At the end of the bar, two men poked one another, thinking they were being subtle. As they shimmied down the bar to get a better look at my face, I pulled the hood further over my head. It’d only take a text to their friends or a post on the HeroApp™, and trouble would find me. It seemed harmless enough, that is, until the wrong villain was scrolling while sitting on their couch. Minutes later and I’d be trading blows, wrecking Mick’s bar.
“You two.” Mick slung the towel over his shoulder. “Get out.”
One man tried to protest, but Mick shooed them away. As they reached for their wallets, he told them the drinks were on the house and he saw them to the door. Did I mention Mick was good people?
He returned to the opposite side of the bar, shaking his head. “Damn kids and their need for validation on a damned app. You wouldn’t catch me dead on those things. Back in my day—”
“Walked to school uphill both ways?”
He pulled the towel from his shoulder and snapped it against my forehead. “No. If you wanted to talk to a guy, you said hello. If you want to pound him, you took him into the bathroom. Now they woof at one another like pups in heat.” He paused as he popped the cap off another beer and slid it in front of me. “And they best get off my lawn, too.”
It reminded me of the conversation this morning with the guys and their determination to find me a man. Since moving to Vanguard, I hadn’t so much as gone on a date, let alone thought about a relationship. I wouldn’t know how to date anymore. If they knew how long it took me to send a text, they’d consider me hopeless. The idea of joining a dating app and perusing men like a meat market? It struck me as cold and impersonal.
I hadn’t been willing to date when the world didn’t know my secret identity. Now it’d be impossible. The fear of a supervillain swooping in and using the people in my life against me had always been a concern. Now it’d be inevitable. I already had the guys checking in every few hours to ensure a villain hadn’t tied them up in a secret lair. It’d be Griffin. I’d wager a pretty penny he’d be the first kidnapped.
“You’ll find a way.” Mick snapped me back to reality. “You didn’t wake up one morning and decide to be Sentinel. It’s who you are. If you can’t help people wielding a giant axe, there are other ways.”
“You’re right, Mi—”
“And can we discuss this axe? You wield lightning like a god. Why are you carrying an axe like a vertically gifted dwarf?”
“Why do I wear a cape?” The public relations director in me would refer to the focus group data that said women 25-45 considered a hero wearing a cape to be more trustworthy. But men 18-35 liked a hero with a badass weapon. It was the price we paid for having corporate sponsorship.
“It’s like you read too many comics.”
“At least I don’t wear my briefs outside my pants.”
I pushed the empty bottle toward Mick and he replaced it with a full one. He snatched the bottle, never breaking eye contact. The intensity in his brown eyes made me shift. Just because I wielded one of the primal forces of nature didn’t mean my bartender couldn’t make me uncomfortable.
“Whatever it is, just say it,” I said.
“All this time, I imagined you as a boxer guy.”
I slammed back the beer until it ran dry. Pulling a fifty from my wallet, I dropped it on the bar. Mick politely pushed it back.
“Your money isn’t good here, Mr. Castle. You’ve saved the Ward more times than I can count. It’s me who owes you.”
When I formed the Centurions, the world needed heroes to stop an alien race from invading. Vanguard City threw us a parade. Once we formalized our arrangement, it became an expectation that we’d protect Vanguard. I didn’t need the praise, but I appreciated it. The pat on the back almost made the solitude worth it.
“Thanks, Mick.” I paused, then walked up to the bar. I grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer before planting a kiss on his forehead. “And for the record, it’s a jockstrap or nothing.”
3
Heroes have to hero.
No wizard imbued me with powers, no freak chemical accident, no insect bite. According to the Centurion museum, I willed myself to have powers. What does that even mean? The public relations coordinator in me understood. It’s hard to sell an epic-level tale when it starts, “Six years ago, I woke up hovering above my bed and could wield lightning.”
Centurion headquarters hadn’t texted me a hundred times informing me of disasters across the world. By this time of night, we’d have already stopped a giant lizard monster and defeated ancient gods. I checked my phone out of habit. Zero texts. The Centurions had run its course. I returned to being a free agent. I had attempted to squeeze into my original suit, but no luck. Tonight it was plain ol’ Bernard watching over Vanguard.
I forgot the patience required by heroes without a threat assessment team. High above the city, it almost appeared tranquil. The roads were filled with the warm orange glow of street lamps. Cars made their way home from a late night at the office. Even the windows filled with light, peppering the darkness of the Vanguard. To the casual observer, the Ward appeared peaceful, untainted by crime. But alas, that’d be a lie.
“Fancy meeting you up here.”
Cobalt, one of the Ward’s newer heroes. Telekinesis. He had upgraded his uniform to rich blue leather with white gloves, boots, and a cape. His dossier made note of his efficiency and his tendency to follow up with the victims of supervillains to ensure they were okay. I had watched him abandon a fight with a lava monster to save a school bus of children. He went into the good people category.
“Centurions or not—”
“Once a hero, always a hero,” he finished.
For the last hour, I had watched the flying protectors of Vanguard zipping out of the sky as they picked their targets. At first, I thought maybe they had hawk-like vision or super hearing, but it couldn’t be that common. I wanted to ask him what I was missing, but my pride swallowed the question.
“Sorry about the reveal.”
In the superhero community, a ‘reveal’ was one of the most heinous acts. With my face plastered on the television, every villain I ever locked behind bars itched at the chance to get their revenge. If they couldn’t hurt me, they’d resort to seeking the unpowered people in my life. It’s partially why, as Alejandro put it, my love life remained a barren wasteland.
“It’s okay.”
“How are the rest of the Centurions holding up?”
“We’ve disbanded.”
“Whoa.” I had all afternoon to dissect the monumental weight behind that statement. Without the Centurions, it meant heavy hitters like the Raiders and Cyber Squad were left to protect Earth from planetary threats. It forced me to understand all the good I had been doing. It warmed my heart, truly it did, but now I was back to six years ago as I relearned the trade.
“Hunting for a new team?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What about training the kiddos?”
I nearly laughed. The next generation of heroes? The girl at the store laughed at me when I traded in my flip phone. I could wrestle robots to the ground, but I couldn’t set the clock on my microwave. As a mentor, I would never cut it.