New Tales From Old Yarn

by Barbara Becc

  With one more slowdown, she judged the height and power needed to get up. Content as possible in her situation, she crouched a second time and stared at her legs until her unsuspecting not-boyfriend returned.

  The Vitalizer showed. She watched him walk halfway, and then turn left, and then...

  While he rounded the way back to his seat, Dolores sent everything into slowness. Hold, she asked her powers. Please hold.

  Seconds one and two: she stood.

  Three: one foot landed on the arm.

  Four and five: she balanced both feet. I need more time! She strained her brain to keep things still. They call me a superhero, and it takes all I have to put seven seconds on hold!

  Six and seven: aware she’d run out, she forced herself onto the back of the sofa and hopped into the air—at The Vitalizer.

  She saw time sink in and his head shift in her direction.

  When Dolores thought he’d snap those beefy arms and fling her against the wall, he stopped. Her head hurt, more than she thought it would for a few seconds’ strain, but she got herself one more second. In that eighth second, the two came together.

  As in, she dropped him. Aching all over, she pinned him to the floor in one fell swoop.

  They both shouted from the impact, The Vitalizer having the stronger reaction. He kicked, he groaned, he tried to shake Dolores off, but to no avail. She didn’t know what she did – broke his ribs, broke nothing – but when he tried pulling at the light pole wrapped around her, she felt nothing but a tug. He couldn’t lift her off, and as The Vitalizer gasped for air, Dolores understood. “Y...You can’t use your powers!” she said, as if reconciling the notion to herself. “You’re under too much stress, aren’t you?”

  He growled and kept fighting, failing to knock her off along with lifting the sofa beside them. Dolores wrapped her legs around him to make sure she didn’t slip. “This is four, five hundred pounds on your chest. You aren’t going to be shaking me off.”

  “Sh-Shut up,” the Vitalizer snapped between sucking in air.

  It’s weird, having his lower chest and back so close to my skin, Dolores thought. Hm. Okay, stop, need to negotiate. “So,” Dolores said right before another slowdown. She lifted herself up and slammed herself back on The Vitalizer’s chest.

  He cried out, although it sounded like he tried to stifle it to save face. Now he’s in pain like I am. Vengeance satiated. “Here’s what we’ll do, Vitalizer,” Dolores said over his groans—resisting her own urge to groan. “I’m going to keep beating you with my binds. It will be agonizing. The only way to lessen it up will be to get this pole from around me.”

  The Vitalizer coughed some more before saying, “As if there’s only one solution to—”

  Dolores went into another slowdown before crashing into him again. “It’s your only solution,” she said as he writhed in utter distress. “I might not have the strongest or most efficient superpowers, but you’re operating on my time now.”

  It annoyed her a bit when he tried sitting up. She knew he was tough, willing to fight through the pain to get what he desired, but why wouldn’t he stay down? “Stop it!” she said in spite of herself, slowing time again to keep The Vitalizer incapacitated. With another slam, he cried out even louder. “We are both tired and battered. Don’t make me h...Don’t make me kill you.” She stopped herself before she said the damning words: Don’t make me hurt you anymore. He would’ve heard all the reluctance he needed to get over on me.

  The Vitalizer stopped moving. He couldn’t even take a decent breath. Nonetheless, a wheezing chuckle escaped his throat. “You aren’t going to kill me. Anyone with...with eyes could see that.”

  “Smart.” Dolores allowed herself a grin. Resilient bastard. Every time I ask, “Why you?” I stumble upon a good explanation. It’s reaffirmed whenever my mind locks on you. “I don’t have to, though. One good knock to the head will do well enough.”

  She didn’t commence another slowdown just yet. The Vitalizer didn’t fight back, and neither did she. They stared at each other for a bizarre moment in time, the quiet tones of the TV the only noise besides their strenuous breaths. What did he see when he looked at her? What did he feel? She knew she couldn’t let him lie here, recovering from the trauma with every passing moment, but it could be so nice to rest against him in a friendlier context...

