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    Not Quite Bulletproof: Power City Tales, #2
    Not Quite Bulletproof: Power City Tales, #2
    Not Quite Bulletproof: Power City Tales, #2
    Ebook81 pages1 hour

    Not Quite Bulletproof: Power City Tales, #2

    By Stefon Mears

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    About this ebook

    Power City: superhero capital of the West Coast. Where capes battle in the skies above the trees and rivers of the Pacific Northwest.

    Jason Collier. A good man on the brink of starvation. Desperate. He hides in an alley. Heart pounding. Ready to rob to survive.

    But tonight Jason faces a more difficult choice than he knows...

    Not Quite Bulletproof, an exciting superhero novella that explores what it means to be a hero. By Stefon Mears, author of No Money in Heroism, and other Power City Tales.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherThousand Faces Publishing
    Release dateDec 10, 2017
    ISBN9781386217121
    Not Quite Bulletproof: Power City Tales, #2

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      Book preview

      Not Quite Bulletproof - Stefon Mears

      Not Quite Bulletproof

      Not Quite Bulletproof

      Stefon Mears

      Thousand Faces Publishing

      Contents

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      About the Author

      Also by Stefon Mears

      The trick to hiding in an alley is to not hide.

      Sounds stupid, doesn’t it? It’s true though.

      Only two types of people walk through alleys: the ones who expect trouble, and the ones who don’t. The latter, there’s no need to hide from. They don’t notice anything until it’s too late. And the former, there’s no point in hiding from them. They watch every shadow and ambush spot anyway.

      So the trick to hiding in an alley is to not draw attention. Gives the ones who expect trouble an excuse to keep moving. The ones who don’t expect trouble won’t see any reason to keep their distance. Makes them easier targets.

      The best way to not draw attention? Look busy. Occupied. Preferably with an expression that says you’d rather be anywhere else. Not exactly ninja invisibility, but it avoids unwanted interest.

      Learned all that back on the public basketball courts in Angeltown. Back when I was a teen, and listened to the local bad guys talk shop between games.

      Never thought I’d be putting their lessons to use.

      But there I was. In an alley. Hiding in plain sight.

      Waiting to commit my first robbery.

      The alley was clean compared to what I knew growing up, but this was Power City, here in the great Pacific Northwest, not Angeltown down in southern Cal.

      The alleys I knew growing up smelled like urine and feces and rancid food. The alley I was in tonight smelled like stale popcorn, and some kind of syrup scent coming from the Dumpster. It wasn’t maple, and to be honest, not being able to pick out the type of syrup was driving me a little nuts. Worried at the back of my mind, when I already had more than enough to worry about.

      Made my stomach rumble too.

      Or maybe that was nerves, I don’t know.

      A cool spring evening. Could have almost been romantic there on the Mediterranean tiles in the alley behind the Cinema Fantastique, under the light of the full moon. High, pale green stucco wall of the movie theater behind me, and red brick facing me from the dry cleaner next door. Me, dressed in jeans and a Power City Lightning tee shirt, thirty-eight special tucked away at the base of my spine. I smoked a citrus stick as my excuse to be back here, filling my mouth with the taste of oranges and my lungs with supposedly harmless chemicals that were designed to reduce the desire for nicotine.

      Any romance to the image was ruined by the flood lights. Cinema Fantastique installed them a couple of months ago, after somebody tripped in a pool of soda last year and sued the movie theater.

      Sued a movie theater. What was the world coming to?

      Said the man about to commit a robbery.

      Anyway, most romantic images don’t include a big green Dumpster, or a stack of milk crates, which were my only companions in the alley at the moment. I stood in one of three doorways leading out of the theater, under a small green awning, as though I wanted to shield myself because it might start raining any moment.

      Which, to be fair, it might have. No rain in the forecast, but that was never known to stop the skies above Power City. Especially not when Cyclone was in town. But last I heard, he was off fighting gun runners on the coast or something.

      With any luck, I looked like just another smoker who stepped out of the theater for a puff. A little break in the middle of the double-feature: The Mark of Zorro and The Man in the Iron Mask.

      Cinema Fantastique was all about the classics.

      I chose the spot carefully. Maybe forty feet in from the mouth of the alley, but no one could leave the alley without passing me. The other end was blocked by more of the movie theater. I stood by the double-feature exit. The other two doors led out from showings of Twins of Evil and North by Northwest.

      From the scouting I’d done over the last couple of days, this alley was perfect. Most patrons left the movie theater by the front doors. But, in small, occasional groups, some left by the back alley exits.

      Manageable amounts of people, for a guy with a gun.

      That was the plan anyway.

      So far, I’d been here about two hours and not seen more than a half-dozen people total. And all the ones I’d seen had been of the expecting-trouble variety. Guys my age – in their mid-twenties – who thought that anyone hanging around in an alley ought to be considered a potential threat.

      They all gave me the side-eye as they passed. And I pretended that the only thing that mattered in this universe was between my lips, filling my mouth and lungs with a citrus-based alternative to real smoking.

      Two hours I’d spent this way. Not to mention the fifteen butts I’d tossed into the Dumpster so they wouldn’t litter the tiles around me, making it clear I’d been out for more than one cigarette.

      My nerves were getting jumpy, and my rumbling stomach was starting to twist itself into knots. I’d started second-guessing myself. Wondering if I should have found a spot over by the soccer stadium or something. Wondering what I could…

      The last door opened. Twins of Evil must have let out.

      Bingo.

      Couple in their thirties. Good looking, blond type. Him with the hundred-dollar haircut, despite his jeans and Lightning tee shirt (everyone was wearing those since they made the playoffs last year). Her with the salon curls and the designer lime green sundress. Together they looked like some kind of ad for

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