There Goes My Hero

Dave, a lonely and somewhat socially inept man, masquerades as a masked crime fighter, waiting for a chance to finally prove himself.

It had been an easy enough task to gain entry into the warehouse. A long row of windows just below roof level opened onto a catwalk well above the main floor. The building was old and the metal catwalk groaned as Dave placed his weight on it. Luckily for him, the people below were too occupied by the other new arrival.

Three hard men watched as a car pulled into the warehouse. A overweight and clearly nervous man emerged from the driver’s side. He was sweating profusely despite the cool chill of the Fall afternoon.

“Emmett?” A female voice broke the silence. The three toughs parted as she emerged from one of the rooms toward the back of the main floor. 

Even from his vantage point, Dave could see the woman was strikingly beautiful. Her dark red hair fell to her shoulder and a toned, athletic figure was clear under her form-fitting attire of jeans and a black sweater.

 

“Yelena.” Emmett said, clearly relieved. “I….”

 

“What the hell is this?” Yelena hissed angrily, cutting off any possible explanation. “What are you doing here, Emmett?”

 

“I had to bring her here.” Emmett tried to explain, panicked. “She was on to me! To us!”

 

“Who?” Yelena asked. Dave could tell she was confused but was smart enough to have a sense of foreboding at what this bumbling idiot might have done.

 

“The reporter! O’Neill!. She confronted me about my involvement in, you know….”

 

The silence hung heavily in the utter stillness of the warehouse. Dave felt a momentary pang of sympathy at the rapid shrivelling of Emmett’s balls.

 

“I didn’t know….”

 

“Shut up Emmett.” Yelena said, making no effort to hide her disgust. “What exactly did you do?”

 

“Well, she was on to me like I said. So, I tricked her to come to my car and as soon as she got there I jumped her and got her bundled into the trunk. Then I came straight here.”

 

With a snap of her fingers, two of the three thugs moved toward the car. The third stayed where he was, content to hold his rifle and look suitably menacing.

 

The thug who opened the trunk to Emmett’s car was met with an angry yell and a hard kick to the chin. He stumbled back, more in surprise and pain as his companion stepped forward. Rachael O’Neill was dragged from the trunk fighting, shouting and letting loose with a string of decidedly unladylike comments

 

“I…I wasn’t followed, I made sure…” Dave heard Emmett stammer.

 

“Shut up, you fool,” came the harsh reproach from Yelena.

 

“Yelena Dytalov.” Rachael said as she was brought forward. Dave noticed with admiration how the reporter lost none of her poise.

 

“Mrs O’Neill.” The response was surprisingly warm.

“Miss,” Rachael corrected.

“Ah yes, of course. My mistake.”

 

“Last I heard you were rotting in a jail cell in Moscow. Times change I guess.” 

 

“Times change indeed. Last I heard you were about to go National. Now you’re working freelance a second rate paper and letting somewhat like Emmett outwit you.”

Dave bristled at the remark on Rachael’s behalf. He had met the reporter the year before and was instantly smitten. A would-be mugger had accosted her outside her office, demanding her purse and watch. Dave had swooped in to save the damsel, breaking the mugger’s arm and giving him a stern lecture about the need to turn his life around. 

Or he would have, had Rachael not disposed of the man handily on her own, courtesy of a swift kick to the testicles. Dave had wanted to help so punched the mugger in the throat as he tried to rise to his knees.

“Thanks, I guess.” Rachael said as her mugger went down gasping for air. If she had been surprised at the sight of a man clad in black body armour and matching mask leaping to her rescue, she gave no indication.

Dave had been sure a clever reply was on the tip of his tongue but he had been stopped short as got his first proper look at his ‘damsel’. She was a few years older than him, somewhere toward her late thirties he had guessed. Her skin was warm and tanned with chestnut brown hair worn loose and falling to her shoulder. Her eyes were dark and intelligent, the kind that would easily crinkle with a smile.

“Just ah, a normal working day. For me, I mean. Ma’am.”

She had smiled, revealing a line of perfect white teeth. “You punch a lot of men in the throat I take it?”

“Have to, ya know….neutralize the threat.”

“Uh huh. Well, good job.” 

She introduced herself as Rachael O’Neill, reporter and blogger. To Dave’s surprise, Rachael had already heard of him. “You’re the guy everyone’s been talking about. The one who calls himself The Hood, right?”

Dave groaned. The first iteration of his costume did indeed have a hood which was instantly relegated to the trash as soon as the name started gaining traction. Despite the wardrobe alteration, the name had stuck, much to Dave’s chagrin.

He had followed her home that night, to make sure she arrived safely. She did but Dave could not be   certain the would-be mugger would not return, looking for revenge. He had since stopped by her house a few nights in the following weeks, ensuring she was not in danger. 

