Death of a Superhero

It's all the Prophet's fault. There's no other explanation for it. I knew it all along, really, but I was too stupid, too lazy to do anything about it. It'll all sort itself out, I told myself. It can't last forever.

I was wrong. As I glance down at the picture of myself in the magazine on my coffee table, I realize I'd been dead wrong. And it's time to do something about it.

I stumble over to my kitchen, past the open cabinet, some new girl staring out at me from the cans inside, beside ones with their sides blacked out, thick marker strokes masking the image underneath. The cabinet beside it looks empty at first glance, though, if you look close enough, you might notice it isn't quite as big as the other cabinets.

The secret compartment pops open easily, contents spilling out unceremoniously, still wadded up into one big mass from the last time I'd stuffed them inside.

I don't remember it being so hard to breathe inside, but it has been a while. That's okay. No big deal. It still goes on, and that's all that's important. I almost start to feel like my old self, even though I make sure to avoid looking in the mirror on the way out of my apartment.

The wind outside is strong, almost pushing me back through the window. I put my head down and my courage up and step back out into it, daring it to try again as I make my way down the fire escape. It takes me up on that, but with my fingers wrapped around the railing, and a few prayers to anything still willing to listen, it doesn't succeed in pushing me off and onto the ground below.

I groan as I hit the ground after my jump from the final step, feeling the skin scraping off my palms as they keep me from falling flat on my face. I guess I should have planned that out a little better - I couldn't afford to talk myself out of it, however. I can't imagine what people would think if they knew I hated heights. Always had, before, and now that I'm in the after, it was true again.

I wipe my hands off on my skirt - had it always been that short? And here I thought they had been exaggerating... - and head towards the street, allowing myself to blend into the surge of people as best I can. It isn't exactly an easy task. Maybe I should have waited until I got to my destination before changing. Too late now, anyway. People here don't pay each other much mind, anyway.

The children, on the other hand, haven't learned that skill yet. The girl who stops me can't be older than ten, hair nearly as pink as the shirt she's wearing. "Didn't you hear?" she asked, ignoring her friends' urgings to leave the crazy lady alone, or they'd be late to the movie. "Omni-Girl is gone."

I shake my head with a smile, feeling my long blonde hair flowing behind me in the wind, with my cape doing the same right below it. "She'll be back. Just you wait!"

The girl glances at one of her friends, then the other, before bursting out into laughter. "What are you?" she asks finally, shaking her head, already turning to continue on her way. "An idiot?"

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"Are you some sort of imbecile?" he boomed, the final words spinning from his mouth and crashing into the wall - which would have gotten dumber, I suppose, if it'd had a brain in the first place - I'd just ducked behind. "To think that you can defeat the Prophet?"

"No, just a little optimistic," I chirped back, jumping into the air and zooming around the corner towards him.

"Yes, you're practically walking on air," he replied dryly, towards the sidewalk. He was too slow, but I turned quickly to get behind the block of cement that had just shot upwards at me, giving a bit of a spin as I prepared to kick it back towards him.

And that was when he did... whatever he did. It all happened so fast, no matter how many times I replay it in my mind - and I've done so at least a million times - I'm still not sure how he did it. He was gone by the time the projectile smashed to the ground, that much I know, but before that, before my foot actually even connected, he said something else, something my ears didn't have time to process before they were filled with my own screaming, and the sound of my leg snapping.

I must have hit the ground shortly after that, but I was already unconscious by that time.

"You have to be careful," the doctor told me. "What were you trying to do, see if you could fly? Aren't you old enough to know there are safer ways of finding out if you have powers?"

'Of course I am,' I'd wanted to tell him. 'I know more about superheroes than you could ever dream.' It was amazing, really, how few people will believe you really are a meta when you've just been carried into an emergency room with a broken leg, even when you're wearing a costume.

That was good, though, I suppose. At the very least, it kept the truth from getting into the news. Having the fact that you were just incapacitated is generally not a good thing to broadcast when you've got as many enemies as I do.

