Beacon of Hope



Chapter Fifteen

DISCLAIMER :: This fanfiction is based on Superman from DC Comics. All rights reserved. Art by CWBlaine on Deviant Art.
Author's note: Perhaps it is the start of a new collaborative universe or a standalone project for myself. I don't know, yet.

(( Chapter Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YV4oYkIeGJc ))

Exposure has consequences. Always. Mine was no different. There were cellphone videos, amateur photos, news reports, and online threads that went on for miles. I think I broke the internet. Every single news outlet was covering what happened. It was unfortunately overshadowing the single largest coordinated protest in the history of the United States. It did not sit well with me that people were debating whether or not Warner Brothers Discovery should sue me because of my suit rather than discuss the impact of "No Kings Day". Legacy media had failed once again to cover the real story. Instead, they defaulted to the old habits of getting as many clicks to their websites and YouTube videos over doing any actual journalism.

In new media, however, it was a different story. The podcast bros were talking about how hot I looked in the suit and wanted to guess how old I was. Gross. The Twitch commentators were asking why I confronted AVS and seemed to bow before Chicago PD. YouTube gamer-chair pundits wanted to know why I thought I had the authority to act in the way that I did. The more serious commentators across all platforms simply wanted to know why I was doing what I was doing. They wanted to get to the heart of my motivations. They were the ones doing the real journalism. An incredibly small channel that did YouTube and TikTok content with about twenty thousand subscribers called "The Planet Daily" expressed interest in an interview. I may take the girl who is the face of the channel up on her invitation someday.

The nicknames wouldn't stop, either. TMZ was calling me "Cape Girl". BuzzFeed was calling me "Blue-Eyed Savior" for some reason. That felt creepy. US Today was referring to me as "The Flying Wonder". The New York Times got real creative with "The Girl in the Cape". My old employer, the Chicago Tribune, was calling me "Windy City Wonder"–for which I appreciated their poetic alliteration. The Washington Post asked the question "America's First Superwoman?", which was no doubt going to have some lawyers calling them soon. CNN wanted to call me "The Sky Angel" for whatever reason. The BBC echoed them but mixed it up with "The Chicago Angel". The "big three"–ABC, NBC, and CBS–were calling me "The Miracle in Chicago" while recalling all I'd done so far. Fox News, Newsmax, and OAN–on the other hand–were calling me "Super Girl" with all the dripping disdain and malice they could muster. I don't think they cared about getting sued over that one.

The hashtags were much more humorous: #SuperShero, #SkyGirl, #SuperNotMan, #PunchLikeAGirl (with a GIF of my arm going through the APC), #CapeGoals, #FasterThanCoffee, #FasterThanYourEx, #CapeNotOptional, #CapeChick, and #HeatVisionAndChill. They made me giggle, at least. Madison sent me a link to a post on Reddit which had the subject line of "Chicago Just Got Its Own Superhero IRL?!" Many of the comments were positive and congratulatory. Others were mean-spirited. Still, others were creepy and not safe for work. That's the internet for you: it will never surprise you with its vile or downright hilarious denizens.

After sifting through social media for about half an hour in the evening, I curled up on the couch and turned on the news like I would when I was a teenager–the first time. Koda curled up next to me and laid his head in my lap. My mother had made some lemonade and it sat in a tall glass beside me with an ice cube inside. Flipping through the channels, it was obvious that the news cycle hadn't given up on my appearance at the "No Kings" march, even after three days. It would be nice if they dropped that and moved onto some real news.

A phone ring came to my ear. It wasn't the phone laying on the table right next to me. That was the phone I'd had all along. No, this one was the burner phone Lauren had given me. With a groan, I gently got up off the couch, much to Koda's dismay, and moved toward my bedroom. I still hadn't cleaned it up much but at least I had cleared out all the musty old clothes from the 1990s and replaced them with my current wardrobe. The phone in question sat on the bedside table, charging. Unplugging the cord from the base of the phone, I tapped the green button and put the phone to my ear.

"Hey, Lauren, howsbyyou?" I answered the phone.

First, I heard a groan. Then her voice. "Lord, it's been too long since I've been home." She chuckled. "Not why I'm calling, though. I've got some information you might want."

