Loaded – Dominoes

It’s so comfy! Olivia snuggled further into her vast beanbag. My feet aren’t hanging off the edge, either. Where did Ben and Rob find this? She used the back of her claw to hit the next page button on her new tablet thing.

Amanda, asleep under her wing, twitched and mumbled something incoherent before quieting down again. I always forget how quiet it gets in here when everyone’s asleep. It’s nice. Something smells funky though. Not in here, but somewhere. Olivia lay her head down on her plushy jaguar, tilted the tablet accordingly, and resumed reading.

Blankets rustled from Rob’s section. After a moment, he staggered out from behind the curtain and headed straight for the makeshift cupboards by the table.

“Hi Rob. Up already?” she said, her voice low.

“Bwah?” he mumbled, spinning around. “Oh, there you are. Good morning,” he replied.

It’s morning? Olivia grabbed her phone from beneath the jaguar’s tail and checked it. Oh, wow. Seven already. I wish there were windows in here.

“Yeah, woke up a bit ago, figured I wasn’t gonna get back to sleep,” continued Rob. Plastic wrapping crinkled as he opened something he’d grabbed from the cupboard. Ew, smells like one of those granola bar things. “Amanda awake yet?”

“No.” She extended her wing enough for Rob to see the top of Amanda’s head underneath. “Just you and me.”

He took a seat facing Olivia. “Have you two been like this all night?” he asked between mouthfuls of his breakfast bar thing. Stop eating with your mouth open. You and Ben both. It’s so gross.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Well, I didn’t want to wake up Amanda or anything. And I was reading.” She held up the tablet to show him.

He leaned in closer. “Is that… oh, gotcha.” He grinned. “You’ll be wavin’ around a wand an’ speakin’ Britishisms soon enough.”

Olivia blinked. OK? “Yeah, Chris gave me a bunch of recommendations.” There are so many books out there!

“Find anythin’ in particular?”

“No. Well, yes. I’ve liked everything so far. There was also that other one, I think it had game in the title or something.”

“Oh man, that one. A dystopian young adult book with a female protagonist fightin’ against the government. The originality is staggerin’.”

“What?” I have no idea what you’re talking about.

“Nothin’. You just ain’t jaded yet. Likin’ the bean bag?” he asked, before she could say anything.

“Yes!” said Olivia with a smile. “Thank you guys so much, again. It’s so comfy.” Why did they do that? I guess that sounds kind of ungrateful, though. Maybe… oh! “You guys didn’t know if it was my actual birthday though, right?”

“No, not at all.” He finished off his granola bar and got up from his chair.

“Oh.” Darn it. “Yesterday wasn’t actually my birthday, then.”

“So?” he asked over his shoulder as he reached the trash can beside the fridge.

“Well, why yesterday?”

“We thought it’d be fun.” He grinned again, sitting back down on the chair and balancing on two of its legs. “Just tryin’ to be nice.”

That question came out wrong. “No, no. I just… um… sorry.”

“What the?” came a muffled voice beside Olivia. She withdrew her wing. Amanda rolled away blinked at the light overhead.

“Good morning, Amanda,” said Olivia. Rob just laughed.

Amanda winced as she flipped over and propped herself up on her elbows. “Oh, good morning, you two.” She rubbed her eyes. “When did I fall asleep?”

“Um, I think at around eleven last night,” replied Olivia.

Amanda nodded. “Wait, was I literally under your wing this whole time?”

“Yeah, you showed me the option menu thing, then kind of fell asleep. I didn’t want to wake you up or anything.”

Amanda flopped back down on the bean bag. “This thing is pretty comfortable.”

“I know!” It doesn’t have a backrest or anything.

“Thank Miya, she’s the one who found it,” said Rob. “Oh, Amanda, when you’re ready to leave the land of comfort, I made some progress on a couple of those projects.”

Amanda raised her head. “Oh, what?”

“I almost got the rails ready, give me an hour and they’ll be ready for testing. I carved out some space in my armor for those sensors an’ comms you got. Oh, an’ I’ll need your measurements for makin’ the plates for your own armor, too.”

“All of that already? Awesome! Oh, did you get all that wiring finished?”

“Who the fuck do you think I am? Of course I did. Took maybe an hour. Oh yeah, did you get around to insulating my armor yesterday?”

“Yep, in that you should be safe from any electrical attack short of a lightning bolt now. You may want to check on the right arm gears, though. I had to pull a couple things out of place and didn’t want to mess up anything else trying to put them back in.” I wish I could do stuff like that.

Rob frowned for a moment. “Oh, that’s an easy fix. No worries.”

“Cool. Excuse me, Olivia,” said Amanda, half covered by Olivia’s wing again.

Right. Olivia got up, curling her hands to keep her claws from slashing up the bean bag. She offered a hand to Amanda.

“I’m not made of glass, you know,” she grumbled, accepting Olivia’s help. She bit her lip as she got to her feet.

“You OK?” asked Rob.

Amanda nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She started for her own section. “Just give me five minutes. Still waking up.”

It’s only been two weeks. She seems skinnier. Or is it just me?

“Sure, I’ll be over by the workshop,” said Rob as Amanda nodded and disappeared behind a curtain. Olivia heard something hard and plastic rattle.

“Doin’ anythin’ fun, ‘liv?” asked Rob.

“I’m actually thinking of going to sleep.”

“Readin’ all night take it outta you?”

“A little.” She stretched all her limbs, having been in roughly the same position for ten hours.

“Oh yeah, what’s up with your back?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Your shirt was sticking up in weird places on your back when you were layin’ down.” What… oh no, the spikes.

“I, um, it’s nothing,” she stammered, walking backwards to her section. “It’s, um, it’s just, you know, um, nothing.” She reached the curtain and dodged behind it.

“Um, OK?” said Rob.

A moment passed, then Rob walked over to another part of the lair. Darn it, they’re getting obvious? She scratched at the inch long spikes. Please stop growing. Please?

She sighed and collapsed onto her bed. I don’t need to be any weirder.

***

Olivia woke up to an intense conversation between Amanda and Rob. I don’t know what shear stress is, but that sounds really technical. She lay in bed, eyes closed. I should get up and do something. I just sat around all of yesterday. What’s everyone else doing?

The only other set of lungs drawing breath in the room was Miya, at the table. Olivia couldn’t hear or smell anything else. Maybe she’s setting up for another lesson thing. It’d be great if I can get something besides flickering green stuff from my fingertips. Or claws, whatever. Olivia cracked her eyes open and glanced at the green scales of her hands. Of course the magic stuff had to be green, too. Whatever, I should get up.

After a couple more minutes of repeating ‘I should get up’ to herself in her head, she finally dragged herself out of bed. She stopped at the curtain. I’ve wore this shirt since all of yesterday. I should probably change. She zipped open the black duffel bag next to her bed, and rifled through the clothes within.

A plain blue shirt with a penguin caught her eye. Why not? She frowned the instant she pulled on the shirt. When did this one get so tight? She rolled her shoulders, trying to find some extra room. This is kind of annoying. What about the others?

She pulled the too small shirt off. The spikes on her back caught on the shirt fabric in the process, ripping the shirt in half. Her hand jerked in surprise, and her claws tore through more fabric.

“No, no, no. Darn it,” she muttered under her breath, wrestling with the shirt. Get off.

“Olivia, you OK in there?” asked Miya. Olivia froze, arms tangled in the shirt, as Miya pulled aside the curtain behind her. “Whoa. Sorry, sorry. I’m an idiot,” she said, retreating behind the curtain.

She didn’t… she didn’t see the spikes, did she? Olivia kept still for another moment. I guess not. She’d have said something. Olivia grabbed another shirt and threw it on, this time careful not to demolish it.

“Sorry about that,” said Miya as Olivia joined her at the table.

“No, it’s OK.” Olivia twisted around a chair and sat, backrest in front of her.

“What was all that I heard?”

“The… the shirt was too small.” Miya sighed. “Sorry,” mumbled Olivia.

“No, it’s not that. Just thinking. Me and Amanda went through the big and tall store at the mall. I guess they might have some bigger sizes we could get. Anything you want in particular?”

“I don’t know. Um, I like what I have now.” Does that count?

“All you wear are cargo pants, which are too short for you, and t shirts, which are also too short for you. We can get other things. In fact we did. We bought other things besides t shirts and cargo pants, you know.”

“Yeah, but a lot of it was too thin. Like, when I cut the back, they kind of just disintegrated. Oh, and the tank tops didn’t work at all.” I couldn’t figure out how to get those on around the wings.

“You didn’t think to tell us this?”

“I didn’t want to make a fuss.”

“Just tell us. That way you don’t have to cycle through the exact same clothes every couple days.” It’s not that bad.

“OK,” said Olivia.

“Also, what were those things on your back?” No, no.

“Nothing.”

Miya raised an eyebrow. “I’m not an idiot. I saw a bunch of dark grey things on your back.”

She saw. Just… just get it over with. “I, um, spikes.”

“Spikes,” Miya repeated.

“Yeah,” said Olivia, looking at the claws of her feet digging into the concrete. I know, I’m weird.

“What? Why are you looking like I’m about to hit you? You have wings and a tail. You really think spikes make any actual difference?”

“I… I don’t… I don’t know.” Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Olivia heard a sharp crack from where Rob and Amanda were working. Something small and metal clattered on the concrete floor.

“Fuck yeah!” exclaimed Rob.

“I think we have a winner,” said Amanda. They slapped their hands together in a high five.

“Hang on, that gives me an idea” Miya walked off to where Amanda and Rob worked. “Hey, guys, do you have a tape measure I could borrow?” A what?

“Uh, yeah. One sec,” replied Rob. Olivia heard a cabinet drawer open.

Miya returned with a small black box looking thing. She grabbed a small tab sticking out of a corner and pulled out a length of bright yellow tape.

“Here, keep this under your toe,” she said, crouching down. Olivia pinned the end of the tape down with a claw. Miya looked up at her for a moment. “Yeah, I’m not tall enough. Pull this until it reaches the top of your head, then hit this little lever,” she said with a tap to the side of the tape measure.

Is it some kind of ruler? Olivia took the tape measure and did as Miya instructed. Oh, yeah, there are a bunch of lines and numbers. I think Dr. Ruskov used something similar. She passed it back to Miya, who read the tape closes to the little black box.

“Yeah, you’ve over seven feet tall now. Just short of seven foot one.”

Olivia hung her head. No. Please no. I don’t want to get any taller. I’m already smacking my head on door frames. Please no.

The door to the lair opened. “God damn gas is expensive,” proclaimed Ben as he walked in, ammunition box in hand.

“You’re surprised?” asked Miya.

“Fuckin’ five dollars per gallon?”

“Well, about half the world’s oil is being invaded. Well, not the oil, the land. Whatever, you get what I’m saying.” Why is there always so much bad stuff going on?

“Venezuela, yeah, I get that.”

“There’s a warlord in the Middle East. He’s moved on to Kurdistan from Iraq.” Olivia heard the door open again.

Ben shrugged as he set the ammo down against the wall behind Miya. “I guess.” He tilted his head as he looked at Olivia. “Why you lookin’ so sad?”

Olivia tucked her wings in tighter. “I, um, nothing.”

“She’s taller,” said Miya.

“Better than the alternative.” He wrapped an arm around Miya’s waist and lifted her off the ground, chair and all. “This is a Miya. See how small it is?” he said, dodging Miya’s surprised flails.

“Hey, don’t call her ‘it’.” That’s not nice.

“Yeah, fuck you,” said Miya, elbowing Ben in the collarbone. He set her back down on the ground.

“Think of it this way,” he said as he walked around the table. “Miya, how many times you needed a stool or ladder to reach somethin’ high up?”

She glared. Ben just smiled as he sat. “A lot,” she conceded with a sigh.

“See?”

“I think you’re underestimating how awkward it is to be the tallest person in the room,” said Chris from the fridge. Thank you! You’re not that tall, though. I guess you’re taller than everyone else, but you’re not that tall. Right?

“Oh, hey there, Chris,” said Ben with a wave. “Also, what’d ya say?”

“Being tall is not all fun and games,” repeated Chris. Seriously?

“You’re tall?” asked Olivia. Everyone burst into laughter. She just blinked. I’m serious.

Ben composed himself enough to say, “Olivia, I’d consider Amanda tall for a chick. An’ I’d consider Chris tall for a guy. You’re super tall, your view is kinda skewed.”

“Yes, I’m tall,” added Chris, taking a seat next to Olivia. “I’m six foot five, and I stopped really growing sometime around freshman year of high school. Trust me, I know the struggle.”

“Wait, six foot five as a freshman?” asked Miya, eyes wide. “Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah, height wise. I filled out later,” said Chris, holding his hands out and spreading them apart. Oh. I guess growing isn’t that weird. Olivia glanced down at the top of Miya’s head. Still, though…

“Where have you been all day?” asked Miya.

“I just got done talking with my roommate. He had my stuff moved to storage. Because, you know, I was gone for two or three months and didn’t pay my share of rent.”

“Wouldn’t the cops be watchin’ that place, then?” asked Ben.

“Oh, yeah. Of course. Hell, we’ll be on the feds’ radar if we keep up all the public mayhem. Still good to know. I might have to get that stuff back eventually,” said Chris with a sigh.

“What was that sigh for?” asked Miya.

“Just thinking.”

“‘bout what?” Yeah, what Ben said. What’s wrong?

Chris shrugged. “What I want to do with my life, I guess.”

“I hear ya,” agreed Ben.

“But what about what we’re doing now?” asked Olivia.

“This?” He waved an arm around, gesturing to the rest of the lair. “This isn’t exactly what I want to do for the rest of my life.”

“What’s wrong with us?” she asked.

“What? No, not you guys. Just the whole getting hounded by the cops, not having any clear idea of what to do, living in a place with no running water. That kind of stuff.”

“It’s not as though we’d never see each other ever again if we got other jobs,” added Miya. But… we wouldn’t be together and stuff.

“I gotcha. I’m missin’ two fuckin’ fingers. Havin’ a hard time grippin’ stuff. I can’t really fight with this hand anymore,” said Ben, wiggling the three remaining fingers on his maimed hand. “Thing is, I don’t know what else to do. The more I think about it, the more I don’t wanna do this for the rest of my life.”

“I don’t know either. I was thinking about going back to college.”

“And study what?” asked Miya.

“That’s the thing. I have no idea.”

“What’d ya do when you first went?” asked Ben.

“MHU training. That was two years of basic and classes.”

“Basic?” asked Olivia. Basic classes? Then why would he say it like they were two separate things?

“Basic training. We basically had the Army’s training with some modifications to it. It was focused on taking care of all kinds of powers. But that’s the only skill I have, and I’ve soured on that career path. And I know what they could do,” Chris said, jerking his towards Rob and Amanda. “Techies can get a job anywhere. What are the rest of you thinking about doing?”

I… I don’t know. I don’t really like hurting people, but what else can I do? I don’t… I can’t go to school or anything. Can I?

“I got no idea,” said Ben. “No high school diploma. All my experience is in food, an’ I’m sure as hell I don’t wanna do that shit. Hell, worked as a line cook one summer. That shit sucked.”

“Really, just making food?” asked Miya. Food? Is anyone else hungry?

“Jus’ makin’ food? Jus’ makin’ food? I worked twelve fuckin’ hour shifts. I had to juggle a dozen orders on two grills for twelve fuckin’ hours, no fuckin’ breaks. Got a ton of nasty burns on my arms, nearly sliced off the tip of my finger once, watched a guy spill boilin’ fry oil on his leg on my second day on the job.”

“Twelve hours? Why would you do that to yourself?”

“Cuz that guy spilled oil on himself an’ they needed me to take the slack. I was healin’ up from a big fight then, had nothin’ else to do, an’ I’m a fuckin’ idiot sometimes. What about you, Pokey? Any retirement plans?”

Miya shrugged. “I don’t really have any complaints right now. I’ve been in worse places.” Olivia wrapped a wing around her.

“Well, aren’t we an indecisive lot?” said Ben with a grin. How is that funny?

“Here, let me make a decision: I’m gonna go to sleep now,” said Miya, rising from her chair.

“Yeah, same here,” said Chris. “I need to meet with my old foster parents tomorrow.”

“What for?” asked Ben.

“Well, they work for the Freeman Company, the same company that was in charge of that feral place in Houston. They helped me get a position there.”

“You didn’t think that through, did you?” asked Miya.

“Yeah, I was an idiot. Amanda wiped all records of me from their databases, but they could still put two and two together when they saw the news of the breakout.” Chris shrugged, a frown on his face. “We’ll see. Anyways, good night.”

“Oh yeah, Olivia. Found a firin’ range we could use for target practice,” said Ben, pointing to her as Miya and Chris left.

“Oh, well, um, do I really need to?” Guns are just… I don’t know, violent. She glanced down at her claws.

“Come on, don’t tell me knowin’ how to shoot wouldn’t have been better than runnin’ up to someone, gettin’ shot the whole way.” Getting shot is annoying. But… I don’t know. He’s just going to keep asking.

“Um, OK.”

“Lemme give you the directions.”

***

Olivia landed in the woods in the foothills of the mountains. The only light besides the moon and stars was a small lightbulb on a large pavilion looking structure. Behind her, Ben drove up the dirt road. She sighed. Do I have to do this?

Olivia helped him unpack the box of ammo he’d bought and a few gun cases. Ben flicked on a few more floodlights, illuminating the general area. He set up a few bottles on a log a short distance away.

“Before I hand you a gun, a couple things,” he began. “Keep it pointed at the ground until you’re ready to shoot. An’ if there’s people ‘round, never, ever, ever, ever point this at someone unless you mean to shoot ‘em. Second thing. Keep you finger off the trigger at all times, unless you’re ‘bout to shoot. Good so far?”

“I think so.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ya think so? OK. Repeat what I said.”

“Um, keep it pointed at the ground, and keep my finger off the trigger unless I’m ready to shoot.”

He nodded. “Good. Now, second thing: Respect the gun. Don’t fear the gun. Don’t pussyfoot around with it. Keep a firm hold on it. Don’t try an’ crush it. Now, I figure size an’ recoil ain’t much of a problem for ya, but we’re still gonna start with somethin’ smaller. Glock for ya,” he said, passing her a small, black plastic pistol.

She held it, keeping it pointed towards the ground. It’s kind of small.

“Safety for a glock is a bit weird. We won’t worry ’bout that for now. Again, keep it on until you’re ready to start firin’, like the trigger.” He produced a large set of orange earmuffs. “Tilt your head down. These’ll help with the noise.” He put the earmuffs over her ears.

He showed her how to stand, feet apart and leaning slightly forward. So, now I shoot. Ben nodded. OK. Just pull the trigger. She squeezed the trigger. The resultant bang still broke through the earmuffs, but didn’t sting her ears like they did most of the time. What was he saying about recoil? I didn’t feel any.

“Alright, try an’ hit the middle bottle now,” he said, loud enough to be heard through the earmuffs.

She held up the gun again. OK. Just pull the trigger. Nothing happened.

“Hold up. Gun down. You seem to have removed the trigger. Uh, where’d it go?”

It fell somewhere? Olivia searched the floor. “Oh, there it is,” she said, reaching down and pinching the small bit of metal between her claws. She held it up for Ben to see.

He tilted his head. “Well, let’s try somethin’ else.”

***

Ben called it a night after three more broken triggers. Two more had been completely cut off, the last Olivia had accidentally bent it and the firing mechanism completely out of shape. Oh thank god.