After getting over the initial annoyance of being stuck in a cast, I actually began to enjoy my forced vacation. Not knowing how my powers actually work, I just assumed that my leg was somehow connected with my ability to fly, and once the former was healed, the latter would return. No big deal, I told myself, everything's all right.

I even continued to believe that when my best friend Shelley, ever the master of tact, suggested, "Maybe you should cut back on the junk food, Jane."

I just brushed her off, since I couldn't come out and tell her I didn't have to worry about that. Whatever let me fly, and gave me super strength, had been keeping the rest of my body in peak condition since I was ten, no matter what I ate. Some creepy photographer guy had even given me his card once after I'd stopped a robbery in a bank he'd been visiting, told me I should give him a call if I ever needed some extra money, and he'd get me a gig modeling for whatever magazine he worked for. It was kind of flattering, but I made enough cash from my sponsorships that I'd never given it any serious consideration.

Still, when I was getting dressed to get my cast taken off, I couldn't help but notice that there was a little more belly than usual between my shirt and my skirt. "Just your imagination," I told myself. "Everything will be fine once the cast is gone."

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"How can it all be gone already?" I grumbled, turning the can upside down and shaking it, even though I could clearly see that it was empty of everything but a little plastic measuring cup, which fell out into my cup. "What a gyp," I sighed. I really should have talked to them about it. Or kept a better eye on what they were actually doing.

I pulled on my coat, stumbled towards the elevator. "There's still a message waiting for you at the desk," the doorman reminded me as I brushed past, blinking, into the too bright world outside.

There was a convenience store on the corner. Took two seconds to get to flying, far too long walking. Still, it was the closest. I wasn't about to buy a car to get around in - in theory I could drive, since I kept my license renewed and all, but I hadn't been behind the wheel since I'd passed the test. And I'd never learned to ride a bike, nor was I going to try to learn how in the middle of the city. My dad had been supposed to teach me, but he was always busy, and once I found out I could fly, I kinda lost all interest, even when he finally bought me a bike for my eleventh birthday. I guess he would still have it rusting in his garage, if he were still alive.

The cashier glanced up from his magazine when the bell over the door rang, announcing my arrival. If my previous visits were any indication, he gave me the slightest of nods before proceeding to ignore me. I'm not completely certain, since I was already halfway across the store by then.

My heart skipped a beat when my eyes fixed upon the usual spot, only to find a bunch of pictures of trees staring back at me. I turned around, glanced down the aisle. Not there. I walked up and down a few times, just to make sure.

"Hey," I said finally. He lifted his head slowly, looking for all the world like a turtle. "Where is...?"

"Up here," he nodded towards a bin in front of the counter, which was where he normally put anything and everything that was set to expire in a week or less.

"Is that it?"

He shrugged, already getting re-enthralled in his magazine. "They didn't send any more. Guess they're discontinuing it. She's gone, you know. Guess that's bad publicity."

"She'll be back," I told him angrily, scooping up all of the cans I could find in the bin and shoving them onto his counter. "Just you wait!"

"Whatever you say," he said with a smile, turning his head to fake cough, so he thought I wouldn't see him roll his eyes. "Why are you so obsessed with her anyway? What did she ever do, besides pose for some diet drink that doesn't even work?"

"She was a great hero," I informed him. "Maybe if you didn't spend all day looking at porn, you'd have time to watch the news!"

He shrugged stiffly. "Maybe so. $34.78, ma'am."

I yanked out my purse, still glaring at him, shoved a handful of bills at him, not even bothering to count the change when he gave it back to me, though I could tell there wasn't much of it, nor was there much for it to join in my purse. I should have used his ATM before storming out, but I was hardly in the mood to be told that the diet company still hadn't deposited my next paycheck. I couldn't really call them up and tell them I was still around, either.

Once I get my powers back, I'll fly over there and give them a piece of my mind, I told myself. Maybe even threaten to let some other company use my image instead. There were plenty of diet programs out there.

"Message for you, Miss Delacroix."

