The last time I had been inside a police car was in eleventh grade when Emelia and I had gotten caught trying to steal a six-pack of beer to get into a houseparty. It was stupid, I know, but things were so much more simpler back then, when all that mattered was parties or who you hung out with and, to be fair, I really needed the social credit. Being a superhero in high school was just like the comics—no time for your friends or your grades and, in my case, the track and field team. People got angry at you, yelled at you and started fights in the hallways or in the cafeteria, and truth be told, I would usually start fighting back. At some points I didn’t even really have friends.
I hated disappointing people, however much I did it these days, but I figured that stealing alcohol for a bunch of highschool royalty would buy me back into their good graces. I wanted to get high fives again after winning events. I wanted people to say things about me and not just Olympia all the time. But the track team lost the state champs without me that year because they were too weak in the final few legs, even though I was just junior varsity. Was I cheating in sports? The answer to that is simple: it wasn’t cheating if the competition ‘totally’ didn’t have a speedster pretending to be a normal person on their team. Schools bought false documents all the time.
But when the two of us got caught, it was me who got put in the back of the cop car, because surprise, it was Lucas who found me trying to break into a tiny convenience store.
“Just to make some pricks happy,” he’d muttered. “Come on, kid. That’s all? Really?”
It didn’t take much to hear the disappointment in his voice. Lucas was always angry about something, annoyed at someone, pissed that something hadn’t gone his way, but that night had been different. He’d just sounded tired, like he was wasting his time keeping up with some kid who could be stopping crime, saving cats from trees, or helping old ladies cross the street. I had shoved Emelia into a bush beside the store, hiding her, but Lucas probably knew that someone else was there with me. We were kids trying to hide from a retired superhero. Very stupid kids wanting to please people who already didn’t like us. Lucas had to drive me home. Ronnie wasn’t there, so we sat on the porch, silent, until he lit a cigarette and pulled on it until it fizzled out quietly.
“You’re gonna make a lot of people angry being who you are,” he’d said, blowing smoke, so acrid I could still smell it right now. “Both you and… the other you. You can’t please everyone.”
“Why not?” I had argued, because that was easier than listening. “I can still try.”
“And you should,” he had said. “But not if you’re ruining yourself in the process.”
At the time, I didn’t know just a few months later I’d be in the Alps with blood on my hands for that very same reason, trying to please everyone, more than everyone. Doing more than I thought I could but wasn’t anywhere near where I had to be in my life for that to be possible.
It was still a habit I was trying to break, but that just meant neglecting one aspect of myself.
Otherwise, I guessed it made sense that I wasn’t too pleased to be sitting in the back of a police car again with people either cheering that I was finally being arrested, or shouting threats and swear words at both the police and myself for being a coward. For not standing up for myself. You’re a superhuman, I heard. Freaking act like it. As if that meant I should just rip my way out of the car and fight off the herd of humans banging their palms against the car as the police drove onto the street and away from 12th Avenue. I could, sure, but even I knew how stupid of an idea that would be in plain sight of all the cameras. Whatever. It was pretty cool back here, anyway.
I wasn’t the kind of superhero that put villains inside of police cars, so getting a closer look at one than any of the people I’d ever gone up against had to be at least a little ironic at some point.
“I’m guessing you guys are gonna get super popular from now on, huh?” I asked, leaning forward and against the bullet proof glass partition. “Like mini celebrities around the precinct.”
Neither said anything. The shorter man drove. The taller man scratched his chin.
“Not big fans of small talk,” I muttered, leaning back. “At least play some music.”
“You’re a lot younger looking in person,” the shorter man said. “High school, has to be.”
The taller man looked into the rearview mirror, saw me wave at him with my handcuffs still on, and shook his head. “Nah. I’d say early twenties. Look at her arms. No kid’s got that muscle.”
“I heard that she grows,” his buddy replied. “Swells up when she’s using her powers.”
He wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t going to agree. “I thought you guys would be a lot more… I don’t know, scared? Angry? Telling me that anything I say can and will be used against me?”
It took a few minutes for either of them to respond, and by that time, we had lost the small gaggle of cars that had been trying to follow us. We were in downtown New Olympus now, not quite Lower Olympus, but the long stretch closer to the mouth of the river that split the city. I could see the beach out of the window, the lapping waves and a few slightly rundown shopping centers. The streets were emptier here, with everyone either at work or in their homes, trying to avoid the growing heat of the day. He parked his car slightly on the curb, turning it off and leaving us in silence. I figured they were waiting to see what I’d do, to see if I would finally run away.
