Hero Super

Damn… is this really all I have?” Calvin asked himself, crossing his arms as he narrowed his eyes at the suspiciously small box on top of the bed filled with the entirety of his belongings.

In the box were a bunch of the commemorative mugs, a red second-hand headset, a couple of books he hadn’t read but bought because it had a cool cover, and a toothbrush. Apart from the box were his clothes, which have never left his pocket ever since he got it upgraded by Dox.

The box wasn’t everything, if he included the clothes and the food, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit pitiful at the sight.

He started looking around the room, squinting at every corner and surface to check for any other stuff he might own, even under the bed. “No… that can’t— did I really only buy clothes and food? Really? Goddamn… I’m not that poor anymore, right? Yeah! I’m just… ‘living smart’, thrifty. You never know what’ll happen and when you’ll need the credits…”

Despite his desperate coping, a new resolution formed inside of him. He activated the pocket and placed the box inside, sighing at the sight of the empty bed. Now there literally was nothing to his name outside of the pocket on his neck, the clothes on his back, and the half-emptied carton of eggs he left in the fridge.

Another somber sigh came from his lips as he sat down on the white bed. He ran his hands over the silky-smooth cloth, rolling over afterwards to give a heavy sniff and enjoy the floral scent. Clean and fresh, not a stain on the pillow nor mold on the sheets. At least, not anymore. Not after a few months ago after he had it laundered at the shop across the street. He spilled coffee on it at the time and figured he had no choice.

Now he wishes he spilled coffee on it the first day.

“Always thought this sheet was yellow. Fuck.” Calvin muttered, a shiver running down his spine as he remembered the months he was laying down on the filthy sheet, blissfully unaware of all the muck and grime absorbed from however many years of neglect.

He bolted up, his vivid imagination of the germs and viruses wriggling making him uneasy. Shaking off the newly formed phobia, he walked to the study table right across, cringing at the surface filled with mug stains and coffee spills. He didn’t use it much, if at all, outside of just having a place to put down his headphones. The most use it got was Sam, who often placed a mug of coffee, filled to the brim, on the table— whenever he was feeling generous.

‘Sam.’ The thought of the man reminded him of why he packed up early in the morning, having skipped his exercise routine for the sake of it even. He raised his watch and glanced at the time as the display popped up. “Five-thirty. This friend sure is an early bird.”

He flicked the display to show the messages. A newly added contact showed itself on top of the list, their recent and only messages are from the night before.

Merc: It’s Sam’s friend.

Merc: I’ll drop by tomorrow.

Merc: 5:30.

“Merc… short for mercenary, maybe?” Calvin wondered out loud. Sam being the evil smuggler that he is, it wouldn’t be surprising for his friends to have jobs of a similar nature. “Or did their parents hate them and actually named them Merc.”

He turned off the display and made his way to the doorway, pausing just as he stepped out. Turning around, he stared at the room one final time. It was small, it was dingy, and it was probably in violation of more than one set of building codes— but it was home. It was shelter he needed back when he had nothing in this new world.

“Enough of that.” He muttered. With a heavy thud, Calvin closed the door. He turned and walked to the living room, planning to watch the television before Sam’s unfortunately named friend arrived.

“Breakfast… I should cook up those eggs.” He muttered, turning to the fridge.

An easy decision and a swift cooking session later, he had a bowl of scrambled eggs in hand and a mug of coffee in the other. Using [Jumper], he bounded over the kitchen counter in laziness and landed on the couch, waving his hand towards the television to turn it on.

“Let’s see here—”, he started randomly flipping through the channels, eating a spoonful of eggs every so often, “Morning talk shows, bleh. Cartoons, life’s literally fantasy now. History channel? Hmm… maybe later. News channe— what the heck? Is that a dog?”

The presenter sitting behind a long desk, currently barking news to the camera, was a literal dog wearing a suit and glasses. The dog’s paws were somehow holding a piece of paper despite not having opposable thumbs, reading it out loud while adjusting its glasses every now and then.

“That’s new,” Calvin muttered, raising the volume with a gesture.

