Free Corpies (Super Powereds Spinoff Book 1) by Drew Hayes

occurred to him that others would see his failings all on their own.
    “Ignore Zone; he’s got a short fuse and an ego bigger than he needs,” Galvanize said. “He’ll calm down once I explain that you skipping the photos wasn’t a personal slight.”
    “It’s fine,” Owen said at last. He looked over; it hadn’t escaped his notice that while Galvanize was keeping the peace, Hexcellent and Bubble Bubble had both remained silent after Zone’s rant. One look at their faces told him why: they agreed with their teammate. Maybe not about him being worse than other Heroes, but certainly about him thinking he was too good for them.
    And they weren’t really wrong, were they? He had been thinking that way, ever since Lenny handed him their folder.
    “I promise, we’ll get things smoothed out-”
    “Just show me where to get one of those report things,” Owen said, and Galvanize went quiet. “Please. I want to get it done with.” As much as he would have liked to sink into a funk over his lifetime of failings, Owen needed to knock the paperwork out as soon as possible.
    Little as he felt like going, he still had to meet with Gale. 
     
     

13.
     
    There were all sorts of Hero-themed bars and restaurants: Supper with Supers, Capes & Cocktails, and Planet Hero were only some of the more nationally franchised ones. For the most part they were horrendously tacky affairs, with staff wearing costumes and walls decorated in art featuring Heroes or sometimes vintage Hero memorabilia.
    In larger cities, Heroes would frequent these establishments in costume, stopping in to have a quick beer or bite then sign autographs for the adoring fans. Such appearances were, of course, purchased by the respective establishment and carefully scheduled. They wanted patrons to think that any trip could lead to meeting a real-life Hero in the flesh.
    Off-duty Heroes, or ones not contractually obligated to show up, avoided those places like they’d seen the kitchen. A real Hero bar was one that catered to them when the capes were off. This type of bar masqueraded as unassuming watering holes, a place akin to a dive without the rustic charm. There was, of course, no way to turn away non-Heroes without advertising what clientele they actually catered to. Instead, the staff made sure regular people didn’t want to stay. Horrid service, flat beer at room temperature, and food that would turn a garbage disposal’s stomach ensured that if you weren’t supposed to be at a Hero bar, it wasn’t a place you felt inclined to linger.
    Owen felt the assessing stares as he stepped through the door of Brin’s Gate, a small bar twenty minutes’ jog from base. He was dressed in street clothes, as was everyone else here. Stepping into a place like this wearing a costume would have defeated the whole point. The staff, sizing him up from afar, could clearly see he was big. But “big” might only mean he was a Super, not a Hero, and even that required some assumptions. He’d probably be stuck getting treated like a mundane until Gale arrived and vouched for him.
    “Hey, over here!” A breeze hit his left ear and Owen turned to find Gale standing up at a booth and waving him over. He noticed the staff relax, accepting him as a proper client. It usually took more than a wave to do that. Either this place had lax standards or Gale had more clout than Owen realized.
    He lumbered across the room and slid onto the bench that awaited him. Instead of the usual groans and creaks he was accustomed to from furniture, the seat held firm. That was one thing about Hero bars: they either started out with reinforced furniture or very quickly learned to get some.
    Gale was dressed in slacks and a blouse, the sort of outfit that said she might have just gotten off work or might be heading out for a proper dinner after her drink. In front of her was a cocktail, halfway watered down by the melted ice.
    “Been waiting long?”
    “I had another meeting here earlier, so