Heroes Reborn - Book 1: Brave New World. Event Series (Heroes Reborn: Official TV Tie-In Series) by David Bishop

Author:David Bishop [Bishop, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
ISBN: 9783960020004
Publisher: Bastei Entertainment
Published: 2015-09-24T12:00:00+00:00

EAST L.A., CALIFORNIA

The neighborhood had gotten worse since Carlos last paid a visit, if that was possible. Street after street, all he saw were run-down bodegas and payday loan centers. The few moments of beauty came from elaborate graffiti murals spray-painted on cement block walls and abandoned storefronts. As Carlos strolled beside his nephew, one particular mural caught his eye. Elaborate lettering asked: “Where are the Heroes?” Good question.

Jose had badgered Carlos into walking him home after school. The boy was proud to be associated with his war hero uncle, but that didn’t stop him from giving Carlos the third degree. “How come you don’t ever stay with us?”

“They cover my hotels when I do these speaking tours, so —”

“But my Dad wouldn’t mind if you did,” Jose persisted.

“I don’t know. Think he’s still pretty sore at me.”

“Maybe he’s over it — now that you’re a hero.”

They were within sight of an auto repair shop. A careworn sign hanging over the entrance proclaimed the premises as those of Gutierrez and Sons. Past the sign, Carlos could see the neon emblem of a dive bar. That felt more like home these days. He slipped into Spanish as they ambled closer to the garage. “Yeah, well, sometimes heroes aren’t as heroic as you think they are.”

Jose wouldn’t hear of it. “But you are! You’re like El Vengador!”

Carlos had a blurry memory of seeing a guy in a luchador’s mask on the news — Vigilante Troubles City, something like that. “He’s one of those Evos, right?”

“They’re not all bad. El Vengador’s the only one taking care of this neighborhood — the only one the gangbangers are scared of.”

Carlos saw his brother emerge from the garage, wiping oily hands on a rag, grease stains covering much of the mechanic’s overalls. Oscar was only a few years older, but he resembled Pop more and more every day — rugged, diligent, steady. Carlos had gotten their mom’s good looks and her tendency to flee commitment.

Oscar pointed a finger at his son. “I’ve heard enough about El Vengador — I’ve seen enough, too.” He gestured at the garage wall, where someone had painted a crude version of a luchador’s mask. “That yours, Jose?”

“Yes, but people need to know he’s not in hiding like the rest of them —”

“No,” Oscar snapped. “People need to come to a garage without graffiti on the wall.” He nodded to a bucket of paint and roller brush under the tag. “Now clean it up.”

Carlos almost laughed at the sight of his nephew trudging toward the paint, sulky reluctance obvious in every step. He recognized so much of himself from way back when in Jose. “So, the kid’s got a hero, someone to look up to — what’s the problem?”

“El Vengador isn’t everyone’s hero. The tag is bad for business. Besides —” Carlos felt the full force of his brother’s glare “— why does Jose need some caped crusader to idolize when he’s got Tio Carlos, Uncle Carlos the war hero?” Oscar stalked back into the garage, where a mini-van was waiting with its hood up.

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