“—this morning with a developing story that has shocked the entire city of Bastion. Members of the Central City Council are currently held hostage by a new Supervillain group calling themselves The Mean Machines. Authorities are currently working tirelessly and collaborating with Vanguard heroes to resolve the situation. Our correspondent Mike Petulis is on the scene with the latest updates. Mike, what can you tell us?”

“Pft. The Mean Machines?” He chuckled at the blatantly narcissistic name, crossing his arms and leaning back as he continued eating.

Chaotic cameras tried their best to get shots of the entire situation. Superheroes doing fuck all, floating and glaring at the building. A flag of the Supervillain group being strung up for dramatic effect. A bird’s eye view of the building with dramatic zoom-ins.

He felt more like he was watching a movie rather than breaking news.

“That sounds like a good name for a rock band,” Calvin commented, talking to himself.

“Bunch of drama queens, if you ask me.”

“I guess? I mean their logo looks a bit too much? A robot—”, Calvin froze.

Immediately dropping the bowl of eggs, he used [Jumper] and made as much distance as he could from the couch. Simultaneously, he activated his pocket and summoned a stun stick a second later, all the while pulling on the least-used and arguably most powerful card on his deck, [Vigilant Aegis].

He brandished the stick forwards, pointing it towards the person sitting beside where he sat earlier. “Who the fuck are you?!”

A white-haired woman, sitting back in a relaxed manner, was nonchalantly watching the news while holding onto the bowl of breakfast he had let go of. There was a tinge of familiarity as he stared at this woman, but he couldn’t pinpoint where he had seen her before. Or if he even actually had seen her before.

‘She looks ordinary…’ Calvin thought, his stance relaxing slowly as his attention started getting pried away from the woman. ’Maybe she’s not that dangerous? Maybe she’s just here to watch televisi—‘

His eyes widened at the blatant distortion of his thoughts— the woman was using a power. Immediately his escalating surprise and apprehension towards the trespasser was replaced, and a familiar dizzy spell started assaulting him at an unfortunate time. His vision swirled and blurred, the haze of nausea more continual than prior experiences.

“Fucking telepaths.” He growled through gritted teeth, trying to focus on the woman.

“What’s with you?” The woman asked, almost flabbergasted by his reaction.

“Took the words out of my fucking mouth. I asked who the fuck are you?”

“Language, kid.” She said, letting out a chuckle. “Relax, I’m Sam’s friend, the one who’s supposed to take this shitty apartment from you.”

“Name!” Calvin shouted, about to collapse from the nausea.

“Damn.” The woman's brows furrowed, “Merc. You don’t have to shout ki—”

“If you’re Sam’s friend then why the fuck are you using your fucking power on me?! Goddamn— please… stop— it’s making me— ugh.” He doubled over, covering his mouth while considerably paling.

“My power? Ah shit, sorry about that.”

The nausea stopped, immediately followed by the sound of a click. Unfortunately, it was too late. Calvin used [Jumper] as fast as he could, his mind too hazy to care for the other person in the room, bouncing over to the kitchen sink to use his other least-used and unfortunate card— super projectile vomit.

Half of the scrambled eggs and all of last night’s dinner, all fed to the super rats in the sewers.

“Holy shit— are you okay, kid?” Merc asked from behind his barfing ass, walking closer to him from the couch.

“What the fuck do you think?” Calvin spat out after vomiting. “You mental Gimmicks keep fucking using your powers on random people.”

“Didn’t know you’d barf from it. Sorry, kid.”

“Of course you didn’t.” He groaned.

Calvin proceeded to wash his mouth of acid and debris, his anger burning inside all the while. After a few gargles, he turned to glare at the cause.

Finally able to get a clear look at her without the haze of nausea, he almost gasped as he saw how beautiful the woman was. Her white hair and gemstone-like ruby eyes shone brightly against her dark skin, but even more radiantly was the shine of the silver shard embedded above her brow, running up and back down behind her ear like they were wires plugged into a network.

