Authors: S.J. Delos
So Not a Hero (12 page)
I winked at him. “I guess suggesting jeans and a t-shirt with the team logo is out at this point? After all the trouble you just went through.” I nodded at the machine.
He smiled ever so slightly. “Well, first of all, I don’t think jeans and a t-shirt will withstand the punishment of being a superhero, do you? After all, you’ve already ruined two shirts in the past twenty-four hours.”
Now it was my turn to blush. “Not my fault, though.” I sighed and stepped closer. He might live in his lab, at least according to Alexis, but he certainly didn’t smell like it. There was a sandalwood scent around him and I could see that the stubble on his cheeks and chin from yesterday had been freshly removed. “So, what are my options?”
He tapped a few commands on the tablet and the little computerized version of me was instantly dressed in a white costume. The top had short sleeves, a deep V-neckline that showed a lot of cleavage, an exposed midriff, and a blood red Double-G across the chest. The bottom resembled a pair of bicycle shorts and a pair of knee-high boots finished the ensemble.
“Well?” Power Brain asked.
I studied the image. “Looks a little … skimpy. Maybe even trashy.” When I’d been running around as Crushette, I’d been covered from neck to toe. “Don’t you think?”
He laughed and began sliding his finger around on the tablet again, adding an occasional tap. "Consider yourself lucky,” he said. “The Captain originally wanted you in a
seifuku
. I guess because of your heritage or, at least, his narrow understanding of it.”
I blinked, shaking my head. “A sailor school uniform? Seriously?”
Daniel nodded. “Yeah. But I pointed out that the skirt and the blouse would be too loose to mimic your power. We’d keep having to replace them constantly.”
“Thank you for that.”
He smiled. “Then he suggested I create something along the lines of a leotard. Similar to Darla’s.”
I groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“However,” Daniel said as he held up one finger, “Greg diplomatically reminded him that you
can
juggle armored cars, so that suggestion was withdrawn as well.” He turned and looked at me. “So the final decision was left to me.”
“And this is what you came up with?” I pointed at the screen. “While I would have put a dent in your head if you’d followed through with the other two suggestions, that outfit isn’t much better.” I tapped my finger against my lips as I studied the twirling image. “Change the neckline so my boobs aren’t falling out,” I said. “Also, shorten the stripper boots to mid-calf and ditch the heel.”
Power Brain tapped a couple of times on the tablet with the stylus and the changes I wanted translated to my facsimile. “How’s that?”
I nodded. “Good. And the white/red has got to go. Those are Lava Wave’s colors. How about black and … yellow. The logo in yellow as well. Oh! I want matching gloves to go with it. That come up to here.” I tapped a spot on my forearm an inch past the wrist.
He arched a brow. “You’re invulnerable. Why do you need gloves?”
I shrugged. “There’s still the chance I could chip a nail on something.”
“On what? A nuke?” Daniel grinned and made the changes. “As you wish.” There was an amused lilt to his voice. Yeah, definitely something going on with him.
“Besides, gloves look really cool.”
He laughed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Another piece of equipment, one I recognized as a molecular re-arranger, hummed into life. “I’ll bring it upstairs when it’s ready. Since I’m making it out of a special polymer, it’ll take a little while. However, I promise it will be ready by two o’clock.” He saved the file and shut down the program before turning to me.
“What’s at two o’clock?” I asked. The time seemed ominously specific.
He gave me a sideways glance. “The press conference?”
“Daniel, what ‘press conference’?”
He turned red again and gave me a stressed smile. “Oh. I thought Greg had told you already.”
I shook my head. “He said to come see him after we were done, but he didn’t say what it was about.”
Power Brain nodded slowly. “There’s a press conference in the lobby to present you as the newest member of the team. That’s why Richard wanted your uniform done ASAP. The whole world is going to want to see the latest addition to the Good Guys.”
I couldn’t find the words to respond and my head felt swimmy and my stomach contracted and threatened to give back the coffee I’d ingested. Everyone was going to see me and my new career choice.
