I close the locker door with a sigh, rolling my shoulders to ease some of the tension still remaining in my muscles. I just left after handing over that villain to the police, and though I finished my shift, I made sure to run straight back to the Bowl as soon as it ended

  I should probably explain what that is, given that non-heroes would likely only know it as the BCCSI headquarters. The Bureau for the Control and Containment of Superhuman Individuals, which many of you may recognize as the organization backing heroes like myself, is also sometimes not-so-affectionately referred to as the SAU police, or SAU-P. The similarity of that name to the word “soup”, combined with the dome shape of the headquarters looking like an upside-down bowl, has led to most heroes calling it “the Soup Bowl”, or sometimes just “the Bowl.” That’s where I am now, the Bowl’s changing room, which it helpfully provides so that heroes don’t have to change into their super suits in an alley like they do in the movies.

  As I turn away from the locker I’d claimed today, I catch a look of myself in one of the mirrors they have hanging over a row of sinks. I look completely beaten down. My eyes are sunken - the only visible side effect of my accelerated healing - and a faint red bruise is still visible where that fire villain hit me. My already short brown hair is luckily not too much shorter, even after I cut away the singed bits, but my eyebrows are ruined. Those will take at least a week to recover, even with Superhuman on the case.

  I’ve changed out of my supersuit - largely because of the damage to it, everybody here knows who I am - and into the casual clothes I brought: a pair of torn jeans and a baggy white t-shirt that covers up what little there is of my chest. As inconspicuous as I can manage, given I’ll still need to leave here at some point. The Bowl offers rooms, but my mom’s place is much nicer. I know twenty-three is a little old to be living entirely with my mom still, but just wait until you see her place. Even now, the government still sends us overly large checks every now and then as if it somehow makes up for what happened to Dad.

  “Char! You still in here? Let’s go!” A peppy, feminine voice calls out to me from somewhere in the rows of lockers. A moment later, someone pops out from behind me: a willowy young african woman with a mess of frizzy, dark curls wearing a long, blue dress with sleeves ending just past the elbow. Allacia, aka Aphros, one of my oldest friends and an excellent superhero. She’s well-liked around the Bowl for being endlessly cheerful while somehow simultaneously managing to be one of the most badass people I know. Her power seems near useless in a fight at first, but she reliably runs circles around me in sparring, especially if she has time to prepare.

  “There you are!” She says as she sees me, “Quit admiring yourself in the mirror and come on already! Elias and I have been waiting for hours!”

  “Why? You don’t think I look pretty?” I tease her, but start heading her way anyways.

  “Nope,” She says casually, “Too skinny.” And we both chuckle to ourselves as we exit the changing room out into a big, sleek grey hallway.

  “Having fun without me already? Not exactly fair,” We’re greeted by a tall, muscled latino absolutely covered from neck to toe in tattoos of all kinds of animals, mythical and otherwise. He’s wearing a tank top and shorts which prominently display both his tattoos and his muscles, and as we exit Allacia rushes over and stands on the tips of her toes to greet her giant of a boyfriend with a kiss on the cheek.

  “Hey, babe,” She says, smiling up at him. He smiles back.

  “Hey, Elias,” I greet him, giving him a quick wave. He looks away from Allacia and towards me, his smile turning into more of a cocky smirk.

  “I hear you had an interesting day,” He reveals, his smile growing wider as he watches my reaction. The thing you have to understand about Elias is that he's absolutely dedicated to three pursuits, at the expense of all else: Allacia, his work as a hero, and gossip. It often feels out of place, this walking stereotype of a gangster being so involved with the rumor mill, but it’s something you get used to. He’s also notable as one of the few heroes without a codename, given that he isn’t close with his relatives and most of his friends are heroes as well. Allacia, Elias, and I have been friends since middle school, united by the collective dream of being heroes. We achieved that almost four years ago now, but nothing has been able to separate us yet.