There was much more to say about the woman, but the most prominent thing, even more striking than her beauty, was the unfortunate fashion choices she seemed to be making. Calvin’s study of [Colour Control] and Quinn’s insistence on using it for her clothing had made him rather sensitive when it came to colours. And the woman’s clothes were akin to a crayon-eating-child’s vomit.

Calvin glanced at the woman's wrist, finding a pair of familiar handcuffs worn like bracelets. Lowering his guard lightly, he focused back on her face, “How’d you get in?”

She smiled and raised her hand, a metallic jingle ringing out as she summoned a keychain from thin air. “Vincento gave me a copy of the keys.”

“Vincento?”

“The landlord.”

“…Vince’s full name is Vincento?”

“Tragic, right?” Merc said with a giggle.

“Maybe that’s why he’s grumpy all the time,” Calvin muttered, relaxing his suspicion more, but still brandishing the stun stick before he got confirmation.

He brought up his holowatch and opened the display, swiping to the messaging app. He took a moment to find a particular contact, one he’d actually never messaged before.

Me: thers a white hair woman in apartment

Me: calls herself merc

Me: is she legit

Vince: Is she wearing shitty pink crocs

Calvin glanced down at the woman’s feet. He didn’t even know Crocs existed in this world, and that they looked the same as he remembered— exactly as Vincento described.

Me: yea

Vince: That’s her

“Couldn’t have fucking warned me you gave her the keys? Fucking Vince—ento. Vincento, pft…” Calvin’s shoulders sagged as he finally released the breath he was unconsciously holding. “Haah… I almost had a heart attack, lady. Why couldn’t you just knock?”

“You wouldn’t have heard it, kid,” Merc said, shrugging before she raised her wrist and shook it. “You got the form?”

He gave the woman an exasperated and annoyed stare, feeling the fire in his chest reignite from her nonchalance. He calmed himself, pausing for a moment to take a deep breath and cool his chest, before sending a nod of affirmation to answer her question. With a thought, he brought up the holowatch and opened the file, re-checking his signature before sending it to the white-haired woman with the sassiest flick he could muster.

Without even reading, the woman swiped to the last page of the form, signed, then sent a copy back.

He looked over the file, his brows furrowing as he looked back at the woman, “that’s it?”

She nodded, sending him a mocking smirk. “What? Do you want more? Should we sign with blood on parchment or something?”

“I don’t know— just thought you’d look through it or something. Or maybe call a lawyer.” Calvin said defensively. “Was just asking…”

Merc chuckled. “Ha! A lawyer to handle a lease for this shitty place. This is Outer City, kid. This form may as well be a pinky promise between the two of us for all anyone cares.”

“Why’d we have to sign it then?”

“Old Vincento’s a stickler for paperwork.” She explained. “He loves having paper trails, just in case.”

“He doesn’t look like he cares for shit like that.”

“He didn’t use to, I think.”

Calvin briefly mused at the use of the term ‘paper trail’, he’d barely seen any of the stuff ever used in this world that wasn’t for his buttocks.

“You’re Sam’s friend?” He asked the woman while walking back to the couch.

“Unfortunately.” Merc nodded.

He glanced at her briefly, obvious hesitation from his clenched jaw. “—have you heard from him? It’s been half a year since he… uh, went away.”

Merc shot him an amused look, “He should be fine, no need to worry. That man’s a roach if nothing else, he’d survive and find his way through hatchling territory if he had to. Either through dumb luck or even dumber un-luck for the hatchling. Trust me, Sam’s survived worse.”

“Do you at least know where he is?” Calvin pushed.

Merc shook her head, “He’s not in Bastion, I can tell you that much.”

“I already know that much.” He sighed, slumping on the couch.

She shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you then, you probably know more than me. He just sent me a message to take care of this shithole’s lease before disappearing for months. That’s just how it is with him.”

“This happens a lot?”

“With him, yeah. He’s sly like that, disappears like a ghost when he wants to.”

Calvin nodded, “That’s probably how he was surviving as a smuggler. I mean, with how he usually acts, it just makes sense I guess.”

“Smuggler?” She asked with a confused tone before chuckling. “Ah, yeah, of course. He’s a ‘smuggler’.”

