Chapter 2

When I woke up, it felt like my head had been submerged in cement and I was overly aware of the taste of my own mouth. I grabbed the tin of mints that I kept on my desk and popped three in, crunching them while I rifled through my closet. I flipped through my shirts and found that I really should have taken the time to iron them. Eventually, I managed to find a shirt that Cal was kind enough to have ironed for me (it was the only one that he has ever approved of; something about it having neither a completely horrendous pattern or superhero icon) and slipped it on.

I checked myself out in the mirror in the bathroom that was in the hallway outside my room. My dark hair was a little more wild than normal; it had been a while since I had gotten it cut, so the ends in the back had started to reach my neck and curl. I flicked an eye booger out of the crevice of my left eye and stared at them for a second. My eyes were hazel, but only in the right light, such as the bright fluorescents that I had put in the bathroom for the express purpose of proving to social media that, yes, my eyes were hazel. I got lucky with my genes and got a natural metabolism that made me slim without too much effort, but I was also a little short at 5 foot 9. I slapped on my hiking boots that gave me an extra inch and walked to The Vault.

The thing about comic book stores is that, despite what you may have seen on television, not all of them are awesome. Some of them are little hole-in-the-wall places at a mall that barely have any stock, others have employees that don't know anything about comics other than the fact that there are now movies based on them, and some are nothing more than glorified caves. The Vault was different though. The Vault was like Asgard with comics and foosball. It had access to almost every comic published in America (the owner had some serious connections). Even the stuff they had in stock was so glorious that the first time I saw what was held some of the plastic sleeves, I cried. There was a popcorn machine, a reading area with an atmosphere that could put all coffee shops to shame, and even celebrity clientele on occasion. But the real draw was Sam.

Samantha started working at the shop about a year after I first came in, and because I was friends with Duke, the manager of The Vault and nicknamed The Captain (why he didn't take on the nickname The Duke is beyond me), he hooked me up with Sam's work schedule.

Sam was the hot nerd girl who everyone says does not exist except for in the dreams of men. She wore shirts with hero/villain emblems emblazoned on them, had rings that were edgier than a chainsaw, and could flash a smile that made you feel like she was sharing a secret with you. Her hair was always a bright color that reminded me of Ramona Flowers from Scott Pilgrim VS The World.

When I walked into the shop, there were only two other people (I think they were discussing something about Pokemon or Magic or something like that) leaning over one of the plastic tables set off to the side for card games. The store was larger than one would think, the Captain once told me that it was originally two, but he won a decent chunk of cash from a lottery ticket, bought out the shop next door, and knocked down their connecting wall. The walls were all lined with framed posters of heroes, most of which were signed by their creators or actors that had portrayed them. Several bookshelves were spread out through the shop with all of the new releases for the week. The left section of the shop was dedicated to games (board, card, role-playing, etc.), the right had DVDs, and the back, was where the wall of artifacts resided. A collection of nerd memorabilia ranging from an Iron Man helmet actually used in the first film to a sword of Gryffindor. Sam stood as guardian to these wondrous treasures behind the counter, spinning a skull ring on her little finger while she scanned the pages of an open book. She loked up when the bell behind the door alerted her that a customer had walked in, when she saw me she gave a little head bob and said, "'Sup, Jay?"

I tried to give a natural smile, but it felt more like hooks were stringing up the ends of my mouth. "Hey, Sam."

She opened the door that led to the back and said, "Hey, Cap, I'm gonna take my break." She walked around the counter and yanked my arm. "You, come with me."

"Yes, ma'am." Sam pulled me out of the store and into the Starbucks just across the parking lot. She had me grab the coffee while she got us a table, which I was more than thankful for since I didn't want her to know that I hate coffee and bought hot chocolate instead. I was so engrossed in trying to figure out why Sam had dragged me here that I barely heard the barista call my name for the coffee. "So what's this all about?" I said when I sat down.

"Look, I'm just gonna say it, and I know it's gonna sound crazy, but just let me get through the whole thing, okay?"

"Um… yeah, sure… You know that's a terrible cliché, right?" I was really hoping that she was gonna say something along the lines of, 'Look, I really like you and I want us to go out and that's why I brought you to this coffee house without explanation.'

"Look, Jay, there's something we gotta talk about and it's kinda insane."

I furrowed my brow and started spinning my cocoa on the table. "You're really a billionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist who's a superhero on the side?"

I could almost see Sam chewing the inside of her cheek. She gave a look somewhere between annoyed and mildly amused and I made a point to shut my mouth. "Alright, um… you know that dream you had with that chick with the specs in the glass office?"

I could hear some customers whispering loudly as the door to the coffee shop swung.

"You see that guy?"

"What's he wearing?"

"Is there a convention or something?"

Sam was starting to freak me out. It hadn't even been an hour since I had the dream and she just gave remarkable details about it. I considered whether or not I'd be able to run away from her if necessary, a question I really never thought I would have to ponder. "How do you know about that?"

