Heroid

I wasn’t looking forward to going out tonight. It’s not that I don’t enjoy the nightlife here – I do, and very much so, whether I’m performing incognito in a piano lounge, or dancing and dining with Miu. No, it was our hosts that caused my trepidation. Something about him… And her voice was not right. It was old.

I had almost talked myself into excusing Miu and I from the outing when I heard a familiar “ding” from my laptop. Someone had IM”d me, and I’d be a liar if I said that my heart didn’t race when I saw who it was. GreenAngelofMercy.

For weeks, I had seen myself as Michael Marcone. “Smith” and “Clint” seemed like some other person who no longer existed. And yet, deep down, I couldn’t completely let go of my former life. There was someone from that life who would always anchor me to it.

Jessie.

Before I came to the Isles, all of my memories, good and bad, centered on her. All of my emotions. All of my desires. All of my dreams.

No other girl – Steph, Julia, Ally, not even Miu – could unbind the silken tangles of that love. I am sure that until the day I meet my final fate – and beyond -- I will love Jessie Eagle and her only.

I sat down and returned her greeting, let her know I was available, waited anxiously to see what she was messaging me about.

What was I hoping for? I wanted an, “I love you.” Or maybe a, “Please, come to me – I can’t live without you.”

But she could live without me. And I, though I loathe to admit it, could live without her. I just couldn’t be happy.

Was that why I had made up a whole new life? To play pretend that I didn’t need her anymore?

She typed her message and my heart sank back to its normal depths.

What she typed floored me. Stephanie Martin had gone “bad”. Jessie gave me a link to a news story about it. Steph was mad at the world and had become a “bad girl”. I laughed when I read it. About time, actually, I thought. No one can live up to a squeaky clean image forever. Especially when they’re not squeaky clean.

Good for her.

But the school – Maggie’s Rock – was upset about the whole thing. They were convinced that Steph had been coerced or brainwashed or somesuch. They couldn’t accept that maybe she was just unhappy and needed the space to figure out who she was, even if that space was in Etoile.

The school was in a tizzy about it and they went to Jessie to get her to contact me to get me to use the psychic link that Steph and I share to find her. Jessie correctly assumed that the link flowed only one way, and that was from Steph to me. Any attempt on my part to reach into the mind of another or to initiate telepathic contact always resulted in intense pain for the other person – or sometimes worse.

At any rate, my powers were useless in this instance, but I had connections now, and I could use them. If Steph was in the Isles, someone had to know, and that someone had to know someone else. In the end, by degrees, the Family knows everyone.

So I told Jessie to tell them I’d help. Probably stupid of me to agree to do so, since it will make them suspicious that I am in Etoile too. Not that it matters. I like the lifestyle that I have here. I like the status being Michael Marcone affords me. And someday, perhaps Miu and I will become something more than pretend lovers.

But Jessie was IM’ing me. She told me that she had to go now, but would be back on later, and I promised her I would be waiting.

Then I waited for her to return from “idle”.

I waited for her return until Miu reminded me it was going on ten o’clock, and we had to go meet the others at the club.

I left Jessie an away message. I wanted it to say, “I love you.”

What it said was, “SlippedMyMind is away...”

My cell phone playing the Godfather theme wakes me out of a sound sleep. I grab it before it wakes Miu, and give a quick glance to the bed to see that she is still slumbering peacefully.

“Hello?” I say.

“Yo, Mick,” Tiny says as my waking mind fights to process who “Mick” is.

Of course Mick is short for Michael, who is me. Michael Marcone. Not Smith. Smith is who I was.

“C’mon downstairs, Mickey, I got somebody for ya ta meet.”

My back pops as I rise from the bedroom sofa on which I sleep. Rolling my head loosens the kinks in my neck and after a couple of stretches I get dressed. Before I leave, I go to wake Miu to let her know I’m gone, but then I realize there is no need. No reason for both of us to get up early today. I’m sure she’s as tired from last night as I am – maybe more so. After the night we had, terrorizing other factions and busting up that rival smuggling operation, and then the bar fight -- it was exhilarating!

I kiss Miu’s cheek and leave her lying there, beautiful and exotic, wrapped in satin.

My apartment door opens straight into an elevator (how cool is that!) and I’m downstairs in no time. Tiny is in the building’s lobby, sitting in a chair facing me. A couple of people sit on the sofa with their backs to me. One is a tall man with a shaved head. He has tattoos on his neck. More than that I cannot see of him. Beside him sits a woman with curly blonde hair. She turns to look at me as the elevator doors open and although she’s exceptionally pretty, something about her sends a shiver up my spine.

