One of these days, I’m going to get caught in the bushes trying to change and people will think I’m some kind of pedophile. How the heck do I explain to them that I’m a superhero trying to change for work? I mean, sure, it’s a day care center and all but a grown man changing out of some weird underwear in the bushes outside of the center? Yeah, I’d be busted in a second.

I grab my backpack that I hid in the bushes before I went on patrol this morning. I quickly stuff my red costume into the pack and try to bury it under another pair of clothes (for those times that you’re covered in baby puke) and some university books. Most of the kids would’ve arrived by now so I hustle my butt out of the bushes, through the playground and into the house that’s been converted to a day care.

“Zach!!” a couple of the kids shout as I pop in the door with a “honey, I’m home!” They run up to me, all vying for my attention. I guess being the youngest worker here makes me the defacto cool guy to the kids.

Paula, one of the head workers (a woman in her thirties, a little too old for my taste), walks up to me as I’m kicking off my sneakers and making my way through a sea of kids. “Zach, you’re late again.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I was stuck in SPEC traffic in St. Mignola. Dark Steel and the Man in Pink were tearing up downtown.” I toss my sneakers into one of the hundreds of cubby holes and hang my jacket up.

“I don’t know why you don’t just move over here to Integrity. Wouldn’t it be easier commuting to school, not to mention less dangerous?” She walks with me into the main playroom area. The kids are all over the place, playing with games and toys.

“Yeah, but the costs are less over there. Easier on a student, you know? And bussing it across the river isn’t as bad as people think. Even after that incident with Spotlight holding us up on the bridge.”

I never have the heart to tell her that I don’t even take the bus in the mornings. I also never tell her that it’s easier to patrol when I live over in St. Mignola. When you live where the action is, it’s easier to just fly out the window and follow the sirens.

“Yeah, I guess so. I mean, it’s not like we can’t handle the hellions without you for a few minutes.” While she says this, one of the dozens of kids tugs on the leg of Paula’s pants.

“What’s a hellion?” the little dude asks.

“Never you mind, Bradley.” She puts a hand on his upper back and escorts him over to some of the games. “Now, what were you playing before?”

I look over to the little kitchen area to see Allison hard at work, chopping up vegetables for lunch. With dozens of kids, you kind of have to start early on that. I drop my backpack against of the stools by the island and lean into the counter.

“Need a hand with any of that?”

“Nah, I got it.” she says with a smile, glancing up at me from the carrots. “Thanks, though. Oh, and don’t forget to meet us at the movie theatre tomorrow. We’re going to need everyone to help corral the kids that day.”

“Ah, right. Thanks.”

Allison and I were both in the same class for early childhood education. We would wind up in the same group a lot of the time, too. She’s got a boyfriend but that never stopped me from being friendly, at least. I helped her get the job here at the center in Integrity City, too. We’ve been working here together for the last couple of months.

My ears pick up on the news on the radio behind Allison, “…body of former hero, Arthur Asbeck, was found in an alley…”

“Hey Ali, can you turn that up for a second?” I ask.

“Sure, Zach,” she whips around and turns the dial up a few notches on the radio.

“…outside of the Russian club, The Vodka Room. Asbeck, aged 78, was well known in the twin cities as Doc Crimson. Asbeck retired over ten years ago but had been one of the few non-SPEC heroes dating back to before the Second World War. Integrity City Police say that Asbeck may have died from a heart attack outside the Vodka Room. Eyewitnesses say that Askbeck was a known regular at the club, and enjoying the jazz music. Askbeck’s identity has been public for over a decade, leaving police to rule out any foul play among the SPEC community…”

Allison calmly whips around and turns the radio back down to a lower volume again. She looks at me while I mourn a little for the loss of a fellow hero.

“The kids don’t really need to be hearing about that kind of thing, don’t you think?” Allison asks.

“No, I know. It’s just something that caught my ear.”

“Doc save your life one time or something?” she asks, still chopping away at the carrots.

