable to maintain my balance, I fall forward, scraping my knees. Ow! No problem. As long as I didn’t ruin my black skirt or get dirt on my white shirt…yes, I’m fine. Everything’s fine.
I risk a glance backward, and all thought vanishes as a hunk of building as big as a bus hurtles toward me, blocking out the sky, the buildings, everything.
Sorry, Mom, I love you. I close my eyes and wait for death.
Smash! I open my eyes. A gray rectangular shimmer, like a silver oil spill floating on water or light reflecting on a metal sheet, hovers a few feet above me. The rock smashed into it, crumbling to the ground but leaving me unscathed.
Uh?
“Don’t worry, ma’am. You’re safe now.” A male voice rumbles.
A wall of gray embraces me before I’m lifted, weightless and tossed around like a sack of dirty laundry. “Whoa, wait, what?”
I watch in disbelief and misery as the distance to the bridge lengthens. No! This is the opposite of what I want. I’m so close! I don’t want to be saved by a superhero. My interview is in an hour!
“We’re almost to safety,” the deep voice shouts above the cacophony of boulders, cars, and more breaking against the shimmering gray wall protecting us.
I focus on myself. I’m being carried over the shoulder of a tall, muscular man in a gray suit. Despite his full-stride run, I’m barely bouncing. Wow! And hold on. Shimmer shields, gray supersuit….it couldn’t be!?
My hero finally slows and ducks into an alley between two medium-sized buildings. He slings me upright, and pins me with an intense gaze. My knees buckle, and I instinctively reach out to grab him for support. Surprisingly, he lets me. Or maybe he doesn’t notice I’m hanging off him? Either way, my brain is short-circuiting at the superhero with the chiseled jaw and stormy gray eyes.
Iron Shield.
He looks even better n person than the magazine pics I’ve taped on my apartment wall.
“What a surprise.” An even deeper voice snickers to my right. My head snaps to look. Iron Slayer holding his two electric swords. He taps them together and winks at me as they crackle and snap. “You rescued the cute damsel while I got stuck with the mothball-smelling old lady.”
Iron Shield scoffs. “And how exactly were you going to save the damsel from a ton of concrete?”
“I would have figured it out.”
“Sure, Ru.”
“Tell him, Dev.” Iron Slayer elbows a taller, older version of himself with the same black hair and angular cheekbones.
The third man fixes them both with a stern stare and a pointed glance at me. “Superhero names, boys. We’re on the job.”
He’s standing next to a woman in a green and gold jumpsuit that clings to her like a glove. She’s toned while I’m curvy, with the same light skin but straight, blonde hair. The power couple themselves; Iron Storm and his wife, Jade Princess. I. Could. Die. How is it possible SuperGossip magazine hasn’t photo-shopped them? They just look that perfect? Life is totally unfair.
Jada notices me clinging to her brother-in-law and raises a thin eyebrow.
“Please evacuate the area for your own safety, ma’am.” Her crisp, dry tone is somehow soothing and grating.
Ma’am? I had to be younger than she was. I gesture at Iron Shield with my head. “He brought me here. I wanted to get to the bridge.”
Duh? They’d literally watched him carry me over here. Still, judging by the flash in Jade Princess’s green eyes, I shouldn’t be antagonizing superheroes. Especially not the top superhero family in New Vale City.
Iron Storm steps forward and cracks his knuckles. “The bridge is out of order, ma’am. Don’t worry, this shouldn’t take long. Be useful and clear the area, brothers. I’ll handle the villain.”
Okay. I will ignore that comment about the bridge cause it’s perfectly safe to cross, but this ma’am thing needs to stop. The few superheroes I’ve interacted with referred to me as ‘citizen’ or ‘bystander.’ Ma’am? Gag and stuff me like a pincushion. Though it doesn’t sound so condescending coming from Iron Storm’s mouth. He’s the oldest and considered the strongest, though I don’t agree. His power is flashy and useful outside of combat; that’s all. Women everywhere wept for days when he and Jade Princess married in a surprise ceremony three years ago.
Not me though. I prefer a different brother. My eyes slide back to the enigma who saved me. Where have you been the past three years?
Iron Shield tenses beneath me, and his jaw tightens. “The only citizen not currently fleeing is this woman. The area is clear.” He looks down at me, and I see the exact moment he notices I’m clinging to him like a leech. His right eyebrow pops up.
“Sorry. Thanks for saving me. I’ll just be on my way.” I drop my arms, and my legs hold me this time. Moving to follow Iron Storm, I dust off my skirt. I’ll take off my shoes and make a break for the bridge. It’s still clear with only a few chunks of building blocking the entrance.