I ignored him, hurried into the elevator and pounded on the button for my floor before he could follow. I set the plastic bags down on the floor of the elevator as it rose, opening and closing my fingers where the handles had dug down into my flesh, trying to forget that not long ago, I could've carried ten times that weight and barely notice a thing.

The elevator doors opened with a ding, and I bent down to pick up the bags again, only to drop them and start pressing random buttons, trying to get the doors to close before the two hotel employees standing in front of my apartment door could see me.

I sank to the floor next to the bags as the doors closed. "Son of a bitch," I moaned. When were they going to give up? They were more persistent than most of my archvillians!

I sighed, eyes sweeping the elevator, while a dozen miniature copies of them stared up at me. I could feel my hand starting to shake while I tried to keep my gaze away from them, but I couldn't help myself. My black marker was still up in the apartment... I had a pen in my purse, though, and I snatched it out, grabbed the nearest can, and started scribbling madly.

"Stop looking at me," I growled. "Stop it!"

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"And what do you feel when you look at yourself?"

I shrugged uncomfortably. How did I let Shelley talk me into this? It was stupid, and a total waste of money that should have gone to paying my phone bill.

"Shelley tells me you're a big fan of Omni-Girl." The psychologist adjusted her glasses calmly, while I squirmed under her gaze, trying to find something to say.

"I guess," I said finally.

"You look a little like her." I shrugged again, unsure if I should thank her or not. I'd have liked to think that was a compliment.

"I used to look more like her."

"How so?"

I glanced down at the floor, feeling my arms circling around my stomach.

"Are you worried about your weight?" I started to shrug again, found myself nodding, ever so slightly, instead. "You know all those pictures of her are airbrushed, don't you?"

"No, they aren't!" I snapped, glaring at her and meeting her eyes for the first time.

"All right," she conceded. "But either way, Jane, you're at a perfectly normal weight for someone your age. You're a beautiful young lady. I want you to remember that, okay?"

"Really?" I whispered. She nodded. "I just feel so... ordinary."

"You're beautiful," she repeated. "I want you to tell yourself that every day."

"I'm beautiful."

"Exactly."

----------------------------------------

"I guess you'll do," he sighed. "I've seen worse."

"You gave me your card," I reminded him, again.

"No, I gave my card to the real Omni-Girl. Dressing up like her doesn't make you her."

I bit my tongue; I needed the money, and I couldn't really see myself becoming a waitress or something like that. I might have sunk pretty low, but I wasn't there yet. If he didn't want to believe me... Well, I wouldn't have either, to be honest.

"Be here tomorrow," he told me, turning back to his computer. "Ten. Or I'll find someone else."

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"This is the best you could find?" I wasn't sure exactly who said that - there were far more people around than I ever would have guessed would be needed to take a few pictures - but I could feel my cheeks flushing as I heard it. I might have done something about it, another time, at least if I hadn't been so busy making sure no important parts of my anatomy fell out of my "wardrobe".

I'd worn my costume there, of course, just as I had the day before, but once I'd shown up that day, I was whisked away to a dressing room, given what looked like a copy of it made for a kid. I tried to tell them they'd given me the wrong size, but they just told me to hurry up, I was already late.

I'm not going to pretend my costume was particularly modest - I know it wasn't. What mattered to me more was that it was comfortable, easy to move in, and, most importantly, that it looked good on me. The cape was the exception, to be honest. Back when I was a kid, though, back when metas were first showing up, everyone had them, I guess because superheroes in comics wore them. It had seemed wrong to have any sort of costume without one, and I couldn't seem to get rid of it, even though most metas nowadays don't bother with them, and are probably better off for it.

Other than that, my costume was pretty simple - a blue miniskirt, a slit up the right thigh, and spankies underneath. I'd switched to shorts underneath for a little while, but that just seemed silly. On top, I had a pink, sleeveless shirt that tied (most of the way) shut at my left side. I had a mask that covered the top half of my face that I wore when I remembered it, which was usually if I was going to do something high profile, where there were likely to be television crews around. Which was most of the time, really.