They packed everything back up to Ben’s car. He returned to the lair. Olivia spent hours flying around in the mountains. Well, at least this got me out in this area again. There’s a lot less power lines here.

Once morning returned, Olivia returned to the lair as well. Rob and Amanda hadn’t moved much, fully engrossed as they were with something in Rob’s armor. Chris was gone, and Miya and Ben ate breakfast. Olivia sat down to join them. Is it breakfast for me, or is it dinner because it’s the last meal before I go to sleep?

“Guys, guys,” said Miya, breaking the comfortable silence. “Look.”

“What?” asked Ben.

Miya shoved the phone in his face. His smile vanished. “Call Chris.” To Amanda and Rob he yelled, “Quit what you’re doin’ an’ grab a gun, now.”

<- Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ->

Loaded – Cake

“Think about it. It gets you outside an’ in great shape.”

“Rob…” began Chris, weary resignation in his voice.

No interrupting. Rob talked over him. “You get to know people. The kinda people who’d be good to know.”

“Wait. Not sure ‘bout that one,” said Ben.

“Shush. Lemme finish,” said Rob.

“You two do realize what you’re talking about, yes?” asked Miya.

“Shush, all of you,” insisted Rob. “An’ not just individual people, but people in general. You get to know how they act, an’ react. What do they do under stress? You’d find out real quick.”

Ben nodded. “OK, I get that one. But what about the other one? Good to know people?”

“Well, the super wealthy are always good to know.”

“Super wealthy?”

“Who else would have the resources to do that for any length of time?”

“No,” cut in Chris. “No matter how you spin it, hunting other people for sport is not a good thing. No.”

“Did you listen to anythin’ I said?”

“Yes. And before you say anything, no. Just no.”

The four of them sat around the table in the lair. Olivia had taken advantage of the night and was out flying, and Amanda had withdrawn to her work area. She’s been throwing herself at her work since she got back. More so than usual, anyway.

Ben and Miya just cracked up. Rob snorted. “I think I made some good arguments there.”

“Yeah, I’m with ya,” chipped in Ben. “It’s decided. Human hunting is the best sport.”

“What?” said Chris, eyes wide. “The only other sport you said was arson. That’s not a sport. Neither of those are sports.”

“Hang on, I let me look up the real definition,” said Miya, holding her phone in front of her. “Here it is: ‘an activity involving physical exertion and skill in which an individual or team competes against another or others for entertainment’.”

“Yeah, arson could totally be a sport,” said Ben.

“Yeah, so could human huntin’. Thanks, Miya,” added Rob.

She glanced at Chris with a smile. “You know they’re going to argue on, no matter how much logic you try to put in.”

“Better’n baseball,” said Ben with a grin. “That shit sucks. Barely a real sport.”

“I kind of have to agree with them” said Miya. “I can’t sit through a full game of baseball without my antifucks reaching critical levels.” Hold on a second.

Ben had the same thought. “Antifucks?” he asked Miya.

“Yeah, where you don’t give a fuck. With baseball, I so don’t give a fuck that my amount of antifucks reaches critical mass.”

Chris sighed and shook his head. “Philistines,” he muttered under his breath. What? You like baseball? There are still real humans who like baseball?

“That don’t make sense,” said Rob.

“Hush, it makes sense if you don’t think about it.”

Ben and Rob snickered.

“Hey, Amanda. What’cha workin’ on?” asked Rob.

“Olivia’s thingy.”

“What do you mean by thingy?” That could, quite literally, be anything.

“Her family. I’m working on tracking down who they could be.”

“Any luck?” asked Chris.

“Kinda. Not really. Not much I can do from here, though.”

“No family. That’s got to suck,” he said in the silence that followed.

“Meh. Family is overrated,” said Miya. Chris frowned. Whoa, that’s a little harsh.

Ben and Rob exchanged looks, then both shrugged. “Depends on the family,” said Rob. No one’s perfect.

“We should throw Olivia a birthday party or somethin’,” said Ben.

The conversation slowed to a halt as they all considered his suggestion. Could be fun. Why not?

“Why?” asked Chris. “I’m not saying it’s a bad idea, but what made you think of that?”

“Well, who else would? Besides, all she’s got to do is fly around. May as well do somethin’ for her.”

“Amanda, what do you think?” called out Rob over his shoulder.

“What?” she called back.

“Come here for a minute.” Shouting conversations are a pain.

He heard a thunk as she set something down on her desk. “What is it?” she asked when she reached the rest of them. She stood at the end of the table, rather than sitting down beside them. You aren’t covering up that wincing nearly as well as you think you are. Does Miya need to give you a checkup or something?

“Thinkin’ of throwin’ a birthday party kinda thing for Olivia. You in?” asked Ben.

Amanda blinked in surprise. After a moment she said, “Of course. When?”

“Uh…” Good question.

“Next week?” suggested Chris. “Gives us a chance to find our gifts, and its not as though we have any jobs coming in right now.”

“Yeah. We can’t just rely on you stumbling ass backwards into another job like that animal smuggling one,” said Miya.

“One week works,” said Amanda. Ben and Rob nodded.

“Cool. Let’s get our shit together a week from now,” said Ben.

***

Three days later, Rob found himself walking through the mall with Ben and Miya. They passed by a shop selling cinnamon buns absolutely overloaded with lard and sugar.

“God bless America. Anyone want one?” said Ben Miya fake shivered.

“No. I haven’t hit rock bottom yet,” said Rob.

“Point. Oh, maybe that shop?” Ben pointed to the shop in question, one of those novelty stores selling massage chairs and odd toys.

“Sure,” said Miya.

They browsed the store. Some of this stuff is cool. He picked up a grill fork that seconded as a thermometer. I’d totally buy this.

Miya walked up to him and Ben. “I found something,” said Miya, holding aloft a large jaguar plushy.

“Awesome,” said Rob.

“She loves jaguars, don’t she?”

“Yes. Very much so,” said Miya. Rob caught sight of something behind her.

“Wait, wait, guys. You seein’ what I’m seein’?” asked Rob.

“I dunno. What?” said Ben.

“That enormous fuck off beanbag.” Rob pointed to the corner of the store and a massive dark blue beanbag nearly the size of a queen size bed.

“Yes! That’s perfect,” said Miya, her grin matching his own.

“Think we should get that?” asked Rob.

“You totally should.”

They walked over to examine the beanbag. “It’s a bit pricy,” said Rob.

“Split between the two of us it ain’t bad,” pointed out Ben, motioning between himself and Rob. “An’ why you two think Olivia would like this so much?”

Rob grinned. “Because she said so,” he said.

“Remember John Doe? There was one of these in Rob’s illusion thing. Olivia loved it,” added Miya.

“Wait, she didn’t have wings in that. She hates backrests, remember?” said Ben. I didn’t, but whatever.

“She can lay forward, don’t have to be on her back,” said Rob. “It’ll work.”

“It’s huge, though.”

Your point being? “So is she.”

“No. How are we gonna move it anywhere? How are we gonna hide it?”

“My truck, and my truck,” answered Rob. “We got tarps at the lair, an’ I’d be willin’ to put money she’s asleep right now.”

Ben nodded grinned. “I think we got somethin’, then.”

***

Birthday time. Olivia slept through the day, they had more than enough time to get everything set up without tipping her off. Ben was out getting a cake with Miya. Chris helped Rob with getting the bean bag from his truck and into the lair.

“Why did you get such a big bean bag?” asked Chris as he flattened the bean bag to fit it through the door.

“It’s comfy as hell,” said Rob on the other side of it. He pulled as Chris flattened, careful to not get the bean bag caught on something and tear it. “What’d you get?”

“Sound cancelling headphones,” said Chris. “They muffle sound, not really cancel it out. You get what I’m saying.”

They worked the last few feet of bean bag in and set it down between the curtains and the table. With that done, Rob wandered off to where Amanda crouched over some new contraption of hers. He leaned on her desk.

“You ready? Got somethin’?”

“Yes,” said Amanda, not looking up. She tapped on a small tablet to her side, beneath a large computer monitor. “An e-book reader thing.”

“Aren’t those kind of expensive?”

“Not if you make one yourself out of ten dollar’s worth of parts and some pirated software. It’ll work better than anything you can get off the shelf, too. Man, I missed having actual tools and resources.”

“How long did that take you?”

“Maybe an hour or two.”

“Feel like takin’ a break?” Before you explode?

“Not really. Why?”

“You’ve been workin’ with me on your car. You’re designin’ completely new armor. You’re workin’ with Olivia on findin’ her old life. You’re still injured, I see you wincin’ an’ poppin’ pills. You think you need to be takin’ on even more shit?” He gestured to the setup she had on her desk. That isn’t an e reader thing.

“There’s a lot to do.”

“An’ you’ve been doin’ that stuff to the detriment of everythin’ else. Why?”

“Because what else can I do? I can’t fight. Not unless I manage to get a set of power armor working. But until then, I’m useless otherwise. May as well be in a coma if I can’t do something.”

“Not gonna talk with the rest of us, even?”

“And say what? Bitch about my injuries some more? No, I’ll be useful.” Pissing her off isn’t the right way to go about this.

“What are you even workin’ on now?” Let’s see if I can’t help out.

“A railgun.” Wait, what now?

“Railgun? Don’t the Navy have those things?”

“They’re working on them. And they’re focused on big guns. I’m talking about a personal weapon kind of thing.”

Rob grabbed a chair and pulled it up next to Amanda. This sounds interesting! “You know guns are artillery, right? How you gonna make that a personal weapon?”

“I was thinking a rifle. The longer a railgun is the more powerful it is. I don’t think a pistol sized one would be feasible.”

“OK. Why?”

“These rails are connected to a current. If you put a metallic object between them and complete the circuit, the resultant magnetic forces around the rails-” I don’t know what most of that means.

“Yeah. Gonna have to stop you there. I dunno how to make computers do computer things.”

“What? There’s no computers in this. Not yet, anyways. This is just an electrical system for now.”

“Sorry. Lemme clarify. I dunno how to make electricity do electricity things.”

Amanda sighed and rolled her eyes. “You’re not helping.”

“OK. Lemme think,” he said. He grabbed one of the light brown rails and scratched at it with a fingernail. Not too hard. He tapped it against the desk. Doesn’t sound right. “So the electricity makes a thing go much fasterfied cuz black magic, right?”

“Yeah. Let me show you. Hand me that rail?” Rob returned it to her. She placed it in parallel to its twin, then grabbed a small chunk of some other metal and placed it between the two. “Basically, hitting the trigger makes this go fast that way,” she said, sliding the metal chunk along the rails away from herself.

Problem. “How fast?”

“I was working under the assumption of a low caliber bullet for now. If it works, I was thinking about making something more substantial.”

–That would cause metal to grind on metal. The current materials used now would be whittled down to half their size in two shots.–

“Friction would fuck the rails up right quick,” he said.

Amanda tilted her head and considered the rails. “No? They’re already putting out a bunch of heat from the current running through them. I was going to just air cool them. The added heat from friction shouldn’t be too hard to handle.”

“No, I’m thinkin’ mechanically. Like grindin’ down a knife. The rails would be tiny little sticks after two shots.  Trust me, that’s the fuckin’ bane of my existence. Always gotta keep the gears an’ shit in my armor maintained.” So much WD-40. So much…

“Oh. Damn it.” She consulted her plans on her computer. “Well, I was just going to use that alloy for experiments anyways.”

“Wouldn’t be that hard to make a sturdier alloy to use.” What you’re using now is pretty shitty in that respect.

“Oh, really?” she asked, brightening up. “But wait, its conductivity is pretty important.”

“True. I can think of a couple things. Copper’s conductive, right?”

“Yes, that’s a good one. So is gold and silver. Wait, that’s dumb.” She hung her head back, eyes closed. “Never mind.”

Rob grinned. “Yeah, we don’t really got the budget for those last two. But I can think of a couple copper alloys I could make that wouldn’t wear out too quick.”

At this point they sat right next to each other, their heads almost touching as they examined Amanda’s prototype.

“I’ll need to test how conductive they are though.”

Rob shrugged. “Sure. An’ wait a sec, you can’t just make ‘em yourself?”

“No, I have no idea how to smelt metal or whatever it is you do. I can use the materials I have around me to make electrical systems, my power doesn’t tell me how to make those materials.”

“How do you do anythin’, then?”

Now it was Amanda’s turn to shrug. “I just do. I can rarely actually optimize anything, but I can usually make something do what I want it to do. Things just need maintenance. Oh! Speaking of which. What about maintaining the gun? Won’t the rails still be worn down in time?”

“Hrm. Make ‘em replaceable?”

She nodded. “That could work. We’ll want to make this easy to take apart, it is experimental.”

“Yeah, we gotta work out the kinks an’ shit.”

“Another thing is the power. I’ve been looking at an adequate portable power source, and the only ones I can think of are non-rechargeable batteries.” A small beep came from her computer. “Speak of the devil. It’s ready to go.”

She attached the rails to the desk and wired them to a large black battery.

“Sure this is gonna work? You just slapped that together in maybe thirty seconds,” said Rob as she readied the metal chunk of a projectile.

“Oh please, this is simple stuff.” She hit the switch, and the lights promptly died with a spark. A small whiff of smoke rose from a wire junction.

“You were sayin’ somethin’?” asked Rob. Must not laugh. Must not laugh.

“Yeah, I was saying shut up.” The corner of her mouth twitched up.

“Guys, guys, it’s time!” said Ben as he and Miya came in with a sheet cake.

“Time? How do you know? She’s still asleep,” said Chris at the table. Miya set down the cake in front of him.

“Well, we’re gonna wake her up,” answered Ben. Thank god she sleeps like a rock. Otherwise she’d have known days ago.

“You wanna eat that cake, don’t you,” said Rob.

“You’re goddamn right I do. That shit’s amazin’, an shit dries up stupid fast up here at altitude. Now come on.”

Rob glanced at Amanda, who just shrugged. Rob helped her to her feet, then they joined the others around the table. Amanda set her tablet beside Chris’ headphones as she took a seat.

Miya grabbed the jaguar from her own curtained off portion of the lair and slipped into Olivia’s. A moment later, she scampered back out, minus the plushy, and joined the rest of them.

“What’d you do?” asked Chris.

“I tapped her head a bunch, then put it on her back. She was moving when I got out,” she whispered.

They heard a sharp intake of breath from Olivia’s direction. She walked out from behind the curtain with the jaguar and a smile. “Happy birthday!”

Olivia froze with a tiny squeaking sound. She ducked her head and hugged the plushy tighter to her chest, until only her eyes poked out over the jaguar’s head.

“Come on, sit down,” said Ben. He teleported to Olivia’s side and led her to her seat with the backrest sawn off. She moved without resistance.

“You can breathe, ya know,” said Ben. Olivia buried her now red face into the plushy.

“Shhh. You spooked her.” Rob glanced around. Everyone’s attention was on Olivia, all with amused looks on their faces. Yeah, she gets funny when she’s embarrassed.

“Don’t be mean,” said Amanda, punching Rob’s arm. “Are you OK, Olivia?”

Olivia responded with a tiny nod of the head. Ben began cutting the cake. “You want some cake?” he asked.

After a moment, she gave another tiny nod, her face still buried in the plushie.

“You’re gonna have to look up to eat it, ya know,” said Ben as he passed a paper plate towards her.

She nodded again. Amanda nudged Rob beside her. What? She motioned her head towards Ben and the cake. What?

She asked, “What kind of cake is that?”

“Chocolate vanilla marble cake. Best of both worlds, if ya ask me.”

“Where’d you get it?” she asked.

“Bakery off of Wadsworth. Gone there a couple times for breakfast, it’s pretty damn good.

Chris and Miya both turned to follow the conversation. Oh, I get it, so we’re not all staring at Olivia. They continued the cake conversation for a couple more minutes as Ben distributed pieces to the rest of them. Olivia eventually mustered up the courage to raise her head again. She looks like she’s about to cry. Rather than crying, she took a tentative bite of cake, jaguar on her lap.

“Are you alright?” asked Amanda once everyone had finished.

“I just… um…” Olivia took in a deep breath. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t expecting this. At all.”

“Well what are friends for, if not surprisin’ an’ embarrassing’ the hell out of each other? Wanna see what you got?”

Olivia shrank again. “I… um…”

Chris passed the big puffy headphones to her. “New headphones. They should sound better than those earbuds you have right now. They’ll muffle outside sounds.”

Rather than letting everyone stare at Olivia again, Amanda passed her the tablet. “This is an e-book reader. I can show you how to download basically any book you want on it.”

“Oh, an’ that big-ass bean bag behind you is yours,” added Rob.

“What?” Olivia twisted around to get a better look at it. She turned back around and wrapped her arms and wings around everyone except Ben, on the opposite side of the table. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

***

Rob finished throwing out the last of the paper plates in the dumpster out back. They used the dumpster of a nearby office building to avoid having to pay for garbage. Ben, Chris, and Miya gone to sleep in the last several hours. Olivia lay on her beanbag, tablet in front of her.

“Where’s Amanda?” he asked. Need to ask her about the railgun. She never told me how long it was supposed to be.

Olivia lifted her wing. Amanda lay sound asleep on the bean bag beside her. Rob whispered, “You want me to grab her a blanket or somethin’?”

“We’re fine. She was showing me how to get the book thing to work.” Olivia whispered back.

Rob grinned. “Bueno. I’m passin’ out. Good night.”

Olivia smiled back. “Good night,” she whispered back. “And thanks again.”

<- Previous Chapter

<- Previous Side Story

Next Chapter ->

Loaded – Pater Familias

Amanda slouched on the couch in front of the TV one week after arriving back at her parents’ house. The whole family sat around in the expansive living room, even Father. Mother had dragged him out of his office, and Amanda out of her room, so they could experience the glories of family time. Amanda was underwhelmed.

Mother nudged Father’s hand every couple of minutes when he reached for his cell phone. He would mutter “sorry,” and return his attention to the TV as canned laughter from the bad sitcom played. Mother would just purse her lips and shake her head.

“So, how have you liked the food?” asked Mother.

“Good,” replied Amanda, eyes fixed firmly in front of her.

“Nothing been giving you any stomach trouble?” Mother went on, watching Amanda from the opposite end of the couch.

“Nope.” Thank god.

“Oh, that’s good.”

Amanda didn’t respond. She just let the TV fill the silence once again.

Her father’s phone started ringing with its distinctive ringtone, the whistling theme song from one of those old Western movies he loved.

“Dear,” began Mother with a dangerous tone.

“I’m sorry, Dear. This is important.” He got rose from the couch and walked into the kitchen behind them as he pulled out his phone.

Amanda sank deeper into the charcoal grey couch. Her stomach gave her trouble if she tried to sit upright for extended periods of time. Standing is a pain, getting up is a pain, eating anything more solid that oatmeal is a pain. Fuck this.

Father’s voice echoed from the kitchen. “Tell him he’d better get his ass out of Caracas. The military didn’t have their thumbs up their asses, and we don’t want to endanger our other contracts.”

The capital of Venezuela? Overlord invaded there. What is Lock Corp doing in Caracas? Amanda kept herself from glancing at her mother. Don’t need to look like I’m listening in.

“Whatever our current contract says, it’s not enough. We’ll lose half our men to desertion if you want them to go up against their own country,” said Father, not bothering to hide his frustration.

Mother coughed and turned up the volume of the TV. Damn it. Amanda forced herself to relax.

“Yeah, we fucked up. Don’t need to tell me. Do what you need to do.” A pause. “Talk to you tomorrow.” Father rejoined them soon after.

