Black and Blue Read online

  Nancy O'Toole Meservier

  Black and Blue

  Copyright © 2019 by Nancy O'Toole Meservier

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  First edition

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  Contents

  Lady Justice

  Dawn

  Alex

  Dawn

  Alex

  Dawn

  Alex

  Dawn

  Alex

  Dawn

  Alex

  Team Up

  Dawn

  Alex

  Dawn

  Alex

  Torn Apart

  Dawn

  Alex

  Epilogue

  Hikari and Faultline will return...

  Also by Nancy O'Toole Meservier

  1

  Lady Justice

  “I need a second to put on my mask.”

  Christine “Chrissy” Templeton nodded and leaned back in the passenger seat. Glancing up at the rear-view mirror, she watched as her husband—already clad in his Captain Justice costume—made his way toward the back of their van. With a sigh, she reached down and unbuckled her seat belt, knowing it would take Rick much longer than “a second” to get ready. It was hard not to linger over the irony.

  When they had first met in college—twelve years before—Rick had said one of his favorite things about her was the fact that she wasn’t “vain” like other girls.

  “You don’t spend all of your time looking in the mirror, fixing your makeup,” he had said, “or obsessing over clothes.”

  In all fairness, the same could be said about him on regular days. The most thought he put into his appearance was deciding which band/gaming-related tee he should put on. The answer typically correlated with what was clean. But when he put on the mantle of Captain Justice, he spent plenty of time looking in the mirror, adjusting his costume and trying his best to disguise the small potbelly that had shown up around his thirtieth birthday. One day, she had even caught him taking a selfie before an event, and she’d been unable to stop herself from teasing him.

  “What are you, a teenage girl?” she had asked with a laugh.

  Rick’s face had turned so red that Chrissy felt bad for making fun of him. It was just a picture, after all.

  “It’s different,” he said. “More important. It’s not about making myself look good. We’re Bailey City’s biggest Costumes. We need to be conscious about how we represent the cause.”

  That had been two years ago. At the time, she had treated his words with a heavy dose of skepticism. But now…

  Chrissy leaned forward, digging into the backpack at her feet. She pulled out a handful of brochures. The top one was about animal testing at SynergyCorp. She frowned for a moment then pushed that aside, feeling a little guilty as she did so. There just were so many good causes out there. So many problems that people weren’t aware of. From the sweatshops that made the clothing on their backs to the mines that produced the metals in their cell phones, being aware of the various atrocities across the world could be exhausting. She finally settled on the new water-bottling plant that was supposed to be built just a couple of hours away. That one was both time-sensitive and local. Relevant to the people of Bailey City.

  “Hey, I thought we weren’t doing that.”

  Chrissy looked up to see Rick standing above her. He was dressed in an electric blue-and-green wet suit, with a matching cape that came down to his knees. The most professional part of his costume was his mask. It had been recently purchased from an expensive clothier who specialized with Costumes—those who dressed up like superheroes—and Actuals—those who were officially recognized as superheroes. Chrissy had balked at the price of the masks when she had first seen them. That much money for something so small? Especially for powerless, social justice-focused Costumes like them, who had zero chance of becoming Actuals? It was ridiculous. And the fact that they were so nice made the rest of their costumes look even shabbier by comparison.

  Chrissy was dressed in a similar getup, with the colors reversed. Lady Justice, they called her. And if the thousands of Likes on their Facebook page were any indication, far more people knew her by that alias than the name that she had been born with.

  “What do you mean?” Chrissy asked, looking down at the brochures in her hands. She had created them herself. Had to put that graphic design degree to use somehow.

  “This is a meet-and-greet. Take photos. Sign autographs. Those sort of things. Not really the place for talking about bottled water.” Rick rolled his eyes. “Think about it. Steve says we might see a hundred people today.”

  “But…isn’t that why we do this? Dress up in costumes and put on masks. To draw attention to what’s important? To educate people?”

  “Chris, I get what you’re saying, really I do. But we’ve discussed this. There are events that are all about the cause, and events that are more about raising our profile. We need to connect with our followers, not just shove messages in their faces 24/7. The more eyeballs we get, the more people we can educate.”

  “But you said we could see one hundred people today. One hundred.” Chrissy’s grip tightened on the brochures. “That’s plenty of eyeballs. Why not take advantage of that?”

  “We’ve discussed this,” Rick repeated, reaching out and patting her on the shoulder. “Come on, Chrissy. You don’t have anything to prove. I know how passionate you are about making a difference. Anyway, we need to get moving or we’re going to be late. And Captain and Lady Justice are never late.”

  With that, he turned from her and reached for the door of the van. As the driver’s side door swung open, Chrissy felt a torrent of words fly to her lips. Like how there were more important things than showing up on time. Or maybe if he was so concerned about being late, he shouldn’t have been taking selfies in the back of the van—don’t think she hadn’t seen that. Or how more and more of these events seemed to be about “raising their profile” or “gaining more followers” or even “brand identity” than changing the world.

