A Shireen Story (Patreon Exclusive)

Summary: Shireen’s never been a Hero. But she has worked for them before…

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Author’s Note: Hey y’all! Here’s a short story about Shireen before the events of The Civilian and the Reluctant Hero. It’s some needed backstory before the next part :) It’s been a challenge to balance both Shireen‘s and Grant’s perspectives so I definitely needed this short story to get through the rest of theirs! Thanks for reading!

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Once upon a time, there was a little girl who believed in heroes. Not just one type of hero either. She believed in all of them. Gallant ladies on horses and charming young men with spellbooks. People in desperate circumstances who rose to the occasion and people with riches who confronted the evil within.

She believed. Oh, she believed.

But she did not believe she was capable of becoming one herself.

It is easy to shatter the dreams of a child. They’re spun like glass and catch on the words spoken around them. The little girl remembers a time long, long ago when she dreamed of becoming a hero.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” her mother said from behind the bathroom door. “They’ve got Supers for that. There’s nothing Super about you.”

And like a child, she felt her delicate dream disintegrate in the palm of her hands. Because, at six, she knew her mother was right. The power-detecting people who visited her school didn’t pull her aside like they did Scott and Michelle and Aubrey. They patted her on the head when she asked them if she could ever work for Hero Force like them.

“Of course,” the man said. He looked at his partner and then back down at her. His mouth quirked. “In one way or another anyone can help Hero Force. Even if it’s just cheering them on.”

One way or another. A child’s dreams are easy to shatter, but they’re also easy to sprout. Anyone can help.

The little girl carries these truths with her, right next to the one her mother gave her.

You are not Super.

Anyone can help.

One way or another.

Shireen grows up.

——————.

The first Hero she meets is kind of a dickhead.

Shireen glances up at him from under her bangs. He’s refusing to take a seat in the waiting room next to everybody else. The regulation black mask - a necessity in Hero HQ when a Hero isn’t patrolling - sits forlornly on the counter between them. Instead he’s wearing his (highly identifiable) neon green mask alongside his (highly identifiable) green bodysuit.

“Sir,” Shireen says, “I need you to take a seat if you’re going to wait for a consultant—“

“I am,” the Hero says, “a B-rank Hero.”

And then he stares at her expectantly, arms folded over his chest, lips twisted to one side.

Shireen’s been trained for interactions like this. Her supervisor had warned her about heroes who thought they were too important for Hero Force rules. He warned her that many of them didn’t see themselves as “employees” so much as “benevolent benefactors” and, as such, didn’t see the point in honoring normal working conventions.

“I understand that,” Shireen says. She’s got a button under the desk to call for her supervisor, but she doesn’t want to press it yet. It’s her first day and doesn’t think it’ll look good to call for help right away. “However, due to high customer volume, there is currently a two hour wait—“

“I don’t wait!” A sickly green mist begins to drift up from the Hero’s skin. In the waiting area, three of the five occupants are suddenly very, very interested in what’s happening. The Hero doesn’t notice.  “I am Radioactive, Team Leader and Heavy Hitter of the Luminescent Group—“

Shireen watches the Hero have a complete meltdown. His list of titles seems pretty long for someone who’s almost as new to Hero Force as her and, despite the noxious looking mist, he doesn’t look like he’s set on attacking her.

“Sir,” Shireen says. She shortens the syllable, hissing it through her teeth. Her supervisor told her not to shy away from yelling at Heroes acting out of line. After dealing with villain banter, they shouldn’t flinch at a powerless receptionist getting a little loud. “Referencing your identity is prohibited in Hero HQ.”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you how to do your job—“

“I wasn’t finished speaking,” Shireen says, holding up one hand. He’s still talking, but Shireen doesn’t raise her voice to match him. “Your powers also look to be out of control. If you need assistance controlling them—“

“What?” The mist is nearly two inches off his skin now. “What did you just say?”

Heroes, Shireen thinks, are annoying. “Control your power, sir, or we won’t be able to help you.”

“My name is Radioactive,” the man wails. “I need to see a consultant to make my paperwork right!”

Ah. She thought it was weird that he was calling himself that. The Hero that wears lime green like that is supposed to be called Slime Man not Radioactive. “This is why I needed you to fill out the paperwork, sir. We’re the Alias department.”

“Yes, and I need my alias changed—“

“Which happens in the Alias Resources Department.” Shireen uses her pen to point at the door behind him. “Across the hall.”

Slime Man stares at her.

Shireen stares back. After a long moment, she says, “Common mistake.”

“You let me argue with you for half an hour in the wrong waiting room?”

“I told you to fill out your paperwork,” Shireen says simply.

It’s the wrong thing to say.

Slime Man draws himself up to his full height, hands fisting at his sides. “And why,” Slime Man says, slowly and deliberately, “did you not tell me that first?”

Shireen doesn’t know if he’s serious. She looks over his shoulder to the others in the waiting room. They’re all sitting on the edges of their seats now, but most likely won’t interfere. Fighting in HQ is a fireable offense. “Sir, there’s a pretty clear sign on the door—“

“Shut up.” Slime Man’s nostrils flare. He steps right up to the counter, so close that some of his mist brushes the wood. The wood blackens. “Are you making fun of me?”