“Sorry about that, Dear,” he said as he returned to Mother’s side. “Just a small problem at work.”

The end credits rolled on screen. “Well, I’m going to bed,” said Amanda. She braced her arms, preparing to get up.

“Would you like some help?” asked Mother, poised on the edge of her seat.

“I got it,” said Amanda. She gritted her teeth and pushed herself up off the couch with her arms. “See?”

“The doctors said to be careful, honey.”

“I’m being careful.”

Mother just pursed her lips. “It’s alright, dear. Goodnight, Amanda,” said Father with a parting wave.

Amanda nodded and left. She struggled up the stairs to her room. When did stairs get so hard? She caught her breath at the top before walking the rest of her way to her room. The lock clicked as she closed the door to her room behind her. Oh thank God. My stuff is still here, right? If they got suspicious and had one of their men go through here while I was having family fun time, this is going to be unpleasant. But they would have confronted me the moment they found anything. Whatever, doesn’t hurt to check.

At first glance, her room looked normal. If her parents had checked the room, there would have been no evidence of what she’d been up to every night for the past week immediately visible. She’d swept up the bits of plastic, wire, and tape and thrown them in the bottom of three different partially trash cans throughout the house. The three boxes of materials were safely hidden away, two beneath her bed, and another simply sitting in plain sight on her bookshelf.

She kneeled down grabbed that last box. Her stomach knotted as she lifted. She gritted her teeth and set it on her desk.

Everything still where it is? No tampering? Hell yes. She’d made progress in the last week. Not a great deal of progress, but it was progress nonetheless. She’d managed to patch two different broken circuit boards back together. What they would do would depend on how she tinkered with the wiring. She plopped down on her chair.

The railgun prototype, while promising from a purely technological standpoint, wouldn’t be practical for her situation. She’d stripped a bunch of wires of their plastic coating, trimmed them, and twisted them into two six inch long bundles. She’d attached five layers of tape for insulation on the old motherboard, then secured the wire bundles on top of them. This is not going to work. The motherboard is the sturdiest thing I have for now, and it’s way too unwieldy.

–The magnetic forces that would propel the projectile would also act on the rails. In addition, the projectile would travel along those rails at high speeds.–

What I have now won’t work. The rails aren’t secured properly. And the friction from the shot would destroy the bundles. My time is better spent on other stuff. This is a last resort kind of gadget. I haven’t even gotten a power source or trigger mechanism yet.

She pushed her prototype aside and pulled out the rest of her materials. Finding them hadn’t been too hard. People left batteries around everywhere, they just happened to be in appliances. She’d stripped half of the wiring out of her bathroom lighting. God, that was stupid dangerous. I hate working with live wires like that. But the best discovery she’d made by far was the half used roll of silver duct tape.

The problem was what she needed to do with those materials. She’d patched together the beginnings of an EMP device that could take out almost any electrical system in the general area of the house. Other than that, she had no direction, no end goal other than escape. I’m spinning my wheels. I’ve spent all my time getting materials, rather than figuring out what to do with those materials. I’ve got no plan or gadget worth talking about.

She slouched further into her chair and rubbed her temples. One problem at a time. How do I get out? What types of transportation are available to me? Easy, walking or driving. Walking is an absolute last ditch scenario. So driving it is.

New problem: how do I get a car? I could steal the keys. Easy. Keep it simple, stupid.

New problem: what if the unexpected happens? Just driving out is too easy. I need to analyze the situation. Find the keys, and find any security features around them and the cars. She prepared a mental checklist. The cars are in the garage. What kind of security do they have? Are there cameras inside? Guards? Fail safes? Lockdowns? I need to find ways around those.

New problem: What about the gatehouse on the edge of the property? How would I get past that? Walking over there would tip Mother and Father off. The guards probably have orders to keep me here. The house staff had been decidedly neutral towards Amanda. They went about their business quickly and quietly, and Amanda’s father controlled their paychecks. She had no doubts as to where their loyalties lay. I need a way to force that gate open.

New problem: What if I get stopped and they start asking questions? I’m a terrible liar. I need a way to defend myself. Maybe I should give that railgun more thought. But what am I going to do with that? Shoot someone? She glanced at her bathroom where her pills waited. Her abs burned as she tried to sit up straighter in her chair.

A sigh escaped her lips. Maybe I can make a taser. Something that’s not meant for shooting people. She checked over her things. I’ve got enough power. It’ll have to be a direct contact thing, rather than a gun. The only other thing missing right now that I can see is a way to switch it on and off. That shouldn’t be too bad.

New problem: what about people? The taser should be a last resort. How do I deal with all the security here? How do I make sure that no one sees me when I escape? Last time I just bluffed my way out to a friend waiting outside. No one on staff questioned me. I don’t have that luxury this time. Father will be suspicious and so will the staff. I need to keep their eyes on something else.

That’s the oldest trick in the book, though. No self-respecting security team would have all their attention on what could be a decoy. Just incapacitate them all? How? This is something I need to figure out. I’ll look for opportunities tomorrow when I check out the garage.

Amanda suppressed a yawn. Her clock only read 10:00 PM. No, I’ve been sleeping too much lately. No. She couldn’t suppress a second yawn. Her eyelids felt heavy, and her bed looked awfully comfy. It’s not as though I can get much done right now. Not that I got much done now.

She packed up her things and put the box back on its shelf. Several pills later, she flicked off the lights and flopped onto her bed.

Maybe I’m over thinking this. Maybe I could just ask to leave. But if I do that they’ll ask where I’d go. And then what am I supposed to say? I’m going to join those guys they think kidnapped me? And I’d be more surprised if they haven’t found that house I was renting in Westward. They’ll just flat out tell me no. They won’t even let me near a phone or computer.

She curled up further under her blanket.

What are the others doing? Are they even alright? No one mentioned anyone but me needing medical attention. I wonder if Rob still has my car. Did he ever get that grenade thing he was working on to work? He was still tinkering with that even as we were packing up to leave.

She gradually drifted off to sleep.

***

Breakfast the next day was accompanied by forced conversation with her parents to keep them off her back. After a half hour of Amanda’s one word answers, her father disappeared into his office while her mother left for some social event of hers.

With the coast all clear, Amanda walked over to the garage. She’d never actually seen her parents drive themselves, they had people for that. As such, Amanda had always gotten odd looks from the staff whenever she wandered off to the basement when she was younger. That’ll teach me for trying to get to know them.

She didn’t exactly try to hide, now, but she didn’t advertise her presence. She walked with as much purpose as she could muster; standing up straight kind of hurt. Garage opens up to the back of the house. The chauffeurs drive the cars up to the front whenever we need to get somewhere. She came upon a large and heavy white door. Should be this one.

She pushed open the door with her shoulder, not wanting to put strain on her stomach.  An overhead light flicked on as it registered her movement. Five cars filled the expansive garage. There was room for a sixth, the one that Mother had taken into town. Amanda headed further into the garage, letting the door shut behind her.

Keys hung from hooks on the wall, just to the left of the door and above a tool chest and a crowbar. Oh, well, that’s easy enough. What do we have? She passed over the two large, black SUV’s. Why do government and mercenary spooks always go for those kind of cars? She also passed over the sleek sports car that probably cost more than most peoples’ homes. Too obvious. And Father would scorch the earth if I stole that.

The two remaining cars were still expensive, but not ‘the GDP of a small island nation’ expensive. Damn it, why don’t they have a Tesla? I would steal the shit out of a Tesla with no regrets. Either one would work, she wasn’t picky about normal cars.

No way in hell it’s this easy. She looked around the garage. If there were cameras, they were well hidden. The rough, whitewash walls were uniform, no dark discolorations to indicate a normal size camera hole. That wasn’t to say there wasn’t a tiny camera watching her right at that moment, but given the fact that they left the keys out, security didn’t seem concerned about potential threats from inside the house. Mother and Father don’t want to be watched in their own home, I guess I can’t argue with that.

She noted a large grey metal box on the ground in the corner of the garage, by the exit. What is this? She walked over and leaned down to inspect it. Her fingers ran over a small stamp on the side. It’s a motor of some kind. For what? The box resisted all of her attempts to open it. She couldn’t even find any screws. Well, it’s electric, if that voltage on the side is any indication. I can knock it out.

One last sweep of the garage yielded nothing new. She exited the garage and nearly collided with a passing guard the instant she stepped back into the house.

“Whoa!” Confusion clouded his face for a moment before he recognized her. “Oh. Excuse me, ma’am.” He nodded to her as he rushed by. Something about him caught Amanda’s eye.

Earpieces! I can mess with those. How did I not think of them before? How many times have I burned out batteries and USB ports? She felt a smile form on her face as the guard turned a corner and vanished from sight. I think I found my distraction.

Amanda rushed into her room. After locking it and pulling out her materials, she sat down and rubbed her hands together.

Energy shock tuned to the guards’ earpieces. That will make them overheat and probably catch fire. Since that’s something burning inside their heads, that will mess them up very quickly. That will also mess with their communication. They’ll assume they’re under attack, because why wouldn’t they? That’s a very deliberate action, not a freak malfunction. This place is meant to be a fortress, not a prison. They’re focused on external threats, not internal tampering.

I can use the EMP right after to nuke any lockdown mechanisms they have. The confusion will give me a chance to slip into the garage, steal a car, and get out. I’ll keep the EMP range to just the house. I need the gate motor working to get out. I’ll only have a problem once I reach the gatehouse. Smaller energy shock? Taser? Why not both?

I think I can do this. She grabbed a thin wire, pinched it with her pliers, and began wrapping it around the tip. This transistor is going to be slapdash as hell, but it only needs to work once.

***

It took her until the evening of the next day, but by then she was ready. She’d swiped an unused power strip from a storage closet and still had every outlet in her room plugged in. The three devices she’d made were the most cobbled together and rickety things she’d ever created, but they worked as much as she could tell when she test them in secrecy.

The taser was a little handheld thing meant for jabbing, not a gun. But she’d tweaked two standard batteries, wired them to an amplifier she’d made out of more wire and scavenged components, and finally to electrodes at the end. The whole setup was firmly taped to a wooden ruler.

Not the sturdiest thing, but it’s not exactly meant to be a knife, either. It’s meant more for poking. It’s only got enough charge for two or three hits, too. This is a last resort. She hooked it to her belt.

The two other devices were sprawling messes of coiled multicolored wires and tape, centered around the few circuit boards she had available, on the white carpet.

The energy generator she’d tested on a few small batteries she’d dug out of her clock. They’d burst into flame nearly instantly, but she’d been ready with a soaking towel before the smoke could get anywhere near the smoke detectors. The test a success, she’d extended the range and power of the device. All she had to do now was plug it in.

The EMP was smaller and more manageable than the other gadget. She’d made enough of them to be able to cobble one together in her sleep. She’d also hardened nearly anything she made against them for years, so her taser, barring any fuck ups, would work as planned.

That’s that. Amanda took one last look at the note she’d written for her parents on her desk. Mother and Father are having private time right now. They’ll be nice and flustered. She picked up the final cable for the energy pulse and plugged it in.

Silence reigned in her room for a moment. The batteries of her taser started to warm. Then she heard a yell, followed by another. There it is.

She hit the EMP’s trigger, the on/off switch she’d torn out of her bathroom, a few seconds later. A hum filled the air, then promptly died. The lights stayed on, as well as the energy pulse. Oh no. The batteries of her taser warmed even more. She yanked the energy pulse’s plug.

Do or die. Gotta move. She grabbed her backpack and rushed out, closing the door to her room behind her. The rest of the house was chaos. Frantic shouts and screams filled the air. A couple guards, out of their traditional dark suits, rushed past her and towards her parents’ room. Amanda ran down the stairs and towards the basement.

Not all of them had earpieces in. Damn it.

“Lock it down, lock it down!” someone bellowed elsewhere in the house. Shit. Fuck. Son of bitch.

She reached the basement as an alarm sounded, a red blinking light that filled the house, along with a sharp high pitched tone. A small fire licked at the walls, abovea broken earpiece. Other than a small smear of blood on the wall, there was no sign of its former owner. Shit. Nothing I can do about that now. She ran to the garage.

An arm stopped her. She let out small scream. The arm spun her around, and she found herself face to face with a guard.

“Ma’am, what are you doing?” he asked, blood trickling down from his ear.

Uh. “I think… something upstairs,” she said in desperation, pointing behind her.

“Get somewhere safe,” said the guard, rushing off to where she’d pointed.

Amanda blinked. That worked! She reached the garage without any more encounters. Once inside, she grabbed the keys and hopped into a car. She hit the button of the garage door opener as she started the engine. The garage door lifted to reveal another set of dark metal doors. Shit, lockdown. I don’t have time for this.

She jumped back out of the car and stared at the doors for a moment. What… that weird box in the corner by the door! Maybe that. She ran over to it.

It hummed beneath her hands. It’s way too small to be a motor for those doors. A maintenance thing? Whatever. Her probing hands couldn’t find any way in, just like last time. It’s got to be connected to something. Her eyes lit up. It’s probably connected to something in the wall. And this is just drywall right here. The armor is on the outside.

Amanda grabbed a crowbar and swung it at the wall above the box. Her stomach screamed in protest. Two more swings and she had opened up a hole large enough for her to see into.

She caught her breath for a moment while the pain subsided, then looked in. OK, OK, focus. How does this work?

Her power buzzed, blitzing her with information. No, I need to… oh! Reverse the signal. She grabbed a couple wires between the box and wall and yanked them free.

Please work. She shoved one back in the place of another, then took two and tapped the exposed ends together. Come on, come on. The motor hummed, and the thick emergency doors began to rise. Fuck yeah.

She scrambled to the car. The heavy metal doors had rose to about half the car’s height, far too slowly for her taste. She beat her hands against the car wheel. Behind her, the door to the garage opened. Nope. She slammed her foot on the accelerator and barreled out of the garage.

She headed towards the back entrance. As her headlights fell on the guardhouse, a guard came out, gun drawn. Amanda pulled to a stop and readied her taser.

The woman approached the door as Amanda rolled down her window. She lowered her gun once she saw who was driving.

“What the hell?” the guard asked. “What’s going on?” She leaned over, one hand on the roof of the car, the other on door.

Amanda waved her free hand in front of her. “Well, there was, uh,” she stalled. A green light appeared on her taser, out of sight of the guard. She jabbed it at the woman’s hand. The woman went down, spasming.

That’s one guard. Amanda got out of the car, taser hid behind her back. She leaned over the fallen guard.

“What the fuck?” yelled the second guard as he rushed out of the guardhouse.

“She just collapsed.”

“Out of the way,” said the guard, brushing Amanda aside and leaning over the woman. Perfect. Amanda jabbed her taser into his neck. He, too, went down. Now I just need to get that gate open. I got those garage doors open, these won’t be that bad.

***

Amanda pulled into the alleyway. She needed to ditch the car before the police came looking for it. They probably were already. I hope Rob got that message, otherwise I’m walking. I can’t believe there were only enough coins in the car for one call.

Something large passed by overhead as she got out of the car.

“Amanda!” cried out Olivia as she landed in front of her with arms outstretched.

“Gentle, gentle.” Olivia crouched down and wrapped her arms around Amanda’s shoulders in a firm hug, rather than her traditional bone shattering one. She seems taller. Amanda returned her hug. Her hand scraped against something hard on Olivia’s back.

Before she could ask what that was, Olivia said, “I missed you so much. Where were you? Are you OK?” Olivia released her and tilted her head to the side.

“I’m fine. It’s a long story.”

A large truck pulled up behind Amanda. She spun around. Rob grinned as he poked his head out of the window. “That’s a really nice car,” he said.

<- Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ->

Next Side Story ->

Loaded – Spider

The car rolled to a stop at the gate near the base of the hill. A security guard waved it through after a quick look at the occupants. Amanda couldn’t see very well through the tinted windows at night, but this was a drive she’d made many times before. The heavy atmosphere within the car was one she was all too familiar with as well.

She’d gotten into three fights in as many days in her elementary school, some private school affair with uniforms and other rich kids. In her early teens, she’d decided to use her power to go into electrical engineering. That had resulted in a rather public fight with her father outside the Academy. And once more after graduation, when she’d told him under no uncertain terms she wouldn’t work for Lock Corp.

Each and every time the drive up the hill to their house was the same. Mother avoided all eye contact, instead preferring to fuss with her makeup. Father just stared out the tinted windows with a scowl he didn’t hide nearly as well as he seemed to think. Other than him occasionally snapping at the driver to go faster, they’d said had nothing since landing at the airport an hour ago.

After the magic the doctor had worked on her earlier that evening, Father had insisted that the hospital release Amanda into his own care. His entourage of imposing men and women in dark suits had helped convince the hospital staff that it wasn’t worth the trouble arguing with him. Before Amanda knew it, she had been shepherded into the family jet and flown back to Westward City.

Amanda slouched in her seat on the far side of the car from her parents and tapped on her thigh. She pointedly looked out the window and away from them. They hadn’t given her a phone, and she hadn’t gotten the chance to get to a computer. Can’t contact anyone. They probably think I have Stockholm Syndrome or something.

The car approached the sprawling, two story house. From what Amanda could see, it was still exactly the same house she’d run away from one year ago. The grey tiled roof jutted high up into the night sky. Bright lights along the walls lit up the grounds around the house. When viewed from the air, it formed an H, with two large wings on both sides, and the front door in the central section.

The walls themselves appeared as unassuming adobe, but Amanda knew that a tank would be hard pressed to shoot through them. An executive in a notorious mercenary company, and a founding member at that, made enemies. They were part of the reason Amanda never talked about her family. Damn security team. Couldn’t slip away. Hell, even if I was healthy I couldn’t. They probably have orders to keep me away from a computer, too.

They finally reached the front door of the house. The car rolled to a smooth stop. The driver got out and opened the doors for Amanda’s family in the back.

“Welcome home, sir,” the driver said as Amanda’s father got out. Father simply strode off to the house without a word.

The driver walked over to Amanda’s side of the car, opened the door, and offered her a hand. She considered not taking it before the memory of lancing pain in her stomach convinced her otherwise. The doctor had told her to not put undue stress on her core muscles. The magic he’d done had not healed her perfectly.

She suppressed a sigh, the man was only doing his job after all. After grabbing her backpack, she let him help her get out of the car.

“Welcome back, Miss Lafitte,” he said, his face neutral.

“Thank you.” He’s just doing his job. No need to be an ass like Father. She joined her mother, who’d waited for her near the car door. Together they followed Father into house.

Father’s boots clomped on the hardwood floors of the kitchen beyond the cavernous foyer. The large chandelier overhead glinted as it illuminated the whole room.

“Welcome home, honey. Your room is just as you left it,” said her mother, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

Just as I left it? Seriously? You two didn’t go through my things? I would have thought Father would have thrown a bunch of stuff into storage or something as punishment after he read that note.

They heard a muttered curse from Father in the kitchen. “We’ll talk more tomorrow, OK? Good night.” She released Amanda after a squeeze and followed Father into the kitchen.

Amanda stayed silent, unable to muster up the energy to reply. May as well see what my room looks like.

She ascended the staircase to the second floor and stopped at the first door on her right. The closed door loomed before her. I never thought I’d see this room again. One deep breath later, she opened the door.

The poster of Nikola Tesla still hung above her scuffed and scorched metal desk, which under the window on the far side of the room. The bookshelf at the foot of her bed was still loaded with textbooks and a few circuit boards, simple little things she’d made when she was nine and had first discovered her power.

