Meteor Attack!: Neutrinoman and Lightningirl: A Love Story, #1

Prologue

Spring 2025, Casita de Soledad, Central Arizona

So? I asked her, my eyes taunting her, daring her. Where should I start?

Her brown eyes wandered before meeting mine, her shoulders shrugging as she said, Well, if you must do this, start at the most important part.

We stood in the living room of our little adobe casita, the high-desert sunset bathing her beautiful face in golden light. After all these years I was a happy man just staring at her.

The origin story? I said. How we became superheroes? That’s it. How it really all began, not the PR-scrubbed version that everyone knows.

She shook her head, her long black hair gliding back and forth across her shoulders. No, no. Those stories are good and heroic, and close enough. Everyone knows them, start at the most important part.

I had the feeling I was being tested. It wasn’t the first time she made me feel that way (not by a long shot), nor the last.

Uhh, I said, my index finger pointing heavenward. The climactic battle when we defeated the Arcturian Alliance, and then go backwards from there. That is—

Not the most important part, she said, cutting me off. She walked over, her hand resting gently on my chest, the yellow and white tendrils of energy arcing back and forth as our bodies did their dance. I felt the electrical tingle I had felt since the first time we had touched. It still thrilled me each and every time.

I nodded my head and smiled, she followed suit. The most important part is… I began, watching her right eyebrow arch. The most important part is… it’s… Suddenly I knew what it was and I knew what kind of story I was going to write. It’s when we met, I said with a smile.

She smiled wide and full, rewarding me with the grace of her pleasure. That’s my man, my Neutrinoman, she said, invoking an old ritual between us.

That’s my girl, my Lightningirl, I replied, sweeping her up into my arms, feeling electricity course through me as I carried her towards the bedroom. She giggled a girlish giggle, and my writing was forgotten for the day.

Before that moment I knew this was a story of superheroes and cataclysmic events, a story of aliens and war, of change and human fallibility. But that one moment with her, with my love, made it clear that this was to be—first and foremost—a love story.

1 The Setup

Fall 2004, Buckeye, Arizona

My name is Nik Nichols and I am Neutrinoman. You know: mild-mannered janitor at the Palo Verde Nuclear Generating Station by day, Neutrinoman by night. Radiating our way to a better tomorrow.

Her name is Licia Lopez and she is Lightningirl. I know. I know. Why is the male superhero a man and the female superhero a girl? I asked her about it once and she said, Yeah, I used to hate it, but now that I am over thirty, I kinda like it, actually.

Where was I… Oh yeah… She is Lightningirl: mild-mannered Arizona Public Service (APS) lineman (line-woman as she calls it) by day, Lightningirl by night. Electrifying our lives.

You’ve heard how it all happened, on that full moon day in 2003 when the world was awash in cosmic rays. When the accident at Palo Verde occurred and I went into the reactor and opened the stuck valve on the emergency cooling system, exposing me to a deadly dose of radiation. And how, as I lay there dying, that golden-hued, neutrino-mutated rat took a big bite out of my leg, and with help from the cosmic rays, mutated my DNA and turned me into: Neutrinoman.

And you’ve heard how on that same fateful day she was repairing high-tension power lines near Flagstaff, trying to restore power to half of Arizona, when she was struck by lightning and thrown onto an open transformer. How, as she lay there dying, the mutated raven pecked on her hand, and with help from the cosmic rays, transformed her DNA and turned her into: Lightningirl.

Well, there are some things that need to be set straight. The origin stories, considering the PR machine they went through, are close enough. But there are some parts of our stories that have never been told, some wrongs that need to be righted, and there are some details you just won’t believe. And now that we are both retired, and out of the game, I can tell you. Finally.

How, before the public knew very much about us, how Lightningirl and Neutrinoman met, and fell in love, and—

But I am getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?

It all began in Buckeye, Arizona, at my parents’ house about one year after the accident. I was still working as a janitor at Palo Verde and not making very much money. I was living at home, and my mom had invited some friends from Flagstaff over for dinner. The Lopez family. I suspected a setup; my mom was always doing that.

A setup, what do you mean a setup? she asked when I casually brought it up. I was setting the dining room table—the good china was out—while she was in the kitchen, with her head in the oven, poking at the roast.

The Lopezes have a daughter, right? And she is about thirty, about my age, right? Mom hmmm-hmmmed from the oven. And she is single, right?

Her head out of the oven, she said, So what is so wrong with that? I can’t invite friends over for dinner that happen to have a single daughter your age?

And how well do you know them?

We sat next to them at the Cardinals game last month.

So not at all, then, I said.

They seemed so nice, no harm in getting to know them.

It’s a setup, Mom, why can’t you just admit that?

She came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron, and placed her left hand on my chest. I just want to see my son happy. All these years since that Ashley girl broke your heart and here you are still single.

My jaw bunched at the mention of Ashley, but I didn’t say anything. I looked at her. She had blond hair this year in waves down to her shoulders. She was plump and matronly in her early fifties with plenty of makeup on. The new hair color still threw me, but her brown eyes were as deep and as kind as ever. The same brown eyes I had, the same brown eyes that had first caught Ashley’s attention. She meant well, she always meant well, it was just complicated.

Mom, I am not in a good position for a relationship right now. Since the accident, I—

I am so tired of hearing about that accident. My boy, he talks to the president, but can’t tell anyone what amazing things he does. All the lives he saves. Well, if Mister President ever comes over for dinner, I’ll have a thing or two to—

The doorbell rang, cutting her off. Al, she yelled to my father, it’s the Lopezes. Can you get that? She turned back to me, fooled with my collar, and said, You look handsome, Nik. She’s a nice girl. I think you’ll like her.

I frowned at her. The last thing I wanted was romantic complications.

Just give it a chance, she said with a smile. For your mother.

I guess, strictly speaking, I didn’t have to live at home. And I’m not sure if that makes it more or less lame. It’s clichéd (a thirty-year-old man living at home) and I know it, but you know what? I have great parents, and I had a great childhood. I don’t have horrible traumas in my past to explain it or deep psychological scars to fall back on. At that point in my life, it made more sense to save what money I could and live with them instead of saving no money and living in a crap apartment.

I know, I know. Thirty and a janitor. Well, believe me, I didn’t plan for it to go that way. I just wasn’t one of those driven people. I never felt the need to change the world, or