Pencil

Ready 11-04 (Summus Proelium)

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Laying on the floor of Bobby’s cabin, still paralyzed by whatever that thing was that Pencil hit me with, all I could do was watch helplessly as the man looked at That-A-Way, standing over me, and Pack at the door with Mars Bar towering behind her. Holiday the panther-lizard was there too, somewhat between all of us with the paralyzing gun held in her teeth as she snarled angrily. 

No, no, no. What was going to happen now? Why were they here? How did they find us? I knew I should have been grateful to see them, and a big part of me was. Okay, most of me was. But another part was terrified that something bad would happen to the two of them. Paralyzed as I was, I was helpless to do anything to help, which was beyond terrifying. And it wasn’t like Pencil was just some bad guy. He was one of the nastiest Fell-Touched I’d ever heard of. He was immune to basically anything anyone could do. What the hell was going to happen here? How would they actually stop him, considering that entire experienced hero teams had set out to do that and failed, some dying in the attempt?   

That was what scared me the most. It wasn’t suffering and dying right here with Pencil enacting his revenge for hurting his sister. It was being forced to see him do that exact same thing to Pack and That-A-Way. Because they were only here to help me. If they died, it would be because of me. Because I couldn’t handle my own problems. Because I was weak. 

For his part, Pencil didn’t exactly look all that concerned. His gaze took in the panther-lizard  who had stolen his weapon, before moving to look at the others. I could practically see the thoughtful expression on the face behind the mask. When he spoke, his voice was curious. “Now, what exactly could have made the three of you such close friends that you’d come all the way out here like this?” He raised a fist to his chin, contemplating. “Oh, was it really that bit at the hospital? Was it? I’m really gonna blush if it turns out I’ve inspired the brand new besties bond you’ve all got.” After a second, the man added in a conspiratorial tone, “Really, don’t tell me you two see your pal here as a little brother. Because trust me, we all know where that goes. Him in love with both of you and you not seeing him that way because you’re just such good friends. And no one wants to live through that kind of cliche. It’s 2020, let’s try to move past triangles, people.” 

As Pencil said those words, the rage that had been clear in his voice when he had come after me a moment earlier for hurting Cup had been replaced by what sounded like genuine amusement at this new situation. It was like being hit with something this unexpected, instead of pissing him off, actually intrigued him. Apparently he just enjoyed being surprised that much. So much that he forgot about that whole being pissed at me for Cup thing. In any case, whatever was going through his mind right then, I was pretty sure that none of us wanted to know about it. 

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” Pack informed him. Her words were punctuated by matching growls from Mars Bar and Holiday. “I’m going to step out of the way to that side of the door. My big buddy here is gonna step the other way.  Then you are going to walk out of this building and get the hell out of here before this gets any worse. Everyone walks away to fight another day.” 

“Or,” That-A-Way put in, “you can push it and see if being immune to damage helps you very much when it comes to a giant grizzly-lizard sitting on your psychotic fucking ass until the authorities get here. After all,” she added, shifting her weight a little, “We don’t actually have to hurt you. We just have to stop you from leaving. I’m pretty sure you don’t have super-strength.”  

For a moment, the monster in the mask said nothing. He simply glanced back and forth at all of us, adopting a thoughtful posture before eventually speaking up. “That is a very fine point you raise, young lady. A very fine point indeed. You’re probably right, I’d be… hard-pressed to budge your personal Yogi over there, if push came to shove.” He gave a tip of an imaginary hat toward Mars Bar. “And yet, I find myself with one very important question. While your bear is sitting on in this hypothetical scenario, what… precisely would your invisible gorilla-lizard be doing?” Even as he said that, the man was abruptly pivoting on one foot with a snapped, “Let’s ask him.” 

With those words, Pencil’s hand snapped out. A knife leapt from his sleeve before being driven into what looked like thin air. Thin air that drew a thick line of blood and a squeal of pain. 

“Twinkletoes!” Blurting that name, Pack threw herself that way while the formerly invisible figure appeared, a deep gash through his side as he collapsed to the floor, moaning. How had Pencil known he was there? Was it just a guess? How had he known exactly where to aim the knife? 

As Pack lunged to the fallen Twinkletoes’ side, Mars Bar and Holiday leapt to the defense of their partner. With a cabin-shaking roar, the bear went after Pencil like a runaway freight train, while Holiday tossed the gun aside and added her own roar while lunging from the other side.  

Far from being intimidated however, Pencil simply pivoted once more. His foot lashed out in what looked like an awkward, gangly kick. Seriously, I thought he was about to fall over. It was like a clown kicking someone, all wild flailing and no coordination. But despite that, there must have been decent force and skill hidden behind the deceptive appearance, because Holiday was immediately sent crashing to the floor with a yelp from the impact against her nose. 

At the same time, his hand, with the already-bloodied knife held tightly, lashed out and backward. It cut through part of Mars Bar’s descending arm and drew even more blood than the first swipe had drawn from Twinkletoes. Wherever he had hit the lizard-bear must have been important, because the roar turned to a pained squeal and that massive arm fell uselessly against the power-mutated animal’s side, as if the limb was as paralyzed as I actually was. 

The bear’s arm being out of the way gave Pencil room to duck and twist, throwing himself behind the suddenly-stumbling creature. His every motion looked goofy and awkward. It looked like he should fall flat on his face any moment. But I was already certain all of it was an act. He was like a clown or something, his motions purposefully intended to look goofy and uncoordinated while actually being very precise. He clearly had an incredible amount of athletic and combat skill. He was just hiding it behind what looked like bumbling actions. 

Just as that thought came to me, That-A-Way sprang to the aid of the others. Or, she tried to. Suddenly teleporting almost directly behind him and to one side, she produced her stun baton and swung it. Pencil, however, was not taken by surprise. He doubled over backward, almost like he was going through an extreme limbo contest. Laughter, mocking and derisive, erupted from the man as the baton passed just over his head. At the same time, he pressed some kind of hidden button on the knife. Instantly, a cloud of dark red gas shot from a hole at the edge of the knife hilt, right next to the blade itself. The gas went straight into That-A-Way’s face, and she stumbled, squealing and coughing while the baton fell from her grip. Pencil, still bent over backward, caught the falling baton in his free hand, hurling it with what looked like contemptuous ease toward Pack, who was just looking up from Twinkletoes. She took the baton to her chest, yelping and collapsing on top of her gorilla-lizard from the burst of electricity. 

No, no, no! This was exactly what I’d been terrified of. Everything was going wrong. Pack was twitching and yelping on top of the already-injured Twinkletoes. Mars Bar was stumbling, one arm useless. Holiday was still picking herself off the floor. That-A-Way was down, coughing and sputtering while flailing blindly from whatever that gas had done. Everything was going wrong and it was all my fault. They were here because of me, here to help me, and I was too paralyzed to actually do anything to help them. Move, I ordered myself. Move right fucking now!

It didn’t help. Straining as hard as I could, I still couldn’t push past the effect of that stupid weapon. They were going to die, they were going to die and it would be my fault. Damn it, damn it! 

Then, just as my panic and terror hit the breaking point, something totally unexpected happened. The sudden blaring of a car horn from outside filled the air, stopping Pencil in mid-step. At the same time, bright headlights abruptly flared to life, shining in through the window.  

As the sound of the horn was fading, a familiar figure in a black-blue bodysuit with an attached short-sleeved white robe and hood appeared in the doorway. Skip. She stood there, regarding the whole situation seemingly impassively for a moment before addressing Pencil flatly. “By all reports, you are protective of the one called Cup. If so, there is a situation outside that you will be interested in resolving. Unless those reports are wrong, in which case…” Trailing off, she looked to us, then to Pencil before simply turning her back to him to walk out of the doorway and away from the cabin. 

In that moment, I was pretty sure Pencil completely forgot the rest of us even existed. He went through the door an instant after Skip disappeared, fairly sprinting that way. Because Skip was right. For all his murderous psychotic evil bullshit, he actually genuinely cared about Cup. His sister… his lover… whatever she was, he cared about her. I knew that first-hand. 

I also knew that if he had the chance, he would skin every single one of us alive and watch us spend hours screaming for even insinuating that she could be in danger. This could blow up in all of our faces really easily. 

Pack was back on her feet, hand already outstretched to grab That-A-Way and pull her up. She had Twinkletoes and Mars Bar (newly returned to their normal, uninjured lizard forms) on either shoulder, while Holiday stood guard at the door. Both of the girls were looking at me with obvious worry written through their body language. 

And then, then my constant attempts to start moving finally paid off. My fingers twitched, and a sharp gasp of air escaped me as I jerked upright with a suddenly violent cough. The paralyzing effect was gone. I could move again. 

Just in time for That-A-Way to kick me none-too-gently in the leg with a muttered, “Idiot.” Then she turned to run for the broken doorway. 

Pack, meanwhile, grabbed my hand to haul me up. “What she said. But I’ll wait and kick you after we get out of this.” 

Quickly, I joined them and the three of us ran out to the porch in time to see Pencil standing about thirty feet away. The man was brightly illuminated by the headlights of a car. Standing next to the car was a figure in dark purple body armor with speakers along the sides and a helmet with a wide V-shaped visor that had multi-colored lines flickering across it. 

Broadway. It was Broadway, another one of Pack and Eits’ teammates.

Just as we made it to the porch, the headlights turned off and the light inside the car flipped on. That revealed Skip, sitting in the driver’s seat. More important was the figure sitting next to her in the passenger seat, bound and gagged. Cup. 

As soon as he saw her, Pencil took a step that way. But he stopped at a sudden blaring of the car horn when Skip used her free hand to hit it while simultaneously extending a hand through the open window with some kind of large container. She gave it a toss, and it came tumbling across the dirt to land near Pencil. Immediately, I recognized both the look and the smell. Gasoline. It was a mostly-empty gasoline can. 

Broadway gave a kick then, sending another can tumbling over to join the first. “Heya, Fuckface. You see Cup there? The eeeentire inside of that car is totally drenched in that gasoline. You give her any reason to, any reason at all, and Skip is gonna use that lighter she’s got to flame on. Then she’ll drive away. Cuz, you know, the fire won’t affect her. But it’ll sure as hell affect Cup. So she’ll light her on fire and then she’ll drive away. We’ll see how far she gets down the road before the car explodes. Are you a fast runner? Maybe you can get to her before she suffers too much. Maybe you could even do something about the flames. But here’s the thing. Even if you do save her, your lady friend there still gets to suffer horrifically first. Maybe she dies, maybe she doesn’t. But she definitely suffers. And the longer it takes you to get to her, the longer she suffers, the more likely she dies.” 

She bent, picking up the end of a rope that was lying there before tossing it over to the man. “So here’s what’s gonna happen. The other end of that rope is tied to the back of the car. Skip’s gonna pull out and start driving slowly down the road. You’re gonna hold the rope and follow until you’re all past the gate. Then she’ll teleport back up here and you can get the lady out of the car. You try to come after any of us first, Cup goes fwoom. You try to get closer to the car than the length of that rope, Cup goes fwoom. You pull anything, Cup goes fwoom. And maybe you can take all of us down. You are magically immune to everything, after all. Maybe we can’t take you. But what you’ve gotta ask yourself is, just how much would Cup suffer in the meantime? Would she even survive? What kinda shape would she be in? Take the rope, follow the car all the way down to the gate. Or push things right now and see how the girl there likes being a superhero for once. Specifically, the Human Torch.”

For a moment, Pencil didn’t say anything or move. He seemed to be studying Broadway as though gauging how serious she was, how likely it was that she and Skip would actually follow through on that threat. I was staring at them too. Jesus Christ, that was hardcore. Not that it was exactly surprising, given the kind of people Pencil and Cup were. If you were going to threaten them, you had to go for the gold. And I was pretty sure the threat being specifically against Cup was the only thing that made the man take it at all seriously. He cared about her. She might be the only thing in the world he did care about. But still. I had to ask myself if they’d really do it. Which, I supposed, was the exact same thing Pencil was asking himself at that point. 

Finally, he turned to look straight at me. His hand rose, giving what looked like a casual wave. But I knew there was far more behind it. He would never let this go, not for any of us. I’d directly pissed him off more than once now. I’d hurt his sister. And now the others had threatened her life, had threatened to kill her in a gruesome, horrific way. All of us had made this personal to him, and he was not going to forget or forgive that. This might be put on pause now, but it wasn’t over. 

“So long, kid,” Pencil announced while the eyes behind that mask practically bore a hole straight through me. “I’ll catch you later.” And boy did those words have a hell of a lot more meaning behind them than that phrase normally did. 

With that, the man stooped, grabbing the rope. Immediately, the car started up and Skip pulled it around slowly to point it back toward the road before heading out just high enough speed that Pencil had to lightly jog to keep up. While we all watched in silence, the car and attached psychopath both gradually vanished down the road out of sight. 

Finally, once the car and Pencil were gone, Broadway exhaled audibly and slumped over. “Hoooly shit, dude. Tell you one thing, I am super-fucking glad that didn’t go wrong. I mean, yeah, it still could. But I think we might actually pull this off. Thanks for playing distraction in there while we set things up.” She turned to me then, waving. “Hey there, nice to finally meet you, Paintball.” 

“I–” I started to say something, before blanching. Pivoting away from them, I sprinted several feet before collapsing to my knees by some bushes. My hand pried up the mask enough to let me throw up. It all came out in a rush, while Broadway made disconcerted sounds in the background. To their credit, the others all stayed away while my mask was up. All they saw was my back. 