Instead, the taller man grunted and got out, then opened the door for me. He waited, and I obliged, because sitting in a puddle of coffee and tea and sticky juice wasn’t fun in a warm car.
He shut the door and hooked his thumbs on his belt. Closer to him now, I saw his bushy eyebrows and untrimmed nose. His pinky was painted pink, with bits of glitter shining in it. He was burly, well-rounded, compared to the smaller man, who looked a lot more athletic as he leaned against the trunk of the car to my left. The shorter man—Johnson, said the tag on his shirt pocket—looked around at the empty streets and the boarded up windows. I looked around, too, getting a little bit more tense, because even my ears weren’t picking anything up. Was this some kind of ambush? No, the cops weren’t that well-funded for that. A trap, maybe a waiting attack?
“We know you can take those off if you want,” Johnson said, nodding. “Yep, we’ve seen you carry buildings and cars, and these little things are probably like bracelets to your kind.”
“John,” Harvey—the taller man—said. “Her kind, really? She’s just like me ‘n’ you.”
“Except she can fly,” he muttered. “Wish I could fly, too. Beat the traffic a lot faster.”
“Why’d you bring me here?” I said. “‘Cause I hate surprises, you know.”
Johnson waved his hand at his partner. “It was all his idea, you ask him.”
Harvey cleared his throat, looked me dead in the eyes, and said, “Thank you.”
I waited for him to continue, but that’s all that came out of his mouth. I looked over my shoulder at his partner, trying to get myself out of having to look a grown man in the eyes.
“He’s not much of a talker,” Johnson said. “Strong and silent. Thank God not anywhere near retirement, though. He means thanks for saving his bacon last night against those villains.”
Oh, so that’s why he’s thanking me. It was a new experience for me. I never really got thanked for anything I did as Olympia, so… “You’re welcome? I don’t really know what to say.”
Harvey grunted again, which I was beginning to understand was his main way of communicating. “That’s really all I wanted to say to you, so there it is, and I hope you know that you are doing a very good service for the people of New Olympus despite some of your choices.”
I leaned against the cop car. “Guessing you mean the murder part of those choices.”
Johnson sniffed, then popped a piece of gum into his mouth. “Yeah, it’s a pretty nasty part of your choices, but… Hell, it means that grunts like us are a lot safer because of those choices.”
“Hey, c’mon. You guys are important. The Normals like you a lot more than they do me.”
“Only because we look like them,” Johnson said. “See, you weren’t active from before Damage Control and the SDU were around, you know. It was like the wild west. You get a call in the middle of the night because some freak—no offense—was tearing up Lower Olympus. Now you’ve gotta kiss the missus and hug your kid not knowing if you’ll be back in the next hour.”
Harvey nodded. “Guys like me and John are the lucky ones. So again, thank you.”
I noticed that now, seeing the look in their eyes. They weren’t scared to be around me, like a few of them have been in the past. Their faces were a little sunken, eyes a little dull. They were casual with me because they had probably seen more than enough of their friends get ripped apart by one of my kind. I didn’t discriminate when it came to supervillains. Superhuman or Normal, I’d be putting my fist so far down their throat I could pull their guts right out of their mouths. But imagining being human, armed with only a pistol and some body armor, facing down some guy probably covered in what was left of your partner would stick with you, scar you for a long time.
And judging by the scars that littered Harvey’s right arm, a spiderweb of pale white tissue, it was enough of a story, right along with Johnson’s slightly dull right eyeball and the pulled skin around it. In the blazing sunlight above, he looked kinda like a two-faced ghoul that smiled.
Johnson offered me a piece of gum. I took it with my teeth, thanking him.
“So,” I said, chewing. “Both of you were working last night when the call came?”
Harvey nodded, then grunted again. “Called in for a big transfer at the Belcrest Bank. Knew it was gonna be bad, not that bad though. I was in the first car you caught in the air.”
I would like to say I remembered him, but a girl had been going through a lot recently.
But that also meant Ava had someone working there, either that or she had really good connections to find out when the best possible time to steal a truck full of gold would be. Her shadow was my guess, something—or someone—I hadn’t seen yet. For all I knew they were probably watching us right now, skulking through an alley or bounding from the rooftops. I kept my senses on high alert, my powers still active enough to burn the juices and coffee out of my hair without hurting either of the cops. I’d find whoever was watching me one day, I swore it.
For now, though, I guess I was doing a public service talking to the boys in blue. They knew stuff that I didn’t, stuff that I had to learn somehow since Lucas was too busy to tell me.