"Oh, that's good," the photographer told me. I looked around confusedly a time or two before I noticed I was holding the cape closed around myself. Even though I was doing it because I was halfway convinced various body parts were going to be popping out of their version of my costume any moment, I felt myself relax a little at hearing this. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all; maybe I was a natural!

I let myself get ushered to the set, which was pretty simple, just a bunch of lights and a sky backdrop. Kind of disappointing, really, but I was hardly in a position to complain. The photographer started snapping pictures, while I did my best to look at least cute, moving up to sexy as he talked me into finally letting the cape go.

I'd been photographed before, of course, but it had been a little while, and it hadn't been the same thing. Still, once we got started, I managed to lose myself in the rhythm of it, to even enjoy the attention. It wasn't the same as having people calling out how thankful they were that you just saved their home/wife/children/whatever, but I thought I could learn to make do with it. Maybe I'd even keep doing it after I got my powers back...

I didn't think anything of it when he told me to take off my cape - I was even a little grateful. I noticed them changing the backdrop on me, didn't pay much attention to it, nor did it particularly bother me when he told me to lay down on top of the cape. I stared up at the camera as seductively as one could with a mask on.

But he finally snapped me back to my senses when he said, "All right, now let's have that shirt off."

"Huh?" I blinked.

"Off with it," he repeated. "Can't keep teasing the whole time, now can we?"

I grabbed the cape, pulling it up and over me, the reality of what I'd been doing hitting me. "I think we can."

"Do you now?" he sneered. "Guess you don't have much practice with the whole thinking thing, do you?"

I recoiled a little, surprised to feel a tear at the corner of my eye. "Screw you." I got to my feet. "I don't need this!"

"Then why were you begging me to take you yesterday? You're lucky I didn't kick you out of my office the moment I laid eyes on you! Do you honestly think anyone else will want you?"

I could feel my strength returning as my back straightened, and my resolve finally broke through the Prophet's spell. I could have knocked the photographer right through the wall if I'd wanted, but I had to remember he was just a human, no matter how sleazy he might be.

Or I would have liked that to have been a problem, anyway. If fate was at all nice, that might have happened. Instead, I just felt a pain in my knuckles, and then a much larger one across my cheek, and I found myself on the floor, mouth filling with blood as I stared up at the photographer.

"Get out of my studio," he growled, lightly rubbing his jaw, which probably didn't get so much as a bruise.

------------------------------

"Get out of here!" Shelley shook her head.

"They told me I didn't have enough experience," I shrugged. If I weren't so used to it from years of protecting my secret identity, I might have felt uncomfortable lying to her. "How much experience does it take to sell books?"

"Well, have you ever worked retail before?"

"Whose side are you on?" I sulked. "I'm twenty, I think I can figure out how to run a freakin' cash register." Not that I particularly wanted to waste my time on that. Which is, I suppose, why I hadn't bothered actually applying for the job.

"I'm sure," she said patronizingly. "I told you we have an opening at Harry's, didn't I? I could put in a good word for you if you want... I mean, you'd have to move out of this place, but you'd have to do that anyway. I'm surprised your inheritance lasted this long, as high as rent here is."

My inheritance had been almost exactly enough to pay for my first month there, but I couldn't explain that without telling her how I'd paid for every month since then. I guess if I'd gotten a smaller place to begin with, the sponsorship money would've lasted longer, except that I'd probably have just found something else to spend it on. And, besides, with all the good I could do in the city, I deserved a nice place to live, didn't I? I certainly deserved better than the dump Shelley lived in, the one she could barely pay for.

"I think I'll see what else I can find," I told her. And I'd have to soon, if only because I was running out of places to tell her I'd applied at. There were a couple I'd actually tried to get to hire me, but after they'd flat out rejected me, I'd just sort of given up. "I'm sure something will come up."

"You don't have -any- experience?" she asked for the hundredth time. "Not a summer job when you were in high school, nothing?"