The rational part of his brain told him the mugger would have no idea where she lived and that even if he did, he was going to go after easier targets after Rachael had punted his balls into his stomach. Dave had waved away such thoughts. After all, he reasoned, even if the mugger didn’t return, who was to say she wouldn’t get attacked by some other nefarious individual.

His vigilance had went unrewarded. Apparently Rachael lived a frustratingly normal life without a rapist, home invader or mugger in sight. 

Although Dave didn’t have the good fortune of being able to swoop into action, thereby allowing himself an opportunity to talk Rachael again, he had been able to learn a good deal about her. 

To Dave’s delight, she was single. Well, technically a widow after her husband had wrapped his car around a tree nine years previously. She was a mother of two kids; a girl, around ten years old and a teenage boy who was moody and spent much of his time with the curtains in his room drawn.

A quick online search revealed she had been a regional news reporter at one stage and had turned down a chance to go national, preferring to focus on her children.

More than that, Dave could see she lived in a happy home. Her townhouse was large but bright and warm. Rachael and her children laughed often.. 

Dave knew how badly he had wanted that in his own life. His childhood had been spent in luxury, a massive house surrounded by wealth. But money didn’t keep you warm at night, didn’t hold you or laugh at your jokes.

As the weeks passed, Dave began to imagine himself in the house with Rachael and her family. They would be glad to see him, rushing to meet him as he arrived home. They would have dinner together before retiring to the living room to gather around a roaring fire. Maybe they’d have a dog.

In time, Dave’s visits became less frequent. He had a whole city to protect and Rachael, somewhat selfishly, was keeping herself away from danger. If Dave was honest, he probably took his frustrations out on the bad guys a little too vigorously but no one complained. Apart from the bad guys themselves. And the police. 

 

It had been pure chance when he had spotted Rachael earlier in the afternoon. His first sighting of her in more than a month caused his heart to skip a beat. He had followed from the rooftops until she met with Emmett who, rather unceremoniously, kidnapped her. 

Dave couldn’t believe his luck.

Yelena brought him back from his reminiscing. “Pack it up boys. We’re moving out in two minutes.”

Her three toughs began to gather boxes, piling them into a waiting van.

 

“What will you do with me?” Rachael’s voice didn’t falter but for the the first time Dave felt he could hear the first hint of fear.

 

“I’d hate to pump a bullet into such a pretty head.” Yelena teased, cupping Rachael’s chin.

 

“So you plan in keeping me in suspense instead?”

 

The warehouse’s large metal door rumbled open and Emmett’s car, driven by one of Yelena’s henchmen sped away. A second thug waited in the idling van while the other man went to work spreading a liquid over the warehouse floor and walls.

 

Dave watched as the henchman flicked a burning match into the liquid. The flames rapidly took hold, licking up the walls and spreading along the floor.

 

“Tying up loose ends,” Yelena explained in her thick accent.

 

“I guess I’m one of those ends?”

 

“I’m afraid so, Miss O’Neill.”

With the fire quickly taking hold and the bad guys almost ready to leave, Dave knew it was the perfect time for his dramatic entrance. He vaulted the rail of the catwalk and landed in a crouch a few feet from Yelena and Rachael. He did his best to hide a hiss of pain. He had slightly misjudged the distance of the fall. 

 

Hood?” This time, to Dave’s incredible satisfaction, Rachael was unable to hide her surprise. He ignored the fact the unwanted moniker had stuck.

 

“Miss O’Neill. Are you ok?” In the months since their first meeting Dave had been working hard on the whole vigilante hero shtick. He was a good deal more composed.

 

“Ah, so this is The Hood,” Yelena purred in amusement. “I have heard about your exploits. A real life superhero.” She grabbed Rachael roughly by the wrist and put the reporter between herself and Dave.

Dave held up a finger to cut Yelena off. “Actually, a superhero is an individual blessed with magical or superhuman powers. I’m just extremely well trained.” It was a boast but Dave’s work didn’t come without effort on his part. He saw no harm in educating people into the type of dedication that was required.

 He elected not to mention the benefits of having a massive inheritance in order to fund his training and purchase of necessary gadgets. Some sort of mystique needed to be maintained, after all.

“I am here to bring you to justice,” Dave declared before realising he had absolutely no idea what these people were actually involved in. Still, confidence was key in this game so he thought it better to keep up the front. 

“Not today, I think,” Yelena replied. “Not if you want to get you and your girlfriend here to safety.”

Dave done his best to keep his expression neutral at Yelena’s assumption he and Rachael were romantically involved.  

Still holding tight to the reporter, Yelena, with her free hand, traced her middle finger down the side of Rachael’s neck. She looked up to meet Dave’s gaze. She winked as she smashed the side of her hand into the exact spot she had just traced.

 

Rachael gave a grunt of pain as she fell from Yelana’s grip and slumped to the floor, unconscious.