  The door swung shut in front of her, right as Chrissy figured out what she wanted to say.

  Typical.

  It had been Rick’s idea to put on the masks, a suggestion Chrissy had found strange, given that she had been the one who had grown up with Wonder Woman action figures and X-Men cartoons. Rick had always been more of a gamer. But then she had seen the results. The type of attention that putting on the right costume could get. The amount of people who had said, “Wow, I never thought about it like that before.” That had convinced her. They were doing the right thing.

  But lately…she couldn’t help but wonder if she and Rick were doing it for the same reasons.

  Gritting her teeth, Chrissy grabbed a fistful of brochures and exited the van. There was nothing wrong with just laying them out on their table. Even Rick could see that. They wouldn’t even need to talk about the water-bottling plant directly. Unless someone wanted to.

  Shutting the van door behind her, Lady Justice followed her husband to the front door of Northwest Comics.

  “I’m so glad you guys could make it!”

  The owner of Northwest Comics, Steve Mason, greeted Captain and Lady Justice with a wide smile. Chrissy was glad that she had bothered to look up the owner’s name in advance or it would have been quite a shock to her to see her old classmate from West Bailey High, alb
eit almost fifteen years older and a good fifty pounds heavier. She had a secret identity to worry about, after all, and her long, frizzy brown hair and tall, lanky frame were similar enough to her high school self, even if her face was noticeably older.

  She had to admit there was something comforting about the fact that Steve appeared unchanged, personality-wise. Warm and welcoming, it was clear why Steve had always been surrounded by friends in high school. Sadly, had he not remained in the closet until college, he probably wouldn’t have had quite so many acquaintances. West Bailey High had been disappointingly homophobic, in a quieter don’t-ask-don’t-tell type of way. Kids these days seemed so more much accepting.

  “We’re glad too,” Rick said, reaching out to shake Steve’s hand.

  “Do we set up here?”

  He nodded toward a card table, located conveniently near the door of the long, skinny shop. People would see them the moment they stepped inside.

  “Of course. Do you need help bringing anything in?” Steve asked.

  “We’re fine.” Rick shrugged, drawing attention to his ratty old backpack, a constant companion since college. “Got everything in here.”

  “Great,” Steve said, guiding them to the table. “You’ll have to be careful. It’s a little tipsy.”

  Rick began laying out the stacks of photos that they were planning on selling and signing. There were three different pictures: one of them together, and two solo shots. Chrissy had to admit that she was fond of hers. It had been taken inside of one of SynergyCorp’s own facilities that they had broken into six months back. She stood, spine ramrod straight, her mouth set into a determined frown. Behind her were cages filled with adorable white, fluffy bunnies, victims of SynergyCorp’s twisted “science.” In her hand, she held a large flag with one visible word: “Justice?” The question mark was big and bold.

  She had never felt like more of a badass.

  Rick’s picture was a little less illegal, showing him looking off a mountain at Acadia National Park, his hair windswept, his cape positioned in a way that shielded his rounded middle.

  Above them, a television switched from a commercial to local news. A pretty, young newscaster—Deanna, Chrissy believed she was called—welcomed everyone back before going into the first story.

  “Former Mayor Edison Kent has called a press conference for later this morning. His staff has been mum on the details, but most suspect—”

  Rick froze as he caught sight of the brochures on the table.

  “Chrissy?” He started, voice soft.

  “They’re…they’re not doing much harm on the table.” She tried to keep her voice light. “And I’m not planning on talking about them. But if someone happens to pass by and find that they look interesting—”

  As if on cue, the door opened wide and a bell rang sharply. Chrissy looked up and watched as a young Asian girl entered the store. Chrissy blinked in surprise, wondering if the girl were taking part in some sort of costume contest. Her ensemble looked as if she were from half a century ago. Her black glossy hair was arranged in victory rolls, her scarlet dress either vintage, or vintage inspired. Her lips and shoes were painted a matching red. She fought off the November chill with what Chrissy hoped was a faux-fur jacket. As she passed by, she glanced over the contents of the table.

  “Ah, Deep Waters,” she said, nodding toward Chrissy’s brochure. “I heard they were trying to open a plant nearby.”

  “Just an hour outside of the city,” Chrissy replied, jumping up from her chair. “Well…a little more than that. Regardless, before we let another company tap into our aquifers, we need them to answer some serious questions about sustainability, and the CEO has been far from forthcoming.”

  “That’s not encouraging.”

  Chrissy nodded vigorously. She picked up a brochure and pushed it toward the girl.

  “Here, we’re planning a protest—Captain Justice and myself—for next Wednesday. If you or anyone you know would like to come—”

  “I thought Wednesday was SynergyCorp protest day.”

  Chrissy paused and blinked. How did she—

  “You’ve been following us, I see?” Rick added in, deepening his voice as he always did when playing Captain Justice. Chrissy secretly thought it made him sound congested.