Including Martin.
I told Mister Manpower that if I was going to be subjected to media scrutiny, I was damned sure going to get some professional help with my appearance first. He wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of me running off with the press conference approaching, but I promised that I would be back in time and not run off to Borneo. Or someplace more remote. Like the moon.
Alexis had insisted that I pinky swear.
A heavy weight rolled around in my belly and seemed to increase with every step I took away from the tower. I’d not given much thought to the fact that the Good Guys would want to show their new team member to the world. But when I considered how divided my admittance had been within the team alone, I worried how the general public would respond. I mean, it would take a lot of understanding to accept one of Doctor Maniac’s associates suddenly being responsible for their safety.
Plus, there was the fact that I wasn’t entirely certain that Martin knew what I had done. After two o’clock, however, it wouldn’t be a question if he knew. It would be a question of how he would respond.
The salon had a window sign indicating that they specialized in Enhanced customers. I’d been a regular patron before my incarceration and, despite my lengthy absence, Roland only had to look at me for a second before he grabbed my hand and whisked me away to a room in the back. He pushed me into a plush, reinforced-titanium chair and flipped a switch on the side. Massage coils (with enough rolling pressure to crack ordinary bone) went to work on my back and shoulders. I’d be lying if I said the gratification wasn’t instant.
“Damn, Karen,” he said, shaking his frosted-tip dreadlocks. “You are a complete mess.” I opened my mouth and he put his finger against my lips. “Shush you. I’m going to pretend like you’ve been free for six months and haven’t come to see me only because you’ve been busy putting your life back together. And I’m not even going to start about how crazy you getting locked up made your man. Well, crazier, I mean.”
He spun the chair around and made it recline before tossing a bright yellow cover over me. “However, what I am gonna do is make you feel like a million dollars and look like movie star while you vent and angst and rage, just like old times.” He leaned down and looked me in the eye. “You get me?”
I nodded slightly. “I get you,” I said settling back further into the chair. “You always had a way of cutting right through the bullshit, you know?”
He snapped his fingers and waved them in the air. “Of course I know. That’s what makes me Roland the Great.” He winked and grabbed a padded stool from beside the worktable and sat down next to me. “So, Miss Ex-Crushette,” he said. “How may I make you happy?”
“Rewind the clock seven years and keep me from Activating?”
Roland laughed and adjusted a dial on the side of the chair, making the massage rollers pressure increase and a little happy sigh climb out of my mouth. “Even if I could do that,” he said, “I wouldn’t. Being what you are, all of it, is what makes you you.” He crossed his arms over his chest. I could see the bottom edge of an Airborne tat peeking from the sleeve of his shirt. “So, is this going to be a whine session? Because, honestly girl, I’d expected more.”
I drew in a breath, held it while I pushed my temper aside, and released it with a sigh. “No, no whining today. I need you to work a miracle on my hair. I’m starting a new job this afternoon.”
Both of his eyebrows slid up as he rolled the chair away from me to the workstation. “A new job? Does that mean that you’re standing by your promise to keep away from Martin?”
I nodded. “He’s the last person I want to deal with right now. Things between us are one hundred percent o-v-e-r.” At least, that was what I hoped.
Roland opened a metal kit and withdrew a pair of gleaming scissors with an edge that seemed to slice the ambient light into its component colors. Atomic Blades. Despite their name, the blades were devoid of any radiological properties. Instead, the monomolecular thick edge would cut through the sheath of invulnerability encasing each strand of hair as if it didn’t exist.
The invention of Atomic Blades was a godsend to Enhanced such as myself. Without them, my hair would be down past my ass and I didn’t want to imagine how my legs and armpits would look.
Roland rolled back to me and twirled the implement around one finger. “I hope you’re right. But when it comes to you, that man can’t see or think straight.” His hand opened and closed, grabbing the scissors in mid-twirl. “So, who’s the new boss? Shadow Lord? Or maybe Nite-Star?”