I shrugged. "I always had better things to do. You know." And I'd never thought there was any point to bothering with some fast food place or whatever, not when I knew I was destined for much more important things than that. I wouldn't have minded working at a clothes store or something, I suppose, other than having to deal with all the stupid customers.

"Well," she smiled, not quite able to hide the pity in her eyes. "Like you said... I'm sure something will come up."

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"Come on up!" the voice chirped from the box. I heard the lock click, and was surprised that the whole door didn't fall apart. I stayed outside for a moment, staring up at the dingy windows with a sigh. It wasn't too late to take Shelley up on her offer, suck it up and learn to be a waitress. And give up my apartment, I reminded myself, and probably half my stuff, just so whatever little hellhole I managed to find wouldn't be full, wall to wall.

I stepped through the door, having to give the bottom a little kick to get it to open. 'They're going to pay you,' I reminded myself, no matter how ridiculous that seemed. Maybe they didn't have the funds to move to a better building because they spent it all on models?

Though, if that were the case, I'd be walking back out the door after a minute or two, which was all the longer I'd lasted everywhere else. Here, though... Surely they couldn't afford to be that picky, could they?

"Good morning!" the little man who answered the office door exclaimed, gesturing for me to enter. "How are you doing?"

I forced myself to smile. "I'm all right."

"Great!" He closed the door, had me follow him to the couch at the center of the room, in front of a magazine covered coffee table. I sat down carefully, ready to dart away quickly if it came to that. "Would you like something to drink?" I shook my head. "Okay... Well, I guess I should make sure... You're still comfortable with everything we talked about over the phone?"

I chewed on my bottom lip, hesitating, before nodding, barely keeping myself from bursting into tears.

"Are you all right?"

I glanced up at him with a sad little smile. "I'm fine," I assured him. "I've just... I've never done anything like this before."

"Oh, you'll be great!" he promised with a warm chuckle. "It's easy as pie."

"I didn't... I mean... I don't really have..." I struggled with the words, one in particular that I couldn't get to squeeze pas my lips.

"We provide wardrobe," he winked. "You ready to get started?"

No, I wasn't. But I nodded anyway, let him lead me to the so-called dressing room.

"Get it over with," I whispered. "Do it, or get out."

I slipped off my blouse, fingers brushing against my bra, but somehow unable to unhook it just yet. Instead, I slipped off my jeans, then stared at myself in the mirror, shaking like some teenager on prom night.

"Get it over with," I whispered. "Just do it." I had been a hero, damn it - surely I was strong enough still to do this.

Then again, if I was a real hero, maybe I wouldn't have had to.

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"Now that was a real hero," the man shook his head while he looked at the newspaper clutched in his hands. "Did you hear about that? Some psycho killed one of those superhero chicks."

"I think they're called metahumans or something," his companion corrected him.

"Oh, she's not dead," I said, finally having worked up the courage to interrupt their little conversation. "She'll be back."

The first man raised his eyebrow, glanced at me like I'd forgotten to change into my real clothes after my last modeling session. "No, I'm pretty sure she's dead. Got electrocuted or something."

"Huh?" I cocked my head sideways to get a better look at the paper, which he was now holding at his side. "Oh. Sorry, got confused there. Still... Kinda seems like something's out for female meta's, huh?"

"What?" They were both watching me now, expressions totally confused.

"Well, this one gets killed, and Omni-Girl vanished a while back and all..."

"Oh, her." The second man shrugged. "Forgot about that." I could almost believe the memory of it had come back to him, then. Almost.

"Morning!" the cashier called, voice giving a little hitch when he recognized me. I kept my eyes on the floor as I made my way to the usual aisle.

Surprisingly enough, despite my fears, there were plenty of cans of my diet drinks waiting for me. Even more surprisingly, there was some stranger on them. I moved the first row, wondering if they'd just found a joint spokeswoman, but all the cans behind had the same person, as did all the ones behind them.

The cashier was silent as I paid for my purchase, which was lucky, since I was probably too shell-shocked to have been able to reply to anything. How could they just replace me like that?

