FIVE: The Nice One

five years later

“ ’s cold as tits,” Jeremy Levi muttered, rubbing his bare biceps with his hands as he stared out at the snow falling over the L’s tracks. “Alden, man, stop looking so warm. You’ve got a sweater and a coat. It’s not fair!”

His pale lips were almost as gray as the sky overhead, and his breath came out in frosty white puffs of fog.

“Agree to stupid dares, win stupid prizes.” Alden leaned against a railing while they waited for the train. “It’s twenty-something degrees. Did you seriously think you were stronger than frostbite?”

“I th-thought it’d be ok-kay.” The chatter in Jeremy’s teeth was probably only half drama. They’d left his place fifteen minutes ago, and Jeremy was wearing flip-flops, shorts, and a sleeveless white tee with a picture of a dancing traffic cone on it.

“Are tits particularly cold?” Boe, the third member of their friend group, asked. He sounded amused. “And since when do we use that metaphor anyway? It’s a weird one.”

Boe looked shy and nerdy with his horn-rims, grandmotherly scarf, and horrible bowl haircut. But he had a nasty grin on his face as he took in the other boy’s suffering.

“I’ll loan you my scarf, Remy,” he cooed. “Just beg.”

“N-no, you bastard! You’re gonna give me that ten bucks when this is over. And then I’m gonna shove it up your—”

“It’s a reference to witches.” Alden stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans as the train approached the platform.

“W-what?”

“The saying. It’s about witches, I think. Some superstition from a long time ago, maybe…”

“Ha!” Jeremy exhaled another cloud of fog. “Bet those Salem goons would’ve had heart attacks if they could see us all now. We’re on our way to alien school, you have a snack for a demon in your messenger bag, and Bo’s got a Bedlam Beldam poster taped to the wall over his bed.”

“He’s not really a demon,” said Alden, stepping into the least-crowded car. “He’s just…a weird-looking extra-dimensional being who has to do community service for all eternity.”

“Because he murdered—”

“Attempted to murder.”

“That’s better?”

“Would you rather have someone attempt to murder you or succeed?”

“I bought that poster when I was eight,” Bo interrupted, turning his nose up at Jeremy. “Everyone loves Bedlam Beldam when they’re eight.”

“Yeah, but you’re sixteen now, bro. That’s a long time to stare at a superhero whose whole thing is talking to cats and wearing pointy hats.”

They took their seats, and while his friends argued about the merits of witch-themed heroes, Alden pulled out his phone. He did it almost without thinking about it.

I shouldn’t do this again. It’ll only make me gloomy for the rest of the morning.

But he didn’t put the phone up. Instead, he tapped on the gleaming silver sigil that had appeared after he called Hannah for the first time.

It looked like an app, but it definitely wasn’t. The thing was impossible to delete and appeared on any phone Alden held…including a vintage rotary dial he’d once encountered at a neighbor’s house.

It was kind of creepy, but at least he wasn’t alone. Anyone who had permission to call a superhero through the System apparently had the same bizarre perk. He held the phone to his ear.

“Play last three voicemails,” he muttered.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, and Alden stared at his own distorted reflection in the metal pole beside his seat. He looked a lot like his father—green eyes, hair hovering between true brown and auburn, average height for his age. His freckles had mostly disappeared for now, but they’d be back in summer.

A familiar, bright voice interrupted his inspection.

“Hey, Alden! It’s Hannah!”

Alden closed his eyes. He could picture the hero’s smile. She was always unyieldingly perky when she spoke to him, whether it was during their few in-person meetups or over the phone. He didn’t know if it was her natural personality or something she made an effort at.

“Listen, I just got a summons a few minutes ago. The real deal. It’s only my fourth one ever. Pretty cool, right? Anyway, I have to go, so I might need to reschedule our annual visit. Wanted you to know so that you don’t freak if the teleport notification doesn’t come through for you in a couple of days like we planned. We’ll hang out when I get back. There’s this awesome new ice park on the island…let’s check it out together. See you soon!”

There was a trill of sound. Alden’s grip tightened on the phone as the next message started to play.

“Alden, this is Hannah’s friend Cly. We met once before. Everything’s fine, I just wanted you to know that Hannah’s still off on her quest. We expect her back any day now.”

Another trill, and then the latest one. He’d received it a couple of weeks ago, and even though he’d listened to it dozens of times, he still felt his pulse pick up.

“Hello, Alden. It’s…it’s Cly again. I know we talked about the possibility of this when I reached out to you a couple of months ago, but…. if Hannah’s not back soon, there’s going to be a funeral. February thirteenth. Her birthday. Like I said last time, it’s…extremely rare for a summons to last longer than a few weeks. And since it’s been half a year, we—her friends—we think it would be best to finally have some closure. For her mother at least. Let me know if I can order a teleport for you, okay? I know Hannah would appreciate you being there.”

There was a pause.

“Would you like to listen again?” the System said in the canned version of its voice.

Alden shut it off.

Outside the window, buildings raced past. They weren’t far from his old neighborhood. The apartment building was still an apartment building. The nightclub where Body Drainer had murdered so many people was still a nightclub.

Everything was repaired. Like new. There were no scars left. Not where they could be seen anyway.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

The city had long-since moved on to new worries about new villains.

Just last night, there’d been footage on the news of one of the city’s current heroes-in-residence engaged in an unusual high-speed pursuit that started on North Avenue Beach. Some villain with earth shaping powers had apparently been constructing a lair under Lake Michigan for the past few years, and they’d finally found him.