Finally, it was done. My whole body was sore and I was still a bit woozy. Plus my throat hurt from hurling. But there was nothing left for me in my stomach. Awkwardly, I tugged the mask down with one hand, making sure the hidden mic was still in place before pushing myself up and turning. 

That-A-Way and Pack were standing there, arms folded as they looked at me. Broadway was on the other side of the clearing, watching the road. 

“Are you okay?” That-A-Way asked a bit pensively. “Seriously, are you…” 

“I’m okay,” I managed, biting my lip. “I mean, I… they didn’t do anything that bad. He was saving it for later.” 

“Good,” Pack put in, sounding relieved, like a sudden weight had lifted from her shoulders. Then she added, “I’d say a lot more, but it’s time to get out of here. We’re supposed to meet Skip on a little service road down the other side of the forest, that way.” She pointed off behind the cabin. “There’s another car parked there waiting for us.” 

“It’s a bit of a hike,” That-A-Way noted. “But it shouldn’t be hard. 

“And on the way, you can explain just what the hell is going on.” 

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Ready 11-03 (Summus Proelium)

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I was in trouble. Yeah, that was a fucking understatement. I was on the far side of a fence, not even out of earshot from a pissed-off Pencil and two of his psychotic Prev minions. At my feet was a dazed, barely conscious Cup, and all around me was a nearly pitch-black forest. To top it all off, my hands were cuffed behind my back, making this whole thing even more complicated than it already was. And if Pencil caught me again, I was pretty sure him just straight up killing me was the best I could hope for. More likely, he’d make me scream for a few hours first. 

That wasn’t just speculation either. It was, in general, the gist of the threats I could hear coming from the fence area in between Pencil ordering his man to finish disabling the electricity and alarm. That was why he didn’t just ignore the shock himself, given that it wouldn’t actually hurt him, I realized. He didn’t want to set off the alarm, because… because he didn’t want to alert Robert that we were here? Was he really actually afraid of what Rob–never mind. Seconds. I had seconds before those three would be right on top of me. 

Using one finger, I turned slightly to shoot a bit of black paint at Cup, just in case. The last thing I needed right then was her managing to orient herself enough to use her power on me. If she did that, I was basically dead. I wouldn’t snap out of it before Pencil managed to catch up. 

There was no time to do anything else. I couldn’t even try to get my hands in front of myself. It would have taken too many of the precious seconds I didn’t actually have. Pencil was already vaulting the fence. I could hear it rattling. Quickly, I turned, activating another small portion of purple paint on me before lashing out with a kick to Cup’s face. She stopped her silent groaning and fell flat. Unconscious, for the moment at least. Stooping, I grabbed her hands and gripped them tightly. Casting a quick look over my shoulder, I saw Pencil dropping off the fence and turning to sprint our way. He probably couldn’t really see us from there, not with the shadows of the trees added to what was already a pretty dark night. Still, he was coming straight for us, with the two minions right behind. I had to move, now!  

Silencing myself as well, I took off running while dragging the unconscious Cup behind me on her stomach. With the purple paint, I barely felt her weight. And as long as she was with me, conscious or not, the cuffs wouldn’t force me to the ground. I could do this. It was awkward as hell, running while literally dragging a full grown woman behind me with my hands cuffed like that. But what else was I going to do, let Pencil catch up and do any of the horrific things he had in mind? Running blind through the dark forest while dragging Cup was the only option I had. 

Except it wasn’t… really like running blind, was it? Because just like my last time traveling through the woods at night, I wasn’t stumbling nearly as much as I should have been. Sure, it was a bit unwieldy, running with Cup like this. But it definitely wasn’t as bad as I would’ve thought it would be. I instinctively knew when to duck from branches I couldn’t actually see. I gave a little hop now and then, passing right over thick roots or low bushes that would have sent me sprawling. Most people running through a nearly pitch-black forest in the middle of the night with their hands cuffed behind their backs probably would have eaten dirt within a few seconds. But I just… didn’t. I knew where and how to move to avoid hitting anything, even though there was no way I could have seen any of it in time. Particularly given I was running flat out, with a good portion of my attention centered on listening to the sound of pursuit. It was just… instinct of some kind? 

Whatever, I wasn’t going to question it. I didn’t have time to question it. All I knew was that I had to keep moving. The sound of Pencil’s pursuit faded somewhat as I gained ground on him, but I could still hear the psycho and his two minions not too far behind. All three had flashlights they were shining around, the beams flickering wildly back and forth as they searched for me. 

Briefly, I worried about one of them opening fire before realizing that they wouldn’t risk hitting Cup. They still hadn’t been able to get a good look at me and were simply following the trail I left in my wild flight. So maybe it was time to do something to make following me a bit harder. 

First, I renewed my own purple paint once more before using my grip on Cup’s hands to put a bit more black paint on her. Keeping her silent was just as important as anything else right now, and I didn’t trust her not to wake up at some point in this and immediately use her power to put an end to my escape. As long as I could stop her from talking, she’d be a hell of a lot more manageable. I just wished I’d had the time and materials to actually tie her up, or do… anything other than dragging her along by the hands. 

Fortunately, for now, she was still knocked out. But I kept the black paint going just in case. Then, keeping my grip on her hands, I moved one finger to point at a tree we were passing and shot a spray of white paint at it. While continuing to run, I put a whole line of white paint down, trying to judge when I only had a small amount of paint left. Then I stopped spraying, but kept running. Behind me, the sound of the three thoroughly pissed off pursuers grew louder from my hesitation. They were close. Too damn close. If I waited any longer, they’d be right on top of me. Then I’d either be dead, or just wish very badly that I was. 

But the worst thing about all of this? I missed running through the dark forest with Paige. At least she hadn’t been dead weight who would also have tried to kill me if she was awake. That was how far I’d fallen. I missed Paige Banners. What in the seventeen hells was my life? 

At least I didn’t panic. I focused on the sound of the men running. I judged where they were, all while also sprinting through the dark woods. How? How could I run like this, drag this unconscious girl behind me, navigate a totally unfamiliar forest in the middle of the night while also listening to my pursuers and accurately judging exactly where they were in those same unfamiliar woods? How? 

It was ridiculous. I shouldn’t have been able to. But I did. I knew, without question, exactly when the men reached the spot where I had left that line of white paint. Which meant I knew exactly when to trigger it. 

I’d left enough paint right there that, as it activated, that whole area of the forest briefly lit up. It was incredibly bright. Knowing it was coming, I had closed my eyes just in case and was faced away. But I still saw a bit of the flash. Being right on top of it would have been utterly blinding.  Which, given the sudden new litany of screaming curses coming from back there, it really was. And it was more than a flash, actually. The light continued on for a full ten seconds, making it even harder for my pursuers to see where they were going. 

But that was just step one of plan ‘lose these assholes.’ The second the flash triggered, I also painted the boots on my feet bright blue and triggered the last of the purple paint that I had prepared on the inside of my costume. With the added strength, I leapt as hard as I could, triggering the blue paint on my way down. The impact from the jump against that blue paint rocketed me up and forward. With Cup held tightly, I went flying through the trees, breaking through a handful of branches on the way. Coming down, my feet landed for an instant. But the blue paint on my boots was still active, so I was launched upward again and kept flying. 

For the next ten seconds, I kept essentially bouncing my way through the forest. Each blue-and-purple-paint assisted leap carried me a huge distance, while my weird and unexplained subconscious knowledge of where all the trees and such were meant I could safely make those leaps without slamming headfirst into an obstacle. In the brief time that my pursuers would have been blinded, I put as much distance between us as possible. It would be a lot harder for them to track me accurately with so much space between landings. They couldn’t easily track my footprints when those footprints were at least sixty feet apart. 

Finally, I had to stop. Partly because I felt Cup starting to shift in my grip. She was waking up. So I dropped both of us down, releasing the bitch before hitting her with more black paint. Then I pivoted to face her. 

Yeah, she was awake. She wasn’t happy or fully coherent, but she was awake. Her eyes blinked at me blearily, barely visible through the moonlight that cut through the trees. Even with the white mask covering the bottom of her face, I could tell she was trying to speak, only to freeze when no sound came out. Even as dark as it was, I could see the hatred and anger in her sudden glare. Yup, she was becoming more coherent by the second, and was definitely pissed off. 

But guess what, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about this whole situation either. Given the choice, I would’ve left her there. But the cuffs meant that I didn’t have that choice. Instead, I had to keep dragging her around with me. 

Or did I? Wait a second. Thinking quickly, I pivoted and used my cuffed hands to shoot a bunch of red paint over the other girl. She flailed, and was already shoving herself to her feet when I pivoted back the other way, shooting one bit of red toward the nearby tree. As Cup made it up, hand grabbing for something in her costume, I triggered the paint while diving out of the way. With a silent yelp, she was hauled through the air, slamming face-first into the tree. Oops not oops. 

Of course, the thing Cup had been grabbing was a gun. It fell to the ground as she was yanked through the air. I heard the thump of it landing and saw the outline of it right at my feet. Quickly, I kicked it off out of sight before moving to the psycho currently held tight against the tree. She was struggling, and I heard her voice start to cut in just in time for me to hit her with a quick shot of black paint. 

Ten seconds. I had ten seconds before the red paint would release her. Which meant I couldn’t exactly be gentle or careful about this. Instead, I shoved my back right up against hers, pinning her even more fully against the wood. My cuffed hands frantically felt up her pants for pockets while I found myself muttering, “Sorry, sorry, I know you’re a fucking psycho, but sorry.” One by one, I shoved my hands into her pockets, searching them as quickly as I could while trying to ignore the unfortunate… positioning and circumstances. 

Gum, a notebook, a pen, a switchblade, no key, no key! Damn it, please don’t say it fucking fell out while she was being dragged back there. If it was lying somewhere in the woods, I was screwed. 

Finally, shoving one hand inside her back pocket (and really trying to ignore how awkward that was), I found it. The key. It was there. My fingers closed around it, and I jerked away from her, half-stumbling before pivoting back to face her. Unlocking the cuffs behind my own back wasn’t exactly easy, but I had a trick. Namely, I brushed my finger over the cuffs until I found the keyhole. Then I shot a tiny dot of red paint into that keyhole. With my other hand, I found the tip of the key, painting that red as well. 

With that done, I just activated the tiny dots of red paint on both, and the key was immediately yanked straight into the hole. I pivoted, grasping for it with my fingers. Just as I got hold of it, Cup fell backward off the tree. The red paint had worn off, which meant the black had definitely–

“How many–” 

That was as far as I let her get. Still holding the key with two fingers, I lashed out as hard as I could, kicking Cup in the back. It was enough to stop her from talking, knocking her forward into the tree with a yelp. Using the bare couple of seconds that gained me, I twisted the key. The cuffs popped open, and I let them fall to the ground with a clatter before quickly shooting black paint at Cup once more. That shut her up again, just as she was trying to talk. 

The black paint did not, however, stop her from turning and diving at me. I went down hard with the older, bigger girl on top of me, landing on my back while her fist slammed into my chin. Her eyes were wild in the moonlight, her fist colliding with my face so hard I almost saw more stars in front of me than were visible in the sky through the trees. Fuck, I missed my helmet.

Then she hit me a third time, and ended up regretting it. Because I didn’t have my helmet, but I did have orange paint. That time, her fist didn’t hurt me at all, while she made a flinching motion. Adding purple paint, I shoved her off me, lashing out with a kick into her stomach that doubled the crazy bitch over. Before she could recover, I quickly kicked out again to knock her legs out from under her. It was Cup’s turn to fall on her back. 

It was also her turn to wear those handcuffs. Before she could recover, I grabbed the cuffs from the ground, linking them around her wrists. They clicked into place, just as a flashlight beam swept nearby. My gaze snapped over that way, and I saw them. My pursuers were coming fast. I didn’t have time to do anything else. But hopefully dealing with Cup would slow them down. 

“Later,” I whispered, patting her on the back before tucking the key in my pocket. Then I painted the outside of my costume completely black, activated the silencing power, and took off running. A bit of green on my shoes lent a bit of speed, letting me haul ass away from that spot. 

Go, go! My hands were free and I didn’t have to lug Cup around anymore. Plus, they wouldn’t be able to get her out of there very easily without the key that I was carrying. This was my chance to get to the cabin ahead of them and warn Robert. I just had to keep fucking moving!

So, I did. With my hands freed, I was able to move much faster, using a mixture of blue and red paint to bounce and yank myself from tree to tree, with added green for speed. Ignoring the darkness entirely, I practically flew through the unfamiliar woods. Cabin. I needed to find that cabin, but how? The road. Look for the road. But even that didn’t help too much. The road could be anywhere, considering how I’d blindly fled through the forest with Cup earlier. I had no idea where I was now in relation to that road even before adding in how much it could have wound its way through the forest. 

In the end, I realized I was being stupid. Height. I needed height. At the next tree, I yanked myself to the top, dropped blue paint on the final sturdy branch, and launched upward over the canopy to get a better view of things. 

There. Lights. There were very clear house lights off in the distance. That had to be it. Dark as the forest was, those lights stood out like a beacon. Instantly, I yanked myself to the next tree over and full-on raced that way. I had to get there ahead of the Scions. No matter what happened, no matter what it took, I had to warn Bobby! 

The cabin really was isolated in the middle of nowhere. It was a two-story affair that looked like it had come straight out of some storybook, with a perfectly cut and stacked woodpile on the porch beside the front door, a path leading down to the nearby stream, a cozy little handmade swing, the works. The road went right up to the lot, and I could see fresh tire tracks, but no vehicle. 

