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“Thank you so much for coming on here today.” The news reporter says with saccharine insincerity. “It truly means a lot to have this open dialogue with the person who we owe our lives to.”
Your lives and your gossip, Johanna thinks but doesn’t say. Instead she lets the sweet smile that has become frighteningly more natural with time find its way to her face and waves to the camera.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please give it up one more time for our city’s guardian-- Sonnenblume !”
The canned applause blends with the clicking of her boots as she makes her way across the stage and she can still hear it ringing in her ears by the time she gets to her dressing room.
When she enters, she notices the basket on the counter filled with chocolate bars and sprigs of lavender. Despite the pounding in her head, she can’t help but grin.
“You like it?” A smooth voice croons from behind her. Johanna turns around to face Jeanne Le Brey and her cherry-lipped smile that is equal parts professional and sincere.
“It’s lovely.” Johanna leans forward so Jeanne can kiss her cheeks. “But you really didn’t have to do this.”
Jeanne scoffs, rolling her eyes to the moon. “Honestly, cherie. Who do you take me for?”
“My manager?” Johanna offers with a smile.
Jeanne scoffs again. “Do not call me that, it makes you sound like you are a perfume model instead of a superhero .”
“That’s an insult to perfume models who, I’m sure, are doing more for the public than I am.”
“Was it really that bad?”
“They asked me about Alexander, even though it’s been three months, and when my costume was getting ‘upgrades’. And of course there was the usual demonstration.” Johanna punctuates this with a thin green tendril crawling from the center of her palm until it stands upright and blossoms into a pink rose. “As if they haven’t seen me in action before. Nothing about any supervillain threats, nothing about my actual work , certainly nothing about the Crown and Cleaver--”
“They don’t know about the Crown and Cleaver,” Jeanne cuts her off with an edge to her voice. “And we are keeping it that way.”
“They deserve to know, it’s their city!”
“And it’s our livelihoods and your safety that’ll be in danger if unapproved information leaks out. Don’t think management didn’t notice that stunt you pulled in the last interview.”
Johanna sighs. “It just doesn’t feel right keeping this from them.”
“The superhero business is no place for a moral compass.” Jeanne jokes half-heartedly. “But seriously, do not start rambling about any masked figure or guns or anything like that. It was a nightmare to cover it up the first time and I do not know if I will be able to do it again.”
pulling out her phone. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest, yes? I’ll get Felix to cancel the rest of your appearances this week.”
“There were more?”
Jeanne squints, reading off her phone. “Some podcasts and a few blogs wanted to talk to you, but they aren’t as important.” Noticing Johanna’s seemingly apparent discomfort, she adds on. “Don’t worry, they would all be as vacuous and superficial as this one.”
“Thanks for the reassurance.”
Johanna’s phone dings from inside her bag. She sighs, fishing it out to read the message. It was probably Felicity asking her where she was.
She opens the message, realizing immediately that it was not Felicity who messaged her.
SIM
hey. we still on for later??
Johanna curses under her breath. Sim is someone Felicity introduced her to a while ago and still remains her only real civilian friend. She’s also the first person in a long time that Johanna has even considered being something more.
And she’s going to blow it before it’s even gotten the chance to happen.
--
As she scours for a seat on the bus ride home, all the energy she had in the morning seems to seep out of her in heavy waves. The toll the week has taken on her is steadily adding up and every step is like wading through lead.
And it’s only Wednesday.
She sends a quick text to Sim and mulls over her conversation with Jeanne in her head, the sinking feeling in her stomach she had during the interview still stirring and-- if anything-- getting worse. No one remembers when the Crown and Cleaver became a threat. One day, they were unheard of, and the next day, they were on every superhero watchlist in the area.
Their MO tended to be big, flashy spectacles. Smoke bombs, mysterious packages of powder on doorsteps, anything that could incite a panic. And then, when the crowd was dispersed, there were no casualties. Not so much as a window scratched. Civilians boiled it down to reckless pranks in poor taste.
But Johanna knew better. Every time there was an incident, she jumped into action. She made just enough of an effort to make it look like she was handling the powder or the smoke bombs, when in reality her sights were elsewhere.
It didn’t take long for Johanna to realize that the purpose of these spectacles wasn’t to instill fear in the citizens. It was to draw her out. What the public began to see as inappropriate pranks were really taunts. Challenges.
