Death Makes Me Stronger, page 22
“John Harris,” the eagle-like receptionist said as I strolled into the building. “You don’t have an appointment.”
“I’m here to pick up a police manual, a radio, and my new costume from The Designer,” I flashed a smile and grinned down at the woman. “I heard that it should be ready.”
“The Designer doesn’t usually take on costumes for newbies,” she sniffed and started to tap into the keyboard. “He only helps those established heroes that are worth his--”
The sentence fell away as her bird-like eyes narrowed in suspicion. She tapped a few more times as if the receptionist couldn’t believe what the computer said, picked up the phone, and then sighed dramatically. If the eagle-woman had feathers, then they definitely would’ve been ruffled, and it took all of my self-control not to grin in satisfaction as she slammed the phone down.
“The Designer has your costume ready,” she said. “He’ll be here in ten minutes. Please feel free to grab your police radio and handbook. I shouldn’t have to remind you that you are still on a temporary license. You can only answer those calls that do not constitute a felony unless otherwise invited by another, more established, hero. You’ll go to the third elevator on the left, fifth floor, for your gear. And that same elevator to floor seventeen for your costume fitting.”
“Thanks,” I said and gave her a little salute. “I hope you have a great day.”
“Mmmhmm,” she narrowed her eyes and then ignored me the same way that she had before.
I’d have to ask Anora how to get on the eagle-woman’s good side, though it was hard to believe that she had one. It was almost impossible to tell how old she was since her beak-like nose covered most of her face, but there were fine lines around the receptionist’s eyes that had to be from years of squinting at people. I was sure that she was Junior’s age, and that meant that she’d been at the Hero Society before Golden Weaver, so my mentor would’ve had to go through the same process.
The elevator ride to the fifth floor wasn’t nearly as traumatic as the one for the interview, and I wondered if that was why the receptionist always specified which elevator to take. There was probably one that went underground, and I’d put money on that one dropping like a horror ride at a theme park. At least the third elevator on the left was a normal one, but it was a little boring after the thrill of the fourth one.
The doors slid open, and the robotic woman’s voice instructed me to go two doors down on the right. I was pretty sure that the eagle-woman put in the coordinates for each person so that the security system could track our movement, and a quick look around revealed several cameras. A good security system could never be overlooked, even with all of the superheroes around to jump in whenever necessary.
“Good afternoon,” a bored male voice said through a speaker. “Your new police radio and book are in the bin to the left of the door. I’ve already logged your information, and the numbers of each of your items, so please do not try to replace them with different equipment should yours be lost or stolen. Do not make modifications to your radio. I have also included a communication device for any joint missions that you may be invited to. It is unlikely that this will occur as you still have a temporary license. However, if you are, then you will need to use the communication device to coordinate with the other heroes, the police, and the paramedics. You will put the device behind your right ear, on the bone, and then press and hold it for three seconds. Once you hear a beep you will be connected to the others on the system. Do not speak while others are speaking as it will confuse the system. Do not try to use it when you are not specifically invited into a joint operation. We will know. There is a locator and number associated with your specific communicator, so we will not only know when you are logged in, but where. Have a good day. Try not to die.”
The speaker crackled for a few seconds and then went completely silent as the monotone speech finally ended. I glanced up to see one of the cameras directly over the door and then went over to the pull tray on the left. The guy clearly wasn’t thrilled with his job, but he was efficient, and everything that I needed was inside when I pulled the bin out.
I flipped through the police procedure book until I reached the call numbers, smiled, and then flipped it shut. A stack of flash cards were in my future, and there was a brilliant goth woman that would be all too eager to help me memorize each one of them. I strolled back toward the elevator and studied the communicator that the guy had given me.
It was no bigger than a dime, and just as flat as one, but there was a tiny switch that I’d have to use my nail to turn on. I wondered briefly how Anora managed to flip it with the gloves on, but then remembered that she didn’t wear them on patrol, and there weren’t a lot of stories of Golden Weaver working together with any of the other heroes. Still, she might use it with me, though we might have Paul try to replicate it so that we’d be on our own radio frequency.
The elevator dinged, the doors slid open, and I climbed in before it started to move up to the seventeenth floor like it already knew where to go. I stuffed the communicator and procedure book in my back pocket and then turned over the police radio in my hand. There wasn’t much time to look at it before I arrived, but it didn’t seem like anything impressive, or high tech, so it wouldn’t be that hard to figure out later.
“Mr. Harris,” a man’s smooth voice echoed through the empty room as the doors slid open.
A man in a dark gray pinstripe suit stood on the other side of the pristine white rectangular room. The entire floor was lined with windows that let in tons of natural light, and it all reflected off of the white and gray marble floors to make it seem like I was stepping out into the sky. There were racks of clothes to the left and right, a walkway for the heroes to strut and show off their costume, and a platform surrounded by mirrors.
It was exactly what I’d pictured a bridal shop would look like, though my only married friend was Mike, and Ina hadn’t invited me for dress shopping. My own sisters hadn’t invited me to their fittings, either, even though they knew how interested I was in the forbidden land of women. Which, if I was honest, was probably the exact reason that I’d been left out of the days-long shopping expeditions.