Shireen is fairly certain her expression hasn’t changed a bit during this entire interaction. Still, she can read the rising tension in Slime Man’s shoulders. She presses the panic button and then folds her hands on top of the counter. Her watch catches the sickly green glow coming off of Slime Man. “No, sir. I am only working to help you.”

“Help me? Help me?” Slime Man’s mist is turning gelatinous on his skin like a thin layer of Jell-o. “You’re clearly not capable of helping me. All you’ve done is waste my time!”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Shireen says. “It is the goal of the Alias Department to assist—“

“I FIGHT FOR THIS CITY!” Slime Man roars suddenly. His goo begins to drop to the floor and, where it touches, smoke rises. The counter smolders. “I put my life on the line! Who are you to mock me? To ridicule me? I’m a Super! The least you can do is respect me. I’m the whole reason you can even go home at night—“

Right. Shireen’s stalled him for a minute and backup still isn’t here. Her supervisor must be on lunch. The masked heroes behind Slime Man are rising and having them step in will cause this to be an Incident.

Shireen pulls her hands away from the encroaching acidic ooze. She wants to warn him, but that’s against her training. She reaches beneath the counter, past the panic button, and flicks the switch.

Two metal prongs jab through the small holes at the front of the counter. They’re meant to work at distances up to five feet. At close range, Slime Man is immediately lit up with a special sort of electric current. When it races through him, his slime dissipates. His whole body convulses for a long moment and then, with little fanfare, his eyes roll up into the back of his head as he keels over backwards.

Shireen is left staring at the other occupants of the waiting room. The three heroes who’ve been monitoring the situation stare at her in something like shock. It’s hard to tell behind the black masks.

My first day and I taze a Hero. Not what I imagined.

“I apologize for the disturbance,” Shireen says dutifully. She stands slowly. Her knees are shaky, but solid enough to walk around the counter. “Your wait time will not be affected by this incident.”

The only sound in the waiting room is the click of her heels against the linoleum as she makes her way to the door. She peeks out into the hall and breathes out through her nose with relief when she sees a uniformed Hero walking by. “Strongwoman. Do you have a moment?”

Strongwoman’s thick eyebrows fly up. “Me? You need my help?”

Shireen’s heard the rumors about Strongwoman. Although barely five feet in height, her punch is strong enough to kill three people all in a line. Her supervisor gave her a list of Heroes to stay clear of in case of “incidents” and Strongwoman’s name had been right at the top.

Considering Slime Man’s name hadn’t been on that list, she’s already decided to ignore it.

“Please,” Shireen says. She holds the door open. Strongwoman’s eyebrows climb higher when she lays eyes on Slime Man. “If you can escort this gentleman to HR? He’s experienced some difficulty using the facilities.”

There’s a muffled laugh from behind her. Shireen ignores it.

Strongwoman’s lips twitch. “Is he now?” When she heads into the Alias Department, her steps are noticeably heavier. The ground rumbles menacingly. “You having some trouble, Slime Man?”

Slime Man’s eyes flutter and his arms twitch against the ground. “Wha—what happened?”

“You messed with support staff,” Strongwoman says. Is that a trace of glee in her voice? “I finally get to drag you to HR.”

Shireen clicks her way around the counter, eyeing Strongwoman as she very easily drops Slime Man over her shoulder. “Ma’am, I do want to warn you that the gentleman is having difficulty controlling his powers. They are—“ she eyes the smoking holes in her counter “—corrosive.”

Strongwoman whistles, turning her head slightly so she can look over her own shoulder towards Slime Man’s head. “You used your powers on support staff?”

“Your grip,” Slime Man wheezes, “is a little tight.”

“Yeah,” one of the masked heroes in the waiting room says. They rub their hands together and rock back and forth in their chair. “He was yelling too.”

Strongwoman is definitely smiling now. It is not a nice smile. “Did he? I’ll be sure to mention that to HR.”

“Wait,” Slime Man says with some alarm. He struggles to lift himself up while dangling from Strongwoman’s shoulder. “Wait, wait, wait, let’s talk about this—!”

Shireen watches Strongwoman cart Slime Man away. Only when the door slams shut behind them does she finally reclaim her seat behind the counter. He didn’t use his power on her. Because Strongwoman is a Super? With a huff, Shireen searches for a pen.

The masked hero who ratted Slime Man out for yelling clears their throat. “You, ah, handled that well. I haven’t seen you around before. What department did you transfer from?”

Shireen pulls a few blank incident forms out of her drawer. “I didn’t transfer. Today’s my first day.”

“Oh geez,” a woman in the back corner says. She rubs the back of her neck. “And you got him? Sorry about that.”

“We’re not all like that,” the first one says. They clear their throat again. “Promise.”

Shireen wants to say a lot of things to that. Why is he a Hero? Because he’s Super? Why did he have to yell like that? Why didn’t any of you say something?

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help to him,” Shireen finally says. She glances at her computer screen. “Client 72, the consultant is free to see you.”

And her day goes on.