I grinned. “Nite’s currently hanging in the Max. Helped put him there myself.” I sighed and turned my gaze to the ceiling. “Actually, I’m going to be working the other side of the street.”
His mouth dropped open and, for a second, I realized that I had rendered Roland the Great speechless. Then he managed to recover and gave me a sly grin. “Hero, huh? The Good Guys?” When my smile widened a bit, he nodded. “Heard they were looking for a replacement for Gigantica. Sounds to me like they picked someone good.”
I closed my eyes. “We’ll see how good it turns out to be. Right now, I’m nervous as shit about it. Mainly because I hurt a lot of people as Crushette. Now I’m going to be asking them to trust me.”
He nodded. “And what do you need from me?”
“Magic, Roland.” I said with a grin. “I need your magic to make me look like a hero. That way, if I get booed or say something stupid, at least I’ll be pretty. You’re the only one I trust to do this.”
He leaned closer and lowered the chair a bit more. “Well then, you just lie back and think happy thoughts, darling. Because Roland is going to weave you a look that’s gonna scream ‘hero’.” His fingers slid through my hair and then pulled taut. I heard the sound of the twin blades as they closed around the hair and sliced clean through. “By the time I’m through, you’re going to look a whole new you. I promise.”
Roland went to work; snipping, combing, and occasionally taking a moment to study his progress. Meanwhile, I spilled everything. I told him about the tribulation of putting my life back together and the miserable failure that had been. I regaled him with the battle with Nite-Star and the offer by Mister Manpower. I confessed that I was worried that I’d gone too far into the dark to come back to the light. Through it all, he never stopped working.
When I ran out of things to complain about, he turned off the massage rollers and pulled the cover free. “Okay, you know how this works.” He said, leaning over me. “You come for a cut and style and get advice as a bonus. So, here it is; be the hero. You were never really comfortable with what you and the Doc were doing.” I opened my mouth and he held up his hand. “No, you weren’t,” he said and gave me a look to keep quiet and listen. “You were completely head over heels for the man, not his ideology or his schemes. The only, and I mean
only
, reason you did what you did was because of love.” He tapped my chest above my left breast. “You were never a villain here. Your decision to turn yourself in when you discovered your situation had changed only proves my point.” He rolled the chair away and stood up, lifting a lever on the side of my seat. “And now,” he said with a grin, “let’s see Charlotte’s newest hero.”
I looked from Roland to the mirror. When I’d gone into the Max, my red hair had been just past shoulder-length. Since my release, I’d not had the money, nor the time, to get it cut and it’d grown down to the middle of my back. Roland had taken most of it away, leaving me with a cute chin-length bob that curled underneath and framed my face perfectly.
I stared at the girl in the mirror. She looked older than the one I’d seen this morning in the bathroom. Not so much in age, as in maturity. She looked like someone who could be trusted to keep the citizens of the city, and its suburbs, safe. “I love it,” I said as I looked back to Roland.
He smiled and gave me a little clap. “I’m glad. I was worried that you might think it too short, but then I remembered that I’m a perfect genius when it comes to hair. Plus, this way it’ll be harder for anyone to grab it. Remember the time with Colonel Tank?”
I nodded and shuddered at the memory of having the brute use my ponytail as a handle to slam me repeatedly into the side of an armored car like a piñata stick. When he’d finally broken it open, he’d then used it to twirl me around and throw me several blocks away.
I turned left and right, admiring the way the ends swayed back and forth. I had to admit, I looked adorable. Grinning, I gave Roland a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Roland. For everything, but especially for your advice with … before.” I gave him a slight nod which he returned.
“That’s what friends are for,” he said.
I was riding high on my way back to the tower, a stark contrast to how I’d felt on my way to Roland’s. The uneasiness in my stomach had vanished, although it had been replaced by genuine hunger. I took a detour along the way with the intention of grabbing a bite at a new pita place that had recently opened downtown.