As far as she could tell, nothing had been moved, but as she walked in she realized it hadn’t exactly been sealed for the last year. One thing that stuck out to her was the lack of dust. Her bed was neater than it had ever been before as well. Did they tell housekeeping to keep this place clean?

She opened up her closet to the left of the entrance. All my clothes are here, too. Mother wasn’t lying.

A yawn caught her by surprise. It’s probably almost midnight. Why the hell am I still awake? Wait. Pills. How could I forget? Painkillers might wear off soon. She shrugged off her backpack as she headed into the attached bathroom.

She withdrew the pills from her backpack and set the eight dark orange bottles on the counter. What were the ones I’m supposed to take at night? She consulted a slip of paper she’d written back at the hospital for this exact scenario. Pro-biotic, painkiller, and anti-coagulant? Right, yeah. These other ones are for before and after eating. At least I’m not craving morphine right now.

She took her pills, undressed, and dropped onto her old bed. I need to get out of here. History will repeat itself, no matter how nice Mother is now. Just… how? It’s not like the guards are just going to let me out the front gate. Sleep took her not long after her head hit the pillow.

***

A sharp spike of pain in her gut snapped Amanda awake. Her attempt at bolting straight upright in her bed only intensified it, stealing the breath she would have otherwise used to scream. She rolled out of bed instead, blanket still wrapped around her. She managed to half walk, half crawl to the bathroom.

The painkiller bottle rattled in her hand as she fumbled with the cap. She downed two pills without water and collapsed on the floor to catch her breath.

What the fuck? The pain faded, though far too slowly for her taste. What the fuck? That was… what? She pushed herself upright with her arms, back resting against the sink.

Those pills last twelve hours, right? She grabbed the bottle from where she’d left it on the ground and read the label. Yeah, two pills is twelve hours. How long was I asleep?

Once the pills did their job well enough for her to think and breathe clearly, she grabbed the counter to hoist herself to her feet. She staggered out to her room. The sun shone bright through the closed blinds. She spun the alarm clock on her desk towards her. Three in the afternoon? I slept for that long?

She sat back down on her bed. I’m not fully healed am I? Did the magic wear off? I don’t know how magic works, he could have turned me into a newt for ten minutes for all I know. Fuck, I thought I was at least a little better than this.

A minute passed. Stomach still aches a bit. Must have been magic stuff holding that off last night. She sighed. Shower. Eat. Figure out where to go from here. One long shower and a couple more pills later, Amanda found herself in front of her open closet.

I wonder if anything in here still fits. It’s only been a year. She found change of clothes, her fears of them not fitting were unfounded, and walked downstairs with a grumbling stomach. Let’s see if there’s anything I can eat. I think it’s just oatmeal for now, though. Oh, fruit smoothies. Those aren’t that bad.

She stopped halfway down the staircase. The sound of her parents talking in the kitchen drifted up to her.

“… sleeping for too long. We should at least check on her,” said Mother.

“She’s fine. She needs her rest is all,” replied Father.

A pause. “I’m just worried. She’s so angry. She barely talked to either of us the whole way here.”

“She’s young. We all do stupid things when we’re young. I can set her up with a good position in the company. If she wants to be her own woman and work her way up, then she doesn’t have to be in management or anything like that.” No, no, no. So close, but you don’t understand. You still don’t understand.

“That didn’t work last time. She’ll want to run off soon as she can.”

“She’s a smart young lady. She’ll come around,” said Father.

Amanda closed her eyes, sat down on a step, and tuned out the rest of the conversation. I want to be an engineer. I like engineering. I don’t want to join a soulless mercenary corporation. I said this to you, to both of you. Why don’t you listen?

Her stomach growled again, reminding her that she couldn’t sit on that step forever. She made her way down the rest of the staircase, turned the corner, and found herself in the kitchen.

The expansive granite topped island dominated the room. Her parents occupied two of the four bar stools on its right side, across from the kitchen proper. Sleek grey metal appliances gleamed all around. The double oven, the wide fridge, and the stove all looked spotless. Amanda headed to the fridge.

“Good morning, or afternoon, honey,” said her father.

“Did you sleep well, honey? How are you feeling?” asked her mother.

“Hi. Uh, my stomach was giving me some trouble when I woke up,” replied Amanda as she opened the fridge. Oh, I can have some stuff in here. Huh. I don’t remember them drinking smoothies before.

“We’ve hired a private doctor. She can make sure you’re healing well,” said Father.

Amanda shrugged. I’m definitely not healed yet. She leaned against the counter, facing her parents.

“We’ve been thinking that maybe you should see a counselor. We’ve already found one,” said Mother.

Amanda blinked. “For what?” she asked.

“We’re just concerned, honey,” said Mother.

“Why would you think I need counseling?” Amanda asked. Now what?

“We’re just concerned,” repeated Mother.

“We think you could use it. Nearly dying is never a fun experience, believe me,” said her father. She couldn’t argue that last point, she knew he’d served in the military and had seen action.

“I’m fine. Head space wise.”

“We still think it would be best for you to see this counselor.” Wait a minute.

“Why? Are you two still convinced I have Stockholm Syndrome?” asked Amanda, setting her drink aside on the counter behind her.

Footsteps approached, cutting off whatever her parents were about to say. “Excuse me, sir. Mr. Schrader is here,” said the man in the dark suit as he approached.

“Already? Let him in, let him in,” said Father, waving the guard away. The man spun on his heels and left at a brisk pace.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Father said to Amanda. “This will be one of them. Now, we have a guest.” The front door creaked ever so slightly as it opened.

Her parents got up. “Come on, Amanda. Don’t hide,” said her mother.

If I don’t go, they’ll just call me out anyways. And then there will be hell to pay later. Amanda sighed to herself and followed.

“Hello, Jeremy!” said Father, a wide smile on his face. He extended a hand.

The tall, thin man took Father’s hand and shook it without expression. “Hello, Mr. Lafitte,” he replied with a completely inflectionless voice.

“Ah, and this is my family. I don’t believe you’ve met them.”

“I have not.”

“This is my wife, Linda, and my daughter, Amanda,” said Father, motioning to each in turn.

Mother smiled and accepted Schrader’s handshake. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Schrader.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Amanda’s skin crawled as he faced her next.

She shook his hand in silence, not trusting herself to say a word. His skin felt like sandpaper.

“I understand you were injured recently,” said Schrader.

“Uh, yeah. Yes. Some robots shot me.”

“Robots?”

“Yeah. I think they were Overlord drones or something. I don’t know how that street gang got hold of them, but they were there.” Please let go of my hand.

Schrader nodded and released her hand. He doesn’t blink. Why doesn’t he blink?

“How’s life been treating you?” asked Father, breaking the silence.

“Well enough. I have been busy. We have several large projects coming up very soon.”

“Of course. Business. Linda, Amanda, please excuse us. Would you like a drink, Jeremy?” her father asked as he led Schrader away towards his office.

“No thank you.”

They closed the office door behind them.

“Amanda, why don’t you go upstairs?” asked her mother.

“I think I’m just going to-”

Her mother grabbed Amanda’s arm and whispered into her ear, “You don’t understand. Stay as far away from that man as you can. Whatever it is they’re talking about in there, you don’t want to know. I don’t want to know. Please, go upstairs until he’s gone.”

“OK, OK,” said Amanda. She wrested her arm from her mother’s grip and went upstairs. Mother watched her until she reached her room.

Amanda collapsed on the chair in front of her desk. I have to get out of here. But how? I don’t have any of my tools, I don’t have the time, or a place to work without my parents knowing. She sighed. No. I am not helpless. Take stock. I’m an engineer. I can engineer my way out of this.

She’d taken a lot of her stuff with her when she’d run away, but some things she’d left behind. The boxes under her bed were good place to start. She grabbed and opened a small box from below. A couple small magnets lay at the bottom. OK, not terribly helpful.

She remembered the larger box she pulled out next. Inside was a cracked motherboard for a seven year old computer and a small flashlight. Why is this flashlight in here? She flicked the on switch. The light briefly sputtered to life before cutting out. I think I used this for looking into old computers and stuff. I could never tell what was going on with the circuit boards otherwise.

–The bulb is dead, as well as the batteries.–

OK, also not terribly helpful.She tossed the flashlight into the trashcan to the right of her desk.

The rest of the boxes were similar in that there was a reason she had left them there. She found a couple more cracked circuit boards, one with a hole melted in the middle. The only things she did find were a pair of rusty old needle nose pliers and a box of scrap metal.

She moved on. The textbooks on her bookshelf, while interesting, she’d read before.  The old, simple circuits she’d made when she was a child littered the shelves. They were still usable, though for what she wasn’t quite sure. You never know. She grabbed a couple of them.

She arrayed her materials on her bed. A couple simple or broken circuit boards, some scrap metal, and a box of magnets.

Maybe I can do something with this. What else could I use these magnets for besides wiping computers? That might be useful. But I could use an EMP for that. Unless there’s a Faraday cage worked into the house. Father was using his phone though.

She separated one of the magnets from the others to examine it. The clump of the others followed. She smiled. Railguns! Yeah. I just need to put this between two long enough sheets of metal and put a current through them. Her power kicked in.

–Disregarding superpowers, energy is conserved. The kinetic energy of the railgun does not come from nowhere. You don’t have nearly enough power to make a railgun effective.–

Batteries. And even an EMP needs power. Maybe I could access and manipulate the electrical system of the house. I’m not helpless here. There were bound to be other materials around the house, batteries included. Wires in rarely used appliances, bits of metal no one would notice if they vanished, all were possibilities. Let’s see what I can do.

<- Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ->

Loaded – Westward

Ben’s car jolted from a sharp dip in the road. Olivia’s head smacked into the roof, waking her up for the hundredth time that day. She sighed. I hate this. I hate this so much.

“You OK back there?” asked Miya from the front passenger seat.

“I’m OK,” lied Olivia. She adjusted her spread and twisted her wings as best she could, cramped as they were in the back of the car. At least I have the back seat to myself. She leaned back as much as her curled tail would let her. I still hate backrests.

“Don’t worry, we’re only fifteen minutes out,” said Ben, driving on the outskirts of Westward city.

Olivia double checked the blinds on the windows of the back of the car, making sure no one out in the midday sun could see inside the car, at least not the back portion where she sat. Miya and Ben looked normal, they didn’t have to worry about a passing glance. Must be nice to not have to deal with wings.

Everyone had agreed to put as much distance between them and Phoenix as possible. They had made it all the way to Westward, stopping only when Olivia nearly fell out of the sky from lack of sleep. Even with the loud noises and cramped space of the car, Olivia managed to nod off for most of the trip.

She adjusted the headphone in her ear. Miya had helped her with streaming music on her phone when she’d first joined Miya and Ben in the car. There’s so much music out there! Maybe I should get a book or something, too. Might be fun with music.

She peeked out the window. Familiar brown and green mountains rose before her, the snow on the tallest peaks in the distance had melted in the month since she’d last seen them. I should fly around in the mountains more. They were nice and quiet.

On the other side of the car was a tan truck. Followed by another tan truck. And another. And another. Then there were massive blocks. Why aren’t their tires moving? Olivia noticed the railroad beneath them. Oh, I’m dumb. Never mind.

“What is that?” she asked, pointing to the massive train.

“The train convoy thing on our right?” asked Miya. “We were just talking about that.”

“Yeah,” added Ben. “Looks like a whole armored battalion. Were a ton of tanks earlier.”

“Where are they going?”

Ben shrugged. “I dunno. Look new, not sure why they’re way the fuck out here. That shit alone could probably take all of Iraq.” Huh.

Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into a familiar lot behind the closed auto shop that was their lair. Tall, cloth covered fences obscured the view of anyone who might have been outside.

“Oh man, don’ look like anyone tried to break in while we were gone,” said Ben as he parked next to Rob’s truck. Rob himself pulled up behind him in Amanda’s car.

“Yeah, from here,” commented Miya. “Wait until we get inside.” Olivia scrambled toward the door of the car and spread her wings the moment they were free. Oh thank god. She returned her headphones to her pocket and stretched.

“Holy shit, nothin’ went wrong,” said Ben, stepping out of his own car. “Cars didn’t break down or anythin’.”

“I know, it’s weird. No one shot at us either,” replied Chris as he cracked his neck. That’s… that’s a good thing. Just accept it.

“We’re not inside yet,” added Miya.

Rob draped himself over the grille of his truck, murmuring, “Shh. It’s OK baby, Rob is back. I’ll wash off the bird shit, don’t worry.” What… whatever.

Olivia followed Ben to the entrance, ducking low to fit through the door once he unlocked it. A rotting smell hit her immediately. It almost smells like a dumpster in here. One of the bad ones.

“What the hell? You smell somethin’ off?” said Ben as he waved a hand in front of his nose. His other hand flipped a light switch. No lights came on. “Fuck, need to restart the generators, too. Looks like everythin’s in place, though.”

“You smell it too?” asked Olivia. What is this? You guys can never smell anything.

“Yeah, the fuck?” He poked his head over the top of an empty trash can by the door. Not that, that doesn’t smell like the source. “Ain’t the trash. We left in a hurry after ya. May have left somethin’ in the fridge?”

Ben walked over to the aforementioned unplugged fridge and opened the door. The stench of rot worsened. Olivia gagged and blinked away tears as her eyes watered.

“Fuck. Not somethin’. Everythin’. Fuck.” He slammed the door shut and shouted out to the others, “Who the fuck forgot to empty out the fridge before we left?”

“What’d you say? And what’s that smell?” asked Miya as she walked in with her bags. Olivia wrinkled her nose. OK, I need some fresh air.

“We left everythin’ in the fridge for the last month. We got a bunch of rottin’ fruits an’ some bad milk an’ shit,” replied Ben.

“Who forgot to empty it?” asked Miya.

“Tha’s what I was askin’.”

Olivia ducked back through the door to the reasonably fresh air outside. She shook her head a bit, as if that would get the residual smell out of her nostrils. Rob was doing something in the cabin of his truck while Chris wrestled with some bags in the back of Amanda’s car. It feels nicer out here anyways. I don’t see any clouds, too. She smiled as she walked over to help Chris with some bags. Finally back home.

***

They spent several hours getting settled back into the lair. The fridge they scrubbed and sprayed air freshener. The generator started working again without a hitch, and from what they could tell from the local news the cops in Colorado weren’t looking for them specifically.

It looks just like I remember it. In the center of the auto shop were six curtained off portions, with their clothes they hadn’t taken with them to Texas and Arizona. I don’t have to cycle through the same two sets of clothes anymore! I think I have four or five now. Their equipment was on the far side from where Olivia sat, along with Rob and Amanda’s work areas.

Olivia fished the last slice of ham out of the cold cuts packet on the table in front of her. Rob worked on his armor off in a corner across the lair. Beneath the metal armor slabs lay a complex web of wires and gears, each of which he oiled and polished. Miya munched on a sandwich at the table across from Olivia.

The only thing missing was Amanda. Her desk and chair sat empty, the computers gone or powered off. She’ll be back soon. She just has to heal some. But she hasn’t texted us or anything, though.

Olivia finished the packet and wadded the plastic up. Maybe I can get it this time. She tossed the wad at the trashcan ten feet away, near the fridge. It bounced off the rim and into the can, joining two others like it.

“Yeah!” Finally!

“Third time’s the charm,” said Miya, a small smirk on her face.

Rob let out a prolonged groan from his corner. Olivia glanced at Miya, who just shrugged. He got up and walked over to the fridge. At least that thing doesn’t smell as bad. The whole lair is kind of aired out, too.

“Fuck it, I’ll finish it later. Hungry.” He checked the fridge. “Wait, where’d all the ham an’ stuff I bought go?”

“Little Miss Apex Predator beat you to it,” Miya called out over her shoulder. Sorry. Wait, no, I’m not sorry. I was hungry. I’m still kind of hungry.

“Damn it.” He walked over and plopped down on a spare chair next to Olivia. “Anythin’ fun happenin’ over here?”

“Not really,” said Miya. “I think Ben and Chris should be back soon.”

“Chris is actually twenty one, he don’t need a fake ID or anythin’, right?” What does that have to do with anything?

“Yeah. You and Ben are twenty now, right?”

“Yep. Still got one more year.”

Miya sighed. “Hush, you. I’m only eighteen. I’ve got two and a half years to go.”

Two and a half years until what? “What happens at twenty one?” asked Olivia.

“That’s when you can legally buy alcohol,” said Miya. “Wait, you knew they were going out to get alcohol.”

“Yeah, but… I don’t know. I didn’t think you’d have to be old enough to buy something.”

“Yeah, it’s all ‘bout protectin’ the children. Mind you, a little kid or even a preteen shouldn’t be drinkin’, but we ain’t exactly that young anymore.”

“Getting too old for this shit,” muttered Miya. Eighteen isn’t old. Oh, wait, that was the joke.

“Exactly,” said Rob with a nod. Gravel crunched as a car pulled into the parking lot out back.

“Oh, they’re here,” she said.

A moment later Chris opened the door, laden with boxes.

“We have slain the mighty alcohol beast,” exclaimed Ben behind him. The bottles in the cardboard box he carried rattled against one another as he set the box down on the table.

They distributed the bottles, along with cups and shot glasses. Rob grabbed the leftover alcohol they’d had stored from last time. A ton of different smells filled the air, none of them too appealing. They all seem to like it, though.

“You want a beer, Chris?” asked Rob, offering him a bottle as he sat down.

“No thanks. I don’t drink horse piss.”

“Oh. Is that so?” replied Rob. He took a sip from his own bottle.

“Put your mouth around the horse’s cock, why don’t you?” said Chris, face and tone deadpan as he leaned back further in his chair to Olivia’s left. Chris? Olivia felt her face twist in an ill-concealed look of distaste. God, that’s disgusting.

Rob gagged and set his beer on the table. He stared at it for a moment, then looked back at Chris. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

“OK. If you want to keep drinking that golden liquid, then by all means, go right ahead.” Chris grabbed his shot glass. “Or, alternatively, you could quit being a pussy.” He downed his shot. Why are you being so mean?

“Sorry I can’t drink straight liquor. Fuck that shit.”

A smile hovered on Chris’s face as he said, “Sucks to suck.” Miya snorted in laughter.

“You want somethin’ to drink, ‘liv?” asked Ben, a grin on his face.

“Wait, she’s way underage. Fifteen, right?” asked Miya. Olivia nodded. I think I’m fifteen. That’s what everyone keeps saying, anyways.

Ben snorted. “When’s the first drink you had?”

“Uh, I think I was… fifteen? Yeah.” Miya blinked. “Wait, yeah, I’m an idiot, ignore me.”

“Still kind of young,” said Chris.

“Yeah, an’ dragon metabolism. I dunno how the fuck that works.” Yeah, neither do I. “Besides, not gonna get her shitfaced or anythin’. Anyways, really up to you,” Ben said to Olivia.

“Do… do I have to?”

“No pressure, jus’ askin’. Safe environment an’ whatnot,” said Ben, raising a placating hand.

“Well, what is there?” Everyone seems to care about this. Rob and Miya exchanged glances at that. Chris’s eyebrows shot up. What’d I say?

“Well… We got rum, a couple flavors of vodka, horse piss,” said Ben, nudging Rob with his elbow as he reached for his bottle. Rob just sighed.

“We picked up a bottle of absinthe. I didn’t know that was legal,” added Chris.

“Yeah, we figured we’d give that a shot in a moment.”

