War At Home (Excerpt)

Being a superhero used to sound so cool. The powers, the fame, the fortune. Cool outfits, lots of glory. It sounded so good. I just didn’t expect all the other bullshit to come with it. Nobody told me everyone doesn’t get super powers. I thought you just had to try really hard. Most heroes aren’t famous. We aren’t even heroes, we’re vigilantes. We hid our faces to protect our own asses from the cops. The fortune? Only the money I can take from the criminals before the cops can. Cool outfits? Maybe, but nobody told me spandex was killer on anything bigger than an a-cup, so I don’t get a super cool outfit. The glory? Always goes to the cops because I can’t be there to soak it up.

Still, I do this because nobody else will in this small town. With no powers I have to get creative and prepare for the criminals I take down ahead of time. I’ve been staking out this building for the last two months. Tonight, the heads of six crime families will be meeting here. The only security will be one designated body guard for each, and a second for general patrol. That’s fourteen men and four women I have to take out. It shouldn’t be hard. I’ve done more with less prep.

I made sure to rent out a room close to the roof at the adjacent hotel. That way, I don’t have to sneak in through the front door or hide and hope they don’t find me. Right now, the first patrol guy should be checking the roof. I see him making his way around. I bugged the building during my prep so I hear him radio an all clear for the rooftop. That’s When I strike. I zipline across some telephone wires and land a solid kick to the back of his head. He’s out like a light. I remove the battery from his radio and toss the two in different directions. I zip tie his arms and legs. I prefer them to handcuffs. Just as effective, way cheaper. You can buy them by the hundred for less than ten bucks. God bless capitalism. I check the rest of my mostly homemade gear and crack my knuckles. Here goes nothing. One down, seventeen to go.

I make my way inside, there should be one guard in this stairwell before I can get to the main portion of the building. There’s a lot of stairs, and I’m not really sure which part they’ll be patrolling. Lucky me, most women are vainer than myself. Not that I don’t like to go out and drive the men wild. I hear her heels clicking across the concrete. I can get the drop on her. I take to the shadows and waits until she gets near the top. She radios in but doesn’t get a response. I’m guessing she’s trying to get a hold of the man on the roof. Seems like everyone has their own radio channel. Perfect.

She comes into sight and I make my move, a quick combination of jabs to her face. She’s got a sturdy face because a few jabs as a surprise usually puts bigger men down.

“Bitch,” is all she says before launching a kick at my face.

To be Continued in Super Shorts
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