Grounded (Out of the Box Book 4) by Robert J. Crane Page A

hear it, because her mouth didn’t open at all, it was like it was all in her throat. “You sure you want to do this? There are easier ways to make your mark.”
    “Mmmrawwwwmrmmmaaa—” I tried to do it like she did it then just went for a whisper instead. “You heard me before. I’m supposed to be somebody. I want to be a hero.”
    “Heroes have short lifespans,” she said.
    “Man, who wants to live forever?” I joked.
    She just stared at me. “Most people would, I think.”
    “Could you imagine living your whole life not standing up for anything you believe in?” I asked. “Just sort of … letting things pass you by unanswered? Like a whole bunch of dead bodies? Especially when you could be doing something about it?” I stared her down, saw her eyes move just a little. “Power and responsibility, right? That’s the problem with being powerless—you got no real responsibility, because what can you do? But the minute you got power … doesn’t it mean it’s time for you to step up and do what you can?”
    “That’s sweet,” she said, a little condescending.
    “Well, what do you do, then?” I asked. “I doubt you’re in government service for the money. You just like shooting people with fireballs and busting skulls?”
    She folded her arms in front of her. Lady was like a stone wall. “Maybe I love it. Maybe a little too much.” She let out a breath and the arms unfolded. “Or maybe it’s the only thing I’m good at.”
    “Well, maybe I’m good at it, too, and just don’t know it yet,” I said. I hesitated. “Not at busting skulls, probably. But maybe at, you know, solving mysteries. Helping the helpless and … whatnot.”
    “Being a hero,” she said with a sigh. “All right, so the deal is, you follow along with me if you want. I’ll let you watch what I do. If things get hairy, you take a step back, though, especially if I tell you to. We run into lightning guy, you make a shield around yourself, as fast as you can. I don’t want to have to explain to your momma why her baby boy got bugzappered.”
    “I’d be more worried about lightning guy at that point,” I said. “My momma would put on a full rubber suit and just drag that man’s ass across a thick carpeting for days at a time until he begged her to stop. They’d be calling him Mr. Ex-static by the end of—” I paused. “How about we call him Mr. Ex-stat—”
    “No.” She was firm in her refusal.
    “Everybody’s gotta have a name—”
    “This isn’t the comic books,” she said, and the arms were folded again. “We don’t give people cheesy names.”
    “Like Sovereign?” I teased.
    “I didn’t name that jackhole,” she said. “He named himself a few centuries before I met him, and he did it as part of an orchestrated PR campaign to make himself look like a badass and also to hide who he truly was.”
    “So you never thought about making a hero name?” I asked. “Like Fly Girl—or, uh … Super—”
    “All the good ones are copyrighted and trademarked,” she said. “It’s actually a real minefield, I’m told by the government lawyers. They strongly advised that I not even try.”
    “Wait, you’re serious?” I asked. “But … I was gonna be …”
    “Don’t,” she said. “Just … don’t. Be yourself.”
    “Well, that’s half the fun gone right there,” I said.
    “Yeah, we’ll work on taking away the other half tomorrow,” she said, reaching for the door. She looked back at me, all seriousness. “I know it seems so cool now. Maybe you’ve seen my fights on TV, or you’ve watched …” there was a twitch in the muscles around her eye, giving her crow’s feet that smoothed out perfectly a second later, “… other metas who sell a glamorous lifestyle. Those fights hurt more than anything you can imagine, and every other meta except for …” she twitched again, “… that one—”
    “Katrina Forrest, you mean?”
    “Except for that one, yes,” she said, twitching