Geoff hoisted the four recyclable grocery bags higher on his shoulders. One good thing about a fifth-floor walk-up, it kept him in shape. Three stories up, he stopped at apartment 312 and knocked on the door. An ancient Vietnamese woman cracked open the door and peered out.

At a glance at Geoff’s wave and half-grin, she went to slam the door. He got his Converse high-top in at the last moment. Mrs. Nguyen let loose a barrage of Vietnamese as she backed away. Geoff pushed the door open with his shoulder and went straight to the dinette table in the clean, spare room.

He set one grocery bag on the table and opened her fridge. Mrs. Nguyen kept up the running verbal attack as he took inventory. The chicken broth was running low, but only the apples were untouched from the week before. He was getting better at remembering what she liked.

The tirade’s pitch rose, and Geoff glanced around to see what had caught her attention.

“Oh, hi, Mr. Tran,” Geoff said to the forty-ish man at the door. His blue cover-alls were worn, but clean and newly ironed.

Mr. Tran bowed to Mrs. Nguyen and spoke in a conciliatory voice – when he could get a word in. Geoff grabbed an empty grocery bag, neatly folded by the door, and slipped out past Mr. Tran.

The super closed the door behind him. “You should let her daughter bring her food,” he said. “You’re late on your rent again.” He grinned as he pointed a thumb at the door. “And she hates you.”

Geoff ducked his head. “Her daughter forgets, or brings her stuff she won’t eat. I got a new job. I start today. I’ll get you the rent.”

Mr. Tran started back down the stairs. “I know you will. Don’t sweat it.”

~~

Geoff pulled on the blue and black lycra suit and did not look in the mirror. He swore, the hardest part of being a super hero apprentice was surviving five years of skin-tight polyester. At least he’d been able to have some say in the colors. He quickly put on cargo pants and a sweater, grabbed his keys, and tried to remember which subway to take.

The warehouse was one of the nicer ones – newish paint, no major cracks in the pavement – but it was still a warehouse on the docks. Geoff entered the open garage door and let his eyes adjust. Walls, cinder-block for one story and corrugated metal above, created a long, narrow room. A smattering of half-emptied pallets littered the floor in between puddles of water.

Geoff took the metal staircase along the left wall and entered the door at the second-floor landing. He crossed the cracked, stained linoleum of the empty reception area and stopped at another door. Long enough for the retina scanner to process. At a quiet “click,” he pushed the crashbar and walked into the hallway.

The architectural and aesthetic style of the secured area didn’t differ much from the more public warehouse façade. Geoff stowed his street clothes in the locker room and passed into the briefing room. He took a seat in the back row and waited.

Gradually, the room filled. Veterans, including Granite, whose skin was as hard as stone, and the beautiful, semi-visible Aylia, sat near the front. Licensed side-kicks sat behind them, then apprentices.

Ian Braun took the podium. His dark blue suit and CEO-style haircut belied the fact he had once been the most powerful superhero in the world. Unfortunately, whenever he used his great strength, his body expelled a dangerous gas that harmed the ozone layer. The guild’s top researcher, Dr. Mestofle, had tried to create a new suit that would neutralize the off-gassing, but it weighed eight-hundred pounds. Eventually, the EPA stepped in and “The Bull” was forced to step down into a more administrative roll. Geoff liked him and, as hard as it must have been for The Bull to resume his identity of Ian Brawn full-time, thought the super hero community was better off for his leadership.

Ian cleared his throat. “We all here?” he called to the back of the room.

Geoff let his eyes unfocus. “There are two people in the west janitor’s closet.”

“Are they…”

“They’re together,” Geoff said as snickers peppered the room.

“Let’s begin.”

For the next hour, Geoff listened attentively to the intel briefing. He wished he could track a cohesive pattern through all the statistics. Across the aisle, Spyder danced her fingers through the air. By the time the briefing was over, Geoff would bet she’d know the relationship between every crook in town.

“Any questions?” Ian asked.

“Yeah,” said Scatterfire. “When’s Mayhem getting out on parole?”

“Uh,” Ian flipped through his PDA. “2043.”

“Oh. OK. Guess I can take that leave, then.”

Spyder raised her hand. “Sir, January 12, 1973. When the building commissioner’s office was broken into, did the thieves exit through a window or a door?”

Heroes and side-kicks threw blank faces at Spyder, although her classmates just rolled their eyes. Ian smiled and shook his head as he looked up the data.

“Door,” he said.

Spyder went back to air-weaving. Ian answered the few remaining questions.

“Anything else?” he asked.

A man and a woman entered through the back door and stood quietly against the wall.

“Axle, Leaf,” Ian said to the side-kick pair. “Nice of you to join us.”

