One Night in Metropolis

I fumbled with my keys while balancing the grocery bags in my other arm. Being old was a bitch. I could hear the mewling cry of the calico that was awaiting her dinner. "Yes, Minerva. Mommy's home. Two minutes, please."

The cat was a creature of habit and as soon as the door was open it would rub against my legs and then run into the kitchen to her bowl. I needed the cat's stability and companionship and was happy to care for it while its owner was out of the area.

Minerva had been caught in the middle of a brawl between her soon-to-be owner and another bounty-hunter. Hit by an errant piece of cement, she wouldn't have survived without immediate care. The owner showed up at my door, dying cat in hand, and said he wanted help. He looked like the world's largest biker in Halloween makeup. Given his obvious penchant for violence and my state at the time, I took the cat in.

Door unlocked, I shifted the weight of the bags and hip-checked the door open. The cat's plaintive cry grew louder as I closed the door with my foot. "Yes, baby, Mommy missed you too."

Minerva wound her way around my legs, pushing her body against me incessantly. "Okay, okay! Who's a hungry minx? Give me a minute, you pest."

The cold, deep voice called out from the living room. "I don't think it's dinner the cat's worried about."

It was unnerving, but not unique. I've had some rather odd guests pop by uninvited with too regular a frequency. After pushing a button under the table, I walked into the room and looked at the large man in his gold and blue costume. "I guess I'm going to have to upgrade my security. My name is Jessandara Olahtundra. I'll need to know the nature of the injury and as much as you can tell me about the victim."

"You... what?" He sounded surprised, but she couldn't tell with his mask on.

"Your friend or loved one. The person suffering. I can't help them without some information."

"Oh, no, you've got this all wrong. I'm here to kill you."

Jess paused. "I see. May I ask why? Or do you even know, Mr. Wilson?"

"No, I've got no idea. I was curious, though. Usually, my fee quashes any curiosity I may have, but there was something odd here. I'm the best. Why hire me to off some little old lady? I don't come cheap. I looked around your apartment. Rent control, right? Your best possession is probably the cat. So, why pay me $1,250,000 to knock you off? And come to think of it, how do you know my name?"

"Care for some tea?"

"No, thanks. Help yourself though." He was insufferably confident.

"Every serious player in the business knows your name, Slade. And Minerva's not mine, I'm just watching her for a friend. She belongs to Lobo, so you might want to respect the cat. You know him, right? Intergalactic bounty-hunter? She may very well be the only creature in the universe that he loves."

"Hmmm. You're an interesting woman, Jessandara. I can't tell if you're lying or not, and that's surprising. So, you're friends with Lobo?"

While not oblivious to the danger Deathstroke posed, I still managed a wry smile. "I'm not sure if you'd call it friends, but he'd be upset if anything happened to me. So would some others."

"Yeah? Why is that?"

"Because I help. Selflessly. It's what I do. I'm a healer."

"Tell me about it."

"Why?"

"Why should you tell me? How about this? If we're talking, I'm less likely to be killing you."

"Fair point. Okay, my only real contemporary is Vandal Savage. I don't know where my abilities came from or how old I am, but I do know that we weren't what you would think of as human when I first became aware. I believe that I predate Neandertahls, but I'm not sure. I have... I guess you would call it energy. I can either keep the energy for myself or spend it on others. It regenerates slowly, so I can keep up low level healing for lots of people perpetually. If I stop expending it, I fill up, as it were, in about nine months."

"Reeaally." He elongated the word as he leaned back and put his feet on my coffee table. "Very interesting. So, when you're 'full', what does that mean? What can you do then? Heal amputees? Bring someone back from the dead?"

"That and more. When I'm in that state I look to be about 20 and I'm as strong as Kal or Diana. I can't fly, but I've never experienced anything that could hurt me, including strikes from Zeus. We've had words in the past. But there's a tradeoff. Right now, I'm as powerful as the 70-year-old woman I appear to be."