The only occupant of the room was the man who had addressed me, and everything about him screamed that he was The Designer. Even his white shoes had been shined so well that they reflected the sun outside, and his steel-colored hair had been slicked back so that not one strand was out of place. There was something regal about the way he stood in the center of the floor with the smallest smile as if his mere presence often rendered people speechless.
“You must be The Designer,” I said and walked over to shake his hand. “I appreciate you designing my costume. Honestly, I thought that it would take longer.”
“Pish, posh,” he said and shook my hand with remarkable strength. “If Golden Weaver says that it’s a necessity, then it is. She’s a real hero. Not one of those ridiculous… Well, I’m sure that you can guess. Now, she told me that you were invulnerable to all sorts of stabbings and gun blasts, but I did splurge a little, and some of the material for your costume is bulletproof. Just to give the illusion that it might hurt you.”
The Designer led me over to one of the racks of clothing and pulled out a black long-sleeved shirt. There was a v-like shape that stretched from the shoulders to the middle of the chest and was made out of some kind of thick corded material that I assumed was the bulletproofing. It would cover my heart and lungs well enough that any hits there wouldn’t impact me enough to slow me down.
I turned it over to see that the same symbol went over the back, and there was a small silver medallion between where my shoulder blades would be with what looked like the stamp of sunrise. It wasn’t too detailed, but the hero name that Raven had come up with was printed on the top big enough that bystanders would be able to read it. I even found a small pocket on either side of my ribcage that stretched to fit almost my entire arm.
“This is really nice,” I said and pulled off my shirt to try on the new costume.
The fabric was just tight enough to show off the muscles that I’d gained over the last few months, and it was so smooth that I almost felt naked. If all the superheroes outfits were made out of the same stuff, then it was no wonder that they could move around so easily despite how tight everything was.
“I’m glad you like it,” The Designer smiled and then held out a pair of cargo pants. “Golden Weaver said that you’d need a pair of pants to match. Something with a lot of pockets. There’s also a belt sewn in right here. You can put whatever you need there. She said that you may be carrying tasers around. Ah. Speaking of which, she said that this outfit should be waterproof and shockproof. Truly a wonderful combination. I do love a challenge. Go ahead and try these on and then come stand on the platform. No one leaves in one of my costumes without being fitted.”
“Sure,” I said and followed his finger to the privacy screen half-hidden behind one of the racks. “Thanks.”
The Designer eyed me for a second, and I could almost see the calculation in his head about what he needed to change before the session was over. It didn’t take long for me to change into the pants, though they were more like skinny jeans than the baggy ones that I was used to. Still, they were made of the same soft material as the shirt, and they stayed on my hips even as I hopped up and down a few times.
“How do they fit?” The Designer asked as I came over to the platform.
“Amazing,” I said as I squatted down. “No tugging or pinching.”
“Of course not,” he said and waved a hand like the idea was ludicrous. “Now, stand still while I make adjustments. By the time you leave here you’ll be ready to fight crime.”
“Thanks,” I grinned and tried to remain as still as possible despite how excited I was.
Everything was finally coming together, and soon my superhero name would be the talk of the town, though the only thing that really mattered were the people that needed my help. The notoriety was just to make me a permanent member of the Hero Society, but after that, my mentor and I could focus on those who couldn’t defend themselves.
“There you go,” The Designer said after what seemed like an eternity.
I couldn’t feel pain in my skin anymore, but damn did my muscles ache from standing in the exact same position for hours. It would definitely be good training for later missions, but my butt had gone numb an hour ago, and The Designer had refused to give me any breaks. I’d managed to convince the focused man to allow me to listen to the police radio just to fill the silence, but any conversation was completely out of the question once the changes started.
“Thank you,” I sighed with relief and stepped down from the platform. “I’ve never wanted to move so much in my life.”
“You’ll have to get used to that as a hero,” he said and started to pack up. “Especially if you’re going to be Golden Weaver’s mentee. She’s a patient woman, like most spiders when they hunt their prey. She once told me that she stayed in the exact same place on the side of a building for a full day to get intel on a sex-trafficking ring on the southside. Wonderful hero. I’d actually pay money to be there when the others find out that she took an apprentice. Of course, your particular powers are the only ones worthy of the task.”
“How much do you know about my powers?” I asked and stretched out my sore body.
“Just what I need to know for your costume,” he said and snapped his briefcase closed. “There’s no need to fret. I’ll take my secrets with me to the grave. It’s why I can work for both the heroes and the villains. Of course, it does mean that the government has turned the screws on me a few times, but I have an invaluable skill that they need, and a tight tongue is important in our line of business.”
“Naturally,” I nodded. “I appreciate all of your hard work. This costume is perfect. Not sure what else you’ll need to do, but I’ll let you know. What do I owe you?”