“Mickey Marcone,” Tiny says as he rises, “I want ya ta meet Aris Polemo an’ his girl, Chloe.”

The tall man stands and faces me while his girl goes back to the magazine in her lap. He wears a leather jacket, embellished with metal studs. His pants are also leather – expensive leather – that cover pointy-toed boots with ornamental steel toe caps.

I recognize the tall man as the one who punched my shoulder after the war council, but there’s something else familiar about him. Something about him that is screaming alarms in my memory.

“Aris is with your cousin Gino’s crew. He’s takin’ Sonny Cicione’s place, may God rest his soul. Aris, this’s Michael Marcone – Mickey to his friends.”

I nod to Polemo in salutation, but remain silent and wary.



Polemo smiles, and I see his teeth are capped with steel. When he speaks, he rumbles and booms like Hell spitting up magma.

“Hi, Mickey,” he says, “I’ve been hearing good things about you.”

I return his smile with one equally insincere and say, “Then someone’s been lying to you.”

We men laugh. Chloe just turns her pretty face up at me and gives me a funny smile.

“She likes you,” Polemo says.

“She’s charming,” I say, trying to be complimentary while being careful not to say anything that could be construed as flirting.

“Chloe is a good judge of character,” he continues explaining. “You might say she’s good at taking the measure of a man.”

I just smile and nod because I have no idea of what he’s getting at.

The elevator dings and the door opens, and out steps Miu. She doesn’t look happy. It’s not obvious to anyone but me, I’m sure, but I can tell she’s displeased that she woke up and I was gone. She’s my protector and my companion. But then Tiny is my bodyguard, so as long as I’m with one or the other, I feel pretty safe. But then, Miu is much better to look at than Tiny…

Before I can open my mouth to introduce her, Tiny says, “Aris, Chloe – this is Miu, Mickey’s girl.”

Miu smiles in greeting, but her eyes are assessing them. Miu is pretty good with her own measure.

“I’m very pleased to meet you,” she says.

Tiny speaks up again, saying, “Miu’s quite a gal. If I was thirty years younger, I’d take her away from you Mickey.”

I laugh, but really didn’t find it that funny. Miu however has a satisfied smirk on her face and I realize that, yes, if he was thirty years younger, he probably would take her away from me.

“I can see why,” Polemo says, then punches my arm again. “You’d better keep her happy, Mickey. I’m sure Tiny’s not the only guy who’s noticed her.”

All right, this whole conversation is making me uncomfortable.

“Hey, Arie,” Chloe says, speaking for the first time. Her voice cracks and creaks and sounds like it belongs to a much older woman. “Why don’t we invite them to go to the Polka Dot Lounge with us tonight? Tiny too.”

Miu looks at me and I can tell she wants me to decline the offer. I don’t know what she senses about these two, but it can’t be good.

I begin my polite turn down with, “Actually—“

“Hey, that sounds great!” Tiny cuts me off, smiling, always glad for night on the town, always up for a party.

“Wonderful,” Polemo says. “Around ten. We’ll meet you there. You know where it is, don’t you?”

“Yeah, sure,” Tiny says, sealing the deal.

Polemo looks at me then, and a chill runs down my spine as he says, “I hope you’re looking forward to it as much as we are.”

((Get well soon! ))

((Yep. It's the proper thing to do.))

((No time to write lately so... bump. ))

((Hey, Sorah! Here's what you couldn't see during the base tour:





Wish you'd had your graphics set higher -- it's cooler in person. ))

((Lots of love and respect from me to you, Sorah. Follow your dreams. ))

((Remember the classic two-parter where Jill St. John was the Riddler's bad girl, and fell in love with Batman while she was disguised as Robin? And how about the way the Robin mask made her breasts disappear? Ahhhh... those were the days.))

((Uh-oh -- time for a preemptive subject!

Ghost Rider is better than any other Marvel movie except for Iron Man, which is the best superhero movie ever (with the possible exception of Hellboy). ))

((Glad they got their butts unplugged. ))

((Grats on the drawing and on living another year. Yeah. In that order.

Happy Birthday! ))

((Happy Birthday to our anthropomorphised quadrupedal prebuescent canine friend! ))