“Lucky for me, I was on leave,” Johnson said. “One day into it and suddenly I’m watching my partner flying through the air. Fuck, when I tell you, kid, that my heart was in my ass…”
Harvey shrugged. “I’m fine thanks to you. My wife says thanks, too, even if she’s not your biggest fan. I wasn’t either, but I know when to stuff it and shake a hand or two from time to time.”
“I always figured that you guys hated me,” I said. “I mean, you all looked kinda pissed off when I stopped you from chasing the villains in the truck. Oh, right, and sorry about the police cars I punched out. It was for your own safety because Mayor Blackwood is always on my ass about letting you guys work and leaving you alone and asking why you haven’t caught me yet.”
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Johnson jerked his chin at my wrists. “Looks like we got you, but really, who cares?”
“Everyone on 12th Avenue, seemingly.”
“Yeah, sure, but those guys don’t have to get called up to deal with a superhuman that we shouldn’t be dealing with,” Johnson said. “They call us to their suburbs ‘cause they think they saw someone flying or turning into a shadow or jumping over their house like some freaking toad.”
Harvey nodded. “Always the toads. Kaiju sightings are the most frequent for them.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “Because it doesn’t sound as bad as profiling a superhuman?”
Johnson laughed, a deep sound that came from the throat. “Ah, hell, I didn’t want to be the one who said it but you’re right on the money with that, Goldie. ‘Kay if I call you that, Goldie?”
I shrugged. “Honestly, you two are the only cops who’ve ever wanted to talk to me, so I don’t really mind. You saw what happens when I try to talk things out with people, anyway.”
“We’re not allowed to speak to you,” Harvey added, putting on sunglasses as a kid cycled past us, staring at me with such wide eyes I was sure he was going to fall. “It's a precinct code.”
And suddenly that makes a lot more sense for why they avoid me.
“So what happens now since people saw you take me away?” I asked. “I’m guessing you bring me to the station, put me in a holding cell. Someone calls the mayor and you two get a medal and some cash and I eventually break out? ‘Cause there’s no way in hell I’m going to court. It looks so freaking boring, plus I haven’t even done anything wrong! I’m just saving people.”
“Well—” Johnson’s radio squealed, and a voice came through, asking them both where they were and why their police tracker was off. Neither responded, turning the volume down. “Anyway, it looks like we’re landing ourselves in hot water the longer we chat with you. But to answer your question: nah, kid, we’re not going to do any of that. We aren’t in it for the fame if that’s what you’re wondering about. Some people, sure, but you’re not our concern, not at all.”
“There’s a bounty on you,” Harvey said casually, as if this wasn’t news to me. “A few of the guys and girls want to see if they’ll be the one to catch you. Rumor has it there’s money.”
“Big money, too,” Johnson added. “But they talk big, bark loudly, but don’t even try.”
“Not us,” said Harvey. “If we wanted the paycheck we’d go into private security.”
Johnson punched my arm, then winced and shook out his hand. “It’s not so much of a secret that the police chief doesn’t actually mind having you around. He’s from our generation, the grizzled bastard. He keeps telling the younger guns to stop talking about you because they never actually try to do anything about you. So trust me, most of us are all bark and no bite. No sir.”
“That’s kinda weird hearing it come from the ground,” I said, back against the car now, turning my wrists so the metal could stop biting into my skin. “Mayor Blackwood and her daughter seemingly want more of you guys to deal with superhumans. Less supers and more humans on the streets and whatever Paul Macery is always arguing about. I swear, I could save the world five times over and the three of them would still have some kind of bone to pick with me regardless.”
But learning that the police didn’t entirely hate me, at least a segment of it, was reassuring. It was no wonder that they didn’t actively try and hunt me down after everything I’d been doing; they were too busy dealing with other human crimes rather than the superhuman on their side.
Johnson snorted. “I can’t really talk smack about my boss’ boss, but in all honesty, I do not want to deal with superhumans. Some of ‘em can push my skull out of my ass, and you think I want to do that because, what, some rich ladies want more humans in the limelight just because?”
“They want to make it political,” Harvery said. We both looked at him, waiting. He scratched his chin and hooked his hands back onto his belt. “The Olympiad is the government’s, not the Blackwood’s. Those two own Blackwood Pharma and Damage Control, so most of New Olympus if you think about it, and if they’re lucky, they’ll probably want to try and buy Belcrest Bank from Rick Goldstein by forcing themselves into his sector by making sure they need more of their services to protect more of their stock, enter Damage Control. The board wants to protect their stock. The police can’t really do that. The SDU works for the government, and they would rather keep their dealings off of the government’s hands so they can keep a bigger slice of the pie. Hire Damage Control, a private firm, and now you’ve got a doorway into more say in the company.”