Hurriedly, I red-painted myself all the way across the clearing to the front door, knocking on it rapidly while calling, “Mr. Parson! Mr. Parson!” Looking over my shoulder, I muttered a curse and then used purple paint to shove the door in. “I’m on your side! You’re in danger, you–” 

Then I stepped in, and saw no one there. The interior of the cabin was pretty simple, and open enough that it was clear no one was there. There was the main room with a bed in one corner to the left and a living area to the right, with a television, computer on a desk, and an attached kitchenette. Across from the entrance was the bathroom, the door open to reveal that it was as devoid of occupants as the rest of the place. 

He wasn’t here. No one was here. But the lights were on. And there were fresh tire tracks. Quickly, I turned to leave. Then I saw it. A shelf on the wall next to the door, where you might drop your keys, wallet, or whatever was in your pockets. There were no keys on the shelf. Instead, I saw three small objects. Two were toy planes, one an air force jet fighter while the other had started out its life that way but had been painted bright pink with little purple lightning bolts on the wings, and an additional pair of wings that were glued to the bottom of the first. Beside both toy planes was a small action figure. 

I stopped breathing when I saw the toys. My hand covered my mouth and I felt like throwing up. I didn’t know why. I couldn’t… understand why. What was wrong with me? What was wrong with me?! Staring at those toys, my breathing grew louder, more labored. It felt like something was sitting on my chest, like… like I couldn’t breathe. It felt like… I was… cold. I was so cold. I was scared. Why? Why was I so scared? I was even more afraid, in that moment of looking at those toys, than I had been out in those woods. It was a panic attack. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t–couldn’t–

The sound of someone at the door snapped my attention that way. I saw the sackcloth mask. I saw the raised gun. I covered the chest part of my costume in orange paint. 

It didn’t help that much. Whatever that weapon was, it hit me with some kind of invisible force that launched me off the ground. It felt like being kicked in the chest by a horse, even with my orange paint. I was sent flying, crashing hard into the wall before falling to the ground. 

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t–my hands wouldn’t–

Pencil kicked me hard in the side, then again to knock me onto my back. He was standing over me, his powerful weapon (it looked like a futuristic shotgun with a spiral-shaped barrel) pointed down at me. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” His words were taunting. “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to move again in a couple minutes.” 

I saw the way his eyes narrowed. “Course, you hurt Cup. So you won’t live long enough for that to matter. And this time, kid, no tricks. No games. You hurt my little sister. You hurt my Cup. No one does that.” 

That was all he said. That was all he was going to say. He was through playing games, through hamming things up. Through playing, in general. He was just going to pull the trigger… and end me, while I lay completely paralyzed at his feet. After everything I did to escape, after everything I’d done… period, I was helpless. I was trapped. I was alone. 

I was going to d–

And then the window just above my head exploded. A dark shape went flying over me with a terrifying roar, colliding with the weapon in Pencil’s hands before tearing it from his grip. The shape continued on past, sliding across the cabin before whirling back to face us while snarling. 

Holiday. It was the lizard-panther, Holiday. 

In the next second, an explosion of debris was accompanied by a deafening roar, as Mars Bar announced his presence by slamming his way through the front door. 

Just as suddenly, a figure appeared over me. “Hey, asshole!” That-A-Way snapped. 

Pack, next to the towering lizard-bear at the front door, finished with, “Get the fuck away from our friend.”

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Ready 11-02 (Summus Proelium)

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I had no more chances to escape my captors while being escorted out of their bunker than I’d had the whole time in it. Less, actually, considering they put a bag over my head and cinched it in place. Now I was blind and handcuffed, and being guided down the hall by Cup while her brother (whom she apparently enjoyed making out with?!) and Fork trailed behind. There was no way I was going to get away from them just then. We passed through several hallways and, given the way the sound changed, also a few larger rooms. I could hear other voices now and then, some laughing or congratulating their boss, others muttering insults and threats at me. 

It was… it was terrifying. Yeah, I was supposed to be brave. I was supposed to be a Star-Touched, some bright symbol or whatever, who didn’t let this kind of thing scare them. But… I was. I was scared. My body was shaking enough as we walked that I knew they could see it. I had to fight not to let my terrified tears leak too much and blind me. How pathetic was that? How pathetic would it be to have to ask the psychotic supervillain monsters to let me please wipe the baby tears out of my eyes? Damn it, damn it, what the fuck was wrong with me? I was supposed to be brave. I was supposed to be… I was supposed to be better than this.

But I wasn’t, and I couldn’t find a way out. I was forced to just stumble along blindly while I was led to what was apparently an underground garage of some kind. I felt myself brush past a few different cars before being pulled to a stop. One of the doors was opened, and I was not-so-gently pushed inside. As I fell in, Cup shoved my legs the rest of the way. Then the bag was pulled off my head to reveal the fact that I was now in the back seat of an SUV, on the floor. From my prone position, I could see a couple random guys step up into the middle seat. They weren’t wearing masks or anything, but honestly, I probably couldn’t have picked them out of a lineup later anyway. They just looked like random, average guys I would have passed on the street without a second thought. They could’ve been clerks at the corner gas station or accountants. Anything, really. Which made the fact that they clearly worked for Pencil and worshiped the Abyssal Typhon even more disturbing. These guys weren’t polite enough to tattoo ‘sick freak obsessed with literal monsters’ across their foreheads, unfortunately. 

Cup hopped up in the back with me, stepping on my leg in the process before her heel went back to kick me in the side. Then she plopped down on the seat, a pistol held idly in one hand. “Try anything,” she informed me, “and I’ll shoot the next five people we pass on the street.” 

“You can’t go anywhere with the cuffs on,” Pencil reminded me. “So don’t try to get cute.” Then he shut the door before moving around to the driver’s side. Fork was apparently not coming. It was just the three of us heading out on this particular trip. Well, the three of us and the two random guys in the middle seat. But no Fork or other Fell-Touched, apparently. How lucky for me. Now I only had to find a way to escape my stay-down cuffs and deal with two of the worst supervillains in the city, along with a couple of their cannon fodder. Where was the challenge? 

Yeah, I wasn’t even convincing myself. I was in really deep shit. Really deep. Marianas trench deep. And I had no idea what I could possibly do to get out of it. None. I was in worse trouble than… yeah, this was the worst trouble I’d ever been in. Because I was pretty sure this time wasn’t going to end with these guys just trading my freedom for a favor, like Deicide. Laying there on the floor of the car, with Cup sitting just above me, I was genuinely afraid that… that I wouldn’t get out of this in one piece, or at all. And if I didn’t, what would happen to my parents, my family? Would they just keep being evil and… and hurting people? What would happen to Wren, or Izzy? Especially Izzy. She was stuck in that house with my evil family. And if I wasn’t there, if I couldn’t be there to help if she got in trouble, what would happen to her then? What if Izzy found out what I had and she had no one to help her, just like I had no one right now? 

I was scared. And everything running through my mind about what could happen to the people I cared about if I didn’t come back made that fear even worse. It was all I could do not to cry like a pathetic little baby as I lay there, frozen in terror as the vehicle started up, the engine coming to life with a steady rumble. And from the brief look that Cup gave me, I could tell she heard the very slight noise that I made while holding back those tears and was pretty amused by it. 

Okay, Cassidy, I told myself. Yes, this is bad. This is… this is really bad. But here’s the thing, if you do nothing, these people will kill you. They will torture and kill you, probably in the worst way possible. Either that or they’ll try to use that torture to turn you to their side, to break you. So what are you going to do? Lay there and cry about how unfair all this is, about how scared you are? Or are you going to get it together and start thinking of a way out of this? Stop sniffling and start thinking of actual solutions. Because nobody is out there. Nobody is coming for you. 

The problem was, easy as it might’ve been to think that to myself, it didn’t actually solve anything more than crying about it would have. I was still stuck here, trapped by a group of psychopaths with no apparent way out of it. My powers couldn’t get me out with these cuffs on. I still had them, but the paint wouldn’t be able to launch me out of this car and away from the Scions. If I got too far away from Cup, I’d be yanked down to the ground by too much force for the red, purple, or blue paints to counter. Besides, even if I could get away, Cup had promised she would shoot several people in retaliation. Could I really condemn them to die like that? 

No. I couldn’t just escape. I had to stop them… somehow. Think. I just had to think. And ignore the fact that Cup was staring at me with what I could only imagine was open and contemptuous amusement behind that mask of hers. She knew. She knew I was trying to think of a way out of this, and she found it funny. Of course she did. She and Pencil were like psychotic little kids tormenting a bug they had found by the side of the road. She clearly wanted me to pay, not only for helping to stop them from doing too much damage to that children’s hospital before, but also because I had physically hurt her. She wanted me to suffer, which meant dragging this out. 

The sound of the Monster Mash song interrupted my thoughts. It was coming from Cup, who took a phone from her pocket and answered with, “What’s up, buttercup?” There was a brief pause as she listened for a moment before murmuring a few acknowledgments. Then she looked toward the front. “Shovel says a couple Touched showed up at the old bitch’s house. Looked like that Compasscunt from the Little League Of Charity Scouts or whatever the fuck they call themselves, and Blackjack’s newest girls, Soundwave and the one with the lizards.” 

That-A-Way, Pack, and… um… the sound girl. I hadn’t actually met or seen her in person yet, and I couldn’t remember her name just then. What were they doing? It was obvious that the ‘old bitch’s house’ was the one I’d been captured at. And clearly just as obvious what those guys were doing. They were looking for me. Pack had obviously found a way to contact That-A-Way, found out I’d lied, and they’d gone there themselves, only to be too late. 

“Well, obviously our friend in the back there kept up with his old buddies from the hospital. How sweet. Shovel have any trouble with them?” Pencil asked idly from the front, his attention clearly more on other things.

“Hold on.” Cup listened for a second before muttering a curse. Then she answered. “Nope, he took off when the annoying invincible cunt from Ten Towers showed up. Skipper or whatever.” 

“Skip,” Pencil corrected, sounding slightly more interested. “You’re saying there were people from three different groups, villains and heroes alike, all just… together at that house? The Minority girl and the one with the lizards are one thing, they worked together before. Maybe even this Broadway, assuming she’s partners or friends with the Lizard. But what was someone from Ten Towers doing there?” From his tone, I could tell that the next words were directed at me. “You been making even more friends there, buddy?” 

I didn’t respond, of course. What was I going to say to the asshole? Besides, I was still trying to figure out why Skip was there myself. I’d run into her earlier, of course. But so what? Why would she be at the house? It didn’t make sense. Maybe she was friends with That-A-Way? But even that was weird and didn’t seem right. I couldn’t figure it out, even if I had wanted to answer. 

“Playing the strong, silent type, huh?” There was a chuckle in Pencil’s voice. “Well, just keep in mind, they won’t find you. The toy we used to kill the signal in your phone and anything else you’ve got on you isn’t a half-measure. See, we’ve found over the years that people keep trying to make it harder and harder for a good kidnapper to make a living. You’ve got duplicate phones, tracking devices in the clothes, embedded in the shoes, under the skin… some people are just really fucking averse to being abducted for some reason, you know? Anyway, short of full-body exploratory surgery every goddamn time we want to hold someone for awhile, the best choice is our signal killer. Your phone and any other tracking device you might have on you just in case of… well, in case of something like this, are all permanently offline. But hey, I bet you could still play Candy Crush on that thing. That’s something, huh? Am I a nice guy or what? I mean, until I cut your thumbs off. Hey, what do you think would be worse, losing both thumbs or one eye?” 

Yeah, I wasn’t going to rise to that bait. I just stayed silent and looked at Cup. She looked back at me, shoulders shaking just a little with silent laughter. It was clear that she was endlessly amused by her brother’s antics. Which made precisely one of us. Or three, I supposed, given the two other guys who were apparently just fine and dandy working for fucking psychopaths. 

When I refused to respond, Pencil just continued. “No opinion? Eh, I guess I’ll take it as it comes. Honestly, I’m leaning toward the eye thing. All that jumping and running around you keep doing, how hard do you think it’d be with shitty depth perception? Honestly, that seriously might be worth letting you go afterward, just to see you hopping around slamming into things, falling off buildings, shit like that. Fucking great. But see, that gets to my whole deal with this. Killing you? That’s amateur hour. There’s no point. Some guy catches you off-guard with a fucking pistol can kill you. No. No, that’s too easy. That’s too… boring. What someone like you needs, what you deserve, is to be broken. And you mark my words, Mr. Paintball, when we’re through this little road trip, I’ll be able to turn my full and undivided attention to you. 

“And you will be broken when I’m done.” 

Once her brother was done talking, Cup stared at me intently for a few seconds. Whatever she was looking for she must have found, because she looked toward the front where I assumed Pencil was watching and gave him a slight nod. Without my helmet, she could probably see the genuine fear in my eyes through the simple ski mask. Try as I might, I couldn’t suppress it. I couldn’t entirely shove down the terror of what might happen, what would happen if I didn’t find a way out of this. I’d seen the news reports. I’d read the articles, heard… heard witnesses that the Scions had intentionally released to carry their stories to the public. Pencil was right, there was no one to help me. I was on my own. And if I didn’t escape, if I didn’t get out of this on my own, then I was going to suffer and probably die on my own. Or suffer so much I gave up my friends and family. Wren. If I told them about Wren, how they could find and twist her…

No. No, no, no. I had to get out of this. I had to get out of this. I wouldn’t let that happen. Please.

Okay, think. I had to think. Laying on my back there on the floor, I closed my eyes, hoping Cup would assume I was consumed with terror and leave me alone. I just had to think. 

