The Second Dimension, Part 2

To catch an art thief.

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: Alyssa gave Miranda a tip about a thief who’s planning to strike at a museum this evening—a thief with some unknown power.

Part 2

The sun set, and traffic thinned across Olympus City. Somewhere down there, under the cover of darkness, criminals were seeking out opportunity. If they glanced up, they might have spotted a tiny silhouette streaking through the sky, and if they had any sense, they’d turn around and go straight home. But Miranda tended not to deal with sensible people at this hour.

Perching on the rooftop of the Olympus Museum of History, Miranda watched over the street. Athena Avenue was home to several museums, all of which closed hours earlier. It was just about time for Alyssa’s mystery suspect to show up. Before long, Miranda spotted someone.

A lone figure, clad all in black, lurked outside the Olympus Museum of Fine Arts. This individual, a slender curly-haired woman, peered through the glass front doors and into the lobby. She wasn’t doing anything illegal yet. Perhaps she was merely out for an evening stroll and decided to check the place out for future reference.

The woman lowered herself onto the ground and lay supine. Her whole body melted until she appeared as nothing more than a painting on the pavement. Still not illegal, technically. But then this painting slipped under the doors and disappeared inside.

Miranda dropped down there a second later and looked through the glass. She didn’t see the woman anywhere, just a baby-faced security guard seated behind the information desk, browsing a desktop computer.

A gentle rapping on the glass jerked the guard away from his screen. He stood up, put on a serious face, and marched to the door. His professionalism survived a few whole steps before he realized who stood behind the glass. A goofy grin shaved several years off.

“You’re Ultra Woman!” The heavy doors muffled his voice, but volume compensated. He took out his keys and prepared to open the door, until his professionalism returned from the great beyond. “Wait, you are Ultra Woman, right? Not to sound disrespectful, ma’am, but I’m going to need to see some proof.”

Miranda gestured to her feet as they hovered several inches above the ground, touching nothing. That sufficed, and the guard unlocked the door, failing to dam his grin.

“What can I do for you, Ultra Woman?” He deepened his voice for good measure.

Miranda stepped inside and examined the spacious lobby. No sign of the flattened woman.

“Well, Rick, I noticed a suspicious individual who appeared to pass through the door.”

Astonishment spread across his face. “You know my name?”

“I know everyone’s name—when they wear name tags.” She flashed a warm smile and a wink.

Rick chuckled awkwardly. “Oh. Right. I do have a name tag.”

“Did you notice anything unusual?”

He composed himself, mostly, and put his serious face back on. “No, ma’am. Um, should I have? Some guy passed through the door, you said?”

“A woman. She flattened herself and slid under.”

“I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to assume that a woman couldn’t have passing-through-doors powers. Obviously, with your abilities—”

Miranda gently raised a hand. “I’ll stop you right there. I’m going to check the place out at super-speed and find this person. Do you have any objections to that?”

“No, ma’am.”

Miranda flew through the museum—not at top speed, as she didn’t want to damage anything, but swiftly enough that she found the intruder in under a minute.

The woman in black was no longer flat. She stood in a hall of Renaissance art, admiring Leonardo da Vinci’s Lady with an Ermine, which was on loan to the museum for another week or so. The woman seemed utterly unhurried, like she had all the time in the world and wasn’t doing anything that entailed the slightest risk. Her confidence unnerved Miranda, as did the proximity of numerous irreplaceable works of art.

“The museum’s closed,” Miranda said, floating with arms crossed. “I’d be happy to help you out the door if you require assistance. Or motivation.”

The nonchalance persisted. “I was just about to leave.”

“Well, good. Out you go then.”

The woman stepped into the wall and became a flat image on it, devoid of any depth whatsoever. Seen up close, the effect was eerie; she resembled a living hieroglyphic. Crudely rendered fingers pointed at the da Vinci.

“I’ll be taking this painting with me.” Her mouth lacked the features to properly sync with her speech. It just flapped up and down while sound somehow emerged from an impossibly thin larynx.

Miranda marched up to the wall. “How do you expect to manage that in your current condition?” She refrained from asking if it hurt.

The woman reached toward the bronze frame, and her flat fingers curved over it. The painting melted into the wall, becoming part of the animated hieroglyphic. It was still the Lady with an Ermine, but without any of its original texture.

“Okay, that’s a cute trick.” Miranda pressed her hand against the woman’s shoulder and felt nothing but the wall. “But I assume you’ll eventually want to come out of there.”

“That’s correct. Eventually.”

The thief walked along the wall, carrying the da Vinci, passing over other artwork like a shadow.

Miranda followed. “I’ll be there when you pop out.”

“Sure.”

They turned a corner, walking side by side at a casual pace, only one set of footsteps producing any sound in the empty museum.

“Do you have a fancy name to go along with your fancy act?” Miranda asked.

“I’ve been considering a few options. I think I’ll go with Two-Dee Trudy.”

“You might want to keep considering your options. I’ll just call you Trudy for now, and then the police can figure out your real name.”

“Sure.” Trudy passed over some modern art. “How do you like being a superhero?”

“It’s far more rewarding than a life of crime.” Miranda examined the edge of Trudy’s form, looking for any seams, the slightest protrusion, anything she could work with. Anything at all.

The flat mouth flapped some more. “How do you know? Have you tried a life of crime? You’d be great at it.”

“And you could be a great private investigator or detective. You should give that some thought.”

“Yeah, I could do something like that, but stealing is so much easier and yields higher profits.”

“You probably get less fan art, though. Just today, this little girl gave me this adorable drawing. Made my whole week.” Miranda considered what weaknesses a flat person might have. Did she still need to breathe? How would one deprive a two-dimensional person of oxygen? What would happen if Miranda punched a hole through her image? No, can’t risk that.

“Is that why you do it?” Trudy asked. “So people can adore you?”

“What? No. Of course not.”

“Then why aren’t you a police officer or a soldier?”

“No, no, no. We’re not playing this game. You don’t get to judge me when you’re stealing a priceless artifact.”

“It’s not priceless. It’s been appraised with a specific, rather substantial value.”

They neared the lobby. Rick hustled toward Miranda.

“Police are on their way. Did you find her?”

Miranda gestured at the woman in the wall. “This is her right here. Don’t worry. I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

The flattened Ermine set Rick on the verge of panic. “Is that the da Vinci?”

Trudy sauntered along the edge of the lobby. Even without depth, she conveyed supreme confidence. “It is. I won’t be returning it.”

“Um, Ultra Woman?”

“I’m on it!” Am I really, though?

Miranda had no plan other than to wait for Trudy to do something different. It hardly seemed heroic, let alone super-heroic. Worse was the doubt in Rick’s eyes as he grappled with the conundrum of a thief strolling off with artwork … and Ultra Woman walking right there beside her and somehow not stopping the crime.

Trudy approached the gift shop enclosed within glass walls.

“You have the keys?” Miranda asked.

Rick nodded and rushed ahead to unlock the shop’s door.

“By all means,” Trudy said, “follow me inside.”

Trudy passed through the glass and into the shop, then slid behind the merchandise and shelving fixtures. Miranda dashed inside and watched the form peek through collectible statuettes as it slithered toward the back. Spotting the closed stockroom door ahead, Miranda motioned for Rick to open it.

“It was nice meeting you, Ultra Woman,” Trudy said, approaching the stockroom. “Maybe we can continue chatting at my next heist.”

“Oh, no. You are not getting away.”

“Okay.”

Trudy and the painting slipped under the stockroom door. Miranda rushed inside, into darkness. She barked at Rick to get the lights. He complied at once.

Fluorescent lights revealed a long, narrow room densely packed with boxes stacked on high shelves, obscuring the walls behind. Turning on the speed, Miranda moved the boxes out of the way, piling them into the shop until the stockroom was clear.

No Trudy.

But there was an exit.

Miranda pushed through the door and surveyed the loading dock, which was well lit around the door but dark beyond. She scoured the area, but it was already too late.

Rick stuck his head out the door, bright and hopeful. “Did you get her?”

“She … got away.”

His face dropped. “But … you’re Ultra Woman.”

She tried to be, but tonight she failed.

*****

Miranda spent the rest of the evening searching for Trudy. She thwarted a few other crimes along the way but never found the two-dimensional woman. Faint sunlight peeked through the buildings, calling time on last night’s failure. The new day hadn’t officially started yet, though.

Returning home only long enough to switch into civilian clothing, Miranda flew back out and selected a bench at random. She just needed a moment to think, to consider where else she might look.

It really was a job for Fantastic Man. In his light form, he could scour the city at lightspeed and slip through any crack, no matter how narrow. Miranda was merely fast and, presently, exhausted.

Would be nice to have him back.

The city was so quiet now. This was perhaps the single quietest hour of the day, and one she didn’t often witness.

Her cell phone toned and vibrated. A text from Carey. “Good news! Nabbed your art thief. Da Vinci’s back in the museum. Other loot returned too. 2D Trudy in jail. Thanks for the intel!”

So it was, apparently, a job for the Golden Gladiator.

Miranda understood that stopping Trudy and returning the art were the main goals, regardless of who achieved them. Nevertheless, this particular resolution left her disquieted. If Fantastic Man were here and had caught the thief instead, she would have considered it teamwork. But Carey, the perfect superhero from a perfect world … Miranda felt cheated, felt like she had cheated.

The security guard’s disappointment remained vivid in her memory.

“You waiting on coffee?”

Miranda spun around to the voice’s source—a young, pretty woman about her age, dressed as a barista. Miranda realized she had selected a bench directly in front of a coffee shop. Mug Shots, specifically. She hadn’t stopped in there since the earliest days of Ultra Woman.

“No, just out for some fresh air,” Miranda said. “Sorry, didn’t mean to loiter.”

“It’s all good. Usually anyone on that bench is waiting for me to open up. No sales pitch here, though. Carry on.”

The barista started to turn away, then seemed to notice something and turned back.

“Where do I know you from?”

The question always gave Miranda a start, until she remembered the more likely answer. “Ice Screamer Fairy.”

The barista winced, as though embarrassed it didn’t click right away. “Ohh, that’s it. Congratulations. That alone makes you far more successful an actress than I ever was.”

Miranda hardly felt successful, but she figured this woman didn’t want to hear it. “It’s a tough business for sure.”

“For real. That’s why I’m out. Had enough bad experiences to take the hint. So now I manage this place. Honestly, it was kind of liberating to just let it all go.” She made a motion like she was flinging away a loaded garbage bag.

Yeah, probably would be, Miranda thought, feeling a tinge of envy. But she couldn’t ever imagine a life without acting. “You’re smarter than I am.”

“Well, I keep trying to think that, at least. But hey, just give me a minute to open up, and then I’ll treat you to a cup of coffee. Let me live vicariously through the adventures of the Ice Screamer Fairy.”

“It’s a deal. I’m Miranda, by the way.”

“Charlotte. Nice to meet you.”

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Next: Return to Hades