And if, for example, they were at the bank last night, then the villains wouldn’t have gotten away, I thought. We stared at him, silent. Harvey nodded, then grunted again. He didn’t seem like the type to go over the news that frequently, or do his own digging, but hell, that’s the most sense I’d heard come out of anyone’s mouth in years. I strayed from politics because it didn’t make much sense to me, and I usually liked my problems to be punchable, but this had to be valuable to me.
“Well, don’t leave her hanging,” Johnson said. “She’s the superhero. She needs this.”
Harvey continued with, you guessed it, another grunt, though it was a little more enthusiastic this time. “Those two only want more humans dealing with more superhuman problems because the government is on the opposite side. Military contracts for superhumans are a no-go because of Cleopatra and her army and what happened in Saudi, too much destruction, not listening to anything the human generals had to say because an army of superhumans wouldn’t bother doing that, so Mary and Cassie fear monger. Make you all look like animals. They use you because you’re the biggest example. They want power and control. Divide and conquer, is my guess. What you do is important to everyone, especially the government with elections soon.”
“But why would they do that?” I asked. “The world is already pretty screwed right now.”
Harvey shrugged. “I don’t know, can’t read their minds. Maybe they just want more power. More money. We were briefed this morning that Damage Control is gonna start taking up watch through more boroughs. Nothing on what’s going to happen to the boroughs in Lower Olympus.”
“So it’s just going to get more annoying in the city for me soon,” I muttered.
“And the more you keep doing what you’re doing, the harder it becomes for the rest of you,” Johnson added quietly. “You’re not the exception you think you are, kid. You’re the rule.”
“The benchmark,” Harvey said. “The reason people are getting so divided right now; they want an angle they understand, a reality, and you’re giving them everything they need for that.”
“To make it simple,” Johnson said, “You’re the one they’ll point at as the face of Supers.”
It took a moment for that to sink in. For the gravity of what I was hearing to sink in past the blur of information filling my head. My mouth was dry as I spoke, my tongue curled. “Fuck,” I muttered. “You know, I had a friend who told me that I had a responsibility, but not that much.”
“There’s a reason Paul and Lucy have entire segments about you. There’s a reason Mayor Blackwood has to answer dozens of questions about you. Heck, even the president has to stop the reporters from asking what he’s going to do with you, because what he does to you is what people, normal people—the humans, no offense again—will want done to other superhumans. The Olympians got off clean because there were too many superheroes to stop. Now there’s really only a handful that nobody pays much attention to, and then there’s you: Zeus’ freaking daughter.”
“I think,” Harvey said, “That you’re too much of a focal point for him to criticize or stop. My guess is that he’ll use you before trying to get rid of you, but that’ll only come around election time.” He peered at me from behind his sunglasses, cocked his head. “Legal voting age yet?”
I shrugged. “Maybe, but I don’t really know who I’m supposed to be rooting for.”
Johnson patted my shoulder. “Neither do we, Goldie. Neither do we.”
“But if there’s ever been a more important vote, it’ll be yours,” Harvey said. “You’ll swing the ballot, judging by how the media takes it. Not every superhuman will follow you, but many will. Your best option? President Raymond gets another term in office. Better for your kind. More possibilities for superheroes if you want that, but it’ll be one hell of a mess getting that through congress. Slim chance. But not impossible, especially if you start getting more important. Save the city. Maybe the world if it comes down to it. They’ll fight, sure, but voting now is about the ‘pull.’ Who does the young crowd go with, who influences them to do that? They’re more emotional and want something for the future. Older guys like me ‘n’ John want the status quo to stay as it is. But you can’t deny someone who stopped the world from coming to an end, no chance of that at all.”
“So you’re saying I should be so much of a superhero I swing a freaking election?”
Harvey nodded. “If you want to put it like that, sure.”
Silence stretched between us as John and I stared at Harv. Birds flapped far above, and a black cat scampered across the hot pavement, chasing after a tiny rodent. He grunted again.
“I didn’t know you were into all of that mumbo-jumbo, Harv,” Johnson said.
He shrugged. “My son’s a political analyst. I like listening to him talk. I try to learn what I can so I can talk to him more. I’m just lucky I can tell someone who can do something about it.”
I didn’t even really know what I could do about any of that. I didn’t know what their end goal was by trying to split superhumans and humans apart, because my problems were here on the streets that nobody except me was cleaning up. Influencing an election wasn’t on my to-do list either, and that kind of weight swam around my stomach, making me feel a little queasy. I didn’t become a superhero for that reason, but if Harv was right, then it was slowly going to become a part of it. A very complicated part that was just going to get added to the stew of my already brewing life at the moment. Gods, things were getting a little harder, a lot more complex. Didn’t really know if I was smart enough to figure it all out, but somebody was going to have to do it.