  “It’s kind of hard not to pick up on the fact when you’re there pretty much every Wednesday,” the girl replied. “I don’t feel like I’ve ever been that reliable about anything in my life.”

  Chrissy let out a bark of laughter that ended in a snort. She reached up and covered her mouth in embarrassment. The girl, thankfully, didn’t react.

  “Thanks for the invite. I’ll see what I can do,” she said. “Nice to meet you both.”

  And with that, she walked over to the desk, where Steve was already waiting for her with a small stack of comics.

  “Hey, Sunshine,” he said. “Have you seen that they’re doing another arc of Lady Killer?”

  Chrissy turned to look at Rick, smiling triumphantly. See! Having the brochures did help! And there were more in the van if they ran out.

  He gave her a begrudging smile.

  “Would you mind turning that up?” The college girl—Sunshine, Steve had called her; was that even a name?—said from the desk.

  Chrissy turned to them and watched as Steve pulled out a remote for the television and turned up the volume a few notches. Chrissy craned her neck upward to see Bailey City’s most famous citizen on the screen.

  Hikari.

  She felt her breath catch as the camera caught Hikari bursting through the open window of a burning building, a squirming bundle in her arms. She dropped to the ground, then looked up and smiled, passing the bundle of blankets to a nearby fireman. The feed cut to a closeup of the blankets. The top layer was moved aside to reveal three squirming kittens.

  “Although Bailey City’s resident Actual refused to provide comments to the press, the firefighters on the scene did report her saying ‘I couldn’t leave them in there to die,’” a voice said over the footage before cutting back to a shot of Deanna at the desk. “It’s clear that all three little ones are very thankful for the Empowered woman’s interference, but some people are a little more cautious about Hikari’s continued presence. The Actual might be good for cats, but is she good for the people of Bailey City? More on that when we return.”

  Chrissy frowned at the newscaster’s unneeded commentary. She struggled to organize her thoughts into a coherent sentence, only to have Sunshine voice them first—albeit with a little more profanity.

  “What the fuck is her problem? That woman is a literal saint. How could anyone that rescues kittens be bad for Bailey City?”

  “Not everyone likes her,” Rick said with a shrug.

  “What? Everyone I know thinks she’s great. Hell, she’s even impacted tourism. This time of year, everyone used to go north to check out the leaves. But now people are coming into Bailey City in hopes of catching sight of her.”

  “We’ve noticed an uptick in people asking if we know her,” Chrissy piped up. “Since Hunter Davies, of course.”

  Chrissy had always found the way that people became Actuals to be a little odd. Anyone could dress up in a costume, even if they didn’t have superheroic goals. Just look at her and Rick. They were activists, not vigilantes. But for those who chose a more traditional path, there was the dream of becoming an Actual, a role usually reserved for people with existing superpowers—like Hikari. And to be officially recognized as an Actual, it took more than an impressive set of powers. In fact, there were plenty of Empowered people who never gained that coveted title. No, this was all about comic books. Once the reclusive Hunter Davies put you in one of his comics, either as a hero or a villain, you were considered an Actual. Legitimate. This was something that had been going on since the first Actuals—Silver Shot and Golden Strike—had been raised to legitimacy more than ten years ago in New York.

  “There’s always some sort of backlash,” Steve said with
a shrug, “when someone makes the transition from Costume to Actual in a new city. Sometimes it’s as simple as people having a dislike for vigilantes. You know, law enforcement and the like. But other times…well, some people think there are consequences for having a world filled with super-powered beings.”

  As Steve finished, the screen began to fuzz.

  “Well, crud,” he said, before moving his way around the counter and toward the TV. He gestured to the chair Chrissy was no longer sitting on. “May I borrow…”

  “Oh! Sure.” She passed him the chair.

  He climbed on top of it and began shifting the TV, looking at the wires in the back.

  “Why’d you even put up that old thing anyway?” Sunshine asked.

  “Hikari, actually,” Steve replied. “Once an Actual emerges in a city, comic book stores tend to become meeting places for their followers. We’ve already had a few people looking for information on her. I play the news, hoping to catch stories. I’ve also been putting together a video that we can play on a loop.”

  As he spoke, the screen came back into focus. Chrissy smiled, remembering how Steve had always run the A/V equipment back in high school. He was even let out of class so he could help technology-challenged teachers set up televisions and overhead projectors. Once, he had fixed her laptop, a bulky old thing that would be considered an antique today.

  Steve jumped down from the chair and slid it back toward Chrissy.

  “Thanks,” he said. “We’ll turn it down when the meet-and-greet starts.” He paused to check his watch. “Looks like we just have a few more—”

  Steve’s voice cut off as the front door opened again, revealing a kid in a Bailey U sweatshirt. Only…something about him seemed odd.

  His hood was up, his head ducked down to hide his face. The kid, who was on the short side to begin with, slouched, as if he was trying not to draw attention to himself. Kind of impossible given how close the table was to the door. He was practically on top of the three of them. Chrissy could make out the stains on his clothing.