"Because it was real."

I stood up. Or more accurately, I jolted up and nearly knocked my chair back onto the floor. "Well, it's been lovely having coffee with you, Sam, but I really must get home to Cal. He worries you see."

Sam grabbed my wrist and held it in a vice grip. Her hand was warm but sweaty, and despite the hostility implied in the action, I reveled in the fact that we were making physical contact. "She came to me too, Jay. She told me that you were meant to be a part of the team that's supposed to save the world from chaos or some crap." She didn't break eye contact as she said that. Her eyes were hazel, maybe one shade lighter than mine, and had a ring of green around the edge the color of grass at the end of the summer.

"Hey mister, are you a superhero?"

My nerves were firing signals left and right through my body, while I stared into Sam's eyes; whether they were good or bad, I couldn't tell. "What are you talking about, Sam? It was a dream. It couldn't have been real. Well I guess it was real in my head, but that's beside the point."

"Yes, in your head, but no, very real."

"I don't suppose you can prove that?"

A scream splintered whatever coherent thoughts I had and I looked away from Sam and towards the cash register where a man in silver, robotic armor was holding the barista's apron. "I am Stiltman and I shall take over this world! Now that Daredevil and Spiderman aren't in my way, nobody can stop me!"

I couldn't believe my eyes; standing not twenty feet from me was Stiltman. He was wearing his silver mechanical suit that had a mask that covered the upper half of his face. The legs of the suit had circular cuts along them and the top half had, what I could only describe as, an astronauts helmet without the clear visor. He looked just like the most recent rendition of himself in the latest issue of Spiderman. I wanted to reach and poke his suit, ask him about the balance it took to stand at twenty stories tall, and what he would compare getting punched by Spiderman to. And then he grabbed what money he could from the cash register and ran out the door.

I watched the door to the shop slap open and closed until I felt my arm being grabbed as Sam pulled me outside the shop and we started chasing down Stiltman. We were out the door when I heard someone call the police on their phone. Outside, I got further confirmation that the criminal was in fact the Stiltman when I saw him walking thirty feet above my head on the telescoping legs extended from his suit. "Okay, you might be on to something about the whole chaos bit and for the sake of things, let's say I believe you." I peeled my eyes away from the all too intriguing sight of Stiltman doing more harm by stopping traffic than by robbing the thriving coffee shop and looked to Sam. "So what exactly are we supposed to do about him? If memory serves, that guy is packing some serious heat and we're just a couple of really good looking nerds." That was closest to flirting I had ever done.

Sam turned, gave me a smile, and said, "I got this." She started chasing after Stiltman, but just before she turned to run, I could have sworn that I saw a green spark flash across her eyes.

I ran after Sam as soon and helped try to track down one of the weirdest Marvel villains of all time. "You do know that he's probably gonna outwalk us in a few seconds right? I mean the stride on that guy is ridiculous."

"I told you, I got this." Sam took a quick look around and then I watched her put her hands to the side of her head and extended her fingers until they were touching her. Suddenly, Stiltman's suit emitted a flurry of green sparks and he started jerking aggressively.

I kept looking back and forth from Sam to Stiltman and back again. "Um… is that you?"

"You know it."

"What's going on?!" Stiltman's left leg collapsed on itself and he began swaying. I laughed thinking that he reminded me of one of those inflatable balloon men that you'd see outside a car dealership flapping in the wind.

"What are you waiting for? Take him down. Hijacking his suit is actually a bit of a pain." I saw a bead of sweat roll down from Sam's forehead and her hands were shaking just slightly.

"I believe this is the part where I yell, 'Jenga.'" I ran up to Stiltman's only good leg and flying tackled it. The anticipation I felt waiting for the villain to hit the ground was only matched by the satisfying crash that came from his body colliding with the sidewalk. I untangled myself from his leg and brushed myself off, since that's what I had always imagined people doing after they took down a villain. I could hear the sound of police sirens in the distance getting closer. "You think the cops will be able to handle him? You know, it feels so weird to think that trained police officers wouldn't be able to take care of a man whose main weapon is a circus schtick."

Sam lowered her hands turned back towards The Vault. "They should be fine. I shut down his suit and it shouldn't be able to boot up for at least a few hours."

"Great, great… just one thing… how the hell did you do that?!" I flung my hands in the air and felt my guts spasm like a spider on a hot plate. "I mean, that was really cool and everything, but what you just did was like comic book stuff. And what about him?" I said pointing to Stiltman who was out cold. "What the hell is Wilbur-effing-Day doing here? He's fictional! Or at least he was!" I was trying my hardest to calm down, but things tend to get a little confusing when you see the hot girl from the comic book store hack an evil mechanical super suit.

"Jay, I'd be more than happy to answer your questions, but can we do it somewhere else? I really don't wanna have this conversation while cops and the media and who knows who else coming here."

I chewed the inside of my cheek for a moment and grinned at Sam. "I know just the place."