It was late. I had no idea how long I’d been knocked out before, because I’d stupidly not paid attention to the time when I tried to call for help only to find no signal. So it could be ten at night, two in the morning, or anything else. All I knew was that it was dark through the windows of the SUV, save for the glimpses of passing headlights and streetlamps. And because I couldn’t check my phone, I had no idea if my parents were in the middle of a full-scale meltdown about me being missing, or if they hadn’t even noticed yet. Mark that as something to deal with if the time came. That was, if I got out of this alive. 

Which led to the whole escaping part. Yeah. Okay, so what did I have? I could use my powers, but that wouldn’t help much. Purple paint couldn’t make me strong enough to break cuffs that had been designed to hold much stronger Touched than me. Green paint could make me fast, but the second I got too far away from Cup, I’d just be yanked to the ground. Same for red pulling me away from them, or blue launching me. Whatever I did, a second later I’d be yanked down and my ‘escape’ would be over and done with. So… so what the fuck could I do? 

I knew where Lake Victoria was. It was about an hour and a half or so from Detroit. I had that long to think of a plan, a way to get out of this and not end up under Pencil’s undivided attention.

So stop panicking, stop being a sniveling little baby, and think. Focus. I could get out of this. I had to get out of this. Hour and a half, brain. You’ve got an hour and a half to think of a genius escape plan.  

Please don’t let me down. 

*****

When the SUV pulled to a stop along a gravel road, it was still dark outside. My eyes turned slightly to look at the window next to Cup’s head, as I listened to Pencil telling the two men in the middle seat to get out and look around. Once they did so, he addressed my babysitter. “Baby sis, you ready for a little hike?” 

“Can’t we just drive up there?” the girl retorted, her foot idly kicking against my stomach. “Look, the road keeps going up through that gate. How far do we have to walk?” 

“Couple miles, according to the map,” came the response. “And we can’t drive it. Knowing the old man, he’ll hear the car engine and see the lights. After all we’ve gone through to find this cocksucker, you really wanna give him a chance to escape? We’ll hoof it in through the forest.” 

From her reaction, I could tell that Cup wasn’t happy about that. But she didn’t argue. Instead, she just gave me a harder kick, practically stomping on my stomach before opening the door. Her hand grabbed my ankle and yanked, while I scrambled to push myself up awkwardly. I basically half-fell out of the vehicle, then completely fell as she gave me a kick in the back of the leg. 

We were in the middle of nowhere. To the left, I could see water in the far distance. Lake Victoria, I assumed. To the right was a forested area. The gravel road we were on stretched back into the darkness and continued up through a simple metal gate that stretched across it.

Cup was standing over me, while the two random thugs were spread out. One was examining the gate while the other ran some kind of scanner over the fence before calling back that it was electrified. Pencil was just getting out, adjusting the mask that I was pretty sure he’d had off the whole time we were driving. 

It was now or never. These guys wouldn’t be this distracted again. In a second, they’d remember to pay more attention to me. It was time to enact my genius plan. 

So, I kicked Cup in the leg. More to the point, I activated the purple paint I’d prepared earlier on the inside of my costume leg, powered it, and lashed out with as hard of a kick as I could manage. At the same time, I turned a bit so that the hands behind my back were pointed at her, and shot a bit of silencing black at her chest, to muffle her scream as she started to fall. And to stop the bitch from using her power, of course.  

As Cup fell, I continued my roll so that my cuffed hands were pointed back toward the truck and the gate that one of the men was still inspecting. A shot of red at each sent the SUV flying that way, narrowly missing Pencil, who dropped into a roll to avoid it.

Meanwhile, that one bit of purple was far from the only paint I’d prepared for this. I had a whole fucking art gallery going on inside my costume, and in that moment, I used green to speed myself up and orange for the defense. I was on my feet, standing over the fallen Cup with my back to her as she held her leg and screamed silently. 

Pencil was coming back to his feet, already out of his roll with his pistol raised. He fired twice, both shots hitting my chest. They stung, but otherwise I was fine. Fine enough to pivot, lashing out with my still-enhanced strength to kick Cup right in the face while she was still on the ground. My foot hit her hard enough to knock the bitch onto her back. 

I kept pivoting. Pencil had fired three more times while running toward me. One shot missed, the other two hit me. Again, they stung without actually damaging me too much. But it was definitely starting to hurt. Time to go!

Standing over the prone Cup while facing the incoming Pencil, I shot red down at her, matching it with my gloved hand. She was jerked upward, and I caught her arm. 

Pencil knew. He bellowed a threat, a warning, a promise, all three. I ignored him. Using my free hand, I shot blue paint at the ground between us and lunged at it while hauling the dazed and barely conscious Cup along for the ride. My feet hit the paint as I activated it, launching me and Cup high into the air, my momentum carrying us forward. 

We flew over the fence, joined together by the red paint as we came crashing down in the middle of a group of trees some distance beyond. It wasn’t a pretty landing. We fell together, rolling along the ground in a tangled jumble. I took one of Cup’s elbows to the face and I was pretty sure she wasn’t even trying. 

In the end, when the dust settled, the two of us were lying in the dirt next to a bush. I could hear Pencil screaming after me, promising everything he was going to do if I didn’t let his sister go. 

So there I was, barely out of Pencil’s sight, in the middle of nowhere. My hands were still cuffed behind my back, and the only way I could keep moving was by dragging Cup along with me. Because that was the secret. I couldn’t run away from Cup without being yanked to the ground, but as long as she was with me when I escaped, willingly or not, the cuffs wouldn’t activate. And thanks to the black paint, she couldn’t use the command word to activate them manually. 

Now all I had to do was stay away from a totally enraged Pencil and his goons, find my way through this completely dark forest in the middle of nowhere, and stop the bad guys from killing Robert Parsons, all while dragging Queen Psycho along with my hands literally tied behind my back. 

Genius plan indeed. 

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Ready 11-01 (Summus Proelium)

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I had no idea how much time had passed when I eventually snapped awake. There was no slow waking process, no chance to pretend I was still out of it. There was just a sudden rush of panicked adrenaline, as if I’d had a nightmare. Then I was sitting up, eyes wide as I practically hyperventilated while looking around wildly to see where I was. The memory of Pencil’s sack-cloth covered face staring intently at me as I passed out was fresh in my panicked mind. 

He wasn’t in front of me anymore. I also wasn’t in that backyard. The room around me was fairly small, just nine feet by nine feet square, and empty. The floor, ceiling, and all four walls were made of cement. There was a heavy metal door straight ahead from where I was sitting, with one of those sliding window hatch things that someone outside could open to look in. 

Um. This was bad. I was just gonna go ahead and say this was really bad. The Scions of Typhon, and Pencil in particular, were evil fucking psychopaths at the best of times, to anyone. But they had reason to be particularly annoyed with me. This… yeah, this was very fucking bad. 

My helmet was missing, I realized belatedly. But I still had on my mask and the rest of my costume. The worry that I hadn’t always had my mask on blared in the back of my head, but there was literally nothing I could do about that right now. I had to find a way out of this place. 

Wait, my phones! Quickly, I checked my pockets. They were there. So was the photo that I’d taken out of that car, but I ignored that for the moment. Instead, I pulled my Touched phone out and looked at it. No signal. Of course, why would Pencil and his people be stupid enough to leave me in a position where I could simply call for help? This wasn’t exactly their first kidnapping. 

Okay, I had to find a way out of this. I had to. The Scions were not the kind of people who would just let me go. This was going to get a hell of a lot worse really quick if I didn’t get out of here. No one was coming to help me. No one knew where I was. I’d stubbornly insisted on dealing with this myself, while lying to Pack that I would ask That-A-Way for help. So neither of them knew I was in trouble, or where I might be even if they did figure that out. I was on my own. 

How was I supposed to escape from a cement room? The purple paint made me strong, but not that strong. The red paint might be able to yank the steel door off its hinges, maybe. Or at least bend it enough for me to squeeze out. But if it did, what was on the other side? I could not deal with the entire team of Scions, Touched and Prev alike, all by myself, right in the middle of wherever they’d taken me. That wasn’t gonna happen.

But did I have a choice besides trying? What else was I going to do, sit here and wait for Pencil to get to the part where he tortured me for funsies? Plead with them to pretty please let me go? Yeah, like that would be useful for anything other than possibly making them laugh a little bit. 

Getting to my feet, I ignored the mounting panic, the confusion over that whole picture with the Anthony kid and me, my guilt over getting Eits hurt and then lying to Pack about contacting That-A-Way, and everything else. The only thing that mattered right now was getting out of here.

To that end, I focused on that metal door. Using the red paint to tear it free, with help from purple paint for strength as I yanked on it, was my best chance. I didn’t see any cameras or anything, so I might be able to pull this off and take whoever was outside by surprise if I managed to get the door free before they could react to the sound. Wait, sound. Duh. Black paint. Okay, I would silence the door and the wall around it just to be on the safe side. Then I’d tear it free and deal with whatever was waiting for me. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was better than sitting here waiting.

Or… the sliding viewing hatch thing could move aside, revealing a pair of eyes staring in at me. There was a lingering pause as the eyes took me in for a moment, then the hatch slid closed and I heard the muffled sound of a voice calling out to someone else, “Hey, he’s awake!”  

He. The person called me a he. That was good, right? It showed that my whole disguise wasn’t blown or anything. I was basically trying to latch onto anything remotely positive in that moment. 

While I was still trying to orient myself from having my hypothetical escape attempt aborted so quickly, there was the sound of several heavy locks disengaging on the other side of the door. Really heavy locks, it seemed like. With a couple more dull thunks of metal settling into place, the door was hauled open. It pulled outward, revealing a figure standing in a dimly lit stone hallway. 

“If Santa’s reindeer staged a coup, who would their leader be?” 

Wait, what–Santa’s reindeer were… right, Dasher and Dancer, Prancer and Vixen, Comet and Cupid, and Donner and Blitzen. I’d always thought of the ones in front as the leaders, but would that be Blitzen? That sounded right, he was the last one mentioned so he was like the leader, right? Or would that be Rudolph? No, Rudolph was added last so there was no way he’d be the leader of a coup. Would he even be involved in a coup, or would he be too loyal to Santa to–

My hands were cuffed behind my back. Snapping out of my brief daze, I saw Cup, of course. She was in her white cloak, bodysuit, and the matching mask that covered the bottom half of her face while leaving the upper half, including brilliantly gleaming blue eyes, revealed. I saw a hint of dark hair mostly hidden within the hood as she winked at me. “Hiya, Colorboy. Is it my turn to break your arm?” Her tone was intentionally, almost mockingly light, but there was an underlying anger there. Yeah, she was definitely holding a grudge.

Cup continued. “Those are stay-down cuffs, for the record. So don’t think you can just attack us and run off. You won’t get very far.” Her eyes watched mine intently, before laughing at whatever she saw there. 

Another figure appeared in the doorway just beyond the psycho girl. It was Fork, the living porcupine guy with the explosive quills. He gave me a hateful glare before clearing his throat. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Cup snapped without looking that way. Her eyes rolled as she spoke in a stage-whisper. “People are so impatient, am I right?” Without waiting for me to answer, she added, “Oh well, ready to join the party upstairs?” As if I had the slightest hint of a choice. “Pencil really wants to talk to you. And he’s even more impatient sometimes than Pokey there.”

Things had been bad before. Now they were worse. I had stay-down cuffs on, so even if I managed to get away from these two, I wouldn’t get very far. The cuffs would just yank me to the ground, and they were made to keep people a hell of a lot stronger than I was right where they were. Plus, with Cup and Fork here, not to mention whoever else happened to be near… yeah, I wasn’t going anywhere. Not yet, anyway. I was going to have to just go along with things and look for an opening. And try to keep myself from panicking too much. I had to shove the rising terror down, because it wasn’t helpful right now. I had to push it away and keep my eyes open. Bad as this was, something would happen. That, or I’d just make it happen. 

As soon as I came to the decision not to try to fight right now, Cup immediately spoke. “And there it is. He knows better.” Somehow, she’d apparently read all of that in my eyes. Probably because she was very accustomed to dealing with people who felt hopeless and realized how totally screwed they were. 

Stepping aside, the white-clad psychopath gestured for Fork to lead the way. “Let’s get him upstairs, before brother dearest has a conniption. You know how he loves his dramatic moments.” 

Brother… wait, Pencil was her brother? Was that a secret? I felt like that was a secret. Which didn’t say much about their intentions for me, not that that was much of a surprise. Still, no wonder Anchovy had said that Pencil would be mad at me for hurting Cup. She was his sister.

We seemed to be in some kind of underground bunker, from what I could tell as we moved through the narrow corridor beyond the room that had been my cell. The whole time I desperately watched for an escape opportunity, but there just… wasn’t anything. Fork was ahead of me, Cup behind me, and there were various armed guards along the way who definitely weren’t just going to let me run off even if I could have escaped my cuffs. And that was the biggest problem anyway. Nothing I could do would let me go anywhere with these damn cuffs on. The second I tried to leave Cup’s range, I would simply be yanked to the floor. Damn it! Fuck, fuck, how could I be so stupid? I was still stupid, even after getting Eits hurt by asking him to help me. What was I supposed to do now? There had to be something, right? There… there had to be something…

But there wasn’t. Or at least, not one that I could think of before we turned left at a T-junction in the corridors, went through three different heavy steel doors in succession with a short six foot hallway between each, and emerged into… an apartment? Yeah, it looked like an ordinary old, fairly middle of the road apartment living room with an attached kitchenette in the middle of this bomb shelter, bunker, whatever it was. 