  “Like none other,” I opine, “But can we walk and talk? I want to see Dr. Hennessy to take the edge off my wounds.”

  Elias nods, and as Allacia slips her arm into his the two of them fall in behind me as I begin the walk to the infirmary.

  “So, how much do you actually know?” I ask as we continue down the hallway.

  “Bits and pieces, it’s still early,” Elias responds, “I know you got beaten up by a surprise villain some are calling your nemesis, and I know you responded to a distress call from Jonathan fucking Alston of all people, and word is he was in a bad mood after.”

  “Char!” Allacia exclaims, “What have you done? You met Jonathan Alston and didn’t get his signature for me?!” I almost sob in relief as she finished her sentence, but I catch myself. Leave it to Allacia to instantly recognize a sore subject and try to lighten the mood. I truly have the best friends.

  “Sorry,” I turn and give her a half-hearted look of apology, “but I don’t think I’m quite in a position to make requests of him. I kind of…told him he was reckless then stormed off.” I see Elias wince before I turn away, though Allacia graciously remains stoic. Quite the feat, given that she’s been a die-hard fan of the man as long as I’ve known her and still has a poster of him on the wall next to her bed. At least for now. I wouldn’t be surprised if she takes it down later; she can be rather protective of our little group sometimes.

  “And your new nemesis? Don’t think you can avoid that subject, Charlie,” Elias continues to interrogate me.

  “That part may still be a rumor for now,” I respond, “She did surprise me at one point by asking to be my nemesis, but that may have just been a tactic to keep me off guard. What I can confirm is that I did fight a villain going by ‘Hot Pink’ with flame powers and a rather ostentatious pink costume.”

  “Oh, so it’s a pun name!” Allacia says, “I get it. Pretty bold of her, actually. Not many villains are so keen on being too clever with their names, given the risk of not being taken seriously.”

  “Could be a tactic,” I suggest, “She certainly seemed like the type to have no qualms about exploiting such mind games.” We reach the end of the hallway and turn, the path in front of us now ending with a door clearly labeled with the Rod of Asclepius.

  “By the way, I also heard you sent a not-as-subtle-as-you-thought request to the supersuit department inquiring about fireproof materials,” Elias whispers to me, just loud enough the three of us can hear.

  “Oh, would you look at that!” I purposefully exclaim, rushing forwards, “We’re here! That’s too bad; it would be rude to continue our conversation now.”

  I push open the door, half processing Allacia as she shouts “coward!” while I enter. The inside of the infirmary is pretty bare, just a sterile-looking hospital environment with a few empty cots pushed up to one corner and a desk plus a few cabinets in the opposite corner. Sitting on one of those tall swivel chairs is a frizzy, ginger woman in a lab coat. She’s currently staring down at her phone while absentmindedly chewing the nail off her other thumb. She looks up at me when I come in.

  “Oh! Charlie, darling. Sorry, I didn’t see you come in,” She apologizes, hurriedly putting away the phone. I can see she looks frazzled, which isn’t normal for her.

  “Hey, Dr. Hennessy. Everything okay? You aren’t usually this distracted,” I ask. At around that moment, Elias and Allacia catch up, both looking as concerned as I feel.

  “Oh, it’s nothing so important as to delay treatment. What can I do for you?” She changes the subject, waving me to sit down. Cautiously, I plop down one of the cots.

  “I just wanted to finish up healing the bruises and burns. I’m mostly done already, but you know how it is,” I explain.

  “Of course,” She replies, “I’ll get right on that.” She immediately places her hand on my cheek where the bruise is and closes her eyes, and I instantly begin to feel the familiar sensation of my flesh rapidly knitting itself back together.

