Weaver's Knight ~ A Modern Fantasy Web Serial

Ch. 9.1 - Powerstar (double-sized anniversary issue)

{Editor's note: The original version of this chapter has a sidebar with a link to an explanation of our "guest hero," Powerstar. It's not really necessary for readers of Weaver's Knight, but it does provide a little more backstory to the setting.}

In this episode: Double-sized anniversary spectacular! When Los Angeles' secret superhero faces his arch-nemesis, it's fireworks of every sort as the entire hidden world catches up with him at once!

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John Wilson stood on a rooftop high above Los Angeles. He wore a blue-and-silver costume that clung to his skin and made him look just a touch wider and more muscular than he was. The cowl covered his head from the nose up, and the cape flowed idly at his back. Both were a vivid royal blue that nonetheless concealed him well in the dark, when John didn't want to be seen. Twilight hadn't set the city to shining in the night, but he knew it wouldn't be long.

Of course, even if I do want to be seen, people will rationalize me away if I do anything 'impossible,' he mused, feeling a touch irritated.

*...he thought for the hundredth time,* Heather Wing, his fiancé, noted in his mind. *John, what we have is special. You can't just wave your hand and fix whatever's broken in most people.*

*I know,* he sent back, still frustrated. *Still, we healed you. There has to be a way.* He gestured, and a flicker of static electricity played around his fingertips. Far below, two cars about to merge into one another swerved apart at the last moment.

*Go save some lives, hero,* Heather sent back, impish grin appearing in John's mind without the need for telepathy. *We can save the world later.*

How much later? John wondered, but he kept the thought to himself. Heather didn't pry, sending a kiss instead. Then John Wilson took a deep breath, sheathed his body in a faint aura of blue distortion, and flew over the city, becoming Powerstar in mind as well as body.

*Who are we after today?* Heather asked, following him with one mental track as another switched songs at KXNX, readying her DJ spiel for the coming break.

Powerstar frowned inwardly. *The White Herald,* he replied evenly. Heather's response was a wordless pulse of sympathy. It felt like the Platonic ideal of a hug. *Yeah. After two years of doing this, there's still no one worse. He's got to be behind the recent spike of Vortex activity. Martinez playing nice is bad enough, but when Harkin is behaving himself, I worry.*

Heather paused. Powerstar made a fist, and a mugger dropped his gun. It fell down a sewer grating, where the Empowered hero turned it into a paperweight. *You've never talked much about the Vortex things,* Heather noted gently. *They're basically horror gods, right?*

Powerstar came to a halt over an intersection of back alleys. *That's how the Herald sells them, but I'm not buying.* He watched, sensing nothing unusual - the gang fight he broke up with a sudden sprinkler outburst was, sadly, all too routine - and clenched his teeth.

*Yeah, my humanist honey isn't going to get into the whole 'cosmic horror' thing,* Heather quipped. *I'm guessing they're not dead gods that lie dreaming.*

Letting the frown reach his face, Powerstar descended, the buildings shielding him from casual sight. Lengthening shadows wrapped around him as he drew the cape over the silver highlights in his uniform. *I don't think so. Still, after the big one Herald summoned...it's hard to be completely sure.* He glanced around, halting his descent only a story up. *I'll never buy into the idea that we're some aberration, that ideas like honor and freedom and love are delusions. Thing is, even the grunts, the 'Vortex Spawn,' are like hate incarnate. It radiates off them in waves.*