“Isn’t Galilee one of the only cities that passed a law giving some supers latitude in pursuing criminals?” Marnie asks.
“Yes. It allows certain supers the ability to be deputized as a Marshal to catch other supers,” Justin says.
“And how great that’s been,” I say sarcastically. “We have the biggest concentration of superheroes in the country, and with them comes the biggest number of villains. We also have the highest property insurance and taxes in the world because of all the buildings these people destroy. Not to mention several times a year I have to tell some poor kid their idiot father put some suction cups all over his body and tried to fight crime but instead was shot to death in Diablo’s Ward.”
“Joanna, your prejudice is showing,” Justin chides.
“I’m not prejudiced. People with powers have been around forever, and it’s not like they can help being born like they are. Just because you can run really fast or move a car with your mind doesn’t mean you should put on a costume and beat people up. I’ve just seen the reality and all the lives messed up because people take the law into their own hands instead of leaving it to the trained professionals. It’s gotten worse over the years with the media coverage and fandemonium. Vigilantism is illegal for a reason, and these people just ignore that fact.”
“You’d rather they squander their god-given gift?” Justin asks.
“I’d rather they leave the hero business to those of us trained to do it.”
Justin and Rebecca share an uncomfortable glance, but quickly recover their smiles. “You make some good points,” Rebecca says, “but I personally feel safer knowing there are men like Justice who have the ability to stop others like Stinger. It evens the playing field.”
“Forget it darling,” Justin says, “I’ve been trying to convince her for twenty years that supers aren’t all bad. Even after Justice saved her from Corona she didn’t change her tune.”
“He didn’t save me,” I say, “he just pushed me out of the way when Corona shot out an energy blast. I would have arrested him if Justice hadn’t sped in.”
It was a good bust, the one that got me my spot in Priority. Reginald Fairweather, AKA Corona, was the latest baddie to hit the scene, using his solar flares to burn through buildings. He caught our attention when he used this skill to burn through the mayor’s mansion. After that a task force, which I happened to worm my way onto, went about trying to locate him. Through some of my lowlife connections, and I have quite a few growing up where I did, I tracked down a henchman who led me straight to Corona. SWAT and I stormed in, and I was about to slap the cuffs on him, when Justice super-sped in, distracting me. Corona used that and almost blasted me to hell. After Justice subdued the villain, he handed him over to me. I was arresting officer of record and Justice made sure to let everyone know, including the brass and Mayor. Still don’t like him.
Justice. Everyone’s favorite superhero. Songs have been written about the man, but they seem to forget that villains like Hellion and Alkaline specifically donned their masks in Galilee to prove themselves against one of the foremost superheroes in America, injuring or killing dozens just to get his attention. Maybe if he didn’t make himself so conspicuous with the press conferences, public appearances, cereals, or clothing line things might die down. Sure, all the money goes to the Restoration Society or Victim Assistance, but still. Gauche.
The department considers him a necessary evil. Rebecca’s right about one thing—they do level the playing field. I’m not suicidal—well, anymore—enough to face off against a woman who creates tornados at will or blinds me with a look. I just wish they’d all go away. Even the good ones. They give us false hope that when a mugger approaches, Justice or Olympia will swoop in and save the day. People should know the only person who can really save them is themselves. I learned that at twelve, forty-year-olds should know better.
I didn’t always hate supers. At first I worshiped Justice. His merchandise was all over my room. I’d been obsessed with him since he took down Dr. Phantom and his cyborgs on live TV. Even made a scrapbook of all his clippings. He’d saved thousands of people through the last thirty years, but then two months before Pop died, he just vanished. No word, no warning, nothing. Reports had him in Genevaville or Moscow, but not where he was really needed. When my Pop really needed him. I lost two heroes and my faith all in a month. So yeah, I’m a little prejudiced.
“Well, I like him,” the always chipper Rebecca says. “I think he’s cute.”