Contrary to popular belief, there are good cops.
You know, because you sit in the Wafflehouse with the people in your neighborhood and you hear about it. You go to the same barber as the guy you stopped on the highway the other day. The guy you gave a ticket to because ‘the cannonball run don’t start in Georgia, Denzel, go the hell home, your Mama’s gon whoop your ass, brat’.
You know that some people have had decent conversations with you.
You know Earl turns into a monster every payday. You know that Denzel got suspended from school for turning so many kids into monsters. You know because you talked to Mrs. Annie that those days often correlate to the days his daddy’s home.
There are good cops. You know that because you joined up to be one.
You watch the monster tear through downtown Atlanta and you wonder if anyone else saw this coming.
Your rookie of a partner is driving because you’re the nicest damn person in the whole world. His mouth is hanging open as he watches all six legs pull the hulking purple and blue mass that used to be The Beyonder across the interstate. Beyonder’s eyes are black and dripping black mucus. Everywhere it drips, it corrodes through the material. Even metal and stone.
He appears to be heading to City Hall.
“Should I call it in?” Your rookie partner isn’t a bad person, but he’s also not a good person. No one is a good person in their twenties, it takes until the thirties before you even find out what kind of person you really are.
“Feel like maybe ya should,” you say, because kids these days.
Your partner calls it in, like the rest of the city hasn’t noticed a creature the size of a Goodyear Blimp making its way downtown.
They tell you to fall back. Some heroes will be on the scene soon.
They were right, unfortunately.
A bright pink flying monstrosity soars overhead, his jaws full of razer sharp teeth. The fact that these monster forms resemble their former selves’ hero costumes should mean something, but you watch as Excelsior opens massive six-toed talons and slams Beyonder into a college building.
Your partner is frozen, so you kick him out of the car and peal out, driving for City Hall, ordering him to evacuate the college, which he fortunately runs off to do.
You drive straight through town, sirens blaring, car careening back and forth. You have your loudspeaker on.
“Move toward the edge of the city in a calm and orderly fashion!” You repeat, over and over again as you drive, to evacuate the area.
Normal people turn into monsters every day.
But heroes?
Heroes are national disasters.
“Remain calm!” Another police cruiser nearly hits a group of civilians fleeing as he screams into his intercom. “REMAIN! CALM!” He sounds like he’s in tears.
Your sirens wail at him and you pick up the radio.
“Car 2050 to Car 1805, calm the hell down.” You thought you’d be more diplomatic, except diplomacy is the first thing to go in a crisis.
“Eddie!?” Your fellow cop is Ronald Kells and you are already tired of talking to him. “Eddie what the hell is goin on?!”
“The Beyonder and Excelsior are both havin rough days. Code M.” You make your voice less grim and more commanding. “You get civilians out. Priority one is savin lives, Ron. Get these people out of here in one piece.”
“Copy that Eddie.” Ron has never been your favorite, but you see his car turning around to take one of the main roads around the edge of the city, toward a hospital. “Good Luck,” he says and you grunt.
You drive through town, moving through traffic and dodging busses and emergency vehicles. You can see Beyonder and Excelsior fighting their way into the high rises.
“Move toward the edge of the city-” you repeat over and over again.
“What are you even going to do?!” One desperate woman and her baby are stuck in the throng. “Shoot it?!”
“No ma’am.” That hasn’t helped much in your opinion. “I’m gonna find out what happened.”
People don’t usually stop being Monsters until their emotional toll has run out. whatever upset Beyonder and Excelsior doesn’t look like it’ll blow over quickly.
You call your son, who is blissfully in the suburbs with his mother.
“Dad?!” Allen sounds so frightened.
“Hey bud,” you drive crazily down some stairs and onto a street closer to City Hall. “Can you do your pop a favor?”
“Are you okay?! I heard someone went Monster in town?!” Allen is a good kid, but he’s fifteen, maybe you’re putting too much pressure on him.
“Never mind that, bud. I need you to look up Beyonder and Excelsior on the social medias.” You pull over in a plaza and step out the door of the car, looking up as Beyonder and Excelsior get closer. A chopper is circling Beyonder’s head. News, it looks like. Crazy journalists.
“Why do you-”
“Allen!” You grip the door of your cruiser tightly. “Just tell me if anything happened today.”
There’s a silence on the line where Beyonder and Excelsior crash through two historical society buildings and the dust of their massive bodies going through Civil War era architecture buffets you in shockwaves. You hide behind the door of your car.
“Uh, looks like Beyonder and Excelsior are being relocated to South Carolina and Louisiana?” Allen clicks on his device, the haptic feedback ringing in your ear. You press the phone to your shoulder to free up both hands and reach for your loudspeaker. “The Mayor says we don’t have enough crime, or something?”
“Thanks kiddo. Love you.” You listen as Allen starts asking questions, then close the phone, lifting the comm up to your mouth.
“Attention Beyonder and Excelsior!” Your voice sounds tinny and emotionless through the speakers on your car. You blare the siren once just to see if they’ll pay attention to you. “I’m Officer Eddie-”
The crash through a building in front of you drowns out your typical greeting, and suddenly Beyonder’s face is right in front of your car, his three rows of massive teeth opening as if to swallow your cruiser- and you- whole.
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to!” You shout through the speakers instead of following any kind of protocol. “There isn’t just one way to be a hero!”
Excelsior and Beyonder are lying in a heap, maybe they were dazed, or maybe they can understand you. You don’t know, but this is the best you’ve got.
You hope Millie and her new husband are happy. That your sister will send you a pie for the holidays for another year. You hope that the guy next door from you learns how to cook better. You hope the Jazz player at the mall comes back when everything is said and done.
You hope Beyonder doesn’t eat you.
Big black eyes stare at you, corrosive mucus dripping onto the tile, making a horrific hiss with every splash. Neither he nor Excelsior move.
“You got options,” you say, with confidence. “You don’t gotta do what they say.”
“Officer,” a voice says, gravelly and deep, even as Excelsior turns into a man in a pink suit with red accents. Even with the suit mangled and covered in blood he looks like a hero. He is still lying on Beyonder’s muzzle, hasn’t moved. “You’re telling us not to follow the rules?”
“Rules are supposed to help people.” You are still talking into your receiver, your tinny voice only getting half your point across. “Y’all are people.”
Excelsior looks so small next to Beyonder. He falls off Beyonder’s face, burns himself in the mucus, but before you can move to pull him out, one big black claw is carefully pushing Excelsior to safety.
And then Beyonder, all Red-white-blue-and-purple of him is sitting amid the sludge.
He can’t be more than eighteen years old. You never knew these heroes were so young.
You step away from your car, cross the plaza to the two heroes, staring at you. Both unmasked, not that you know who they are. Not that you’ll ever tell.
You sit down between them, right in the thick of it. And you say the only words a cop ever needs to say to the people he’s protecting and serving:
“Okay, how can I help?”