Axle shifted his feet. “Der was a car-jacking, but we got duh guy.”

The room erupted into hoots and whistles. Axle turned red while Leaf scanned the crowd with squinted eyes.

Geoff slid lower in his seat.

Spyder jumped to her feet. “I’ve got it!” She scowled until the room quieted.

“What is it?” Ian asked.

“The robberies on the west side were all through Black Lightning’s organization. Except the pawn shop. That was Beefcake. The attempted murder on the hill, that was Beefcake and Guttersnipe. And the bomb scare at the airport was The Wild Rose.”

She scanned the upraised eyebrows around her. “Don’t you see what this means?”

Ian looked to be holding back a smile. “Please, tell us.”

“Crashcart is going to rob the First National Bank and Trust tomorrow at nine a.m.”

The apprentices buzzed excitedly while the heroes and their side-kicks shook their heads and chortled.

“All right,” said Ian above the din. “Aylia, Mirrormark, and Cloudcover, if you and your teams would stay behind, please. As well as Greenhorn, Belle, and Geoff. The rest of you, apprentice assignments are posted on the board. Take care of each other out there.”

Geoff made his way to the front as the room mostly cleared. He took a seat in the third row and listened to Spyder arguing with Ian.

“But, Mr. Braun, this is my call. I should be able to go,” Spyder said.

Ian put a hand on her shoulder. “I do understand, Spyder. I know how it feels to be pushed out of your own game. I need your skills elsewhere for the time being. Please do what you can to help Homeland Security this week.”

Spyder’s eyes narrowed. “I belong in the field. You’re trying to stick me behind a desk.”

“That is very likely where you will end up.” Ian smiled sadly. “And I won’t try to tell you it’s a fair trade.” He walked her to the door. “I will promise to allow you to use your apprenticeship to develop your abilities as much as possible. I will give you every opportunity to prove to the board you belong in the field.”

Spyder nodded, her look of resentment changing to one of resolve.

“Now then,” Ian said, turning back to the assembled and clapping his hands. “First National Bank and Trust is under threat by our friend Mr. Crashcart.”

“Fer real?” asked Mirrormark.

“I guess we’ll find out,” said Ian. “Mirror and Cloud, we’ll need your skills to protect the by-standers. Aylia, you’re our resident expert on Crashcart. If you please?” He held out a hand to the dais.

Aylia took the front, glaring at each listener. “Crashcart is no small threat. Even if the news came by a less than reliable source, we will prepare properly. His chief power is electricity. If he touches you, it completes a circuit. You will be electrocuted, and you will probably die. His cohorts include…”

~~

Geoff’s head spun as he left the briefing three hours later. He’d never been in on a planning session before. He could see how each of the pieces fit together, but the shear quantity of detail was enough to make him dizzy.

Whirligig, Cloudcover’s side-kick, pulled Geoff aside.

“OK,” he said. “What’s your handle, again? I feel kinda weird calling you Geoff.”

“Uh, I don’t have one,” Geoff said.

“What’s your power, then?”

“I can tell where people are.”

“That’s it? No strength or x-ray vision or talking to ducks?”

Geoff laughed nervously. “I could talk to ducks, but I don’t think they’d understand me.”

Whirligig shook his head. “That sucks.”

“Why?”

“Man, you’re never gonna make full-hero with a lame skill like that.”

Geoff bit back a reply. He’d been in long enough to know side-kicks slammed apprentices, and apprentices took it.

“OK.” Whirligig pointed to a blueprint of the bank. “So, you’re gonna be here, in this office. You remember what you’re supposed to do?”

Geoff nodded, and then listened respectfully as Whirligig repeated everything Ian had already said – most of it backward and out of order. Geoff nodded at the appropriate points. When Cloudcover came to call his side-kick away, Geoff collapsed into a chair with relief.

On the far side of the room, Aylia dismissed the other apprentices, Greenhorn and Belle. Geoff stood as she stopped in front of him. He tried to concentrate on her words and not the way the projector screen appeared and faded away through her translucent body.

“Geoff, right? You’re assigned to Whirligig because you’re only slightly more useful than an indoor tornado. But you do what I command. Ian gave you the over-view, but I’m team leader. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ian said, holding his hands together to keep them from spontaneously saluting.

“Meet at the bank, 0600.”

She spun on her heel and walked out.

~~

Geoff walked home, taking the time to go over the plan for the thousandth time in his head. His part was pretty simple – keep track of all the warm bodies in the building. Still, this was his first real operation.

He mindlessly followed the sidewalk to the bridge connecting downtown to little Saigon. Cars and trucks passed, shaking the bridge as they crossed over the metal grate. Cables ran from behind the guardrail to the spans above. Below, barges and tugs cut through the black, oily water.