Pencil was there, watching tv in a recliner while wearing a bathrobe over his regular costume, sackcloth mask and all. He held a tumbler of whiskey or something, swishing it around thoughtfully without looking up as we entered. His focus seemed to be on the television nearby, where someone on the news was reporting about some kind of fight between the state heroes known as the Spartans, and the Ninety-Niners. 

Neither Cup nor Fork spoke or did anything to attract the man’s attention. Not that they needed to, considering the sound the door made when it was opening. He knew we were there, but ignored us while watching the screen, still swishing that whiskey around thoughtfully. Through it all, I was frantically trying to think if there was anything I could do, anything at all. 

Finally, the man picked up the remote, muted the television, and addressed me without looking. “Do you know why we let you keep your phone and anything else you have on you? Do you know why you still have your costume and mask? Aside from…” He gestured vaguely toward the nearby table, where I could see my helmet sitting. 

“Um.” I paused before guessing, “Because you really like a challenge?” 

There was a slight chuckle at that, from both him and Cup. Fork was silent. Pencil finally stood from his chair, shrugging out of the robe before letting it fall as he stepped my way. Stopping in front of me, the man tilted his head, staring at me through the holes in that simple sack of a mask. “No, because it’s not a challenge. I’m sure you already tried calling for help, to no avail. You’re alone here, surrounded by people who… I promise, would very much like to kill you after making sure you suffer so goddamn much. And you have no way of escaping, let alone posing any sort of threat.

“You have your mask because, while I could have taken it away from you, it will be so much more fun when you give it to me yourself. Taking something from someone? Any buffoon with a knife can do that. Making you give it up yourself? Making you give me your mask, tell me your name, your age, the names of your family, your friends? Making you do all of that in the desperate hope of sparing yourself some… small measure of pain, that’s just… that is the real power. I could take everything from you in a single moment. But that’s like playing a game with all the cheat codes on. It’s fun for about five minutes, but you don’t get the real experience, you know what I mean? No, the real joy is in stretching things out, in truly earning that submission. You are going to give that mask to me yourself, along with everything else I ask for. And that is far more fun than simply taking it from you like some sort of thug.” 

It took me a second to find my voice. I was supposed to be brave and basically spit in the face of danger, but it was hard to find a witty retort in that moment. I was terrified. I knew what the Scions of Typhon did to their victims. I knew just how sadistic they could be. Trapped here, alone, surrounded by several of the most dangerous, monstrous pieces of shit in the country? Yeah, a quick, pithy retort didn’t come immediately to mind. 

But I also didn’t want them to know just how easily they could get to me. So I finally found my voice, the only response that came to mind being to basically echo his words with as much disbelief as I could manage. “You think you can hurt me enough to make me just tell you who I am and sic you on all my friends and family?” 

Somehow, I resisted the urge to tell him that he might be surprised at just how hard taking on my family would end up being. I was going to say nothing that might give him a hint about my situation, or anything about me. 

“I think,” Pencil replied, stressing that word in a sort-of mocking way, “that you’re very new to this, but you’ve had some early success. I think you’re a very special person, and that I’m going to have a lot of fun, maybe the most fun I’ve had in a long time, breaking that down.” I could see his smile through the hole in the mask. “I think making someone watch you kill the people they care about is a pretty good time. But convincing them to tell you who to target? Making them press that metaphorical button themselves and ask you to please spare them a little pain by hurting someone else? That’s how you really break them. Everyone thinks they’ll be strong, that they’d never betray someone they love. But you know what? Most people do, given enough incentive. How much is enough for you? I guess we’ll find out.” 

“Do we get to play with him now?” Cup asked, her tone pleading. “I was soooo good!” She stepped around me and embraced him tightly, rubbing up against him. “Please let me play with him now. Throw a treat to your little sister!” 

Well, that was kind of an odd thing for a sister to do to her bro–

Then she tugged her mask down a bit (faced mostly away from me so I still couldn’t see her face) and kissed him. Like, full on the mouth. Not just a peck either, it was far more than that. They were… um, yeah, busy like that for a few long seconds. 

What. The. Fuck. 

Was this the torture starting? I felt like this was the torture starting. 

Finally, the man pulled back, rubbing Cup’s shoulders, back, and then, ahhh… lower in a still-very-very-very-not-brotherly way before focusing on me. “Not yet,” he said flatly. “First, I want to see if he’ll answer one question.” His tone darkened. “How do you know Robert Parson? See, he’s been a reeeeeeal pain in the ass. Took me a long time to find his name, even longer to get any kind of lead on him. Then I find out some kid’s out there looking for the same name. Turns out he’s got an address of Robert Parson’s mother. Dead for a year now, rest her soul. So, I sent a couple friends out to convince the kid to give up the goods. They get interrupted, but manage to take his phone. We get the address off that, show up to look for clues about where Parson himself could be, and who do we find there? You. Little old you. 

“So you tell me, kid. Do you know where he is? Because that could spare you a lot of trouble, I promise. Hell, I might even be convinced to let you scoot along on your own, nice and healthy. I may be annoyed with you, but Robert Parson is one that I’m willing to dismiss an awful lot of grudges for. Everything I just said a minute ago about all the things I could put you through, and I’d just let that go in exchange for telling me where that son of a bitch is.” 

Well, that one I could answer honestly. “I’m looking for him too,” I replied simply. “The… the boy your pieces of shit attacked was finding an address for me.” I couldn’t keep the anger about that out of my voice, and I didn’t really try. 

There was a smile from the man. “Is that right? Now why, exactly, would you be looking for Robert Parson?” 

Before I could say anything to that, Fork suddenly looked up from the phone he’d been studying. “Boss,” he started, “they’ve got something. Guy sent a letter from some place near Lake Victoria, north-east of Lansing. Contents were burned or tossed, but they found enough of the envelope in the back of the fireplace to make out the address.” 

That slow, Cheshire smile that showed off Pencil’s teeth appeared, as he murmured, “Really, now? Lake Victoria. What’s that, couple hours from here?” Abruptly, the man gave a sharp whistle and swatted Cup on her backside. “Go warm up the car, babe.” 

While she slinked off to do just that, he looked to me and curiously asked, “Tell me something, kid. What kind of snacks do you like? 

“Cuz we’re going on a car ride.”

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Fault 10-06 (Summus Proelium)

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I was going to have to handle this myself. I wasn’t going to let anyone else get hurt because of my situation. This whole thing came from my family, so I sure as hell wasn’t going to drag anyone else into it. Seeing poor Eits lying there on that bed in that condition had been the wake-up call that I needed. I couldn’t let other people end up in that same situation just because they wanted to help me. Whatever came next, I would have to sink or swim on my own.  

Maybe it was stupid to go off by myself like that. But at that moment, I wasn’t thinking about the danger to myself. I was just thinking about avoiding putting anyone else I cared about in a hospital bed. The thought of Pack, or That-A-Way, or anyone else being hurt the way that Eits had been just about destroyed me. Hell, the memory of what Eits himself had looked like lying there did that all on its own. So no, I couldn’t involve anyone else in this. Not this time. 

What I could do was check out the address the boy had apparently found. Which didn’t help me deal with the men who had attacked him, but their time would come later. I promised myself that. No, this had to be the address of Robert Parson, my old driver and sort-of babysitter when I’d been younger. 

And that was just confusing in and of itself. Why would a bunch of guys jump Eits and hurt him that badly just for looking up the address of this guy? According to Pack,  they’d been looking for the same address. So they didn’t have it either. Did that mean they were enemies of my family? Or was Robert himself an enemy now and that was why he’d stopped being my driver? He was involved in some way with the death of that Anthony kid and his parents, because he’d been in the car with them. So… what then? How was he involved? Which side was he on? Were the guys who were looking for him and had attacked Eits on my family’s side? Or were they attacking my family? Had Robert been involved in killing Anthony and his parents, with the car accident as a cover-up? Why was the name Anthony Tate so familiar to me? What the hell was going on? So many questions, and right now the only actual lead I had was this address. 

All those thoughts were rushing through my head in a jumbled mess while I made my way north, toward the address on the paper. A quick double-check had confirmed my first impression. The address was a house just a few blocks northeast of the zoo. I had used my Maps app to get a look at it. The place just looked like an ordinary, if upscale, three-story Victorian house with a detached garage in the corner of the lot. The lawn had looked well cared for in the satellite image, and there was a tall wrought-iron fence around the property. No cars had been in the driveway, but that didn’t mean anything, considering they could be in that garage. Besides, the photo could have been taken at any time. The only thing I really knew for sure was that I didn’t recognize the house itself from any other trip. Of course, given the fact that my memory had apparently been tampered with by Mr. Jackson, that didn’t mean anything either.  

I didn’t go straight to the house, no matter how much my anger and frustration about what had happened to Eits was driving me to be reckless. Instead, I stopped at the nearest office building in the neighborhood, the tallest structure around. Perched on the edge of the roof there, I scanned the neighborhood until I saw the house in question a couple blocks away.  There was still no visible vehicles, and the lawn looked worse than it had in the picture. It needed to be cut pretty badly, there were visible weeds, and the once-thriving flower garden up near the house hadn’t been tended to in what looked like a pretty long time. Despite those signs that it was abandoned, however, someone had to be there. Because there was a dog trotting around the front yard and it didn’t appear to be starving or anything. At least, not from this distance. And I was pretty sure any place that had been left for as long as it would take things to overgrow as much as they were would have had someone pick up the dog by now. No, it seemed like there was someone living there. They just weren’t taking care of the place anymore for whatever reason. Maybe they couldn’t take care of it. Or didn’t care enough now. Whether that someone was Robert Parson or someone who knew where he was, I was going to find out. And I was also definitely going to find out just what he had to do with the people who had attacked Eits. 

Still, I didn’t want to rush into things and end up doing nothing but making things worse. So, I sat there on the edge of that roof and watched the house for what had to be twenty minutes. Every second that passed, I wanted to go right in there. I wanted to do something useful. I wanted to stop closing my eyes and seeing Eits lying there on the bed. I wanted to distract myself from that horrific guilt that kept eating me up inside. But I waited. I watched, just to make absolutely certain that the house was as clear as it could be and that this wasn’t actually some kind of trap. 

Finally, I couldn’t wait anymore. I had to make my move. Taking a breath, I leapt from the roof of the building with the aid of a blue launch puddle. A shot of red toward the chimney of the next house over carried me there, and I landed lightly before throwing myself up once more. A guy walking his dog jerked in surprise as soon as he saw me, and I heard him blurt something (but didn’t catch what he actually said) just before I jumped away. Using a couple more houses to jump off of, I brought myself around toward the enclosed back yard of the address in question. 

It was quiet back here too. Staying low and silent, I watched the windows of the house. Nothing. The backdoor was closed, and there was no sign of anyone inside. I couldn’t hear the dog in the front yard. From what I’d seen when watching this place, the animal was stuck there and couldn’t get around to the back where I was. Hopefully, they wouldn’t smell or hear me and start barking their head off. That would be a good way to end up spoiling the fact that I was here. 

Just like I had from the roof of the other building, I remained still instead of rushing in. Watching the back of the house as patiently as possible given the situation turned out to be the right choice, because after a minute or two, I spotted the camera in the top left corner of the back patio. It was aimed inward, watching the door and windows. Then I spotted another one, aimed out toward the yard. Somehow, I’d managed to put myself far enough into the corner that I was pretty sure it didn’t see me. The way the camera was pointed, it had to take in most of the yard. 

Then I saw another camera. That one was at the corner of the house, pointed up through the space leading to the front yard. And sure enough, there was a fourth one at the other end. 

Right, I didn’t know much about Robert or whoever actually lived here. But I was pretty sure they were just a bit paranoid. Whether that was for good reason or not remained to be seen, though the fact that people had attacked Eits like that trying to get this address made it likely.

Okay, so what now? I needed to get in the house. Or at least talk to the person in there. But could I do that without the whole situation turning into a massive clusterfuck? Should I try to sneak in and check things out, or knock on the door? Should I stand in front of the camera? How would the person or people inside (if anyone was home right now) react if I just showed myself like that and asked to talk? And if they did talk, what would I even say to them? 

That was something I unfortunately hadn’t considered too much. What was I supposed to say had led me here? Could I just say that I’d been looking into Paige Banners, which led me to this Anthony Tate kid, and then to the only survivor of that car accident down in Texas? 

I was frozen like that for the moment, trying to decide what I should actually do. I couldn’t tell the whole truth, that was for damn sure. I also couldn’t let on that I knew… well, anything about this ‘Ministry’ thing. Or at least, not very much. Because if that got back to my family, it was bound to make things a hell of a lot more complicated for me than they already were. 

I had to be subtle, but breaking into this place felt like a good way to make things worse. So, for a moment, I couldn’t pick the best plan. Show myself and ask to talk, or maybe see if I could sneak up and peek in a window without being seen by any of the cameras? 

Fuck it, enough with this sitting around and hesitating. I needed to do something. Maybe it was just because of how helpless, stupid, and guilty I felt about letting Eits get hurt, but I couldn’t be patient. I was going to get some fucking answers. I was about to get up and walk right to the back door to knock on it, when something else caught my eye. That garage was nearby, and the side door was open a few inches to reveal darkness beyond. 

Okay, it was a longshot that there’d be anything interesting in there. But at least it was something. Checking the cameras once more to make sure there was space, I carefully inched my way along the fence until I could make a quick run to the garage, slipping in through the open door.

The place was pretty dark inside, but I could make out a car with the light that was coming in through the dirty windows on the main door at the front. There was a tarp over it, and I only hesitated for a moment before stepping over, reaching out, and pulling the tarp away.

