The Green Shadow, Part 2
Someone in her eye.
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.
Previously: After Miranda rescued a cat from a ghostly tree, a mysterious cloaked figure appeared in the corner of her eye. This Green Shadow led her to Olympus City Memorial Park, then vanished.
Part 2
The shark had tentacles. Eight tentacles. Like an octopus. Legs too, like a person. But it was a shark. A hammerhead shark.
Miranda didn’t know why the shark had tentacles or how it had swelled to the size of a three-story building or what compelled it to menace the parking lot of a big-box department store. These were important questions that deserved answers, but one was most pressing.
Did a shark turn into a monster or did a person turn into a shark monster?
She was responding to reports of a disturbance at Wheeler’s. It had sounded like a robbery, but the shark didn’t appear to be robbing anything. The shark was, however, chomping the air in the general direction of panicked customers. The sight of the giant pavement-based shark alarmed everyone as they rushed out of the store. The teeth kept missing them by a wide margin, but that was hardly less frightening for all involved. Miranda wasn’t inclined to take any chances on the matter.
Her first thought was to shoot herself as a bullet straight into the monster’s thick hide, but not knowing the extent of its monstrous nature, she instead targeted a tentacle. Dragging this thing into the ocean might buy her enough time to learn more, or to allow Carey or someone else to study it.
As the shark eyed a family of four who were scrambling toward their car, Miranda accelerated.
But then a green spot appeared against the flailing tentacle. A raggedy green spot.
Miranda swerved away at the last second, and the shark lunged toward its prey. She dipped back down and drove her elbow into its eye, distracting the beast long enough for the family to run clear.
The shark leveled its elongated head at Miranda. She met those far-apart eyes and curled her finger up, summoning the great beast.
“Here, boy.”
It charged at her, jaws wide open. Miranda slid backward as the shark chomped down on empty air, at which point she realized the monster had no odor. This massive creature from the sea didn’t stink. Its skin appeared a bit too rubbery. And it hadn’t caused any property damage.
The shark spun around and targeted more shoppers, who all suddenly floated out of harm’s way.
Ken hovered over the parking lot. The wind animated his gray cape as well as his dark hair. Miranda was still getting used to seeing Mr. Amazing in action without the mask. He tensed his hands at the shark, no doubt unleashing his telekinetic force, but the shark simply continued biting the air and scaring people off.
“My power isn’t affecting it,” he said as Miranda zipped over to his side. “Is this a shark monster or a person who turned into a shark monster?”
Ken thrust his hands more aggressively at the shark, to no effect. That confirmed Miranda’s suspicions.
“It’s an illusion.”
Or supplied more evidence, at any rate.
“I think,” she added.
“You think?”
Miranda shrugged. “Bust me out if I’m wrong.”
The shark bared its jaws at her. She flew into those jaws—no, not into anything, because there was no shark there, tentacled or otherwise. If she expected to feel something, her brain might well convince her she felt it. Assuring herself there was no shark, she flew straight out its back.
Ken floated beside Miranda as the shark impotently lashed its tentacles through them.
“Theories on the source of the illusion?” he asked.
“Got an educated guess or two.”
Miranda turned to the doors as the last few customers rushed out, shivering and hugging themselves for warmth.
“Don’t mind the shark,” she told them. “It can’t hurt you.”
They hustled toward their vehicles anyway.
Ken gestured at the doors as he opened them telekinetically, and they sailed into a frozen winter wasteland. Ice encased everything—all merchandise, every mannequin, each cash register, not a single endcap spared.
And yet the burly men in top hats and domino masks had no difficulty opening the registers. Their hands passed through the ice, as did the bills.
Ken had shivered upon entering, but he shook it off and waved his hands at the henchmen, levitating all five with a thought while their bags of cash dropped to the floor.
Miranda picked out their leader—the string bean in the tux. He, too, wore a domino mask, though his long curly mustache and pointy goatee rendered it null and void. He looked like a stage magician, which Miranda guessed was intentional.
She zipped over and hoisted him by his collar while floating at the height of a step stool.
“Hi there,” she said. “The illusions are yours, I take it?”
“Correct, Ultra Woman. I call myself the Magician.”
“Yes, that was among my top three guesses. Impeccable tuxedo, by the way. I’d really hate to scuff it up.”
“Don’t worry.” He flashed an amused smile, then disappeared from her grasp as a finger tapped her shoulder. The Magician was standing behind her now. “You won’t get the chance.” He multiplied into a dozen of himself. “Not unless you can find me,” they all said.
The Magicians surrounded her, but the aftershave wafted from a single direction. Miranda grabbed that one’s arm and squeezed lightly. The duplicates vanished as the real Magician let out a pitiful cry. The ice evaporated in an instant.
“How—?”
Miranda gave her most innocent shrug. “Lucky guesser.”
The Green Shadow lurked beside a clothing rack. The tattered robes flowed and waved as if they were underwater.
“And cut out that green ghoul while you’re at it,” Miranda said.
The Magician’s theatricality gave way to genuine confusion. “Green what?”
