Blog of an Internet Traveller

Doth Protect Too Much

The night was warm, the air thick and heavy, a thunderstorm certainly on the books for later. But, for the moment, all that mattered to Justice Girl was the room full of men, all sweating below her as the muggy heat clung around them.

She was hiding in the rafters. The men below were armed. She’d been there for twenty minutes.

It had started out so simply; a robbery, tracking the culprits, finding their hideout. It was fun! Times had been rough, so she’d been excited to dole out some justice for a change. But then she found those bloody Apocalypto masks in their hideout. She saw them, her heart skyrocketed, then the far door opened and she’d sprung into the rafters like a startled cat.

It was getting ridiculous. She knew her trauma with the current host of Dark Dragon, Janice Cobalt; the blasted woman had kidnapped her when she was eight years old. But now, somehow, that same trauma was spreading over her life like rot, and had transposed itself onto everything Dark Dragon related, even the Apocalypto Cult! She couldn’t even look at those damned masks without seeing Cobalt’s icy glare and freezing up.

And it was getting really inconvenient. The cult were taking over the city, gang by gang, territory by criminal territory, and she, Justice Girl, one of the stronger heroes available, couldn’t do jack about it!

Well, at least these idiots weren’t smart enough to look up.

Floating above the beams, staring down, and sweating because the air-con didn’t reach this high, she had sent a message for help. She hated asking, and didn’t know who might respond, but it couldn’t possibly be worse than this.

Below, one of the goons gently tilted in his seat. He leaned back. He looked up.

“What the hell?”

“Crap.”

A few things happened all at once. First, guns were raised. Second, Justice Girl let gravity take her. She landed amongst the grunts, shutting her eyes to not see the masks, and used her mind powers to lift a sofa, sweeping it across the room. Most of the cultists didn’t see it coming. Neither did she. In its path, she clotheslined herself with the heavy furniture, crashing to the floor.

What followed was a bit of a blind melee, literally on Justice Girl’s part. Eyes shut, she swung wildly at any noise. It seemed to work, one punch being enough to knock anyone down, and by her aural estimate there were soon only two cultists still standing.

A gun went off.

Justice Girl flinched, coiling into a ball. She waited to see if she was dead, but found she wasn’t. She wasn’t even hit. She peeked one eye open.

Deputy Dangerous had arrived, in his multicoloured cowboy outfit. Not exactly stealthy, red coat and trousers with a green shirt, all worn despite the heat. His hat was a pale blue, his bandanna mask pink, while the little visible of his face peered out between them. And currently, he was wrestling with the last goon, holding him in a headlock… which wasn’t working. Deputy wasn’t the burliest hero, and the cultist was clawing at his arms.

“Little help?” the Deputy grunted.

Justice Girl, with one fist, walked over and bopped the cultist on the head. Out he went.

“Thanks,” the Deputy sighed, brushing himself off.

“Nice hat,” Justice Girl said, a genuine compliment, helping the Deputy up. “Blue looks good on you.”

“You think so? Thought I’d express myself a little,” he chirped.

“Well it… expresses nicely,” she fumbled. “Anyway, thanks for the save.”

“Surprised you couldn’t handle it yourself.” He looked around at the carnage.

“Couldn’t handle it?” Justice Girl squeaked. “Can’t a gal call a friend to help her from time to time?”

The Deputy gave her a look, one that doubted, but didn’t press further. “Okay, I came out of my way to help you. Would you mind helping me in return?”

“It’s not more Apocalypto stuff, is it?” she worried.

“Nope. Some of Battering Sam’s guys are on a roof about a mile away, trying to rig up a pirate TV station. It’s for evil workouts or something?” he said vaguely. “Tell you the truth, I didn’t really listen to Sanctimony’s briefing, but there’s goons to stop. Will you help?”

“Sure. I can fight Battering Sam,” Justice Girl said, with subdued relief. “I can fight him all day. Remember when you guys fought him years ago?”

“I was just a sidekick back then,” Deputy recalled. “And you defeated him.”

“Well, me and Stealth Watcher, but you dealt with the henchmen,” Justice Girl said modestly. She’d just been a sidekick herself, technically, watching the Sidekicks Club, and hijinks had ensued. But she’d impressed them that day, and after that they’d listened to her more. She missed those days. It was so much easier back then.

“Justice Girl?” the Deputy waved a hand before her face.

“Oh, sorry,” she snapped back to reality. “Do you need a lift there, Deputy?”

“What? Me? I do have my dignity!” Deputy puffed up. “I don’t need you to carry… I mean, I can… Oh, damn it, yes, I do,” he gave in. “Time is of the essence.”

“Then brace yourself and let’s go!” She swept him up in both arms, Deputy yelping, as she carried him bridal style into the sky. It was either that or a piggyback.

The rooftop was easy to find, as there were currently a dozen crooks on it rigging up a satellite dish. All dressed in gym clothes, some had added luchador masks for the look of the thing, but the air of the rooftop, even atop the heat, was thick with machismo and sweat. Also, cheap deodorant.

“I hope you’ve got a TV license!” Justice Girl quipped as they set down. Not her best material. She released Deputy Dangerous from her arms, and he stood awkwardly, stretching and wincing. “My joke wasn’t that bad was it?” she asked.

“No worries, just cramps. They happen.” He rubbed his abdomen.

“Aww, is baby injured?” one of the goons teased. “Is baby aching?”

“Is the henchman stupid?” Justice Girl countered sourly.

“Wow,” a second goon said, offended. “This girl hero’s just mean, Justice Growl.”

“She’s certainly angry,” the first replied. “Think it’s her time of the month?”

“Or his!” the second goon pointed to the Deputy, the soul of whit. Both fell into hysterics.

“And what would you know about it, morons?” Deputy snipped.

“Um… what would you know, Deputy?” Justice Girl countered.

“I‘ve… known girls,” Deputy said hotly. “These men are just toxic!”

Goon Two wiped a tear from his eye. “More of a man than you- HURGK!”

The goon was cut off as Deputy Dangerous shot him in the face. The bullet exploded into yellow goop, surrounding his head like gelatine. The man fell to his knees, clawing at it.

“Oh hell,” Justice Girl admired, otherwise unbothered. “Is he going to be alright?”

Deputy reloaded the chamber. “Don’t worry. I’m assured it’s non-lethal.”

“By who? And how non-lethal are we talking?”

“Non-lethal enough that-”

“ATTACK!” a goon yelled. The entire mob descended on them.

The fight wasn’t hard, not really. Deputy had guns, Justice Girl had superstrength and telekinesis, and the goons, they had crowbars and hammers. Basically, it was very one sided. The goons that didn’t run got punched by Justice Girl, or twirled through the air by her telekinesis, or both. The rest got caught by goop rounds from Deputy Dangerous, the two heroes cutting the numbers down from a dozen to less than four in under a minute.

One thug made a mad dash for Dangerous, as the Deputy raised guns. His cylinders clicked empty. Franticly, he tried to reload, but the thug reached him first, a meaty fist catching the young man right in the chest.

“OW! Right in the boob!”

“Pardon, Deputy?” Justice Girl said, subconsciously raising her arms to shield her own rather larger targets.

“Sorry, just slipped out. But I’m dandy,” Deputy wheezed, stumbling back.

“How’s this for dandy?” the thug crowed, and planted the toe of his sneaker right in the fork of the kid’s legs.

“Oooh!” winced every man on the roof.

“Owwww!” Deputy squeaked, collapsing into a ball. “Right in the saddle padding.”

“DEPUTY!” Justice Girl yelled, and restraint went out the window. She’d been toying with the goon so far, letting off steam, but one swing of an arm clotheslined three men at once. The last man, the crotch kicker, stood armed with a knife. He waved it, almost hypnotically.

“You looking for a cut of the fun, love?” the kicker hissed, twirling the blade.

“Don’t call me love,” Justice Girl sneered, planning which bones to break.

“Aha, I’ll call you whatever I-” the kicker grinned, before his smile vanished. There was a crack like wood, he went pale and his eyes crossed. He whimpered, then folded, Deputy’s spurred boot retreating from between his legs.

“Turnabout’s… fair play,” Deputy panted, wobbling on his feet. “Good job… distracting him.”

“Um… sure,” Justice Girl stared. “Are you okay, Deputy? Like, seriously okay?” she worried. “I once saw Wandering Foot hit himself there with a pair of nunchucks, and he was on the floor for the afternoon. Didn’t that hurt?”

“Hit himself where?” Deputy wheezed. Then his eyes flared. “OH!” He crossed his legs. “No! I mean, it’s nothing. I mean, I wear a cup. A strong one. Like… bulletproof. Because I’m a cowboy. Yeah.”

“Really?” Justice Girl looked doubtful. But, however it happened, the Deputy was still standing. Balls of steel, perhaps? Or at least brass ones. The Deputy winced as he tied up the henchmen with his lasso. With the last pull of his rope, he hissed in pain through his teeth.

“Seriously? Are you hurt?” Justice Girl asked. “You know, more than the obvious.” She pointed to his groin.

“Just sore.” He rubbed his chest. “Got punched. Feeling sensitive today.”

“Sensitive? Is it your ribs? Let me take a look.”

“NO!” Deputy leapt back like he’d been stung. “Just… I’m really shy about my body. Yep, that’s it. And it’s just a bruise, I’m sure. I mean, I’ve got protection there too.” He tapped his chest, which sounded like leather. Something tight. Did cowboy’s wear body armour?

“If you’re sure?” Justice Girl moved on. “Now, we should let Sanctimony know we’ve dealt with this. I’ll photograph it and send it-” She reached for her phone. “Oh, crap!”

“What?”

“The cultists from before broke my phone. It’s nearly cracked in two!” She held up the shattered device. “That’s the third one this year.”

“I’ll do it,” Deputy pulled out his mobile, snapping a photo of the goons, all bundled together with the spool of lasso. One even smiled. “Now, how do I send this?” he murmured.

Justice Girl came up to his shoulder. “Just use the hero app.”

“I don’t really use the app much. Not anymore. Just need to find the photo,” he muttered.

Justice Girl snooped over his shoulder, as he scrolled through various photos; landscapes, his outfit on a hook, him and his former boss Gun Shooter posing, a photo of a young woman with brown ringlets and full makeup-

“Oh, there’s a pretty face,” Justice Girl cooed.

“Thanks, I really did look good that day. Too bad it was just for school.”

“Yeah too…” she paused. “Pardon, Deputy?”

Despite the heat, the air abruptly froze. Deputy Dangerous froze too, staring ahead like a rabbit in headlights. Justice Girl looked on, sensing the tension, but not entirely sure why. Was that really a photo of him? It wasn’t unheard of, heroic disguises and all, and he’d always been lean for his age, but he clearly hadn’t meant to say it. Not to her, at least.

Either way, now he was shaking, staring ahead, waiting for some boot to drop. Justice Girl could feel it; this was suddenly very important. A defining moment. She had to be careful, though she still wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Deputy?” she began, treading the dangerous waters. “Are you… a woman?”

It was like stepping off a dock and the boat not being there. She knew it was wrong the moment she said it. The slight narrowing of Deputy’s eyes told her.

“No, I am not,” the Deputy said firmly. “I am a man, Justice Girl.” There were tiny tears in his eyes. “Definitely a man.”

Justice Girl’s heart sank. “Sorry, with the photo, I just didn’t mean-” She stopped. The penny had been in the air, when it suddenly landed with a clang. “Oh! Wait! Are you-”

“Don’t say it! Not in front of the evil henchmen!” Deputy ordered.

“But are you… you know?” she said anyway.

Deputy Dangerous’s cheeks reddened behind his bandanna. “I am a male superhero, thank you very much, Justice Girl,” he said sharply. “That’s all that matters.”

“But you’re saying you’re really-”

“SHHH!”

“HA!” one of the villainous goons erupted, apparently still conscious. “Really? So you’re just dressed as a man, are you, girlie?” he sneered. “Hear that, boys? We were beaten up by two girls!” he laughed to his colleagues, most of whom weren’t conscious.

Justice Girl winced. She’d thought the goon out cold; her mistake. And it was the crotch kicker too, grinning evilly, which somehow made it worse.

The Deputy stood, eyes like knives, blushing like a beat. Suddenly, he span, and from the hip fired another goop round right at the kicker’s head. The goon collapsed, still tied up.

“I am a man,” Deputy stressed, voice quaking. Then something broke in him. “Damn it, and I was doing so well today!” he whined. “I thought I was covering myself just fine, even this time of the month, even with that kick to the crotch! I mean, that hurt!” He adjusted his nether regions, and something slipped. It crept down his pant leg, like a hubcap from a crash, and the bundle of socks rolled out of his trousers, leaving his groin considerably flatter. The Deputy’s face went crimson. “I’ve got to go,” he said, voice cracking, as he grabbed the socks and ran for the fire escape.

“Deputy, wait!” Justice Girl called after him, but he was gone, and she couldn’t leave the henchmen. Thinking to herself, she double checked their bonds, and punched the crotch kicker one last time, before handing the group to the cops, her brain buzzing all the while.

And she’d never got that photo for Sanctimony either.

* * *

Beth stared at the unanswered message.

“You okay?” it said. The chat was otherwise empty.

