Nobody's Hero

Author's Note:

See Pt. 1 for blurb. Also, if you haven't already read Pt's 1-3, I strongly recommend doing so before proceeding.

All sensuality (on page or otherwise) takes place between characters who are eighteen or older.

Copyright © 2024 Jake Lazarus

All rights reserved.

This book, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the author (except for the use of brief quotations in a review).

This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, businesses, products, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Thirty-Five

"Two girlfriends!" Eli exploded, shattering the relative calm of the mostly empty gymnasium.

"Would you keep it down?" Hugo hissed as his gaze flitted in the direction of the group of youths huddled around a single phone watching a video which was evidently the height of modern comedy, at least according to the frequent bursts of laughter emanating from the collective. "Yes," he added once Eli's expression demonstrated sufficient remorse. "I am, in fact, in love with two women. Since they're also in love with each other, we're all in a relationship now."

"Wait... so does that mean that they..." Eli's eyes flicked toward the young men sitting across the room as he fell silent. He then made a peace sign with each of his hands and fit the two V-shapes together, his eyebrows waggling suggestively as he mimicked what could only be described as a pair of scissors who were

very

well acquainted.

Hugo groaned, shaking his head. "You're such a cretin."

"Come on, dude!" Eli chortled. "You swore to me that you didn't even date. Now you're hooking up with two chicks at the same time!"

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything," Hugo snapped as he turned to stalk away.

"Hey!" Eli yelped as he caught up just as Hugo exited the gym. "Take it easy, bro. I'm just bustin' your balls a bit. I ain't makin' fun of you or nothing."

"That's not the point. Say what you will about me. I could give a shit. But I won't stand for you casting aspersions on them."

"Only thing I said about them which could even be considered remotely negative was the fact that they're with

you

. Fuck, dude. You're living the God damn dream. Truth be told, I'm jealous as hell. I sure as fuck wish I could find even

one

woman who could put up with me."

Hugo stared at him for a long moment before sighing and offering a wry grin. He gestured to Eli's shirt, which featured a stoned-looking alien with the caption 'TAKE ME TO YOUR DEALER', and said, "Hard to imagine what they find so objectionable."

"Dude. Low blow."

"Hugo?" Will called softly from the opposite end of the darkened hallway. "A moment?"

After handing off the clipboard he held to Eli, Hugo made his way to Will's office. Upon entering, he took a seat and said, "What's up?"

"Can you close the door?"

"Um... ok." After pushing the door closed, Hugo returned his attention to the youth center administrator. His mood fell when he noticed Will's grim expression. He glanced around in a subconscious effort to find the cause for his friend's disquiet but found nothing of note. At length, he spoke with a conspiratorial tone. "What's wrong?"

"We've had some complaints," Will sighed in frustration.

"The pavement on the basketball court?" Hugo guessed.

"They concerned you, Hugo."

"Because I was gone for a few days? I just took a quick vacation."

"God dammit," Will muttered. "I fuckin' hate people."

"What's going on, Will?"

"There's been a bunch of stories online... about everything that's been happening to you, and to people around you. They suggest that maybe you're somehow responsible for some of the crazy shit that's been going on."

"And you believe that?" Hugo huffed.

"Of course not, brother. I admit some of the stuff you've been involved in recently is pretty insane, and

very

hard to believe. But it would take something

way

bigger than you somehow surviving being executed by miraculously turning into a superhero to make

me

begin to doubt the kind of person you are."

"Thanks," Hugo grunted as he swiped his hand over his unexpectedly misty eyes.

"But," Will continued, "I also can't afford to ignore the concerns of so many of the parents of our kids. Especially considering the fact that I'm guessing you're not very keen on the idea of bringing all of them in so you can explain your powers."

"That wouldn't be my first choice, no."

"Listen, brother. I really want to tell the ones who insist that your presence here puts their kids in danger that they're out of their fucking minds. But... are they?"

Hugo's sigh carried the weight of the world. He looked up from his clasped hands and murmured, "You know I'd do anything to keep them safe, Will. But I honestly don't know for certain that some of what's been happening, especially recently, isn't targeted at me specifically."