A hidden face gazed at Miranda from deep within the shadowy hood as the specter lingered.
“Nothing,” she said. “Let’s not keep your ride waiting.”
Several police vehicles had pulled into the parking lot, which was no longer menaced by a fake shark monster. Ken telekinetically restrained each henchman’s arms until the officers placed physical handcuffs on them, and the Magician entered police custody while upside down, dangling by his ankle as Miranda flew him over.
Shoppers and employees filtered back into the store while a crowd lingered outside. A reporter approached the two superheroes; the well-groomed man was too young to appear distinguished, so he had to settle for photogenic. He addressed Ken as “Mr. Shield.” This prompted a subtle flinch from Miranda, which she hid behind her Ultra Woman smile.
It was nice to see Ken smiling as Mr. Amazing, something his full-face mask had prevented until he ditched it recently. Less nice was the burn scar on his cheek, a remnant of a difficult battle against the Terran last month. Miranda had known Ken Shield half their lives and had never seen him more comfortable in his own skin. But his comfort was not total. Doubts persisted; he had expressed them to her in private, and she was powerless to alleviate them. After all, she had not followed his lead.
The reporter finally got around to asking the dreaded question after establishing the basic facts about the Magician’s robbery.
“Ultra Woman, any plans to tell the world who you really are?”
“Who I really am?” Miranda evaded with charm. “I really am Ultra Woman.”
“It’s true,” Ken said. “She is one hundred percent Ultra Woman.”
The reporter had enough sense not to push it further. He squeezed in one more question, a request for comment about the Golden Gladiator Corps; Carey had announced the initiative just last week and was actively screening candidates. As Miranda issued the obligatory supportive comment, a flash of green caught her eye.
The Green Shadow stood at the far end of the parking lot, just watching, distant enough that Miranda could easily ignore the apparition.
So, she did.
*****
The Aeschylus Theatre had selected The Importance of Being Earnest as part of its next season, and auditions were underway. A classic farce was just what Miranda needed to get back into the swing of live theatre.
She arrived early, after giving both Ken and Carey a heads-up that she’d be unavailable for an hour or so this evening. She felt guilty about potentially needing more evenings off. What if disaster struck right before curtain? Well, that’s what understudies were for, and the Golden Gladiator Corps might even make decent ones.
Auditions were in the small black-box theater beneath the mainstage. Miranda descended a staircase into the basement, where an assistant handed her photocopied pages of the script. A few familiar faces were also auditioning, so Miranda said hello to them, then situated herself in a quiet corner and read over her lines.
She contemplated each sentence and each word, exploring various approaches without getting too attached to any, knowing she needed to maintain the flexibility to react to whatever her scene partner did. Miranda was told to read for Cecily, a character she knew she could pull off.
Her turn came up right on time. She was called into the theater with an actor named Ben, whom she had seen do good work in a couple of shows. She trusted they could play off each other well.
Pages in hand, they stepped onto the blank performance space and turned toward a set of risers. The bright stage lights embraced her. Her breathing steadied.
The director, Evelyn, had steadfastly encouraged Miranda to return to live theatre and kept hinting that this might be a good one to audition for. She sat midway up the risers, notepad at the ready, and beamed down at them.
“Miranda, Ben, so good to see you both. Thank you for coming out. With this production, we’re going to do something a little different—a gender-reversed Earnest. So, Ben, you’re going to read for Cecily, and Miranda, please read for Algernon.”
Miranda didn’t understand why they couldn’t have mentioned that up front. If Evelyn wanted to see how they responded to curveballs, there were other ways to go about it that didn’t involve wasting people’s time. This curveball had stolen precious minutes from Ultra Woman.
Smile affixed, Miranda prepared to jump through the hoop without complaint. She was Algernon now. So be it.
She scanned her lines, reading at super-speed without realizing it. A quick pang of guilt struck. The movement of her eyes was subtle enough that no one seemed to notice, but it felt like cheating.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Evelyn said.
The first line was Miranda’s. She saw her way into the scene, turned to Ben, and was about to speak.
The Green Shadow appeared at the corner of the stage. The dark hood turned toward Miranda.
What the hell does it want?
No, not it, Miranda realized. Those tattered robes contained a person, or the remains of a person.
Evelyn and Ben said nothing as they waited for Miranda to start. Ben was poised to jump in if necessary while Evelyn sat in judgment—either wondering what unexpected brilliance this unorthodox pause would reveal or, more likely, beginning to reconsider her faith in Miranda.
Miranda decided to get on with the scene and worry later. She glanced at her line and opened her mouth.
The Green Shadow stood closer now and extended a cloaked arm toward her. Miranda thought she saw eyes deep within the hood. The air chilled.
“Miranda?” Evelyn called out. “Everything okay?”
Miranda whipped up a smile and launched into the scene. She got through it without further interruption. All she did was get through it. She gave a competent line reading and didn’t screw up Ben’s chances, but the presence of the Green Shadow purged all sense of life, energy, and dynamism from her performance.
On the bright side, she didn’t have to worry about how she’d juggle rehearsals and Ultra Woman duties, because there was no way she was getting this part.