Something smells like cinnamon. “Cinnamon?” asked Olivia.

“Cinnamon?” repeated Ben, head tilted.

“I think she means the Fireball,” said Chris.

“Oh, right. You sure? That’s whiskey,” asked Ben as he grabbed a small bottle with a red label.

“Well, what’s the proof?” asked Chris. Proof?

Ben searched the bottle. “Uh, 66. Not bad, but it might be a little strong.”

“Well, we’ll figure out if she doesn’t like liquor soon enough.”

“Um, proof?” asked Olivia.

“How much alcohol is in it?”

“But… I thought it was all alcohol.”

“Yeah, all of this stuff has alcohol in it, to varying degrees. Rum is fermented sugar stuff, wine is grapes, an’ so on. It all ferments to alcohol,” explained Ben.

“OK. I’ll try some.” Those cinnamon bun things were good. A cinnamon drink thing should taste good too, right?

Ben blinked. “Alright.” He grabbed a shot glass and filled it about one third of the way. “Word of warning, this’ll be a bit strong.”

Why is everyone looking at me? Olivia pulled her wings in. Is this such a big deal? She sniffed the shot. It doesn’t exactly smell bad. There’s a lot of cinnamon in it. I guess it’s OK. She took a sip and started coughing the moment the liquid hit her throat. “What the…” she gasped, mouth covered by her hand.

Everyone burst into laughter. Rob wove an arm under her wing and patted her on the back. “Easy,” he said, a wide grin on his face. She pushed the shot glass away.

“Why do you guys drink this stuff?” She shook her head. Ew, it’s got an aftertaste. Make it stop. Miya passed her a cup of water. Olivia nodded in thanks and drank. “Seriously. That stuff was just awful.”

“What, the burn?” asked Miya, struggling to suppress another laugh at Olivia’s expense.

“Burn? No, it just tasted… awful. Just awful.” Like… I don’t know. Chemical-y maybe. Dumpster food wasn’t that bad.

“If ya want a burn we got some Everclear.”

“No, no, no,” said Chris as he leaned forward again. He shook his head. “That’d be cruel. No.”

“Want to try a beer?” asked Rob. “Much less alcohol.”

No. It doesn’t smell good at all. “No thank you,” said Olivia. I think I’m fine.

“Well, speaking of tryin’ stuff, let’s try that absinthe,” Ben said to Chris. Why? Why? Why? Olivia just wrinkled her nose. “Maybe we’ll get some kickass hallucinations.”

“Pretty sure that’s a myth,” said Rob, sipping his beer.

“Shut up an’ get back to your horse piss,” said Ben as he unscrewed to top of a white glass jug. Olivia wrapped a wing around Rob. I’m sorry they’re so mean to you.

Ben filled two shot glasses and passed one to Chris. They clinked their glasses together and drank.

“So, how is it?” asked Rob after a moment. Probably awful.

“Meh,” said Ben.

“Wasn’t bad. Wasn’t worth the hype. There’s better stuff out there,” agreed Chris.

“Anyone else want a try?” asked Ben.

Olivia shook her head vigorously. Nope. Nope. “No thanks,” said Rob. “I think I’m addicted to horse piss now.”

Ben nodded. “So long as you’ve accepted it. You, Miya?”

“Sure.”

Ben poured and said, “Here you are. Careful.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Miya, her voice calm and even.

“Well, tiny an’ chick ain’t a good combo for alcohol.”

“I’ll make my own damn decisions, thank you very much.” Miya snatched the glass and drank it, glaring at Ben all the while. She grimaced. “This tastes like shit.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you guys,” exclaimed Olivia. Why do you guys keep doing that to yourselves? That stuff is awful.

“Yeah, fuck you guys an’ your liquor. Drink horse piss,” said Rob, a grin on his face.

Chris just shook his head. That beer stuff doesn’t smell very good either. I can’t believe cinnamon betrayed me. They settled into amicable silence for a moment, Rob grabbing another beer and Chris pouring himself another drink.

“What are we doing now?” asked Miya.

“What? You mean existentially? Who are we and where are we going in life, or just here and now?” replied Chris.

“When is Amanda going to be back?” asked Olivia.

“I called her earlier. Went straight to voicemail,” said Chris. “She’s with her parents, though, she’s fine.”

Rob frowned and shrugged under Olivia’s wing.

“Anyone wanna play poker?” he ventured.

Ben poked Miya in the face. “God damn it,” she muttered.

“I’m game,” said Chris. “Texas hold’em again?” Oh, I remember that. That sounds like fun.

***

A couple hours and lots of downed drinks later, Rob asked, “How do you fly, Olivia?”

Olivia looked up from her pair of cards. I… do? I… I just fly. “What… what do you mean?” Am I missing something?

“Like, how much do you weigh? If you look at, like, a bird or somethin’, they got big wingspans. An’ they weigh almost nothin’. I get your wings are big, but they ain’t that big. An’ compared to a bird, a human ain’t, uh, aerodynamic.”

Olivia answered, “I think they said I weighed two hundred and ninety pounds.” Miya coughed. “And I don’t know. I fly just fine.”

“What beer are you on, Rob?” asked Miya. What?

“Uh, seven. Yeah.”

“That explain it,” muttered Miya.

“What?” asked Rob.

“Nothing,” said Miya in a normal tone. Fine, you don’t want to explain. Whatever.

“Guys, got a game goin’ on,” said Ben, stifling a yawn.

Oh right. Olivia checked her hand and the table again. This didn’t go the way I hoped. She just folded. Every time I bluff they call it.

Rob tossed whatever the call was into the pot. Miya bit her lip for a moment, then called as well.

“Aces,” she said.

“Three of a kind,” said Rob with a grin.

“Beats me,” said Chris, passing his cards to Miya.

Rob raked in the pot. “Suck it.”

Miya’s eyes turned a solid dark red. Wait, what’s happening? She flicked Rob’s arm. He jumped in his seat. “Ow, the fuck?” he said, rubbing his arm where she’d flicked him.

“Heh,. Drunk magic is fun magic,” said Miya with a smile.

“Why do your eyes turn all red when you do magic stuff?” asked Olivia. Her eyes had nothing to do with flicking Rob, right? Why would they turn red?

Miya froze. “You can see that?”

“Her eyes turn red?” asked Rob. What?

Olivia blinked. “Yeah. You guys don’t see that?”

“No,” said Chris. “Not at all. The rest of us can’t use magic.” He paused for a moment. “Wait, let’s back up a moment. You see the magic stuff, whatever it is?”

“Yes,” said Olivia. Why is everyone looking at me like that?

“From what I understand, only people who can use magic can see it,” said Chris. Oh.

“Yes,” said Miya, waving a hand around vaguely. “She has a whole complex magical web thing already, but I figured that was, I don’t know, bio stuff or something.”

“So, I can use magic?” That sounds kind of cool. What can magic do?

“Maybe,” said Miya. “Probably. I dunno.”

“Doesn’t sound like a bad deal to me,” said Chris.

A snore caught their attention. Ben lay passed out on the table, two bottle caps pressed into his face and an empty shot glass still in hand. That looks super uncomfortable. How are you sleeping like that?

“Damn it, where’s a permanent marker?” asked Rob, looking around at the table.

Chris sighed as he got up. “No, let’s… let’s not.” He swayed on his feet a bit. “Thinking about passing out myself.”

Rob pointed to Ben. “But… but… fine.”

“Should we, um, put him in bed or something?” asked Olivia.

“Nah,” said Chris. “That looks comfy enough for a guy who drank himself to sleep.”

No that doesn’t. “But…”

“Might wake him up,” added Rob as he passed. Oh, I didn’t think about that. I guess.

Olivia shrugged and got to her feet to follow the others. Rob and Chris soon said their goodnights and drifted off to their own curtained off bedroom section things.

“You going to sleep too, Olivia?” asked Miya.

“No. I was going to fly around a little bit.”

“Cool. See ya tomorrow, then. We’ll get that magic stuff sorted out, too tired to do that right now.”

Olivia smiled. “OK. Good night.” I can see all the cool stuff in the city again! She stepped out into the night and took flight.

***

The next day started quietly enough. Olivia only woke up in the mid afternoon. Ben had moved to snoring on his own bed, and everyone else was out of the lair.

Olivia stretched out on her bed. Don’t wanna move. Too comfy. Light glinted off the small gold bars in her hand. So shiny.

The door opened and light footsteps approached. “Olivia, you there?” asked Miya.

Olivia shoved the gold bars back in her pocket. “Yes.”

Miya poked her head in through the curtain and asked, “Did you want to figure out that magic thing now?”

“Sure,” said Olivia as she got up to join her.

“Alright, I went to the library to research and pick up books on the subject. They might end up being worthless, but it doesn’t hurt to have them anyways.”

She and Olivia sat across from each other. A couple thick books lay strewn on the table between them.

“First we need to find your specialty. Now there are two ways you’ll see this referred to. If you look at older books in the Western tradition, the old three classes were life, alchemy, and spirit. Spirit was man, life was everything else, and alchemy was stuff that wasn’t alive. This came from… I dunno. Some old Greek mage, can’t pronounce his name. That’s not the point. The problem with that was that they don’t work. The classes didn’t mean much of anything. I can affect both humans and animal bones, for example.”

“So… what does that have to do with anything?”

“For reference, in case you stumble on anything that mentions those three. Mages tend to be old school. And in a lot of places you’ll still hear references to alchemy or spirit. This is just general information, you’ll need to do some research yourself.”

“Why?”

“This is gonna sound a little cliché, but the power comes from within. I can explain all day long to you, but you need to be able to grasp the concepts and channel the magic yourself. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. First we need to figure out if you even can, first. You’re half dragon, this is entirely unexplored territory here.”

Olivia nodded. I guess that makes sense. I’d like to know what I can do too. Nobody else seems to know.

“So, the modern classifications are biology, chemistry, and physics. People debate about psychology, whether that’s its own thing or not, but that’s pretty much a result of biology stuff. I fall within biology. And one thing to note is that you can’t really affect anything in the other two. I can’t do anything to non-biological things. The only exceptions are golems, but those are special cases. My magic needs a biological thing to travel through. It dissipates if it tries to go through anything else. Make sense?”

“I… maybe?”

“OK. The reason my specialty is bones is because bones conduct my magic best. I can affect non bone stuff, but it’s harder. The class means what kind of stuff the magic can affect.”

“So what is chemistry?” That seems vague.

“Kind of a misnaming thing. This book had a lot to say about it.” She tapped a book titled Applications of Scientific Principles in Magic. “I skimmed it but I got the gist. In magic, chemistry is causing reactions. Magic can tell between living and nonliving things, even if the living thing is dead. Don’t ask me how, it just does.”

“Oh, OK.” Olivia nodded for Miya to go on.

“There are a couple different major schools of magic all over the world. Each has different strengths. Magic is magic, no matter where you go, but different cultures developed different ways of doing things. I say major schools because some cultures emphasize magic more than others. According to this history book, the English magic tradition isn’t very strong because of both the wildfyre plagues and the bunch of iron on the islands. Also, Muslim countries don’t like magic. Only the extremists outright ban it, but there’s probably some passage in the Qur’an that could be interpreted as denouncing it or something. The book didn’t say, exactly.”

“So different people are good at different things?”

“Exactly. You’ve got Australian dream walkers, Congolese witch doctors, and so on. Norse mages are notorious for flash freezing their enemies and shattering them, literally. All sorts of stuff. Aztec magic, for example, is really good with bones, blood, and plagues.”

“Plagues? Why plagues?”

“That’s a good question.” Miya leafed through her book. “Aha, here it is. ‘Mesoamerican mages grew adept at fighting diseases, of both mundane and magical nature, due to the risk posed to them by the native wildfyre.’ Huh, didn’t know that. Anyways-”

Wait, don’t move on. “Um, wait. Mesoamerica?”

“Oh, yeah, Mexico is also called Mesoamerica. So yeah. The ones we’ll go over for now are Aztec, Scandinavian, and Tibetan. Aztec we’ll go over first because that’s what I’m good at and what I’ve learned. The Scandinavian and Tibetan schools are more based on a hunch of mine. Scandinavian techniques are good for heat manipulation, and Tibetan ones are good for air. Dragons breathe fire, and Rob is fairly confident you shouldn’t be able to fly if we just looked at you without magic, so air seems like a good thing to go over.”

“OK,” said Olivia.

“So,” said Miya. “Let’s get started.”

<- Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ->

Loaded – Morphine

Amanda drifted through a black haze. A burning sensation from her stomach managed to pierce through to her conscience. She screamed. Above her distant, urgent, and incomprehensible words were shouted. A warm feeling spread from her arm to the rest of her body. The pain lessened, allowing her to slip back into unconsciousness.

***

Amanda woke with a start. She pushed through the ache in her stomach to take in a huge gasp of air. Wha?

Her eyes shot open. A blurry light overhead blinded her for a moment as her eyes adjusted. Something to the side of her bed beeped. She lifted her head to look down on herself with squinting eyes and try to identify the source of the pain. A white bed sheet covered her up to her shoulders. When she lifted her arm to pull it back, the a couple needles taped to her arm tugged at her skin. Something white and plastic was clipped to her finger.

A featureless blob moved towards her. A woman asked, “Amanda, can you hear me?”

She blinked at the person in front of her, blurred from Amanda’s lack of glasses or contacts. Her dry throat and tongue kept her from replying immediately. She managed to croak, “Yes.”

Where am I? What happened? She tried to sit up a little further. Her stomach rewarded her with a lance of pain in her abdomen. “Ahhhahh,” was all she could manage, her voice not quite cooperating. She squeezed her eyes shut and lay back, trying to will the pain away.

“Easy, easy,” said the woman, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t try and sit up. Here.” A machine whirred below Amanda. Half of the bed tilted upwards to let her sit up by a few degrees. She cracked her eyes open once again and glanced at the blurry woman.

“Thanks. Where…?” she let the question hang. Something about robots. That’s the last I remember.

“You’re in Phoenix General Hospital. You took four bullets to the stomach. You’re lucky to be alive.”

Amanda blinked as she lifted her head back up. The robots shot me? I remember… we were talking. With the Watch, I think. Where… where is everyone.

“Your parents were here too. They… they care very much. They said they had something to take care of and left a couple hours ago. I’m sure they’ll be back soon.”

“Wait!” said Amanda. What happened to the others? She forgot her condition for a moment and tried to jolt upright. She cried out as her muscles gave out, and she flopped back on the bed.

“Whoa, careful!” said the woman. “Here’s some painkillers. Try and get some sleep, OK?” A warm feeling spread from Amanda’s arm again. Her eyes grew heavy.

No. Why are my parents…

***

Amanda woke up some indeterminable time later, much more peacefully. The general numbness she felt gradually faded. It took her a moment to recognize the hospital room she lay in. Her lack of glasses did not help matters, everything still looked fuzzy and indistinct. The dimmer lights helped, at least.

“Honey, are you awake?” asked a familiar voice.

“Bwa?” said Amanda, still not fully awake. She turned towards the voice just in time to catch sight of her mother embracing her in a gentle hug. “I…” began Amanda, not bothering to continue.

They held each other for a few long, silent minutes. Eventually, Amanda asked, “Where’s father?”

“Your father is out. He had to take a call.” Of course he did. They released each other. Amanda faced her mother as best she could from her bed and ignored her stomach. Her mother pulled up a chair to her bedside and clutched Amanda’s hand. “You had us so scared, honey. When we got the call…” Her voice broke.

Amanda squeezed her hand back. This isn’t so bad. “It’s alright. I’m alive.” She couldn’t exactly tell.

Her mother pressed her thin lips together and nodded. “What happened? No one here but your father knows, but he won’t tell me. And even he doesn’t know why you’re here in the first place. All anyone knows is that you were shot by a local gang. There was even a police squad outside your door when we first arrived here.” Oh no. I need to find the others, now. Where’s my phone? And where are my glasses?

“Police?” asked Amanda.

“Some hit men tried to… tried to kill you the day before we landed. Your… friends scared them off, but the police weren’t able to find your friends after. Don’t worry. Your father convinced the police to drop all charges. And he has Lock Corp. security posted outside now.”

Amanda stayed quiet a moment as she squinted at her mother. No… no arrest? No way in hell are Mother and Father going to just let me go once I’m healed.

“Oh, sorry,” said her mother. She reached over and grabbed her purse. “Your father had these made. Has your prescription changed since… you know…” she trailed off, not finishing her question.

Since I ran away a year ago? Is that what you meant to say? Amanda just said, “No, still the same.” She accepted the thin, black rimmed glasses her mother produced from a case in her purse and put them on. Finally. She blinked as her eyes adjusted.

Her mother sat by her side, looking as always like a prim and proper lady. Her brown hair, tied back into a neat bun, had a few streaks of grey in it.  She wore an expensive, dark green dress, no doubt from some designer from Paris or New York. Amanda had been forced into many like it before. Sorry, Mother. I like flats more than heels.

“So… what did I miss?” asked Amanda.

“You were-” She took a deep breath. “In a coma for three days. You woke up a couple times over the past two days. We got here as soon as we could.” I’m sure. Probably missed a fancy dinner, too.

“What happened to my friends?” asked Amanda.

“They haven’t been seen since they stole some cars yesterday,” said her mother, her voice curt.

Some tension she hadn’t been aware of eased out of Amanda’s shoulders. Her mother raised an eyebrow.

Something else, then? “Could I have a glass of water?”

“Sorry. The staff here said you shouldn’t be eating or drinking anything for your own safety. Your stomach was rather damaged, they said. And your friends… were they nice?” What? She’s not spitting on them?

“Of course. Why wouldn’t they be?”

Her mother’s brow furrowed. “You do know they can’t get to you anymore. No need to be afraid of them.” Oh, there it is.

“They didn’t coerce me or anything.” Yes, yes. Your sweet, spoiled daughter didn’t turn out to be a business mogul like you wanted, sorry. “We were here in Phoenix to help one of them with a family problem.” She bit back a sarcastic quip at the end. She hasn’t been arguing, I won’t start it.

Her mother frowned. “Amanda, it’s alright. You can tell me anything.”

Amanda nodded with exaggerated slowness. “I know, Mother. And I’m telling you that we were here to help with a family issue.”

Her mother sighed. “What were you thinking, scaring us half to death like this? Running away from home in the middle of the night? And you were shot. Shot.”

“OK, getting shot was not my fault.”

“You wouldn’t have been in that situation had you just listened to Father and I.”

Amanda opened her mouth to snap a retort when she heard a deep male voice from outside, muffled by the walls. “Tell the men …  find him if… employed. Understand?”

Amanda suppressed a sigh. Same old, same old. I’m in a fucking hospital bed and they won’t leave me alone. The numbness she’d felt had completely vanished, replaced with an uneasy ache in the pit of her stomach.

The door opened and her father slipped in. “Sorry, dear, the boys…” he whisptered to her mother. He cut off whatever else he was about to say. “Amanda!” He wrapped her up in a hug, regardless of the suit he wore. “Good to see you awake, honey,” he said, a wide smile on his face. He released her to go stand by Mother’s side.

“Yes. We were just talking about the career path she’d chosen.”

Her father snorted. “The police. Oh yeah, I heard about that, Delta,” he said, putting scorn into the last word. “They can never get anything done. I don’t see why you refuse to join the family business. You know there’d be a place for you, honey.” That was quick.

“Lock Corp?” They’d had this argument too many times to count. “You know what your family business is, right? Murder.” Her mother shot her a disapproving frown.