"So, who are you helping?"

"Currently? The Dali Lama. He has a leaking tricuspid valve. Most street level heroes who're in danger of CTE. A number of children you wouldn't be interested in. I helped the Bat of Gotham when his back was broken. The granddaughter of one of the only true friends of a certain bald Metropolis billionaire. Scott Free with his arthritis." I leaned down to scratch the cat behind the ear. "Minerva. A number of others."

"You seem remarkably composed."

"I may appear that way, but I'm not. As you can imagine, if you live as long as I have, you're going to be threatened by many dangerous men. Maybe that helps me seem to be calm. On the other hand, I believe that before you can reach me with hand, sword or bullet, that wall will crash in and you'll be destroyed."

"Ahhh, yes. Metropolis' blue boy scout. Unfortunately, there's been a devastating explosion on the dark side of the moon. My employer has a long reach. Superman will be out of range for a bit."

"I wasn't referring to Kal. I also helped a man bring his wife back to life. She had been dead for a long time, but he found magic that would help. With my assistance, he was successful. In exchange, he's opened numerous hospitals in Kahndaq and will help if I call. And I did."

He tilted his head as he stared at me through that mask. "What's the magic word, Slade?" I offered a smile as cold as the one I imagine he wore. "Shazam."

I heard a whooshing sound. Slade's view turned towards the outside wall and I dove towards the kitchen, cradling Minerva. While Slade was waiting for Black Adam to crash through the window or wall, he was instead coming up through the floor. He grabbed Deathstroke's legs and yanked.

I could hear the yelling as I quickly grabbed what I needed and threw it in a duffel bag. My laptop, my purse, some jewelry I've had for millennia and Minerva's medicine. As I climbed out the window onto the fire-escape, I could make out their words.

Adam's laughter boomed as I hoped my downstairs neighbors weren't home. "A grenade, assassin? Against me?"

As cold and calm as it was with me, I could hear Slade's voice as he responded. "A frag grenade. Filled with nth metal. Enjoy."

I heard a muffled bang and Adam's screams. Climbing down took way too long. I considered just jumping and healing myself, but I was carrying Minerva. After finally reaching the street, I took off as fast as this aged body would take me.

Stumbling into the internet café, I grabbed a bottle of water, sat down and pulled out my laptop.

"Ma'am? We serve food here, so pets aren't allowed. Sorry."

"She's a service animal. It'll be fine."

Tilting her head, she gave a tight smile as she tried to be 'by the book'. "Well, we can't really..."

"Legally, you have to allow her. Or is this an age discrimination thing?"

"No, no, sorry. Just... whatever. Sorry. Take the first hour on the house."

Free internet. Can't argue with that. As I booted up and opened ProtonMail, she returned with a cup of chamomile tea. I gave her my best grandma smile and she went away.

TO: CC: BCC: , , , , , , , and 14 others Subject: Temporary Hiatus

Friends,

Slade Wilson paid me a visit this evening. Someone offered him a tremendous amount of money to kill me and engineered an incident on the moon to remove a local friend from the theater of operation.

Sadly, I'm going to have to go into hiding for a while and collect my energies. That means that I won't be able to continue to help you for now, and for that, I'm truly sorry. In 9 months I'll be looking for Mr. Wilson and the person that hired him unless someone takes care of that for me first.

Thank you to Adam for his help.

If any of you are in touch, could you please let Lobo know what happened and that Minerva is fine? I have her with me.

All my love,

Jess

I'm not like Clark, or Bruce or Diana. I don't like to hurt people. Fighting makes me sick to my stomach. Unfortunately, we sometimes have to do what we would prefer not to. In less than a year, a forgotten giant will walk the earth and Slade Wilson will know why he shouldn't mess with little old ladies.

I left a twenty as a tip, grabbed my bag and scooped up Minerva. Heading out the door, I made my way to the Eastern Bus Terminal on this balmy Metropolis night.