‘Ah fuck… did she not know he was a smuggler? Damn it. Sorry, Sam.’ Calvin scratched his cheek from his slip. “By the way, when are you moving in?”

Merc looked at him with incredulity, “I’m not moving into this shithole? Are you kidding me? Who would want to stay—”, she paused, looking at Calvin, “—ahem, no, I’m just holding the lease so Vincento doesn’t get any ideas and throw away Sam’s stuff. Although, it’s cleaner than I remember, did you throw away his stuff already?”

“Jammed it all in his room, couldn’t stand the clutter.”

“Makes sense, Sam doesn’t clean up.”

“Never seen him try.”

“Neither have I—”, Merc chuckled.

“If anything he’d deliberately make a mess, don’t know if that’s just how he was or it was just to fuck with me.”

“That’s just how he is— worked this one time with him, a job in… well, that doesn’t matter. He’s a capable man... and does stellar with what he can do until you try and actually work with him. He’ll cock shit up if it doesn’t go the way he likes it, you know?”

’Was that how he is?’ Calvin thought, discovering facets of Sam he never knew. “Is that how you know him?”

“It’s how anyone knows anyone in the ’industry’.” She said while miming air quotes.

’Oh, so she knows he’s a smuggler. Good.’ He sighed in relief before shooting a nod at her. “I see.”

“Anyway, is there anything else you need?” She glanced at her holowatch.

Calvin pulled out a key from his pocket, placed it on the counter, and slid it towards the woman. “I was thinking of leaving today.”

Her brows raised at his words. “Already?”

“Better now than later, I thought.”

“If that’s what you want. You all packed up now?” She asked, to which Calvin replied with a nod. “Let’s go then.”

Calvin followed her to the door, pausing just as he stepped out. He turned around, feeling an unknowable pressure in his chest as he stared back at the room.

“What is it?” Merc asked from behind him.

“Nothing. Just—”, he hesitated momentarily, “—how annoyed would Sam be if I took the TV?”

Merc smirked. “Very.”

“Nice,” Calvin jogged to the most expensive appliance and put it in his pocket. “Compensation for house-sitting.”

He jogged back outside and let Merc close the room behind him. She locked the door before taking out a small badge-like trinket from inside the breast pocket of her vomit-coloured coat. She placed it on the door, the badge magically grabbing onto the wood before letting out a subtle hum and changing its material to blend in with the wood.

“What’s that?” Calvin spoke, wanting to reach out and poke the object.

“Anti-theft stuff. I won’t be here most of the time after all.”

“…I’m technically not stealing the TV, okay? It’s compensation.”

“I didn’t see anything,” she winked, “Anyway, that’s me gone. See you later Calvin.”

“Yeah.” Calvin nodded back.

After saying their goodbyes, the two awkwardly headed in the same direction and walked downstairs side-by-side, trying their best not to look the other in the eye. Thankfully, their path diverged once they reached the bottom floor, where another awkward farewell was uttered between them.

Calvin was about to go to the sauna and enjoy it one last time before he was stopped by someone smacking the back of his head.

“Who the— ah!” He turned around and quickly looked away as if blinded by terrible light. “Cover up your wrinkly ass old man! You’re gonna make me barf again!”

“It’s a bathrobe, it’s supposed to be open, Cal.” The old man grumbled, smacking the back of his head again.

“It’s supposed to cover you up!”

“I am covered up. Stop nagging, you sound like my grandson.” The old man said with another smack. “I thought I had Vince tell you to come by yesterday?”

“Vince… Vincento made me guess,” Calvin said as he turned around, trying not to look at the old man’s saggy old-man-boobs.

“Well, you guessed wrong. Now come, let’s talk in the training hall.” He beckoned, pushing Calvin out of the way.

“Why?” He asked, jogging along.

“Remember what you asked about last month? Well, since you’re about to leave the building, I figured I might as well tell you now rather than later.”

Calvin paused, looking at the old man’s back, “really?!”

“Yeah, now stop talking, let me enjoy some silence before you bombard me with questions.”

He nodded, a smile forming ear to ear. ‘Power evolutions! Finally!’