Samantha rolled her eyes, but followed the other woman. She can't be all bad if she watches Full Metal Alchemist. Then again, she has the Villain vibe going strong and she isn’t a Prime I've heard is known to be around town. Hopefully she isn't a psychopath.
Behind the hollow building, Lucky waved at a large block of stone. A row of cans and bottles were setup along the edge. "I was practicing myself. It's rare that I get away from the guys, and really get to cut loose without witnesses." She winked.
Though filled with foreboding, Muddy Mess decided to humor the other Villain. Beats knitting or going back to Jon's house.
Gingerly sitting on a chunk of rubble, Lucky kept up her friendly tone. "How about you tell me what your power is, and I will offer sage advice from a veteran Prime. Stuff like how to train without blowing the neighborhood to smithereens. If you have a useful power, I might even offer you a place on my team."
Hiding a grin, Samantha slid the needles of her power into her scalp and hair. "Sure, just gimme a minute." Had my power for half a day and already getting team invites. Hmm, let’s go blue, neon blue.
Lucky shifted impatiently but didn't push further. She just leaned back with her arms behind her head and stared up at the cloudy sky. "That's too bad, if it's a slow power you might be better off in the private sector."
A few minutes later, Samantha moved in front of her. "Hey, I thought you wanted to see my power. I'm not very fast yet, but I'm getting better with practice."
"What's with your—oh shit!" Propped on her elbows, Lucky's voice sped up excitedly. "Wait, you're a Metamorph? Holy cow, that's great. Like the best thing great, well, mostly the best thing. Awesome!"
"Mostly?" Samantha plopped down next to Lucky, her blue hair blowing in the breeze.
"Well, stable Metamorphs are an incredible infiltration asset." The woman laughed. "I hear a few are making six figures easy. The problem is knowing which ones are stable. Have you cut a finger or anything since your Manifestation?"
"Everything I found online implied we are the least likely to explode or disintegrate a city block," Samantha said.
"It's true, if you stay a Metamorph." Lucky craned her neck to see other areas of Samantha's exposed skin. "Did you pick up any bruises from your fall down the hill?"
Samantha grabbed her own foot and wiggled it in its socket. "My ankle hurts, and I have a bump on the side of my head, does that count?"
"Probably fine then, but something you need to watch out for. Metamorphs aren't dangerous on their first Manifestation, it's their last one that makes them the rarest and most dangerous Primes." Lucky eyed her seriously. "No matter what you end up as; Hero, Ninety-five, or Villain, you are the type of Prime most likely to become a Daemon."
"I'm confused. The forums said the scariest Primes are Telepaths, and some conspiracy nuts are claiming Telekinetics caused Chernobyl, but no one is saying Primes can become Daemons."
Lucky laughed. "That's because hardly anyone knows where Gobble came from, and the government likes it that way."
"Wait, this can't be right. I thought Daemons were formed when a Prime Manifests the first time, and loses control," Samantha said. "The released power annihilates the Prime and takes on a physical form, but Daemons and explosions are mostly only a danger during the first Manifestation."
"You might want to apply some critical thinking to your narrative," Lucky said. "Up to a quarter of newly Manifested Primes die the moment they discover their power, and a few of those leave a house-sized crater behind. If exploding Primes created Daemons, Civilization would collapse in a heartbeat. We can barely cope with the ten to fifteen we get now, and it might still fall apart if we can't figure out how to fight them better."
Why wouldn't they tell anyone? "You are saying that Biokinetics are Daemons?"
"The numbers are still wrong for that. There’d be a lot more of them if it was Biokinetics in general. There are certain reactions that are common among different types of Primes and the scientists believe Daemons are out of control Metamorphs. Supposedly that is why they are so rare too. All I know is that a few months after Nevernoon a Daemon named Gobble attacked downtown Seattle. It started out as a Hero named Hemogoblin." She paused. "He was an off-the-charts Metamorph who could regrow entire limbs in a couple of hours, until he ran into a pair of telepathic bank robbers." Lucky laughed and threw another rock. "Now he's a case study for most of their data. There was talk for a while about naming a tier of Daemons 'goblins' in homage to his accidental contribution to science."