A frown replaced her father’s smile. “Honey,” he began in a controlled voice. “It is not murder. We’ve discussed this. Our men do their jobs. Sometimes that job is defending things that bad men would rather see destroyed or ruined. It is not murder.”

Why am I even bothering? “Hey, remember that torturing scandal that had Lock Corp. in the news for a couple months? And how it was reported that this wasn’t the first time it had happened in your company’s operations, just the-”

Her father cut her off. “A couple bad eggs. They were immediately laid off.” You mean given a transfer to the black ops division and no disciplinary measures whatsoever. Yeah, teenage me wasn’t deaf to those phone calls.

“That still doesn’t make me want to work there.”

“We humored you. We paid for you education. And you showed your gratitude by running off? And even after two years of looking for you, the first we hear is that you’ve been shot?” And that’s why I never told anyone my real name at the police department. You just don’t GIVE UP.

“Gratitude? You criticized me every step of the way.”

“Of course. You wanted to be a computer science egg head.”

“I graduated magna cum laude at age seventeen. And all you did was make snarky remarks about nerds afterwards.”

“Because there’s no money to be made! Better than most people, sure, but you know that’s not what I’m talking about. You wouldn’t get any respect as a code monkey, just the praise of more code monkeys.”

Amanda tried to sit upright at that, aggravating her stomach. She gritted her teeth and said, “My life, my choice.”

Her father rolled his eyes. “Kids,” he muttered under his breath. Her mother just gave her a pitying look. Not you too.

A knock on the door interrupted them. “Hello?” asked a man.

“We’ll continue this later,” said Father. He opened the door for the clipboard toting doctor on the other side.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lafitte. Is this a bad time?” asked the goateed doctor. His eyes glanced nervously between Amanda’s parents. What did you say to him, father? Were you going to sue him into oblivion? Send jackbooted thugs after him?

“No, not at all,” said Father, moving out of the doorway to let the doctor in. A female nurse, who might have been the one Amanda saw when she first woke up, followed him in.

“I just need to do a quick checkup, and then we can get started,” said the doctor. He placed the clipboard on a nearby table as the nurse examined the bags and devices attached to Amanda.

“Everything looks good, doctor.”.

He nodded. “Thank you.” The nurse left as he stood by Amanda and laid a hand on her arm. “Excuse me, this will only take a moment.” His eyes unfocused. Magic? Or a power? A minute passed before he doctor’s eyes refocused and his hand withdrew.

“Good news, doctor?” asked Father.

The doctor paused. “Good. That means we know what we’re dealing with.”

“What exactly are we dealing with?” asked Father, looming off to the side.

“I’m right here,” said Amanda. Please don’t talk about me while I’m right here like that.

The doctor nodded again. “Of course. Sorry. Now, I have a full medical diagnosis for you, if you like. A damage report, if you will.”

“Yes,” said Amanda and her father at the same time. “Please,” added Amanda.

The doctor addressed her. “There’s no pretty way to go about this. One of your kidneys was shredded beyond repair. A fifth of your liver was lost, and we had to rebuild most of your intestines with magic. You have two bullets lodged close to your main artery in your lower chest. Removing them would have been way too risky. Nicking that artery would have meant almost certain death.”

Amanda took a deep breath, ignoring the rising pain in her abdomen. Fuck me, that’s a lot. “OK, what does that mean?”

“The bullets? Not much. You’ve already healed around them. You may set off metal detectors in the future, and never undergo an MRI scan until the police have finished their analysis of the two we did remove from you.”

I should know this. Her power kicked in. –MRI machines produce very strong magnetic fields. Depending on the metal used in the bullets in you, they could heat up to extreme temperatures.– Extremely hot things in my body. Not good. Got it.

“Your liver will heal in time, though I suggest abstaining from alcohol for a while. Your other kidney has been adequate, the bloodworks say everything is normal there. You won’t need a transplant or anything of that nature. Your intestines were… in far worse shape. We’ve kept you on a steady drip of morphine since you woke up screaming. The damage was extensive.”

He continued, “You’ll have to use this probiotic for four months to recover the bacteria population in your intestines. I’m also prescribing painkillers for the next few months as well. We’ve kept you on an IV for water and nutrients. There is a magical procedure that we must perform tonight before you can take in any liquids safely.”

Amanda closed her eyes for a moment. I’m going to be useless for months, aren’t I? I’ll be doped up on morphine and drinking food smoothies.

“Would you like me to give you some time?” asked the doctor.

“No,” said Amanda. What else could there be?

The doctor produced three small pill bottles. “These three pills you’ll be on for most likely the rest of your life. Your intestines won’t produce nearly enough enzymes to be able to digest most food, but these should compensate for that.” Oh, I’ll be useless and drugged up for the rest of my life, not just months.

“You’ll also need this mild anticoagulant.” He produced another bottle. “Your friend did an admirable job reversing her magic for a first timer, but it wasn’t quite enough. This should combat your heightened blood clotting and reduce the risk of strokes or heart attacks.”

“Wait, friend? What?” Magic? Miya? What’d she do?

“Your friend saved your life. She, along with a member of the local Watch, kept you from bleeding out. However, she overused her magic. She is actually quite powerful, but she made a magic stream that wouldn’t dissipate over time. She couldn’t quite reverse it, so your blood was clotting in your bloodstream even after the initial danger had passed. Again, she managed to mitigate most of the effects, but not completely.” More pills. And I’m only twenty.

“That all?” she asked. Tons of pills, for the rest of my life.

“No. You will need physical therapy. Your abdominal muscles were shredded by the bullets. In the mean time, I would strongly urge you to avoid having to sit up. Anything that puts strain on your abs will more than likely ruin any progress you’ll have made.”

The doctor retrieved his clipboard and continued. “There is good news. You will heal. Most of what I have described is temporary. You will most likely live a normal life, and that’s more than what I can say to a lot of my patients.” Tons of pills, for the rest of my life.

“Wait, doctor. What was that procedure you mentioned?” asked her father. “Why didn’t you do it earlier?”

“The procedure is very taxing on the patient. If we had used it when she’d first come in, the strain would have killed her. It will heal the unhealed cuts and tears in her abdomen. After that, there is little more we can do for her besides writing the prescriptions.”

“Alright. We’ll take her home with us.” Amanda stared at the ceiling as the doctor left.

“Damn it. Why?” he asked Amanda.

“I don’t know,” she said, not taking her eyes from the ceiling.

“You fell in with a vigilante, a couple filthy crooks, and an animal. Why would you waste your life like that?” Hey, one of those crooks is Rob.

Amanda closed her eyes. Not worth arguing. Tons of pills, for the rest of my life.

<- Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ->

Loaded – Grand Theft Auto

Ben heard a tiny click as Rob’s lock pick broke. Rob muttered, “Fuck.”

Ben bit his tongue to keep himself from shooting a witticism at him. Must… not… mock. Must… stay… quiet. Rob pulled another bit of wire out of his pocket and returned to the fence’s lock. He kept his other hand on the chain links surrounding the impound lot to prevent any shaking.

Ben faced the streets behind Rob, one hand on his phone. Olivia circled overhead in the night sky, ready to send him a pre-written text if anyone approached.

Another tiny click. “There it is,” said Rob.

He pulled the chain out from around the gate posts and pushed it open with no resistance. He’d broken the gate motor by forcing a knife into a vent a minute ago. Ben teleported through, and Rob closed it behind them to avoid suspicion. He threaded the chain back in a lazy loop around the gate before he followed Ben.

They made their way through the impound lot. While the normal impound was a vast expanse of towed vehicles, their own cars were in a higher security area next to the main building, cordoned off by a taller fence. Ben’s phone vibrated halfway through the lot.

“Down,” he whispered. He grabbed Rob’s shoulder and yanked him behind a large truck. His phone displayed the nonsense text Olivia had sent that they’d typed up before as he pulled it out of his pocket.

Ben laid down on the ground to observe the street they’d left behind. After a few seconds, a police cruiser drove by. Ben counted to thirty in his head. No second message from Olivia; the cop car hadn’t stopped.

He nodded to Rob. They climbed back to their feet and continued towards the main building. Inside waited one sleepy guard, according to Quarrel. They’d avoided cameras so far, but their cars weren’t exactly built for stealth. That guard would trip an alarm if he were to see anything. They skirted around the view of another camera.

My turn. Ben pulled on his ski mask as they drew close to an open window one story above them. He jumped, extending his arms, and teleported up. He caught the edge of the windowsill and pulled himself up. The break room appeared to be empty. Guy was just sitting at the front desk when we were scouting out the place a half hour ago. He let go of the windowsill with one hand and grabbed one of Rob’s knives at his belt.

His other hand almost immediately started to slip. Shit. He tightened his grip and pulled the knife out of his belt. A couple quick hacks at the screen and he was in. Good, would’ve never have heard the end of it from Rob if I’d had to teleported down again. He pulled himself into the break room and returned his knife to the sheath at his belt.

He crept through the lifeless hall. No one heard me cutting? Good. The glow of a red exit sign at the end of it caught his eye. There’s the stairs. He opened the door, keeping an ear out for any footsteps beyond his own.

Ben finally reached the ground floor. Security, where are you? He followed the sound of a distant grunt. Is he jacking off? He poked his head through a partially opened door. A guard sat, back to Ben, before a massive bank of security cameras that showed various points of the impound. A laptop displaying something pink had the guard’s attention. Oh my fucking god, he is. Must be really boring this time of night. Do I have to do this? Fuck it.

Ben teleported in, catching the guard unawares. He wrapped his arm around the guard’s neck. Hope you’re not into this. The guard shot up, nearly driving the top of his head into the underside of Ben’s chin before Ben could tighten his grip.

Ben used his knee to shove the chair back under the guard, keeping him off his feet. His free hand reinforced the arm around the guard’s neck. He pulled as tight as he could to push the bone of his forearm into the arteries in the side of the guard’s neck.

The guard twisted to the side, bringing them both down. His fingernails scratched at Ben’s arm, trying to get a grip and pull it away. No. Ben redoubled his effort, eliciting a gurgle from the guard. His struggles lessened, and eventually stopped altogether. Finally.

Ben rolled the pantless man off of himself. You got some explaining to do whenever you wake up. He grabbed a small key ring from the guard’s belt. Security down. Should be a cakewalk from here out.

Ben sauntered out of the security office and to the back door. He unlocked the door and strolled outside. Rob gave him a thumbs up from the car he’d been hidden behind. He joined Ben by the gate to the walled off section of the impound. Ben pulled out his phone and sent Olivia a text.

Maybe thirty seconds passed before Olivia landed inside of the fenced off section and tore the gate open. The cameras probably caught every second of it, but there was no point in disguises anymore. There may be security cameras still, but there’s only one Olivia.

“Thank you,” said Ben as they joined her inside. She gave him a small smile. They were far enough away from the roads that they wouldn’t need her on lookout duty.

“Happy birthday,” said Rob as they reached Ben’s car.

Ben pointed out Amanda’s car a few cars down. “Happy birthday to you too,” he responded.

“What are those yellow things?” asked Oliva, pointing to the tire of Ben’s car.

“Boots. Gotta get them off.”

“Could we just…” began Olivia as she reached down to grab one.

“Wait, gotta make sure we don’t wreck the tire like that,” said Rob. “Put your hands here, an’ pull straight out.”

Olivia wrenched the boots off the cars, keeping the tires intact. Ben pulled his keys from his pocket and started the engine. Still got gas. We’re good. He leaned over the central console to open the glove box. Papers, papers. Aha. He found the small silver device Quarrel had told him about, maybe the size of a fingernail. He tossed it out the door. Through the window, Ben saw Rob do the same.

“An’ we’re good to go. See ya back at the church,” he said to Olivia.

“OK. Good luck, guys.” She waved and took flight again. She’s gonna take someone out with a wing doing that one of these days.

They drove out of the impound and onto the darkened, abandoned streets. Rob led the way towards the construction site Roach had prepared for them. They passed few other cars, 3 AM not exactly being an active time of day for most people.

They pulled into the construction site on the outskirts of town. Behind a trailer were a set of massive brown tarps. They both stopped short of them and rolled down their windows.

“Tarps are there. I’m likin’ Roach,” said Rob. Damn right.

“Yep. Let’s get these covered an’ get back.”

Disguising the cars went smoothly. They hurried away from the construction site and hopped into a familiar car across the street.

“Oh, hey, fancy meeting you here,” said Quarrel as Rob and Ben sat in the back seat of her car.

“Yeah, figured you could use the company,” said Ben.

Quarrel smiled as she started her car. “Everything go alright?”

“Yep. Plan went off without a hitch,” said Rob. It’s like Christmas came early.

“Seriously?”

“Not completely, I had to tackle a fappin’ guy.”

“Seriously?” asked Quarrel and Rob.

“Yeah. Security guy was… yeah.”

Rob snickered. “You avoid a sticky situation?” Ben sighed. They mocked him all the way back to the church.

***

The next day brought no cops, or attacks, or any other life or death situation. I could get used to this. Ben had joined Rob in the kitchen, cleaning up their last meal in Phoenix.

“I made you a watch for our birthday,” mentioned Rob. “It’s in the lair in Westward.”

Ben passed him another bowl and asked, “Is it a cool watch?”

“Who the fuck do you think I am? It’s a fuckin’ amazin’ watch. Gotta barometer an’ shit in it. Even put in a little battery an’ light.”

“Look at you, branchin’ out to electrical shit. How’d ya do that?”

“Lot’s of tinkerin’ an’ trial an’ error.”

Olivia poked her head around the corner. “It’s really your guys’ birthday?” Shit. Forgot she can hear everything.

Rob and Ben glanced at each other. “Yeah…” said Ben.

“Oh. Happy birthday! But… wait. Sorry. I didn’t get you guys anything. I didn’t know, or… but…. why didn’t you guys say anything?”

Great, now everyone is going to hear. “Uh, yeah, yeah,” said Rob. “It’s alright. No need to worry or anythin’.”

Miya joined Olivia. “What was this I heard about a birthday?”

“It’s their birthday,” said Olivia helpfully. Damn it.

“Oh, cool. Happy birthday. Or is it birthdays?”

Ben glanced at Rob, who shrugged as he scrubbed another bowl. “I dunno. Birthday,” said Ben.

“Alright. You guys doing anything?”

“Ehhhh.” Not really.

“Nah,” said Rob.

“Why not?” asked Olivia.

“It’s a… a private thing. A family thing.” Don’t make a big deal out of this. We don’t. We were trying to avoid these questions, really.

Miya shrugged. “Alright. Well, happy birthday, you two.” She dragged Olivia away. Now that I think about it, when’s Olivia’s birthday? Guess she doesn’t have one. That kinda sucks. Rob passed him a bowl as he shut off the sink

“That the last one?” asked Ben as he dried the bowl.

“Yep,” answered Rob.

They joined the others in the main room. They had a few hours until dark, when they would slip out of the city and north to Westward.

“I like these couches. Could use one of these as a permanent bed,” said Chris, lounging on a couch, his bag packed at his feet.

“Just try not to think about how many farts it’s absorbed,” said Rob, crashing alongside Ben on another.

Chris sighed. “Damn it. Can’t just leave me to my comfort here?”

“Nope,” said Rob with a smile.

A loud thunk came from the closet across the basement. Roach wheeled out an old tube TV atop a cart.

“Church shows movies for youth program,” rasped Roach. “Has DVD player. And cable.” He set the TV in the center of the far wall and plugged it in.

“Cool. What do we wanna watch?”

“What DVD’s do we even have?” asked Chris.

Roach rubbed the back of his head. “Brought a couple,” he said, producing a small stack of DVD’s.

“Hell yeah. Thanks,” said Ben.

“What did you bring?” asked Quarrel.

“Gladiator. And… a couple of these are in Nahua, sorry. Matrix. Godfather.”

“I dunno. Maybe something a little lighter?” said Quarrel. Olivia nodded in approval.

“Forrest Gump?” Sure.

“I’ve never seen it,” said Miya. What?

“What? It’s a classic,” exclaimed Rob.

“Yeah, I think that settles it,” said Quarrel. “We need to cure her of her Forrest Gump ignorance.”

***

“Olivia, are you still crying?” asked Miya.

Ben glanced at Olivia. She had a tear running down her face. He suppressed a snicker. Are you serious?

“She… Jenny died,” croaked Olivia. “She can’t be dead.”

“Yeah, she’s dead,” said Ben.

“They were so cute together.”

“It’s OK, Olivia, it’s not real,” said Quarrel.

“I know. But… but…”

Miya, sitting next to her on the floor, wrapped an arm around her waist. Like a teddy bear hugging a grizzly bear.

“So, I think it’s about time we head out,” said Chris as he got up from his couch, breaking the moment.

Everyone followed suit. Quarrel and Roach said their goodbyes and shook hands.

“Here, have some guns for you. Unless the roads have turned into an apocalyptic wasteland when I wasn’t looking, you should be fine,” said Quarrel. She gave them a large box.

“Awesome. Thank you,” said Chris.

“Don’t mention it. We were keeping them here. We’ve decided to move out of here, not impose of Father John anymore.”

“Oh yeah, reminds me,” said Ben. “We need to give you shootin’ lessons when we get back, Olivia.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“We’ve been over this. Be better than havin’ to run up to somethin’ with a gun. If you have a gun, just shoot ‘em,” said Rob.

“Better to know it and not need it than need it and not know it,” added Ben.

“But…” began Olivia.

“Those bruises hurt? Cuz they look like they do,” said Ben, pointing to the various bruises on her arm she’d accumulated from getting shot the past couple days.

“A little. It’s not bad or anything. I can ignore it.” Come on, Olivia.

“Ok, given the choice between takin’ pain an’ not takin’ pain, which would ya choose?” asked Ben.

“Not?”

“Exactly. Don’ even have to shoot to kill. Just shootin’ at someone makes ‘em duck. Only thing that can really hurt ya is another bruiser or an iron weapon. If ya have a gun, they can’t use those to hurt ya.”

“Guys, guys, check the news,” interrupted Quarrel, staring at her phone.

“Gettin’ kinda tired of watchin’ the news all the time,” said Ben.

“Seriously, this is about Overlord. He’s invading Venezuela.” What? Why?

Ben spotted the remote and teleported over to it. “This have cable?”

“I think so. Let me plug it in,” said Roach.

Ben turned on the TV to a reality TV show once Roach was done. Who the hell was watching this last?

“Try channel five,” said Quarrel.

Ben pressed the five button on the remote. A commercial appeared on the screen.

“Damn. How about seven?”

Ben hit the seven. On the screen appeared a harried woman on the streets of a city. Buildings burned behind her, lighting up the night sky.

“-units have been unable to repel the attackers. We have multiple reports of Overlord drones being used in the assault, the same models used a decade ago to defend his holdings in Iraq. Citizens of Caracas are advised to seek shelter immediately.” Subtitles in Spanish scrolled along the bottom of the screen.

“Lemme get this straight. Overlord jus’ invaded Venezuela?” asked Ben. Shit, that’s bad. That’s very bad.

“Shush,” said Chris.

The reporter continued, “No one has heard from the president since the attack began. Local police have been losing ground-”

A bright flash overtook the screen and the feed cut out. A couple anchors appeared on screen after a moment.

“We’re sorry about that, viewers. The White House has just released a statement, stating that this incursion of Overlord’s will be met with appropriate force. We’ll try and reestablish contact with our reporter in the field during the break.”

Commercials began playing. When in doubt, go to commercials.

“What the hell is in Venezuela?” asked Rob, breaking the silence.

