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It was early early early. Too early in the morning, if one could consider 3 am to be morning. Johnnie did, but only because it helped to be especially stringent with dates on paperwork so no one asked you to do it again. It was 3 am and April first. He’d gone to sleep when it was March and knew it was the first because his last thought before curling up next to his wife was that he’d probably be dragged from bed sooner than he’d have liked to answer prank calls.
“No one pranks the CIA,” he’d told Rose over dinner. “No one ever pranks the FBI.”
Rose had inclined her head understandably and speared another forkful of broccoli.
“I mean, yeah it sounds slightly ridiculous to complain this being where I work, but you know I’d like at least one April Fool’s Day -- which by the way,” he deviated, waiting for Rose to chew and jumping clean in before she had a chance to cut him off with reasoning, “is the most apt title for a holiday I can think of. No one even knows who St. Valentine is or St. Patrick and why the hell we drink on his holiday and give each other chocolate on the former. On April Fools, we know everything about that one. On the first, we’re all fools.”
Rose cleared her throat.
“Yeah,” he said indignantly, “everyone in my department!”
“We go through this on Mischief Night as well,” Rose reminded him gently. “And also on Halloween. And sometimes on Christmas and for some reason, always on New Years.”
“Well, I did say it was slightly ridiculous to complain considering where I work,” Johnnie replied with a more sour expression than before. “But I still get to complain. It’s one of the perks of my job besides a hot car.”
While Johnnie threw back the rest of his beer, Rose laughed. “I thought you were going to say “a hot wife.”
“What would be the problem with that?”
“For starters I’m not a perk of your job. Secondly, it would completely and totally undermine our relationship if I was so casually referred to as ‘the hot wife.’”
“It would be a compliment?” Johnnie began to attack his steak as though he’d never seen it before. He wasn’t especially hungry but alcohol on an empty stomach made him feel so old and grizzled. Old cops did that. Old guys who seemed superhuman in the most distasteful way. The kind of guys who ran the department and seemed to live on coffee, spite and the memories of the old days.
That wasn’t fair. He had no idea if any of them were closet alcoholics, but he had a feeling none of them ate dinner and spent their evenings at home polishing the guns they were allowed on their eyesight, shooting at whatever seemed to flap in the wind.
He liked the idea of being the new face of the department and in any case, Johnnie hated clichés. In this line of work, everything that hit you was a cliché. He liked the idea of radical thinking. Change was positive.
He swallowed his steak and waited for Rose to speak. Even his relationship was change. Rose was a chemist and didn’t know the first thing about guns or super villains. He seemed to lump these together as the ins and outs, the requisite accoutrements to his job. One supported the other. He chased villains, he carried a gun. Normal cops and agents carried guns and tracked down, respectively, criminals and people named after towns with the word “killer” tacked on. He carried a gun and tracked down people with names that started with The and ended with a pun regarding their choice of attire.
He was just a weird cop, but a member of law enforcement anyway.
And Rose didn’t know the first thing about his line of work and he liked it that way. Everyone suspected he’d marry someone close to home, a heroine of some sort. Like princes and princesses or a suitor for a debutante. “Take your pick, Mr. Lancaster -- they each have a power.”
The thought of having a super hero for a wife terrified him and in no way thrilled him. He was related to them, wasn’t that enough? So it was a bit of a shock to his family when he was engaged to a normal woman.
This was a positive change, he felt. His father had married a super hero, the super hero gave birth to a super hero and he was expected, in no uncertain terms, to carry on with that. He’d had plenty of girls catch his eyes, that was for sure. But as far as going the next step and even getting to know them? He wasn’t interested in that. He lost his virginity to a girl who shot fire from her eyes, which was interesting. It was like making love to a person with a fever and when they were finished, he never called her back.
Last he heard she was operating under the name Flame and was based in Chicago. His sister probably knew her.
Getting out of that trap was the first thing he did as an adult. Of course, joining the C.A.U. was a predicable move, but a wise one. Who knew loonies in costumes better than himself? Plus, leaning on familial expectations just a smidge was wise. He would’ve been miserable as a doctor, a lawyer.
Sometimes perhaps things don’t change.
His thoughts were always shifted to the nature of change when he looked at Rose. She represented his new life. She didn’t approve of superheroism simply because of the fact that she was practical. Scientists were like that; if it wasn’t explained or fixed through science, it didn’t exist. Which was a valid point, but.
She cleared her throat, setting her fork down with a clatter and said, “Sure a compliment, but without me a lot of things wouldn’t be possible. I am more than your hot wife.”
“What, are you my savior?”
In a move seemingly immune to his acrid tongue, she laughed and said, “Of course I am.”
“Here I was thinking I didn’t marry a superhero.”
“You don’t need a cape to save someone’s life.”
She drained the rest of her water glass and smiled. “I am joking, you know.”
“So was I.” He winced. “Well, marginally.”
Rose raised an eyebrow. “About which part?”
“That you were just my hot wife.” He gave her a sideways grin.
She returned the smile and then pushed out her chair. “You know, it’s not an insult.”
“Okay, you are hot and smart and perfect. Better?”
Johnnie smiled apologetically as soon as the words left his mouth.
Better change.
[This is not all of chapter 1 obvs.]