2
Lights and Shadows

 

His feet dangling over the ledge, Bronson Black watched over his city from the roof of Colta City General Hospital. He chewed a bite from the egg salad sandwich he’d bought before going on patrol. The summer heat didn’t subside even at this late hour, so he’d decided to take a break and eat it before it spoiled.

He took the last bite then lowered the cheap Halloween dog mask over his face. The floppy dog ears stapled to his mask tickled his human ones. The mask was old when he found it among his father’s things; his many adventures since becoming a superhero hadn’t done it any favors. The amaranthine paint along either side had worn to a dull purple. Fine cracks ran along the mask where it rested across the bridge of his nose. The mask lacked beauty, but his father’s name penciled on the back guaranteed he’d never replace it.

The world disappeared a wash of orange then a vision— the rooftop he was standing on. A man crept up behind him. Laughed. Pushed him over the edge.

He called these visions “flash forwards.” They let him see a small distance into the future. His powers hadn’t worked right since he’d defeated the Guild of Thieves that past July. When they did work, he considered it a small blessing. Not luck, but something like it.

The click of the rooftop door closing brought him back to the present. He crawled along the ledge, scooting his stomach along the concrete until he reached an HVAC unit in the shadows.

The man from his vision scuttled across the rooftop, carrying a purse that clashed with his outfit in both color and class. He squatted down then dumped the contents out onto the blacktop. The man picked through the pile like a monkey picking through his partner’s fur, holding each object close to his eyes as he judged its worth. He placed the objects he found worthy next to him in a neat pile, but the objects he rejected got chucked over the ledge.

Dogboy crept through the shadows around the rooftop until he found himself behind the man. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a few Wee Glimmers, small theatrical props magicians used to distract the audience; Dogboy used them to distract the crooks. He launched the pellets at the man’s feet. They hit the ground, sparking, then a loud POP accompanied by a bright flash.

The man fell back, shattering a bottle of Chanel No. 5 in the “keep” pile by his feet. The perfume splattered onto the man’s thick wool pants. Another Wee Glimmer went off, igniting his soaked, smelly leg. The chemicals burned up in a second, which was all the dry material needed to get it started. The man howled, hopping up and down, smacking the flames with his bare hands to little success.

Dogboy untied his cape, whirling it around and smacking the man’s legs to smother the flame. “Lay down,” he said. He beat at the flames (maybe a little harder than he needed to) until he’d smothered them, leaving the reek of burnt hair in his nose.

“The dog boy,” the man said, spitting little white flecks out the sides of his mouth as he did. “We’ve been looking for you.” He got up on one knee then offered Dogboy his hand.

“You sure you have the right dog? I come from a big litter,” Dogboy said, standing his ground as the man took a step toward him.

“Don’t remember your ol’ pal Joe?” the man asked. “After everything we done for you. Everything Andrus done for you. We all seen what you done to him, you nasty little brat.”

Dogboy recognized the man now. He’d seen him rob somebody on South 5th Street his first week in the city. He’d even seen him in the abandoned subway tunnels the Guild of Thieves used as a base. Joe looked different now though. Dirtier, hungrier, meaner.

“Andrus was a jerk,” Dogboy said. “If you don’t turn yourself in right now, you’re gonna end up in jail right next to him.”

Dogboy wasn’t sure what he felt first: the foot flying into his stomach or the orange energy shooting out from his palm. He didn’t summon his weird power, and no matter how hard he focused he couldn’t stop its surge. The beam hit his assailant, pushing him back toward the ledge.

“I can’t stop,” Dogboy said. “Grab on to something.”

The warning came too late. Joe tumbled over the edge. “For Andrus,” he screamed as he fell.

With the danger gone, the energy stopped flowing out. Dogboy peeked over the ledge. He winced behind his mask. The man lay on the sidewalk seven stories below, his legs bent skyward, his body facing the hospital.

Dogboy lit down the stairs, bursting out the side door then plowing into a young nurse out for a break.

“You?” she said. “Look, that goon was carrying you away by the time I came back with a guard. Please, don’t hurt me. I tried to help you I swear.”

Dogboy recognized her from a previous battle against Hot John, the big man with the mallet hand. His first instinct said to tell her she didn’t have anything to apologize for. He was supposed to be saving her after all. Before he got the words out he reconsidered, deciding to use her unfounded fears to his advantage.

“I’m not going to hurt you, but you gotta do me a favor first. There’s this guy I knocked off the roof around the corner—”

“Oh my God,” she said, backing away. “You threw somebody off the roof?”

“No, no. Well, kinda. He was coming after me and my powers— Well, they’re unpredictable. Come on, you gotta help him. He might be dead already.”

She nodded, and Dogboy led her around the corner. They both knelt down beside the thief. He was still breathing but barely. Up close Joe looked even worse than he had from above. There were cuts on his hands and face, a small divot in his skull, and some yellow teeth laying on the sidewalk beside him.

“Looks like there could be spinal damage,” the nurse said. “This is way out of my wheelhouse. Let me run inside and grab Dr. Humboldt. She’s the best orthopedic surgeon in the state.”

I should knock her out and get out of here before she calls the cops, Dogboy thought. It was one of those sudden, insane thoughts that cross everybody’s minds on occasion, the kind of thoughts that are so against one’s nature he’s left wondering if it was actually his thought at all. The solution was straightforward, but it would make him a dreadful hero. Heroes do what’s right, not what’s easy.

“Well go find her, lady,” Dogboy said. “I’ll stay with him until you come back.”

As the nurse left Dogboy peered up and down the street to check for police. He felt something tapping the plastic tip of his canvas sneakers. Joe shot him a wide, bloody, toothless grin from the ground.

“Don’t matter what you do, mutt,” he said. “Guild’ll find you. Guild’ll gut you like an animal, being that’s what you are.”

Dogboy felt a chill down his spine, the kind people say come to you when somebody steps on your grave. “How many of you guys are left? I saw cops take tons of you guys in.”

“Nu-uh. Not gonna tell you. It’s a surprise.” The man chuckled, spraying congealed blood across his beard.

“He’s right over here, doctor” the nurse said from around the corner. She spoke loudly or at least louder than she needed to. Dogboy took it as a sign that he needed to leave. He knelt down and whispered in the man’s ear.

“You tell your guild— or what’s left of it— that if they come after me this is what happens.”

“Scared, child?”

“Yeah, but only that I’ll catch something from you.”

Dogboy slipped behind a nearby car as the doctor knelt down to examine the thief. He waved to the nurse, who strolled over by the car. She leaned on the trunk then pulled out her phone to look busy.

“He’ll live,” she whispered. “A few broken ribs and a vertebra thrown out of alignment. Consider us even. If I see you around here again, I’m calling the cops to cash in the reward.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him, you know,” Dogboy said.

“I believe you, kid,” she said, looking down at him like a disappointed parent. “Funny thing is I think that scares me a little more.”

 

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