 

“Sweet dreams,” Yelena mocked, taking time to blow a kiss as she escaped toward the waiting van.

 

Dave rushed to where Rachael lay. A loud crash as part of the ceiling collapsed signified how urgent their situation was.

 

Wasting no time, Dave gently turned Rachael onto her back.Reaching under her arms and legs he scooped her into a cradle carry as if she weighed nothing. He briefly considered using his grappling hook to escape by the way he had come in but as Rachael was out cold and there was no one else to see it, he decided to use the front door.

 

Dave could already hear sirens in the distance as they made it outside. Ducking down a far alleyway he headed toward an old apartment building. 

Now that they were both out of danger, Dave allowed himself to feel the pleasure of the warmth of Rachael’s body against his. Carrying an unconscious damsel from a burning building? This is what he had signed up for.

Reaching the fire escape of the apartment building he shifted her body to over his shoulder and began climbing the ladder. The touch of Rachael’s hands brushing against his back with the motion of the carry was quite enjoyable.

 

Reaching the rooftop, Dave walked to the centre and gently set Rachael on the ground. She was dressed casually, a light jacket and a pair of tight blue jeans that met with Dave’s approval. A large stainless steel Brietling watch was clasped tightly onto her left wrist. The same watch the mugger had tried to take from her the year before.

He gently lifted her left wrist to inspect the watch and was glad to see it had not taken any damage. Another thing Rachael would be grateful for. He let her arm fall across her chest as he leaned in closer. Dave could feel the gentle touch of her warm breath against his skin. He had the urge to steal a kiss, to press her soft lips against his own but resisted. That was a step too far, even for him.

Instead, he brushed a lock of hair from her brow and removing one of his gloves, placed his hand on top of hers. He wanted to reach down and take her into his arms again, to hold her close but a soft groan from Rachael signalled she was coming to.

 Rachael’s eyes opened with a flutter, It took them a few seconds to focus on the figure crouched above her. “Hood,” she said, groggily.

 

“Once again,” Dave stammered. His earlier cool from the warehouse was lost now that he and Rachael were alone.

Rachael didn’t appear to notice as she sat herself up. Dave kept hold of her arm as she rose to her feet. She grimaced as her hand felt for the spot where Yelena had struck her. “Ouch.”

“You ok?”

“I’ve had better mornings,” Rachael replied with a sigh as she watched the warehouse burn. “Morning,” she scoffed as she checked her watch. “That little escapade took up my morning and most of the afternoon. I’ve got a piano recital to attend in less than an hour.”

Dave said nothing, keeping his attention on the warehouse. He had imagined hundreds of scenarios of rescuing Rachael and now that she was in front of him he couldn’t think of a single clever quip.

“I’m sorry,” said Rachael. “I get kidnapped, knocked unconscious and rescued from a fire and don’t even have the courtesy to thank you.” She nodded to the warehouse, “That would have been me if you hadn’t have turned up.”

“I was glad to help.”

“I wondered what happened to you after we met. I kept track as best I could but I hoped I would see you again.”

“Oh?” Dave did his best to keep his heart from soaring. 

“To thank you.”

“Oh.” He realised he was still holding onto her arm and quickly let go.

Rachael tapped the face of her watch. “I need to get going. The day has been dramatic but it doesn’t supercede Mom duty.” She moved toward the ladder but stopped to look Dave over. “Maybe I could help you. I’m a reporter. Maybe I could do a piece on you, as a way to say thanks. Get your name out there.”

“I don’t do this for fame or plaudits,” Dave lied. Fame and plaudits are exactly why Dave did this but it did not seem chivalrous to mention it.

 

“You know where I work. Stop by sometime,” she said, stepping onto the ladder.

“Slow,” Dave said.

Rachael looked up. “Excuse me?”

“That way, I mean,” Dave explained quickly. He fumbled into a pouch on his belt and brought out a device. “Grappling hook. No self respecting hero leaves home without it.”

Rachael smiled. “Ok,” she said with a nod. “I’m game.”

Dave aimed the device down. Three steel hooks shot out, digging into the concrete of the roof. He smiled as Rachael gave a whistle of appreciation. He pulled at the rope attached to the hook, making sure it was secure.

“Grab on,” he said.

Rachael did so, wrapping one arm around Dave’s neck and the other around his back. With his free arm, Dave took hold of Rachael around the waist. Pressed so closely together, he was thankful he made the switch from spandex to body armour much earlier in his career.

The apartment building was only five stories high. Dave wished it was five hundred. They reached the alleyway much too quickly for his liking. 

“Quite the day to tell my kids about,” Rachael said as she let go of Dave.

Dave nodded. “I...uh, I look forward to seeing you again Miss O’Neill.”

She stepped forward. “Call me Rachael.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek before turning and walking toward the alley exit.

Dave waited until she was out of sight before he started dancing in delight.