SuperNova: Heroes of Arcania (4 page)

“Screw this,” I muttered, grabbing my laptop instead. “Time to research.”
 

Long before Fortune came along, I’d spent plenty of time on the Internet, hours gone into looking for my condition. There were no logical reasons. Plenty of theories, most of them wild, but nothing really stuck out. The closest I’d come was comic books. That’s where the indestructible aliens and science experiments that made men into unbreakable beings existed.
 

It wasn’t just my impenetrable skin that came with the package. I’d passed my thin frame off as a fast metabolism. That and being luckier than other girls who dieted all the time without results. I could run farther with more bursts of speed; I could lift more than any football player at my school. (My best friend Henry arranged a contest last year to prove it. We won a hundred bucks and I’d gone on a couple dates with the very cute but eventually dull kicker.) And it seemed I was only getting stronger; last week I accidentally pulled the storm door off the back porch without even trying.
 

This time, however, I didn’t bother searching for bulletproof skin or increased strength and agility. I delved into Fortune, any information I could get my hands on. I had a lot to catch up on after six months of avoiding the Internet. I tried to think as Henry would, about Fortune’s backstory or possible past crimes.
 

So far, not a lot on the guy. No eyewitness had admitted to seeing his electrical prowess; he’d probably threatened them in the same manner as he had with me. None of them would talk and I couldn’t blame them. I believed Fortune when he said he’d hunt me down if I told anyone. I couldn’t risk him coming for my parents, too. I’d already promised myself to never breathe a word of it to anyone.
 

An hour later, I came up empty-handed. Everyone knew about the banks in Arcania. No other media reports gave away clues I didn’t already know. He hadn’t struck any other spots, which told me he liked the big money. I might’ve “overheard” Dad telling Mom months ago that some of the bills were marked. After the second bank heist, the police deposited hundreds of marked dollars in other locations to see if they could track where it went.
 

Dad said Fortune hadn’t spent any money. That meant he was sitting on it somewhere, biding his time. What was he doing with it? He could be buying something rare, expensive and/or nuclear. I didn’t like any of those options.
 

“Dad must know something,” I murmured, scrolling through yet another article. But there was no way he’d let me in on that stuff. “Unless…”
 

I could prove myself to him.
Show him that I could handle whatever Fortune threw at us. Then I could help him put Fortune away. Something inside me leapt with hope. I’d been terrified the day Fortune killed Starling; she’d died trying to save me because I’d been paralyzed with fear.
I can’t be afraid anymore.
 

If the cops couldn’t do it, who did that leave? Someone had to stop Fortune. With his scary little superpower, who really stood a chance?
 

“Besides someone who can’t be broken.” I flopped back onto my pillow, stared at the small glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling. “I might be the only one who can stop him.”
 

I didn’t know what scared me more: that I could be wrong…or that I was right.
 

What does one wear to go save the world?
 

I rummaged through my closet, wrinkling my nose at everything. Blue tights with red underwear seemed a little too conspicuous. It couldn’t be a dress, obviously, and shorts were out because I’d spent the entire summer indoors and my pasty white legs would be spotted a mile away. Plus it was still on the warm side, so a black sweater wouldn’t cut it. I settled on a pair of black yoga pants, paired it with a thin black long-sleeved shirt and dug out my black Chucks from a pile of clothes on the floor.
 

I glanced at the mirror as I pulled my strawberry-blond hair back. My blue eyes and pale face wouldn’t hide me very well, but I didn’t have a mask of any sort.
Guess I’ll have to make one later.
I would never wear a ski mask.
 

I stood in front of the full-length mirror on my closet door to get the full effect. I looked ridiculous, like a hipster’s idea of a cat burglar. I was, for the most part, a regular teenage girl, not some anonymous billionaire who had fancy uniforms that would injure my enemies with a button. I didn’t have other options unless I went shopping for leather pants or a corset.
 

I grimaced at the thought; how was one supposed to be lightning-fast in hot pants and heels? I shrugged my vanity off—I was going to fight crime, not compete in a beauty pageant. I needed to be able to fight and run, not stun my opponent with heaving bosoms and luscious calves. Not that I really had either of those things, anyways.
 

Finally, it was time to leave. My heart pounded fast, but from excitement rather than anxiety. It was still early, just after nine, but my parents thought I was going to Henry’s for a movie. I heard my mother go to her bedroom and flip on the television while my father surely remained down in his office.
 

At the last second, I grabbed the one baseball cap I owned. I could pull the brim down so that it hid my face. I slipped out the front door and into my car. As I headed towards the city, I contemplated the options. So far, my plan was to drive into Arcania and tiptoe around the streets until I came across…well, a bad guy. I couldn’t hope that I’d find Fortune so easily, but I could use some practice on a teenage vandal spray-painting the walls or something.

“You always wanted to be the game-changer Dad talked about,” I muttered to myself in the car. I kept trying to psych myself up. “Not exactly what you had in mind, but it’s a start.”
 

