Hero Types

Chapter 14

There wasn't a jailbreak that night, but two nights later. Luckily, the escapees were rather inexperienced, and so were apprehended quickly by the city's police force. Kit heard about it on Thanksgiving, while Gran was cooking dinner. There was a brief spot on the evening news, and then they went back to showing recaps of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.
    She heard a clattery from the kitchen and twisted around on the couch. "Gran?"
    "I'm all right!"
    "Are you sure you don't want help?"
    "Oh, no, I'm all right."
    Kit turned back around and switched channels till she found a good sitcom. "Are you sure he said five?"
    "I'm not that old yet. He's probably late."
As usual, Kit thought. She fixed the blanket around her feet and tried to fix her focus on her math homework.
Bzzt. Bzzt.
    She scrambled over to the table and grabbed her phone. "Hello?"
    "Are you busy?"
    "Um, kind of?" She glanced at Gran in the kitchen. "What is it?"
    "There's a situation down on 3rd."
    She flipped back to the news. There was a giant inflatable monkey scaling a skyscraper, and traffic halted below it, sirens wailing. She listened closely, and thought she could hear them in the distance.
    "Do you really need me?"
    "We need all the help we can get."
    She frowned, and the clip on the TV slowed down. A little spotlight focused on a blue-suited man who was rushing about, trying to push people away from the building. Lucas sounded out of breath.
    "My Dad's coming in a minute—"
    "This won't take long, we just need help getting people out of the way. Oh, shit—" A giant cartoon character joined in, leaping between buildings. "Jersey's trying to find the culprit, I need some help down here!"
    Kit closed her eyes. "Fine." She hung up and got to her feet. She pulled on her shoes and grabbed her jacket and a hat. "Gran, I have to run out for a minute."
    "Your father'll be here soon—"
    "I'll be right back, tell him it was important." She jammed her phone in her pocket, and the door opened and nearly smacked her in the face.
    "Kit!"
    "Dad—" She pressed herself into his fleece coat about as soon as she recognized his graying beard. She inhaled. He smelled of cigarette smoke, a think he had promised to give up five years ago.
    "Hi, sweetie. How's my girl?"
    She stood back and looked hard at him. She was distracted, however, by the woman standing behind him.
    "How are you, Kit?"
    "...Good. Who...?"
    "This," he said, putting his arm over her shoulders, "is Zoe."
    "Hi." She smiled. She was tall and tan, with curly blackish hair and blue eyes. She was also extremely young. Like, college-age-young. Zoe offered her hand. "Davìd told me about you."
    Kit shook politely. She didn't say anything.
    "You can hang up your coats," Gran offered, and Kit's Dad helped Zoe with hers. The removal of her heavy peacoat revealed the swell under her maternity shirt. Dave plastered on a smile.
    "Surprise—"
    "I have to go." Kit shoved past him and ran for the stairwell. She was on the sidewalk before she knew it, and she had to stop for a minute and remember how to be reasonable and grownup, and how not to hyperventilate. So what, her dad's girlfriend was practically her age. So what, she was pregnant. She barely ever saw him anyway. It didn't matter. It wouldn't affect her in any way at all. She would be fine. She would be good.
    She wouldn't think about it till she had to go back. She started walking.
    3rd wasn't far from her house. She could walk there in less time than it would take to hop a train or a bus, and she didn't have any money or ID on her anyway. It was a few blocks, and people were fleeing when they weren't holding their phones up and trying to get footage while they blocked off the roads. It took her longer than it should have.
    When she did get there, she remembered that she wasn't Reflectogirl, but an unmasked teen armed with nothing but a cellphone and angst. She saw Lucas pushing the crowd back and tried to hurry over, but—
    "Back! Everybody back!"
    An armored woman spread her arms and ushered people away, and Kit almost cried out her name. She shoved through the fray to get to her. Mardie's eyes focused through the slits in her helmet, and she pulled her aside amid the screaming, jostling, and sirens.
    "You're back—did your powers—"
    "We've got this covered, get in that building and help them out." She jerked her thumb at a nearby skyscraper.
    "Them?"