And sadly for everyone in the city, that responsibility is on an eighteen year old’s shoulders.
A part of me wished I could pull a Superman and spin the world around until I was back in middle school so I could tell myself to enjoy eating mom’s pizza rolls and watching cartoons more.
I massaged my head, nodding. Alright. No clue where to start, so I’d deal with that later.
“You probably just saved thousands of lives. I don’t have a clue of what I’m gonna do about the Blackwoods, or an entire goddamned election, but I’ve got a friend in the SDU who’ll probably have a good idea. But I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. A lot that you guys might be able to help with if you want. It’s about Lower Olympus. About the gangs fighting down there.”
Johnson put up his hands in a mock surrender. “Not our department, Goldie. They’ve got me and Harv watching over the rich folk now because we know a lot more than they like and probably don’t want us spreading it. All I know is what you probably watch on tv every morning.”
“Well…” Harvey said, looking at his partner. A silent conversation happened between them, with me seemingly forgotten in the middle. They came to some conclusion, and Harvey was the one to look a little more antsy this time. “There’s a guy who used to be on the force last year.”
“Oh, brother,” Johnson muttered, rubbing his eyes. “There’s a reason he’s not on it.”
“Why’s he not on it anymore?” I asked. “And what does he have to do with L.O.?”
“Honestly, it’s a miracle that he was let onto it in the first place,” he said. “But I guess when your daddy’s the police chief, you can do whatever you want. But some lines don’t get crossed.”
“Ryan Kennedy,” Harvey said. “Private investigator in Lower Olympus now. Works somewhere out of a hole in the wall. Back alley bars, that kind of thing. Patriot Street. Know it?”
Know it? I practically live right there down the boardwalk. “I know it’s cliche, but you guys are freaking superheroes. I needed at least some kind of lead. Someone I knew how to get.”
Johnson laughed, pushing off the police car. His radio had been squeaking for the past five minutes, and it wouldn’t be long until the distant sirens would bring police cars with them. “When you meet him, I doubt you’re gonna think we’re superheroes. We just do this because we’re old and don’t really have anything else we’re good at. But if it means helping you, Goldie, then it also means I get to see my little girls every night. You save our bacon a lot more than you know.”
Harvey nodded, rounding the police car. “Whatever they say, you’re the only superhero we’ve got left in this city. I’ll only ask you if you could stop all the killing. I can’t show my daughter any videos of you being a hero if you’re covered in what used to be a supervillain.”
Johnson opened the side door. “And if I help you, it means my kid thinks I’m a hero, too. So yeah, maybe just tone down the murder a little, or do it not so publicly, then we’ll be talking.”
I smiled, teeth showing because how couldn’t I not? I barely ever heard someone say I was doing a good job, so it felt, well, good. Warm. Like I finally knew this was the right direction.
“Pretty lucky I got to meet up with you guys,” I said, snapping the handcuffs.
“We were meaning to talk to you, anyway,” Johnson said. “We would have even gone on the internet and, I don’t know—our kids would have contacted you somehow with their tech.”
I guessed their tech meant social media, which only made me smile a little more.
Harvey started the car, but I flew over to his window, because I had to figure out at least one more thing. “The pink glitter fingernail polish,” I asked him. “What’s all that about?”
He looked at it, then into the rearview mirror as the sound of squealing tires got closer. “I had to go to hospital for a general check up after you saved me. It was the first thing my daughter did when I got home. She gets sad and does stuff like this. I didn’t have the time to wash it off.”
Johnson smiled at me, and I figured that he wouldn’t wash it off regardless.
“It’s a little reminder,” he told me. “You should get one too from your family.”
“I’ve got this,” I said, tapping my chest, the lightning bolt going down my torso.
Harvey grunted. “That was your dad’s. Get something of your own that reminds you why you work as much as you do. It makes the harder times easier when you’ve got your own instead.”
I would have stuck around a little longer, maybe spoken to them more, but the cars were getting nearer, the sound of their sirens louder. I asked for some way to contact them, because having at least two people in the police force who could keep me updated on their side of things would be a massive help. All I got from Johnson was his wife’s business card, because it was technically illegal for them to give out their personal numbers to me specifically. Besides, it didn’t really matter, because I was far above the street by the time the other police arrived at their car.
A police car that looked a little roughed up, with its door torn open and a hole punched through the roof. Someone had to make it look like the superhuman was being a superhuman.
Even though that superhuman finally had a way to start saving Lower Olympus.