The Green Shadow, Part 1
The cat got stuck in a tree.
Terrific is my original superhero serial. Looking for commentary instead? Check out the navigation page. Otherwise …
Welcome to Olympus City, where super-powers, physics-defying tech, and unearthly creatures are all possible now. Human nature, however, remains unchanged.
No one is born a perfect superhero, but a few strive to live up to the ideal anyway.
Part 1
Miranda was evil today—selfish, amoral, heedless of the needs or feelings of others. All that mattered was what she wanted, and she wanted that dorky guy’s credit card information.
The dork was an easy mark. He had let someone sell him those giant boxy eyeglasses, after all. The hideous lenses cursed him with a perpetual fashion faux pas and branded him a naïve fool. And that haircut.
Miranda got in line behind him, placed her shopping basket on the conveyor belt, and took out her phone. No one would suspect her of anything more than scrolling or killing time. Her petite build, round youthful face, and pleasant demeanor were as good as any halo. She scrolled through her phone and tapped the screen a couple of times, then again as her target dangled his credit card between his fingers while squinting at the card reader’s screen. So naïve.
After swiping the card, he tapped the plastic against the counter as he waited for the transaction to conclude. The cashier thanked him for his purchase.
Miranda studied her phone’s screen and smirked.
“Yes, thank you so much,” she said quietly.
The screen was blank, of course. They’d edit in the images later—crisp pictures of the credit card, zoomed in on all the wrong places.
The director called cut. The cameras turned off. And Miranda renounced her wicked ways.
“I think we got it that time,” the director said. “Nice work, everyone. We’re wrapped.”
Once Miranda changed back into her own clothes, the nameless evil character vanished into oblivion. She had been a fun little paycheck. Her memory would live on for however long the PSA ran.
Miranda exited the climate-controlled fantasy world of the studio and stepped outside into the hot city air, emerging between a music store and a sandwich shop along a busy sidewalk. Sunlight warmed her head and pulled her gaze toward the blue sky. The wispy clouds invited her to join them. Come on up. The air’s fine, they told her.
The dorky guy appeared on the steps behind her, though he left all dorkiness behind the studio’s doors. Without the glasses, Galen had become an entirely different person.
“Well, it was fun being your victim.” He wasn’t an unattractive man by any means, especially now that he stood straighter.
“Yes, and it was a pleasure pretending to steal your credit card.”
Galen got a look in his eye, and Miranda knew what was coming.
“So, I was thinking, now that you’re retired from your life of crime …”
“Or am I?” She put on a pair of large, dark sunglasses. “I don’t know, the fake theft was so thrilling, I might be tempted to strike again.”
Galen smiled, and not without some charm. “I’ll be sure to watch my wallet. Anyway, maybe we could—”
Miranda, too, smiled, a kind and gentle smile that aimed to soften the disappointment. She trusted that Galen was smart enough to take the hint, and she was impressed when he did.
“Well, maybe we’ll work together again sometime,” he said, pivoting smoothly.
“I’d like that. You take care, and I’ll see you around.”
Miranda descended the steps and blended in with the sidewalk traffic. She strolled down another block, then ducked into a narrow alley, one that was reliably empty.
She removed the sunglasses with one hand while the other affixed an emerald domino mask around her eyes, which narrowed as her brown hair turned pure red and her facial features hardened.
In the span of another breath, she switched out of her clothes and into her costume. Emerald tights, scarlet cape, sharp bird-of-prey insignia. Miranda receded as Ultra Woman emerged—selfless, moral, utterly devoted to the welfare of others.
The sky embraced Ultra Woman. The rushing air enveloped her, caressed her, invigorated her. Growing up, Miranda had always liked the concept of swimming but hated the reality. Submerging herself, hiding away in a surreal realm, floating freely—it all sounded great. But Miranda needed to breathe. The sky encouraged her to breathe. Up here, she could fly through an endless aerial sea, inhaling it, savoring it.
She ascended higher, higher, past the clouds. Clouds were such great company. The thrill of soaring among them had yet to fade and likely never would. Miranda could fly up there forever.
But Ultra Woman had work to do. So, she dove off the stratosphere and plummeted back toward Olympus City, wind whipping all around her, exciting her cape to manic fluttering. She had surrendered to gravity, and it was oddly peaceful.
The entire city fit within her field of vision. It looked lovely from afar, tranquil even, a distant and wondrous realm. The Pacific Ocean served as its moat, containing endless possibilities. Miranda had assumed responsibility for protecting the millions of lives within. She encircled those millions within her hands—hands strong enough to protect or, if she wasn’t careful, to destroy.
She returned her arms to her sides and breathed in the fresh, rushing air. The city swelled beneath her, its various structures enlarging into spikes and stakes upon which a person could easily impale themselves. Not her, though. It took a lot to impale her these days.
Details proliferated below—skyscrapers, parks, neighborhoods, roads, and eventually, cars and people.
The curtain was rising. The lights came up. Ultra Woman was on.