    "Hurry up!" She received a shove on her back, and she stumbled toward the building. A miniature ballon animal wrapped around her leg and tripped her up, but this immediately caused it to pop.
    She made it to the second floor with a lot of shoving, and from then on up it was pretty smooth sailing. Everyone was trying to get out, after all. Only idiots and crazy people were going in. So she met Jersey and Mickey halfway up.
    "Hi..." she panted, collapsing against a cool wall to catch her breath. The stuffy blue carpet smelled like ink. "I'm here. Why're you..."
    Mickey shook his head and pressed his ear back against the elevator door. His hand was flattened on it and his arm was pulsing with blue light. She looked to Jersey.
    "Service stairs are locked," he said. "Manual, we can't get them open. Only way up's through the elevator."
    "You know she's up there?"
    "Definitely. She has to be able to see what she's doing, this is the only spot for it. Are you okay?"
    "Wh—yeah. Yeah. I'm fine. Stairs." Not the fact that her father had another child on the way with a girl who could have been her sister.
    "Aha!" Mickey stood up, and the elevator dinged. The doors slid open and he stood aside to let them in. Kit hit the highest number, and they shot up. Some disco played mildly over the speakers.
    Mickey looked at her. "Hi, Kit."
    "Hi."
    "How was your Thanksgiving going?"
    "Kind of sucky, actually."
    "No kidding? How about the balloon animals?"
    "Best part so far."
    "Huh." He took off his sweater and plucked at the sweat-stained pits of his shirt. Kit rubbed her hands together. Ping! The doors grated open.
    The Toymaker stood at the window of the empty story, flinging her arms to the sides and swaying as if she were a dancing puppet. Jersey vanished, and his shadow darted around a plaster pillar. Kit ducked behind another one and held her breath.
    There was a cry. She peeked out. The Toymaker spun and caught her knee behind Jersey's head. She slammed him to the ground, neck between her thighs, and out the window a balloon animal collapsed into the wind.
    "Kit!"
    Jersey vanished again, and the Toymaker turned her beetle-eyed gaze upon her. Kit ducked and rolled, though she wasn't sure from what, and she came up a foot away to shove the woman off of Jersey.
    She rolled and hit the window. Kit hopped to her feet and backed away. Capture, not murder. The Toymaker leapt up and threw herself at her. Kit squared her stance and rammed her shoulder into her stomach. They both fell to the ground.
    Carpet burned her cheek. There were sharp nails digging into the back of her neck, and there was weight on her back and her legs as she struggled. She grit her teeth when her hair was pulled. She flailed with more rage than the situation really called for and upset the Toymaker's seat on her back.
    She threw her to the side and wrapped herself around her legs when she tried to wriggle away. She squirmed and snarled till she had her sharp hands in her own, and she twisted and pinned them back. The woman snapped her head back, and Kit forced her next to the wall. She flung her head again and there was a smack, and she knocked herself unconscious.
    The blood calmed in Kit's ears. She was breathing heavily. She looked up. Jersey was picking himself off the ground, rubbing his neck and coughing. Mickey looked on with interest, rubbing his chin.
    "I meant to help," he said. "But I was really enjoying the show."
    She flung the woman's arm away as she stood up, and she kicked her foot off of hers with more vigor than she intended. Mickey was frowning at her. She pushed her bangs back.
    "What?"
    He shook his head, and then Jersey was pulling the unconscious Toymaker toward the elevator and they all loaded up. Mickey watched her the whole way down, which didn't help her nerves. She wasn't sure she wanted to go home. Maybe she should have let her escape so they could give chase and kill some time.
Ping!
    Mickey put his hand on her shoulder as they made their exit. He watched Jersey go through the door with the limp woman, and he turned to her.
    "You doing all right?"
    She shrugged. "It's, just...yeah."
    He raised an eyebrow. Mickey had blue eyes, and she thought they looked genuinely concerned.
    "I mean...no." She glanced outside. People were milling around, blocking the street off. Voices leaked inside, but they were muffled and indecipherable. "I don't know. I mean, my—"
Bzzt.
    She whipped out her phone and sighed. "That's him."
    He waved her on. "By all means."
    She held it to her ear. "I don't want to talk about—"
    "It's your grandmother. She's had a stroke."