A Superhero Love Story

‘Promise me you won’t freak out,’ said the girl from Wetherspoons. They were standing at the door of a second-floor flat, and she was about to ring the bell. Michael looked at her, then back at the door.

‘Is this your flat?’ he asked.

‘No,’ said the girl.

‘But you said-‘

‘No I didn’t.’ Michael looked at the girl suspiciously, but she was examining her fingernails.

‘It’s fine,’ she re-assured him, and rang the bell six times. ‘It’s me!’ she shouted through the letterbox, and banged on the door a couple of times for good measure.

A large man with a beard opened the door on the chain.

‘Who’s that?’ he asked.

‘Michael,’ said the girl in the mac. ‘He’s a friend.’ The bearded man closed the door, took off the chain and opened the door to a hallway, standing back to let them pass.

‘Hiya, babe,’ he said, and held out a hand to Michael. His eyes were bloodshot, and focused on a point somewhere to the right of Michael’s ear. ‘You one of us then?’

Michael looked for a lead from the girl in the mac, but she’d turned to hang up her coat.

‘Yeah,’ said Michael. ‘I guess.’ The girl grinned at him over her shoulder, and the bearded man latched the door behind them.

‘I’m Tone,’ he said. ‘Tony. Come through.’ Feeling only slightly uncomfortable with Tone’s hands on his shoulders, Michael allowed himself to be steered into the kitchen. The contrast between the dingy hallway and the kitchen spotlights temporarily dazzled him, and he blinked a couple of times before taking in his surroundings.

‘Oh no,’ said Michael, shaking off Tone’s hands and starting to back out of the room. ‘No! No no no no no no no no no. No way.’ But the girl in the mac blocked his path.

‘You promised you wouldn’t freak out!’ she said.

‘Yeah,’ said Michael. He tried to speak quietly, although the kitchen was small enough that everyone in it could hear him anyway.

‘But you didn’t tell me…’ Michael tailed off as he realised that everyone in the room was listening.

‘Tell you what?’ said Tone. In the light of the kitchen, Michael could see not only that Tone’s beard was dyed pink, but that under his leather jacket he was wearing what seemed to be a matching leotard. On his feet were a pair of enormous workman’s boots, and there was a safety pin stuck through his ear.

‘Um… nothing,’ said Michael. A girl in a metallic trilby and cape pushed back a chair, and patted the seat.

‘Sit down,’ she said, amiably. ‘Cuppa tea?’ asked Tone. ‘Beer?’

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