“Well, I’ll be.”

  I barely note Ictus’ half whispered words past my own mounting shock. My eyes straining desperately to look up at the white light of the monitor’s just out of reach as he steps up to the console beside me. The hand holding my jaw loosening just enough to finally let me stare up to where he’s looking at the many screens all showing that a call to the MEA is in progress. Or, at least that’s what it looks like is going on.

  “This is Ictus. Confirmation code: 54102. Now awaiting response code.”

  “Hero Ictus confirmed on sight. Response code: …45091. Ictus, is the hero who first called still there?”

  “Yes! Yes, I’m here! Please tell him to let me up! This is really uncomfortable!” With the metal hand now looser than before, I’m able to slip my jaw away from its grip with only a little painful squeezing. Still not risking making an attempt to break the stone around my legs or do more than wriggle my hands where they’re still trapped against the ruined keyboard.

  “Original caller confirmed as on sight. Can you verbally state your identity for the record?”

  “Blink.” I spit out the first word I can think of that’s even halfway related to teleportation. Holding back a wince at how little thought I really put into this terrible plan that is somehow working. Even if that’s only because something impossible is going on.

  “That names already taken. I’ll record you as Skip-Skip for now. You can contact any MEA office within the next 72 hours to request a change to the incident report.” Even through the constant, and almost certainly fake, distortion I easily recognise the note of smugness in that familiar voice as she brands me with such a terrible name.

  My immediate response thankfully stopped before it can pass my lips when Ictus snorts in amusement before coughing violently again. The fit continuing on a little longer this time as he struggles to hold back the chuckles. Laughter I almost feel like joining in on as the hands holding me start to loosen then crumble and I can finally stand up again.

  Somehow though, I manage to hold back the flash of hysteria along with the desire to leap away from the hero right next to me. An urge that gets harder when Ictus hisses in sudden pain, a hand pressed tight to his chest while I watch him shift something under the skin back into a less painful spot. He rubs the scars for a few seconds more and clears his throat before finally answering with a voice even hoarser than before.

  “Operator, I have secured the villains Saurian and Schiz. Stig has been swept away by the floodwaters. I’d like to request we begin a search immediately. The target item is missing but, Skip-Skip should be able to return it.” He chuckles again, and then winces from the pain, as a relieved grin fights its way onto his face. A tension I hadn’t realised he’d been holding washed away as he breaths out a sigh and slouches back into the exhausted posture that I’d first seen him in.

  “Will do, Ictus. Be aware though, Valiant and Vantage have just been delayed some twenty minutes out. There’re problems everywhere tonight but nothing those two can’t handle.” The news about how close back-up is to arriving, even if it has been held up for now, has my face wanting to do the exact opposite of Ictus’ now truly cheerful expression. Given this place doesn’t get any reception, I’d been banking on not having to worry about anyone else turning up.

  The thought of the timer to when this already awful situation becomes truly unwinnable being even shorter than I’d first thought making me almost miss Amelia’s next words.

  “I’ll let them know the situation on site then get started on writing this up. Good job, hero. …Oh, and, Skip-Skip? Good work as well, I’m sure we’ll be keeping a close eye on your future. Hopefully, you’ll be calling us about something a little less serious than a kidnapping next time though.” It’s a fight not to wince at the hidden stress in Amelia’s tone. A reminder that I’ve twice now relied on her for help, and gotten it, without having the decency to address the kaiju sized elephant between us.

  “Yeah, I’m s- I’ll… keep on. With the heroing. Yes, thank you for… listening to me.” It takes almost as much self-control not to cringe at the lame way I finish the rambling attempt at playing it cool as it did to let my hand get caught earlier. My face growing hot and tongue feeling increasingly like I’m trying to use it to tie knots the longer I keep talking. Finally stopping only because I’ve run out of air just for an awkward pause to have me hunching down anyway.

  A wheeze from beside me has me flinching down anyway as glance over at Ictus for fear he’s seen through the terrible acting. A hand already half in my Pocket as I turn to look at him only to instead see his shoulders shaking with laughter while he glances away from me. A number of hands clinging onto the console to help him avoid falling over as he looks to have shoved another into his mouth to hold back his now fading amusement. My face only reddening further when I realise that the background distortion that had filled the gaps between Amelia’s words has also gone silent.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  ‘Please just say she’s hung up. If it’s silent because she had to mute herself then-‘

  “…Yes, till then. Keep heroing.” Her smile comes through clear even with the ongoing distortions before a beep lets me know she hung up for real this time. My cheeks finding new temperatures to rise too with how I can imagine her laughing right now. Eyes pressing shut in embarrassment as I picture her spinning around in her bedroom chair, or more likely some Virch version of it, while waving her hands around to edit and clip the audio. Smiling wide and crook-toothed as her eyes crinkle and she plans out some way to use it for another joke later on. Just like always. Just like before.

  ‘Probably not this time though.’

  The thought of how bad it would be if she secretly set any part of that conversation as my ringtone, and then called me after remotely turning off silent mode, does a lot to tamp down on my smile. The realisation that I’d started grinning at some point surprising me enough that it takes me a moment to note how Ictus has turned back towards me.