Miranda plunged between the buildings and leveled off in a single fluid motion. Slowing down, she swung low over a sidewalk in a busy retail area and received several waves and warm greetings from residents, plus a few astonished utterances from tourists.
For two years she had had these powers. Two years in which flying was an everyday occurrence. Two years of growing accustomed to the formerly impossible. But most of the world had never seen a person fly. It was all still so new, the ultimate novelty, the greatest escape from reality. Miranda loved putting on a show for the tourists. Their delighted expressions, their astonishment—they allowed her, too, to escape reality for a fleeting moment of bliss.
But reality was always waiting. It stood tall along Seventh Avenue, within Olympus City Memorial Park, where an obsidian obelisk identified the names of fifteen people who might still be alive today if Ultra Woman was as perfect as Miranda acted.
Life proceeded normally along the rest of the street, a cozy area full of apartment buildings and small businesses. Walnut trees dotted the sidewalk, a piece of nature freshening up the neighborhood every half a block or so.
A small group of kids had assembled near one tree, which they studied with unusual interest. Each child looked not quite into the double digits, too young to be that serious.
“Hi, kids,” Miranda said, touching down while wearing a cheerful smile. No acting required. She doubted there was any real problem here, but she couldn’t resist the opportunity to brighten the day of the innocent. It was part of the job description. “What seems to be the problem?”
The kids brightened less than expected, concerningly so, almost like there was an actual problem here, maybe even the sort of problem that added names to memorials.
One little girl spoke up. “My cat got stuck in the tree.”
Miranda nearly laughed, but instead released the tension through a wider smile. “I should be able to help out with that. What’s your cat’s name?”
“Felix Sylvester Furball the Second.”
That indeed merited a small chuckle. “I’ll be sure to do right by Felix Sylvester Furball the Second.”
Miranda looked up into the tree but found no cat perched upon its branches, which all seemed oddly hazy. The kids pointed up at the trunk. It looked solid at first glance, but that was merely the mind’s attempt to correct the anomaly. Upon closer inspection, the tree was translucent, like a ghost.
Inside that ghostly trunk, near the top, a befuddled cat clawed and scraped. The animal was barely hanging on to the semi-solid wood.
“Oh, I see what you mean.”
Miranda hoped the tree, not the cat, was responsible for the strange effect. She had once met a super-powered feline. It did not end well, but at least no children were present when she snapped the poor creature’s little jaw and smashed it against the moon rocks.
“Hi there, Felix Sylvester Furball the Second,” she said, floating up to align her face with the cat’s. “Can I call you Felix?”
The cat clung to the ghostly bark, exuding pure irritation at this indignity. Miranda extended a hand, and soothing words coaxed the cat into looking her way. It eyed her skeptically, as though angling to blame her for the defective tree. She inched closer.
“It’s okay. I won’t let the mean tree hurt you.”
Miranda’s fingers brushed against the bark. An electric chill coursed through her.
The cat jumped into her arms and dug its claws into her sleeves. Miranda felt nothing but gentle pressure. A perfectly ordinary housecat.
She descended and handed the pet to its relieved young owner as an audience slowly gathered behind the kids. Several adults, none concerned; they probably hadn’t even noticed the tree’s condition. At least three phones were pointed at her. Miranda hoped she didn’t become a meme.
“There you go. One cat rescued from a tree.”
The girl hugged the cat, the frazzled—but solid—cat. The other kids examined the tree.
“It looks normal now,” one boy said.
It did look normal, nothing ghostly about it. Miranda confirmed it with a touch. As solid as the cat.
Everything was solid. Everything was fine—except that the tree had faded partway out of existence in the first place, thereby raising the question of who or what was responsible.
A raggedy figure passed through the corner of Miranda’s vision, a person cloaked in tattered robes. A green shadow, the same shade as her costume. She blinked, and the figure was already gone.
No, not gone—down the street, lurking behind another tree, hard to see.
“Ultra Woman?” asked the girl holding the cat. “Are you okay?”
The question obligated her to be okay, or at least to put on a convincing performance of someone who was even better than okay.
“Absolutely. Let me go see if any other cats need my help today.”
Miranda flew down the street in a rush of super-speed. The raggedy figure had already moved on from the tree, which remained solid and non-ghostly. She spun around and spotted the Green Shadow in Olympus City Memorial Park.
This shadow—person, entity, whatever the case may be—was still there when she raced into the park. The long robes flowed independent of the breeze. A heavy hood buried the face in darkness. An arm lifted, revealing a skeletal hand.
“Who are you?” Miranda asked.
The bones pointed at the monument. Miranda followed the line, her eyes landing on the smooth stone below the list of names. She turned back for further questioning, but the Green Shadow was gone, leaving her alone in an empty park on a sunny day.
Felix Sylvester Furball the Second. Now, that is a cool cat name. Miranda seems like a lot of fun, as Miranda or Ultra Woman or the credit card thief. This tale pours with adventure, and I love how the tree was no normal tree but a ghostly tree. There's a lot of great mystique weaved into this first entry. I'm wondering about this green shadow and looking forward to future stories. Thank you so much for sharing, Daniel.