"You're kinda freaking me out. What does this have to do with healing?" Samantha asked.
"The eggheads say healing speed is an important indicator of which Primes might lose control, so they watch for anyone who heals or changes too fast. They say top tier Metamorphs are the most dangerous people on the planet, just by existing."
"Is there more danger for Primes with additional powers? Is there something I can do to keep it from happening to me?" Samantha pressed her hands together, purposefully slowing her breathing. I don't care what Jon says, I'm not a monster. I'm not.
Lucky held up a hand. "Hold up, honey, you are fine for right now, as long as you don't change your brain too much or try to change all the way into an animal. "
"I can change into animals? No way," Samantha said.
"Yes way, but don't," the Villain said. "The non-human body chemistry messes with our human brains. The result is...unfortunate."
"Great, so I have a power that could give me wings, but if I use it, I might mistake a nearby city for Tokyo and go Godzilla on it." Samantha laughed bitterly. "One more shitty present from a world that excels at giving shitty gifts."
"It isn't as bad as all that. You kids have a habit of thinking the world fell on their dog every time their cable subscription gets cut off." Lucky rolled her eyes.
"That isn't very fair. Besides, you are what, four or five years older than me? You don't know the slightest thing about me. Maybe my parents were murdered and now I'm obsessed with bats, or my planet was destroyed in an apocalypse and I am trapped here, misunderstood and alone." She glared. I don't care who else you've met; you haven't met anyone like me.
"Or you are some kid with delusions of self-importance who isn't from Krypton." Lucky smiled. "Don't get me wrong, you could be Batman, 'cause I haven't seen you both in the same room before...but I think it's unlikely."
Samantha threw a handful of rocks at the row of targets, knocking one over. "Or you have no idea what I've been through and, if you want me to stick around, you won't be a bitch about it." One Villain to another, your bedside manner sucks worse than my parkour.
Lucky sighed. "Fine, fine. Change of subject. Let me show you what a little finesse can do, you barbarian." She pulled a black slingshot out of one of the pouches crisscrossing her body. "This is how it's done." Loaded with a piece of gravel, she pointed it straight in the air above their heads and fired. Almost immediately an empty can flew off the nearby boulder and bounced away.
She winked and loaded again, this time turning to the side and firing into the building behind Samantha. The bottle next to the can exploded.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Samantha asked.
Lucky faked a southern accent, winking again as she shot another can. "Absolutely nothing babe...but that is indisputably how shooting targets is done."
"Ha ha. Very funny. This is serious. I'm a Prime with almost no idea how my power works. I could grow tentacles out of my eyes by accident and get sent to Supermax Prime for being super ugly." I could call myself Eyelash, if such a catastrophe were to happen.
"Um, I don't think that's how any of that works." Lucky frowned, tapping her chin in thought. "Well, changing your hair color is just the beginning. Have you tried any face stuff or claws yet? Most Metamorph I've heard of have some kind of claws and soft tissue is supposed to be the easiest."
"Sounds like a good next step to me. Even if it goes bad, it won't mess up my brain, right? Most days I like my brai
n." Samantha sighed.
"Your brain will be fine if you leave it alone." Lucky said. "Claws are a small enough change to be okay."
Rather than answering, Samantha thought about freckles. A prickling sensation spread across her exposed skin.
"Okay, so this is pretty cool to watch, but are you going for leopard skin or just turning yourself brownish-pink?" Lucky said.
"Freckles. I've always wanted freckles," Samantha said.
Lucky laughed. "Then you dropped a freckle nuke on your face."
"Sketchy." Samantha pushed the changes away and focused on her hands. Freezing pinpricks of power bloomed in her fingertips as she visualized cat claws. This time the pain went deeper, down into her bones. Ripping, stretching. Now I know what it feels like to stick a sewing needle through all my fingers at once. Go me.
