I chuckled to myself as I returned to the writing desk with my cup of coffee.
Here’s where the magic happens, I thought, cracking my knuckles.
Hemingway once said, ‘What a writer in our time has to do is write what hasn’t been written before or beat dead men at what they have done.’
Not one for buying a shovel and digging up a bunch of corpses, I figured I’d just try to reinvent the wheel.
“Quiet, you,” I told the coffee, which had clearly started thrashing my adenosine receptors, opening a floodgate of crazy thoughts.
I powered up the laptop, and then, as usual, I got distracted.
Angel was in the closet, and I figured what I was writing should begin with the superpowered motherfucker. Besides, I’d left a blank chapter called ‘Mother and Angel,’ and was hoping to flesh it out.
I opened the closet and tossed the backpack onto the bed.
“Hey!” Angel grumbled from inside.
“Time to wake up,” I said. “Now, I’m not opening the backpack ‘cause I don’t want to get my finger bitten off, but if you’d be so kind, would you mind answering a few questions?”
“Fuck you, Gideon,” came his response, the backpack bouncing up and down.
“Come on, Angel.” I grabbed my cup of coffee and took a slurp. “I know we started as enemies, but maybe we could become frenemies instead. You scratch my back, I … I don’t let Veronique drain your ass anymore.”
He snorted. “She won’t listen to you.”
“We’re having a sexual relationship, FYI, and I believe I may be able to convince her through my power of seduction to be nicer to you.”
Angel actually laughed. “What in the hell are you talking about? You aren’t really that delusional, are you?”
I had to think about that for a minute.
Maybe I really am that delusional.
“Can you blame me?” I asked the backpack. “Similar to how you like to pork Mother, Veronique and I also have relations.”
The backpack lifted into the air some and I swallowed hard. I wasn’t expecting that; I was hoping my dry humor would inspire him to lighten up a bit. “Keep that shit up and I’ll have someone drown you.”
“Who was the girl in here earlier?” he asked, switching subjects. “She was practically running back and forth.”
“You heard?”
“How could I not hear? She’s been pacing for the last few hours and driving me insane. It’s not even pacing; it’s more like jogging in place. She was singing a song too. What the hell is going on? Let me out of here, dammit!” The backpack hopped up and down again, its time in the air more prolonged now.
I went back to the closet and found the metal bat I’d seen earlier, tucked behind the clothes; I figured it would help if things got out of hand.
“Long story, but that’s not what I want to talk about. I want to know more about you.”
“How many times does a man have to say ‘fuck you’ for you to get the picture?”
“I hate to break it to you, Angel, but you’re a head in a backpack, and I have a baseball bat.” I swung the bat onto the bed, slamming it down just inches away from the backpack.
“I should have killed you on the rooftop.”
“You should have. Hell, you even had a second chance to take me out – a third chance, too! But you fucked up, and I now I need some info. Let’s keep this brief, or else …”
“What?”
“I cave your skull in,” I said, hoping he didn’t hear the hesitation in my voice. “Now, back in New Haven, you apparently tried to escape. Tell me about that.”
He laughed long and hard. “You aren’t strong enough to cave my skull in.”
I smacked the bed again. I didn’t do it too hard, but it did jostle the backpack.
“Hey!”
“Answer the question.”
“It’s not like it matters anyway.”
“I’ll be the decider of that.”
“It was a few years back, before I found out just how … before she came to me.”
“Mother?” I asked. “What’s her real name, by the way?”
“If she wants you to know her real name, she’ll tell you herself.” He laughed again. “Or she may kill you first. Because next time you two meet, she isn’t going to ask any questions or keep you alive. There’s something I can tell you, but you should have already figured it out by now. She’ll have you ripping your eyes out and eating them.”
“That’s gruesome,” I said, sorely tempted to give the backpack a nudge with the bat. “I was wondering why she asked questions in the first place. Seems like it would be easier to just fillet me.”
“For once, you and I are on the same page.”
“See, I told you we’re more alike than you thought,” I reminded him. “But I’ve broken free from the restraints of society; you tried to break free and came back with your tail tucked beneath your legs.”
“I almost got away,” he said, his voice softening as he relived the memory. “I even managed to take it out.”
“It?”
“The port in my neck. It took Dorian, Veronique, and Victoria to eventually stop me.”
Dorian and Veronique know Victoria? I thought as I remembered the woman made of steel. This annoyed me in a way; it always felt like they didn’t quite give me the info I needed, that they were holding back.
But I let those feelings pass as I refocused on Angel. “What happened? How did they get you?”
“I can fly; it’s pretty easy to get away. So I got away.”
“This was from the Rose-Lyle Facility, correct?”
“It was. And I first went north, just moving along the coastline. Freedom. It was true freedom. I ended up in Provincetown.”
“The gay colony?”
“Is there another Provincetown?”
I shrugged. “Probably. For some reason, people aren’t too creative in America when it comes to naming cities. That’s why there are so many duplicates. Anyway, I know what you’re talking about. In Massachusetts, Cape Cod, that Provincetown.”