"Oh, yea? What's that?"

"I've been doing some digging. It's pretty hard to find these things, but I'm tracking a plane connected to ICE's deportations."

My heart nearly stopped. "You're not gonna get in trouble for this, right?"

"Please. I cover my tracks better than the CIA."

"Where's the plane goin'?"

"Seattle. Boeing Field. Officially, it's 'King County International Airport' but nobody's ever called it that."

"How do I find it? I've never been to Washington State."

"Well, you'll see Seattle pretty well from the air. Puget Sound is pretty big and there's no big cities further west of there. You know what the Space Needle looks like, right?"

"I might have seen it on a postcard about twenty years ago."

Lauren sighed. "Google it. It's iconic. You can't miss the thing. Once you see it, look to the south. The big airport, SeaTac, is oriented due north and south. Boeing Field, however, is oriented at an angle–140 degrees when you approach from the north and 320 from the south. It's right alongside a railroad and I-5. You'll see it."

"When's this plane supposed to be there?"

"Expected landing at about 7pm local time."

I pulled the phone away from my ear and checked the time: 8:32pm Sheboygan time. "That gives me twenty minutes."

"And you can fly faster than an SR-71. Your point?" She scoffed. "There's people counting on you."

I groaned. "You're right." I sighed, then tapped the red button on the phone.

As suggested, I pulled up a photo of the Space Needle and committed the structure to memory as I got dressed. Koda looked on from the door to my bedroom tilting his head from side to side, trying to assess exactly what I was up to. When my suit was on, I turned around to see Koda looking somber and whimpering. Pets really have a way with pulling on your heartstrings. I gave him a good rub and promised to be back as soon as I could. Before leaving, I asked Týr to check in on Koda and he agreed. Problem solved, I took to the air.

At this point, I was rather amateurish with my flight patterns. Pilots worth their salt will account for the curvature of the planet as they plan their routes. I'm the moron that started heading due west. It was fine for a while. I watched plains and mountains move underneath me at break-neck speed. There were a multitude of cities and towns beneath me, but nothing approaching "major city" scale. When I got closer to the Pacific Coast and saw the ocean beyond a valley with a winding ribbon of water, I started to think I was going the wrong way. Looking northward, the river got wider as it traveled through urban areas. Slowing down, I turned north and willed myself faster once again. I passed over a big city that lay near two big rivers. That had to be Portland. Further north, I began to see the bottom edge of what I would recognize as Puget Sound. Now, I knew roughly where I was going. If I followed the ribbon of asphalt known as Interstate 5, I would eventually arrive in Seattle. That got harder to do once I came upon the seemingly unified city sprawl between Olympia and Seattle.

Flying lower, I was able to follow the interstate more easily. In no time at all, I passed two airports and began to see the skyline of the Emerald City. To my left, I saw the Space Needle in person for the first time in my life. Lovely building, but it meant I'd gone too far north. I spun around and headed southward once more. Further south, I could see the due north and south strips of asphalt that Lauren had called "SeaTac" and the slightly slanted double strips of a smaller airport–Boeing Field. I decided to stop and hover in an effort to get a lay of the land. It must have been quite a sight for drivers on the interstate to see me hanging there in the air with the golden hour sun shining on me.

Looking over the buildings, there were quite a few of them. At least I could tell you which one was the control tower. The others, I was not as sure about. One thing that stuck out to me, however, was a figure clad in denim and black on the roof of one of the buildings. On the tarmac below, a plain white aircraft with no decal markings at all sat with idling engines surrounded by six white vans and two SUVs. Quickly, I zipped over and landed behind the figure, which appeared to be female with brown hair, and crouched down.

"Hey, there!" I shout-whispered.

She spun around and looked at me. She was wearing what appeared to be a black, one-piece swimsuit with fishnet stockings under a denim bordello jacket and shorts. Her hands were clad in black, fingerless gloves and her feet in black Doc Marten boots. The third of her face surrounding her hazel eyes was covered in a black domino mask. From the moment she looked at me, she appeared angry.

"Who the fuck are you?!" She shout-whispered the question to me.

I crawled closer. "I would hope I'm a friend. What's going on?"

Then, it dawned on her. "You're that chick from Chicago, aren't you?!"