Seemingly content to stand on her rock and wait, the other woman fired her slingshot or tossed rocks in random directions. Every single projectile twisted in the air and struck the line of cans she was watching.
A tearing sound, like ripping paper, echoed across the quarry. "That fricken hurts. Ouch." Samantha held up her hands. What have I done?
Lucky slid off her rock, laughing so hard she could barely stand. "That's about as useful as putting your fingers through a pencil sharpener."
Samantha's fingertips had split in half to the first knuckle. A twisted chunk of bone poked out of the loose skin around each one. Some were pointed mostly in the right direction, one was even curved correctly into a blunted tip, but the rest were angled randomly like pieces of uncooked spaghetti.
She touched one with the palm of her hand, ready to flinch. "Seems solid at least." Frowning at the lack of blood, she tapped it against a boulder. Jarring, but not really painful.
Still laughing with tears streaming down her masked face, Lucky stumbled closer. "Just don't bitch slap anyone."
"Hey, I can still get a job working as a bouncer. I'll just hold these babies up and tell the bad guys they are getting the same if they don't leave." Samantha giggled.
Lucky slapped her thighs with one hand, howling and wiping her tears away with the back of her other gloved hand.
I could go by Laughdragon, or The Jokestress. Still fascinated, she stole Lucky's seat on the slab and focused harder, knitting the claws together into normal human fingertips. A few drops of blood dripped to the ground as the final bit of flesh squeezed together, but her hands were otherwise clean.
Lucky dragged herself over, still chuckling. "Don't let it get to you, honey. It took me months to hit anything with my power, and I used to throw up every time I tried to use it on myself. You are off to a good start."
"No, I'm not," Samantha said. "My brother is in prison somewhere and probably thinks I abandoned him. I have foster parents trying to control me, a psychiatrist trying to break me, sketchy weirdos in a van following me, and a mysterious Prime stealing all my secrets. As if that wasn't enough, the government is ready to drag me away for months of forced training if I don't figure out how my power works before they find out I Manifested."
"Nah, all that was only a problem before you met your mysterious new friend. Everything changes when people have your back," Lucky said.
"Maybe I don't need anyone," Samantha replied. "Maybe I have it all figured out on my own."
Lucky plopped down on the other edge of the boulder, suddenly serious. "Tell you what. You slip me your phone, and I will slip you my digits. You can think about what you want, and I can give you a call in a few days, after the team has time to think about you and your power. Information is kind of our thing, and it wouldn't be hard for us to pick up some juicy data on training a Metamorph."
Samantha matched stares with the blonde woman as a thrill ran down her spine. They were close enough to kiss, if she'd wanted to. "It seems like it's pretty long odds you just happened to be here today. Plus, something tells me it's rare for an untrained Prime to get an invite to a team so fast."
Lucky shrugged, grinning. "What can I say, my team is looking to recruit, and I heard another Prime might be looking for a quiet place to train after getting chased out of a public park. I could claim I made a lucky guess, but the truth is we weren't sure where you were going, so the guys are checking out a few other places you might have chosen."
"You are spying on me."
"Hey, I take my spying seriously, but we were actually spying on Supersnitch. The guy is a tool, but he tends to find good stuff, and you slipped past him like a champ." She stopped smiling. "Why look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when it's everything you need? Finding a full spectrum Metamorph, especially one just getting started, is like finding a unicorn with wings." Lucky paused. "You need us. Everyone is on the lookout for new Primes, but you haven't seen the tiniest heat compared to what is going to happen when word gets out which power you have."
Samantha crossed her arms. "Right, right. So far its been a regular walk in the park."
"I didn't say that, but you haven't hit the government's radar yet, babe. At the moment you have choices, but that won’t always be true. Now, we didn't know you were a Metamorph, but we did agree it's a bonus that you don't have any baggage from a past team. We, uh, like to keep a low profile, and team baggage tends to cause problems with that."