  Sigh. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to eat 80 loaves of garlic bread and watch Netflix for two days. No rest for the weary. Here came the next slowdown, Dolores forcing herself up—she had less motivation for this pummeling than the others. She quite relished gravity’s pull when she landed back on The Vitalizer.

  With one last loud grunt, he yielded. “All right!” he spoke, panting. “All right, Clockpunk.”

  “Great. Release me.”

  The Vitalizer’s hands drifted to her metal-bound back. He took the deepest breath possible, and at once the streetlight drew away.

  Dolores stayed on edge as her body came free. She anticipated a fight as soon as things looked relieved, leading her to take a quick glimpse seven seconds into the future.

  In that gloom, he grabbed her neck. Dolores came back to the present and, as soon as she could move her pounding arms, jumped off him into a slowdown.

  The streetlight thudded against the ground when it slid down her body. She had two options, the front door or the balcony. Since she assumed the door locked, she charged to the balcony and slid open the glass exit. Three seconds went to climbing onto the railing, but she needed at least seven to recharge. She waited a couple more in real time.

  The Vitalizer yelled her name – her superheroine name – and gave her the motivation to jump.

  I think this is my first time jumping off a building, she thought in freefall. Should I be excited or terrified? The wind feels amazing. The Vitalizer had better not fall after me. All she heard was wind, the dark city cool around her limbs. Only a hot bath could feel better.

  As the ground closed in, Dolores heaved a long, proper sigh. She’d tried this before, but never from such heights.

  She slowed time. The rushing buildings around her, the soothing gusts, inched like cold honey past her eyes. Though she still descended, she met Earth at such a slow rate that she landed on both feet without added injury—much as she needed to check into a hospital, Dolores still had her will. She booked down the street, past the condo complex into the streets.

  Right before time resumed, she made out a humming sound somewhere ahead. Please tell me that’s Dr. Awesome’s helicopter searching for me, she thought as she ran. Every inch of her screamed to pass out on the pavement, but it was either the other heroes or The Vitalizer.

  Cracking, crushing noises sounded behind her. She threw one glance over her shoulder and saw The Vitalizer hot on her trail, ripping up everything he could throw at her. He’s up and after me already?! Damn, he’s fast! She turned forward and pressed her body further. What’s more is that he’s mad as hell. I can’t let him reach me.

  Mailboxes, benches, and small trees whooshed past her arms and ears. She slowed time to take a turn, both dodging the hail and leaving The Vitalizer’s sight, but knew this path led to exhaustion. Once the slowdown let up, the shops around her fractured off their foundations in pursuit of her. Is he going to try crushing me or something? Dolores kept her ears perked for that humming noise, despite the rumblings of brick-wood-plastic at the edge of her back. Burying me in rubble? Please let that be the helicopter coming towards me.

  Oh, hey, if The Vitalizer’s causing all this havoc...maybe they’ll see it from above.

  They could not miss it. Cooley lay quiet besides the storm in Dolores’s wake; she didn’t know where all its people fled, simply that they weren’t here to take from the display. While she slowed time again, the relative silence struck her. I did it. Cooley’s citizens got away. My plan worked! Yeah, Cooley’s sustained grievous damage, but not its people! Not its people.

  She had to stop running for a bit, so tired she thought she�
��d collapse. Her hand rested against a tree, and though The Vitalizer demolished a bus up the street, she had to dig deep. That humming came into clarity as she wiped the sweat off her lip. It is the ‘copter. Where...? She looked through the canopy for it.

  A searchlight beamed into view. Finally I’m at the end. No stopping now. With another slowdown, Dolores pressed on towards it. She didn’t care to judge how far the light strayed, for as long as The Vitalizer didn’t beat her to it, no problem!

  Failing to give him due notice did her no favors, however. While sprinting across a boulevard, the tree she’d just left caught her on the calf. Dolores grunted and stumbled but kept going. A yield sign jabbed at her thigh, breaking enough skin to make her pants damp. He’s catching up! I can’t get a break!