"It's my usual haunt, yes. Can we focus? What's going on?"

She turned over and resumed watching the scene from her belly. "Welcome to the reality of our country, right now. This is what an ICE deportation flight looks like. See the people down below going up the stairs with their hands and legs linked together by chains? Those are probably innocent people." She pointed at one person in particular. "That's a twelve year old girl. They've got her chained up like she's some kind of Hannibal Lecter or something. This is disgusting."

My eyes narrowed in anger. "We have to do something."

"Easier said than done, big girl. We can't all smash our fists through engine blocks or tank electro-nets like they're nothing, y'know."

"Well, I'm here to help. You have a plan?"

She smirked. "Well, now that I have Superman with tits to hang with, I might have a chance of freeing these people."

"Please don't call me that."

"What else am I supposed to call you? Windy City Wonder? Sky Girl? Super Teen? Are you going to let the media name you or are you going to grab a name and take it?"

I shook my head. "Just call me 'friend' for now. I haven't come up with anything, yet, okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. You ready to be an accessory to a federal crime?"

"I'm here to do what's right."

She chuckled. "Girl Scouts' honor?" Again, she rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll take out the out-of-shape guards. You disable the plane then free the people. I saw a bus further down the tarmac. Maybe we can use that to get the people out of here. How's your Spanish?"

"Non-existent."

"Fine, I'll do the linguistic heavy lifting while you do all the other heavy lifting. Deal?"

With a curt nod, we executed the plan. Only one sure way to disable the plane came to my mind. As if on cue, one unexpected variable entered the area: black SUVs marked with the unmistakable symbol for American Vanguard Solutions. While the girl that seemed to be my compatriot scurried down from the roof, I watched them. Six armed guards and three people in chains exited the vehicles. The intentions of AVS were becoming more clear. Like ICE, they were kidnapping people but these people were under suspicion for having powers.

With a single leap, I was in the air a good few meters. My eyes narrowed in on my target and I bolted forward with a sonic boom cracking behind me. Orienting myself at this speed wasn't as difficult as one might think. I lined myself up with the engine on the port side of the aircraft and, with my fist forward, flew right through it. The thing threw sparks and smoke as I smashed it out the back end of its housing. Executing a lateral loop-de-loop, I did the same thing to the starboard side engine. With both engines completely disabled, the plane wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

That's when the screeches started. They hurt. A lot. Apparently, my new friend's power was that she screamed at such a pitch with enough force that it created a powerful soundwave. It was an overpowered sonic weapon that I'm sure the US military might love to get their hands on. For me and my super hearing, it disoriented me a bit and actually hurt my ears a little. For the masked federal agents on the ground, it knocked them on their butts and broke the windows in their vehicles. ICE agents and AVS operatives both pulled weapons and started screaming at her to surrender.

Coming to a running landing on the ground, the world around me slowed to a crawl. I ran to each person with a firearm and relieved them of said weapon. I carried those weapons some distance away and unceremoniously dropped them in a dumpster. Returning to the scene, the world caught back up with me and resumed normal speed. The agents and operatives looked around confused that they'd been relieved of their weapons. My new friend didn't waste any time considering situational awareness. She simply started throwing punches and kicks like a seasoned fighter. It was impressive for a few seconds before I joined the fray. Týr had taught me to monitor the amount of force I was putting in each hit because there's no doubt I could Mortal Kombat some people if I didn't. I resorted to utilizing open palm strikes against the body armor to subdue the AVS operatives and clear the way to their captives. It seemed to work as they no doubt had the wind knocked out of them.

Starting with the AVS captives, I ripped the cuffs off every person in chains. It was like pulling apart Playdoh. From the tarmac to on board the plane, people were being freed at break-neck speed. The flight crew and flight attendants did not stop me. There were a couple of agents already on board the plane that tried but received an open palm strike to their "bulletproof" vests. One guy who pulled a gun flew back a few feet. In the back of my mind, I hoped he was going to be okay. It was and never shall be my goal to kill, merely to incapacitate. Moving through the plane and freeing people, I did my best to communicate.

"Everyone that can speak English, follow me and please translate for our non-English-speaking friends that I mean no harm and I'm here to help get you people out of here safely." I announced. A flurry of speech followed in my wake, mostly in Spanish.