"So, where's that leave us?"

"I guess it leaves you down a volunteer," Hugo groaned as he got to his feet and reached for the door.

"Wait," Will said with firm conviction. Hugo turned to face him but did not take his seat. "Listen. Between you and me, what the hell

is

going on?"

"I already told you everything. After I got shot, this angel visited me and said I was being given a second chance, and that I'd have help. These devices which assist me during these calamities are that help. In a manner of speaking."

"You know I wouldn't believe word one of this fantastical bullshit if I hadn't seen you in the hospital with a hole in your head..."

"Two holes, if memory serves."

"Exactly. If I hadn't seen that, and then had you walk into my office the next day; not only not dead, but in perfect health... I'd think you were a world-class con artist. Not to mention an asshole."

"Hence why I'm not anxious to hold a town hall with people whose minds are likely made up already."

"What about all the crazy shit that's been happening? The local news ran a story last night which was basically a clip show for this influencer whose apparently got a bug up her ass about you. She's coming as close as libel laws allow to saying that you're the reason all this shit's happening."

"How in the hell would I cause a hundred-year flood?" Hugo complained.

"Her veiled accusations start at the incident on the bridge. But she very clearly implied that you orchestrated both that and the business at the concert."

"That's such bullshit! I was nearly killed both times. The second one even sent me to the hospital. Unconscious, I might add."

"I ain't the one makin' accusations here," Will protested, his hands raised in surrender. "Just passing along why folks are nervous. Which brings us back to our little impasse. They're scared about you being here..."

"Then I'm gone," Hugo muttered as he again opened the door, leaving the office before Will could make another token defense.

***

"Revisiting our main story for this evening," the bleach-blonde newsreader enthused, "new information has come to light today suggesting that the horrific incident two weeks ago on the Market Street bridge, in addition to the near-tragedy at the Chattanooga Music Festival, were in fact caused by none other than Hugo van der Mewre, the notorious fake hero lauded for stopping each event. Our sources suggest that Mr. Van der Mewre, an immigrant drifter who invaded our fair city just a few years ago, is in fact a criminal mastermind; and that these tragedies are just building up to a larger calamity where he plans to demand a hefty ransom before pretending to intervene.

"In other news, famed tech billionaire Korben Lundberg announced today that he has sold another division of his fantastically successful..."

"What the actual fuck!" Hugo grunted as he clicked off the tiny television and leaned back in the ancient, not to mention noisy, desk chair.

He stared at the darkened walls of Derek's office as though the calendar distributed by an oil filter manufacturer would contain the answer to his conundrum, but the purportedly soothing pencil drawing of a covered bridge stood mute. It was nearly midnight, and he had spent the four hours since leaving the youth center holed up in his boss's office in hopes of crafting a strategy to combat what he now realized was a concerted effort to sow discord and fear amongst his fellow citizens, all of which was being expertly pointed in his direction.

His attention was pulled away from his frustration by a noise in the waiting room. He reached for Artoo, only to be reminded that he had left both his trusty device and his watch in his truck, itself still parked dozens of blocks away at the youth center. Absent his normal means of surveillance, Hugo rose from the desk and made his way through the office making as little noise as possible. Gripping the doorknob, he pulled it upward to prevent it dragging against the floor and opened it slowly.

"Hugo?" a sweet mezzo soprano voice whispered fiercely.

He relaxed his body and groaned, "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," Carrie snapped snippily. "Obviously. The better question is... what are

you

doing here?"

"Research," Hugo deflected.

"You could have done research at Carrie's place," Faith murmured.

"But he didn't want to come to my place," Carrie seethed. "Did you? Loverboy."

Hugo could only shake his head in sorrow as he moved to retake his seat.

"What are you talking about?" Faith asked slowly.

"Why do you think he left Artoo and his watch in his truck, babe? He's trying to avoid us."

"Hang on a minute," Hugo protested. "That's not what I'm doing."

"Bull! Shit!" Carrie growled.

"Why are you so upset?" Faith sobbed.

"Because he found out some

bitch

is spreading lies about him online. So,

of course

, his first thought was to abandon us."

