Chapter 59 Criminal.

Chapter 59: 59 Criminal.

Even as I fell down the sewers my magnetic powers still hovered me a few inches away from the water and having to get a new suit.

Sewer water never came out of supersuits, I don’t know how it worked but two experiences and a hefty bill from Patty had already taught me my lesson.

Back to my feet as the suit shrunk back down to my bracers, I was back in street wear and already scrunching my nose up at the stench.

Before I could react a chime came in to my phone as Lacey had already wired my payment, guess Firefly paid a lot quicker than Razer I’d tell you that.

From below I could still make out the flashes of cameras, the cheers of civvies and the questions of reporters.

I tuned in just as a mic and a camera was shoved in Plastic-boy’s face. "Plastic-boy, the city owes you a great deal of thanks once again as you might just saved the life of the councilman."

"Uhmm..." Plastic-boy started. "As long as there are villains they’ll always be heroes like me to deal with them, Polaris might have escaped today but we will find him, rest assured, the city is safe. Thank you."

And with that Plastic-boy was already stretching himself across rooftops as the press watched in awe.

Still with my phone out, I decided to check in on the current hero rankings and see where he stood.

Damn. Still under fifty. Still B-list.

See when I told you heroes and celebrities were synonymous in this world I wasn’t kidding.

An anonymous forum online had taken it upon themselves to categorize heroes according to new worth, sponsorship, feats, and overall appearance.

The list ran from one to over five thousand. And that’s just for the heroes in this country. See why I’m a national resource.

S-list were global icons, elites who didn’t need sponsorships and let their feats and the BSA government contracts work and pay for their lives.

Number one. Extraordinary.

He was practically a household name at this point. Someone so feared just the threat of him made some Order members to lessen up their evil plans.

S-list were only ten. A-list about eleven to fifty. B-list fifty to about two hundred. C-list two hundred to a thousand. D-list was a thousand to five. While E-list were basically Streeters.

It was an organised system that helped me know exactly who I was facing and how to handle them.

For example, if I was facing someone in the C-list my primary objective was to get them time to showcase their abilities and revel in the lights. And the worst thing a hero could do was make his debut a permanent D-list.

But for someone like Plastic-boy it was tougher. The city had already seen him to completion. He’d been do this for decades at this point.

Any meteoric rise he’d now have would most likely be because of a complete change in wardrobe, persona and maybe even an arch.

But I didn’t do that, so this is where my job came to an end.

Walking down the sewers for minutes before I finally got back to one of McLaren’s secret entrances and sewer smell somehow washed away even though we were still technically down there.

Have no idea how McLaren did it but he did, always assumed it was The Magnificent Magician (yes, the name’s a mouthful), you don’t get far without having a few connections.

"Polaris!" McLaren called me from behind the bar with a half drunk grin. "G— Great work out there! Viva La Evil!"

I gave him a simple smile. Pretty sure McLaren knew what I did was just for show but I don’t think he cared. To assholes it was about winning, to us it was about the artistry.

I moved past drunk buffed up guys and sleazy girls in mini nothings drooling over them, just to get to my usual booth and see three identical Steves.

"Nice work out there." I said to them who seemed to be locked in an argument with themselves for some probably mental illness worthy reason.

The three simultaneously stopped and turned to me, saying in unison. "Thanks, man."

"Nope. Too weird. Two of you have to bounce."

"Fine." One said, assuming the original as the others puffed away into thin air. "Anything for the man making my little sister happy."

Steve’s ability was always weird to me. In hindsight it was just duplication, but each clone had a brain if it wasn’t too, could fight the original if it wanted too and would assume the original if the original died somehow.

It always made me curious whether if the original Steve was the original original.

"I’ll transfer your funds as soon as I get home." I said, continuing to ignore the Psyren comments.

"No." He set down his pint of beer. "That one’s on the house. Use that to get my baby sister some flowers or something..."

"Yeah... No." I raised a brow. "I can handle myself and I’m pretty sure you’re homeless. So tonight. See ya later, man."

I started to walk away, but not before drunk Steve puffed to the room. "That’s the greatest villain in the world over there! No one’s better, and he’s my friend!"

I shook my head and hurried out, not the first time Steve has declared for me, but most people in McLaren’s were either too drunk or too horny to care.

Head down and out one of the McLaren’s secret entrances to the alley where I parked my car—correction, my new car.

Working with Firefly had its own perks I couldn’t lie. Toyota Crown Nightshade. About fifty thousand dollars of worth it.

And before you start to hate on me for still driving a Toyota, remember this job required discretion, but there was never a rule about doing it classy.

I headed to the car, pushing the electric key and watching it light up for a brief orgasmic second before returning to my body.

Just before I could enter I hear a voice with a Victorian era accent that made me what to gouge out my eyes with a key.

"Stop it right there, criminal."