  The thing about Dr. Holly Hennessy is that her power is almost completely unique. There are other healing abilities out there, and many more that grant accelerated regeneration like mine - in fact, expert SAUs know we pretty much all have some form of greater healing, due to the premise of adaptability, but that’s a complicated subject. The thing about the doctor’s ability, though, is that it is both universal and relatively side-effect free. She can heal anything: wounds, sicknesses, poisonings, even the latent effects of some abilities, all at only the cost of simple exhaustion. The greater the ailment, the more tired she feels. Her ability, to my knowledge, is quite literally Heal, the greatest healing ability of all time.

  As such, my wounds are gone in mere moments, her only needing to focus a little to remove them entirely. She sighs in relief when it’s over, leaning back in her chair. I’ve been told that, for nearly healed wounds like mine usually are, it feels to her like a quick jog: tiring, but something she can easily handle lots of. Which is good, because otherwise I’d feel rather guilty for using up her stamina on something like this.

  “Thanks, Doctor,” I gratefully express, “But now it’s time to return the favor. What is going on with you? You never look so worried as you do now.” I see her turn to Allacia and Elias, almost begging for a way out, but I know she won’t find one from them. Elias is always curious about stuff like this and Allacia will want to help even more than I do. She turns back to me with a clear look of surrender.

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  “Oh, Charlie, it’s just awful,” Dr. Hennessy begins, “Maggie’s ex showed up today, wanting to catch up with her. The two of them are out now, and I’ve been waiting for her to text me and tell me it’s over. I’m just so worried! I trust Maggie, she’s my wife, but I don’t know anything about this person. What if it turns out they’re a villain or something?”

  I catch Elias wincing at her explanation, and I feel about the same myself. Allacia hurries to the Doctor’s side and places a comforting hand on her shoulder. It certainly sounds like quite the bad situation, but immediately I find myself with an idea.

  “Well, instead of you just sitting here feeling all helpless, maybe we should go talk to the Birdkeeper, see if he’ll keep an eye on them for you,” I suggest, feeling all the eyes in the room turn to me. The Birdkeeper is a hero that acts as the official spymaster for the Newest York branch of The BCCSI. He spends his time here at the Bowl, using his ability to turn everyday birds into his eyes and ears so we can keep tabs on dangerous villains. He’s also known to take more personal requests on occasion, especially for people he’s fond of which is definitely true of Dr. Hennessy. The heroes who stay at the Bowl full-time are thick as thieves.

  “Do you think so?” She asks cautiously, almost as though she feels just saying it is breaking some sort of rule.

  “Yes,” I respond wholeheartedly, “We can go together. I still have my own request to make of him anyways.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Char?” Allacia asks, “It seems a little…creepy.” I don’t look at her, but I can almost feel her gaze on me. She does have a point, kinda.

  “I’m not suggesting we stalk her,” I elaborate, “Just make sure nothing immediately suspicious is going on and that the Birdkeeper doesn’t recognize the person she’s with. That would as good as confirm they’re not dangerous, or at least just normal person dangerous.” I hear Allacia tut and Elias let out a considering hum, but Dr. Hennessy stands at once, deciding for herself before any of us can argue the point further.

  “I say we do it,” She says, and starts towards the open door, grabbing a key hanging by it before gesturing for us to follow. I shrug at the others and while Allacia frowns, we all leave without saying another word. Dr. Hennessy locks the door behind us and starts speed walking away, leaving us all to catch up.

  The Roost, which surprisingly enough is the room’s formal name and not just what people call it, is surprisingly comfy. Several couches have been set up in the tall, heavily windowed room on the top floor so that people can sit while listening to reports. Above, cages hang from just about every square foot of the ceiling, with the sole exception of just above the couches, for obvious reasons. Even mind-controlled birds are still birds.

  The Birdkeeper himself is a rather enigmatic man in his early sixties, who wears for a costume some old aviator fly suit that he’s obsessively fond of. It constantly has to be mended, as it’s not designed to be particularly durable, and even now it has several visible talon marks of various sizes. He’s just sitting comfortably on one of the couches as we enter, his ability doing most of his work for him.