She’d come home and knew she had to do something. She had to be supportive, at the very least. This was a complicated issue, and she had to support her friend. The only problem, she wasn’t really sure how to be supportive. To her embarrassment, she’d never actually met a trans person before.

Correction, her brain piped up; you’ve actually known a trans person for years. Start there.

This was true. She’d known Deputy Dangerous since he was a sidekick, with her double checking that “He” was the right pronoun there. But yes, he’d always been a boy. Meanwhile she, and she took the moment to double check her own pronouns too, had never noticed anything to signal otherwise. Okay, his outfit was always a bit baggy, and maybe his voice sometimes forgot to break, but he was young, and that happened to young men, right?

The question intermingled with the embarrassed young man she’d seen on the roof, who’d seemed so upset. She couldn’t blame him though. He’d just unwillingly been outed; not a nice feeling, or so she’d heard. He had to be stressing, worrying what she would tell someone. He had to be so scared, surely. But, she could at least sympathise there, feeling scared. She was scared most days currently. But the Deputy had to be feeling so lonely too, right? Getting by on fake smiles and reassurances? Just dreading going out and facing the eyes of people? People who cared so much, but couldn’t understand, and the people who hated you, and didn’t care to learn. The person who hated her so-

NO! This was about him! Not about her! This was about Deputy Dangerous.

Beth breathed and unclenched her hands, releasing the dread thoughts. She’d left dents in her desk with her fingers, in the solid wood. She took slow breaths until her heart settled. She was in her bedroom, and she was fine. She was safe. Safe and sound. Safe. And. Sound.

Deputy Dangerous wasn’t though. He needed help. Needed her help. She had to help him, because that was right, right? And she needed that photo for Sanctimony, though that was a minor concern. But she needed to help her friend. She would help him, and then everything would be fine in the world!

Right?

A glass of water cracked, as her rampant telekinesis squeezed it. She breathed and pushed that rogue part down, as if she could control it. But she was fine. She was safe and fine.

She needed to help the Deputy, and to do that she needed to contact him. Unfortunately, her message was going unanswered, and she didn’t want to send more, not with Goody-Two-Shoes moderating the app so vigilantly. She would have to find the Deputy the old fashioned way.

He only patrolled a few nights a week, she knew, non-consecutive usually, and he’d been out last night. That meant she’d have to find him outside of that too. Out of costume. A big taboo, but this was alright, wasn’t it? They were friends and friends learned each other’s secret identities all the time. Ask for forgiveness, not permission, she thought. But it wouldn’t be easy, finding his secret identity. They were secret. There was one person who could get her started though, surely… and another person who could find her that first person. It was practically solved already!

“Dad?” she said, finding her father washing the dishes. “Do you have Gun Shooter’s number?”

* * *

Her father hadn’t taken much persuading, even if he did ask why she wanted to see the old cowboy. The all purpose answer “It’s a little private” with the additional, “It involves Deputy Dangerous” seemed to cover everything, though as they flew she realised her dad may have got the wrong idea. He’d awkwardly asked if she was “late”, to which she’d answered there wasn’t any hurry, and now he seemed to be stealing glances around her belly. Definitely the wrong idea.

They arrived at The Corral, the hideout of Gun Shooter himself, situated in a feed loft of a fake barn, all part of a tourist trap on the city limits. There was a large plastic cow with a sign advertising “The Biggest Steak You’ll Ever Eat!”, a restaurant full of rather large customers built between the cow’s legs. The folks were too busy eating to notice the two heroes enter the barn.

“Howdy!” Gun Shooter greeted, adorned in his silver cowboy outfit. “Welcome, Justices.”

His hideout had all the usual hallmarks; a weapons rack, a small gym, an entire stack of ammo of many different types, and the standard issue massive computer, though his was strangely painted in cow print, complete with horns. There was also hay everywhere.

“So, what brings you to the Corral today?” he said, pronouncing the capital letter.

“My daughter needs to locate Deputy Dangerous,” Justice Man said. “Have you seen him?”

“Haven’t rightly,” Shooter said, playing up the Texan accent. You’d never believe he was Canadian. “Deputy’s been busy past couple weeks. He’s got heroics of his own now, since we’ve gone our separate ways, two lone rangers. Though, we do meet up on occasion, considering he still operates out of here.”

“He doesn’t have his own hideout yet?” Justice Man queried.

“Nope. No one really stepped in to fill the void after Cosmo got busted,” Shooter sighed. “I mean, one company did, led by Justin Mann himself, but I’ve got to say the service isn’t as good. They set me up here, and to put it simply, the amenities are lacking.”

“Is that why it smells of cow dung?” Beth asked, wrinkling her nose.

“I would assume so,” Shooter confirmed. “I think the hay might be pre-used. That Justin Mann is a piece of work.”

Shooter paused, seeing if Justice Man would react to this. There were still theories that him and Justin Mann were one and the same, but Justice Man just nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, my girl hasn’t got one yet either. She works out of our home,” he said happily.

“Huh,” Shooter said, filing this as evidence against the Justin Mann theory.

Beth didn’t comment. She didn’t like Uncle Justin either, and wasn’t going to defend him.

“Anyway,” Shooter got back on track, “Why do you need the Deputy? Something up?”

“It’s personal,” Justice Man said, in that edged way that showed it worried him.

“I just need to talk to him,” Justice Girl explained. “It’s private, and I really shouldn’t be telling anyone but him.”

Gun Shooter suddenly shared Justice Man’s worry. He looked Justice Girl up and down, stopping briefly on her stomach too. “Private and personal?” he quavered.

Justice Man nodded grimly, not saying a word. He did mime a large belly though.

“And, to be clear, I am not pregnant!” Beth added caustically.

Both Justice Man and Gun Shooter sighed with relief. They almost fell against each other, Gun Shooter wiping his brow. Beth glared, but she did note Gun Shooter’s concern. He clearly wasn’t in the know that Deputy Dangerous wasn’t the impregnating sort.

“With that said,” she tried to pull them back, “do you have any idea how I can find him? It’s important.”

“How important are we talking?” Shooter asked.

“Probably really important to him, and I think he’ll be very scared and confused. But it’s also really private, so I can’t explain why. Please, I just need some help.”

“Really?” Shooter raised an eyebrow. “The Deputy can usually handle things. He might be a young man, but he can fight when he needs to. You sure he needs you poking around?”

“I need to help him!” she snapped. There was a purple glow and a horn snapped off the computer, embedding in the far wall. “Please,” she added, as the older heroes unclenched.

“Are… we talking secret identities here?” Shooter asked warily.

“I think so. I know it’s a challenge, and morally complex, but I need to know,” she said.

“You do seem serious, but I don’t think I can help,” the cowboy replied unhappily.

“Please, I just need to speak to him-”

“No, it’s not that I don’t want to,” he assured. “Would that I could, truth be told, but I don’t actually know the Deputy’s identity myself.”

“You don’t?” Justice Man said, puzzled. “But he was your sidekick, wasn’t he?”

“True enough, but he never told me his real name,” Shooter said.

“Never?” Justice Man failed to believe. “Then how did you recruit him? He can’t have just turned up in costume and gone ‘Hi, I’m your new sidekick’, cap in hand?”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly like that, but…” Gun Shooter shrank.

“Kirk…” Justice Man sighed disappointedly.

“What did happen?” Beth asked.

“Well, it was more than a decade ago,” Shooter began. “I was trying to revitalise my image, thought I was getting unpopular, so Wandering Fist got me in touch with some TV executive types. They organised a TV show for me, one of those talent contest type things with me as a judge. So You Think You Can Sidekick, it was called."

Beth stared. “And Deputy was one of the contestants?”

“Yep. One of the finalists,” Shooter nodded. “Problem was, with one thing and another, the show never came together. With everyone needing secret identities, but still being interviewed for drama, and then there were the child labour people, and then there were the people worried about kids using guns, which are my whole schtick-” He twirled his revolvers- “the lawyers eventually got involved and the show never went out. But, it did get to the last round, a top five, and the Deputy was the only one whose parents didn’t try to sue me,” he said proudly. “He was an impressive cowboy though. I’ve never regretted my choice, not once.”

“And he never told you his name?”

“I never asked. Thought it was up to him. Which is why I ask again; Is this really that important?”

“I think so,” Beth said, her insides twisting. She needed to find him. She needed to help.

“Okay then, but how do you suggest we go about it?” Shooter asked.

Justice Girl thought a moment. A lightbulb went on. “Do you still have the paperwork for Do You Think You Can Sidekick?”

“I do!” Shooter recalled. “In fact, for the releases and all that, I have all the sidekick’s real names. Only problem, I don’t know which one is the Deputy. There were twelve of them, and I’ve looked it over once or twice over the years, but I’ve never been sure.”

“We can at least look.”

Shooter searched through a heap of papers in the corner, under some hay. Being a super wasn’t really a paperwork heavy job, but it still turned up thanks to Sanctimony. He eventually fished out a sheaf of paper, all stapled together, brushing off a few straws.

“Here we go.” He handed it over. “Good luck.”

It was a number of contracts, with the names of all the participants ticked off on the front page. As Shooter had said though, there was no connection to their super identities, just twelve names with their signatures beside, and then contact details such as addresses and schools as necessary. Probably, they’d had to ask for time off for the show. Many of the signatures were rather juvenile, block capitals, while a couple were perfect looping cursive. Beth could only guess some private school kids got in too, their parents paying for their best chances to be a super. But none of the names stood out, fancy or otherwise.

“Damn. No clues,” she muttered irately.

“Told you,” Shooter said. “It’s a mystery.”

“I do have an idea,” Justice Man said. This caused a pause for his daughter and his friend. Justice Man wasn’t a fool, but he wasn’t really the smartest, so ideas were rare that didn’t involve punching. They were usually worth listening to though.

“Yep, J.M?” Shooter allowed.

“I heard of someone recently, a hero called Destiny,” he began, thinking aloud. “Destiny doesn’t have any powers, not really, but I hear he’s very good at spotting secret identities.”

“You think we should ask him?”

“No, because I’ve heard he does it by looking out for nominative determinism. You know, the thing where your name is strangely fitting for your job?” he described slowly.

“Is that a thing?”

“For a lot of us, yes,” Justice Man confirmed. “I mean, I’m aware there is a commonly held theory concerning my name, right?” He looked to Shooter, who nodded slowly. “Burno is James Crisper, Melody Planker was Chorus, and if you don’t mind me saying, Gun Shooter, your real name is Kirk Kablammo.”

“It’s Canadian, my family worked in munitions… and I see your point,” Kirk agreed. “But there isn’t anything like Deputy on that list.”

“But,” Justice Girl piped up, “he wouldn’t have been going by Deputy back then, would he? He started out as Kid Dangerous.”

She looked back to the list, scanning down from the top. And there, four names down, was one that stood out.

“I think I see him,” Justice Girl smiled. “Kit Dan’rous?” she read out. It sounded French, or possibly French Canadian. A perfect sidekick for Gun Shooter.

“Kit? Isn’t that short for Kitty or Katherine?” Shooter wondered.

“It can be a boy’s name too. Like that car in that show,” she recalled defensively.

“Alright,” Gun Shooter nodded. “But are you still sure about this?”

“I’m sure I can find him,” Justice Girl said, taking a quick photo of the address with her new phone. “Look, I appreciate the help, but I should do this alone. He’ll tell you in time, if he wants to. Understand?”

“And, whatever this is, it has to be you?” Gun Shooter said.

“I need to be the one to help him,” Beth said flatly. The two older heroes exchanged a look.

“Honey, are you alright?” her dad asked. “You seem a bit… fixated on this.”

“You’re finding out a hero’s secret identity,” Shooter added.

“It’s fine,” she said bluntly. “Look, I just want to help him. It’s fine. Now, I’ve got the address, so I’ll see you later. Love you, Dad.” She gave him a quick hug and then left, flying off on her own. The two other heroes watched her go.

“Is she doing alright? With all this Cobalt stuff?” Shooter guessed.

“It does seem to have her a little out of sorts,” Justice Man confirmed.

“And Deputy Dangerous is involved?”

“Who knows?” Justice Man shrugged. “I think she just needs to see this through.”

Gun Shooter couldn’t argue, so instead asked for Justice Man’s help repairing the fake horns on his massive computer.

* * *

Oliver Perks Highschool was not the best school in the city, but it managed to situate itself in one of the older surviving buildings. Having used to be a hospital, it looked closer to a boarding school than a standard public one; A brown stone façade, three floors, and a decent grounds rather than just a tarmacked yard to play in, but it also took in a lot of students to fill the space, taking kids from the neighbouring five boroughs. As such, it was both immensely overcrowded and equally underfunded. They barely had enough to spruce up the brickwork each year.

It was also the old stomping grounds for Beth. She’d spent years here, taking classes, spending time with her friends, every school day for most of a decade. And god, had she been glad to leave. College had been bliss by comparison. Children were cruel and she had been chubby, and with how passionate she was about certain super figures, she had been given the all-purpose label of “Freak”. Those had not been good years.

She wandered the grounds, not so old to look out of place, but ready with a story if anyone asked. She knew she’d need to look carefully though, as while she’d seen a photo, the Deputy could look like anyone. Any man, anyone, anywhere. She just needed to find-

Oh.

