He opened his eyes slowly, blinking away his grogginess. The light hurt.

“About time, hoss.”

Squinting, Luke tried to focus on the figure before him. It seemed indistinct. Opaque. Slowly the haze cleared.

“You done napping?”

Luke tried to laugh, coughed instead. Everything hurt.

“Quite a mess you got yourself into, hoss.”

“I know,” Luke croaked. He was still tied to a chair. Tightly. “I know,” he said again.

“Any ideas how you’re going to get yourself out of it?”

Luke sighed. Wheezed, actually, but it amounted to the same thing.

“I’ll figure it out, Dad.”

John Merriweather leaned casually against a crate, dressed much like he’d been the last time Luke saw him, some half-a-dozen years back. Slacks, crew-neck shirt, blazer, hair just so, more salt than pepper but still an imposing figure.

“I thought you’d do better.”

Again Luke sighed. “Yeah, Dad. I know.” He ran his tongue around his teeth. One felt loose. Plenty of blood inside his mouth, too. He spit. “You always thought I could do better.”

The older man shrugged, taking his hands out of his pockets. “Probably because you could.”

“How, Dad?” Luke turned his head to regard his father, his voice rising. “How exactly could I do better? I was a cop, and a good one. I lost my badge trying to do the right thing. Now I’m a—a—whatever. Hero or whatever. I wear a mask, for Christ’s sake! I’m still trying to make a difference!”

John Merriweather smirked. “And how’s that working out for you?”

Luke’s head dropped back in exasperation. He jerked at the chair. It was bolted to the floor and his restraints allowed him no leeway.

“I’ve done all right so far,” he said, letting his head roll back.

“So you say,” Pops replied. He levered his bulk off from the crate with a grunt. “You let your pride and your little school-boy crushes get in the way of the job.”

“How do you figure?”

Pops scoffed. “How do I—? What the hell have you been doing the last few months, kid? You let that woman twist your head around! You were bustin’ heads and makin’ a difference out there! Now you bounce from one heartache to another, letting these chippies get you all turned around until you don’t know whether your coming or going!”

Luke tried to move his fingers to reach his belt. It wasn’t there. He relaxed with a wince. “I do not,” he said weakly.

“Oh, for the love of…” Pops stepped forward and held one meaty fist in front of Luke. “You had ‘em on the run, boy! You were cleanin’ up this neighborhood good! Then you got it into your head to join that team. And yeah, maybe you started doing even better, but you lost something, too. You lost that edge. That bit that makes you you.”

Luke was shaking his head. “No, no. No way, Pops. It’s not like that.”

“Oh, really?” Pops chortled and shook his head. “You dumb ass. You’ve been so busy trying to be someone you’re not that you forgot what it was that got you here.”

Even his legs were restrained, Luke noted, held tight against the chair. “And what’s that?”

One sausage finger flicked out and thumped Luke on the head. “Your brains, kid. Your fucking brains. You were smart. You had to make do, think ahead to outsmart the bad guys. Now you have a fancy headquarters, all those resources, friends with real power….you got sloppy.”

Luke shook his head again. “No. That’s not true. I mean, I’m here, right? Still me.”

“Yes, still you.”

Luke blinked, briefly wondering why Jen Dixon was standing there.

“You’ll always be you inside,” she continued with a sad smile, pushing a strand of blond hair over her ear. “That’s part of the problem. It’s you on the inside, but outside…” she shook her head and gave a little shrug.

“What?” Luke prompted.

“Inside you still think of yourself as Luke. And you are, mostly. But outside you’re both Luke and Nemesis. Both are changing and you don’t know who either is becoming. That’s sort of what got you here in the first place.”

Luke smirked. “You, too?” He chuckled ruefully. “Okay. Lay it on me. Just what did I do wrong?”

Jen managed to look affronted. “How would I know? I’m no hero.” She paused to examine the hem of her short coat. “But I bet you wouldn’t be here now if you’d just called Stone or any of the others.”

“Right. Because I can’t do it on my own.”

“Because you don’t have to do it on your own,” Jen corrected. “Not anymore. That’s the point, remember? You’re the leader of a team of superheroes, but for some reason you thought it’d be okay to take on one off the city’s most powerful families one more time, all by yourself.” She cocked her head in that annoyingly cute way she had. “Why is that?”

“Because…” Luke paused, suddenly at a loss for words. “Because…it wasn’t…I mean, it’s what I do. It’s my thing, you know? Taking on the street crime, letting the others handle the big stuff.”

“Well, that’s a load of bullshit.” Stone lit a cigarette and flicked the Zippo shut with practiced ease. “Big stuff?”

“Yeah,” Luke said. “You know, guys with powers. Monsters. Magic. That sort of thing.”

With careful ease Stone reached for his sunglasses, pulled them down slightly and allowed his dark eyes to gaze directly on the costumed man restrained in front of him.