"I just wanted to..."

"I know," Carrie interrupted. "You wanted to protect us. Did it genuinely not occur to you that we could help you?

Fuck

, Hugo! You're so God damned selfish sometimes!"

"Please, honey," Faith pleaded, her hand finding Carrie's as a tear rolled down her cheek. "I'm sure he was just trying to keep us safe."

Carrie sighed, her anger fading in favor of a somber loneliness which Hugo found even more gutting. "I know he is," she whispered tearfully. "I just wish he'd trust us, like he fucking

swore

he would when he claimed to love us."

"I

do

love you," Hugo implored. "Both of you."

"Then why do you keep acting as though the solution to every problem is for you to be alone?" Carrie shouted.

"Because I can't bear the thought of something happening to either of you," he replied with a choked voice. "You'd both have been better off never meeting me."

"Don't," Faith said, her voice shaking as she stabbed a finger into his chest. "Don't you dare say that to me. To us. You told us you loved us, Hugo. Do you know how many people have told me that? How many have lied to me?"

"I swear on the soul of my father, I have never lied to you... to either of you. I love you more than life itself. I would die before hurting you."

"Then why are you shutting us out?"

His shoulders slumped in defeat. "I already told you."

"You've got two choices here, Hugo," Carrie interjected. "Either you truly love us; meaning you'll allow us to love you and stand by you through thick and thin. Or you're just another bastard liar. So, what's it gonna be?"

Her eyes bore into him with a mixture of hope and fear. And while he took some small measure of comfort from the former, the latter was like a dagger to his soul. A tear rolled down his cheek as he breathed, "I love you. I will always love you."

Carrie pulled him close with a desperation that he understood with every fiber of his being. He pulled Faith into their embrace, a chattering sigh escaping his lips as he felt their love surround him.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "So very sorry."

Faith looked up at him and murmured, "Say it again."

"I'm sorry," he replied resolutely.

"No," she sighed. "The

important

part."

"I love you both so very, very much."

"Oh, babe," Faith sighed.

"You swear you won't try to shut us out again?" Carrie sobbed.

"With all that I am."

She gestured with her head toward Derek's desk. "Then tell us what's got you so God damned overcome with nobility and self-sacrifice."

"It's Ben's mom," Hugo admitted somberly.

"That kid who you rescued from being kidnapped by his absentee father?"

Hugo nodded sadly. "She did an interview with... Maria. She told her that I had no cause to quote, unquote, attack her ex-husband, and that Ben has been in therapy ever since over the trauma of seeing his father, how did she put it... brutally beaten in front of him."

"That fucking cunt," Carrie growled. "She told everyone who would listen that you saved her son after the incident. Forget for the moment why she changed her story. The bigger question is: what's her game? Especially considering no one could possibly believe her at this point?"

"She was actually interviewed by one of the local stations this evening," Faith pointed out. "Maria, not Ben's mom. She claimed that the cops are seeking you for questioning. Obviously, it's complete bullshit, because you're basically at your apartment, and we didn't see any cops outside."

"How do you already know about this?" Hugo asked in wonder.

"What the fuck do you think we've been doing all day?" Carrie griped. "Wally and Delores started pinging us about this smear campaign shortly after you left for work. So, we spent the day finding out what was going on."

"And?" Hugo asked after a pregnant pause.

"This is way beyond a silly tart like Maria," Faith replied. "We're talking about a concerted campaign across multiple platforms. Her first post since before we went to the Caribbean was posted this morning at one AM. It had gone viral by the time the sun came up and gained enough attention that she was on the noon news program of the largest affiliate in town. By dinner time, she was on all the channels, and she was booked to do a few spots on national cable news. The simple fact is that she's never shown a hundredth the savvy and resourcefulness something like this would have required. Ergo, she's getting help. A lot of it."

"Like the kind of help a billionaire tech mogul could provide," Hugo concluded.

Carrie nodded emphatically. "Exactly. We always knew he wouldn't be content to just take the 'L' after the Dominican Republic. I guess we now know his next move."

"Which only leaves the question of what you're going to do in response," Faith finished.