Hey, I knew this car. It was a dark sedan, which didn’t really narrow it down, of course. But I recognized the little plastic coconut and pineapple hanging from the mirror. I’d given those to Robert when I was a little kid, right? I sort-of remembered giving them to him after I won them in some school carnival thing, on the way home. 

This was Robert’s car. Or–well, it was the car he’d driven me around in. I’d thought that would’ve belonged to my parents, but maybe they let him keep it? I wasn’t sure. Either way, this was definitely the car. I wasn’t sure how I was that positive, but I was. This was the car I’d been driven from home to school and back again in for years. 

Lost in my own memories, which were somehow simultaneously vague and specific, I tried the driver’s side door. It opened with a click, making the dome light pop on. I stepped inside, sitting down in the driver’s seat before letting out a low breath. This… Turning my head, I looked in the rearview mirror. 

Through my own memories, I saw Robert’s eyes in the mirror from my normal place in the back seat. I saw myself as a kid, chattering away at the man as he drove me home from school. My backpack was lying beside me with a bunch of books scattered over the seat. I was telling Robert all about the story in one of the books, before excitedly asking if we could stop and pick up–

Ugggnnnnn…. My head hurt. God, where did that come from? One second I was fine, then there was this weird headache that made me double over so much I literally bounced my helmet off the steering wheel. Damn it, oww. What the hell? 

Speaking of the steering wheel, why was I holding onto it so tight? God, ow, I was hurting my own hands from the force of my grip on it. What was wrong with me? Was sitting in this car just bringing up some kind of… memories… My lost memories. That had to be it. Something about being in this car was reminding my subconscious of something, and my body was reacting. 

Shaking it off as much as I could, I reached over to open the glovebox. It popped down, and I found the usual. Gloves, a pair of sunglasses, a couple maintenance and owners manual books, an incredibly old thing of Tic Tacs… nothing useful. Except, as I moved all that out of the way, there was something stuck inside the owner’s manual that fell out and landed on the passenger seat. It was a photograph, which landed facedown. Curious (and basically desperate for something useful), I picked up the photo and turned it over. 

It was me. That was the first thing I realized. There were two people in the picture. One was me, at about age… nine or ten, was my guess. The picture had been taken at the very same zoo that I’d passed on the way here. It was right outside the monkey cage. 

My face, and the realization of where the picture had been taken, were the first things to hit me. Then I saw the rest of it. I was… behind someone else, my chin on the other person’s shoulder while my arms were thrown around him. I was grinning, smiling from ear to ear while basically hanging off the other person. The other…

Boy. It was a boy about the same age as I was in the picture. He had light brown hair, a slight spattering of freckles across his face, brown eyes, and crooked teeth. He was going to have to get braces soon, which he was scared about because he thought–

Uggggghnnn! Dropping the photo, I doubled over once more. Owww, oww! Damn it, my head! What was wrong with my head? Were… were my lost memories about that boy? Is that why seeing his picture made my head hurt so much? Anthony. That kid had to be Anthony, right? That was the only thing that made sense. And he’d been my friend. That was… that had to be it. He was my friend. He had to be, just from looking at that picture. I knew Anthony Tate. Or had known him, before he died. 

I knew the boy well enough for him to be a friend that I was basically hanging off of at the zoo. Robert had a picture of the two of us stuck in the glovebox of his car in this garage. I kept getting a headache every time I focused on him. Yeah, this was my lost memories, the ones my mom had talked about. 

What did my parents do to Anthony? That had to be it, right? It had to be. They did something… something to that boy, and I found out about it. Then they erased my memory so I wouldn’t freak out on them. 

Even as I sat there, thinking about all that, I found myself getting more upset, more angry, at the whole situation. Before I really understood or even thought about what I was doing, the door was open and I was climbing out of the car. My hand grabbed the photo, shoving it safely into one of my pockets before zipping it shut. 

Then I was leaving the garage. Answers. Whatever it took, I was going to get some fucking answers right fucking now. To that end, I was going to walk right up to that back door, knock on it, and find out what Robert knew, about Anthony, about Paige, about the guys who attacked Eits, all of it. I was getting answers, now

At least, that was the plan. But no sooner had I taken a couple steps out into the yard, than a sudden, sharp whistle caught my attention. The whistle was followed by what felt like a bee sting. I gasped, jerking backward just in time to see a dark red dart of some kind sticking out of my arm. It was… it felt…

My vision swam. Stumbling a bit, I fell to one knee, struggling to stay upright. It was a struggle I lost, falling onto my side. Everything was going blurry, as a figure started walking toward me. They were talking. “You know, going through that kid’s phone to find this address was a real bitch. But it has totally paid off.” 

The figure stopped right in front of me, so blurry I could barely focus on them. My vision was fading in and out. Black spots kept appearing, as the person continued while crouching down in front of me, dart gun held loosely in one hand. “After all, I thought I was just going to deal with one long-time pain in the ass.” 

The barrel of the dart gun was playfully tapped against the visor of my helmet, as I finally managed to focus on the person who was talking.

“But it turns out, it’s my lucky day. I get to play with you too,” Pencil finished, in the last brief moment before my vision went completely black. 

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Alliances 6-08 (Summus Proelium)

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Please note, if you read Heretical Edge, there was a special commissioned chapter posted yesterday. If you have not seen that and would like to, go ahead and click right here

A riddle almost killed me. And, ironically, a riddle also saved me. Or rather, Riddles. 

Yeah, the lizard-bird came flying out of nowhere, slamming right into Cup’s face and clawing at her with a deafening screech. The impact knocked backwards, throwing off her aim just enough so that the bullet, as she pulled the trigger, went flying a few inches to the right of my head. It passed through the wall, leaving a neat hole there. Which was a hell of a lot better than the neat hole it would’ve left in my head. 

Even then, it took a couple seconds for the question she’d asked to stop commanding all of my attention. I finally physically jerked as my mind came back to the actual situation in time to see Riddles beating her wings against Cup’s face just as her beak bit down hard on the girl’s hand, drawing a shriek of surprise and pain from her. 

Realizing just how close I’d come to death in that instant, I almost fell to my knees and sobbed. Actually, pretty much the only thing that stopped me from doing just that (and probably curling up into a ball for awhile) was the sight of Cup’s other hand reaching up to grab the lizard-bird by the neck. Quickly, I shot a bit of red paint out to Riddles’ back, yanking her to my raised arm, where she clung tightly. “Hey buddy,” I started while taking two steps forward, painting my arm purple.”Thanks for the–” My fist lashed out, punching Cup in the face while she was still recovering. “–assist!” 

It may have looked like cloth, but that mask around the bottom half of Cup’s face had to be armored in some way, because it didn’t give nearly as much as it should have considering the force I was punching her with. It felt like kicking a pretty solid wall. Which made sense, considering how many people probably tried shooting her in the face for everything she was responsible for. Still, she was knocked to the floor with a new cry of pain, and I saw blood. Two bits of blood, actually. One from her nose and another on her hand where Riddles bit her. Even better, the gun went sliding across the floor away from her, ending up under a pile of overturned chairs. 

On the far side of the room, I could see Pack and the rest of her menagerie (apart from Holiday, who was still upstairs) busy trying to deal with Box and the remaining Scion troops who weren’t already down. Pack was favoring one arm, holding it cradled to her side while directing Mars Bar and Twinkletoes, who were doing the majority of the damage. Tuesday kept popping in from the sides to hit the troops while they were trying to focus on the obvious threats. Even as I glanced that way, I could see him rip a good chunk of flesh out of one man’s arm with his teeth, sending him to the ground with a scream of agony. Good. He tried to blow up sick little kids. 

Cup had scrambled up to her knees by then, and was starting to say something. She was cut off, however, as my quick shot of black paint hit the psycho bitch right in her chest, instantly muting any sound. “Yeah,” I snapped, “I think I’ve heard just about enough out of you, thanks.” 

Then there was a new problem. The gun that Cup had been holding was gone, yes. It was still somewhere under that pile of chairs. Unfortunately, as it turned out, that wasn’t the only gun she was carrying. I know, right? Psycho evil cult supervillains, who expects them to carry two guns? 

Yeah, I might still need some experience with this. Either way, she produced that second gun. And while she couldn’t actually talk, her eyes, burning with hatred as she brought it into line with me, screamed everything that needed to be said. She was going to kill me, and enjoy doing it. 

Or, well, try. Because even as she pulled that trigger, I had already activated the orange circles along the sides of my torso that I’d put there before we came in this room. The first bullet simply bounced off my chest. It stung pretty bad, and would definitely leave a bit of a welt. But that was all. The subsequent two shots that she fired off quickly also stung, drawing a gasp from me. Then I was there, painting my arm purple once more as I tore the pistol from her grip. My other hand caught hold of her arm, and jerked her up and over. With a grunt, I deliberately twisted that arm until I felt something break. Just like when I’d kicked her mask, it took a lot more force than it should’ve. Her costume was definitely armored. But not enough to stop me from snapping at least something, before I threw her face-first into the nearby wall. She collided hard with it and fell, sprawling out on the floor where she lay still, visibly breathing but not doing much else. 

Just to be on the safe side, I shot another bit of black paint to keep her silent. Gliding over my head, Riddles made a screeching noise at her fallen form.

By the time it was clear that she was staying down, I was already spinning to run and help Pack. Unfortunately, as I did so, my feet went out from under me, and I ended up sprawling across the ground with a yelp. 

“Hey, asshole,” a new voice snapped, and I looked that way from my fallen position to see another figure approaching. He wore a parody of a superhero costume. It was basically red footie pajamas (which was a real bold fashion choice) with a white, hand-drawn image of a tiny fish on the chest. A blue blanket of some kind was attached to the shoulders like a child’s idea of a cape, and he wore a simple black domino mask over his face. His hair was red and spiky. 

This was Anchovy. And as absurd as he looked, his power, as I understood it, was still a pain in the ass. Despite making himself look like some goofy, toddler parody of a hero like Superman, his gift wasn’t exactly superstrength and flight. No, he ruined things. Or actions. Basically, if he focused on a person, things they did tended to go wrong. They might choke on a bit of food they were eating, sprain their ankle kicking someone, accidentally jerk the wheel when driving and run someone over, or whatever. The list went on. The point was, he focused on someone and actions they took had negative results. Meanwhile, physical objects he focused on would fall apart or break or whatever. Guns jammed, walls simply crumbled as if they were much older than they were, computers broke down, so on and so forth. He focused on people or items and bad things happened. Such as me falling flat on my face just from turning around. Jackass.

“Boss is gonna be pretty pissed with you for hurting Cup,” Anchovy informed me while taking a pistol of his own from the belt around his one-piece pajamas (Fuck, how could I take him seriously like that, even with a gun? This wasn’t fair.), which he pointed my way. “But when I tell him I put a bullet in your brain, maybe he’ll get over it.” 

Quickly throwing myself to the side, I snapped my hand up to shoot a wad of red paint that hit his gun. Unfortunately, his power must’ve kicked in then, because when I yanked the gun away from him, it missed my hand entirely and smacked me right in the visor of my helmet. At least it didn’t hit my face, thanks to said helmet, but I was still very briefly stunned, jerking backward reflexively. Which was enough time for Anchovy to cross the distance between us and tackle me. I landed hard on my back with the man on me. He’d produced a knife from somewhere, which he was trying to shove into my ribs while holding me down with his other hand. 

But Riddles was there, diving in to grab the knife out of the man’s grasp before he could shiv me (was it still called shiving even with a normal knife?) and carrying it away with a hard flap of her wings. Of course, that brought Anchovy’s attention to her, and the lizard-bird abruptly flew straight into an overturned chair before falling to the floor. Which left Anchovy free to produce a second knife, preparing to shove it as deep into my gut as he wanted. 

I, however, didn’t really like that plan. At all. And he’d taken his focus off me for that brief moment, so I used it by painting my legs purple and kicking out hard. The guy was sent into the air and backward to slam high up into the wall with a loud blurted curse. As he started to fall, I hit him in the face with a wad of white paint, triggering it instantly to leave him blinded just before he hit the floor hard enough to make him yelp. 

Hoping that not being able to see me would mean he couldn’t use his power on me, I lunged that way. Throwing myself onto the man, I used refreshed purple paint to rip the blanket-cape from his shoulders, then tore it half before wrapping the first bit tightly around his head while he was still recovering. He cursed and spat at me, but I managed to shove the man over onto his stomach, using the other half of the cape to tie his hands behind his back. 

Okay, okay, he was down. He was secure, for the moment at least. Jerking myself up from him, I stumbled a little in my rush. Gaze snapping over toward Cup just in case, I found her still lying motionless. Totally out of it and in no position to fight, thank God. 

Right, Cup was down. Anchovy was down. Box… my gaze snapped that way in time to see the man himself lying very still on the floor. Twinkletoes had his arms held out above his head, while Mars Bar was crouched over him, mouth open to growl very dangerously directly into his face, those enormous teeth like rows of daggers. Yeah, the guy wasn’t interested in moving. 

Correction, he was very interested in moving. He just wasn’t stupid enough to try it.

The rest of the thugs seemed to be down for the count too, or just staying very still to avoid attracting attention. Looking around the room, I didn’t see any more threats. They were down. They were done. We… we actually pulled it off. Holy shit, we actually pulled it off! 

“Riddles, watch these guys,” Pack ordered her bird-lizard, who had recovered by then. “If anyone tries to move, rip their eyes out with your beak.” She waited for a confirming squawk before turning to me, panting heavily. Her shotgun lay nearby, bent at an angle that told me she’d used it to hit something pretty hard. “This hero shit is for the birds,” she informed me, still cradling her arm with a wince. “Fuck.” 