“Oil? Iraq has oil, too, and he took over there a while back,” said Quarrel.

“Those robots smelled like oil, I think,” Olivia chipped in.

“Awful convenient that Freedom Fighter jus’ up an’ left Venezuela to get killed here two months ago,” said Ben.

“One less competitor,” rasped Roach.

“He’s right. F.F. would’ve been a really bad ally,” said Chris. “Anarchy and all that.”

“I… don’t think that’s how the anarchist philosophy works.”

“You’re right,” said Miya. “Anarchism is more a philosophy of freedom of choice, and that how governments restrict the choices of people. Therefor governments are to be abolished. I’m probably butchering the details, but that’s not the point. The point is that anarchism was just a banner for F.F. to use. Kind of like how terror groups in the Middle East don’t actually represent Islam.”

“That still doesn’t explain why he just willingly got himself killed in Westward.”

“Maybe Overlord tricked him. Said he’d have his back, then left him high and dry.”

“Well, he wasn’t in bad shape, either. Police an’ military weren’t able to do much ‘bout him.”

“Yeah, until you killed him.”

“Point.”

“Wait, wait. You killed him?” asked Quarrel, pointing at Ben.

“That I did. Slit his throat an’ everythin’.” I should put that on my resume or something.

Quarrel stared at him for a second, trying to tell if he was serious. I don’t lie. Realization dawned on her face. “Oh right. I remember reading something about that. That was you guys?”

“Not I, I didn’t join up ‘til later,” said Rob.

“The rest of us, yes,” said Chris.

“Well, full disclosure, it was me an’ Amanda. You, Miya, an’ Olivia were too busy gettin’ arrested.”

Chris rolled his eyes and nodded. “OK, granted. But it was still a team effort.”

The news returned with a blaring theme song, replacing the commercials they’d been ignoring. The anchors burbled something behind their backs.

“What the fuck?” said Rob with a grin, pointing to the TV.

A group of people in colorful costumes sat at a round table across from the microphone wielding reporter. What the fuck? It looked like they were in some big important conference room. A couple tall potted plants graced the corners of the room, and the chairs everyone sat in looked rather comfortable.

“Thank you. We’re here now with Foy, the leader of the Chevaliers.” A small girl in a brown and green skintight leotard smiled and nodded. “Now, Foy, we understand that your team was formed in response to the recent riots in Los Angeles. Would you care to expand on what exactly your goals are now?”

“Overlord has already caused too much suffering around the world, and even attacked our city. The people of Venezuela need us to put a stop to this. We need to put an end to Overlord for good before he can do anything more.” You chucklefucks? Seriously? “To that end, we’ve formed the Chevaliers, dedicated to tracking down Overlord and bringing him to justice.”

The reporter nodded, a serious expression on her face. “And would you like to introduce the members of your team?”

“Of course. The man to my right is Coyote.” A large, blond man with Viking runes covering his costume inclined his head. But… what?

“The Jabberwock.” A brooding black man in a martial artist uniform sat back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin.

“Rose.” A woman in a green costume with a rose motif waved.

“Tempest.” The thin man next in the circle had a penguin emblazoned on his chest.

“Soul.” A vaguely human shaped mass of grey mist occupied the last chair.

“Turn it off, turn it off,” said Rob, grinning. Oh come on, this is quality entertainment right here.

“Can’t watch this anymore,” muttered Chris. Fine. Ben switched off the TV.

“Did I just see that?” asked Quarrel.

“Some fuckin’ idiots in L.A. tryin’ to go after Overlord? Had the colorful costumes an’ everythin’? Yeah, saw that too,” explained Rob.

“What’s wrong?” asked Olivia. “They’re just trying to help.”

“They’re helping in the least helpful way possible,” said Chris.

“Yeah,” added Ben. “They looked like they were more there for a photo shoot than actually gettin’ shit done.”

“Does it matter what they’re dressed like? I mean, as long as they can do stuff…” Olivia trailed off.

“Kinda. They’re goin’ for looks, not effectiveness,” said Rob.

“MHU training had us all dress in spandex and go through regular sparring drills. It was rather unpleasant,” said Chris.

“Ha! Sucks to suck.”

Chris nodded. “Yes, Miya. Thank you. Anyways, that sucked. A lot. It was insanely restricting, provided no protection, painted you as a massive target, and was just generally a pain in the ass. And yes, you can drop a ton of money for a custom-made costume that removes most of those downsides, or you could just go to an army surplus store and get a combat uniform. The same damn thing for a fraction of the cost.”

“Yeah, but ya don’ look as stylish,” said Ben, grinning.

“You wear a hoodie and cargo pants. I wouldn’t call that a spandex eyesore.”

“So why are they doing that?” asked Olivia. Wide eyed idealists. Idiots. Who knows?

“There have been a couple good teams like that, ones that are competent. There’s a good chance those guys won’t last long, especially if they’re going up against Overlord of all people. But successful teams like that aren’t without precedence.”

“That’s how the Watch was started, right?” asked Miya.

Quarrel paused for a second, then nodded. “I believe so, yes.”

“So you guys are just basing this on their costumes?” asked Olivia.

“PR is secondary to effectiveness. You don’t design a tank to be civilian friendly, you design it to shrug off tank shells, bruisers, and techie contraptions,” explained Chris.

“Tanks are made to fight supers?”

“Yeah there are some scary metahumans out there. Hardware is designed with that in mind. You’re insanely strong, so why do you think bullets still hurt you so much? Lots of bullets and guns are made to shred tank powers and techie armors and so on. And on the flip side, lots of decent body armor models out there can keep you alive if a bruiser punches you. Well, wouldn’t really help you, you’d be fine. The rest of us.”

Don’t we have some place to be? Rob coughed. “We might need to get movin’. Only so many hours in the night,” he mentioned.

Quarrel sighed. “Right. Well, goodbye again. Don’t forget to look us up if you ever come back.”

“Of course. Give us a call if you ever find yourselves in Westward,” said Chris.

They followed Roach out of the church basement and to his truck. Quarrel waved goodbye as Roach drove them to where their cars were hidden.

<- Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ->

Loaded – Awake

Olivia woke up to the ever present sound of high pitched, source-less ringing in her ears. She burrowed her face further into her pillow. No, stop it. And why do my legs ache?

She rolled over and sat upright on the floor, massaging her thigh in hopes of getting the ache to stop. Anyone else awake? In the kitchen behind her, something metal tapped on the counter. The five people scattered around her on various couches were still sleeping, if the slowness of their breathing was any indication.

Who’s that in the kitchen? Olivia got up with care, keeping her wings from whacking Ben on the couch behind her. She walked over to the kitchen, the only part of the basement with lights on.

Roach had a couple bowls out, along with a box of pancake mix and a carton of milk. He rummaged through the fridge.  The stove behind him had a couple of lights on. His head popped up at the sound of her approaching footsteps.

I should say something, standing here being quiet and staring is weird. But… just… don’t say something dumb. Go. “Good morning,” she whispered. Hey! That wasn’t so bad! He gave her a small wave and returned to the fridge.

She leaned her hip against the counter and watched him produce a small carton of eggs from the fridge. He began measuring out flour. Should I just be standing here silently? This seems weird.

“Um, excuse me? Do you need any help?” she asked, keeping her voice down.

He paused for a moment. “Fill with water. To this line,” he said, handing her a large glass measuring cup and tapping the line with his index finger.

Olivia took it and placed it in the sink, twirling the faucet handle. “What are you making?”

“Pancakes. The church holds pancake breakfasts every month, have most of the stuff here.” He dumped the flour into a large bowl. Olivia shut off the water and handed him the glass cup. “Thanks. Rob made dinner. Figured I should make breakfast.”

Roach cracked a couple eggs and poured. Olivia tilted her head. What are the eggs for? I get the water makes the batter powder stuff into, you know, batter. What do eggs add?

He stirred for a minute. “Too thick, needs more water,” he murmured, holding up the wooden spoon and observing the batter.

“Oh, sorry.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “They’re just pancakes. Just need to add more water.”

“So… what do you need the eggs for?”

“Make them rise. Fluffy,” he rasped as he poured a little more water in.

It’s just an egg. “How?”

Roach shrugged, the heavy scarring on his broad shoulders visible beneath his tank top. Sorry. I’ll stop bugging you with food questions. The pancake batter sizzled as he poured it on the heated pan on the stove. That’s so loud. How is no one else waking up from this? Olivia, again with nothing to do, leaned back on counter. It’s weird that I’m just standing here silently, though. Oh, idea.

“Um, excuse me?” she asked. Roach glanced at her. Um, OK. “Why are there only two of you in the Watch here? I mean, three, but… Sorry. Sorry.” Stupid, stupid, stupid. I brought up a guy who just died. Stupid.

“It’s alright,” said Roach, even as his face darkened. Sorry. Shouldn’t have brought Preacher up. Sorry. He flicked the pan up. The pancake flipped midair and landed square in the center of the pan. “What do you mean, only three?”

“Well, um, there were six people in the Watch back home.”

“Who?”

“Um, there was Cinder, Blackout, Whiteout, um… I think their leader’s name was Laura. There were two others, I think. I don’t think I ever heard their names, though.”

Roach shrugged. “Six is a lot. Not sure why. Colorado, yes?” Olivia nodded. I kind of miss the mountains. “Watch must have been lucky there. Or a bunch of libertarians.”

“Libertarians?”

“Watch does the government’s job, policing. Funded privately. Libertarians like that. Dunno about Westward though. Never been.” He judged the golden brown pancake to be done, sliding it off the pan and onto a plate.

Olivia waited until the sizzle of the next pancake died down to ask, “Why did you join?”

“Twenty years ago, was a street punk,” rasped Roach, putting the plate with the pancake in the oven. “Got arrested. Throat slit in jail. Triggered, healed up. Saved my life, but my voice never came back. Served my time, decided to do some good. Cops wouldn’t take a former convict.” His normally deep voice squeaked. He held a hand to his throat and coughed. “Sorry. Joined the Watch instead, got a job working construction on the side.”

“Your throat didn’t heal? Why not?” I saw you get shot in the head. How is your throat still all raspy?

He glanced at her. “See the scars? Very fast healing, not better healing. Broke this arm once,” he said, lifting his right arm. “Healed crooked. Had to re-break it twice. Get it back to normal. More important is faster and better. Brain important, heals perfect. Big blood veins,” he said, tapping the side of his neck. “Important. Healed well. Same with throat. Voice, not important.”

He moved on to the next pancake. That sounds awful. The voice thing, not the pancake thing. The pancakes smell kind of like donuts too. Olivia heard rustling from Quarrel’s couch behind her.

“Good morning,” said Quarrel, padding up to them. Olivia moved to the back of the kitchen to make room.

“Hi. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up,” said Olivia.

“Nah, it’s alright. Been awake, just didn’t want to get up.”

“Didn’t want to help with breakfast,” said Roach, a sly smile on his face.

Quarrel stuck her tongue out at him. “Guilty.” Roach just laughed. “So, Olivia, sleep well?” she asked, leaning against the counter like Olivia.

“Um, yes?” Is… is there something more you’re asking?

Quarrel nodded as silence filled the space. Um… yeah. Eventually, she said, “OK.” She turned to Roach. “You scared her.”

“No. That was you.” Scared? I’m not scared.

“What?” asked Olivia.

“We’re just teasing you, don’t worry.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Quarrel let the silence hang for a moment before asking, “So you really can’t remember anything?”

I know, I’m weird. “No. I can… remember stuff. Just not stuff from, you know, before. Um, I think it was three months ago now.”

“Not even your name?” asked Quarrel. Olivia shook her head. I have a name now. It’s Olivia. I just don’t know what it was before. “Where did Olivia come from, then?”

“I… I don’t know. I thought it sounded nice.” Olivia looked down at her feet. Is that dumb? That sounds kind of dumb.

“What’s it like, flying?” asked Quarrel. Olivia looked back up at the sudden change of topic. Quarrel looked serious, at least more serious than the playful smile she’d been sporting before. Even Roach was paying attention out of the corner of his eye.

“Um, I like it. It’s really fun, actually. I can do rolls and stuff, and go really fast if I dive. And I don’t have to worry about getting spotted, either. Everyone has really bad eyesight, especially in the dark. And I can see the whole city if I go high enough, even the skyscrapers look small. It looks really pretty at night, too.” Olivia realized she’d been babbling. “And… um… yeah.”

Ben teleported to the kitchen. Gah! When did you get up? “Pancakes!” he said in a loud voice just shy of shouting, causing Quarrel to jump. Not so loud. Don’t be mean.

“Wha?” said Quarrel, spinning around. Ben grinned.

“Yes, pancakes,” said Roach without a flinch.

“Damn teleporters,” muttered Quarrel. In the common room beyond, everyone started to move around. Olivia heard Miya curse something. See what you did, Ben? Or hear, whatever.

“About half done,” continued Roach. “Might need to make more batter.”

“Awesome, thanks!” He walked back into the common room and shouted, “Hey, pancakes everyone.” He flicked on the lights. OK, now you’re just being mean.

Olivia heard sighs and groans from everyone else.

“Ben, I’m gonna fucking kill you,” spat Miya.

“That’s not very nice,” he answered.

“Any bacon?” called out Rob. Oh, bacon sounds good. Do we have any bacon?

“Good question,” Ben called back. He twisted his head around. “Any bacon?”

“Sorry, no,” said Roach. Aw.

“Damn. No bacon,” announced Ben.

“Damn,” said Rob.

Olivia and Quarrel joined the others gathering around the table from last night, leaving Roach room to work. Everyone chatted for a while, until Roach finally walked in with two large plates stacked with pancakes.

“Done. Grab your plates and stuff in the kitchen.”

“Do we have any peanut butter?” asked Chris as he got up.

“Maybe? Check the pantry. Why?” asked Quarrel.

“For my pancakes,” replied Chris, walking over to the kitchen.

Everyone paused for a moment. “Peanut butter on pancakes?” asked Quarrel. Ben and Rob tilted their heads simultaneously. What’s wrong with that?

“Yeah. Have you people never had that before?” answered Chris from the kitchen.

“No, never heard of that,” said Ben.

“Well, it’s great,” said Chris, jar of peanut butter in hand. “You non-believers can get up and get you precious regular butter.” He sat down at the white plastic folding table and sighed. “And I forgot a plate.” He climbed out of his seat again.

“Good job,” said Rob with a grin, patting him on the shoulder as he passed.

They eventually got everything distributed and dug in. Olivia and Rob both tried out the peanut butter pancakes. Tastes good with syrup. But then again, so do the normal pancakes. So hooray for syrup.

“Thanks for the food,” said Rob, nodding to Roach.

“No problem.”

“I got the dishes,” said Ben, gathering plates. Quarrel got up after him.

Chris scratched at his two days’ worth of stubble once he passed his plate to Ben. “Hate this,” he muttered. He looks kind of cute like that.

“Sucks to suck,” called out Ben as he walked to the kitchen.

Chris sighed. “I hate you two.”

“Just us?” asked Rob, leaning back in his chair. He pointed to Olivia and Miya. “When they, too, lack magnificent beards?”

Miya nodded and stroked her smooth chin. “What are you talking about? Been growing this out my whole life, you know.” Olivia scratched at her own face as she glanced at Chris again. That… no. No thank you.

“Sorry about that, Chris,” said Quarrel, walking by with a cardboard box. “I think we might have some razors in here somewhere. None of us ever really needed them.”

“Not even you, Roach?” asked Rob.

“No. Aztec. No facial hair,” he rasped.

“So? Seen guys from Mexico with facial hair before,” said Rob.

“Probably from the north, then. I think I’m about one eighth Hispanic, after all the math and shit. But I’m a girl, so it’s kind of a moot point,” said Miya.

“Family is from Michoacán.”

Olivia blinked. What? Did you just make that word up?

“Where’s that?” asked Rob.

“West of the capitol, and that’s in the center of Mexico,” said Miya. “Right?” she asked Roach, who nodded.

Quarrel’s phone buzzed as she rejoined them at the table. She checked it as she sat down. “Boss got us a meeting with Sarge. We’ve got thirty minutes,” she said, standing right back up.

Roach’s eyes widened as he jumped out of his seat. “Sorry,” he rasped. “We need to go, now.”

“Understandable,” said Rob.

“No problem,” added Chris. “Good luck.”

Quarrel and Roach rushed off. Whoa, that was sudden.

“Who is Sarge?” asked Olivia. He’d better not hurt them.

“Probably the head of the MHU here,” said Chris. “If they don’t have a code name like Cyrus they go by the rank they had before their promotion.”

Rob looked around at the others. “Well shit. Hope everything works out for ‘em.”

***

They dawdled for most of the day without Roach and Quarrel. Olivia occupied herself with her phone, Miya having shown her how to download apps. No. Stupid snake thing. I pressed the right button. Olivia looked up from her phone and stretched her neck, vision sliding over the boring basement walls once again. I miss the sun. Can we go outside soon?

“Gettin’ tired of waitin’ on other people to let stuff happen to us. Wanna be in control of our destiny for once,” said Ben, breaking the silence.

“Such is life,” said Chris, not bothering to open his eyes as he relaxed on a couch, hands behind his head.

“Having fun polishing your rifle?” Miya asked Ben, who’d taken his sniper rifle apart on the table across from Olivia.

“You wanna help? You know how to work those bones, shouldn’t be much… harder.” Why did you put emphasis on harder like that?

Rob snickered, on a second couch on the far side of the basement. “Yeah,” he added. “Just long, hard bones, all day long. Work them real well.” I’m missing something here.

“An’ sometimes a bone ain’t a bone. Gotta be careful there,” said Ben. What? But… What’s a bone that isn’t a bone? That doesn’t make any sense.

“Um, guys. What?” said Olivia. Everyone burst into laughter, even Chris. Come on.

“Nothing, Olivia,” said Miya. No one is going to tell me? OK, fine, whatever. Don’t want to make a fuss. Olivia frowned and returned to her phone.

They settled back into silence, until a few minutes later the lock of the door to the basement rattled. Everyone looked up to see Quarrel enter the basement.

“How’d it go?” asked Rob.

“OK… yeah. Just OK,” said Quarrel, crashing on an unoccupied couch.

“Where’s Roach?” asked Olivia. I don’t smell him upstairs. Or hear him.

“Outside on the phone. He said he’d be down soon. But I do have good news for you guys. You had a grey 2003 Crown Vic, right?” Quarrel asked Ben.

“Yeah,” said Ben.

“Well, the cops found it and impounded it, along with your super car thing and my car. We couldn’t get them out for you, and any other actions against the police on our part will land us on their permanent shit list. What I can tell you is that the night watchmen at the impound are generally sleepy, especially around two in the morning. I can also tell you that Sarge likes to put tracers on high value evidence like your cars, usually in the back of the glove box or under the passenger seats.”

“Any news on my car?” asked Chris. “Red 2001 Civic?”

“No, I don’t think they got that. More than likely it’s in a chop shop now. I think a couple Tzontlis wanted to keep Ben’s car.”

“You’re not havin’ a fun day today, Chris,” said Ben.

Chris sighed. Does he need a hug? “So this impound-” he began.

“Ten miles north of here. Your cars are right by the main building. Me and Roach took a drive by before coming back.”

Footsteps pounded on the stairs. Roach entered, saying “Got a call from the hospital. Amanda is awake.”

“Really?” asked Rob, sitting upright. Everyone got up, previous conversation forgotten.