She’d just been about to ask someone, when she’d spotted him… if “Him” was even applicable here? He looked precisely like the photo she’d seen; A young woman, brown ringlets all around her head, almost bronze skin, dark freckles, and full lips that didn’t even require lipstick to stand out. She, or he, or maybe they, was dressed in a school uniform, green sweater with a grey-black leg-length dress and shiny shoes. They were moving with a crowd of other kids their age, before they stopped to check something on their phone.

Well, she’d come this far, Beth told herself.

She hurried close, with a smile that aimed for reassuring. It landed on strained.

“Hi there,” she greeted.

Kit looked up, puzzled. “Hi?”

“Sorry, but you probably don’t recognise me-”

“I don’t,” Kit said, edging away.

“We have met though. I just need to speak with you… about certain things,” she said coyly.

Kit’s hand went to a pocket. Beth guessed it contained mace. She didn’t wait to find out.

“We do know each other. I can explain when it’s… Just Us,” she said, playing the words meaningfully.

“What?” Kit’s hand got closer to the mace.

“Just Us,” Beth repeated slowly. The hand got closer to the pocket. Beth rolled her eyes. “Oh, screw it. It’s me, Justice Girl!” she whispered through gritted teeth.

Kit’s hand stopped, eyes wide. There was obviously some consideration whether still to use the mace. Kit decided no, even as the shock morphed into an angry twitch that warned of coming storms.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Kit hissed back.

“Kitty?” one of Kit’s friends came up. “What’s the matter? Who’s this?” a teen girl sneered, like they would at an old person. Beth suppressed annoyance. She was only mid-twenties.

“I’m Beth,” she said helpfully. “I’m-”

“She’s from my night job,” Kit said quickly. “You know how busy I get, with all that cleaning I do. Cleaning up the city,” he said proudly. “Beth here is one of my superiors.”

“And she’s here at your school?” the classmate doubted. “That’s weird, girl.”

“Seems like it,” Kit said, heat simmering behind those words. “Don’t know why yet, but I need to talk with her. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

“Alright. Shout if she’s a creep or something,” the classmate smiled and left, giving Beth one last sour glance.

The moment they’d moved on, Kit’s arm found Beth’s, gripped it like a vice, and dragged her into an alley out of sight.

“What! The! HELL!” Kit snarled.

“Sorry, I just thought you seemed distressed when I last saw you. You know, with what you said and all?” Beth said softly. Kit was gripping her arm quite hard.

“Yes, I was a bit upset!” he stressed. “I wasn’t at my best, not a good time for me, and I’d just been hit in the chest and the crotch. I’ll tell you, that isn’t fun, no matter your gender! And then I made a stupid mistake and outed myself to you! Stupid!”

“But you can trust me,” Beth affirmed. “I won’t tell a soul if you don’t want me to.”

“I’d hope not!” Kit’s face furrowed. “But how did you even find me? Because this is like, several layers of Not Okay, Justice… uh…” Kit paused.

“Beth. You can call me Beth.”

“Thank you, Beth. This is not okay!” he almost yelled.

“Look, you seemed like a girl in… sorry, a boy in need.” She looked at the feminine appearance in front of her. “Sorry, can I ask, what should I be calling you right now?”

Kit glowered, but relented with an eye roll. “When you’re around me here? Call me a girl,  they/them if you absolutely have to. No one here knows that side of me yet!"

"No one?"

"My parents aren’t exactly progressive and my classmates are mostly well-off internet brats, so they think trans people are those weirdos everyone keeps complaining about going into bathrooms. I’d rather not expose myself to their ridicule, as of yet,” he said pointedly.

“That’s… so sad,” Beth realised. “You can’t even be yourself at home?”

“I can be myself on the rooftops wearing a mask! But I don’t need you, messing things-”

“What do we have here?” said a deep, unpleasant voice. It had undertones of bully before you even saw the speaker. Beth clenched her fists, years of similar bullies twanging in her brain. Her mind heard enemy. It heard Dark Dragon, which shot up her spine like a jolt. But Kit just sighed, which lessened the panic.

“What do you want, Brad?” Kit said with unveiled disdain.

“What are you two girls doing back here? Being lesbians or something?” Brad drawled.

“That’s so sweet, Brad,” Kit said with baffling faux-sweetness. “You think I’m pretty enough that she’d be into me?”

 Brad paused to process this. He was a big, young man, the type that absolutely screamed quarterback, with all the muscles and cauliflower ears that came with it. You could almost hear the gears as he tried to understand the remark.

“Ha! Gay!” he said at last, taking a safe bet in a classic.

Kit shook her head. “A loser says Huh?”

“Huh?”

“Exactly.”

Again, there was the pause. Kit rolled their… no, her eyes at him. It was Her while Brad was around, right? Kit sighed. “Let’s go. He’ll be thinking about that one for a minute.”

Kit led them on down the alley and out into a grassy area on the far side. It was mostly quiet, but even so they slipped behind a tree to keep talking.

“Look, I appreciate the worry, Beth, but I don’t need looking after.”

“You do need help though,” Beth argued. “You need support. You must feel so lonely and afraid, living like this?"

"Are you sure you’re talking about me?” Kit countered, eyes penetrating. “I’m not afraid of people like Brad, and while yes, I wish things were otherwise, I’m not particularly lonely. I mean, someone around here does know about me.”

“They do?”

“Well… Trevor does,” they confessed, their tone confessing this to be underwhelming. “He’s one of my classmates. He knows I’m Deputy Dangerous, at least.”

“But what about the trans thing!” Beth stressed.

“What? Oh, that,” Kit understood. “He’s actually a bit awkward on that point, honestly. He’s fine with me being a superhero, but wearing boy’s clothing? That kind of baffles him.”

“You said your parents don’t know either,” Beth said, her tone aching with concern. “Kit, even Gun Shooter doesn’t know.”

Kit’s eyes flared. “You told him!”

“No!” Beth backpedalled. “I asked him for help, but I didn’t tell him a thing. At worst, he thinks we’re a couple or something like that. So does my dad.”

“I cannot believe this,” Kit seethed. “Look, you need to leave. I’m fine. I’m not sure if you are, but you cannot be here. So please, before you do any more damage, please leave.”

“I… I just want to help. To be there for you. You are one of my best friends, after all.”

“Then be my friend, listen to me, and go home!”

Kit was distracted as Brad exited the alley, seemingly recovered. A group of their classmates were also drifting past, and one waved to Kit, who accepted the invite. “Go home!” they stressed one last time before they went, vanishing into the crowd.

Beth watched after they’d gone, her mind heavy. Kit couldn’t even be himself here. He couldn’t be comfortable. Couldn’t be happy. She couldn’t imagine anything more dreadful.

It was quite the monster to face, all on your own. And she knew about monsters.

* * *

 The next day dawned, and Beth landed outside the school grounds. It was Thursday and she now had a valid excuse to be there, having phoned ahead and said she was studying to be a teacher, and so wanted to look around the school and teach a class. The headmaster had been uncomfortably blasé about the whole thing, as long as she signed the log and went through the metal detector on the way in, and also could provide a background check on demand.

As such, she’d managed to steal an opportunity and cover a lesson. It was just one lesson, and she was hardly prepared, but her degree was in sociology with a minor in criminology, and she was currently post-grad for further sociology and psychology, so she was sure she could bluff her way through. It was a Humanities Class after all, and she had just the topic in mind to blast some young perspectives wide open, and also help the Deputy out.

She arrived in the classroom as the students filed in, wearing a pair of non-prescription glasses as a faint disguise… not that anyone would recognise her, but oh well. The children took their seats, most not even paying her attention, all of them chatting.

“Welcome Class,” she began, being granted silence, “I’m sorry Mr Fierce couldn’t be here today, he had a rather bad panic attack while planning the lesson. I can’t imagine why, but I’ll be covering today. My name is Miss Mann, no relation to Justin Mann,” she said sweetly.

Most of the class didn’t care. Brad was in a corner, preparing spit-balls. Kit was in the other corner, glaring right at her. Beth smiled like syrup at the room. “So,” she began, “humanities are a basis for understanding and being accepted in the world and society. And as such, on the topic of humanities, can anyone tell me what this is?”

She produced a little flag. It was blue, white and pink. She put it on the desk for all to see.

“It’s a flag,” one child stated.

“Correct, but what kind of flag?”

“A colourful flag?”

“Well, technically yes, but what is it a flag representing?”

“Is it the flag of your homeland?” Brad crooned. “Stupidsville!”

This earned a light laugh from the class, and suddenly part of Beth wanted to shove one of those spitballs up Brad’s nose. Her mind twitched like it might do that anyway, but she tamped it down.

“No, Brad, it isn’t-”

“Hey! Aren’t you that weird lady who was with Pussy Willow?” Brad interrupted.

The entire room turned to look at Kit.

“It’s Kitty, Brad, not Pussy, and she’s friends with my boss,” Kit explained tiredly.

“Yes, such remarks aren’t really appropriate,” Beth said in her best teacher’s tones. “Your classmate is someone to respect and be kind to-”

“Appropriate? You were being weird and gay with her!” Brad sneered.

“I’d really rather you didn’t say that, Bradley,” she warned. “You could really get me into trouble with talk like that.”

Beth did a quick inventory of the room. Brad was very much the outlier, and most of the class just looked bored, more than happy to continue the lesson. Kit almost looked smug, someone else having to deal with Brad for once.

“No,” Beth got back on track. “This flag is not for a country. It’s for-”

“For Stupidsville, like I said! And it’s not a country, it’s just a town,” Brad jeered.

“Why would a town have a flag, Bradley?” Miss Mann asked. And regretted it. Engaging with people like him only made it worse, as Brad launched into a rather extensive history of Stupidsville. It was surprisingly detailed, but also took the opportunity to make fun of gay people, women, and pretty much everyone who wasn’t Brad-like at every opportunity.

Kit raised a hand, after the fifth minute. “Miss Mann?”

“Yes, Kit?” Beth accepted, calling over Brad still talking.

“I do recall Mr Fierce was working through a textbook on humanities? Maybe we should continue from there. I believe last time we were talking about Law and Order, and in fact, I think he was reading us extracts from The Fall of Cosmo Derringer by Detective Jimmy?”

This caused Brad to shut up. He actually looked interested. Detective Jimmy had become quite the idol to the city of late.

“I… oh, very well,” Beth accepted, putting away the trans flag. “Let’s hope we can all learn something from this.” She pulled out the books from the desk.

* * *

The class had been slow and boring, to say the least. Detective Jimmy, for all his apparent glory in helping take down Cosmo Derringer, was a rather poor writer, and his attempts to describe the legal process were vague at best. One part was obviously a copy and paste from an online encyclopaedia, complete with reference annotations left in.

But now it was over, and Beth had a new respect for Mr Fierce, who dealt with that everyday. But she wasn’t done yet. Sure, maybe she couldn’t help by teaching Kit’s fellow students, but maybe she could set up a safe space for him to be himself in. From her own school days, she half remembered there being an LGBT foundation or club or something, so during the lunch break she decided to check it out. She’d never had anything to do with it personally, but she did remember there being posters around, one of which was still up, old and almost disintegrating, hidden in one stairwell where Beth was taking her break.

The club was being held at lunch in Room 203, the poster reported, so she headed to the second floor and found it. It was empty. Strangely, it seemed more than empty, it seemed abandoned. Dilapidated. The ceiling tiles were open to the ducting, dust sheets lay over everything, but despite it all, there were still some pride flags on the walls. It almost felt forced, how tragic the scene was.

“There you are!” Kit hissed, charging up. “I told you to go home and you get a job here?”

“I was only covering that one class and I’m not coming back,” Beth answered. “What happened here?”

Kit looked at the old club. “It’s a disused classroom. Been that way for years. Honestly, my classmates started a rumour that it’s haunted.”

“But… there used to be an LGBT club here?”

“Did there?” Kit looked at it. A lightbulb went on. “Oh, yeah! There used to be, but they gutted it for the funding like… four years ago? They didn’t want the cost of having teachers run it, or the free labour of having students run it either, apparently.”

“That’s… just not right,” Beth said.

Kit looked at her, somewhat sympathetically. “Them’s the breaks. It’s a small borough school, basically a law unto itself and the board of governors. A year ago, Mr Potter made a homophobic remark against a student and they didn’t even suspend him. Meanwhile, Miss Rhysson protected a student’s sexuality from their homophobic parents and was fired on the spot. Hell, we’ve hardly got sex ed classes here, and those we have are startlingly close to calling it a ‘special hug’ that makes the baby. I’m only surprised they didn’t mention storks.”

Beth sighed. “This school sure has changed since I was here.”

“Has it? Or did you just not notice back then?” Kit challenged.

“Well, I-”

“Excuse me,” said a voice behind them. They turned to find a plump, balding man in a grey suit watching them. “What are you doing up here?”

“Sorry, I’m Beth Mann, your supply teacher,” Beth extended a hand.

“Oh, yes. The student teacher.” The man did not shake it. “I’m Mr Bradson, and I’m the headmaster here.”

“Ah, yes, I remember you now. We also spoke over the phone.”

“You remember me?” he clocked.

Beth smiled, in a way that contained mild rage. “I used to go to this school, Mr Bradson. You were deputy headmaster back then, and you had some… interesting stances on bullying, if I recall. But, I thought I’d come back, see how the old school has changed.” She patted a wall like a sick dog. Something creaked. “But I seem to remember there being a club here for LGBT youths? I was always quite proud of it,” she technically lied. She’d never given it any thought. “Do you know what happened to it?”