  “Oh, company!” He says, in the voice of someone's kindly old grandpa, “I was wondering when you’d arrive. Charlie, I assume you’re here about that new villain, and Holly, dear, is this about your wife?” None of us react immediately, for as used to him as we are it’s still a little strange. The old spymaster has his quirks, but never let it be said he’s bad at his job. Quite the opposite, in fact. Rumors - mostly Elias, to be honest - suggest he’s been doing this since the Upheaval, which is well before most of the people in this room were even born.

  “Got it in one, sir,” I reply. He already knows, but I’ve found he likes being told he’s right, and he’s definitely the type of guy one wants on their side.

  “Well, I’ve been keeping track of her for you already, so no need to worry. I’ll send a bird your way when I have enough for a report,” He dismisses me with a wave of his hand, and while I’m normally not inclined to argue, that wasn’t the only business I was interested in.

  “What about me?” Dr. Hennessy asks, “Do you have anything?”

  “Oh, yes, yes, yes, I’ve been wanting to discuss that with you. The rest of you, shoo, this is not your business,” The Birdkeeper waves us off one last time, and this time I obey, nodding at Dr. Hennessy as a comfort before Allacia, Elias, and I leave the two to their discussion.

  Outside the Roost, I’m left feeling a little lost. I’d expected that to take longer and not just to be kicked out immediately. Allacia seems to notice and comes up to me.

  “Elias and I can wait for her, if you want to head home,” She offers. I consider it for a moment, then shake my head.

  “I was going to get a drink before I got home, wind down a little after today. That can wait,” I reply. Allacia’s expression softens further, as if she thought it somehow too harsh before.

  “You’re fine. Go. We’re better off here anyways, we do kinda live here after all,” She presses, and I’m forced to relent. I know better than to expect this conversation to go anywhere.

  “If you’re looking for something close to home, that nightclub west of Newark recently started selling synth drinks. If I recall, you live pretty close,” Elias helpfully provides. This is actually amazing news. Until now, I was resigned to finding a bar in the city - nowhere else nearby stocks the lab-synthesized drinks that work on me. A combination of expense and lack of demand means they’re near impossible to find outside the most major of cities, where enough SAU’s live to justify the price.

  “Thanks, I might check that out,” I reply, “See you two tomorrow.” The two wave goodbye as I start my journey. I’m outside the bowl pretty quickly, and find myself out on the bustling streets of Newest York. I hear a ding from my phone and pull it out to find Elias has just sent me a message.

  “Here’s the address,” He writes, “Don’t get lost :).” I scoff, recognizing the reference to a time when I spent so long looking for a villain’s hideout, they actually left. In my defense, all warehouses look exactly the same, how was I supposed to know I passed by the correct one seven times? Evil lairs are supposed to be visibly dangerous and foreboding, everybody knows that.

  Checking the address he sent out of pure curiosity and definitely nothing else, I set my sights due west and check the road ahead quickly. They don’t call it “the city that doesn’t sleep” for nothing, and the main roads are as busy as they are during the day. Fortunately, I don’t need to drive, and after finding a suitable path between two rows of cars, I start running.

  Unlike running somewhere in the city, my destination is far enough away now that I have time to build up speed, and I love it. I was a runner way before I got my powers, doing track and field in middle school before my ability got me banned. Even after that I never quite forgot the feeling of wind in my hair, the sight of objects blurring past me, the burn of exertion in my legs. I run like the wind itself is racing me and I fucking win.

  I didn’t choose my codename for nothing. I may not be the strongest, or even seem all that quick at first, but at my top speed I am fast. So fast that the nearly twenty miles I estimate were between me and the bar take me only about ten minutes. I’m completely worn out by the end, but I was already running on near empty anyway, so that likely has the most to do with it.