  The hero clearing his throat as he straightens up into a pose that wouldn’t be out of place on lunchboxes and posters. Feet slightly apart and ravaged chest pushed out while he extends a great many hands for me to shake. The classic superhero stance only slightly spoiled by the apologetic grin that accompanies his hoarse attempt at projecting confidence into his voice.

  “Sorry about that. I’m Ictus, Concordat hero. Second class! I’d love to hear more about how you managed this and if I can give you a tour of our base as an apology but-” He has to pause to fight back a coughing fit which has most of his hands pulling back before I can reflexively shake more than a few of them. His own flesh and blood arm the only one he forces to stay in place and which I feel compelled to take after a brief hesitation.

  “…You- You mentioned a timer?”

  “Yes, one moment.” I grasp his hand firmly as I think about just what the hell I should do next. My palms already clammy and breathing trying to turn shallow since the moment I’d turned to meet the hero’s eyes. Unfortunately, the first thought that comes to mind isn’t a very helpful one.

  In another life, one where I got a Power strong enough to convince the Concordat to stand up to ACME for me without just turning me into another type of office drone, or even one where I didn’t have to worry about dad in the first place, maybe I could take him up on that offer.

  Maybe I could get all I want and need without having to deal with people like Rosch or do things I know my friends would never understand. Even if they are awesome. Maybe.

  Then my eyes slide from his face and down to the covered sewer hole I know is just a few steps behind him. My nose twitching as the stench that’s so far been kept at bay by the oddly lemony blood of the monster, and the makeshift seal made by the soaked covers, starts to seep through. However, before I can think about what my instincts are telling me to do or else come up with a better thought-out step in this somehow working plan. The same static filled voice from before blares over the speakers with a warble of rapidly fading distortion that soon leaves behind the unaltered voice of my friend.

  “Ah! Ow ow ow! Oh, sugar honey iced t-!” Amelia’s accent, the upper class American one she decided to adopt back when we were kids, comes through clearly for only a moment before being replaced by a man’s harsh bark. The sound of people shouting or rushing about behind him coming through almost loud enough to cover his urgent sounding voice.

  “Ictus come in! Someone intercepted the response code! The IT squad is suggesting a Supe! I repeat, that voice was not a MEA operator! We have no record of a prior call from a hero at this location! Ictus please respond!”

  Of course, the moment I hear Amelia’s unaltered voice I know the ruse she’s somehow helped me put on is at an end. So, before the real operator has a chance to speak and while Ictus is still busy turning his head back towards the screens, I move first.

  Slipping my hand out of his grip, I shove my other arm down the front of my jacket and directly into my Pocket. Fingers immediately closing around a handful of paintballs that I draw and throw into his visor with one smooth motion. Although, a good number of them miss entirely. Splatting into his cheeks or just sailing past his head as he’s already ducking under the throw. His head turned away but instincts still kicking in to protect him as he somehow senses the coming attack. Only the benefit of surprise, and the great difference in our heights, letting me land a few mostly lucky shots. I don’t waste time thinking about that though.

  My feet already sliding forward to turn my throw into a poor imitation of Saurian’s wall-smashing shoulder tackle. Surprise and shortness saving me again as his instinctual dodge helps to bring his scar covered chest low enough that my shoulder can slam directly into it. The wind knocked out of him with a wheeze as the many arms of his costume flinch or spasm away from where they’d been about to grapple me. The hero finally taking a step back as the grating scream of metal against bone comes from under his skin. A hiss of agony slipping through my own lips as the impact makes my broken rib burn and sends spots playing across my vision.

  I fight through it. Following up the shoulder tackle by slipping my free hand back down the front of my jacket to grab onto a curtain pole whose cover is now just behind Ictus’ foot. The flash of cold helping to deaden the pain from my ribs as I feel the pole tip past that intangible point of no return. I want to use my other hand to unzip my jacket before it can get broken by the emerging rod that I plan to ram into his chest. Using it as a battering ram, or at least something he wants to dodge back from, to push him the final few steps towards the goal. Unfortunately, I never get the chance thanks to Ictus grabbing onto my wrist. The blinded hero somehow finding my arm as he pushes through his own pain to respond before I can land my follow up.

  The hands closest to his face wiping away the paint from his visor while the others focus on his chest or sides. Pressing or gripping with a masseuse’s fine touch as he rapidly undoes the damage I just did to whatever tech is under his skin. The pain of doing so still significant however, as he only barely manages to avoid falling over by throwing out his own free hand to turn his stumbling backstep into a short hop that easily pulls me off balance.

  A hop that takes him directly over the covered sewer hole I’d been trying to push him towards.

  The newly cleaned visor lets me see plainly the flash of pale terror that passes over my face as I watch him step back into empty air. His foot finding nothing beneath the soaked sheets and so turning what should have been a stance setting step into a plunge straight down into a living hell.

  One that drags me with him.

  thanks for reading!