And even though it made her feel like an idiot every time, Johanna accepted each one. And each time, she was met with the same operative known only as the Gunner. The Gunner, contrary to their name, wielded a scimitar. They were always masked and their head was covered so the only thing Johanna could ever see of them was the sneer in their dark eyes. It made her want to gag.
Every time, they would do the same dance. They fought, because they could. They hurled insults that held no weight. And then the Gunner would make a demand. Make a statement at your next interview, draw our symbol somewhere people will see it, deliver this to your management. And Johanna would comply.
She’ll never forget what happened the one time she didn’t.
--
The Gunner was tied up, roped and entangled in vine after thorny vine. And yet that stupid sneer was still there.
“What’s wrong, Flower Power?”
“I’m not going to do your dirty work for you. I’m not going to do anything for you ever again.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes. You might have scared them, but you never scared me. Even now they think you’re a bunch of twelve-year-olds with a bad sense of humor.”
“Wow.”
She opens her mouth to respond, but in that time, the vines that originally wrapped around her captive fell dead at her feet. For a brief second, a steel blade glints in the afternoon sun. And then it’s gone.
Squelch.
It hits the ground.
A scream.
The ground was a person.
Johanna doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t look. She’ll find out later the name of the person she failed to save-- their parents, their friends, their spouse, their children.
But for now she looks up, her nails sharper than the thorns she grows as they dig trenches into her palms.
The smirk hasn’t left the Gunner’s eyes.
“So, about that ‘dirty work’...”
--
“I got you cronuts.” Felicity says by way of welcome as soon as Johanna steps in the door. “Had Callum make them special.” Johanna smiles and sets her bag down on her side of the room before kneeling over the bed and kissing Felicity on the cheek despite being assaulted with swats of hands and pillows. “Hey, stop that!”
“But that was so sweet of you! I haven’t been able to go to Callum’s since…” Since that time she had to practically drag Alexander to do something with her for her birthday. “Well, it’s been a long time, is all!”
Felicity peers at her over her specs but if she notices the hesitation she doesn’t mention it, which Johanna is eternally grateful for.
“Well, I’ve got to run soon, so--” Felicity cuts her off with a loud groan. “What?”
“You just got back. What are they having you do this time?”
Johanna frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I watched the interview.” Felicity is the only person apart from Jeanne and her team who knows that Johanna Hoffman and Sonnenblume are one and the same, coming from a superhero family herself.
Not for the first time, Johanna is grateful to have her here. It’s hard enough hiding herself from any new people in her life, she can’t imagine having to hide from her best friend.
“It’s fake and dishonest and you play right into it!”
And then she says things like that and suddenly hiding her life away doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. “I don’t exactly have a choice!”
“Of course you do, they love you! You could say anything you like and they’d hang on your every word.”
“Maybe that’s how it worked with your father, but it’s a little different for me.” The thunderous silence suggests that she’s crossed a line. She attempts to backtrack, “And, for your information, I’m actually going out for myself. I’ve got a date.”
“With who , exactly?”
“You remember Sim?”
Felicity almost drops her cronut. “Do I remember Sim-- how did you even--”
Johanna grins. “After you introduced us, I saw her in my marine botany class. I don’t know how I didn’t notice her before, but she recognized me and yadda yadda yadda, the rest is history!”
“I’m not sure how much ‘history’ you can have after only knowing each other for a few months but--”
“It’s just a saying!” Johanna chucks a pillow at her.
“Okay, okay!” Felicity puts her arms up in surrender, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Just stay safe. Don’t say anything too revealing.”
“It’ll be fine, okay? I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Okay…”
If it was anyone else, Johanna would crack a joke about not needing more overprotective people in her life, but she knows that for Felicity, this is personal. She knows all too well the dangers of being discovered.
--
Sim is waiting for Johanna at the cafe, the cuffs of her black and gold sleeves billowing softly in the summer breeze.
“I’m sorry I’m late, I just--” Johanna starts.
“Dude, it’s fine.” Sim grins in that easy fashion of hers that seems eerily familiar. “In all honesty, I got here an hour ago to make sure I wouldn’t be late.”
“An hour? Shit, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting that long.”
“Well, you’re worth waiting for.”
A blush creeps across Johanna’s face and she has to fight the urge to cover her face with her sunhat. Sim seems to take great pleasure in this and sits down with a smug smile and-- dear Lord, did she just wink?