Geoff was half-way across the bridge when the first spasm struck. He swallowed hard against the cramp in his gut and concentrated. Above and behind. He spun around and ran, using the increasing tingling on the top of his head as a guide. He felt his hair rise up at a pair of cables. He hopped onto the guardrail and started climbing.

Below, he vaguely noticed horns and shouting. All his attention was above him. The tread on his Cons stuck well to the metal cable. His head throbbed sharply, as if someone were pulling him up by his hair.

A bulk of blackness blocked out the lights of the lift-house. Geoff climbed carefully to a man caught between the cables and a truss. The man gave a shallow wheeze and a weak grunt.

“Don’t try to talk,” Geoff said. He braced his feet against the truss.

Above him, from the lift-house, a voice called out, “Lou? Is that you?”

“He’s caught,” Geoff yelled. “Is he strapped in? Can you pull his line?”

A snake of a climbing rope uncoiled from the man’s shoulders until it went taut.

“I can’t pull no more,” said the voice from above.

“Hold on,” Geoff said.

He grabbed one cable with each hand and pulled, pushing against the truss with his feet. Lou’s body slipped down a couple of inches. The voice from above gave a surprised cry, then grunted as Lou rose.

Geoff followed Lou to the lift-house. He collapsed on the catwalk, shaking violently. Hands dragged him inside, and he found himself sitting on the floor against a metal wall.

“Geez,” said the now-familiar voice. “I dunno who you are, but thanks.”

Geoff found a styrofoam cup in his hand and took a drink. He’d never had so much sugar in his coffee in his life, but, the way his hands shook, he probably needed it.

“How’s Lou?” Geoff asked, looking over at the prone figure on a bench.

“I bet he’s got some broke ribs, but he’s alright. Thanks to you. You some kinda hero or somethin’?”

Geoff pushed off the floor and commanded his knees to quit trembling. “I’m just an apprentice. Thanks for the coffee.” He drained his cup, threw it in the trash, and went outside.

“Wait,” the man said from the doorway. “What’s your name?”

Geoff climbed down into the stair cage. “Don’t have one.”

~~

Geoff got to the bank ten minutes late. All was forgiven, though, as he passed out coffee drinks to the rest of the team. Mirrormark was especially surprised to find soy milk in his. Geoff may not be able to weave incongruent crimes into a cohesive whole, but he knew enough to bribe the barista at the dock into spilling the regulars’ favorites.

Mirrormark had already set up the illusions that would lead the robbers to aim their weapons at thin air. Cloudcover was prepared with his namesake – water vapor to further confuse the crooks and, later, a quick-acting sleeping gas to anesthetize them. Geoff, wearing his only suit in an attempt to blend in with the bankers, took a tour of the four-story building. He then settled into a long, boring wait on the third floor.

Whirligig joined him at 8:30. The side-kick promptly sat down at the desk and pulled up weather sites on the internet. Geoff stood against the wall, fumbled with his earpiece, and tried to relax. He could “see” Greenhorn and Belle in position behind the counter. Aylia and Mirrormark’s side-kicks stood at a table in the lobby. Cloudcover and Mirrormark were in the staff break-room. Aylia made tours off the lobby.

At 8:53, the pang hit. Geoff dug his fingernails into his palms. This was not the time. The throbbing intensified. Sweat trailed down his back. His left calf tightened into a Charley horse.

Crashcart’s crew attacked at the same moment a cramp wracked Geoff’s entire body. He burst through the office door. Whirligig shouted, but Geoff kept running.

“Two on the roof,” he said, sprinting down a hall. “Going down the north stairwell.” He crashed through a door. “Four on the loading dock out back.” The window stuck fast before he thought to unlock it. “Three coming into the front. One’s turning left.”

Aylia’s voice seared his blood through the ear piece. “Geoff, report. Why have you left your station?”

Geoff swung out the window to a drainpipe. “Whirligig, the two from the roof are approaching your position.”

“Got ‘em,” came the reply. Papers blew out the open window as Geoff continued down.

“Greenhorn, the next in line is a baddy.” Geoff jumped the last six feet to the ground and raced across the alley. He turned over a pile of ragged clothes. Glassy, dilated eyes stared back at him from a face that looked like it might have been beautiful once.

“Uh, Cloudcover? Set off the screens by the vault hallway.” Geoff picked up the woman. She weighed next to nothing. Her arm dropped open and a needle fell to the ground. He jogged down the alley.

Voices buzzed at him from the earpiece, but he cut them off. “Aylia, next to you. I think it’s the boss.” Geoff flagged down a cop, just pulling up. He put the woman in the front seat.

