Volume 2: Prophase
Issue 3: Sanctum
Jannette Adrian Churchwell
By Nova
The sun cut through my window blinds, waking me from uneasy dreams. It was all too familiar, especially after a late night’s patrol. I found myself staring at the gray ceiling, the events of last night running through my mind. I had collapsed into bed almost immediately after I got home, the sheer exhaustion of the evening finally catching up to me.
I checked the clock and found that I had slept ‘till noon, which wasn’t as late as I would have liked. With a groan, I pulled myself out of bed and shuffled to the window. I peeked outside. The usual vista greeted me: a street of strip-malls, pawn shops, and other low density commercial buildings typical of my slice of San Jose. It was a crappy part of town, but I knew it better than anywhere else at this point.
Plus, it was the only place I could afford with just the stipend… A few thousand dollars a month from the state so long as I kept up a decent patrol habit. California’s hero stipend was one of the better ones in the country, but it still wasn’t enough to live… luxuriously.
Especially since I didn’t do sponsorships anymore.
I went to make myself a cup of coffee. Not because I needed to, my powers had long since rendered any caffeine I ingested useless, but it was still comforting.
And I needed some comfort.
Superheroics was never easy, but last night was just a fresh reminder. I was the healer of the Bay who just let three patients die, and I wasn’t even able to catch all their murderers. It wasn’t just embarrassing, it was exhausting.
I just wished this was the first time something like this had happened.
I drained the last of my coffee and sat down at my computer with a bowl of dry cheerios. I had deleted all my social media not long after I got my powers, but it was hard to beat a decade of doom-scrolling habits. I hopped from a gaming blog, to a webcomic, before finally settling on PowerWatch—against my better judgment.
I checked them daily, although the only thing they usually showed me was how stressed out I could get in a morning. Still, I found myself wondering what they had written about last night’s skirmish… They had a camera crew on scene, so they clearly saw the thing as a big story.
And I wasn’t wrong. While the top headline on the website read: “POWERFIGHT AT CHAPEL HILL HIGH,” with a picture of flashing, eye-catching, sirens under it, below it was another article: “LATE NIGHT SHOOTOUT IN MISSION DISTRICT.” No mention of Stitch in the headline—which was fine with me—but I decided to read the article anyways:
----------------------------------------
LATE NIGHT SHOOTOUT IN MISSION DISTRICT
AMELIA SCHAAL
----------------------------------------
San Francisco, January 27th. The residents of San Francisco’s Mission District awoke to the sound of gunfire last night as two rival gangs engaged in a shooting with each other. While no bystanders were hurt, three people were killed as a result of the fighting last night. While arriving too late to stop the conflict,
I glared at the computer.
Stitch prevented further escalation and was able to keep one of the wounded alive, and capture three of the four other perpetrators. While police have not disclosed many details, they have reported that there was no evidence of a villain presence at the conflict and have attributed the violence to the rivalry between the First Way and Los Reales gangs.
That wasn’t really what me and Ramirez had discussed, but I suppose it made a better sound bite than “we have no idea what’s going on.”
When asked whether the shootout had any connection to last night’s powerfight at the nearby Chapel Hill High School, police refused to speculate, saying that there was not enough evidence to draw any conclusions. Nevertheless, they advised anyone who may have any information regarding the two cases to come forward.
PowerWatch will be keeping people updated as the situation proceeds. Follow us on social media to make sure you’re up to date on all the recent happenings in the Bay.
412 reactions | 131 comments
I wasn’t in the mood to trawl through the comments, but the article still had me thinking. Was there really a connection between the shootout and whatever happened at Chapel High? I clicked on the high school article and leaned forward to read it.
----------------------------------------
POWERFIGHT AT CHAPEL HILL HIGH
AMELIA SCHAAL
----------------------------------------
San Francisco, January 27th. Last night, a powerfight broke out after school at Chapel Hill High School, but not a traditional one by any means. Police had been investigating the murder of a teacher at the high school, which occurred only a few days prior, but had not been able to identify a suspect. It came as a surprise when the night janitor reported sounds of fighting and “roaring” in the school’s theater. When police arrived, they found a shocking scene: a large creature, unlike any known animal, crushed under a stage prop intended for the school’s upcoming performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
According to police forensics, insect stings covered the creature, but it seems the prop dealt the final blow. A note was placed on the body, which read “You’re welcome” and was signed by the “Heroes of Chapel High.” Police have not identified who exactly these “heroes” are, nor have any heroes come forward to claim responsibility. Police have urged these heroes to come forward in order to comply with California’s Hero Licensure Laws, but their refusal to identify themselves indicates a desire to stay private for now.
Police have been unable to identify an origin for the creature, and are refusing to speculate as to where, exactly, it came from. They have declared that they are launching a “full” investigation into it in order to ensure that nothing else like it is stalking the city.
It is believed that the creature was responsible for the death of Albert A. Howells—a biology teacher at Chapel Hill High School. Fortunately, no other students or faculty are believed to have been attacked by the creature. However, the remains of at least two other people were found in the creature’s “nest” below the stage. Police have urged anyone with information on missing persons to come forward so that these people can be identified.
PowerWatch will be following this case closely as more details emerge. Follow us on social media to make sure you’re up to date on all the recent happenings in the Bay.
652 reactions | 221 comments
I pushed myself back from my desk and sighed. New heroes, weird gang activity, and a mysterious monster all happening the same night? Something weird was going on… even weirder than usual. I got up and began pacing the room, still in my pajamas. Despite Ramirez’s warning, I couldn’t help but feel like there really was a connection here. I couldn’t quite explain it yet… but maybe the First Way or Los Reales was connected to this monster attack.