“Oh, that,” Bradson said tiredly. “We had complaints from a couple of the parents. That and Mr Potter, who complained that Miss Rhysson was spending so much time there.”

“And what was she doing there to make him so angry?”

“Brainwashing the kids, presumably,” Bradson guessed sarcastically. “That’s what the complaints said. But honestly, we don’t like to talk about Mr Potter anymore. Not after that business in the changing rooms.”

“What-” Beth began, but a shake of Kit’s head warned her to stop. She stopped.

“We don’t like to talk about it,” Bradson reinforced. “But yes, we had the club disbanded, too expensive. You’d be amazed how many hours Rhysson wanted for it, but I’m personally glad it’s gone, too controversial, and we haven’t noticed a negative difference since.”

Beth’s brow furrowed. “How much was Rhysson asking to run it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. A few hours a week? But we don’t tend to talk about Miss Rhysson either, come to think of it. We almost got sued because of her, and everything was so touchy-feely with her around. No, this is a school, a place of learning and shaping people for industry. Good riddance.”

“And you don’t see any negative difference,” Beth muttered, which Kit thankfully helped cover with a cough.

“And you, Katherine, what are you doing here? That room isn’t safe. I’ve heard it’s haunted,” Bradson said earnestly.

“Miss Mann is a friend of a friend, so I was just showing her around,” Kit said with a smile.

“Ah, I see. Well, you should be getting back to… whatever children do.”

“Playing or classes, sir. At once, sir,” Kit bowed and left.

“And you… finish your tour and check in with HR. I’m sure they’ll have your pay check for the class and then you can go.”

“Of course, sir,” Beth smiled too, and left in the other direction.

* * *

Beth finished her tour, and retrieved her very meagre pay. She wasn’t quite discouraged yet but it was getting close.

The school day was ending and Beth still wanted to help. The fear she knew, the fear Deputy must have been feeling… She could still do something to make things better.

And what did heroes do when they wanted to help? They gave a speech. Maybe if she just gave a little talk, she could get some people to change their minds. It was a hope.

She headed onto the grounds, looking for the best place to soapbox, even as parents and guardians gathered to collect their children. She wasn’t a public speaker by nature, but she couldn’t do nothing. Not when something needed to be done!

Her path was cut by Kit, who had been headed elsewhere, but intercepted her when he saw the look in Beth’s eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to help,” Beth said bluntly.

“Oh, please no…”

“Hey!” came an unpleasantly familiar voice. It was Brad. “Hey, you!”

“Yes, Brad?” Kit answered.

“No, not you, Pussy Willow. You!” he pointed at Beth.

“Me?” she blinked.

“I looked up that flag you had on your desk. It’s one of those loser pride flags. Are you one of those gays or something?”

Beth could only stare at the sheer ignorance on display. Her fists however curled involuntarily.

“Leave off, Brad. She was just trying to teach us something,” Kit brushed him off.

He refused to be brushed off though. His foul gaze turned on Kit. “And what? Are you her girlfriend or something? Or are you one of those transvestites I've heard about? I heard Trevor mention something about you wearing boys clothes."

Beth’s knuckles whitened. He was a kid, sure he was, but one more word and-

Kit put out a hand, pushed Beth back, and approached Brad.

“Go away, Brad. This instant,” Kit said simply.

“Or what?” Brad grinned, leaning practically nose to nose.

Kit leaned back, just an inch. “Tell me, do you actually have a crush on me, or are you really just that stupid?”

“Me? Feelings for you?” Urgh!” Brad complained, pretending to vomit.

“I ask because I can’t think of why else you spend so much time around me,” Kit said honestly. “I mean, you’d have to be stupid to think I’d be interested in you. You’ve got the breath of a water buffalo, the teeth of a woodchipper, ears like two balled up newspapers, and the intellect of a drunk baby. I’d honestly kiss a toilet before I kissed you, Bradley.”

Brad went red with rage. “Watch it, you prissy little-”

“What are you going to do? Hit a girl? In front of everyone?”

Brad looked round. No parents had noticed the altercation yet, but they weren’t blind.

“No,” he said, “but my dad’s the principle. I can do whatever I like and get away with it.”

“And my dad’s on the board of governors. Checkmate. He can have your dad fired,” Kit returned.

Brad puzzled about this. His Dad’s position was clearly a trump card that, to his surprise, simply hadn’t worked.

“Tell you what,” Kit said, putting a hand on Brad’s shoulder. “If you leave me alone, we’ll say no more about it. If you leave, your dad won’t know, you won’t get in trouble, and most of all, I’ll never do this to you again.”

“Do what?” Brad puzzled. Then his eyes crossed.

“That,” Kit said. Concealed by the dress, Kit’s knee had quite expertly cracked Brad in the fork. To any onlooker, it looked like the leg was raised in a coquettish, girlish way, like when a love interest kisses the hero. The leg came down and Kit smiled. “Now, leave me alone, Brad.”

Brad wheezed into silence.

“Um…” Beth murmured.

“It’s not fun for either gender, Beth,” Kit said with a vicious smile, and walked away, pulling Beth back into another alley.

Beth’s plans fell apart. She was no longer looking for a soapbox, because she got the distinct impression that Kit’s knee could find her fork too, if needed. As she had been assured, it wasn’t fun for anyone. Kit led her into the alley, then turned her so they faced one another.

“Alright, what is up with you?” he said simply.

“I’m just trying to help you,” Beth repeated.

“As apposed to helping yourself?” Kit cut through like a knife. He sighed. “Look, I do appreciate what you’re trying to do, Beth, and I’m thankful that someone cares about me like you do, but I really need you to stop right now.”

“But this school, your life, this situation-”

“It sucks, yes, but I do have a plan!” Kit stressed.

“You… you do?”

“Yes,” Kit said, relaxing. “My parents don’t really respect LGBT stuff. Hell, Mum doesn’t even like me dressing as a tomboy. Girls wear dresses in her books, and Dad isn’t much better. It was a real revelation, wearing trousers for my costume. On top of that, the kids here aren’t that sympathetic, but I only need to endure a few more months.”

“Then what?”

“Then I graduate and can go to college! I’ve got my heart set on Greystoke University with a media studies course. It’s on the far side of the city. When I go, I can move into dorms, and then I can take the opportunity to reinvent myself. I can be myself there.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Beth. I’ll be out from under my parent’s roof, away from these classmates that would make fun of me, and hopefully find more people that understand what I’m going through. I can even start transitioning. I’m thinking of the name Keith. What do you think?”

“Suits you?” Beth guessed.

“We’ll see,” Kit shrugged. “But I’m fine right now, Beth. I’m not even that bothered about having to dress like a girl. I just wish I could wear trousers more often without getting an earful from my parents. But, after I move out, it’s their bridge to burn. They accept me or they don’t. I’ll live either way. But you… I think there’s something wrong with you, Beth?”

Beth looked panicked. She tried to smile but couldn’t. She wanted to run.

“Is this about Cobalt?” Kit said, right on the money.

Beth felt her heartrate spike and almost tried to fly off. But Kit grabbed her arm. It wasn’t like the teen could hold her down, but it might as well have been a lead weight.

“I… I don’t know,” Beth deflated.

“Look, you went through something rough,” Kit said, eyes full of kindness. “The woman who kidnapped you as a child is now trying to take over the city. And you had to face her! That’s something no one should have to deal with.”

“I can’t even look at her troops,” Beth said pathetically.

“Yep, psychology is mean like that,” Kit smirked. “Trauma is corrosive. You need to deal with this, and not,” he emphasised, “deal with me to try and avoid facing it.” His face softened again. “I know you want to help me, and that’s kind, but please can you go home? Go home and fix what’s going on with you.”

“I… really need to talk to someone about this, don’t I?” Beth finally admitted.

“Yeah, you do. Someone who understands. And if that needs to be me, then I’ll be in a mask on the rooftops tonight. I promise.”

Beth smiled slightly. “Could I message you?”

“Probably, but I don’t use the app much. I’m kind of banned from it. Remember the whole Anne-On thing, me pranking people? A psychologist’s field day, me using a second persona. And one with a girl’s name too?”

“Oh yeah. I’d forgotten that,” Beth recalled. “Um… I’ll give you my mobile number.”

“Sure.”

“And… I never got that photo for Sanctimony either?” Beth added, suddenly remembering herself.

Kit stared. “If all of this was for that-” he warned.

“Nope. I don’t think Sanctimony really cares anyway. I just… I really needed to help you. But you’re right. I think I have some problems to deal with myself,” Beth quavered.

“Yes, you do. And you need to talk to someone other than me. Someone more qualified,” Kit enforced. “At least speak to your dad, if no one else,” he added.

“I will. I really will. Thanks… Keith,” Beth smirked.

Despite himself, Kit smiled back, blushing.

“And…” Beth hesitated to add, but pressed on anyway. “And if you need anything, say a roof over your head in case anything goes wrong before you get to college?” she said with some concern. “Well, my house has a spare bed, if you need one. Just in case.”

Kit smiled wider. There was even a tiny tear in one eye. He wiped it away. “Thanks, Beth.”

“Katherine?” called a shrill voice. Beth and Kit sprang back from one another. “Katherine? Oh, there you are,” came a woman in a long dress, a woollen pullover, and a complete pearl necklace. In her face, she was just an older Kit.

“Hi, Mum,” Kit greeted.

“What are you doing down this alley with this… strange woman?” Mrs Dan’rous looked Beth over critically.

“She’s a friend from my night job. I mentioned I go to school here and she needed to tell me about an update to the rotor,” Kit said quickly.

“Really?” Mrs Dan’rous judged. “You and that job. Women shouldn’t work like that.”

“I think she’s a great employee,” Beth said casually. “Like a hero to me.”

“Would you say that?” the mother derided. Her scrutinising stopped on Beth’s trousers.

“We should get home,” Kit said quickly, moving to lead Mrs Dan’rous away. “And I’ll see you at work, Beth,” he called back.

“See you there, Kit.” Beth waved.

“Kit?” Mrs Dan’rous complained as she disappeared around the corner. “Who calls you a boy’s name like Kit?! Your name is Katherine-” And she was gone.

Beth was left alone in the alley. Seeing her work was done, she checked if anyone could see her, and confident they couldn’t, she flew off, up into the sky. She flew high and out of sight and away.

* * *

Beth eventually wound up back home, in through the bedroom window, as downstairs she could hear her mother preparing dinner. Realising she hadn’t eaten all day, she went down for a snack, just to warm her stomach up.

Both her parents were in the kitchen, sitting and talking. They went quiet when she came in. She tried to pretend she hadn’t noticed, but it was impossible not to. Their eyes had to be boring into her.

“Everything alright, sweetie?” her father asked.

Beth closed the fridge door. She knew she had to confront this.

“I’m alright… for the most part. Sorry about the other day.”

“Did you get everything sorted with the Deputy?” he checked.

“I did in the end. They- I mean he, is all good. No problems that can’t be fixed.” She smiled politely.

Both her parents looked back, eyes inquiring. And it honestly didn’t matter if they asked or not, because Beth felt like she might burst. She had to tell someone what happened, and she could trust her parents with a secret, surely.

“Just between us,” she began, “I discovered that… Deputy Dangerous is transgender. I was worried if he was alright, and… well, that’s what happened. He’s trans.”

Both parents stared, exchanged a look, then looked back to her.

Her father deflated with relief. “Oh my, is that all? You’ve had me worried, poppet!”

“You’re not… surprised or anything?” Beth queried.

“I’ve never really thought about it,” he admitted. “But good for him all the same. Always good for people to find themselves. One of your coworkers recently came out, didn’t they, love?” he turned to his wife.

“Oh yes. George became Georgia about three months back,” Mrs Mann said happily. “Her main concern was that she would suddenly get paid a woman’s wages rather than a man’s,” she joked. “In all seriousness though, we watch for that pay inequality stuff at our place. You’d be horrified what people get away with.”

“So, you two aren’t bothered by it?” Beth asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” her father said. “In fact, I think a fair number of heroes are… non-linear?” he said uncertainly.

“Non-binary, dear,” his wife corrected.

“That’s it. I’ve heard there’s a whole group on the app. Cartwheeler is they/them, I’ve heard Undead Woman is trans, and technically Sanctimony and Goody-Two-Shoes are non-binary too, though they do tend to lean towards the masculine. It’s a personal choice though.”

“Huh,” Beth processed.

“I can understand that you were worried though, about the Deputy, so you went to check on him. It was a noble thing to do.”

“I… might have gone a little too far,” Beth admitted.

“Perhaps,” her father conceded.

“Actually, I think I was trying to avoid something. Something I think I need to talk to you about,” she said, taking a seat.

“And what would that be?”

“I’m… I’m scared of Janice Cobalt and the Apocalypto Cult,” she said, tearing up as she let down the walls. “I can’t even look at them.”

Her father held her, and over dinner, they discussed what she was afraid of, and how they could help. A therapist was suggested, one who could really be relied on for security, which Beth agreed to. It might not solve the problem, but it would help. Even so, she took a lot of comfort in how her family had reacted to the news about the Deputy.