“Take her to the hospital. I think she OD’d.”

The cop looked at Geoff as if he’d just deposited a dead possum in his bed. “Crashcart’s robbing a bank, and you’re worried about a junkie?”

The woman’s spasm mirrored the cramp in Geoff’s gut. “Hurry! She’s dying!” Geoff staggered away from the patrol car. Another throb almost sent him to his knees. But it wasn’t coming from the car.

“I gotta go,” he said, running back to the bank.

He burst through the front doors into chaos. Smoke and vapor filled the air. Mirrormark’s reflections turned the lobby into a fun house. Geoff took two steps and tripped over a body on the floor. He fell hard into a high table and stumbled back on his feet.

Shouts, screams, and cries of surrender came at him from all sides. He closed his eyes, held out his hands to ward off any furniture, and concentrated.

The pull flickered. He was going to be too late. He ran, tackling a heavy form and dragging it with him to the ground.

An electric shock passed through his body. He kept hold of the man, gritting his teeth against the burn on his arms and the smell of scorched suit.

The shock stopped. His arms were on fire, but his stomach relaxed. “Let go,” said a woman’s voice. The haze of smoke faded into blackness.

~~

Geoff waited for the “click” and gingerly pushed open the door. His arms, wrapped in bandages, protested. Still, considering just a week before he’d begged the surgeons to cut them off, he didn’t feel too bad.

He passed the locker room – you can’t wear lycra over an inch of wound dressing and, after the stunt he pulled, they’d probably already changed the lock on his cubby and sold his possessions. Spyder had tried to reassure him that apprentices were expected to mess up, but Geoff didn’t think this exactly qualified as a simple beginner’s mistake.

Aylia and Ian were already in the briefing room, talking to a tall, sixty-something man with white hair.

“Ah, Geoff,” Ian said. “Welcome back. You know Aylia, of course, and this is –”

“The Corpsman,” Geoff said, holding out his hand. “I thought you were retired and living on Kaua’i. It’s an honor, sir.”

The hero raised an eyebrow at Ian while shaking Geoff’s hand.

Ian chuckled. “Yes, our newest side-kick has the uncanny ability to know just the right information about his heroes – down to the flavoring in their mocha-frappe-chinos.”

Something clicked in Geoff’s head. “Side-kick? Me?” He looked, wide-eyed, at the Corpsman. “For him?”

“If that’s alright with you,” Aylia said snidely.

“But, I disobeyed orders. I risked the whole operation and almost got Aylia killed.”

Ian looked chagrined and rubbed the back of his neck. But Aylia stood taller and became almost opaque.

“Orders are given according to the situation and the abilities of the parties involved,” she said. “Your abilities were not comprehensively documented. Therefore, your orders were incomplete and inappropriate.”

Ian managed to look both apologetic and proud at the same time. “That rescue on the bridge – that was you?”

Geoff nodded. “I couldn’t help it. He needed me. And the woman in the alley, will she be OK?”

The Corpsman crossed his arms in front of his chest and beamed. Geoff had no idea why.

“Yes,” Ian said. “She’ll have a hard go of it, but she did survive, and she’s determined to stay clean.” He sat back on the table. “Geoff, when you came to us, we thought your power was merely the ability to locate others within a certain radius.”

“Isn’t it?” Geoff asked.

“No. You don’t see people. You see life. And, more importantly, you see life threatened.”

The Corpsman nodded. “And you cannot help but protect life, can you?”

Geoff didn’t reply. He protected life? So many things made sense, now. From his inability to kill spiders (although, he had no reservation about roaches) to his weekly, compulsive shopping runs for Mrs. Nguyen.

Aylia punched his shoulder. “You’re a hot commodity. Every hero worth his salt would kill for a side-kick who has no choice but to save his partner’s bacon.”

“Which is why you belong with us,” said the Corpsman. “We’re a small organization, dedicated to rescuing the rescuers. Kind of Special Forces meets Medi-evac.”

Geoff breathed out a sigh of relief. Maybe he’d be able to make rent after all.

Ian picked up a box from the floor. “Sorry we didn’t let you in on the design, but the docs were afraid visitors would increase the risk of infection.” He set the box on the table and removed the lid.

Geoff pulled out the blue and black suit. The cloth felt stiff, thicker than his old lycra, but just as light.

“Latest nano-polymer technology,” the Corpsman said. “Can’t be burned, ripped, or punctured.”

Geoff shook it out. It was perfect. The abstract design on the chest caught his eye.

“‘LL’? What’s that for?” he asked.

“Every hero needs a handle,” Ian said. “Yours is LifeLine.”