  Finally having arrived at the club, I enter through an alleyway coming off a rather quiet and dimly lit street. This place is pretty out-of-the-way, so I’m not at all surprised when, upon flashing my ID to the bouncer and entering, I find it pretty sparse. There’s music, a few people dancing, and of course a few more hanging out by the bar, but nothing like the clubs in Newest York get on a good night.

  I saunter over to the bar and plop myself down next to a woman in a leather jacket who happens to also be sporting a mess of bright pink curls. Seems I can’t quite escape that color. I flag down the bartender and ask for a few drinks I know until I finally stumble upon one they have, and he hurries off to get it. Seems the place is new enough to synth drinks that they don’t know quite yet what’s good and what isn’t.

  I get a glass bottle sent my way a few minutes later and for a while I just sit there, enjoying my drink and listening to the music in the background. I never really intended to party or even meet people, just relax, so I’m a little lost as to where to go next until the woman beside me turns her head my way and smiles.

  “Seems you’re the only other super in this place, huh? Guess that’s what I get this far out from the city,” She quietly says to me, and immediately I feel a little startled.

  “How did you…” I begin, but her soft smile turns into a smirk of amusement and I pause, sensing I made a mistake.

  “You just tried to order eleven different synth beers, princess. Loudly. The whole bar knows,” She offers me her hand to shake in greeting, “My name’s Rowan, and who might you be, princess?”

  “Charlie,” I respond, taking her hand, “so you can stop calling me princess. I’ll have you know I’m no damsel in distress.”

  “Not a lot of us are,” Rowan argues, “but you’re certainly more awkward than most. Rough day?”

  “You don’t know the half of it. So, you’re a SAU too? And not from here, clearly, otherwise you wouldn’t have used the slang normal people use to describe us,” I quickly change the subject, not wanting to think about today any more.

  “Got it in one,” Rowan replies, then flashes me a middle finger that just happens to be currently wreathed in striking red flames. Classy.

  “And if you must know,” She continues, “I’m from outside the USC.”

  That gives me pause, and not just because it’s an obvious lie, but because she said it so casually I almost feel like believing her. Everybody knows that outside the Union for the Stability of Civilization, or USC, is a series of increasingly hellish half-formed nations living in the ruins of the world before the Upheaval. People aren’t just from there, not the least of which because it’s supposed to be impossible to enter the USC from outside.

  “Like, from beyond the actual cloudwall? That’s bullshit. I shouldn’t have to tell you why that’s not possible,” I contradict, feeling the whole time like I’m lying to myself. Something about this girl makes me think she could actually do it.

  “Says the person who's never tried,” Rowan counters, “But yeah, I’m from Asia. In case you didn’t notice, I’m about a quarter Chinese.” Looking closer to confirm, she does actually seem to be telling the truth on that one. She has a few subtle marks of Asian heritage on her face. However, that doesn’t mean she’s from outside the USC, given that third-generation and higher immigrant families from all over are still common here.

  “Suuuuure,” I respond sarcastically, “If I say I believe you, can we drop it? I’ve had enough weirdness today without having to think about the ramifications of what you just told me.” To Rowan’s credit, she nods, but doesn’t stop grinning at me. I feel my cheeks grow warm, half out of embarrassment and half because I just realized she’s actually kinda cute.

  I’m saved from having to consider that though further by a rather convenient distraction. A few people on the dance floor suddenly stop moving and start pointing up at the ceiling. I take a moment to follow their gazes and I’m surprised to see a rather large crow circling above. After two swoops, it suddenly flies down and lands just between Rowan and I. Two more details catch my eye: first that Rowan visibly stiffens - perhaps startled - and two that the bird has a note around its leg.

  “Don’t worry,” I tell her, realizing this must seem weird, “This is…uh…this is my ability. Yeah, let go with that.” She eyes me skeptically, but I ignore her and look down to read the note. And what I see on it makes my blood go cold. It’s a message from the Birdkeeper, one simple line that betrays something far more sinister:

  “Rowan is Hot Pink.”

  Then she starts running.