Exiting the main hatch to the stairs, my eyes caught sight of my new friend breathing laboredly and many unconscious men around her. There was a lot of blood splatter around, which alarmed me.

"What the hey, dude!? We're not here to kill anyone! What's with all the blood!?" I shouted.

She scoffed before yelling back. "Relax, Blue Streak, I didn't kill anybody. They've had a beating like this coming for months. I just let out some aggression, okay?"

Rolling my eyes, I pointed to the cabin behind me. "I've got about forty people coming out."

"Good. Sounds like we'll need that bus. Be a dear and fetch it, please? I'll do the talking."

"How can we help?" One of the three former AVS captives spoke up, yelling toward me.

My finger pointed at my compatriot. "She's going to need help talking to people if any of you can speak Spanish. Maybe, if one of you can drive a bus, you can help get these people to safety."

Nods were exchanged in agreement and I jumped upward before engaging my flight. Heading in the direction that my new friend had indicated, I did indeed find a bus sitting on the tarmac. It was a white prison bus, but it may have to do. Hopping inside for a moment, I confirmed the keys were indeed in the ignition. Starting the bus was easy enough but I had no idea how to work the controls. Climbing back out of the bus, I scooted myself underneath it. Thankfully, the frame of a bus is easy enough to figure out. With arms on each beam of the frame, I started from a kneeling position and pushed upward. The whole bus lifted off the ground as I did so. It felt like a 10-pound barbell used to. It was at that moment that I really started to contemplate how strong I actually was.

Slowly lifting into the air and floating over to the location of the blank white airplane, I must have looked like every hero shot featuring Superman in the history of film. There was no interest on my part to look like that, but the faces of the people below me certainly reflected it. Getting to a clear spot, I set about making a soft landing and setting the bus' tires back down on the tarmac. Crawling out from under the bus, I started to hear sirens that I feared were approaching. They were quite a distance away, so not an immediate threat. The rescued migrants cheered. I simply offered a warm smile and a nod. One of the former AVS captives started ushering people onto the bus.

"Sirens are coming. We should hurry." I informed those around me.

"What? I don't hear anything." My new friend, the brunette, responded.

I leveled a blank look at her and tapped an ear with a finger. "Super hearing." To the ones ushering people onto the bus. "When you get clear of the gate, head south. They're coming from somewhere downtown."

When everyone was on board the bus, the doors closed and it started to move. One zip over to the gates, I used my heat vision to disable the lock and get them open. Within moments, we were staring at the rear end of the bus heading southward. Forty people were saved today, but there were still thousands in ICE custody under conditions they really didn't want the public knowing about.

"I go by 'Feedback', by the way." My new friend stated plainly, watching the bus leave.

"Pleasure to meet you, Feedback." I answered with a small smile. "I can't say that I approve of the methods, but I think your heart's in the right place."

She shrugged. "Those who would make peaceful revolution impossible make violent revolution inevitable. John Fitzgerald Kennedy."

I sighed. "Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King, Junior."

"Geezus, you are a fucking Girl Scout, aren't you?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Boy Scout. Eagle Scout, to be exact. Proud of it."

She nodded very slowly. "Oh, you're one of those. There's even a couple like you right here in Seattle. They're looking into options to reverse what the 'Event' did to us, but with the current administration's actions, the stochastic terrorism that's reached a fever pitch, and all the other hurdles that have come along it's a hard road." She let out a sigh. "Look, Blue, I know the struggle more than you think. I used to be there, myself. I wasn't always this young, pretty, and lithe, y'know?" She started walking northward. "Join me in my car? I'll tell you more, but we have to bolt before those other thugs get here."

I raised an eyebrow as I followed behind her. "What did you mean by all that?"

"The Pulse thing changed you, right? It did that to a lot of us. Take me, for example: sixty-some years old, audio engineer, former jazz vocalist before smoking ruined my pipes, and reminiscing about my glory days in martial arts tournaments. Ralph Macchio played 'The Karate Kid', but I was 'The Karate Kid' back in the '80s. Forty-seven national and international titles, my friend." She let out a sigh. "Your body gives up after a while and when I couldn't hide behind the machismo anymore, I transitioned in my forties. My broke ass could never get any surgeries or anything, so I kinda felt stuck. I always wondered what I'd have looked like if I'd been born female."

