Chapter Fifty-Two - The Interview

Michel was fairly new to being a reporter. Personally, he preferred the term journalist, but... well, he could admit that where he currently worked wasn’t exactly the kind of place that did journalism.

The Cowl was a classic gossip rag, with all of the reputation that entailed. It was a weekly magazine which mostly repeated what others had said before it and didn’t bother with fact-checking.

It wasn’t the most glamorous job, but he had only graduated two years ago with an English degree (which was proving rather useless) and this job was the closest he could get to his dream job.

To be fair, he’d grown up on comics about mild-mannered reporters who had secret identities as superheroic masks, and while he couldn’t do the heroic part, he could almost do the reporter part. Or that had been the plan.

Until today, it hadn’t worked out so well. He’d been stuck in the offices, editing articles and learning the ropes for the past six months.

Today was his big opportunity to make a name for himself, one that he only got because one of the more senior reporters had a stomach flu and no one else felt like travelling all the way to Eauclaire.

It was, in his less-than-humble-opinion, about time he caught a lucky break.

The Cowl had a few popular segments. There was the copy-pasted gossip section which kept some people coming, but most of the eye-catching articles were direct interviews with b-lister heroes (they were too small-fry to ever catch a big fish) and their monthly Under the Cowl segment, which was really just an excuse to show off images of certain heroic figures in bathing suits and spandex outfits so tight they were basically painted on. That part of the magazine was very popular with a certain--disgusting--segment of the population.

What he was aiming for today was more on the interview side of things.

Nabbing a heroes’ first interview was a big deal in the rather small world of reporters and journalists, exactly what he needed to get his name out there.

But first, he had to get the boring questions out of the way.

His leg bounced under the table with nervous energy and he fiddled with the cup of ice water the waitress had brought him earlier. He hadn’t touched the complimentary garlic sticks yet. The last thing he needed was to have breadcrumbs down the front of his suit.

He’d picked this restaurant to give off the impression that this was more than just an interview for the seventh (out of nine) best-selling tabloid in the region.

Someone sat across from him and he just jumped. It was a young woman, one he recognized easily enough. The Boss was dressed in a pressed pinstripe suit and a small fedora. She had the standard domino mask across her upper face which did nothing to hide her eyes which locked onto him.

“Hello,” she said. “I’m The Boss. You’re here for the interview?”

Michel swallowed, then smiled and tried to remember how to be personable. “Yes, that’s me. I’m Michel from the Cowl. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He extended a hand across the table.

The Boss stared at his hand for a few long seconds, then looked back up to him. “Would you mind if we don’t?” she asked.

She didn’t want to do the interview? His heart sank, and he pulled his arm back. “Oh? We’re willing to pay, of course, and if you want to order a meal, feel free. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Thank you,” she said. Then, after a too long pause, she continued. “That’s acceptable.”

Now he was even more confused. He was about to laugh it off, maybe make some joke, but the woman across from him was staring, her expression entirely flat, and he decided that maybe his charisma wasn’t as great as he thought it was.

Also, he was kind of hoping she wouldn’t order anything to eat. He was footing that particular bill himself and this place was a little rich for his blood. As it was, he was planning on grabbing a few appetisers and nothing else.

“So, ah, well, usually with this kind of interview... actually, how much experience do you have with interviews? Not that I mean to pry into your unmasked life,” Michel said.

“Not very much,” the Boss replied.

Michel smiled and nodded and tried to ignore the bead of sweat slipping its way down his back. He knew he’d be interviewing all sorts of people--ideally--but he didn’t expect a young woman to be so damned intimidating.

“Then that’s fine,” he said after recentering himself with a sip from his water. He knew what was coming next was going to be a whole lot of made up stuff. “Usually, what we want from an interview is just a glimpse into the life. Tell us about your goals, maybe recount a nice moment of triumph. The more you give me, the more we can work on it. Your opinions matter.”

One of her eyebrows perked up. “Do they?”

“Um. Yes? I mean, yes. Definitely. The people out there want to know about heroes, and new heroes are interesting and, well, new. So, let me softball a few questions your way, just to get a taste of things. Ah, I’ll be recording this, since I can’t rely on my memory, is that fine?”

“Yes, go ahead,” she said.

He nodded and pulled out his phone. He had an app for recording interviews, of course, and he turned that on and pressed record, then--thanks to a tip he’d gotten from another journalist before--he introduced himself, then stopped the recording and listened to it. That worked to check that the phone’s microphone was working and the software worked too.

“Alright then. My name is Michel, and today I’m interviewing the new heroine called the Boss for the Cowl. Is that your hero name?”

“The Boss? Ah, yes, I suppose it is now.”

Names were a nice safe topic. “Can you tell us how you came upon that name? Is there a story behind it?”

“Oh, well, Ursa Minor named me, actually. She called me the boss when I took charge, I guess. And the name just sort of stuck.”

“Ursa Minor is your companion who can turn into a bear, correct?” he asked. This was big. If he could get her to spill the beans on the others, well, maybe he could get more interviews, make a whole segment about it.

The Boss nodded. “That’s her, yes. But I’d rather not divulge too much about my sis-- about my companions.”

“Of course, don’t worry,” he said. Siblings! Siblings with powers! That was uncommon, weird, and interesting all at once. He couldn’t write it outright, but he could imply the heck out of it later. “So, the Boss, the leader of your team, right?”

She nodded, then he gestured to the phone and she spoke aloud. “Yes, I am.”

“How did that happen?” he asked.

“The other members are all preteens.”

Michel smiled. “Ah, right. So, um, I guess that means asking about the dating scene in your group is right out?” he chuckled.

The chuckles died out as she just continued to stare at him. Her brows furrowed though, and he had the impression she was very much not amused.

“Sorry. Anyway, uh. So, what are your goals as a heroine? You’ve only been out for a couple of weeks and you already have quite the reputation!” At least, she did locally. A couple of little fights didn’t make national news. “What are your goals in the short and long term?”

The Boss smiled. “Take over the city.”

Michel swallowed, then the girl chuckled, darkly.

“That was a joke,” she said, her smile disappearing instantly. “We plan on helping make Eauclaire a safer place to live. We are also working with a few local businesses to earn a little bit of money. The others need college tuitions and it turns out that being... heroes, is expensive.”

“What kind of business?”

“Mostly advertising for now. We’re trying to grow our team out more too, so we might eventually be able to explore other avenues of profit. Fighting is nice, but it doesn’t pay well. Eauclaire is already a fairly safe city. There aren’t any real villains here.”

“Well, there’s that Fabien the Fabulous man,” he said. “And I heard a rumour about a luck manipulator too.”

She stared at him. “We’ll take care of them,” she said.

Michel swallowed. That didn’t sound very heroic. On paper it might not look so bad, but something about her tone, the finality of it, just set alarm bells ringing in his head. “Yeah, okay. So, what do you do for fun, as a group, I mean?”

“We... mostly just do work, really. The others all have their own hobbies. Ursa Minor loves watching nature documentaries and hibernating, and Owlwatch likes reading. Bandit... likes cooking. Toast. We all like... eating.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s nice,” he said.

Michel had no idea how he was going to turn this into an interesting article. ‘Girls like eating’ wasn’t exactly a Ulitzer headline.

***