Doth Protect Too Much

The night was warm, the air thick and heavy, a thunderstorm certainly on the books for later. But, for the moment, all that mattered to Justice Girl was the room full of men, all sweating below her as the muggy heat clung around them.

She was hiding in the rafters. The men below were armed. She’d been there for twenty minutes.

It had started out so simply; a robbery, tracking the culprits, finding their hideout. It was fun! Times had been rough, so she’d been excited to dole out some justice for a change. But then she found those bloody Apocalypto masks in their hideout. She saw them, her heart skyrocketed, then the far door opened and she’d sprung into the rafters like a startled cat.

It was getting ridiculous. She knew her trauma with the current host of Dark Dragon, Janice Cobalt; the blasted woman had kidnapped her when she was eight years old. But now, somehow, that same trauma was spreading over her life like rot, and had transposed itself onto everything Dark Dragon related, even the Apocalypto Cult! She couldn’t even look at those damned masks without seeing Cobalt’s icy glare and freezing up.

And it was getting really inconvenient. The cult were taking over the city, gang by gang, territory by criminal territory, and she, Justice Girl, one of the stronger heroes available, couldn’t do jack about it!

Well, at least these idiots weren’t smart enough to look up.

Floating above the beams, staring down, and sweating because the air-con didn’t reach this high, she had sent a message for help. She hated asking, and didn’t know who might respond, but it couldn’t possibly be worse than this.

Below, one of the goons gently tilted in his seat. He leaned back. He looked up.

“What the hell?”

“Crap.”

A few things happened all at once. First, guns were raised. Second, Justice Girl let gravity take her. She landed amongst the grunts, shutting her eyes to not see the masks, and used her mind powers to lift a sofa, sweeping it across the room. Most of the cultists didn’t see it coming. Neither did she. In its path, she clotheslined herself with the heavy furniture, crashing to the floor.

What followed was a bit of a blind melee, literally on Justice Girl’s part. Eyes shut, she swung wildly at any noise. It seemed to work, one punch being enough to knock anyone down, and by her aural estimate there were soon only two cultists still standing.

A gun went off.

Justice Girl flinched, coiling into a ball. She waited to see if she was dead, but found she wasn’t. She wasn’t even hit. She peeked one eye open.

Deputy Dangerous had arrived, in his multicoloured cowboy outfit. Not exactly stealthy, red coat and trousers with a green shirt, all worn despite the heat. His hat was a pale blue, his bandanna mask pink, while the little visible of his face peered out between them. And currently, he was wrestling with the last goon, holding him in a headlock… which wasn’t working. Deputy wasn’t the burliest hero, and the cultist was clawing at his arms.

“Little help?” the Deputy grunted.

Justice Girl, with one fist, walked over and bopped the cultist on the head. Out he went.

“Thanks,” the Deputy sighed, brushing himself off.

“Nice hat,” Justice Girl said, a genuine compliment, helping the Deputy up. “Blue looks good on you.”

“You think so? Thought I’d express myself a little,” he chirped.

“Well it… expresses nicely,” she fumbled. “Anyway, thanks for the save.”

“Surprised you couldn’t handle it yourself.” He looked around at the carnage.

“Couldn’t handle it?” Justice Girl squeaked. “Can’t a gal call a friend to help her from time to time?”

The Deputy gave her a look, one that doubted, but didn’t press further. “Okay, I came out of my way to help you. Would you mind helping me in return?”

“It’s not more Apocalypto stuff, is it?” she worried.

“Nope. Some of Battering Sam’s guys are on a roof about a mile away, trying to rig up a pirate TV station. It’s for evil workouts or something?” he said vaguely. “Tell you the truth, I didn’t really listen to Sanctimony’s briefing, but there’s goons to stop. Will you help?”

“Sure. I can fight Battering Sam,” Justice Girl said, with subdued relief. “I can fight him all day. Remember when you guys fought him years ago?”

“I was just a sidekick back then,” Deputy recalled. “And you defeated him.”

“Well, me and Stealth Watcher, but you dealt with the henchmen,” Justice Girl said modestly. She’d just been a sidekick herself, technically, watching the Sidekicks Club, and hijinks had ensued. But she’d impressed them that day, and after that they’d listened to her more. She missed those days. It was so much easier back then.

“Justice Girl?” the Deputy waved a hand before her face.

“Oh, sorry,” she snapped back to reality. “Do you need a lift there, Deputy?”

“What? Me? I do have my dignity!” Deputy puffed up. “I don’t need you to carry… I mean, I can… Oh, damn it, yes, I do,” he gave in. “Time is of the essence.”

“Then brace yourself and let’s go!” She swept him up in both arms, Deputy yelping, as she carried him bridal style into the sky. It was either that or a piggyback.

The rooftop was easy to find, as there were currently a dozen crooks on it rigging up a satellite dish. All dressed in gym clothes, some had added luchador masks for the look of the thing, but the air of the rooftop, even atop the heat, was thick with machismo and sweat. Also, cheap deodorant.

“I hope you’ve got a TV license!” Justice Girl quipped as they set down. Not her best material. She released Deputy Dangerous from her arms, and he stood awkwardly, stretching and wincing. “My joke wasn’t that bad was it?” she asked.

“No worries, just cramps. They happen.” He rubbed his abdomen.

“Aww, is baby injured?” one of the goons teased. “Is baby aching?”

“Is the henchman stupid?” Justice Girl countered sourly.

“Wow,” a second goon said, offended. “This girl hero’s just mean, Justice Growl.”

“She’s certainly angry,” the first replied. “Think it’s her time of the month?”

“Or his!” the second goon pointed to the Deputy, the soul of whit. Both fell into hysterics.

“And what would you know about it, morons?” Deputy snipped.

“Um… what would you know, Deputy?” Justice Girl countered.

“I‘ve… known girls,” Deputy said hotly. “These men are just toxic!”

Goon Two wiped a tear from his eye. “More of a man than you- HURGK!”

The goon was cut off as Deputy Dangerous shot him in the face. The bullet exploded into yellow goop, surrounding his head like gelatine. The man fell to his knees, clawing at it.

“Oh hell,” Justice Girl admired, otherwise unbothered. “Is he going to be alright?”

Deputy reloaded the chamber. “Don’t worry. I’m assured it’s non-lethal.”

“By who? And how non-lethal are we talking?”

“Non-lethal enough that-”

“ATTACK!” a goon yelled. The entire mob descended on them.

The fight wasn’t hard, not really. Deputy had guns, Justice Girl had superstrength and telekinesis, and the goons, they had crowbars and hammers. Basically, it was very one sided. The goons that didn’t run got punched by Justice Girl, or twirled through the air by her telekinesis, or both. The rest got caught by goop rounds from Deputy Dangerous, the two heroes cutting the numbers down from a dozen to less than four in under a minute.

One thug made a mad dash for Dangerous, as the Deputy raised guns. His cylinders clicked empty. Franticly, he tried to reload, but the thug reached him first, a meaty fist catching the young man right in the chest.

“OW! Right in the boob!”

“Pardon, Deputy?” Justice Girl said, subconsciously raising her arms to shield her own rather larger targets.

“Sorry, just slipped out. But I’m dandy,” Deputy wheezed, stumbling back.

“How’s this for dandy?” the thug crowed, and planted the toe of his sneaker right in the fork of the kid’s legs.

“Oooh!” winced every man on the roof.

“Owwww!” Deputy squeaked, collapsing into a ball. “Right in the saddle padding.”

“DEPUTY!” Justice Girl yelled, and restraint went out the window. She’d been toying with the goon so far, letting off steam, but one swing of an arm clotheslined three men at once. The last man, the crotch kicker, stood armed with a knife. He waved it, almost hypnotically.

“You looking for a cut of the fun, love?” the kicker hissed, twirling the blade.

“Don’t call me love,” Justice Girl sneered, planning which bones to break.

“Aha, I’ll call you whatever I-” the kicker grinned, before his smile vanished. There was a crack like wood, he went pale and his eyes crossed. He whimpered, then folded, Deputy’s spurred boot retreating from between his legs.

“Turnabout’s… fair play,” Deputy panted, wobbling on his feet. “Good job… distracting him.”

“Um… sure,” Justice Girl stared. “Are you okay, Deputy? Like, seriously okay?” she worried. “I once saw Wandering Foot hit himself there with a pair of nunchucks, and he was on the floor for the afternoon. Didn’t that hurt?”

“Hit himself where?” Deputy wheezed. Then his eyes flared. “OH!” He crossed his legs. “No! I mean, it’s nothing. I mean, I wear a cup. A strong one. Like… bulletproof. Because I’m a cowboy. Yeah.”

“Really?” Justice Girl looked doubtful. But, however it happened, the Deputy was still standing. Balls of steel, perhaps? Or at least brass ones. The Deputy winced as he tied up the henchmen with his lasso. With the last pull of his rope, he hissed in pain through his teeth.

“Seriously? Are you hurt?” Justice Girl asked. “You know, more than the obvious.” She pointed to his groin.

“Just sore.” He rubbed his chest. “Got punched. Feeling sensitive today.”

“Sensitive? Is it your ribs? Let me take a look.”

“NO!” Deputy leapt back like he’d been stung. “Just… I’m really shy about my body. Yep, that’s it. And it’s just a bruise, I’m sure. I mean, I’ve got protection there too.” He tapped his chest, which sounded like leather. Something tight. Did cowboy’s wear body armour?

“If you’re sure?” Justice Girl moved on. “Now, we should let Sanctimony know we’ve dealt with this. I’ll photograph it and send it-” She reached for her phone. “Oh, crap!”

“What?”

“The cultists from before broke my phone. It’s nearly cracked in two!” She held up the shattered device. “That’s the third one this year.”

“I’ll do it,” Deputy pulled out his mobile, snapping a photo of the goons, all bundled together with the spool of lasso. One even smiled. “Now, how do I send this?” he murmured.

Justice Girl came up to his shoulder. “Just use the hero app.”

“I don’t really use the app much. Not anymore. Just need to find the photo,” he muttered.

Justice Girl snooped over his shoulder, as he scrolled through various photos; landscapes, his outfit on a hook, him and his former boss Gun Shooter posing, a photo of a young woman with brown ringlets and full makeup-

“Oh, there’s a pretty face,” Justice Girl cooed.

“Thanks, I really did look good that day. Too bad it was just for school.”

“Yeah too…” she paused. “Pardon, Deputy?”

Despite the heat, the air abruptly froze. Deputy Dangerous froze too, staring ahead like a rabbit in headlights. Justice Girl looked on, sensing the tension, but not entirely sure why. Was that really a photo of him? It wasn’t unheard of, heroic disguises and all, and he’d always been lean for his age, but he clearly hadn’t meant to say it. Not to her, at least.

Either way, now he was shaking, staring ahead, waiting for some boot to drop. Justice Girl could feel it; this was suddenly very important. A defining moment. She had to be careful, though she still wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Deputy?” she began, treading the dangerous waters. “Are you… a woman?”

It was like stepping off a dock and the boat not being there. She knew it was wrong the moment she said it. The slight narrowing of Deputy’s eyes told her.

“No, I am not,” the Deputy said firmly. “I am a man, Justice Girl.” There were tiny tears in his eyes. “Definitely a man.”

Justice Girl’s heart sank. “Sorry, with the photo, I just didn’t mean-” She stopped. The penny had been in the air, when it suddenly landed with a clang. “Oh! Wait! Are you-”

“Don’t say it! Not in front of the evil henchmen!” Deputy ordered.

“But are you… you know?” she said anyway.

Deputy Dangerous’s cheeks reddened behind his bandanna. “I am a male superhero, thank you very much, Justice Girl,” he said sharply. “That’s all that matters.”

“But you’re saying you’re really-”

“SHHH!”

“HA!” one of the villainous goons erupted, apparently still conscious. “Really? So you’re just dressed as a man, are you, girlie?” he sneered. “Hear that, boys? We were beaten up by two girls!” he laughed to his colleagues, most of whom weren’t conscious.

Justice Girl winced. She’d thought the goon out cold; her mistake. And it was the crotch kicker too, grinning evilly, which somehow made it worse.

The Deputy stood, eyes like knives, blushing like a beat. Suddenly, he span, and from the hip fired another goop round right at the kicker’s head. The goon collapsed, still tied up.

“I am a man,” Deputy stressed, voice quaking. Then something broke in him. “Damn it, and I was doing so well today!” he whined. “I thought I was covering myself just fine, even this time of the month, even with that kick to the crotch! I mean, that hurt!” He adjusted his nether regions, and something slipped. It crept down his pant leg, like a hubcap from a crash, and the bundle of socks rolled out of his trousers, leaving his groin considerably flatter. The Deputy’s face went crimson. “I’ve got to go,” he said, voice cracking, as he grabbed the socks and ran for the fire escape.

“Deputy, wait!” Justice Girl called after him, but he was gone, and she couldn’t leave the henchmen. Thinking to herself, she double checked their bonds, and punched the crotch kicker one last time, before handing the group to the cops, her brain buzzing all the while.

And she’d never got that photo for Sanctimony either.

* * *

Beth stared at the unanswered message.

“You okay?” it said. The chat was otherwise empty.