Before I could say anything to that, That-A-Way came through the door. “Aww, and here I was hoping you’d enjoy this so much that you’d switch sides. Cooome on, being celebrated and cheered instead of hated and run from is a lot more fun.” She came up, glancing around the room while adding, “Plus there’s the whole ‘not being arrested’ perk. Here.” With that, the girl tossed a couple pairs of stay-down cuffs to me. “Let’s make sure the Touched assholes don’t get ideas.’ 

Catching the cuffs, I moved to where Cup was still laying sprawled out. “Cover me?” I asked Pack. “Pretty sure she can only affect one person at a time with that power of hers.” 

She came, producing a small pistol in place of that broken shotgun with her uninjured hand. Tuesday came with, growling low and baring his teeth. As we neared the fallen woman, she shifted a bit, then yelped out loud as the monkey-lizard literally jumped on her back. 

“Yeah,” I muttered, “that’s what I thought, faker.” Reaching down, I quickly cuffed the woman, making sure they were tight. “We should probably gag her or something, just in case.” 

“Let’s go with ‘or something’, Pack announced. “Tuesday, if she makes a peep, punch her in the back of the head until she stops moving. Riddles, if she says anything to Tuesday, rip her throat out.” To me, she added, “Her power’s good at distracting, but shit at doing actual damage.” 

From the way Cup lifted her head and glowered at that, she wasn’t happy with the assessment. Too bad. I looked away from her in time to see That-A-Way finish cuffing Box while Mars Bar and Twinkletoes reluctantly moved out of the way. Anchovy was still bound and blinded by his own blanket cape. 

“Wow, I… I think we actually pulled it off,” I murmured incredulously, looking around the room one more time. “What about the hostages?” 

“Safe and sound,” That-A-Way replied easily. Her mouth opened to say something else, but she was interrupted. 

“Oooh, what kinda sound?” The voice came from the nearby doorway, and we all spun that way to find a figure coming into view. A figure who wore a tweed suit and a sackcloth mask with a long blond wig attached to it. 

“Was it sorta like… ‘garrggggnnnlllurggull?’” Pencil asked. “Cuz that’s basically the sound they were making a few seconds ago when I left ‘em. It was pretty hilarious.” 

Wait… Oh no. Oh no, no, no…

“Wha-what?” That-A-Way blurted, her eyes widening as she snapped her taser up to point at him. “No, we… I… I left them somewhere safe.” 

There was a brief inhale from the masked psychopath as he rocked his head back and forth as though debating before shaking it. “Yeeeeeah, not so much, Cupcake. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I didn’t kill the kids because… well, nature’s already doing that for me and how am I supposed to compete with something that makes ‘em that miserable for so long and then kills ‘em anyway? Actually, that’s a bad question, I could totally do it better, but I was in a bit of a hurry. And that whole hurrying thing is why I didn’t kill all of the adults. Just cut a throat or two, disemboweled a couple more, and basically left the survivors up to their ears in blood, entrails, and psychological trauma. Oh, and the fact that I got to do that right after you told them they were safe and then left? That was probably my favorite part. Thank you for that, really. I’ll send you a fruit basket or so–” 

In mid-sentence, he was suddenly interrupted as That-A-Way appeared beside him, shoving the taser in his stomach with a scream while lashing out with her other hand to punch him. At the same time, Pack snapped that pistol of hers up and fired off several shots, and Mars Bar hurled himself that way with a roar. 

The taser did nothing. Nor did the punch. Or the bullets from the gun. Even as I was telling myself to move, trying to lunge in to help, Pencil snatched the taser from the other girl while driving his knee into her stomach. She doubled over, and he pivoted, catching hold of her neck to throw her into the incoming Mars Bar, who plowed into the girl while struggling to slow himself. That-A-Way hit the ground and rolled with a cry of pain. Mars, meanwhile, was suddenly hit with some kind of green cloud that exploded in his face. The big bear roared in agony and dove to the floor, rubbing his snout on the tile to get whatever it was off. 

Still pivoting to come all the way back around, Pencil threw that taser at Pack. It hit her with a sharp, visible jolt of electricity, and she hit the floor as well. 

Covering my legs with green paint for speed, I threw a puddle of blue at the floor by Pencil’s feet just as he focused on me. It launched him upward, and I had the satisfaction of hearing a surprised yelp from the man. Then I hit him with red paint while he was still flailing in the air, while also hitting the furthest wall with the same color. Activating both sent him flying across the room to slam hard into that wall. 

It did nothing. He fell to the floor, and that seemed to do nothing as well, of course. Nor was he actually hurt when the invisible Twinkletoes yanked him off the ground and spun to slam him into that same wall again

Nothing hurt him. Nothing. We could do this all day and it wouldn’t matter. But trap him? Contain him? Maybe we could do that.

“Hold him!” I blurted at Twinkletoes while scrambling that way. I still had one of those sets of cuffs. “Just hold onto him!” 

The gorilla-lizard tried. He really did. But Pencil managed to get a hand into his pocket, throwing some kind of pellet up and back. It exploded in the animal’s face, creating a another small cloud of green smoke similar to the one that had hit Mars Bar. This one that left Twinkletoes staggering and moaning in pain, releasing the man. 

I was there, painting my arms purple for strength as I tried to grab onto him. I couldn’t hurt him, but I could hold him long enough to cuff him. 

Or not. He smoothly evaded as I tried to grab him. Worse, he laughed at me. Spinning on one heel like we were dancing as I lunged that way, he also ducked under the shot of red paint I sent at his face. The next thing I knew, his hand was on my shoulder, his foot hit my ankle, and the floor came rushing up to smack me in the visor. 

“Probably a good idea to wear a helmet in this line of work,” he commended. Before I could move, his foot came down on my wrist, pushing against it enough to send a sharp shock of pain all the way up my arm, making it really hard to focus on anything else. “Too bad y–” 

It had taken me a second, but I managed to concentrate enough to paint my wrist blue. Pencil was launched away from me, and I quickly rolled over on my back as he came down by a pile of chairs. My arm (the one that wasn’t currently throbbing) snapped up to shoot red at him, but he threw one of those chairs in the way, making it catch that instead. 

“Hey, Dingaling!” a female voice blurted, and my gaze reflexively snapped that way in time to see Cup, standing up and no longer cuffed (how the hell had she managed that?!) as she called, “Is a dragonfly a dragon to a fly or a fly to a dragon?” 

Is… wait, no hold on. I was fine, I could totally answer this. I could. This was easy. It was a dragon that… hold on. Wait…

In the background, I vaguely noticed Cup and Pencil both heading for the exit. Fork had gotten back to his feet to join them, but they’d had to leave Box and Anchovy behind. Still, they wouldn’t get away. I could catch up. I just had to finish this question. It was…

“Paintball!” A hand smacked me across the helmet, as Pack popped up into my field of view. “What are you doing?! What–are you–” 

Snapping out of it, I waved both hands frantically, ignoring the burst of pain. “Stop them, stop them!” 

That-A-Way was already back on her feet, and we, along with the lizard-beasts (Twinkletoes and Mars Bar had recovered) went running after the pair. We crashed through the exit of the hospital and out onto the front walkway to find… nothing. They were gone. 

“Yooo hooo!” 

Or not. We spun, stumbling a bit in our rush before looking up toward the roof of a low, one-story building at the edge of the lot straight ahead. Pencil, Fork, and Cup were there, the first waving a cell phone in one hand. 

“You know, fucking with my bomb upstairs was really rude!” Pencil called down. “Made it so much weaker than it should’ve been. Now I can’t knock the whole building down and teach those kids about the fleeting futility of life. Though I did get to slit their doctors’ throats right in front of them, so maybe they’ll work it out on their own!” 

“Teleport?” I quickly asked That-A-Way. 

Her head shook, voice cracking a bit. “They’re south of us, I… I can be intangible at him, but… but…” 

Reaching out to grab her arm so I could launch at least the two of us that way, if not Pack and her animals, I stopped abruptly as Pencil held that phone up. 

“Oh well,” he announced, “if I can’t take down a whole hospital, at least I can take out one floor.” 

“No!” That-A-Way shouted, suddenly disappearing from my side just as Pencil hit the button on his phone. There was a second delay, before…

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

With a terrifying, deafening crash that blew out all the windows of the floor high above, the bomb went off. The force of it set off dozens of car alarms, and shards of glass and other debris rained down on us from above. I caught a brief glimpse of the Scions disappearing from the roof, while Pack and I both staggered, along with her animals. 

Her animals, that was, except for…

“Holiday!!!” Pack screamed in horror and panic, her head tilted back to stare up at the burning, totally destroyed hospital floor in shock and horror. The flames were spreading rapidly. Maybe the rest of the hospital could be saved if the firefighters got there quick enough, but anything on that floor would have been completely annihilated by the blast. 

Screaming Holiday’s name again, Pack went to run back into the hospital. Quickly, I grabbed her wrist. She spun, screaming in my face about getting the hell away from her while lashing out with a kick that took me in the stomach. I staggered, and she shoved me away from her before spinning back that way, intent on running into the hospital. 

Then she stopped, as two figures emerged from the smoke. One human and one very much not. 

“Hey,” That-A-Way managed after coughing a few times. Her hand came down on Holiday’s head. “Sorry, managed to teleport up and then out with her, but we had to walk back. You guys o–” 

She was stopped then, as Pack threw herself that way. “Thank you!” the girl blurted, embracing That-A-Way tightly while basically outright sobbing. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. You saved her. You saved Holiday. Thank you. Thank you.” She just kept repeating that, clearly openly crying before releasing the Minority girl so she could fall to her knees and hug Holiday just as tightly. If anything, she was crying even more. 

Sirens. I looked to the street and saw fire trucks, police cars, SWAT vans, ambulances, and more. They were all screaming their way up to both the hotel and this hospital. There were Touched flying around in the air above, and appearing on the streets. 

“Go,” That-A-Way snapped quickly toward Pack. “Get your animals and go, before you get arrested in all of this.” Then she looked to me, voice cracking. “H-he really did it. He killed four of the people I left with those kids. T-two doctors, a n-nurse, and an orderly. I don’t… I don’t know what–I was trying to… I… I…” 

“I’m sorry,” I managed weakly, knowing it was inadequate. Pathetically so. What was I supposed to say? What could I say? People were dead. We hadn’t saved all of them, not from that… that piece of shit. It wasn’t our fault. It was his. Pencil’s. That psycho fuck. He killed them, just because he couldn’t stand to let us save all of them. He killed them for no reason. Murdered them just… just to murder them. Just to make sure we didn’t save everyone. 

“Hey.” Pack spoke instead, standing there surrounded by her animals even as the fire trucks reached the edge of the hospital lot. “I… I’m sorry about what happened to those guys. But don’t umm… don’t blame yourself.” She sniffed, hand clutching Holiday’s neck. “You got them out, you got those kids out, and a lot more of ‘em would’ve died if you hadn’t done that. You… did the right thing. You did the best you could.” 

It looked like she wanted to say something more, just from the girl’s body language. But in the end, she turned and fled with her lizard-creatures, while the fire fighters were approaching with their hoses. 

“I–I’m going back to the kids,” That-A-Way stammered. “There’s people there with them already, but… but I… I have to…” She shook her head then, looking to me. “Are you…”

“I’m fine,” I replied. “I’m good, but do you want some he–” 

She was gone, teleporting away. Which left me standing there on the front grass of the hospital while firefighters raced past me to focus on the flames burning high above, trying to stop them from spreading. I saw a small figure in a blue bodysuit with silver panels floating above them. Raindrop, the youngest of the Minority. She was sending water through the shattered windows as well, clearly directing it through the building to the worst of the fire. Even as I watched for those few seconds, she had doused most of the flames almost by herself, directing thousands of gallons of water through the place with just a wave of her hand. 

Good. Good. They had this handled. And with Pencil gone, the situation back over at the hotel was definitely under control. Things were–

Wait. Oh. Oh shit. Things were under control. The hostage situation was over. 

My family would be looking for me.

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Alliances 6-04 (Summus Proelium)

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Oh boy, was this whole Reformation Ball thing a big deal. I’d always known that, of course. Even from the time that I was a little kid, I’d known the Ball was basically one of the most important events of the year in Detroit. But somehow, actually being there instead of sitting at home while my parents were out for the evening made it so much more obvious just how huge and important the whole thing was. I’d known it was a big deal before. But now I really knew. 

The location for the event bounced around a little from year to year, as each of the three biggest and most amazing hotels in the city took turns hosting it. This year, it was being held at the Cloud Regal, a twenty-five story hotel that was shaped like the letter C. In the middle of the curve was the main grounds of the hotel, an elaborate garden area with twin fountains on either side of the main path. The water from the fountains shot high into the air in a complicated series of patterns that included shooting back and forth to one another in an arch-shape over the path. 

There were technically three separate parties. The biggest one was out on those grounds, where tables of food and drink had been set up, along with a stage for a live band and other entertainers. There was an entrance fee, but it was minimal. To buy a ticket cost about twenty dollars, which got you into the grounds, allowed you to see the entertainment, and provided access to all the food and most drinks, though the higher shelf stuff was still charged for. 

The next step over being on the grounds was being inside one of the three separate banquet rooms within the hotel. It was apparently a few hundred per seat to be in there, which got you much better quality food (not that the food outside wasn’t great, but the more rare and expensive stuff was inside), and even more entertainment. It was a quieter dinner there, while outside was slightly more of a rambunctious, energetic party. 