  The third slowdown, started on the brink of a spinning traffic light grazing her back, lasted five seconds. She felt the difference; she wanted to panic. Not good not good NOT GOOD. “Clockpunk!” The Vitalizer shouted over the screeching roar of half a bus—Dolores turned back to see it driving up the rightmost lane with him on top. “Mind yourself! You’re a valuable commodity, remember?”

  She ran down another boulevard at the limit of her strength. He followed. Her vision grew spotty, her legs shaking. Her mouth was dry; her lungs shriveled beneath her ribs. She had one more slowdown in her—

  Heat licked up her entire body from behind. A blue-white tower of flames crash-landed between her and The Vitalizer, and when she revolved to take it in, she fell to her knees. She sucked in all the hot air she could handle, unconcerned with the megalomaniac on the other side. The helicopter hovered a little ways away.

  When the tower disappeared, The Vitalizer looked ready to attack. Fortunately for Dolores, Dr. Awesome appeared between them. Bloodwoman and Purple Quetzal walked up beside her. Aware of the blood, sweat, and chocolate frosting still on her, Dolores let the cleaner-kempt heroes do the energy-wasting. “It’s been a while, Vitalizer,” Dr. Awesome said.

  “So it has,” the Vitalizer said with a cough. He drifted down off the bus. “Pleasantries aside, I’ll take the woman back.”

  “No, you won’t.” The doctor put his fists on his hips and said, “Clockpunk comes with us.”

  The Vitalizer clutched his gut but kept his ground. “The Bull comes with me.”

  Dr. Awesome leaned his head up. “Ahhh. The Bull. As a matter of fact, the Bull is already out of Cooley; it’s not going with any of us. Clockpunk’s never even seen it, villain.”

  Once more, The Vitalizer stared everyone down. Dolores got the sense that he really kept his gaze on her, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t reach her with the other three there.

  Instead, he let out a soft laugh. “I figured. I should have gone ahead and killed her—”

  “You won’t be killing anyone,” Bloodwoman interrupted.

  “I suppose I won’t.”

  Relief flooded Dolores at those words. She was done. She could rest. “Leave Cooley,” Bloodwoman said. “If you stay, you deal with us. What you came for is gone, so consider this an act of mercy.”

  Another lapse of silence passed. The Vitalizer ended it with a series of coughs before lifting his hands. “An act of mercy, then. I concede.”

  He turned to the city’s other end. Dolores knew he still wanted the Bull, even if none of them knew where it ended up. In the very least, she found solace in knowing he wouldn’t return to her home for it anytime soon. “Another time, heroes,” the Vitalizer said as he walked away.

  “One thing, though, before I forget.” He cast his masked face to Dolores. “I’m impressed, Clockpunk. You might be my new favorite of this pathetic bunch.”

  She blushed like crazy. In fact, she had to fight off a smile as he shot off in the night air—good thing her body crumpled up into a ball, too worn out to do anything else. Bloodwoman picked her up for extraction in the helicopter, but Dolores chose sleep over everything else.

  ~~~

  Dr. Awesome, being the sole superhero who knew her everyday identity, tended to her injuries with a nurse they both trusted. She recuperated over the next few days in peace.

  She recuperated further at home once released. First thing she did was hop in the tub, the steaming water eking out every last ounce of soreness left.

  Next she cried for a minute over The Vitalizer, at how she’d brutalized her crush despite him deserving it. Remembering the newfound respect he showed her before disappearing helped calm her down, but she never wanted to hurt anyone that badly again.

  Then she called her mom, updated the museum on her “car crash injuries obtained during the rush out of the city,” and got back to her normal life. She ate, played video games, slept, and worked as she typically did. In spite of the Cooley destruction, she commended the other heroes for removing the Bull. In spite of her life’s duality, she found no need to complain. And, in spite of The Vitalizer’s chaotic deeds, she still giggled when she saw his picture on the news.

  When Dolores saw herself, though, she smiled more. She saw a hero more suited to the job than maybe anyone, even Dolores, originally believed. The next time Cooley called for Clockpunk, they’d get her—happier and proud of herself, as she should have always been.

  Collector's Edition

  CDP Morkert

  The original myth Collector’s Edition is based off of is one part dragon hoards, and one part the myth of basilisks and weasels being mortal enemies. Honestly Morkert researched about weasels being able to kill basilisks by peeing into their nests, and was so tickled that an entire world was built off of that one fact. Here’s some advice: If it makes you laugh, think of writing something about it.