"Fine, what exactly do you want from me?" Samantha asked.
Lucky sighed. "Just keep an open mind and think about our offer."
"That would be easy, except you haven't made an offer yet." Samantha said. "You just made some vague comments about training."
"Then give me some time and I will have an offer for you. We are meeting with some customers about a job, but these guys tend to demand all kinds of secret squirrel crap when on the clock. It will be a few days before we are back in town."
"I can do that. If everything is above board, and I don't get a better offer, I will check out your team. By the way, which team are you on? We only have one active Hero team in town, and you don't have wings, or a Mohawk." I haven't seen her in any pictures of Villains either, but that might not mean anything. It's time to confirm my suspicions. "I've never heard of a Hero named Lucky Strike."
Lucky winked. "Who said we were Heroes? There's no money in it for one. Same with pure Villainy, it's so last week." She took a deep breath. "I can't answer questions about the team yet. If they agree to bring you on board, and I think they will, then you can ask whatever you want, and decide after you are satisfied. If the team doesn't like something about you, then you never hear from me again, and you are exactly where you were before you took a mud bath. Deal?"
Tucking her slingshot into a pouch, Lucky threw her last rock straight up. It curved over and bounced off the top of a pop can.
Was that a threat, or just showing off? I'm so far out of my depth here, I could name myself the proverbial lost girl. It fits more than most of my code names so far.
She handed Lucky her phone. "Fine, give me your number, and call me when you can answer my questions...in person. We meet somewhere public, and then, if you have good answers, we can make plans."
Lucky fiddled with Samantha's phone; eyes squinted in concentration.
Samantha waited a minute. "You do know how to use a smartphone, right? A random grandma off the street could have figured it out by now."
After a few more seconds, Lucky offered a wink before tossing it in the air.
The pink phone sailed over to land heavily in Samantha's outstretched hand. She checked her messages and apps before slid it into her belt pouch. It seemed fine.
The Villain held out her hand again, until Samantha shook it. "Sorry about that, I’m used to more advanced tech. Battlestar builds custom phones for the team."
"I hope you are telling me the truth," Samantha said. "I'm not going to sign up with a bunch of petty criminals. I need access to government records and resources to find my brother. Nothing is more important to me than that."
Lucky's steady green eyes held Samantha's brown gaze. "I truly think you are a g
ood fit for the team. We are a bit unorthodox, more like a family than coworkers. Most of all, we are in a unique position to help you with training, and whatever you need to search for your brother. Give us a chance."
They each released the other’s hand.
"Catch ya later babe, and see if you can come up with a code name, something awesome. I gotta run." Lucky turned and ran up a vertical slab of stone lining the quarry wall, ignoring the old dirt road next to it that switched back and forth to the top of the hill.
Maybe Fall Girl would work as my code name. She glanced at her phone. Shit, if I'm going to make it to the Hero thingy, I need to get moving.
Chapter 15
Friday May 21st, 2010
The nice lady bus driver was behind the wheel, still smiling without recognition, and accepting the money wordlessly. I suppose I'd mentally check out too after a few hours of driving random weirdos around.
Two middle aged women sat near the front, both wearing matching blue shirts, with the number ten on the front and a huge thumbs up emoji below it. House Bill 10 supporters. They were both knitting.
House Bill 10 being a proposed new law to force all 95's and private Hero teams into the public sector, complete with required implantable tracking chips and a Prime registry system. So far, most Americans seemed against it, but support for it grew a little every year.
They stopped knitting to stare as Samantha slipped past.
Knitting in public? Sketchy.
A couple of pale teenagers sat near the rear of the bus, two boys and a girl, each wearing shades of black. The girl seemed familiar, but the trio just stared at Samantha without speaking.
Not going to sit back there with them. I am more than enough weirdo for this bus ride without adding a few more into the mix.
The middle seats still felt strange after four years of riding in the back of the school bus, but they smelled better, and an emergency exit was in easy reach across the aisle.
The bus heaved into motion.
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