We arrived at a positively ancient, green Dodge Neon. She pulled out her keys and unlocked the driver side, then climbed in. Leaning over to the passenger side, she unlocked the passenger door. Accepting the unspoken invitation, I sat down in the passenger seat, moved my cape to a comfortable position, and closed the door. She closed her door as well, letting out a breath.

"Now," she started, "I find myself in the body of a nineteen year old, fully female version of myself. It's a dream come true for somebody like me, but I can see how it might be an absolute fucking nightmare for someone else. What about you, Blue?"

"Why are we sitting here? Shouldn't we be following the bus and make sure everybody's safe?" I wondered.

"They're gonna be okay. We're gonna wait for that goon squad you said you heard to pass so we don't look suspicious. Now, stop obfuscating and answer the question, please."

Letting out a long sigh, I stared forward through the windshield to the rail tracks across the road. "I was coming home after a conference. I was a corporate PR guy who was basically dead inside. My job used to mean something when I worked at the Tribune."

"The Chicago Tribune? Newspaper guy? For real?"

I nodded quickly. "I got laid off about ten years ago. In my forty-five years on this planet, I was told I had to put my head down and provide for the family, so I did. I got a loving wife and three beautiful girls out of the deal. I had a great house and a great family. It was just the job I couldn't stand. Made me feel numb to the world. Still do, in some ways. I never even thought about whether or not I'm a man. This happened and... I dunno... my folks always taught me to do your best with what you're given, but I don't know which end is up sometimes."

She nodded in understanding. "I get that. My kids are grown. They don't need me anymore. How old are your girls?"

A small, proud smile creased my lips. "The oldest is eighteen. Just graduated high school. Then, fifteen and nine."

"Ouch. Sounds like they still need you. That's gotta be rough."

"Yea." Finally, I turned to her with tears welling up in my eyes. "It hurts, but not as much as the love of your life telling you she doesn't want to share a bed with you anymore." I hung my head. "I live back with my mom, now. Same house, same farm I grew up on."

"Wow... that's rough." She took a deep breath. "Kinda makes sense that you're out here doing what you're doing, though. I mean, the parallels to a fictional character made up by two Jewish boys in Cleveland are uncanny."

"I'm even Jewish, too. By heredity, not religion." I chuckled.

"Shut the front door! Seriously?! Fuck, this universe and its sense of humor are beyond human capacity to ever fully grasp! Jewish farm boy turned journalist with a great marriage and loving kids that's granted all these amazing powers? You're a Siegel and Schuster wet dream!" She laughed.

I smirked. "You can't tell anyone, but my last name is Kent. I'm not even kidding."

She threw her head back and laughed with her whole chest. "Fuck, I gotta pee, now!"

She climbed out of the car, barely able to breathe from laughing so hard. She walked to a nearby business to relieve herself and there was a convoy of unmarked vehicles with lights and sirens passing when she returned. We got a little more cordial and I actually told her the name my mother had given me, Kristen Kent. She laughed again at the spot-on alliteration. She told me the name she had chosen for herself, Jenna Mills. In all honesty, it was incredibly refreshing to connect with someone that had endured the changes of this whole situation that I hadn't known before.

After waiting a few minutes when the convoy fully passed by, she started the car and drove us northbound. She offered me a tour of Seattle hosted by a local, but I politely declined and took a raincheck. Some day soon, I'd like to take her up on it, but I needed to get back to "my own turf". She understood. I gave her the number to the burner phone and asked her to text me sometime. She agreed. I had a feeling this was going to be the start of an interesting friendship.

Jenna drove to a more secluded area of the Industrial District in the city before she pulled over to let me out. She couldn't guarantee we hadn't been caught on camera at the airport, but I could leave from here as discreetly as possible. I slowly floated upward as we said our good-byes. Then, I turned skyward and accelerated. I knew I had to head eastward to get home. However, my navigation skills were still terrible.

I almost ended up in Canada. The Upper Peninsula of Michigan is pretty this time of year. There's a reason we go camping up there, donchaknow.