Super Shorts

Jane was terrified. 

This wasn’t all that unusual these days. Not since she had joined the Lone Star Protectorate as hero support personnel. 

In theory, she was a non-combatant. Her job was to hang back, out of range of whatever villain, monster, or anomaly her team was dealing with. She was there to provide first-aid to bystanders (and, occasionally to the heroes), tech support to the heroes, and moral support to all involved. All safely out of the blast radius of whatever death rays, negabombs, or otherworldly radiation her team was there to deal with.

In theory.

In practice, in the three months, two weeks, and five days that she’d been on the job, she’d been held hostage by supervillains either three or five times, depending on how you counted being held hostage by three different instances of the Ku Klux Klone in one battle. She’d spent three hours puking her guts out when Stench managed to get a tendril past her mask. Her current undercut was thanks to losing most of the hair on one side of her head to a blast of fire from the Infernal Flame.

So being terrified was not a new thing for Jane. It didn’t keep her from doing her job. By her tally she’d dragged thirty-four civilians to safety while her nigh-invulnerable teammates beat the snot out of supervillains; provided excellent tech support (her favorite achievement there was getting Tex Mech’s armor rebooted mid-combat, just in time to stop the onslaught of General Disaster), and generally done whatever job was required of her no matter what chaos reigned in the her immediate vicinity.

So, terror was not a new thing for Jane. 

What was new was her whole team being scared. Concerned? Of course, occasionally. Worried? On rare occasion. Once or twice she might even have caught a glimpse of fear in they eyes of one of the heroes. But terror? Never.

This call had seemed like it was going to be an easy one. All the report had said was that some newbie supervillain had taken up station on the Capitol grounds and was assembling an ominous looking device. Probably something the cops could have dealt with themselves, but dispatch followed procedure and put in a call to the Protectorate.

And now Athena, whose forcefield could withstand a tactical nuke, was quaking with terror, looking like she might flee at any moment. Jane couldn’t tell what was going on with Tex Mech through the opaque helmet, but he’d dropped to one knee. Even Darius, possibly the most powerful hero currently operating in Texas, was a quivering mess.

Without even turning away from his doomsday machine, this asshole calling himself Fear Itself was doing something to everyone. If he was that powerful, what chance did anyone have? Why did he even need the machine? What terrible thing was it going to do?

Filled with such abject terror, Jane did the only thing she could do. Her job.

Grabbing the tactical flashlight from her belt, she ran up behind the super and, before he could do more than start to turn, hit him across the back of the skull with all her strength. 

---

The debriefing was more annoying than usual.

At a normal debriefing, she’d be asked if her written statement was true and complete, she’d say yes, and then spend the rest of the meeting scrolling through her phone. Not today. 

FIrst of all, she hadn’t even had time to write up a report. The Protectorjet had flown them straight to headquarters, and she’d spent the flight half unconscious from adrenaline after-effects.

Second, people seemed pissed at her. Rather than sitting comfortably in the background, she was the center of attention. Then the Boss walked into the room.

The boss didn’t waste any time with pleasantries. “Ms. Smith, “ she asked, “how and why have you been concealing your powers?”

“What?” Jane was confused.

The Boss waved her phone toward Jane, letting her get a glimpse of the screen. It looked like a standard power scan report, with a null reading. “It’s been reported,” she glanced briefly toward Darius, “that you have powers, but—” She gestured at the null reading on the screen.

“I don’t get it.” Jane continued, “I don’t have any powers.”

“Liar!” Darius interjected.

“I—” Jane tried to speak.

“You took out that villain on your own, when the rest of us were completely disabled by his powers. Without powers of your own, how do you explain your immunity to his?”

“Immunity?”

The Boss broke in. “You were unaffected by the terror the villain inflicted on the team.”

“Unaffected?” Jane failed to completely stifle a laugh. “I was fucking terrified. I”

“But—” Darius tried to interrupt again.

Jane wasn’t having it. “I’m scared on every job we go on. You think I wasn’t almost pissing myself when General Disaster was charging at me at sixty miles an hour?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. “Do you think I wasn’t petrified when Maid of Dishonor was holding her sword across my throat? Or when your energy beam singed my cheek to blast her off of me?”

“But—” Darius tried again.

“Of course I was terrified this afternoon. What else is new?” Jane took a deep breath. “But if I let that stop me, I would have quit after my first day. Hell, I would never have taken this job.”

A moment of silence.

“May I go?” Jane asked. Normally, she’d stay for the whole meeting, but she really didn’t want to this time.

The Boss gave her a small nod, silencing Darius with a glance when he started to object.

---

“Jane.”

Jane looked behind her to see Daniel (he didn’t like to be called Tex Mech out of armor) walking after her. She slowed down and waited for him to catch up with her. She didn’t say anything.

“So,” Daniel finally started, when the reached the elevator, “You always feel that scared?”

Jane reddened with embarrassment, and a little anger. As if the debrief hadn’t already been humiliating enough.

“Not that bad. Not every time, anyway, but yeah.” Jane answered. She wouldn’t look at Daniel.

“Why the hell are you support?” Daniel asked.

“I’m sorry I’m such a coward. But I get the job done.” Jane said, halfheartedly. 

Daniel seemed surprised. “That’s ridiculous.”

Jane turned to face him.

“I do so!” Jane defended herself, “I—the team—hasn’t lost a civilian since I came on board!”

“What? No! That’s—”

“Then what?”

“I know you get your job done. The ridiculous part was you being a coward.” Daniel answered. “You are so not a coward.”

“I’m—” 

“You’re fucking amazing,” he broke in. “I’d never stopped to think what it’s like for you out there. When my armor went down, I was worried, sure, but even powered down, nothing’s really going to hurt me in there. But you could have been killed.”

“Don’t remind me.” The compliment made Jane just as uncomfortable as what she’d thought were insults.

“No, seriously. You’re the best. When I asked why you’re support, I just meant you could be more.”

Jane narrowed her eyes. “There’s something wrong with being support?”

“No—”

The elevator dinged as its doors slid open.

“Look,” Daniel started again, “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“Lunch?”

“I do eat.”

The elevator doors slid closed.