I went to get ready. Some heroes I knew operated out of abandoned buildings, caves, or—if they were with a big enough team—entire complexes. I didn’t have that. I, instead, had a locked door in my bedroom. I opened it to reveal my sanctum… which was little more than a refurbished walk-in-closet.
Some heroes would question putting my sanctum in my own home… but I never had guests anyways.
My sanctum had my costume, and several back-ups, hanging on one side while the opposite wall was covered in maps of the Bay Area. Underneath the costume was a desk, with sewing material strewn across it. When I needed full repairs I went to the Professional, but in a pinch I could do it myself. Shelves occupied every available space, allowing me to store tools, emergency snacks, and other useful items.
Since my costume was almost identical to my old work clothes—and had originally been my old scrubs with the addition of a thrifted lab coat—I could probably make a fairly convincing argument that, despite the maps, this was just a regular closet… if it wasn’t for one particular feature of my sanctum. On the wall opposite to the door I had my “trophies.” I had newspaper clippings—and printed out news articles—hanging up detailing my most public successes, press photographs of me, and even the medal I received from the President after I went to Albuquerque to help stop the New Mexico Meltdown.
It was, genuinely, motivating to see them. I had done a lot to help people, and I accomplished a lot more than most heroes, too. There were thousands of heroes across the country who only stopped petty crime, or fended off c-lister villains. I, meanwhile, helped bring down the Gentleman, Conscience, and brought an end to Suture’s cartel. I’ve saved thousands of lives, tens of thousands! I was a superhero! Ramirez might have been right if I was a newbie, or a regular cop, but I was Stitch! If anyone could figure out what was going on, it was me.
I started digging through my shelves, grabbing tools I thought I might need. I grabbed some wire cutters, a lockpick, and a Geiger counter. Each of these I set on the desk underneath my hanging costume; an action kit in progress. As I set up, I began excitedly planning out my investigation. First, I’d hit up some old Los Reales haunts I knew about… Felipe’s, South Docks, and maybe even Larry’s Place if things got desperate. I wouldn’t be welcome… but I bet more than a few of them had family at Chapel High. If I waved the white flag, and told them about my suspicions, I might be able to get a few answers out of them.
As I planned, I dug through my sanctum. I drew up plans of attack against the First Way, weighing myself against them. The goons wouldn’t stop me, unless they got a lucky headshot with something seriously high-caliber. But, if I ran into one of their villains, there could be trouble. Sasquatch was the most likely—he was basically their man in the Bay Area. I’d ran up against him on more than one occasion, and each fight was harder than I’d like. He was strong, damn near invincible, but slow and made of meat like almost everyone else. While it would be a little worrying, I could handle him alone, if I had to. But that wasn’t the case for all of them. While some were worse than others, the only one I was really worried about was their leader; Red Queen. She was strong, crazy, and had the speed to put me down before I could even act. I didn’t have much that could stop her… but I searched for my trusty baton nonetheless. A lucky blow from it could, at the very least, buy me a few moments to regenerate.
After a few minutes of searching, I found the baton in one of my bottom shelves in its collapsed state. Functional, if a little dusty. As I pulled it out I noticed, beneath it, a stack of familiar photos. I set the baton aside and, slowly, brought the pictures to view. While the background was different, the foreground in all of them were almost all the same. It showed me next to a familiar figure with blonde hair and a pair of brilliant white wings. She wore an elegant white robe, her arms bare, and she towered over me in the picture. She was only around six feet tall, but even in the picture she seemed larger than life. She flashed a pure white grin at the camera, looking superior to everything around her—especially me. I looked uncomfortable, even then, and was only there thanks to her arm wrapped around my shoulder, an inescapable vice. To those who didn’t know her, Seraph didn’t look threatening or strong, but angelic. A perfect paragon of truth and virtue, beautiful and just.
I knew the truth.
The first picture was of us after we took down the Gentleman, a feat which nearly killed the both of us, though you couldn’t tell with her. I had just started out then, Seraph had taken me under her wing on only my second week out. I saw her true side pretty quickly, but I was too scared to do anything but heal those she brought to me. I “proved” myself to her after I saved her from the Gentleman’s gas attack. I thought it would change things between us… but it didn’t.
I might have saved Seraph but she still dealt the final blow against the Gentleman, a trend that repeated itself in all the other pictures. One was us at the New Mexico Meltdown, another was after we broke up the Mechanoid Cartel. In each one I was little more than the thing that kept her fighting longer, kept her victims alive long enough to make it to trial.
Not one of the accomplishments hanging on my trophy wall were mine. They were hers. She made me her tool… and ever since I left I haven’t been able to do half of what she did using me. I dropped the pictures back on the shelf and I put all the tools I had gathered away. The only thing I left out was my old baton, which I put near the snacks. Maybe if I had it last night I would have been a little quicker.
I left my sanctum, locking it behind me.
Ramirez was right. If the First Way was really up to something, the cops would figure it out. I’d hear about it. Maybe then I’d do something, start my investigation with the police doing the actual work while I’d run clean up. It’d be like old times, I suppose, and I’ve always been good at clean up.
It was only 1 PM but I was exhausted. I crawled into bed and checked my phone. I had a text from Ripple,
> I heard on the news that a monster was eating people in the Mission District. U think its connected to ur investigation?
I sighed. “My” investigation, huh? She was the one who said I should look into the missing homeless people, was it just not worth her time to involve herself? I thought about texting her something about “wild goose chases” but decided against it. I’d talk to her some other time about the stuff, I didn’t really want to deal with it right now.
I threw the covers over my head and felt myself dozing off. I’d do a patrol this evening, maybe. Tomorrow morning if I couldn’t. But no matter what, I was just too tired to do anything right now.
I went to sleep.