I heard a scream before the sound of something big breaking echoed down the street towards me. I stopped in mid-step and listened. A few seconds later, another loud crash sounded and more screams joined the first. There was trouble ahead and it didn’t sound like something that was going to blow over on its own.
Two days ago, I would have probably just walked in the other direction. Or, at the very least, swung by just out of idle curiosity. However, I was a hero now, or was supposed to be. It wouldn’t go over very well if I shirked my duty on my first real day. I sighed and broke into a non-powered jog up the street and around the corner.
There was a giant robot tearing into the front of City Hall.
I stopped running and looked around, making sure I didn’t see any cameras or famous actors about. No Jess Wherdon or Raphael DiGorno in sight. Which meant the chances of it being a film set were pretty much zip.
The robot lifted one arm and slammed it against the front of the municipal building again, shattering one of the ornate columns. When it turned slightly to step on the rubble, I realized that I could see the silhouette of someone sitting in the chest area. It wasn’t a robot; it was an armored mecha. Not exactly something you see every day.
“Hey,” I yelled as I took a step closer. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist that you stop that.” Wow, way to go Karen. Could you have been anymore lame?
The mecha turned to face me, clawed feet tearing into the asphalt of the street. The change in angle allowed me to see the driver in the cockpit more clearly. His eyes narrowed on me and when he moved his arms upwards, the arms of the machine followed suit. The nasty looking cannons resting on top of the dura-steel limbs tracked in my direction.
After Roland’s stress reducing session, I really didn’t want to get into a super-powered throw-down with a Macross wannabe. I set my bag down on the sidewalk and slowly approached the mecha. I managed to get within thirty feet when the arms twitched and I heard the resounding
thunk
of a target lock being engaged.
“Look,” I said, holding up a hand. “I get it. You’re pissed and have a burning need to take it out on someone. So why not City Hall, right?” I cut my eyes to the sides, gauging the speed at which the In-Bees were getting themselves elsewhere. Most had either vanished behind closed doors or moved dozens of yards down the street. Little chance for them to wind up as collateral damage. I put my attention back on the pilot and shrugged. “This isn’t the way to deal with your problem.”
“What the hell would you know about it?” The speaker beneath the chassis boomed.
“You’re right,” I said. “I don’t know anything about you other than you’ve probably had a bad day. Right? What happened? Get fired from your job? Find out your have a terminal disease? Discover your wife was cheating on – ”
One of the arm cannons roared and what felt like a bowling ball slammed into my chest, sending me flying into the side of a brand new Lexus and right on through it to a sliding stop on the other side. The impact crumpled in the driver’s door and set off the alarm. Looks like I was right about the source of this dude’s anger. I shook my head to clear it and looked down at the hunk of smoldering metal sitting in my lap.
A tank shell? Who the hell builds an armored mecha and decides to use 120 mm rounds instead of plasma cannons? No wonder this guy’s wife decided to give the loving to someone else. Idiocy was not an aphrodisiac. I pushed myself to my feet and gripped the deformed shell in my hand, sinking my fingers into it. “I wasn’t finished talking, asshole.”
Even from across the street, I could see the look of surprise on his face that his attack hadn’t put me down permanently. Obviously new in town. He yanked on the levers and the mecha turned to aim its other cannon.
I took a step forward and snapped my arm forward in a sideways throw, hurling the scrap metal back at him. It struck one of the mechanical legs right in the knee joint and destroyed the limb’s ability to function. I grinned slightly as I watched the pilot punch buttons like a madman. But nothing he did could keep the vehicle upright. It fell over onto its side, pinning the second cannon beneath its weight.
I walked over to the twitching machinery with quickly paced steps, reaching it just as the jerk decided to take a shot with the still-functioning cannon. As soon as the muzzle swung in my direction, I reached up and grabbed the edges of the barrel and crushed them together. Then I looked over at the pilot hanging in his seat and smiled. We both knew that if he pulled the trigger now, the blockage would send the blowback into his face.