The doorman nodded to me, but didn't have anything to say besides, "Afternoon, Miss Delacroix."

I was surprised to find a large manilla envelope waiting for me with the rest of my mail, until I pulled out the letter inside.

"Jane -

"Hope you had as much fun as I did. You're welcome back anytime. Hope you like the picture I chose for the cover - it was my favorite."

I stared at the envelope for a long time before tossing it into the garbage, deciding that I really didn't want to see it. After all that, I'd rather just spend my money and pretend it had never happened, even though I knew that, soon enough, I was going to need another paycheck from somewhere.

Could I do it again? Probably not there, but surely there was some other sleazy rag that was looking for girls to photograph. The first time was probably the hardest, so...

I brought that train of thought to a screeching halt, my mind somehow only then catching up with the reality of what I was thinking, what I had sunk to.

"What the hell am I doing?"

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"How the hell did you find me?" The Prophet asks, the air around him crackling with fire for a brief moment before just the smell of sulphur remains.

"I'm Omni-Girl," I told him. "I've got my sources." That, and I knew he liked to take walks in this park. It was a nice place, and he never caused any trouble here, so I'd never had any reason to let him know I knew about it until now. I should have gone sooner, but I've been too scared to face him, helpless as I am, too stubborn in insisting that my powers to come back, too busy waiting for them to do so. Waiting for them to come back, and let me start living my life again.

"Even if you don't have powers?" He smiles slyly, electricity running along the ground towards me, slowly enough to give me time to hop out of the way.

"Please, give them back," I beg, falling to my knees. If he wants to cut to the chase, I can do that. "I'll do whatever you want. I'll never bother you again. Just... Give them back. I need them."

He nods slowly. "You do, don't you? Well, unfortunately for you... I didn't take them. Sorry."

With that, he turns, starts to walk away.

"What?" I stand up, hands balling into fists. "What did you say?!"

"I said I didn't take your powers," he repeats. "So I can't give them back."

"Why should I believe you?!" I shout. "How do I know it wasn't you? How do I know you're not doing anything to me now?"

He stops at the last question, turns around. "Why would I bother?"

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The sun is setting by the time I get back to my apartment, the street lights starting to flicker to life.

I press the button for my floor, but can't get myself to move once the elevator doors open there. They slide closed again.

"It had to be him," I tell myself. He's lying, that has to be it. He wants something else. I can't imagine what else he could want to take from me, but there must be something.

But, no matter how much sense I'd like that to make, deep inside, I know he was telling the truth. And that's what scares me the most.

I press another button, feel the elevator rise again. This time I do step out, and up the last set of stairs, to the door to the roof.

If he didn't do it, maybe it was me, somehow. Just some psychological thing. Like Dumbo. I smile a little, thinking back to that movie. It had been my favorite, when I was ten. When I'd gotten my powers, and promised myself I'd use them for good, always, and be the best hero ever.

Had I kept that promise? When was the last time I'd done something good, and not so I could hear people talk about what a great person I was, or to get my picture in the evening news again? I'm not sure.

Maybe it was my inner child that was behind this all, trying to remind me of that promise.

I step forward, stare down at the lights buzzing beneath my feet. I used to look down at them all the time, and never thought a thing about it, had barely even recognized that there were people behind those lights, real people.

But I know that now. Maybe -that- was what I'd needed to learn.

I lift one foot, begin to swing it over the edge. "Just do it," I whisper. It's all I need, I know it. Just jump, and you'll have your powers again. That's all it will take.

Those are people, I tell myself, looking down again. People like Shelley, though not quite like me. Or rather, not quite like Omni-Girl. But are they like me?

The lights dance below me.

I don't know. I honestly don't know.

I've been waiting so long for my powers to come back. Waiting for my life to come back. Is that all there is to me, though? My powers? Are they all that I am?

I step away from the edge. Maybe it's okay to let Omni-Girl stay gone for a little longer... Maybe it's time I get to know Jane Delacroix.