MONSTEROPOLIS EPISODE 1:
Heroes and Villains

By Hadrian (Hardman) Howell

Chapter 2

-Megaopolis 117th Precinct House
-February 13th, 2096 AD
-Account Subject: Samantha Aran

Cigar smoke hung acridly in the air. Johnson was chewing on the end of the thing while he reviewed my file. It was packed with information on my various assignments. I’ve been assigned as a beat cop to almost every district and posting in Megaopolis at one point or another.

And now my latest dead-end post was here in the 117th. This precinct was both famous and infamous. Sure, it had ‘hero cop’ Detective John Spencer and his foul-mouthed partner Lara, but trust me, I’ve seen enough heroes to know none of them are actually as good as you get led to believe.

Samuel Johnson, the sergeant in charge of the precinct, seemed just as pleased as I was that I was here. “You’re record is lengthy, and you got a long history of insubordination,” he noted. His tone was gruff, but not entirely disapproving.

“I speak my mind, sir.” I offered after another moment of silence.

“You can cut the ‘sir’ crap,” Johnson snorted. “You’ve obviously got issues with authority, and I can stand being called Sam, Sarge, or whatever else you come up with if it means you don’t start off with any reservations about dealing with me.”

I was a little taken aback. This man seemed to understand that cooperation and trust was more important than petty orders. Amazing. “Thank you,” I replied.

“You trained under Malkovich?” I got the impression this was less a question and more a remark. Malkovich… Adam was a respected trainer. He was brilliant, intuitive, and had served more than enough time in the Megaopolis Police Force to easily make the transition to his new post at the Office of Internal Affairs.

“He was a good teacher,” I nodded.

“He was a DAMN good teacher!” Johnson laughed, standing up. “Damn, lady, stand by a conviction or two. It feels good.”

I was now completely confused by this man.

“Come with me, I’ll show you around.”

We stepped out of his smoke-filled office to be greeted with cheers from a smattering of bodies clustered around a TV. Johnson shot me a look, rolled his eyes, grinned and, with the cigar still in his mouth, strolled over.

“And what do we have here?” He asked no one in particular.

“Someone’s beating the crap out of Captain Commando,” someone closer to the TV responded. “Reports say it’s Megaman, but I don’t know. Looks almost like that S.O.N.I.C. guy to me.”

“How can you fuggin’ tell?” came a voice I recognized from the news. Spencer’s partner, Lara. “All these hero morons are blue! ALL of them! Chopper cams suck,” she added almost as an afterthought.

I shifted to the edge of the group to get a look. The camera work was pretty shaky, but it was easy to recognize the gouts of flame and the bolts of lightning coming from the one with the shock of blonde hair. Captain Commando’s bracers comprised almost his entire offensive arsenal aside from an amount of martial skill.

He wasn’t landing a blow though. The other guy was fast and nimble. He’d be rocketing forward one moment and then cart wheeling out of the way the next and he was pulling it off with precision that was pretty impressive. He rushed in and there was a shake of the camera as someone on the helicopter winced in response to what they saw.

“OH!” was a collective groan from the men assembled. “Oh, he’s gonna feel that in the morning.”

“Wait, it seems that the assailant took more than a cheap shot at Commando…” the report on scene was saying. “He… Yes! He has Captain Commando’s left bracer and…”

There was a flash of lightning and a burst of static on the screen. The noise of the assembled crowd, both through the TV and in the office, intensified. Commando flew backwards, hitting the ground and rolling like a rag doll for a good distance.

‘Megaman’ wasn’t letting up, though. Almost instantly, he was on top of Monsteropolis’s superhero again, and this time the cameraman got a clear shot of him ripping off Commando’s remaining bracer. After one more unceremonious face stomping, Megaman ran off.

No time was wasted. “Somebody owes me ten bucks,” Lara piped up. “Who was that?” Several men with nervous expressions rapidly found better places to be. Johnson, on the other hand, turned to me.

“Well, you see the kinds of things cops are up against in this town? I think its time you and the precinct armory got better acquainted.”

I nodded. “I admit, for an opponent like that, I would like something with a bit more punch than a 9mm.” I looked over my shoulder to see someone who was still staring at the TV. She was slim, a dirty blonde with a green ribbon keeping her hair in a rough ponytail. She had a badge and a headset that picked her out as a police dispatcher. She also looked really, really angry. Probably a fan of the guy who’d just gotten his face stepped on.

Johnson laughed, motioning me to follow him as he made his way toward a door to the basement. “Don’t worry Aran, I know what the ladies like.”