“It took them a day to come after me and …” He cleared his throat. “I won the first fight. Handed them their asses. By myself. Freedom will do that to you.”
“It’s the old cornered dog thing.”
“Whatever. I wouldn’t liken myself to an animal or a normal, like yourself.”
I tapped the bat on the bed, reminding him who was in charge here.
“Fuck you and your bat,” he said.
“Story or I hit a home run.”
“You couldn’t hit a home run to save your pathetic life. But anyway, I took out a couple of bars on Commercial Street but finally got away. That damn Veronique and her power had me feeling weak, and Dorian had a winged beast made of energy flying after me; I lost to them eventually. I figured out then that they were tracking me, and there was only one way for them to do it.”
“Your drive?”
“So I dropped down into Boston, found one of those hardware superstores, and took a knife. I forced the drive out and continued west.”
“How did they find you?”
“Someone spotted me flying. It was months later. I’d kept a pretty low profile, but someone saw me flying in Mansfield, Ohio, and called the FBI, who relayed the information to the agency overseeing our program.”
“What can you tell me about that agency? I’ll be honest, I thought it was just Mother and a bunch of private security goons, MercSecure.”
“Another thing we can agree on: they aren’t the best security company. But then again, they’re tasked with protecting people who have surpassed them, who have evolved, so what can you expect?”
“Does the agency have a name?”
“Subject One is the name of the project, as it is based on the super abilities of Mother and creating offspring from her. The project is overseen by a DoD agency known as the Agency of Enhancement and Future Logistics, or AEFL, which they pronounce as ‘ay-full.’”
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“Sounds awful.”
“That’s not the first time I’ve heard that joke. You aren’t a funny man.”
“There are some people who would disagree, but I’m more interested in you at the moment,” I said, pretty sure I saw the AEFL stamp I’d seen on some of David Butler’s documents. At least it looked familiar. “How did they get you? You said you fought them off the first time.”
“I did, but they came at me when I wasn’t expecting it. And that damn Veronique. The other two I could deal with, but once she latches on, she’s like a goddamn leech. Victoria may be strong, and her punches hurt like hell, but she’s slow. At that time, Dorian couldn’t teleport. I don’t know where she picked that up, but her energy creations weren’t that big of a deal. More of a nuisance than anything, especially the bigger ones.”
“Another thing we have in common,” I told Angel. “I’ve been drained by her too.”
“And you said you were having relations with her? Has anyone told you that you’re an idiot?”
“Says the literal motherfucker in the backpack. Remember, I’m not against cracking you in the skull with this bat.”
“Do it then. I’ll just re-heal.”
“About that,” I said, hoping to keep him talking for a bit longer before I started writing. “How have you managed to stay alive.”
“I already told you I can heal, and you’ve already seen my body try to regrow.”
“But what about your internal organs? I’m no doctor.”
“Clearly. You’re just a writer – and a poor one from what Mother has told me.”
“Do you even read?”
“Yes.”
“What do you read?”
“Books you wouldn’t like.”
“What? Like military sci-fi? I’m not good with weapons, guns, and whatnot, so I’ve never really gotten into that stuff.”
“I don’t read sci-fi. Why would I want to read some made up science bullshit when there are actual science books out there? I read books on aviation.”
I started to laugh. “That’s awesome.”
“What’s so awesome about books on aviation?”
“You tell me; you’re the one that reads them.”
“I just like them, dammit! Is our interrogation over?”
“Sure, just tell me more about your healing. Is there any way to actually kill you?”
“Why would I tell anyone that?”
I shrugged. It was a good question, and his response was equally fitting. I thought about hitting him with the bat just because but decided against it. That said, I didn’t want him hanging out in the closet, possibly poisoning the young minds that may come in and out of the room.
And that was another thing. If the Super Teens joined us, how the hell would we explain Angel? I mean, Grace could do her whole ‘reveal the truth’ schtick, but even then, this was a delicate situation.
“Why are you being so quiet?”
“Sorry, I was thinking about what needs to happen next.”
Angel laughed. “If you were smart, you’d kill yourself before Mother fries your brain and kills all the superpowered bitches who have somehow fallen under your spell.”
I swung the bat at the backpack as hard as I could and Angel cried out in pain. He didn’t say anything after that, and rather than put up with his decapitated ass (which makes no sense, but you get me), I tossed the backpack into the closet and sat down at my laptop.
Ready to get started for real now, I cracked my knuckles again and settled in for work. First I checked my sales – hell, yeah! – and then started fleshing out Angel and Mother’s chapter, from the interrogation to what Angel had just told me.
By the time the CBGs and the Super Teens started to wake, I was already five thousand words in.
Of course, since it was creative nonfiction, I did add some embellishments, but the story was there, it was solid, and the narrative was building.
Build!
And now we had a target: the Agency of Enhancement and Future Logistics and their experiment, Subject One. It was weird I hadn’t noticed much about this yet, especially with David Butler’s notes back in Austin and Dr. Kim’s stuff. But whatever. I never prided myself on being able to cull through data; nope, I was as right-brained as they came, so my general approach involved creativity.