With Iron Storm distracting The Crusher, I can — solid arms pull me back, and then Iron Shield’s glorious chest blocks my view. “Stand back. Please remain calm. We have this under control. No need to be hysterical.”
Uh, is he just saying reassuring catchphrases?
“I’m not hysterical.” I lift my hands a few inches and turn them palm side up. “See?”
Iron Storm strides out of the alley and stretches out his hands. The bits of rebar and steel scattered about, as well as several yards of the iron fence I walked by five minutes ago, spring forward as though pulled by a magnet and snap into place in front of him, forming an enormous hammer. He simply holds out his hand, and the hammer melded from debris floats alongside him. It sweeps out, sending a wave of dust billowing out, and hits a chunk of rubble, which breaks apart in a puff of choking dust. Iron Storm doesn’t break his step, perfectly coifed hair, gray jumpsuit with a jagged navy blue stripe extending from his back and cutting through his the arms and legs, and a dull yellow cape fluttering behind him. Extra metal orbits him and provides footholds for Iron Slayer to run up and over his brother, swords outstretched.
Several SUVs squeal to a halt nearby, and more brightly colored men and women exit, rushing down the street after Iron Storm and Iron Slayer. The superheroes never notice bystanders like me, but I’ve never seen so many top-rated heroes this close before. They are magnificent, and… smaller than I thought? They seem so ordinary.
A pretty woman about my mother’s age, with the most gorgeous curly red hair, in a black and green supersuit, and carrying two thin, sharp steel swords that gleam in the early sun, stops to nod at Iron Shield. He returns the nod, and she’s off. Another van pulls up, and two brave reporters rush to record the action. They don’t notice us.
My jaw is on the floor.
“Citizens should maintain a healthy distance from red zones while an alert is in effect.” Iron Shield’s voice gives me goosebumps. I can feel the vibrations transferring from his chest to mine.
Yep. Catchphrases.
“There wasn’t an alert when I left my apartment,” I slick my ponytail back and tug on my shirt. He isn’t listening to me. And now he’s turning away. Wonderful, I feel so reassured.
He pauses and looks at me over his shoulder. His brows furrow. “You live around here? So close to the prison?”
I nod. The rent is cheap, and…what is even happening right now?
“I suggest you move as soon as you can. Your life is worth more than a few dollars saved. Crusher escaped the VCVP.” Oops, I think I said my question out loud. He looks down the alley back toward where we came.
Impossible, but I saw him myself. The Vale City Villain Prison is only a few miles from my apartment on a slight hill, but there hasn’t been an escape in almost twenty years, when Black Mist took over as prison warden. The Crusher? He has been rotting in there for the past ten years. I guess that explains the bright orange jumper guy I saw. What exactly were our tax-dollars paying for if they couldn’t keep a D-level villain behind bars and out of polite society?
“The Crusher.” The words slip out while I’m distracted.
He spares me another sexy side-eye. His eyes have the tiniest bit of green in them, and his hair is two inches longer with a bit of curl. “What?”
“It makes him angrier if you forget the ‘the.’”
His dark expression lightens ever so slightly as his lip twitches like he wants to smile but stops himself. “I’ll keep that in mind. Please vacate the area until we have The Crusher under control.”
“I’ll be sure to do that.” Not. My eyes trail down his toned body. The Stanton brothers won big in the genetics lottery; looks, superpowers, and old money. That they—and their sister—all had A-level powers was truly unfair. Their family had built an empire in the last ten years. Aaand from the hint of a smirk on his face, he noticed my gawking. Crap. No! Own it, Carrie. There is nothing wrong with admiring a work of art from a distance.
He turns away, and I cast another look at the bridge. Iron Shield hasn’t fought villains or crime in New Vale City since he left this his brother Iron Slayer and no explanation. Now he is back? SuperGossip Magazine speculated for weeks about the sudden departure after their elder brother’s wedding and still writes salty articles about not knowing the reason every few months. Articles that I do not read. At all. But I can’t be blamed for perusing the magazines when Mrs. Lamborin left them on the coffee table. Sometimes I got bored when the kids were napping, you know? Like I had the day Grant Lamborin had returned home early and sat a little too close, smiled a little too much, leaned in and set his hand on my leg, told me he had a surprise for me in the bedroom…
Anyway!
I swallow the bile building in my throat while Jade Princes strides past me and stands even with Iron Shield. Huh? She’s holding a small child—a young boy, about two, with the same golden hair as his mother but the gray eyes of his father. I know this because he stares at me over his mother’s shoulder. Adorable. Jade Princess wears a green jumpsuit, as her name suggests, and a jade circlet over her shiny, straight hair that ripples with every twitch and shake of her head. She stands so close to her brother-in-law that her arm touches his. Uh, is that normal?
Not your circus, Carrie.