Then there was the roof party. All the way at the top of the twenty-five story hotel was the roof garden where the true power in the city held their own dinner. The mayor, the chief of police, the governor of Michigan, the leadership of various hero organizations, business owners, community organizers, everyone who could afford a ticket or was sponsored by someone who could. Being on the roof required a minimum five thousand dollars per head. 

That was the general cost of each area. Twenty bucks to be outside, a couple hundred to be inside, five thousand to be on the roof. And every single ticket had been sold weeks ago. As happened every year, the event was completely sold out. And as always, one hundred percent of the proceeds from tonight would go to a charity. It was a different one each time. This year, all the money would go to the Gold Horizons Children’s Hospital located just across the street from the hotel. Apparently the guy who owned this hotel had built the hospital because of his own son passing away from cancer, and when some rich guy tried to have the hospital closed down because it made him feel bad, the owner had had him banned not only from this place, but from every hotel, resort, and business he owned. Which, apparently, was a lot. 

My family, of course, was on the roof. I was there, in my ungodly expensive and beautiful dress that made me feel like a mutt that had crawled into Cinderella’s gown and run off with it. The thing was so amazing and beautiful, all teal and shiny and… and… I was just… not… that. I wasn’t right for it. This dress belonged on a tall, beautiful blonde prom queen, not on a little tomboy who barely topped five feet, with black hair that just would not stay tamed and was long on one side but short on the other. 

My mother’s hand gently brushed my shoulder, and I turned a bit to see her smiling down at me. Her voice was soft against the light sound of quiet music in the background. “You are radiant this evening, my beautiful Principessa. Thank you for coming, I’m certain you could have found any number of other things to do. But having you here makes me so very proud.” 

I was still trying to work out how to respond to that, when her hand very gently brushed my face. Apparently she could still see dark circles there. “Are you alright? You look so tired.” 

Well, Mom, I haven’t been sleeping very well lately. First I found out that you and Dad are running some massive evil supervillain conspiracy. Then I became basically responsible for making sure an innocent little girl doesn’t die or the city itself doesn’t descend into war. And on top of all that, I was just recently knocked unconscious and abducted by a two-faced monster who really, really wants to torture me. Did I forget anything? Oh, right, and I owe a favor to that two-faced monster’s boss for letting me get out of there with my blood still inside my body. 

Forcing a smile, I shook my head. “I’m okay, Mom. It’s just been a long day. Thanks for letting me come tonight. This is…” My eyes glanced around the roof, at all the beautiful candles that lit various pathways through the glass sculptures, the rich and beautiful chatting amicably, and the ungodly famous musician with his funny glasses playing his Candle in the Wind song on the piano. “This is really great.” I looked back to her then. “And kind of crazy.” 

Her beautiful smile returned, and she gently touched two fingers to her lips before brushing my cheek with them. “You get used to it,” she murmured softly before glancing over my shoulder. “I have to speak to Grant for a minute. Enjoy yourself, my beautiful girl. Make yourself known here, let people see you. I will make sure Simon or someone else is available to take you home in an hour or so if you’re ready to leave then. There is no need for you to stay for the whole evening.”

Promising to mingle, I watched my mother head over to chat with ‘Grant’. Also known as one of Michigan’s senators. They started talking, and I heard Mom ask him about his son’s football scholarship. It made me shake my head, turning away. How weird was it to be a part of all this? Because I’d grown up with it, so I didn’t really have the right perspective. Even then, however, this felt pretty weird. I stepped away from the spot where I’d been talking to my mother, carefully making my way through the crowd. Here and there, I smiled to someone who recognized me (there weren’t that many), greeting them and exchanging a few words. One of the passing waitresses handed me a wine glass with ginger ale in it, which I took a sip from while standing at the edge of the roof to look down at the main party. It was in full swing, and looked like they were having a lot of fun. There was an open space on the grass where people were dancing.   

The sound of someone clearing their throat made me glance back to see Tomas standing there. He gave me a smile that made my stomach start a boxing match with my heart, before moving up beside me. His voice was casual. “Hey, Cassidy. Ahh, how are you doing?” 

I swallowed a bit. The past week had been complicated. I hadn’t avoided Tomas at all. We hung out a few times, even got lunch together once. But it was just… so… yeah, complicated. I felt like even more of an idiot every time I thought about how him being bisexual had made me feel. 

I knew he cared about me. I knew he liked me. This changed nothing. He liked me for being me, regardless of whether I was a boy or a girl. That was a good thing, right? Yes. Yes, it was. It was indisputably a good thing. Logically, I knew that. I told myself that. I even thought I’d convinced myself of it multiple times. Yet, every time I saw him, my brain whispered things like, ‘Are you sure he doesn’t just like you because you look like a cute little boy?’

Feelings were annoying, why did they have to be so complicated? I should just be able to tell my heart something and make it accept the plain stupid truth. Stupid emotions. Stupid, stupid emotions.

Quickly, I forced myself to reply dryly, “Oh, you know. Just another day.” Biting my lip, I looked at him. “I didn’t know you’d be here.” Pausing, I added, “But I really should’ve.” 

He chuckled lightly, waving vaguely over his shoulder. “Yeah, Mum and Dad are over there somewhere. I’m supposed to be here, look presentable, and not embarrass them.” 

“Sounds like we have similar jobs,” I replied. “You wanna share? Maybe it’ll be easier.”

He smiled again, and my heart did a little spin at the way it made his dimples show. “That sounds like a pretty good idea to me. We can look presentable together. My parents love you enough anyway. My dad kept asking if I talked to you yet. I think they want to have you over for dinner at some point.”

Oh. My… my ex’s parents wanted to have me over for dinner. That wasn’t as weird as it could be considering we’d only broken up because of distance, right? Wait, if he was back, did that mean that he expected… or that they expected… wait, was this—

Tomas’s hand found my arm, gently squeezing. “Hey, hey, it’s all right. None of us are dumb enough to think we’re just going to go right back to the way we were, okay? And if Dad or Mum think otherwise, they’ve got another thing coming. A year is a long time. I’m sure we’ve both changed a lot. I mean… you know about my… yeah. Maybe something else will come of it, maybe it won’t. But you’ve always been important, Cassidy. Whether we’re just friends or end up being more than that, I want to get to know you again. So, I’d love it if you came over for dinner at some point. No pressure, and if my parents start turning that on, I swear we’ll go get one of your American pizza concoctions.” 

Squinting at him, I pointed. “You can’t fool me anymore, buster. I know for a fact you guys have plenty of pizza over in the UK.”

Meeting my gaze, he gave a sage nod. “Of course, we just call it open stromboli. Or opomboli.”

He had me for just a second. I blinked, head tilting as I watched his expression. Then I frowned, punching him in the arm as subtly as possible, not wanting to cause a scene. “You do not, jerk.” 

He laughed, looking charming again before turning to look out at the people below once more. For a moment, he was quiet before speaking again. “I did miss you, Cassidy Evans. Even if you are not nearly as gullible as you were.” His gaze moved back to me with a wink. “You’ve changed too.” 

Swallowing back all the thoughts that brought up, I managed a shrug. “I guess that’s just a thing that happens. And I haven’t changed all that much.” Boy, if he only knew. “But I… umm…” Shaking off the feelings, I gestured. “We should probably go see about mingling a little bit more, huh? Pretty sure my parents–or my mom mostly, would prefer I be seen instead of hanging out in the background.” 

“We could dance, if you like,” he pointed out mildly, knowing full well that no one else was dancing. Not up here, anyway.

“I said ‘be seen’, not ‘make a complete ass of myself,’” I retorted before pulling him by the arm. “Come on, we’ll just walk and talk.” 

He obliged, and the two of us meandered our way through the crowd, making a couple circuits of the roof. We stopped now and then, chatting with various people. I tried to be as polite as possible, wanting, for some reason, to make a good impression for my supervillain parents. Weird. 

I also saw my dad twice. He was standing over with a few other rich guys, and Silversmith was right across the roof, talking to Flea and Caishen, leader of the Ten Towers corporate sponsored hero team. Other Star-Touched, including all the Minority members, were mingling with people too.  But I still had no idea how my parents were managing to make it look like Silversmith and my dad were both here. Maybe Dad had a body double? He could certainly afford one. 

In any case, it was eventually time for us to separate and rejoin our own families for dinner. I made my way over to the round table that had been set aside for us and found Simon and my parents already there. Dad took a moment to tell me how wonderful I looked, teasing me about being around Tomas again. Then he held Mom’s chair out, Simon held mine, and we sat down before they joined us. 

“Dad’s right, you actually look like you belong here, Booster,” my brother teased. “You haven’t tripped over anything or started talking about Power Rangers or Ninja Turtles yet.” 

Forcing myself to smile, I retorted, “Well, I didn’t want to take away your most educational topics, dear brother. That would be terrible. What on Earth would you talk about then?” 

Mom cleared her throat pointedly, but I could see her smothering a small smile as she looked to us. “Let’s be nice,” she murmured softly before looking up to thank the waiter who brought our drinks. Wine for the three of them and apple cider for me. Dad had said it would be okay if I had one glass with them, but that didn’t sound like a great idea to me, so I declined. Cider would be fine. 

We took our food a few minutes later, and watched as the mayor, followed by the governor, got up to give their speeches through the meal. ‘Grant’ the senator would be next, apparently. They would be going down to mingle with the other two party groups shortly, playing for future votes, of course. But first they would make nice with the rich people, like my parents. As part of that, Mayor Carter Bens would be accepting gifts on behalf of the city. It was another tradition born over the past couple decades, where the mayor would be given various presents of expensive things that would be put on display in City Hall for a few months before being donated and the proceeds given toward the city’s emergency services like police, fire, and hospitals. 

Once that started, Dad made a small noise in the back of his throat while looking to Mom. “You know, I think–” 

“We forgot our gift in the room,” she finished for him, sighing a little. She glanced around as though to flag down a waiter, but they were all busy. Finally looking to me, she added, “Cassidy, would you mind running—I mean… walking very carefully and discreetly… down to the suite we borrowed for the evening and picking up the gift. It should be in the living room beside the television.” 

I agreed quickly, taking the room key and heading to the elevator. From there, I headed for the penthouse suite that my parents had rented out to grab the gold-wrapped gift. 

Carefully managing the present with one hand, I went to open the door and began to step out when movement from the corner of my eye made me look that way. Men. There were men walking down the hall ahead of me, having just passed the room a few seconds earlier. Which wouldn’t really be a big deal, except for the assault rifles they held. Yeah. Guns. 

There were armed guards at this event, of course. To say nothing of all the Star-Touched hanging around. But the armed guards weren’t that obvious. They looked like Secret Service type people, not men in army camo carrying giant-ass automatic guns. 

No, this was obviously something different. Something bad. I quickly ducked back in the room and closed the door most of the way before they could spot me. Peeking out, I saw them heading for the elevator. They were met by a few more guys that were coming out of other rooms, and all of them headed up to the roof. 

Oh boy. Oh God, what was I supposed to do now? Quickly, I took my phone from my pocket, only to find it had no signal. That had to be purposeful, some kind of jammer or something. A check of the room phone produced no dial tone. Great. Just great. This was absolutely, definitely something bad. But what? What kind of crazy idiot would try to attack the place swarming with armed guards and heroes from every team in the city?

Maybe it was just a stunt or something. Maybe I was overreacting. But the lack of a cell signal and dial tone told me I wasn’t. I had to find out more, without getting caught. 

To that end, I headed for the closet where I had dropped my stuff when changing into my dress here. Digging deep in the backpack under the layer of other stuff I’d use to cover it, I came out with the bag that had my costume in it. I’d put it under some unmentionables, just in case. 

Taking a moment to slip the costume on after changing out of my dress, I made my way to the balcony, peeking out and around to make sure the coast was clear. Seeing nothing, I stepped out there before red painting myself up to the edge of the roof, clinging to the bottom edge of the  balcony as I listened. 

A male voice was speaking. “I’d say let’s not have anyone playing hero, but I think that’s a moot point by now with the kind of company we’ve got up here tonight, don’t you?”

Painting myself black, I hesitantly peeked up over the edge. Everyone was seated aside from the man who was speaking, and a dozen or so of those camo-dressed men with guns. 

As for the guy who was talking, I knew who he was. The sackcloth mask gave it away. Pencil. It was Pencil. 

That answered my question about who would be crazy enough to attack this place, at least. Seeing him made me shrink back a bit under the edge of the roof while he continued. “But still, let’s be smart here. No one wants a massacre, after all.” He paused before amending, “Well, none of you want a massacre. Personally, I think we’re kind of due.”

Silversmith, or rather, whoever was posing as him, spoke up. “You can’t possibly think you’re going to get away with anything here. What’s your game?”

I could hear the smile in Pencil’s voice as he looked that way. “My game? I’m so glad you asked. The game, ladies and gentlemen, is very simple. Everyone here pretends they care oh so much about all the poor sick children in that hospital across the street that you’re all donating to tonight. But let’s see how much you actually care. See, they’re being visited by a bunch of my friends right now as we speak. And unless you rich motherfuckers start giving until it literally hurts, well, let’s just say there won’t be any more kids to donate to. Which, for the record, is also what will happen if anyone here tries anything. So let’s just keep it all in our pants. 

“As for how much we need, we’re trying to break records here tonight for most stolen in one event. And I hear there’s some stiff competition, so dig deep people. Or don’t. Personally, I’m kind of curious to see if you can hear a few hundred sick kids being mowed down by machine guns all the way up here. 

“Aren’t experiments fun?”

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