“Nah, you know I just like to keep up on the heroes around here.” I try to change the subject as quick as I could, “So, what’s needed for me around here?”

“Nice day like today, we’re gonna get the kids outside, I think. Talk to Paula,” she tells me.

“All righty,” I shrug and turn around to see if I can join in on a game of Monopoly with one of the group of kids.

It’s true, though. I’ve never really known Doc Crimson, but he was one of the longest running in our community. A lot of SPECs have only started popping up in the last ten years or so but the Doc was diffusing bombs and saving lives long before any of us were a glimmer in our dad’s eye. And to just pass away in the middle of the night outside of a Russian club? It just didn’t seem right. He should’ve at least been around his family at the time of his death. I guess it could have been worse. He could not have been identified at all and was assumed to be one of the dozens of homeless people that go unidentified every year. To die is one thing, to die without reason or being remembered is another thing.

I almost died without any reason when I first got my powers. I was taking a bus to school one morning in my last year at Integrity City University. I even remember boning up for a quiz for one of my classes that morning.

I never did hear what the whole story was, but traffic suddenly came to a halt on Abraham Bridge, the bridge connecting Integrity City and St. Mignola. In the middle of the bridge, fuming with anger and shining brighter than the sun was Spotlight. His trademark robotic right arm was smashed up to the elbow, leaving it useless. The concrete where he stood was splintered, with many witnesses saying he dropped out of the sky. Some say he was trying to lay low and was sleeping somewhere on top of the bridge.

Earlier in the year, Spotlight’s long secret identity had been revealed as Shane Vanderton, a high profile actor who made his fame in teen romp flicks. He had invested his and his family’s money into the creation of Vanderton Technologies, creating prototype robotic systems for military use. The tabloids were all over him when it was discovered that he was petty-crook and hired goon mutant, Spotlight. Despite his wealth, he needed under-the-table money to support his heroin addiction. With his rapid healing abilities, I hear his drug bills were higher than anyone had ever heard of before. Apparently, his robotic arm housed automatic needles that would feed heroin for a quick fix during a fight.

When he crashed in the middle of Abraham Bridge, he was clearly on something. I remember everyone on the bus panicked as he fired light-based laser blasts at random cars, freaking out and screaming at the top of his lungs. One of the blasts sent a large moving truck screeching on its side through traffic. I think Spotlight was freaked out from its screeching on the pavement because he kept blasting its underbelly. The truck plastered through traffic and knocked the bus careening off the side of the bridge. Half the bus was teetering over the edge while Vanderton kept blasting at random traffic with his light-based laser powers. Survivors near him apparently either got the tan of their life or were fried to a crisp from his heat alone.

To this day, I still don’t know how I did what I did. I remember thinking to myself that there are a lot of people that are getting hurt and possibly killed; especially the people around me inside the bus. At some point during all the heaving of the bus, I had been thrown to the front of the bus. I had hit my head and could swear I was hearing voices, telling me that my time was now. I remember, from a sitting position on the floor, I wrapped my arms around the base of the coin box. That was the first time I had the feeling of my powers telling me what I could do. They were telling me to take flight. So I did. There was a groaning of metal all around me as my strength surpassed any normal human being. I don’t know how the coin box stayed in its place but I felt a lifting sensation as the entire bus was lifted slightly and then pushed back onto the street.

I checked on the bus driver, who had hit his head on the wheel. Everyone else on the bus seemed to be a little banged up, but murmured something about a SPEC outside probably catching the bus in time. I didn’t have the heart to tell them otherwise. Mostly, because my heart was somewhere in my throat and I was too much in shock of what I just did to say anything at all.

We all looked outside to see that Spotlight was gone. I heard later that the electric speedster, Aftershock, had rushed across the bridge and yanked Vanderton to the middle of an empty field and finished the fight where no one would get hurt.

Still, I look back at the time that I first discovered my powers. They worked because my first thought wasn’t to save my own bacon. It was to save the people around me on that bus.