An older woman in the group snapped out of her shocked daze.
“Yes. We’ve got it.”
She started directing those around her to help the staff put the sidewalk dining to rights. Stardust left her to it, moving on to see if anyone had been seriously hurt. Thankfully, there were only a few people with minor injuries and no one with anything major. Mostly scrapped palms and knees from falling on the sidewalk or cuts from broken glass. The rampagers hadn’t seemed set on personal harm, only destruction of property.
Stardust made his way back over to Naked Guy, who was still out cold in the middle of the street. Frost walked up at the same time, leading the two rampagers they’d been tasked with subduing, both with their wrists restrained in manacles made of ice. Neither of them struggled, but they shivered violently, teeth chattering, lips nearly blue from cold. Cold wind and icy vapor swirled around Frost as they looked down at Stardust’s felled opponent.
“Should we try to dress him?”
“Pffft.Ididn’t tell him to take his pants off. That’s on him. Besides, he’ll get a nice orange jumpsuit to wear when he’s booked at the county jail.” Stardust crossed his arms over his chest, fingertips tapping his bicep. “But I suppose I should get him out of the middle of the street.”
“It’s what a hero should do.”
Stardust cut his friend a quick side-eye. Frost didn’t react, either because they were sincere, or because they were trying to get Stardust’s goat. It was hard to tell with them sometimes.
Stardust rolled the man back over to his front then bent down to thump him on the forehead and wake him up. His powers didn’t include super strength, so he wasn’t about to drag this hefty bastard up onto the sidewalk. After a second forehead thump, the man came to yelling, cursing, and straining to get free. Unfortunately for him, the cuffs around his wrists were made to hold enhanced strength individuals, which meant, even hopped up on Croton, he wasn’t getting loose.
“Hear those sirens? That’s the police coming to get you. You’d better get out of the street if you don’t want them to run you over.” At Stardust’s warning, the man sat up, scooting backward on his naked rear end across the concrete until he reached the curb. Stardust followed to make sure he didn’t try to make a run for it as the sirens grew closer.
The approaching sirens were also the cue for Stardust and his crew to get out of there. Their group didn’t have any type of official working relationship with police, and could be charged with vigilantism.
Sonica popped in, dusting off her hands as if she’d just finished a tough job. “Already dropped mine off at the police station. We’ve done all we can do here. Let’s go.”
“You’re right,” Stardust agreed. “I’ll see you two back at the firehouse.”
Sonica nodded and put her hand on Frost’s shoulder to teleport them both away.
Stardust jogged up the street to where he’d left his motorcycle. Throwing a leg over the sleek black machine, he started it up, the bike roaring to life with a throaty rumble. He pulled out of the space and took off, zipping through the city streets, the air rushing over him, whipping the tail of his heavy braid of hair back and forth. The mask he wore identified him as Stardust, while hiding his true identity from everyone he passed.
As he approached his destination, he turned right and sped down a side street. Up ahead was the brick wall of a dead-end alley. Stardust headed straight for it. When it seemed as if he would crash, the wall rippled and he passed through without incident. The “dead end” was a mirage, a visual barrier created to hide the headquarters of the Arch City Guardians—the group of heroes who’d banded together to protect the citizens of St. Louis. As an extra precaution against unwanted visitors, if you got too close to the mirage, a sonic alarm went off. Unless you were wearing the tech that muted the alarm, you’d be hit with the extremely unpleasant sensation of what felt like several giant mosquitos buzzing at the back of your skull. The sound was too high-pitched for regular humans to realize they were hearing anything, but the uncomfortable sonic vibrations made people instinctively turn around to avoid them nonetheless.
Past the barriers, Stardust pulled into the small parking lot next to their headquarters, killed the engine and hopped off his bike. The headquarters was an old firehouse, decommissioned nearly a decade ago, and recently purchased to serve as the center for the newly created superhero team. Constructed from tan brick with white stone accents, the building was longer than it was tall. Multiple satellites and electronic towers were mounted on the roof. Thanks to Bulldozer, a member of the ACG team, the grounds were in immaculate condition, with mature greenery, and not a single crack in the driveway. The two wide fire truck doors were down, so Stardust entered through the pedestrian door.
Inside, where firetrucks were once parked, two men sat at a U-shaped trio of tables that held a multitude of computers, monitors, and other tech equipment. The younger of the two men sat directly in front of the largest computer screen in the center, the overhead lights shining on his bright blue hair, while the older was off to the side, typing onto the electronic pad he held. Frost and Sonica were already there, sitting in two of the club chairs set up in front of the command center.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Stardust said as he took off his mask and plopped down on one of the three remaining chairs.
Caleb spoke up first, brushing the blue strands of hair back from his forehead. “More Croton freaks. But you guys stopped them before they could do too much damage or seriously hurt anyone.”
Strong gave an approving nod. “Nice work.”
“Thanks.”
“Blaze is going to be furious when he hears what happened. He fought so hard to keep that drug from hitting the streets.”
They started discussing the drug that was steadily taking over the city. Caleb brought up a map of the city on one of the big viewing monitors to highlight areas where Croton incidents seemed to be the most widespread when an alarm went off, signaling that someone was approaching their headquarters. They all turned to look at the outside camera feed on one of Caleb’s giant monitors. A dark SUV was driving down the street at a steady pace, headed straight for the barrier.
Stardust frowned in confusion. “What are they doing? Shouldn’t they have turned back by now?”
“They’re invited and were told to signaling continue past the auditory defense line,” Strong answered.
Stardust and the others settled back into their chairs at Strong’s announcement that the person approaching was expected. The conversation switched to a mundane discussion of the weather while they waited for Strong’s guest to arrive. They heard the faint sound of a truck door closing, then a few seconds later, the front door opened. Stardust looked back over his shoulder to get a look at their visitor.
A Caucasian man walked in, tall, broad in the chest, thick in the thighs, biceps bulging beneath the thin material of a forest-green, long-sleeved T-shirt. He had dark brown hair cut short with a neat side part. His jawline was firm and clean-shaven, a perfect fit to his strong nose and sharp, bright green eyes. But his mouth... Stardust stared a second too long at full lips with a pronounced Cupid’s bow—a spot of softness in that otherwise hard face.
“Who’s the beefcake?” Stardust faux whispered.
He didn’t get an answer, but when the mystery man walked up to Strong to shake hands, Stardust immediately recognized the similarities in their precise bearing and movements. This guy was military too.