  ~~~

  Looking at the library from the outside, most immediately assume it's a used book store. They would be partially right, and could purchase various old and new paperbacks off the racks and rickety shelves. It smelled dusty, looked dustier, and had a strange atmosphere of mysteriousness that didn't fit such a small place. The only thing that kept patrons coming was probably the elderly, somewhat petite, librarian. Or what most assumed as the used book store owner. He was more than alright with either descriptor, as long as you were polite and didn't knock over the piles of tomes that were stacked near the check-out desk. That was a pet peeve of his. But on the whole, he was a welcoming sort, and often the tiny library would be a refuge of peace and safety.

  The librarian's name changed every thirty years or so. Some called him by old names, but not often. Those ones, those few who knew the old names, were the librarian's favorites. The old names were for those who had been around as long as he had. And all of them, every ageless one, were precious. If the librarian hadn't taken a liking to the written word so early in life, he might have considered collecting immortals rather than books. But perhaps it had turned out better for everyone. Past history with the librarian's western cousins forcibly taking away people for their collections didn't bode well health-wise.

  To say the librarian was eccentric was precisely true. He had a small, fluffy, cream-colored Pomeranian as a pet that was kept behind the desk, or sometimes napped on the counter when times were slow. He organized the books to color, rather than to titles, or authors, or any reasonable way to sort books. He had a small table where there was always hot water, but no tea or coffee to add to it. And well, there was the back room to consider. But he didn't talk about the back room to just anyone. So only his favorites knew about that little oddity.

  One of said favorites entered the library one day with a bit of a harassed expression on their face partially obscured by the goggles that covered their eyes. Of course this one always seemed to be harassed, but the librarian never asked out-right out of politeness. All would be told in time anyway. The patron paused at the entrance and bowed slightly, and the librarian bowed his own head in acknowledgement. Such a respectful young one. Pulling out a mug, the librarian set it on the counter, causing the small guard dog to lift his head to observe the newly arrived patron. At the sight of the dog, th
e expression on the patron's face eased into one of affection, "Hello, Byron."

  Byron sat up, tail swishing softly as the patron pet his head and rubbed his ears. A fond smile found its way to the librarian's face at the display, and he scooted the mug a bit closer. The patron took the mug, bowing their head gratefully, and fished a tea bag from their coat pocket. The librarian lifted Byron to place him on the floor, and the dog followed the patron to the hot water, beginning to pant in excitement over the visitor. "Long time to be gone," the librarian commented, bringing his own mug to his mouth.

  The patron stiffened a little, but kept preparing their tea in silence. The quiet settled a bit, the librarian in no hurry to learn what had transpired to the young one on their last adventure. No doubt it had to do with that rivalry of theirs, if they were still doing that. Honestly that should have resolved long ago, based on how long those two had been competing against each other. Treasure hunting was dangerous, and the librarian didn't necessarily agree with what the young one did. He knew that the items and places that were found had been abandoned, and so the contents there forfeit, but still... There was some uneasiness thinking about such things being taken away from where they were placed by their original owners. Perhaps that was the old way of thinking now. Immortals had to keep busy somehow, especially with the old forms weakening and changing. He himself couldn't remember the last time he was able to hold his old form for more than a few hours. Ah, those were the days.

  Not that the librarian spent some of his own time betting on the two adventurers to assuage his own boredom. That would be silly. But if he did have a bet going, his young patron better win in the next ten years. Otherwise the librarian might be out of a few choice boxes of tea to an old serpent in Scotland, and that would just be terrible all around. That old snake could be so smug.