She’d come home and knew she had to do something. She had to be supportive, at the very least. This was a complicated issue, and she had to support her friend. The only problem, she wasn’t really sure how to be supportive. To her embarrassment, she’d never actually met a trans person before.

Correction, her brain piped up; you’ve actually known a trans person for years. Start there.

This was true. She’d known Deputy Dangerous since he was a sidekick, with her double checking that “He” was the right pronoun there. But yes, he’d always been a boy. Meanwhile she, and she took the moment to double check her own pronouns too, had never noticed anything to signal otherwise. Okay, his outfit was always a bit baggy, and maybe his voice sometimes forgot to break, but he was young, and that happened to young men, right?

The question intermingled with the embarrassed young man she’d seen on the roof, who’d seemed so upset. She couldn’t blame him though. He’d just unwillingly been outed; not a nice feeling, or so she’d heard. He had to be stressing, worrying what she would tell someone. He had to be so scared, surely. But, she could at least sympathise there, feeling scared. She was scared most days currently. But the Deputy had to be feeling so lonely too, right? Getting by on fake smiles and reassurances? Just dreading going out and facing the eyes of people? People who cared so much, but couldn’t understand, and the people who hated you, and didn’t care to learn. The person who hated her so-

NO! This was about him! Not about her! This was about Deputy Dangerous.

Beth breathed and unclenched her hands, releasing the dread thoughts. She’d left dents in her desk with her fingers, in the solid wood. She took slow breaths until her heart settled. She was in her bedroom, and she was fine. She was safe. Safe and sound. Safe. And. Sound.

Deputy Dangerous wasn’t though. He needed help. Needed her help. She had to help him, because that was right, right? And she needed that photo for Sanctimony, though that was a minor concern. But she needed to help her friend. She would help him, and then everything would be fine in the world!

Right?

A glass of water cracked, as her rampant telekinesis squeezed it. She breathed and pushed that rogue part down, as if she could control it. But she was fine. She was safe and fine.

She needed to help the Deputy, and to do that she needed to contact him. Unfortunately, her message was going unanswered, and she didn’t want to send more, not with Goody-Two-Shoes moderating the app so vigilantly. She would have to find the Deputy the old fashioned way.

He only patrolled a few nights a week, she knew, non-consecutive usually, and he’d been out last night. That meant she’d have to find him outside of that too. Out of costume. A big taboo, but this was alright, wasn’t it? They were friends and friends learned each other’s secret identities all the time. Ask for forgiveness, not permission, she thought. But it wouldn’t be easy, finding his secret identity. They were secret. There was one person who could get her started though, surely… and another person who could find her that first person. It was practically solved already!

“Dad?” she said, finding her father washing the dishes. “Do you have Gun Shooter’s number?”

* * *

Her father hadn’t taken much persuading, even if he did ask why she wanted to see the old cowboy. The all purpose answer “It’s a little private” with the additional, “It involves Deputy Dangerous” seemed to cover everything, though as they flew she realised her dad may have got the wrong idea. He’d awkwardly asked if she was “late”, to which she’d answered there wasn’t any hurry, and now he seemed to be stealing glances around her belly. Definitely the wrong idea.

They arrived at The Corral, the hideout of Gun Shooter himself, situated in a feed loft of a fake barn, all part of a tourist trap on the city limits. There was a large plastic cow with a sign advertising “The Biggest Steak You’ll Ever Eat!”, a restaurant full of rather large customers built between the cow’s legs. The folks were too busy eating to notice the two heroes enter the barn.

“Howdy!” Gun Shooter greeted, adorned in his silver cowboy outfit. “Welcome, Justices.”

His hideout had all the usual hallmarks; a weapons rack, a small gym, an entire stack of ammo of many different types, and the standard issue massive computer, though his was strangely painted in cow print, complete with horns. There was also hay everywhere.

“So, what brings you to the Corral today?” he said, pronouncing the capital letter.

“My daughter needs to locate Deputy Dangerous,” Justice Man said. “Have you seen him?”

“Haven’t rightly,” Shooter said, playing up the Texan accent. You’d never believe he was Canadian. “Deputy’s been busy past couple weeks. He’s got heroics of his own now, since we’ve gone our separate ways, two lone rangers. Though, we do meet up on occasion, considering he still operates out of here.”

“He doesn’t have his own hideout yet?” Justice Man queried.

“Nope. No one really stepped in to fill the void after Cosmo got busted,” Shooter sighed. “I mean, one company did, led by Justin Mann himself, but I’ve got to say the service isn’t as good. They set me up here, and to put it simply, the amenities are lacking.”

“Is that why it smells of cow dung?” Beth asked, wrinkling her nose.

“I would assume so,” Shooter confirmed. “I think the hay might be pre-used. That Justin Mann is a piece of work.”

Shooter paused, seeing if Justice Man would react to this. There were still theories that him and Justin Mann were one and the same, but Justice Man just nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, my girl hasn’t got one yet either. She works out of our home,” he said happily.

“Huh,” Shooter said, filing this as evidence against the Justin Mann theory.

Beth didn’t comment. She didn’t like Uncle Justin either, and wasn’t going to defend him.

“Anyway,” Shooter got back on track, “Why do you need the Deputy? Something up?”

“It’s personal,” Justice Man said, in that edged way that showed it worried him.

“I just need to talk to him,” Justice Girl explained. “It’s private, and I really shouldn’t be telling anyone but him.”

Gun Shooter suddenly shared Justice Man’s worry. He looked Justice Girl up and down, stopping briefly on her stomach too. “Private and personal?” he quavered.

Justice Man nodded grimly, not saying a word. He did mime a large belly though.

“And, to be clear, I am not pregnant!” Beth added caustically.

Both Justice Man and Gun Shooter sighed with relief. They almost fell against each other, Gun Shooter wiping his brow. Beth glared, but she did note Gun Shooter’s concern. He clearly wasn’t in the know that Deputy Dangerous wasn’t the impregnating sort.

“With that said,” she tried to pull them back, “do you have any idea how I can find him? It’s important.”

“How important are we talking?” Shooter asked.

“Probably really important to him, and I think he’ll be very scared and confused. But it’s also really private, so I can’t explain why. Please, I just need some help.”

“Really?” Shooter raised an eyebrow. “The Deputy can usually handle things. He might be a young man, but he can fight when he needs to. You sure he needs you poking around?”

“I need to help him!” she snapped. There was a purple glow and a horn snapped off the computer, embedding in the far wall. “Please,” she added, as the older heroes unclenched.

“Are… we talking secret identities here?” Shooter asked warily.

“I think so. I know it’s a challenge, and morally complex, but I need to know,” she said.

“You do seem serious, but I don’t think I can help,” the cowboy replied unhappily.

“Please, I just need to speak to him-”

“No, it’s not that I don’t want to,” he assured. “Would that I could, truth be told, but I don’t actually know the Deputy’s identity myself.”

“You don’t?” Justice Man said, puzzled. “But he was your sidekick, wasn’t he?”

“True enough, but he never told me his real name,” Shooter said.

“Never?” Justice Man failed to believe. “Then how did you recruit him? He can’t have just turned up in costume and gone ‘Hi, I’m your new sidekick’, cap in hand?”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly like that, but…” Gun Shooter shrank.

“Kirk…” Justice Man sighed disappointedly.

“What did happen?” Beth asked.

“Well, it was more than a decade ago,” Shooter began. “I was trying to revitalise my image, thought I was getting unpopular, so Wandering Fist got me in touch with some TV executive types. They organised a TV show for me, one of those talent contest type things with me as a judge. So You Think You Can Sidekick, it was called."

Beth stared. “And Deputy was one of the contestants?”

“Yep. One of the finalists,” Shooter nodded. “Problem was, with one thing and another, the show never came together. With everyone needing secret identities, but still being interviewed for drama, and then there were the child labour people, and then there were the people worried about kids using guns, which are my whole schtick-” He twirled his revolvers- “the lawyers eventually got involved and the show never went out. But, it did get to the last round, a top five, and the Deputy was the only one whose parents didn’t try to sue me,” he said proudly. “He was an impressive cowboy though. I’ve never regretted my choice, not once.”

“And he never told you his name?”

“I never asked. Thought it was up to him. Which is why I ask again; Is this really that important?”

“I think so,” Beth said, her insides twisting. She needed to find him. She needed to help.

“Okay then, but how do you suggest we go about it?” Shooter asked.

Justice Girl thought a moment. A lightbulb went on. “Do you still have the paperwork for Do You Think You Can Sidekick?”

“I do!” Shooter recalled. “In fact, for the releases and all that, I have all the sidekick’s real names. Only problem, I don’t know which one is the Deputy. There were twelve of them, and I’ve looked it over once or twice over the years, but I’ve never been sure.”

“We can at least look.”

Shooter searched through a heap of papers in the corner, under some hay. Being a super wasn’t really a paperwork heavy job, but it still turned up thanks to Sanctimony. He eventually fished out a sheaf of paper, all stapled together, brushing off a few straws.

“Here we go.” He handed it over. “Good luck.”

It was a number of contracts, with the names of all the participants ticked off on the front page. As Shooter had said though, there was no connection to their super identities, just twelve names with their signatures beside, and then contact details such as addresses and schools as necessary. Probably, they’d had to ask for time off for the show. Many of the signatures were rather juvenile, block capitals, while a couple were perfect looping cursive. Beth could only guess some private school kids got in too, their parents paying for their best chances to be a super. But none of the names stood out, fancy or otherwise.

“Damn. No clues,” she muttered irately.

“Told you,” Shooter said. “It’s a mystery.”

“I do have an idea,” Justice Man said. This caused a pause for his daughter and his friend. Justice Man wasn’t a fool, but he wasn’t really the smartest, so ideas were rare that didn’t involve punching. They were usually worth listening to though.

“Yep, J.M?” Shooter allowed.

“I heard of someone recently, a hero called Destiny,” he began, thinking aloud. “Destiny doesn’t have any powers, not really, but I hear he’s very good at spotting secret identities.”

“You think we should ask him?”

“No, because I’ve heard he does it by looking out for nominative determinism. You know, the thing where your name is strangely fitting for your job?” he described slowly.

“Is that a thing?”

“For a lot of us, yes,” Justice Man confirmed. “I mean, I’m aware there is a commonly held theory concerning my name, right?” He looked to Shooter, who nodded slowly. “Burno is James Crisper, Melody Planker was Chorus, and if you don’t mind me saying, Gun Shooter, your real name is Kirk Kablammo.”

“It’s Canadian, my family worked in munitions… and I see your point,” Kirk agreed. “But there isn’t anything like Deputy on that list.”

“But,” Justice Girl piped up, “he wouldn’t have been going by Deputy back then, would he? He started out as Kid Dangerous.”

She looked back to the list, scanning down from the top. And there, four names down, was one that stood out.

“I think I see him,” Justice Girl smiled. “Kit Dan’rous?” she read out. It sounded French, or possibly French Canadian. A perfect sidekick for Gun Shooter.

“Kit? Isn’t that short for Kitty or Katherine?” Shooter wondered.

“It can be a boy’s name too. Like that car in that show,” she recalled defensively.

“Alright,” Gun Shooter nodded. “But are you still sure about this?”

“I’m sure I can find him,” Justice Girl said, taking a quick photo of the address with her new phone. “Look, I appreciate the help, but I should do this alone. He’ll tell you in time, if he wants to. Understand?”

“And, whatever this is, it has to be you?” Gun Shooter said.

“I need to be the one to help him,” Beth said flatly. The two older heroes exchanged a look.

“Honey, are you alright?” her dad asked. “You seem a bit… fixated on this.”

“You’re finding out a hero’s secret identity,” Shooter added.

“It’s fine,” she said bluntly. “Look, I just want to help him. It’s fine. Now, I’ve got the address, so I’ll see you later. Love you, Dad.” She gave him a quick hug and then left, flying off on her own. The two other heroes watched her go.

“Is she doing alright? With all this Cobalt stuff?” Shooter guessed.

“It does seem to have her a little out of sorts,” Justice Man confirmed.

“And Deputy Dangerous is involved?”

“Who knows?” Justice Man shrugged. “I think she just needs to see this through.”

Gun Shooter couldn’t argue, so instead asked for Justice Man’s help repairing the fake horns on his massive computer.

* * *

Oliver Perks Highschool was not the best school in the city, but it managed to situate itself in one of the older surviving buildings. Having used to be a hospital, it looked closer to a boarding school than a standard public one; A brown stone façade, three floors, and a decent grounds rather than just a tarmacked yard to play in, but it also took in a lot of students to fill the space, taking kids from the neighbouring five boroughs. As such, it was both immensely overcrowded and equally underfunded. They barely had enough to spruce up the brickwork each year.

It was also the old stomping grounds for Beth. She’d spent years here, taking classes, spending time with her friends, every school day for most of a decade. And god, had she been glad to leave. College had been bliss by comparison. Children were cruel and she had been chubby, and with how passionate she was about certain super figures, she had been given the all-purpose label of “Freak”. Those had not been good years.

She wandered the grounds, not so old to look out of place, but ready with a story if anyone asked. She knew she’d need to look carefully though, as while she’d seen a photo, the Deputy could look like anyone. Any man, anyone, anywhere. She just needed to find-

Oh.

