Page 49 of No Capes
The next day, after babysitting, I step off bus 3 to beholdLeague of Comics.I haven’t been here since Jamie Levine used to beg Fox and me to bring him, and it has changed a ton, especially in the last few years. Only a few things remain the same: the red neon script above the automatic door with the store’s name and the beige welcome mat that reads,Welcome to our friendly neighborhood store.
League of Comicsused to be more low-key. It had been closet-sized, made from black brick with long windows. Tall wardrobes had held hundreds of collector’s edition comics: Marvel, D.C., Dark Horse, and Valiant. There had been an extra-special collection in the back from local artists who created original art and stories. Now, the original store exists inside the first four stories of a towering, mega-building that’s half comic store and half café. The owners replaced the vintage wardrobes with high, paneled shelves that mechanically deposit books into buyers’ shopping carts, like a vending machine.
One positive aspect of the expansion, however, is that the stock of comics multiplied exponentially. Capital City is more obsessed than ever with the fictional heroes from humanity’s past.
Hallowfest is tomorrow night, and the store might be closed then, so I need to visitLeaguetoday. It’s a perfectly normal and total coincidence that could not have worked out better ifI’d aligned every star in the galaxy and planned this trip for years, that Damian Scott Jr. is working tonight. He fiddles with receipts by the first-floor register and spots me the moment I walk in.
“Oh, hey, Madeline.” He plasters on a gorgeous smile. “Haven’t seen you in here for a while. What can I help you find?”
Damian’s work uniform is a navy-blue polo and mustard khakis, the same colors as Batman.Is that on purpose?It must be. The forks at the cafe have Spiderman webs on them, Wolverine claws stick out from shelves as makeshift coat hangers, and beanbag chairs shaped like Wonder Woman’s tiara occupy every corner.
“Yeah,” I say, “Do you have a section on Aquaman? Or anyone like him? My dad’s birthday is coming up, and he’d love a comic with, um, that type of hero.”
“For sure. Like water manipulation?” Damian leads me to the elevator, past stacks and shelves of red and orange magazines. This quarter of the store, in fact, isonlyred and orange comics.
“We used to sort comics alphabetically by protagonist, but when we expanded everything got more corporate,” Damian explains. “Now we’re arranged by color, which is prettier, I guess, but makes it impossible to find things without a guide. Is there a particular series you wanted?”
He presses the button for the elevator, and takes us to the fourth floor. There are only four buttons that he or I could have pressed, but several more exist beside a scanner that someone with a key could unlock. Those must be where the comic stash is, the rare ones. This place is legit.
“Um,” I respond.
Damian’s light brown eyes never leave mine.He must sell millions of comic books.When people come in the store, that is, presumably on the weekends. “If you want more historical comics, based on Supers that Capital City has seen, we have asection for those too. Poseida’s the only water-powered Super, I think.”
“Yes, that,” I say.
“Sweet.” The elevator dings and Damian leads me to the farthest part of the store from the entrance. A circular table holds a tower of comics in all colors, surrounding a model skyscraper from Capital City’s historical district that still features the in-tact Milligan mansion. A fitting display for the historical section. Damian peruses the piles, then hands me a thick, glossy book. “Here’s the tale of Materio versus Poseida. If you have time, I can round up some more water-Super stories.”
“That would be great,” I reply. When he leaves, I flip through Poseida’s story. I came toLeague of Comicshoping to learn more about Supers and my powers situation. I hope they can give me ideas of what to test, since all I know is that my powers have something to do with water. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to remembering:I havesuperpowers.Absolutely unbelievable. And awesome. And terrifying.
Poseida doesn’t wear a mask in the comics, just like in real life, and she wears purple lipstick that matches her deep sea-colored spandex.
Poseida battled Materio for two days, and her goal was to control Capital City’s treasury. The book doesn’t delve into why, but I remember Kristen’s always argued that Poseida’s motives were genuine, even though no sources could confirm it. History being written by the victors, and all that. Poseida threatened to pull tsunamis over the city if she couldn’t get what she wanted, which seems nefarious enough to me.
By the comic’s account, Poseida almost bested Materio by conjuring floods and throwing powerful jet streams. She could also use water to shield herself from attacks and falling debris. According to the comic record, Materio finally bested her bytransfiguring the tops of skyscrapers into angled trampolines, which directed her water jet back at her.
“Alrighty,” Damian says, pulling me out of the story. He holds a considerable stack of about fifteen different books. “These have about every variety of water-Super that there is. You got your standard hydro-telekinesis, which is using water to lift or throw objects; water propulsion, controlling water to levitate oneself; water detection, the ability to find water; water attacks, healing—”
A loud beep blasts from the walls. I jump from the sudden noise.
“One sec,” he says, and walks to the ledge of the fourth floor, which overlooks all the others. “I’ll be right with you,” he calls down to someone. He runs his free hand through his hair as he returns. “Sorry. We’re never this busy. I rarely get any customers after dinner time. The store owner, Mrs. Wayne, is usually here, but this is like the only night she’s ever had off. She’s at some charity function, I think. She loves to help Supers and Capital City.”
“Wait, is that—”
“—her real name?” Damian beams. “Not sure, but it’s awesome. Anyway, do you think your dad will like any of these?”
“Can I buy them all?” I ask. “This’ll make me set for his next fifteen birthdays.”
“I get a commission, so indeed you can,” he says, his voice velvety and full of laughs.
Damian leads me back to the elevator, and I force myself to come up with something to say.Come on, small talk.
“How do you know so much about powers?” I ask.
He brightens, as if there’s nothing he’d rather discuss. “From working here. Again, we’re not normally busy during the week, so I have a lot of free time to read, and we have twenty-thousand different Supers in this store. Some Supers have awful powers,like this one guy, Hot Dog Man, whose power is straight-up turning things into hot dogs. And guess what his weakness is?”
“Ketchup?” I offer.
“Close. Mustard.”