He smiled crookedly in their direction before saying, "You mean what

we

are going to do."

Thirty-Six

"Is that really all of it?" Hugo sighed as he stacked a fourth box on the floor by the door to his apartment.

"Yes," Artoo answered in a flat tone.

"Three years living in this apartment... and I've accumulated a grand total of four boxes of stuff?"

"Insufficient data."

"Thanks," he grunted. "You've been very helpful."

He stretched his back and surveyed the now-empty apartment, marveling at the juxtaposition between how little his life had changed between his honorable discharge from the military leading up to when he had been shot, compared to the cataclysmic upheaval his life had undergone since. The fact that he had, in less than a fiscal quarter: died from a gunshot wound, met an angel, aligned himself with two ethereal beings capable of making supremely powerful nanobots, met not one but two women who exceeded every dream he had never dared to conjure with respect to a potential partner, met one of the world's richest men, fallen in love with the aforementioned women, made an enemy of the aforementioned man, and agreed to move in with his now-lovers; only missed being beyond his capability for rationalization because he had lived every moment of the fantastical adventure.

Never one to linger on the past, Hugo shook off his ruminations and began the brief process of carrying the entirety of his belongings out to his truck. Job done; he made his way into the auto shop to drop his keys off with Derek. He found his boss in the pit, draining the oil out of an ancient station wagon.

"Done so soon?" Derek grunted without taking his eyes from his work.

"Turns out I have basically no belongings," Hugo joked.

"Maybe not for long. Them ladies of yours certainly seem like the gift-giving types."

"They already bought me a ton of clothes when I told them that I just had a week's worth."

"Hey Derek?" a young voice called out. "I got this lady in the waiting room who says she needs a tire rotation. I told her she was a moron, and that her tires rotate every time she goes some place, but she's refusing to leave."

A man of no more than twenty entered the pit. He had the appearance of someone who spent the entirety of his school years playing sports and looking for likely victims for physical intimidation, only to find himself with no college prospects and no viable job skills upon barely managing to secure a diploma. Hugo turned his head slowly from the newcomer to Derek, his eyes opening wider with each passing second.

Derek shook his head in dismay. "You told me your daddy taught you everything there was to know about auto repair."

"He did!"

"But you ain't never heard of a tire rotation? Heard of an oil change?"

"That's when you, um, I mean, you change... the oil?"

"You said you can still work a few days a week," Derek prompted hopefully. "Right?"

Hugo opened his mouth to answer, but an insistent buzzing from his pocket interrupted him. He held up a finger in Derek's direction as he extracted Artoo to find a '

MISSION BRIEFING

' notification.

He looked back to his frequent boss and sometimes mentor helplessly, prompting the latter to say, "Go!"

Hugo walked quickly from the building as he tapped on the notification. He was confronted with sporadic video of passenger jets, but it was soon apparent that something was quite wrong as they were moving about in a manner not unlike what one would expect from a teen driving school run by a recidivist drunk driver on work release. Chaos reigned as planes stopped and started seemingly at random, rapidly working themselves into a traffic snarl worthy of an arena parking lot following a sold-out concert.

Just as he got his truck moving, Artoo chirped to notify him of an incoming call.

"Babe?" Faith asked hesitantly. "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah. Listen, there's something happening..."

"We know," she interrupted. "Carrie is in her office, and I ducked into the storage room."

"Oh."

"I thought we were past this lone gunslinger bullshit," Carrie deadpanned.

"I'm not suggesting I don't appreciate your help..."

"Later," Carrie interrupted, although Hugo noted her voice contained none of the heat he had expected. "We need to figure out how to handle this. Or did you forget that you distracted us with your exquisite cock last night when we were

supposed

to be discussing tactical roles and responsibilities."

"I distracted you?" Hugo chuckled. "Refresh my memory, who was it who took off all her clothes and started rubbing her pussy when I was at the white board."

"I wasn't playing with myself," Carrie retorted. "I was playing with Faith. And I regret nothing. Besides, I can hardly be blamed for my behavior when you parade around our apartment in those basketball shorts that leave

nothing

to the imagination."