The sounds of battle and destruction fill the air. Sirens wail and flashing lights surround the area on the street in front of us as police cars block access to the street and set up a perimeter. Crap! I’ll never make it over them in my pencil skirt without being seen. I’ll just hide in the alley and wait for Iron Shield and Jade Princess to leave. The only thing big enough to hide me is a garbage can. At least it isn’t stinky.
“What is the Cavanaugh family doing here? HQ called us. We won’t share the bounty.” Jade Princess scoffs and hops her son higher on her hip.
“Why are we here? The Crusher isn’t worth our time.”
“Of course not. The SCA wouldn’t have called us here for one measly low-level villain.
“You think we have two escaped villains?”
“Crusher had a cellmate, didn’t he?”
Oooh! Juicy and alarming all in one. I suddenly feel the need to look at the back of the alley. No one.
Iron Shield continues, “Do we know who it is?”
“No, but that’s the exciting part.” Jade Princess’ mega-watt smile bounces off Iron Shield.
Iron Shield grunts. “Let’s just get this over with so I can go home.”
She nudges him. “Don’t be a spoilsport, Lucas. This is your first fight with me in three years.”
“I’m not back, Jada.” His voice is hard and unbending.
“Why.” The child whispers. It didn’t sound like a question.
Lucas looks down at them and frowns. “Wait, you have Felix with you?”
She waves a dismissive hand hand. “Your parents weren’t home, and there wasn’t time to find a babysitter. Marissa refused to wait for us to find a babysitter.” Jade Princess looks at Iron Shield with calculated coyness. She twists and hands off her son to Iron Shield, who accepts him with no comment, then realizes what she’s done, and gives her their family’s signature Iron Scowl.
“Jada! I told you I’m not—”
With a flirty toss of her hair, she steps out of the alley. “Don’t be grumpy, Lucas. Your shields can withstand a nuclear bomb, it’s true, but this job calls for a combative strategy. I’ll be back soon.” She blows them a kiss.
“Jada!” he says, but she’s already gone.
Rude! Iron Shield isn’t just a glorified shield. He can fight too, according to his interviews that I did not cut out and tape on my wall.
I hear him let out a frustrated grunt as he swivels on his heels, kicks a plastic bottle into a recycling bin, and adjusts his nephew—Felix? So cute!—who cuddles into his chest and tucks his arms in, left thumb stuck in his mouth. I don’t blame you, kid. I would do the same in a heartbeat. The cuddling, not the thumb-sucking.
Unfortunately, my skills of prowess aren’t as high as I’d assumed—or maybe my nosy, drama-loving self is to blame—because Iron Shield, or Lucas, spots me spying almost immediately. His scowl intensifies. “Why are you still here? And why are you hiding behind the garbage can?”
Embarrassed, I cough and stand up. “I told you. I need to get across the bridge as soon as possible.” I don’t mention I was waiting for him to leave.
“Come back later, ma’am.”
Hmm. Not even coming from his mouth softened that blow. Ma’am makes me feel so old and fussy. “I’d love to, but I have an interview in—” I check my watch and my eyes nearly pop out of my head. “—forty minutes. I have to go now! I’ll be fine.”
His arm whips out and blocks my way even as he wraps it around my waist.
“That’s a no. Now go wait at the library. It isn’t safe.”
“Wibary?” Felix perks up. Aww.
“Not now,” Iron Shield mumbles. Felix pouts adorably.
“You worry too much. I’m perfectly safe at present. You’re here, remember?”
His jaw tightened. Oof, wrong thing to say after the stunt his sister-in-law pulled. “I remember saving you from being crushed by The Crusher, not twenty minutes ago.”
“Exactly.” I need a distraction, so he loosens his grip. He won’t chase me out there with his nephew. “Lucas, was it? Your hair is longer.”
The cute, befuddled frown is back. “What?”
“Your hair is longer. And I like the beard.”
He blinks. Wow, I blinded him with my incredible wit.
But his grip on me remains firm, which normally would be delightful, but at present is a well-meaning obstacle. “How long do you think this will last?”
“Couple of hours. I won’t be there to block The Crusher’s attacks.” A tiny spark of amusement in his eyes.
I grin, then his words sink in. A groan escapes. “Look, I can see the house from here!” I point across the canal. The sharp contrast between the run-down buildings and weed-choked sidewalks of North Vale and the shiny, new skyscrapers and manicured parks of South Vale is depressing and impossible not to notice. “Can’t you just—” I push against his arm. It’s as solid as steel.
He doesn’t look, so I can’t twist away. “Unless you can fly, ma’am, you’re not making that interview.”
“There must be something I can do. Some way to speed this up—” My eyes fall on Felix and an idea hits me like a bucket of cold water dropped on my head.
