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I’m dying to check in with Max to see what he’s discovered about the depowering machine but Crimson calls me just before I get home.
“We have a lead on Mara Moone,” she says, sending GPS coordinates to my BEEPR while she talks. “Meet me in five.”
The thrill of possibly finding one of the missing Supers almost makes up for my disappointment about delaying my talk with Max. I follow Crimson’s coordinates to a middle class residential wing on the outskirts of Central. Most Supers in King City live underground near Central in these residential neighborhoods. Sometimes the humans complain that we “isolate” ourselves from their species by living underground in the Grand Canyon. But most of the humans (and Supers) prefer it this way.
I recognize the address as the same one from Mara’s files. “What’s going on?” I ask Crimson. “Haven’t we already searched her house?”
“Not well enough.” Crimson holds up a clue the size of a gum wrapper. It is a gum wrapper. I turn it over and read the words handwritten in purple ink: Club Night Wing.
It’s underlined several times in what must have been hard pressed because two of the lines rip into the paper. “What is it?”
“I found it folded into a tiny square and shoved under Mara’s mattress in her bed frame. I researched Club Night Wing and get this--” Crimson taps her BEEPR to mine and a holograph from a website hovers above our faces. I read the tag line under the club’s logo: Club Night Wing is an exclusive hangout for Super-born humans. We accept all species, even if you don’t accept yourself.
“Super-born humans..?” I look to Crimson for an explanation. If they covered this in school, I must have forgotten it. And Supers don’t forget anything.
She shrugs. “I researched it before I called you up here. It’s like a support group for Supers who feel like they should have been born a human instead of one of us. This was in Mara’s room and it’s her handwriting. Maybe she’s been planning to run away for a while. These people might know.”
I scroll through the holograph website trying to absorb as much information as I can. I’ve never even heard of something like this. I thought all Supers loved being a Super. I know I do. My finger hovers in the air over a part of the website. “Well that’s not rude or anything,” I say, pointing to the part in bolded red letters.
No Heroes allowed.
Crimson nods. “I know. How are we going to gain access and ask them about Mara if they’re clearly prejudiced against Heroes?”
“Are you kidding me? We’re going to gain access by walking up to it and opening the door. We’re Heroes and we’ll do whatever the hell we want, especially in regards to finding a minor.”
Crimson’s lips squish to the side of her mouth. “I like the way you think.”
“Someone needs to have an evil thinking ability around here,” I say as I enter the club’s location on my BEEPR. “I’m glad it’s me.”
Contrary to what its name alludes, Club Night Wing isn’t a wild party spot. It’s also not a club. Not in the nightclub sense, anyway. Crimson and I slip into King City’s Public Library unnoticed by everyone except the elderly librarian behind the front counter. She just glances at us through her thick glasses and then turns her attention back toward the Solitaire game o
n her computer screen. The look on her faces seems more like she thinks we’re just a couple of weird cosplaying teenagers and not real Super Heroes. The back of the library has conference rooms and various meeting rooms.
Meeting room three has a dry erase board on the door.
Junk food and Journaling - Mondays, 4PM
Club Night Wing- Tuesday & Thursday + all Super holidays
Crimson glances at her BEEPR. “Good thing it’s Tuesday.”
I push open the heavy wooden door, readying myself for conflict for when they see us dressed in full Hero attire. My enthusiasm for a fight slips away just as soon as I see the room--a circle of empty chairs and a boring maroon rug on the floor.
“Um.” The meek sound comes from a girl sitting cross-legged in the corner of the room, laptop in front of her on the floor. She can’t be more than sixteen years old but her blonde pixie cut hair means she’s not Mara. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Hero Maci Might and this is Hero Crimson Carlow. Are you a member of Club Night Wing?”
She swallows. Nods. Locks her computer screen.
“We’re not here to cause any harm,” Crimson says, walking over to the girl. I swallow back my annoyance and follow. “We’re looking for Mara Moone. It’s an official Hero mission, so I need you to comply. Have you seen her?”
The girl shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”
I pull up the holograph of Mara and set it on the floor, eye level with the girl. “Look familiar?” I ask as the three dimensional projection slowly turns around the holo-disk. Again she says no. Her power fizzles like a flashlight with dying batteries. She has no superior abilities and it’s as if she’s limited her natural-born Super abilities as much as possible. “Why don’t you want to be a Super?” I ask, unable to contain my curiosity.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Crimson says. I roll my eyes but I don’t complain. Our mission is more important than me questioning a troubled teen on why she hates her species. Crimson gives me a sideways glance and I know she’s about to pull a fast one. “Mara’s gone missing and her parents are worried. Are you sure you don’t have any information?”
Mara’s parents are dead and she wasn’t too fond of her foster family. If this girl knows Mara at all, she’ll react as such. Crimson and I lean in, studying the girl’s face. She doesn’t even flinch. “Sorry. I don’t know her.”
