When Prince Charming woke up, he could feel the sharp corner of a popcorn kernel dug into his cheek. He sat up but the kernel stayed. 

He reached groggily for his laptop, which was on the coffee table.

It didn’t move.

He scrabbled for purchase and wrenched his eyes open. Someone had duct taped his laptop to the coffee table. Lactose? Or… his nemesis?

Charming slid a finger into the space between the duct tape and the table. He didn’t know who his nemesis was, but he was sure that they existed. He’d been two cents short to ride the subway the other day. A week before that, the barista had put full fat milk into his latte instead of skim. Someone was watching him. Someone wished him harm.

He pulled the duct tape off the laptop, but now the entire lid was slightly sticky. 

“A true hero suffers in silence,” he announced to the empty living room. No one applauded, except in his head.

His laptop had 12% battery. He wished he hadn’t left his charger at his parents’ house. If he had known his mom was serious, he would have actually packed. Instead, he’d snatched his laptop up from the shards of glass on the floor and stormed out, sure she would call him within the hour.

That had been three days ago. Charming sighed again.

His email loaded, and he opened it to find a reply from mb1223@aol.com. 

You can stop by today. 10:30. Email when you’re downstairs.

A midtown address with an apartment on the 45th floor. He stretched in delight. It was 9:30 now. He yawned and looked down at his clothes. Rumpled. A little smelly.

“A true hero suffers in silence,” he announced to the empty living room. No one applauded, except in his head. He tilted his chin up, posing with the quiet dignity of an underwear model. The row of metal folding chairs against the exposed brick wall across from him stared back impassively. 

“A true hero doesn’t throw a USPS delivery van at the Chrysler building,” someone said behind him. 

He spun to see Lac and Screech standing in the doorway, both with their arms folded. 

“I threw the van at the villain in front of the Chrysler building,” Charming said. No one had found this argument compelling. Not his defense lawyer. Not the judge who ordered the cease and desist on superheroic actions. Not his mother. 

“For the last time, Charming, there are a lot of women with brown hair in this city and statistically most of them are not Professor Boom.” Screech, in addition to a yell that could shatter eardrums, had a bachelor’s degree in mathematics from CUNY. 

“Well, statistically one of them is Professor Boom,” Charming retorted, stepping around the couch with his laptop in his arms.

Professor Boom, whose right ring finger could sometimes send up sparks and who had an abiding love of dynamite, was the self-appointed head of VARE. Charming, as the highly-contested self-appointed head of SICH, felt that Professor Boom was a natural nemesis. Until he found his real one at least. 

“Lac says you’re finding an apartment today,” Screech said. She cocked her hip. Glanced at Lac. 

Lac shrugged, shifted from foot to foot, and then winced. A moment later, Screech gagged. 

“Yes, I am,” Charming said. “He actually replied this morning.” He flipped his laptop back open and scanned his emails again, to make sure.

Four messages this morning. One from his defense lawyer titled Terms of Disengagement, two from Rainforest Action Network asking for money, and one from mb1223. 

“I have a half hour if you guys want to do breakfast,” he suggested, looking at Screech and Lac. 

Screech stared at him. 

Lac sighed. “Yeah, okay. We have cereal.” 

Screech turned on her heel and went down the long hallway toward the kitchen. Lac and Charming followed her. 

In the kitchen, a pile of dirty bowls sat on the thin strip of counter next to the sink. A dishcloth that has once been blue hung from the wobbly knob of a scratched wooden cabinet. 

The kitchen’s dominant feature was a long row of aluminum card tables pressed end to end. An assortment of misshapen chairs crowded the table: fourteen, one for each superhero in SICH. 

When a few moments had passed and no one offered him any utensils, Charming put his laptop on the table and crossed the room to the cabinets. “I know one of you duct taped my laptop to the table,” he said.

Neither of them said anything.

“I wish you hadn’t. It’s all sticky.”

Still no response. He grabbed one of the boxes of Lucky Charms from the cabinet and poured a heaping mountain into a cleanish bowl. “Is there milk?”

“You know there’s no milk,” Lac snapped. “You finished it yesterday and then put the empty carton back in the fridge.”

Charming looked up at them both. “I might just go,” he said, “but thanks anyway.” He dumped the bowl of cereal into the trash can.

And feeling very disheartened, he picked up his laptop and left the brownstone.