Clearing her throat to avoid further embarrassment, Johanna picks up the menu and pretends to browse. “Er- should we order?”
“Of course. Though I figured you’d tell me what to get, since you know. You’ve been here before.”
Johanna looks up at this. “You haven’t?” Callum’s bakery is the most famous in town, she’d thought. Or maybe that’s just how much Felicity loved it.
“Oh no, I can already feel the judgment.”
“No!” Johanna says, far too quickly. “I mean, no, I’m not judging you. I just- um-”
As if on cue, she’s interrupted by a series of screams from the other side of the street. There’s a crowd gathering, cars honking desperately as the sidewalk is swarmed.
Great timing.
She turns to apologize to Sim, surprised to find her already standing up, eyeing the crowd with something that doesn’t seem to be curiosity or fear.
She must be staring, because Sim reddens all of a sudden and offers Johanna a sheepish smile. “Sorry- I just got a text from my dad. There’s a, uh, family emergency, I just have to call him real quick-- is that okay?”
Johanna just shakes her head. “Yeah, of course! No problem! I hope he’s okay!” At least now she doesn’t have to worry about abandoning her date in order to get into a Spandex costume and leap onto some buildings.
So much for going out for herself.
--
For the first time, she arrives at the unofficial “rendezvous point” without any sighting of the Gunner. She doesn’t know why the first thing she feels after realizing that is disappointment. Luckily, it’s quickly overshadowed by that sinking feeling of dread that started since that morning.
She could have miscalculated. There is no familiarity with the enemy and she was stupid for thinking there was. Who knows where another operative might be and if she’d even get there before--
“Miss me, Flower Power?”
Against her will, Johanna sighs in relief before turning to face the voice and locking eyes with the masked figure she’d come to know so well.
“If by you, you mean the sweet feeling of bliss I get when I’m no longer within 25 meters of you, then yes. I did miss you.”
“Aw gee, I’m touched.”
“Let’s just get this over with, what do you want now? Another TV broadcast? Does your Commodore perhaps enjoy cronuts?”
The Gunner snorts. “No. No he does not. And what’s up with you today? You want to get rid of me at least fifty percent more than you usually do.”
“I always want to get rid of you, and the same amount. Just tell me what you need.” Johanna watches as the Gunner slinks from their current position toward her, backing away slowly. There are stems budding at the tips of her fingers. The Gunner looks down at her hands, then back up. Their eyes crinkle in that fucking sneer and before Johanna can even blink, they draw their scimitar.
The battle itself is a familiar dance, the steps to which Johanna could perform blindfolded. Roses clash with steel and lilies strangle silk in a pattern that could have been choreographed if not for the breathlessness that only comes with spontaneity.
They’re both out of practice, and they know it. The tendrils that shoot from Johanna’s palms wilt slightly as soon as they hit the air and her opponent’s strikes are far wider than usual.
At this point, the only reason they’re still fighting is because they’re both too stubborn to stop.
All of a sudden, Johanna feels the wind knocked out of her as she drops to her knees. The Gunner stands behind her, a grin in their eyes, from where they’ve knocked her down.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’ve missed this. Thank you for that very refreshing spar. You’re the only one that makes it interesting.” Without another word the Gunner leaps onto the edge of the building and gives Johanna a two-finger salute before letting themself fall over.
Johanna attempts to rush over to the edge and stop them, to catch them at least (not for their safety, she knows they’ll be fine. They always are).
But the whole thing just felt. Odd. There was no demand. No ultimatum. No threat of a citizen’s life hanging over her head.
Her head is spinning and she needs to actually sit down before she can properly process this. Maybe Felicity or Jeanne will have answers.
--
Johanna makes it back to Callum’s bakery before Sim, who follows shortly after all the while apologizing profusely. It’s nice to see someone else apologizing like this for a change. She sits back and closes her eyes as someone comes to take their order.
For now, focus on your date, she decides. The Gunner can wait.
EPILOGUE / SNEAK PEEK:
“Welcome back, Master Gunner.” someone rumbles as his colleague returns, leaving his post to join her on her walk.
She pulls down the mask from her face without looking at him. “We’re home, Skip, it’s just Sim.”
“Sorry. Force of habit.” She can feel his eyes on her. “So, what’s the verdict?”
“She was harder to place a tracker on than I originally anticipated, but I confirmed my suspicions.”
They stop outside brass doors and share a glance.
“It’s time to bring back Newton.”