She’d just been about to ask someone, when she’d spotted him… if “Him” was even applicable here? He looked precisely like the photo she’d seen; A young woman, brown ringlets all around her head, almost bronze skin, dark freckles, and full lips that didn’t even require lipstick to stand out. She, or he, or maybe they, was dressed in a school uniform, green sweater with a grey-black leg-length dress and shiny shoes. They were moving with a crowd of other kids their age, before they stopped to check something on their phone.

Well, she’d come this far, Beth told herself.

She hurried close, with a smile that aimed for reassuring. It landed on strained.

“Hi there,” she greeted.

Kit looked up, puzzled. “Hi?”

“Sorry, but you probably don’t recognise me-”

“I don’t,” Kit said, edging away.

“We have met though. I just need to speak with you… about certain things,” she said coyly.

Kit’s hand went to a pocket. Beth guessed it contained mace. She didn’t wait to find out.

“We do know each other. I can explain when it’s… Just Us,” she said, playing the words meaningfully.

“What?” Kit’s hand got closer to the mace.

“Just Us,” Beth repeated slowly. The hand got closer to the pocket. Beth rolled her eyes. “Oh, screw it. It’s me, Justice Girl!” she whispered through gritted teeth.

Kit’s hand stopped, eyes wide. There was obviously some consideration whether still to use the mace. Kit decided no, even as the shock morphed into an angry twitch that warned of coming storms.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Kit hissed back.

“Kitty?” one of Kit’s friends came up. “What’s the matter? Who’s this?” a teen girl sneered, like they would at an old person. Beth suppressed annoyance. She was only mid-twenties.

“I’m Beth,” she said helpfully. “I’m-”

“She’s from my night job,” Kit said quickly. “You know how busy I get, with all that cleaning I do. Cleaning up the city,” he said proudly. “Beth here is one of my superiors.”

“And she’s here at your school?” the classmate doubted. “That’s weird, girl.”

“Seems like it,” Kit said, heat simmering behind those words. “Don’t know why yet, but I need to talk with her. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

“Alright. Shout if she’s a creep or something,” the classmate smiled and left, giving Beth one last sour glance.

The moment they’d moved on, Kit’s arm found Beth’s, gripped it like a vice, and dragged her into an alley out of sight.

“What! The! HELL!” Kit snarled.

“Sorry, I just thought you seemed distressed when I last saw you. You know, with what you said and all?” Beth said softly. Kit was gripping her arm quite hard.

“Yes, I was a bit upset!” he stressed. “I wasn’t at my best, not a good time for me, and I’d just been hit in the chest and the crotch. I’ll tell you, that isn’t fun, no matter your gender! And then I made a stupid mistake and outed myself to you! Stupid!”

“But you can trust me,” Beth affirmed. “I won’t tell a soul if you don’t want me to.”

“I’d hope not!” Kit’s face furrowed. “But how did you even find me? Because this is like, several layers of Not Okay, Justice… uh…” Kit paused.

“Beth. You can call me Beth.”

“Thank you, Beth. This is not okay!” he almost yelled.

“Look, you seemed like a girl in… sorry, a boy in need.” She looked at the feminine appearance in front of her. “Sorry, can I ask, what should I be calling you right now?”

Kit glowered, but relented with an eye roll. “When you’re around me here? Call me a girl,  they/them if you absolutely have to. No one here knows that side of me yet!"

"No one?"

"My parents aren’t exactly progressive and my classmates are mostly well-off internet brats, so they think trans people are those weirdos everyone keeps complaining about going into bathrooms. I’d rather not expose myself to their ridicule, as of yet,” he said pointedly.

“That’s… so sad,” Beth realised. “You can’t even be yourself at home?”

“I can be myself on the rooftops wearing a mask! But I don’t need you, messing things-”

“What do we have here?” said a deep, unpleasant voice. It had undertones of bully before you even saw the speaker. Beth clenched her fists, years of similar bullies twanging in her brain. Her mind heard enemy. It heard Dark Dragon, which shot up her spine like a jolt. But Kit just sighed, which lessened the panic.

“What do you want, Brad?” Kit said with unveiled disdain.

“What are you two girls doing back here? Being lesbians or something?” Brad drawled.

“That’s so sweet, Brad,” Kit said with baffling faux-sweetness. “You think I’m pretty enough that she’d be into me?”

 Brad paused to process this. He was a big, young man, the type that absolutely screamed quarterback, with all the muscles and cauliflower ears that came with it. You could almost hear the gears as he tried to understand the remark.

“Ha! Gay!” he said at last, taking a safe bet in a classic.

Kit shook her head. “A loser says Huh?”

“Huh?”

“Exactly.”

Again, there was the pause. Kit rolled their… no, her eyes at him. It was Her while Brad was around, right? Kit sighed. “Let’s go. He’ll be thinking about that one for a minute.”

Kit led them on down the alley and out into a grassy area on the far side. It was mostly quiet, but even so they slipped behind a tree to keep talking.

“Look, I appreciate the worry, Beth, but I don’t need looking after.”

“You do need help though,” Beth argued. “You need support. You must feel so lonely and afraid, living like this?"

"Are you sure you’re talking about me?” Kit countered, eyes penetrating. “I’m not afraid of people like Brad, and while yes, I wish things were otherwise, I’m not particularly lonely. I mean, someone around here does know about me.”

“They do?”

“Well… Trevor does,” they confessed, their tone confessing this to be underwhelming. “He’s one of my classmates. He knows I’m Deputy Dangerous, at least.”

“But what about the trans thing!” Beth stressed.

“What? Oh, that,” Kit understood. “He’s actually a bit awkward on that point, honestly. He’s fine with me being a superhero, but wearing boy’s clothing? That kind of baffles him.”

“You said your parents don’t know either,” Beth said, her tone aching with concern. “Kit, even Gun Shooter doesn’t know.”

Kit’s eyes flared. “You told him!”

“No!” Beth backpedalled. “I asked him for help, but I didn’t tell him a thing. At worst, he thinks we’re a couple or something like that. So does my dad.”

“I cannot believe this,” Kit seethed. “Look, you need to leave. I’m fine. I’m not sure if you are, but you cannot be here. So please, before you do any more damage, please leave.”

“I… I just want to help. To be there for you. You are one of my best friends, after all.”

“Then be my friend, listen to me, and go home!”

Kit was distracted as Brad exited the alley, seemingly recovered. A group of their classmates were also drifting past, and one waved to Kit, who accepted the invite. “Go home!” they stressed one last time before they went, vanishing into the crowd.

Beth watched after they’d gone, her mind heavy. Kit couldn’t even be himself here. He couldn’t be comfortable. Couldn’t be happy. She couldn’t imagine anything more dreadful.

It was quite the monster to face, all on your own. And she knew about monsters.

* * *

 The next day dawned, and Beth landed outside the school grounds. It was Thursday and she now had a valid excuse to be there, having phoned ahead and said she was studying to be a teacher, and so wanted to look around the school and teach a class. The headmaster had been uncomfortably blasé about the whole thing, as long as she signed the log and went through the metal detector on the way in, and also could provide a background check on demand.

As such, she’d managed to steal an opportunity and cover a lesson. It was just one lesson, and she was hardly prepared, but her degree was in sociology with a minor in criminology, and she was currently post-grad for further sociology and psychology, so she was sure she could bluff her way through. It was a Humanities Class after all, and she had just the topic in mind to blast some young perspectives wide open, and also help the Deputy out.

She arrived in the classroom as the students filed in, wearing a pair of non-prescription glasses as a faint disguise… not that anyone would recognise her, but oh well. The children took their seats, most not even paying her attention, all of them chatting.

“Welcome Class,” she began, being granted silence, “I’m sorry Mr Fierce couldn’t be here today, he had a rather bad panic attack while planning the lesson. I can’t imagine why, but I’ll be covering today. My name is Miss Mann, no relation to Justin Mann,” she said sweetly.

Most of the class didn’t care. Brad was in a corner, preparing spit-balls. Kit was in the other corner, glaring right at her. Beth smiled like syrup at the room. “So,” she began, “humanities are a basis for understanding and being accepted in the world and society. And as such, on the topic of humanities, can anyone tell me what this is?”

She produced a little flag. It was blue, white and pink. She put it on the desk for all to see.

“It’s a flag,” one child stated.

“Correct, but what kind of flag?”

“A colourful flag?”

“Well, technically yes, but what is it a flag representing?”

“Is it the flag of your homeland?” Brad crooned. “Stupidsville!”

This earned a light laugh from the class, and suddenly part of Beth wanted to shove one of those spitballs up Brad’s nose. Her mind twitched like it might do that anyway, but she tamped it down.

“No, Brad, it isn’t-”

“Hey! Aren’t you that weird lady who was with Pussy Willow?” Brad interrupted.

The entire room turned to look at Kit.

“It’s Kitty, Brad, not Pussy, and she’s friends with my boss,” Kit explained tiredly.

“Yes, such remarks aren’t really appropriate,” Beth said in her best teacher’s tones. “Your classmate is someone to respect and be kind to-”

“Appropriate? You were being weird and gay with her!” Brad sneered.

“I’d really rather you didn’t say that, Bradley,” she warned. “You could really get me into trouble with talk like that.”

Beth did a quick inventory of the room. Brad was very much the outlier, and most of the class just looked bored, more than happy to continue the lesson. Kit almost looked smug, someone else having to deal with Brad for once.

“No,” Beth got back on track. “This flag is not for a country. It’s for-”

“For Stupidsville, like I said! And it’s not a country, it’s just a town,” Brad jeered.

“Why would a town have a flag, Bradley?” Miss Mann asked. And regretted it. Engaging with people like him only made it worse, as Brad launched into a rather extensive history of Stupidsville. It was surprisingly detailed, but also took the opportunity to make fun of gay people, women, and pretty much everyone who wasn’t Brad-like at every opportunity.

Kit raised a hand, after the fifth minute. “Miss Mann?”

“Yes, Kit?” Beth accepted, calling over Brad still talking.

“I do recall Mr Fierce was working through a textbook on humanities? Maybe we should continue from there. I believe last time we were talking about Law and Order, and in fact, I think he was reading us extracts from The Fall of Cosmo Derringer by Detective Jimmy?”

This caused Brad to shut up. He actually looked interested. Detective Jimmy had become quite the idol to the city of late.

“I… oh, very well,” Beth accepted, putting away the trans flag. “Let’s hope we can all learn something from this.” She pulled out the books from the desk.

* * *

The class had been slow and boring, to say the least. Detective Jimmy, for all his apparent glory in helping take down Cosmo Derringer, was a rather poor writer, and his attempts to describe the legal process were vague at best. One part was obviously a copy and paste from an online encyclopaedia, complete with reference annotations left in.

But now it was over, and Beth had a new respect for Mr Fierce, who dealt with that everyday. But she wasn’t done yet. Sure, maybe she couldn’t help by teaching Kit’s fellow students, but maybe she could set up a safe space for him to be himself in. From her own school days, she half remembered there being an LGBT foundation or club or something, so during the lunch break she decided to check it out. She’d never had anything to do with it personally, but she did remember there being posters around, one of which was still up, old and almost disintegrating, hidden in one stairwell where Beth was taking her break.

The club was being held at lunch in Room 203, the poster reported, so she headed to the second floor and found it. It was empty. Strangely, it seemed more than empty, it seemed abandoned. Dilapidated. The ceiling tiles were open to the ducting, dust sheets lay over everything, but despite it all, there were still some pride flags on the walls. It almost felt forced, how tragic the scene was.

“There you are!” Kit hissed, charging up. “I told you to go home and you get a job here?”

“I was only covering that one class and I’m not coming back,” Beth answered. “What happened here?”

Kit looked at the old club. “It’s a disused classroom. Been that way for years. Honestly, my classmates started a rumour that it’s haunted.”

“But… there used to be an LGBT club here?”

“Did there?” Kit looked at it. A lightbulb went on. “Oh, yeah! There used to be, but they gutted it for the funding like… four years ago? They didn’t want the cost of having teachers run it, or the free labour of having students run it either, apparently.”

“That’s… just not right,” Beth said.

Kit looked at her, somewhat sympathetically. “Them’s the breaks. It’s a small borough school, basically a law unto itself and the board of governors. A year ago, Mr Potter made a homophobic remark against a student and they didn’t even suspend him. Meanwhile, Miss Rhysson protected a student’s sexuality from their homophobic parents and was fired on the spot. Hell, we’ve hardly got sex ed classes here, and those we have are startlingly close to calling it a ‘special hug’ that makes the baby. I’m only surprised they didn’t mention storks.”

Beth sighed. “This school sure has changed since I was here.”

“Has it? Or did you just not notice back then?” Kit challenged.

“Well, I-”

“Excuse me,” said a voice behind them. They turned to find a plump, balding man in a grey suit watching them. “What are you doing up here?”

“Sorry, I’m Beth Mann, your supply teacher,” Beth extended a hand.

“Oh, yes. The student teacher.” The man did not shake it. “I’m Mr Bradson, and I’m the headmaster here.”

“Ah, yes, I remember you now. We also spoke over the phone.”

“You remember me?” he clocked.

Beth smiled, in a way that contained mild rage. “I used to go to this school, Mr Bradson. You were deputy headmaster back then, and you had some… interesting stances on bullying, if I recall. But, I thought I’d come back, see how the old school has changed.” She patted a wall like a sick dog. Something creaked. “But I seem to remember there being a club here for LGBT youths? I was always quite proud of it,” she technically lied. She’d never given it any thought. “Do you know what happened to it?”

