Lancelot didn’t expect there to be so much paperwork when he became the leader of the Knights, but he happily signed incident reports and costume order forms as the afternoon dragged on. When he was just a hero, he assumed his bosses hid in their office, growing too tired of the heroics rather than being suffocated by papers and files. He’d just approved new floor mats for the lobby when a knock rattled his office door. Lancelot shoved his papers away, glad for the distraction, and called, “It’s open.”
His heart fluttered, thinking a request had come in for him to save the day, but he knew if that were true then there would have been an announcement on the loudspeaker. Plus, a dressed-down Odo didn’t help his case either. The Hero Relief Center required all its heroes to mask up before patrolling.
“Hey man,” Odo greeted. His long dragonfly wings hung behind him, their tips dragging across the floor.
“How was patrol?” Lancelot asked out of habit, even though he knew the answer was going to be tiring. Odo only let his wings drip if he was trying to conserve space in a crowd or if he was too exhausted to raise them.
“A couple of messes, but nothing we couldn’t take care of.” Odo walked into the room and sat in the office chair across Lancelot’s desk. He rubbed his upper arms and sighed. “I should have taken your advice to hit the gym more often. These airborne rescues can be tough.”
Lancelot sat on his desk, a smile eagerly tugging across his mouth. He loved flying up and catching people. It made him feel like the heroes from old comic books. Even if he used his telekinesis to lighten the load. “From the bus derailment on the bridge?”
Odo nodded. “I made sure no one fell.”
“I have no doubt about that. In a couple of years, it might be you sitting at this desk.”
“I’ll pass on that.”
“I guess the view could be better,” Lancelot joked. The view behind him was perfect. All of San Arbor set on display, sparkling gold in the dying light.
Odo chuckled. “I like doing the hero work, not documenting it. No offense.”
“None taken. Someone’s got to, though.” It was hard for Lancelot to keep the disdain from his voice. He knew leading the Knights was an honor and that filling Excalibur’s shoes was the best way to repay his old boss. Lancelot had been given too many second chances to not do his best when he was asked to fill the seat. Plus, his wife loved the idea of him stamping paperwork instead of stamping out crime, despite her job as a crime reporter putting her in the line of fire just as often.
“A few of us were going to grab a bite to eat,” Odo said, pulling Lancelot from his thoughts. “Want to come with us?”
“I’m going to stay here,” Lance answered. “Debrief the night shift. But next time.”
“Right on.” Odo stood. “Have a good night, boss.”
“Epson salt bath,” Lancelot instructed as his knight left his office. “We’ll start a gym program for you next week!”
The paperwork could wait. No one was around to file the forms, anyway. After chatting with Odo and wishing the night shift a safe patrol, Lancelot couldn’t fight the hero itch any longer. He pulled his mask from the glass cabinet in the corner of his office and changed into his full hero costume. It had moved away from the Renaissance Faire look years ago but kept his baby blue color scheme. The bodysuit was more comfortable than it looked and, with the help of Merlin and the costumes department, completely bulletproof, thanks to some material he couldn’t remember the name of. He slid his hair back with a thin strip of his ability and took off.
Using his telekinesis to fly would always be Lancelot’s favorite use of his power. When it first manifested, he could hardly lift a baseball, let alone himself. Now, he weaved between the skyscrapers of San Arbor with ease. The evening air chilled his cheeks, but he welcomed it. Lancelot tapped through the radio channels in his earpiece, listening to 911 intake calls. He could get to callers a lot quicker than a cruiser on a crowded street.
He flew over the Cinder Center for Powered Individuals and considered popping in to say hello, but the voice in his earpiece obtained all his focus.
Shots fired. Robbery in progress. Seventh and Main.
Lancelot shot into the sky to clear the nearby buildings and sped to the destination.
“I’m headed to a robbery in the garden district,” he notified his heroes on patrol.
“Good, I can use the backup,” Phazer answered. The young hero sounded winded, and Lancelot increased his speed.
As far as crime scenes went, the one Lancelot flew into was a mess. Dirt and leaves from a destroyed canopy outside a restaurant littered the street. Water erupted from a broken fire hydrant. The back tires of a cab squealed as it hung halfway into a storefront. Lancelot scanned the area, quickly taking in the situation. He found Phazer stationed between an unknown masked figure and a group of civilians hiding behind a car. Even this far away, Lancelot spotted the blood staining Phazer’s uniform.
The figure cocked the hammer on his gun, and Lancelot flew into action. He pulled Phazer into his chest and shoved a telekinesis blast into the masked man, knocking him and the bullet back.
“You okay?” Lancelot asked the other hero, setting him at arm’s length to look him over.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Phazer answered. “I can phase, remember? You don’t have to try to take a bullet for me.”
Lancelot grinned. How many times had Abigail stepped in between him and a bullet when she knew he could easily knock it off course? Probably too many to count.
“It’s a hard reaction to ignore,” Lancelot told him. “Besides, you phase, and the bullet could have hit someone else.”
Pink dusted Phazer’s cheeks below his half mask. “I would have taken the hit—”
“I know.” Lancelot stopped him. “Check on them. I’ll capture this guy.”
The leaves on the ground tangled together as Lancelot shot forward, tackling his target to the ground. He pinned the man’s hands to the pavement under his knees and ripped off his mask. Dark, angry eyes stared up at him.
“How did you think this was going to work?” Lancelot asked him. “San Arbor is the safest city in the country. What made you think you could change that?”
“I got through, didn’t I?” the man spat, rocking his midsection, trying to buck Lancelot off.
Lancelot smothered a sheet of psychic pressure across the man and stilled him. “You can tell us how you did that while you’re awaiting trial.”
Sirens wailed as they turned up a nearby street. Lancelot flipped the man over and cuffed his hands behind his back. “Powers?” he asked.
The man’s silence was all the answer he needed. Lancelot secured a power inhibitor collar around his neck as a precaution. He waited with the criminal until SAPD placed him inside a cruiser. After giving his statement, Lancelot found Phazer assuring a couple that everything was okay now.
“Just doing our job,” Phazer said to them as they turned to leave. He let out a massive sigh and carefully examined his arm. The blood stain Lancelot noticed when he arrived had gotten bigger.
“Ambulance is here for us, too,” Lancelot told him, startling the hero.
“I don’t need it.” Phazer dropped his arm and faced Lancelot. “It’s just a cut.”
“We don’t need to be super all the time.” Lancelot lightly shoved Phazer with his mental ability. “Go get checked out.”
“Is this a photo op?” Phazer asked, glancing past Lancelot’s shoulder at the building crowd around them. Camera lights crept closer to them.
Lancelot smiled. “No matter what I say, it’ll turn into one. Either get checked out here or back at HRC. If the cameras don’t get you tonight, I’m sure Channel 9 will be calling in the morning.”
Unable to avoid a direct order from his boss, Phazer headed to a nearby ambulance. He high-fived a kid sitting inside as an EMT applied a bandage to his forehead.
Lancelot turned to the media waiting behind him and offered them a big smile and wave. Paperwork, interviews, protecting his staff and his city -- it was all hero work.
Lancelot would be happy to do all of it for as long as he could. He winked at Monica at the front of the journalism pack and took their first question.
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