I’d wanted to follow in Dad’s footsteps to become a lawyer and put criminals where they belonged.
This path is a little more…illegal
. I took my car to Dad’s parking garage. Mine was the only vehicle on the floor and the emptiness of the giant space gave me the creeps. I took the stairs down, footsteps echoing in the stairwell, and headed away from the courthouse. My heart thudded in my chest; I half-expected to be jumped from behind at any moment. I felt like an owl, my head spun around so much in every direction.
 

The movies only showed the good parts of criminals getting beaten up. They never showed the tedious part where the hero ran around hunting down justice. It was a lonely, eerie process. My excitement quickly faded, replaced by doubt and nerves.
 

Shadows leapt out at me from every direction. Dark, graffiti-covered alleyways made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The stench of rotting food in the nearby dumpsters made my eyes water. I gritted my teeth and pressed onwards, stepping as quietly as I could, listening for any sounds of movement. No way would I chicken out, even if I did just nearly wet myself at the newspaper rustling against the pavement.
 

“You have to do this, Nova,” I whispered to myself, trying to strengthen my resolve. “Trouble isn’t going to walk up and say hello. You can’t run back home with your tail tucked between your legs every time you get scared.”

Since it
was
only my first night on the job, I didn’t stray too far, perhaps only a ten or twelve block radius around my dad’s office. I’d memorized a few spots from online maps, but tried to familiarize myself with the city layout and its buildings. There were several one-way streets and connecting alleyways.
I need to know shortcuts.
 

After maybe an hour, I’d gone from scared to almost bored. All I’d run into was the occasional homeless guy rattling his cart across the streets. One cop car rolled through, the police officer looking a little anxious behind the wheel. A handful of dilapidated cars drove by and when they passed, I stayed in the shadows to avoid being noticed.
 

As I crossed the same alley for what had to be the third time, I heard a sound coming from the darkness. I froze, straining to listen. A garbage can fell over with a clang and I took a few steps towards the culprit. I realized I was holding my breath and quietly released it. Heart in my throat, I forced myself further in. A few more steps and I saw…a stray dog digging through the trash.
 

I heaved a sigh of frustration. The dog barely looked at me before going back to its dinner.
 

Great. Not even a stray dog finds me intimidating enough for a growl.
 

I decided to pack it up and go home to bed. If any vandals were out, they were in another part of the city. I’d have to summon my bravery another night.
 

I’d walked into the parking garage but hadn’t made it past the first floor when I heard it. A slap of a hand across skin followed by a strangled cry, then a thump as someone hit the concrete floor. A man’s voice cursed loudly as the woman cried. The sounds echoed across the lot all the way to where I stood. I was so close to the stairway, to my car hidden in its corner on the fourth floor. It would be so easy to run. I could get away and go home to my safe, warm bed.

 
A shout made me pause, my hand halfway to the stairwell doorknob. Another sob emitted from the woman. My heartbeat thudded in my ears as my mind struggled to weigh the consequences of either choice. One thought chose for me as I took off towards the struggle:
Starling
.
 

I skidded to a halt when I saw shadows dancing on the concrete walls. I poked my head around the corner and saw them: a pimp and his prostitute. The girl, who couldn’t possibly be more than twenty, lay on the ground, tears and blood on her face. What little clothing she wore was ripped, barely concealing her lime green bra and scraped brown thighs. The man, who had his back to me, wore dark jeans and a black leather jacket; I guessed he had maybe forty pounds on me, but he was only a few inches taller.
 

“I told you I was gonna get my money one way or another!” he yelled at her.

“Please, I can get it. It was a slow night! I’ll get it to you tomorrow.”

“Said that last week. I ain’t no sucker and I’ll get my money’s worth outta you, slut.”

“Please,” she begged. “I promise I’ll get it to you. I—”
 

He cut her off with a backhanded slap. She kept her face to the ground and wept. Anger slammed through me, a rushing sound in my ears.
Now’s as good a time as ever.
I had no plan so I did the first thing I could think of—I used the element of surprise.

I pushed myself off the wall and barreled towards him. I had a moment to see the girl’s face as she looked up; her shocked gaze made the pimp turn to look, too. I sprinted faster and as his face registered surprise, I threw all my weight against him. It was a tackle my football team would’ve envied too, because it propelled us both about twenty feet across the concrete. Miraculously, I kept the upper hand and as I rolled over him, I hopped into a crouch beside him. Dazed, he looked around and found me, tried to lift his hand. I put a knee on his throat.
 

“What the—?” he tried to say, but I cut him off.

“You’re going to leave her alone. Go back to the hole you crawled from.”

“The hell I will. She’s mine, you crazy bitch.” He moved faster than I thought, slinging me off him. He jumped to his feet and charged. His swing missed, but his fingers caught my shirt sleeve as I jumped back. The fabric tore and I tumbled down on my butt. He grinned at me and wiped the blood off his scraped chin, spit on the ground. I got up, facing him for an awful second before he struck out.
 

I ducked and tried to throw a right hook, but he blocked my arm and shoved me backwards into the wall, put his hands around my throat. I couldn’t break his grip no matter how hard I pulled at his wrists. Every bit of anger I had made my adrenaline surge. He squeezed hard; it didn’t hurt, but definitely cut off my air supply.
One downside to my so-called power—I can’t fight.
He would choke me to death if I didn’t hurry to stop him.