“Oh, that,” Bradson said tiredly. “We had complaints from a couple of the parents. That and Mr Potter, who complained that Miss Rhysson was spending so much time there.”

“And what was she doing there to make him so angry?”

“Brainwashing the kids, presumably,” Bradson guessed sarcastically. “That’s what the complaints said. But honestly, we don’t like to talk about Mr Potter anymore. Not after that business in the changing rooms.”

“What-” Beth began, but a shake of Kit’s head warned her to stop. She stopped.

“We don’t like to talk about it,” Bradson reinforced. “But yes, we had the club disbanded, too expensive. You’d be amazed how many hours Rhysson wanted for it, but I’m personally glad it’s gone, too controversial, and we haven’t noticed a negative difference since.”

Beth’s brow furrowed. “How much was Rhysson asking to run it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. A few hours a week? But we don’t tend to talk about Miss Rhysson either, come to think of it. We almost got sued because of her, and everything was so touchy-feely with her around. No, this is a school, a place of learning and shaping people for industry. Good riddance.”

“And you don’t see any negative difference,” Beth muttered, which Kit thankfully helped cover with a cough.

“And you, Katherine, what are you doing here? That room isn’t safe. I’ve heard it’s haunted,” Bradson said earnestly.

“Miss Mann is a friend of a friend, so I was just showing her around,” Kit said with a smile.

“Ah, I see. Well, you should be getting back to… whatever children do.”

“Playing or classes, sir. At once, sir,” Kit bowed and left.

“And you… finish your tour and check in with HR. I’m sure they’ll have your pay check for the class and then you can go.”

“Of course, sir,” Beth smiled too, and left in the other direction.

* * *

Beth finished her tour, and retrieved her very meagre pay. She wasn’t quite discouraged yet but it was getting close.

The school day was ending and Beth still wanted to help. The fear she knew, the fear Deputy must have been feeling… She could still do something to make things better.

And what did heroes do when they wanted to help? They gave a speech. Maybe if she just gave a little talk, she could get some people to change their minds. It was a hope.

She headed onto the grounds, looking for the best place to soapbox, even as parents and guardians gathered to collect their children. She wasn’t a public speaker by nature, but she couldn’t do nothing. Not when something needed to be done!

Her path was cut by Kit, who had been headed elsewhere, but intercepted her when he saw the look in Beth’s eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to help,” Beth said bluntly.

“Oh, please no…”

“Hey!” came an unpleasantly familiar voice. It was Brad. “Hey, you!”

“Yes, Brad?” Kit answered.

“No, not you, Pussy Willow. You!” he pointed at Beth.

“Me?” she blinked.

“I looked up that flag you had on your desk. It’s one of those loser pride flags. Are you one of those gays or something?”

Beth could only stare at the sheer ignorance on display. Her fists however curled involuntarily.

“Leave off, Brad. She was just trying to teach us something,” Kit brushed him off.

He refused to be brushed off though. His foul gaze turned on Kit. “And what? Are you her girlfriend or something? Or are you one of those transvestites I've heard about? I heard Trevor mention something about you wearing boys clothes."

Beth’s knuckles whitened. He was a kid, sure he was, but one more word and-

Kit put out a hand, pushed Beth back, and approached Brad.

“Go away, Brad. This instant,” Kit said simply.

“Or what?” Brad grinned, leaning practically nose to nose.

Kit leaned back, just an inch. “Tell me, do you actually have a crush on me, or are you really just that stupid?”

“Me? Feelings for you?” Urgh!” Brad complained, pretending to vomit.

“I ask because I can’t think of why else you spend so much time around me,” Kit said honestly. “I mean, you’d have to be stupid to think I’d be interested in you. You’ve got the breath of a water buffalo, the teeth of a woodchipper, ears like two balled up newspapers, and the intellect of a drunk baby. I’d honestly kiss a toilet before I kissed you, Bradley.”

Brad went red with rage. “Watch it, you prissy little-”

“What are you going to do? Hit a girl? In front of everyone?”

Brad looked round. No parents had noticed the altercation yet, but they weren’t blind.

“No,” he said, “but my dad’s the principle. I can do whatever I like and get away with it.”

“And my dad’s on the board of governors. Checkmate. He can have your dad fired,” Kit returned.

Brad puzzled about this. His Dad’s position was clearly a trump card that, to his surprise, simply hadn’t worked.

“Tell you what,” Kit said, putting a hand on Brad’s shoulder. “If you leave me alone, we’ll say no more about it. If you leave, your dad won’t know, you won’t get in trouble, and most of all, I’ll never do this to you again.”

“Do what?” Brad puzzled. Then his eyes crossed.

“That,” Kit said. Concealed by the dress, Kit’s knee had quite expertly cracked Brad in the fork. To any onlooker, it looked like the leg was raised in a coquettish, girlish way, like when a love interest kisses the hero. The leg came down and Kit smiled. “Now, leave me alone, Brad.”

Brad wheezed into silence.

“Um…” Beth murmured.

“It’s not fun for either gender, Beth,” Kit said with a vicious smile, and walked away, pulling Beth back into another alley.

Beth’s plans fell apart. She was no longer looking for a soapbox, because she got the distinct impression that Kit’s knee could find her fork too, if needed. As she had been assured, it wasn’t fun for anyone. Kit led her into the alley, then turned her so they faced one another.

“Alright, what is up with you?” he said simply.

“I’m just trying to help you,” Beth repeated.

“As apposed to helping yourself?” Kit cut through like a knife. He sighed. “Look, I do appreciate what you’re trying to do, Beth, and I’m thankful that someone cares about me like you do, but I really need you to stop right now.”

“But this school, your life, this situation-”

“It sucks, yes, but I do have a plan!” Kit stressed.

“You… you do?”

“Yes,” Kit said, relaxing. “My parents don’t really respect LGBT stuff. Hell, Mum doesn’t even like me dressing as a tomboy. Girls wear dresses in her books, and Dad isn’t much better. It was a real revelation, wearing trousers for my costume. On top of that, the kids here aren’t that sympathetic, but I only need to endure a few more months.”

“Then what?”

“Then I graduate and can go to college! I’ve got my heart set on Greystoke University with a media studies course. It’s on the far side of the city. When I go, I can move into dorms, and then I can take the opportunity to reinvent myself. I can be myself there.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Beth. I’ll be out from under my parent’s roof, away from these classmates that would make fun of me, and hopefully find more people that understand what I’m going through. I can even start transitioning. I’m thinking of the name Keith. What do you think?”

“Suits you?” Beth guessed.

“We’ll see,” Kit shrugged. “But I’m fine right now, Beth. I’m not even that bothered about having to dress like a girl. I just wish I could wear trousers more often without getting an earful from my parents. But, after I move out, it’s their bridge to burn. They accept me or they don’t. I’ll live either way. But you… I think there’s something wrong with you, Beth?”

Beth looked panicked. She tried to smile but couldn’t. She wanted to run.

“Is this about Cobalt?” Kit said, right on the money.

Beth felt her heartrate spike and almost tried to fly off. But Kit grabbed her arm. It wasn’t like the teen could hold her down, but it might as well have been a lead weight.

“I… I don’t know,” Beth deflated.

“Look, you went through something rough,” Kit said, eyes full of kindness. “The woman who kidnapped you as a child is now trying to take over the city. And you had to face her! That’s something no one should have to deal with.”

“I can’t even look at her troops,” Beth said pathetically.

“Yep, psychology is mean like that,” Kit smirked. “Trauma is corrosive. You need to deal with this, and not,” he emphasised, “deal with me to try and avoid facing it.” His face softened again. “I know you want to help me, and that’s kind, but please can you go home? Go home and fix what’s going on with you.”

“I… really need to talk to someone about this, don’t I?” Beth finally admitted.

“Yeah, you do. Someone who understands. And if that needs to be me, then I’ll be in a mask on the rooftops tonight. I promise.”

Beth smiled slightly. “Could I message you?”

“Probably, but I don’t use the app much. I’m kind of banned from it. Remember the whole Anne-On thing, me pranking people? A psychologist’s field day, me using a second persona. And one with a girl’s name too?”

“Oh yeah. I’d forgotten that,” Beth recalled. “Um… I’ll give you my mobile number.”

“Sure.”

“And… I never got that photo for Sanctimony either?” Beth added, suddenly remembering herself.

Kit stared. “If all of this was for that-” he warned.

“Nope. I don’t think Sanctimony really cares anyway. I just… I really needed to help you. But you’re right. I think I have some problems to deal with myself,” Beth quavered.

“Yes, you do. And you need to talk to someone other than me. Someone more qualified,” Kit enforced. “At least speak to your dad, if no one else,” he added.

“I will. I really will. Thanks… Keith,” Beth smirked.

Despite himself, Kit smiled back, blushing.

“And…” Beth hesitated to add, but pressed on anyway. “And if you need anything, say a roof over your head in case anything goes wrong before you get to college?” she said with some concern. “Well, my house has a spare bed, if you need one. Just in case.”

Kit smiled wider. There was even a tiny tear in one eye. He wiped it away. “Thanks, Beth.”

“Katherine?” called a shrill voice. Beth and Kit sprang back from one another. “Katherine? Oh, there you are,” came a woman in a long dress, a woollen pullover, and a complete pearl necklace. In her face, she was just an older Kit.

“Hi, Mum,” Kit greeted.

“What are you doing down this alley with this… strange woman?” Mrs Dan’rous looked Beth over critically.

“She’s a friend from my night job. I mentioned I go to school here and she needed to tell me about an update to the rotor,” Kit said quickly.

“Really?” Mrs Dan’rous judged. “You and that job. Women shouldn’t work like that.”

“I think she’s a great employee,” Beth said casually. “Like a hero to me.”

“Would you say that?” the mother derided. Her scrutinising stopped on Beth’s trousers.

“We should get home,” Kit said quickly, moving to lead Mrs Dan’rous away. “And I’ll see you at work, Beth,” he called back.

“See you there, Kit.” Beth waved.

“Kit?” Mrs Dan’rous complained as she disappeared around the corner. “Who calls you a boy’s name like Kit?! Your name is Katherine-” And she was gone.

Beth was left alone in the alley. Seeing her work was done, she checked if anyone could see her, and confident they couldn’t, she flew off, up into the sky. She flew high and out of sight and away.

* * *

Beth eventually wound up back home, in through the bedroom window, as downstairs she could hear her mother preparing dinner. Realising she hadn’t eaten all day, she went down for a snack, just to warm her stomach up.

Both her parents were in the kitchen, sitting and talking. They went quiet when she came in. She tried to pretend she hadn’t noticed, but it was impossible not to. Their eyes had to be boring into her.

“Everything alright, sweetie?” her father asked.

Beth closed the fridge door. She knew she had to confront this.

“I’m alright… for the most part. Sorry about the other day.”

“Did you get everything sorted with the Deputy?” he checked.

“I did in the end. They- I mean he, is all good. No problems that can’t be fixed.” She smiled politely.

Both her parents looked back, eyes inquiring. And it honestly didn’t matter if they asked or not, because Beth felt like she might burst. She had to tell someone what happened, and she could trust her parents with a secret, surely.

“Just between us,” she began, “I discovered that… Deputy Dangerous is transgender. I was worried if he was alright, and… well, that’s what happened. He’s trans.”

Both parents stared, exchanged a look, then looked back to her.

Her father deflated with relief. “Oh my, is that all? You’ve had me worried, poppet!”

“You’re not… surprised or anything?” Beth queried.

“I’ve never really thought about it,” he admitted. “But good for him all the same. Always good for people to find themselves. One of your coworkers recently came out, didn’t they, love?” he turned to his wife.

“Oh yes. George became Georgia about three months back,” Mrs Mann said happily. “Her main concern was that she would suddenly get paid a woman’s wages rather than a man’s,” she joked. “In all seriousness though, we watch for that pay inequality stuff at our place. You’d be horrified what people get away with.”

“So, you two aren’t bothered by it?” Beth asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” her father said. “In fact, I think a fair number of heroes are… non-linear?” he said uncertainly.

“Non-binary, dear,” his wife corrected.

“That’s it. I’ve heard there’s a whole group on the app. Cartwheeler is they/them, I’ve heard Undead Woman is trans, and technically Sanctimony and Goody-Two-Shoes are non-binary too, though they do tend to lean towards the masculine. It’s a personal choice though.”

“Huh,” Beth processed.

“I can understand that you were worried though, about the Deputy, so you went to check on him. It was a noble thing to do.”

“I… might have gone a little too far,” Beth admitted.

“Perhaps,” her father conceded.

“Actually, I think I was trying to avoid something. Something I think I need to talk to you about,” she said, taking a seat.

“And what would that be?”

“I’m… I’m scared of Janice Cobalt and the Apocalypto Cult,” she said, tearing up as she let down the walls. “I can’t even look at them.”

Her father held her, and over dinner, they discussed what she was afraid of, and how they could help. A therapist was suggested, one who could really be relied on for security, which Beth agreed to. It might not solve the problem, but it would help. Even so, she took a lot of comfort in how her family had reacted to the news about the Deputy.