“Nothing,” The Designer waved his hand and led me toward the elevator. “The Hero Society pays me. It will come out of your first paycheck from them, which means that you’ll have practically nothing. Luckily, your outfit wasn’t too expensive. Though, the modifications to ensure that your suit won’t burn or melt in a fire or conduct electricity will cost a little extra, and the--”
His sentence was cut off by the elevator doors opening, and he glanced up at the cameras inside but didn’t say anything else. As I thought about it, I realized I hadn’t actually seen a camera anywhere on the seventeenth floor, and no one else had come to visit while I was there. The Designer probably had the place swept for bugs to ensure his clients’ privacy, and it made me like the regal man that much more.
I slipped on the black mask that came with my costume and then strolled into the elevator with him. The mask didn’t have the extra cameras that Golden Weaver had, but the eye covers made it seem like I was missing the orbs, or maybe completely blind, but the reality was that I could see everything with perfect clarity. The mouthpiece was also nonexistent, but the fabric breathed even better than the rest of the suit, and I took a deep breath just to let it out slowly and appreciate the marvelous creation.
We rode in silence down to the first floor, and then The Designer strolled out of the building at a leisurely pace. The man had confiscated the rest of my clothes and said that they were too terrible to put back on in his presence, but the gear that the other guy had given me was currently stuffed in my belt and pockets. I’d also managed to snag my wallet and cellphone before the super had managed to steal my clothes, and those were tucked into one of the secret pockets on my side so that they wouldn’t fall out.
“Don’t die, Osiris,” the eagle-woman’s voice came from the receptionist desk as I passed.
Her sharp eyes roamed over the hero’s costume that I had on, and she nodded in satisfaction. It was the first sign of kindness from the usually irritated woman, and I waved since the mask made it impossible to smile at her. The receptionist sighed as if the motion had broken the spell, stood, and then started to gather her things without another look in my direction.
Excitement surged through me as I walked out of the lobby and into the night air. The entire day had passed while I stood on that pedestal, but my costume fit perfectly, and I’d been reassured that the material wouldn’t disappear in a puff of smoke no matter who I went up against. I felt like a real superhero, and it was time to patrol the streets.
The training session with Golden Weaver had been postponed for another day since both of us were busy. Something had come up for the spider-like woman with the police, and she’d texted me to say that I was on my own for the night. Anora planned to stop by my apartment around two a.m., after my first patrol, and I wanted to be able to tell her that I’d helped at least one person.
I made a mental note to find out if there was a super that could make me a hovercraft or something and then headed down the street. Raven had stopped by after work to pick up my car since I’d left the keys in the glove box, so I at least didn’t have to worry about it being towed again. All I had to do was stroll in the direction of my apartment building and hope that somebody needed aid.
A scream grabbed my attention near the shopping district, and I hoofed it over there just in time to see a purse snatcher take off toward me. The guy barely even noticed that there was a hero right in front of him before I clotheslined him and brought him down to the ground. He grunted and dropped the purse, but a tiny gun fell out, and the criminal was quick to pick it up and shoot it right in my face.
The bullet hit me on the chin just below my lip and flattened against my diamond-hard skin. Smoke filled the air between us from where the bullet had exploded out of the tiny gun, and the small projectile dropped to the ground with a tinkling noise as if it was nothing more than a penny.
“That was rude,” I said and then rubbed my jaw.
“How-- how the fuck?” the thief gasped with a look at the gun. The thief stumbled back a few steps in shock but then raced forward to hit me with the still hot gun barrel, but when the pistol hit me over my brow it did nothing more than the bullet had done.
I quickly grabbed his wrist and brought it down hard on my knee, and a sickening crack rang out right before he started to scream. The desperate man tried to punch me with his other arm, but I caught it under my armpit and then slammed my head forward. I hit him squarely in the nose, and snot and blood poured over his face and shirt while his eyes rolled into the back of the thief’s head.
He crumpled to the ground in a heap at my feet, and the gun skidded off into a nearby wall. A wet snoring sound came from the knocked out thief that reassured me that his nose hadn’t gone into his brain, and a disgusting snot bubble blew out from the guy’s mouth like a sickening gum bubble that refused to pop.
“Really. Right in the face,” I muttered and rubbed my jaw where the bullet had hit me.
There wasn’t any pain in my forehead, or jaw, but it was better to let everyone think that I could still feel pain even if it didn’t do any damage. A small crowd of people had already gathered nearby like they didn’t want to get into the middle of a gunfight, especially since my hero costume made it obvious that I was a super, and none of them knew anything about me, so my powers could do more damage than they expected.
“Oh, my goodness,” a little old woman said as she shuffled up to me. “Thank you so much for catching him. And I’m so sorry that he shot you with my little pea shooter. I’ve had it for so long that I forget that it’s in there. My late husband always told me to be armed, especially when I came into the city.”
“It’s not a problem,” I said and handed the woman the bag. “Luckily for both of us, I’m bulletproof. Did you want an escort home?”
“I can take her,” a female officer said as she and a man walked over. “Scotts, you take this low-life to booking. I’ll take the lady back home so this hero here can keep patrolling.”
There was a mixture of awe and sarcasm in the cop’s voice, though the look that she gave my mask showed more intrigue than anything else.