“Are you shitting me?” Pushing his shades back up, Stone took a drag from his cigarette. “Like some punk with a zip gun can’t dust your ass as easy as some dude shooting fire from his dick.”

Luke laughed in spite of himself. It hurt. “Well, yeah,” he conceded. “But it’s a lot less likely.”

The biker shook his head. “Less likely is still more likely than not. Seriously, dude, you brought me in to help with just this kind of thing and here you are playing solo again. Hell, I could’ve been in Albuquerque seeing this chick I know. And her sister. But no, I’m here because you said we could do better together. We could be better.” He took another drag. “Was all that bullshit or what?”

“No.” Luke shook his head. “No. I still believe that.”

“Then why the fuck are you strapped to a chair, beat to hell and about to sold for parts?”

“Because I needed to prove I could still hold my own.”

“To who? We all know you can kick anyone’s ass.” Stone paused, then shrugged. “Besides mine.”

“To me!” Luke closed his eyes tightly. “I had to prove it to me, to show that I belonged on the team.”

“On the team?” Stone laughed darkly. “The only reason half of us are even here is because of you. Maybe that’s not what brought us here but it’s what’s keeping us around. You allowed Soldier Boy a chance to be a good guy one last time. You provide an example to the newbies, and you know damn well I wouldn’t be anywhere near the fucking spotlight if you hadn’t talked me into it. You stand up and say 'Hey, we're going to fight bad guys now' and the city believes you!” Stone shook his head. "On the team," he scoffed. "Dumb ass. You are the fucking team. Or you would be if you'd just let it happen."

That didn't sound right to Luke but he couldn't make it work in his head. The pieces wouldn't connect. “Maybe," he finally said. "But you don’t—you don’t know what it’s like to not have powers when everyone else around you does.”

Stone nodded. “That’s true. I don’t. But you have power whether you know it or not. You have the power to earn people’s trust. To lead. To be a hero. Maybe you can’t lift a bus or fly or build rockets out of duct tape and paper clips, but you’ve got something most of us will never have. Respect. You earn their respect, their hope, their faith, and you turn it into something good. Everyone looks up to you. That's power, bro.”

“But…” Luke couldn’t think of what he wanted to say. “I failed Phi. She died.”

“Is that what this is about?” Stone dropped his cigarette and ground it out under his boot. “We fixed that, remember? It never happened.”

“It happened,” Luke said. “I can see it every time I close my eyes.”

“Oh,” Stone chuckled. “I get it now. You’re still in love with her.”

Luke looked up at his friend. Stone was smiling. He let his head drop, unable or unwilling to say anything.

“You should’ve just slept with her when you had the chance.”

“That…would’ve been a bad idea.”

“And why is that?”

Luke looked up. Ophilia DiSantiago stood with her arms crossed, looking like she’d just modeled for some corporate photo shoot.

“Because it’d never work between us.” He hated saying it out loud. “You know that.”

“Do I?”

“You said it yourself.”

“Did I?”

“Stop doing that!” He shook his head. “You are so damned exasperating sometimes!”

“Am I?” At his sudden glare she held up a hand, laughing. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I was doing it on purpose. It’s just so rare I have you at a disadvantage.”

“Like hell,” Luke muttered. “You always have me at a disadvantage.”

Ophilia looked confused. “How so?”

“You read minds!” Luke spat. “You know what we’re thinking all the time! You know what I think! About you.”

She knelt down, her hands resting on his knees. “No, Luke," she said softly. "No. I promised you I’d never read your mind without your permission and I won't. I get…feelings, sometimes, if they’re strong enough, but that’s not the same. But I don’t know if you don’t tell me.”

“How can I tell you?” Luke said, a hint of desperation in his voice. “You run around with the rich and famous, your family is a bunch of criminals, I lead a team of misfits in a city that barely wants them, and at any time any one of us could die. How in the world do you see the point in me telling you how I feel?”

Qismat regarded him sadly. “Oh, Habibi. How serious you are.” She stood up, grey spandex reflecting the room’s half-light. She wasn’t wearing her mask. Or her gun.  “What is it all for if you do not tell her? You are fighting for the good in the world. There is no better good than love, yes? But if you do not admit it, or accept it, what is the point?”

“I—I don’t know…”

Qismat smiled as she leaned over and patted his cheek. “I know, Habibi. And that is why I love you.” Luke tried to speak but couldn’t. No words would come out. He felt Qismat’s hand against his cheek.

“Be strong, Habibi,” she said. Her voice seemed far away. “Be yourself.”

* * * * *

The slap brought Luke around. He groaned as all the pain flooded back. Black Mike and his hired thug, Omerta, stood nearby.

“He’s still alive.” Omerta nodded, tapping his bicep.

“Of course,” Black Mike agreed. “He's strong. Too bad it will not save him.”

The two men turned and walked away, leaving the vigilante alone in the room once more.

[to be concluded...]