“What? Can we see her?” asked Olivia as she jumped up from her seat and headed for the door. She paused. Why is no one else coming?

“She’s under police surveillance right now, remember?” said Ben.

“Doctors said her parents haven’t left her side, either,” said Roach. “They don’t speak highly of you all.”

“What? But…” said Olivia to herself. Amanda. She’s OK. We can’t just not see her.

“They’re moving her to Westward at her parent’s insistence.”

“Thought she was on trial?” said Chris. “Once she’s healed enough, at any rate.”

“Parents have got money. They pulled strings, not sure how.” Roach looked at everyone quizzically. “How did you not know this?”

“I dunno. Never said anythin’ ‘bout her parents,” said Rob.

“Don’ even know her last name, know that I think about it,” added Ben.

“Well, I don’t know either. But your best chance of meeting her is in Westward, Sarge is keeping a close eye on her until she’s gone.” But… but… No.

<- Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ->

Loaded – Dinner

Hurt. Everything hurt. Many people, too many people, kept shooting Olivia from across the street. The two other times she’d tried to get closer had just ended with many bullets. She hissed and overturned a car between her and them. Several bullets hit the roof of the car. A man with a rifle rushed up to her.

She nearly grabbed his neck before she caught his scent. Oh, right. Rob. Another man, Ben, teleported to her side and grabbed her hand.

“Olivia, wait!” he shouted. “It’s us.”

She nodded. A couple more bullets hitting the side of the overturned car made her duck her head.

“We gotta pull back,” yelled Rob.

Ben took a moment to hold his rifle above the side of the car and fire a couple shots before responding, “Too many of ‘em. They’ll tear us to shreds the second they can.”

Something solid and metal hit the concrete to their right.

“Grenade!” screamed Ben, tackling Rob out of the way.

Olivia raised a hand to her face and backed away. The explosion still staggered her. She roared in pain as the insides of her ears burned in pain. Stop. She dug her hands into the overturned car, then hefted it above her head and lobbed it in the direction the grenade had come from.

The car slammed into the ground just shy of the gunmen but kept rolling, leaving a trail of twisted metal and shattered glass on the street. Something tugged on her wing in the brief, calm moment that followed.

What? She whirled around, her tail coming within inches of taking out Rob’s knees as Ben helped him up. Ben yelled something, pointing to an abandoned apartment building behind him with his free hand. But the gunmen are behind us.

Rob and Ben ran, Ben waving at her to follow. Fine. She hissed as a couple bullets hit her back, but she kept up. Flashing lights began to appear; massive armored MHU vans thundered down the street.

They passed a couple bodies on the way to the apartment building. A scattered pile of reddish ash caught Olivia’s attention. Every bone in her body screamed danger. She skirted around it as far as possible while still reaching the wrecked door.

Within, Chris in liquid form battled two robots. One looked heavily damaged, only one leg and one arm pulling it along the floor as it attempted to crawl away. The other seemed in far better shape, a thin bit of metal emerged from its wrist with a jet of flame spewing out. It held a long steel knife in the other hand to keep human Chris at bay. Olivia charged.

Ben teleported and slashed at the shoulder joint of the robot’s lighter hand. He turned and teleported out of the way before the robot could twist and bring its knife down on him. Rob followed Ben’s attack with his rifle, forcing the robot to duck and roll out of the way.

Chris was right behind the robot, lunging to shove it to Olivia. She swung a hand down on its shoulder, carving straight through its chest. The robot collapsed. Go away.

Rob said something else, Olivia couldn’t hear him over the high pitched ringing in her ears. She couldn’t hear Chris’s response either, once he shifted back to human. But they motioned to her to follow them to through the building, which was good enough for her. Ben teleported off after the second robot, who’d managed to vanish in the meantime. I smell Miya and Quarrel in here, where are they?

Rob stopped at the door to a maintenance room. Different gadgets and guns, all made of the same dark grey metal as the robots, covered the walls. On the floor lay the shredded remains of the damaged robot, Ben’s knife sticking out of its back. Ben grabbed his sniper rifle off the wall, then teleported to the robot to retrieve his knife, a wide smile on his face. The Overlord robots kept the Overlord gun? Well, I guess that makes sense.

Ben teleported out of the room, and soon they reached the back of the building. I still smell them. They’re close. Olivia skidded to a stop and looked up to see Miya and Quarrel climbing down a fire escape.

“Wait,” said Olivia to the others, not hearing herself over the tinnitus in her ears.

Ben and Rob kept their eyes on the surroundings as Quarrel and Miya sprinted to join them. Everyone is here. OK. Right as she readied herself to take flight, Chris grabbed her arm. He said something to her, his voice too muffled and distant for her to comprehend. What?

“I can’t hear you,” she said. Please heal, ears.

He pointed to the cloudless, sunny sky. Then he spun his finger around like a helicopter. Oh, they’ll see me. OK.

They began running down some side streets and alleys, following Quarrel’s lead. Olivia struggled to keep up, her heel claws not used to taking so much punishment. I hate running.

***

They’d spent an hour dodging police patrols. Quarrel called Roach several times, trying to figure out whether he’d managed to talk down the police. On the plus side, they almost never had to duck out of sight of any possible passers-by. The city still had a meta-human fight warning ongoing, advising people to stay indoors.

Olivia’s ears had healed to the point that she could at least understand spoken words again. Of course, most of what she heard was now just panting and the occasional directions from Quarrel, but it beat being deaf.

They rested behind a couple makeshift shacks. The residents of the shantytown had made and abandoned them for some unknown reason in the back parking lot of some closed strip mall. Quarrel stood a distance away, on her phone again. Olivia put her hand into her pocket, making sure the two bits of gold were still there.

Quarrel walked back to them, putting her phone away. “Roach couldn’t get anywhere with the police, they’re out for blood and looking for someone to blame for all of this. He managed to get out to help us before they could arrest him. He’s on the way here, about five, ten minutes out.”

“Will he have enough room for all of us?” asked Chris.

Quarrel glanced at Olivia. I know, I’m weird, sorry. “He should. He drives an enormous SUV thing he uses for his day job. He works in construction.”

“Alright, sounds good. Where are we going to go?” Great. A car. I can’t fly? Olivia looked to the clear blue skies again. I guess not. It’s only noon.

“We have a couple safe houses. The nearest one is the basement of a church. We helped the priest there with a mutant rat infestation, long story, and he’s been a good friend ever since. Roach called him and he’s willing to let us crash there for a couple days while we get this sorted out.”

“How are you going to explain all this to the police, anyways?” asked Miya, leaning against the green Tzontli tag on the wall.

“The Watch National has an… agreement with the police,” said Quarrel. “We’ll be talked to death and interrogated for the next week or two, but we’ll be able to smooth this over unless they’ve lost all reason. The thing is though, that’ll only cover us, just me and Roach now. You guys will probably want to skip town unless facing some jail time sounds appealing.”

Olivia frowned. No, not going back to that cell. Dr. Ruskov and Dr. Sullivan were nice, but I’m not being stuck in that cell again. I hope they’re OK, the news said stuff about people being hurt when I escaped.

“Any news on Amanda?” asked Rob, sitting on the curb of the parking lot alongside Ben, who cradled his rifle.

“I think her parents arrived last night. Roach… wasn’t a fan of them.”

Rob shrugged. “Never met ‘em. Never heard anythin’ ‘bout them, actually.”

Quarrel nodded. “Other than that, nothing. I guess no news is good news in this case.”

Rob just shrugged again, not saying anything else. Olivia joined him and Ben on the curb. She stretched her feet out, her long toes spread out. The tension in her back claw especially eased as she stretched. Ow. I really hate running now.

“Escaping that firefight was easy. Too easy,” said Chris after a moment. “The number one rule that they taught us for situations like that was to never ever let up or give a meta a chance to think or regroup.”

“Had their hands full?” ventured Ben. “There were ton of Tzontli fellas there, an’ I’m guessin’ they ain’t fans of the cops either.

“I guess,” said Chris, a doubting frown still on his face.

“They ain’t all powerful. Hell, the ones here probably ain’t good at their jobs. The Tzonli’s ruled half the city if ya listen to rumors,” said Ben.

Chris nodded and let the conversation drop. A few uneventful minutes later, a massive forest green car pulled into the parking lot.

“That’s Roach, come on,” said Quarrel, jogging to the shotgun seat.

“It’s like a smaller BAT,” commented Ben, following. Bat? Oh, right, Rob’s truck. What was it they called it, the Big Ass Truck? Yeah, that’s it. I can remember stuff.

“That it is,” said Rob, opening the back door. Olivia stared at the open door. I’m fine with flying. Really. I don’t think my wings will fit through that.

Roach rolled down his window. “Trunk” he rasped, jerking his head towards the back of the car. Olivia sighed.

***

They pulled into a nearly empty church parking lot fifteen minutes later. An elderly man stood in a doorway. Who is that?

Roach parked, putting the church between the road and the car, and got out. The others followed suit, Ben running to the back to let Olivia out.

“Thank you,” she said, stretching wings that had been twisted inward to fit in the car. I hate tight spaces. “Wait, is he… um… OK with me?” she asked Ben, motioning towards the man in the church.

Ben shrugged. “I dunno. We’ll see.”

Um, OK. No one is freaking out, so I guess this is OK. She looked around, seeing nothing but an empty field and an elementary school behind them. She jogged as best she could to keep up with the others.

“Come, come,” said the priest at the door, ushering them in. He didn’t spare Olivia a second glance, which she appreciated. The door shut behind her. “This way please,” he said, moving to the head of the group and leading them into the church.

“Sure this is alright?” asked Roach as they headed past rows of pews. Olivia looked around. There’s a lot of crosses and a sad looking guy everywhere. Even that woman with the baby over there looks sad.

“It’s one thirty. There is no mass right now. There is an evening mass tonight, but there aren’t any activities planned that require the basement, so I’ll give you a set of keys. That way you can lock the doors after me so no one can walk in on you,” he replied, stopping at a door and handing Roach a set of keys.

Roach accepted them and smiled. “Thank you, Father John.”

“Please, call me John.”

“No one else work here?” asked Ben.

“No, we’re a small parish. There is a deacon and a secretary, but one I sent home, and the other is on vacation.” Father John opened the door to a staircase and motioned for them to enter the basement.

They descended the stairs and found themselves in the windowless basement of the church. A couple couches formed a rough semicircle around a large blank whiteboard on the wall. Some second hand rugs added some color to the otherwise beige environment. The small kitchen lay tucked in the corner behind a wall, the fridge humming.

“Feel free to help yourself to anything here, it’s the least I can do. I only ask that you refrain from violence. The bathrooms are over there on the far side, though I’m afraid we don’t have any showers for you,” said John, coming in last down the stairs. Yeah, everyone is starting to smell kind of bad.

“That reminds me. Those boxes we carted in, are they still well hidden?” asked Quarrel.

“Yes,” said John, his voice curt. Why does he sound mad all of a sudden? What’s wrong with boxes?

“Don’t worry. We’ll take those with us when we leave.”

“Thank you. And… my condolences for your loss. Preacher was a good man, even if we didn’t always see eye to eye.”

Quarrel bit her lip as Roach bowed his head. “Thank you, Father,” said Roach.

The others had spread out, Miya and Ben both crashing on separate couches. Chris examined an emergency exit door with paper taped over the window, and Rob sat on the arm of another couch, observing the conversation.

“Will you all be alright? I am holding confession in a half hour, and I’ll need to get ready,” said Father John.

“Yes, we’re fine. Thank you again,” said Roach.

“Not a problem. Stay safe everyone,” said Father John, inclining his head. And with that, he left.

“Food?” asked Roach once the door closed. Food! Ben and Miya both popped their heads up from behind their couches.

“What do we want to eat?” asked Quarrel. “There are some good burger places near-”

“No!” exclaimed Rob, jumping to his feet. Everyone’s attention snapped to him. “I refuse! No more fast food. No more. I am gonna fuckin’ cook somethin’, an’ it’ll be fuckin’ delicious.” He stormed into the kitchen.

Quarrel followed him. “We’re not going to have much. We didn’t want to intrude on Father John’s goodwill.” Olivia and the others exchanged looks, then followed. Rob can cook?

“Well, what do you have?” he asked as he searched the cupboards.

“I don’t know. MREs in the boxes, ramen, pasta, frozen dinners. I think there’s some pork chops in the freezer, too. Oh, we have a bag of rice in the back.”

“Any spices?”

“Does salt and pepper count?”

“No.”

“Then no.”

Rob closed his eyes and rested his head on a cupboard. “Heathens,” he muttered under his breath.

“We don’t have to cook-” ventured Chris.

“Yes! I haven’t cooked anythin’ for months. It’s all been junk food and chemical crap.” He opened the fridge and the freezer on top. “Damn, this is a lot of pork. Why?”

“Wholesale stores are great. All of that cost almost nothing,” said Quarrel.

“Fuck it. Pork curry it is. Fuckin’ tired of cow. You,” he said, pointing to Ben. “Get a thing of curry powder, worcestershire sauce, garlic, and a bunch of onions.” He leaned over, checking the fridge again. “Let’s see, there’s butter and milk here, and some salad makin’s for whatever reason. Oh, and beef broth. Get that, I think that’ll work.”

“And how do you propose he gets that?” asked Quarrel. “Security surveillance, and a bunch of witnesses, caught sight of you guys at the hospital. People will be looking for you all.”

Rob just shrugged. “OK, you go get it. You’ve been wearin’ a mask this whole time. Besides, how else would we get those burgers you were ‘bout to suggest?”

Quarrel sighed. “Fine. Where’s a note pad?” After a moment, Rob came across a blank one. “Write down the list of what you need, I’ll run to a store and get it.”

Roach coughed. “I’ll be fine,” said Quarrel. She smiled slightly. “I can take care of myself, you know, even without a crossbow.” Roach nodded and tossed her the keys.

Rob passed her his list, and Quarrel jogged up the stairs.

“Now, where’s the biggest pot you have?” he asked Roach.

Roach shrugged. “Don’t know. Not my place. Bad cook.”

“Fuck it, I’ll figure it out myself. Out, all of you,” he said, shooing them out.

Everyone collapsed on the various couches again, Olivia electing to take a seat on the floor between Miya and Ben. Stupid backrests. Everyone except Roach and Olivia pulled out phones. Roach just glanced at everyone and raised an eyebrow before leaning back and closing his eyes.

Sleepy? Olivia closed her eyes and rested her head against the padded armrest of Miya’s couch, enjoying the fact that no one was shooting or hunting them at the moment. The ringing had finally subsided to manageable levels. That fridge is kind of loud, but I like it here. It’s quiet otherwise. It doesn’t even smell bad.

Sizzles filled the air as Rob slapped the pork onto a hot pan. Oh, that smells good.

“You alright there, Olivia?” asked Miya.

Olivia looked at Miya and tilted her head. What? Why wouldn’t I be? “I’m fine. Why?”

“Because you jumped up just now.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Did you fall asleep?” she asked.

“No?” I was just resting my eyes.

“Is Quarrel here?”

“No,” Olivia began to say. I hear another person breathing. And… yeah, that’s Quarrel I smell. “Wait, yes. When did she get back?” She looked around for Quarrel, sitting next to Roach to Olivia’s right. Quarrel gave her a small wave.

“Like a minute ago. Don’t worry, you missed nothing,” said Miya.

“Yeah, it’s borin’, just lettin’ Rob cook,” said Ben. He grinned wide. “I’mma go fuck with him.” He scampered off to the kitchen.

Chris and Miya just rolled their eyes. What does Ben mean by that?

Soon, she heard Rob say, “No, don’t touch that.”

Miya sighed and rubbed her temples.

A moment later, “Don’t lick that. Give it back.”

Lick? Ew. That’s our food in there, Ben.

“I said don’t touch that.”

“I give him ten seconds,” said Chris, checking the time on his phone. Quarrel laughed.

“Twenty,” countered Miya.

“You’re on.” I… whatever. I don’t know, and I’ve come to accept that. I just can’t care enough anymore.

Another moment. “Out! OUT!” shouted Rob. Ben fled the kitchen.

“Suck it,” Miya said, sticking her tongue out at Chris.

A moment later Rob chucked a knife that embedded itself in the wall behind Ben, who just laughed. Olivia’s eyes widened. Something in the air made them tingle as they did.

“What the hell was that?” asked Chris, pointing to the knife.

“A family tradition. He wasn’t aimin’ for me,” said Ben, plopping down on the couch.

Quarrel got up and pulled the knife out of the drywall. After examining the hole, she said, “You’re going to fix this.” Roach frowned at Ben to back her up.

Ben shrugged. “Sure. I’ll get Rob in on it when he ain’t busy. Unless, of course, you wanna talk to him right now. There are still got a couple more knives in that kitchen.”

“Olivia, are you crying?” asked Miya.

She shook her head. “No. Something… in the air.” She blinked a couple times, trying to the the water out. Gah! What is that? Smells… gah.

“Rob’s choppin’ up a lotta onions in there. Maybe tha’s it,” said Ben.

Olivia nodded and spent the next ten minutes trying desperately to ignore the stinging and sneezing. She pulled out her own phone just to try to take her mind off it. Ignore it. Just ignore it. But the rest of that stuff smells good. Really good.

Finally, Rob came in and asked, “Alright, it’s in the pot now. Should be a half hour now. Who wants rice with it?” A half hour? It smells so good. But… but…

“There’s a rice cooker thing in there?” asked Quarrel.

“Nah, I jury rigged somethin’. An’… wait, why did you put a bag of rice in here if you didn’t have a way to make it?”

“I… don’t… know,” said Quarrel. Roach laughed as her face turned red. “Shut up. It must have been an oversight on our part.”

Rob just smiled. “Rice?” he repeated.

“Yes, thank you,” said Quarrel.

After everyone gave their orders, Rob returned to the kitchen. Olivia heard a chopping noise from there a few minutes later. What? You don’t chop rice, do you?

He called out, “Alright, salads while we wait. Gettin’ close now.”

Roach nudged Quarrel, and they got up off their couch and walked over to a closet of some kind. They pulled a folding table out. After everyone grabbed some chairs and set everything up, Rob walked out with a large bowl of salad and a stack of plates.

Olivia spun her chair so that the back faced the table and sat down. She had a clear view of the pot. Food.

“Salad, Olivia?” asked Rob, breaking her out of her reverie. He held tongs with a bunch of salad in them.

“No thank you. Vegetables are what food eats,” said Olivia.

Miya froze, forkful of salad halfway to her mouth. Ben, Quarrel, and Chris just laughed.

“You’re not gonna go carnivore master race on us, are you?” asked Rob.

Olivia’s eyes widened. Oh. “No! Sorry, it was a joke. Sorry.” I didn’t mean to be weird or anything. I’m so sorry.

Rob grinned. “So that’s a no on the salad?”

“No thank you,” repeated Olivia, hunching over in her seat. Why is my face so hot?

Miya nudged her. “Don’t worry.” Olivia just nodded.

At long last, Rob took the pot off the stove as Ben and Roach poured drinks into red plastic cups.

Right as Olivia grabbed her clear plastic fork and stabbed a piece of pork, Rob said, “I wanna say somethin’ real quick.”

Everyone stopped. But… Olivia glanced at the food, so tantalizingly close. She suppressed a sigh and put her fork down.

Rob continued, “We’re not fuckin’ dead, an’ we’re not in jail or some shit. Can’t thank you two enough for that.” He nodded to Quarrel and Roach. “So this meal should taste damn good. I’m done, dig in.”

<- Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ->