It was 10:00 at night on a rainy Sunday in April. Novus city was a garden of lights and reflections. The water-slicked streets were like an oil spill, shining with colors borrowed from flashing billboards and car headlights. The tops of skyscrapers were buried in the low clouds like swords in the underbelly of a giant beast.
On the wet sidewalks, people were hurrying home from work. Draped like ghosts in plastic rain slickers, they dodged and weaved across the pavement, a hundred people with a hundred destinations, each single-mindedly fording the river of humanity that made up the jugular vein of this city of ten million.
Litter and wet leaves were kicked into the gutter, sodden cigarette butts were trodden underfoot. People shouted and cursed, cars rushed by, and the light rail roared and hissed on it’s elevated tracks, like a serpent weaving its way through a jungle of concrete. The cacophony of the city was indistinguishable from the thunder of the storm. Creation imitating nature.
It was beautiful, from a distance, in the way an atom bomb is beautiful if you’re far enough away. Ten million people, together but so separate, and each one as chaotic on the inside as their surroundings. Irreducible complexity.
The roof of the skyscraper was brightly lit in cotton-candy colors, an advertisement mounted on a billboard behind me selling soda with incandescent sex. A half-naked woman cradled a can of carbonated chemicals, seducing the entire city with her eyes. She popped the tab and took a sip over and over again, the same mysterious smile on a loop.
I watched the advertisement repeat itself a few times before turning my attention to the city. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’m any different from the girl on the billboard.
Sure, I called myself a hero, but everyone knows the age of great superheroes swooping in and saving the day are over. I was nothing more than a glorified mascot, a symbol meant to “encourage civic pride” a coded way of saying “keep the current administration in office at all costs.”
The ridiculous costume I wore was a constant reminder of that. A sleeveless bodysuit with a high neck and a cutout back, the synthetic material clung to every curve, giving me a hell of a wedgie in the process. Mesh paneling in the legs allowed cold rain to slide down into my impractically high-heeled boots. To top it off, the whole getup was made up of garish purple and white paneling, conveniently matching the mayor’s re-election campaign colors.
I pulled my canary yellow mask up over my mouth and nose, and shook out my mane of sand-colored curls. For the hundredth time, I wished for a hair elastic.
The yellow M in the middle of my chest was made of reflective fabric. M for Moxie. It was the only thing about my ensemble I liked. No matter what else, my sponsors had at least let me pick my own code name.
I looked out at the city, and practiced my speech in a whisper, the raucous sounds of the city drowning out my words.
“Justice, truth, and valor, for the protection of the good and upstanding people of this city.”
It was a good speech, or so I had been told. The mayor had put his best speechwriter on the job.
“All you have to do is make it convincing,” he’d said as he slid the sheaf of papers across the desk.
Behind me, the woman on the billboard took a sip of her soda for the umpteenth time.
My earpiece crackled to life. It was the mayor’s greasy-haired assistant, Bates.
“Moxie, this is Delta Base. Do you copy?”
“Copy. I’m in position,” I replied. Short and to the point. I wanted to get this over with as fast as possible.
My earpiece popped with static. “Excellent, Moxie. They’re coming this way. Are you ready to engage?”
“I’m ready. Let’s do this.”
“Okay then, remember the plan. Take care of the problem, look good, and make sure there’s lot’s of witnesses.”
“I know,” I replied, frustrated, “you’ve told me a thousand times.”
He ignored me, and went on explaining what I already knew. “Don’t jump until you here the sirens. The news crew won’t be far behind.”
“I know.”
I could see them, in the distance. An armored car, hurtling down the avenue with it’s back doors swinging open. Gunfire sparked in its wake.
Police cars were in pursuit but they were too far behind, a block, no, two blocks away. Their wailing sirens sounded thin and reedy in the distance. They’d never catch up. I drew my knives and gripped them so hard my fists shook.
Bates on the earpiece again, “If this goes well, Moxie, we can discuss payment options.”
“Good.” This had to go well.
As though he’d read my mind, Bates continued, “I understand you’re in quite a desperate situation.”
Shut the fuck up, I thought but didn’t say. “Is it time yet?” I asked instead.
“Almost. And Maisie?”
Using my real name was never a good sign. “Yes?”
“Don’t mess this up,” his tone was it’s own threat. “The mayor has a lot riding on this.”
Through gritted teeth I replied. “So. Do. I.”
And with that, I jumped off the roof into the night.
Behind me, my fellow advertisement sipped her soda and smiled after me.
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