Still, I needed to at least see if I could piece any more deets together.
I opened the folder Ken had given me and found a few random documents, immediately spotting the AEFL tag. It hadn’t been redacted or anything; I just simply hadn’t noticed it before.
So the info was there, and I had a feeling there was a bunch more in Ken’s folders that would help. Even as the supers started moving in the hallway, I began watching some of the videos, trying to sort them.
The first ones I came to were of Veronique. I’d seen these, the snuff vids. I watched them again though, now that I knew Veronique and what she was capable of. At least she seemed happier now. She had a placid look on her face in most of the recordings, a psychotic visage if I’d ever seen one.
I would have continued going through the videos if Stella hadn’t come in. Her black armor hugged her body, and her blond hair was in its long braid. “Breakfast,” she said. “Veronique told us you would cook. And then after …”
“I remember,” I said, closing the laptop. “And sure, I’ll whip something up.”
Chapter Fifteen: Breakfast of Champions
Damn if Michelle didn’t eat us out of house and home last night. I’d figured she would have to consume more due to her heightened metabolism, but I wasn’t expecting to see the kitchen completely wiped out.
Luckily, Dorian had already taken care of getting more food, using some of the cash we’d stolen two days back. She appeared in the kitchen at about the same time I was going to go find her, carrying plastic bags in her arms.
“Did it mess up the food?” I asked, wondering if teleporting would somehow cook the eggs.
It hadn’t, and as she set the bags on the counter and began taking items out, I looked at her healing cherry blossoms tattoo.
Instinctively, I touched my own, which had completely scabbed over. I’d stopped cleaning it, but it would be fine.
“I’m starved,” Ingrid said, approaching the bar. She wore some borrowed clothes, which only made me realize that if we were to host the Super Teens, we’d have to get a lot more food and a lot more clothing.
“Breakfast will be ready shortly.”
My phone buzzed; a message from Luke.
Luke: Never heard back from you. All is well?
Me: We’ll talk in person in a bit. Let’s just say our numbers have grown by four.
Luke: All women?
Me: Yes, technically yes.
Luke: You do realize that you are experiencing a real-life harem now, right? Like when it first started, there were just two, so that wasn’t quite a harem but shit, it was close enough. Then the teleporter came, and the harem solidified, and now four more. This is some anime shit.
Me: All but one are underage.
Luke: Really? You have teens there?
Me: It was unexpected. I have to make breakfast and see to their abilities. They may be leaving, dunno. I’ll contact you in a few hours.
I started cracking eggs just as a breeze whipped by. Michelle came to a stop next to me holding a watering can.
“Eggs? Are you making eggs? That’s great? What else? Can I help? I know how to do stuff. I can cut things super-fast! Let me show you.”
“What are you watering?”
“I’m not,” she said.
Fiona’s water form reverse poured out of the can and took shape next to Michelle.
“Shit!” I would have dropped the eggs had it not been for Grace, who caught the carton midair and lifted them back onto the counter.
“Now, girls, don’t do things like that to Writer Gideon,” she said, smiling at me in an incredibly cute way. She was still dressed as Rias Gremory, and Michelle and
Fiona lost interest in me when Grace morphed to her base form, this time in a pair of Totoro pajamas.
“That’s so cool!” Michelle said.
“Can you turn into me?” Fiona asked.
Moments later Grace was a practical clone of Fiona – auburn hair, slick skin that was always a bit wet, and a one-piece bathing suit. She also had Fiona’s dimples, her long nose, and hazel eyes.
“Me! Me!” Michelle said, bouncing up and down.
In a few seconds, Grace was rail thin and had Michelle’s black hair with the characteristic pink streak down the side.
“Do you have our powers too?” Fiona asked. “Can you do this?” Her hand turned to water but remained in the shape of a hand with fingers elongating and spiraling at the end.
“I can’t,” Grace said in Michelle’s voice. “I don’t have the ability to use your abilities. I could trick you, though.” She morphed back into Fiona, took another look at Fiona’s hand, and her own began to crystallize and turn clear. Still, she wasn’t able to do much more than make it appear as if she had Fiona’s power.
The water user touched Grace’s hand. “That’s … strange,” she finally said.
“Please, food,” Ingrid growled from the countertop. Not wanting her to take the she-beast form, I told Michelle to crack all the eggs in a bowl and mix them up. She was done seconds later, much to my surprise.
“How?”
She shrugged and asked me what else I wanted her to do.
Damn me for always referencing X-Men, but I couldn’t avoid recalling the scene in Days of Future Past in which Quicksilver zipped around the room while everyone else moved in slow motion. It must be like that, I thought as I added a dash of milk to the eggs.
“Who wants to help make the pancakes?”
“Fee and I can do it,” Michelle said, and within seconds, she had a bowl with the pancake mix inside. Fiona held her hand over the bowl, a spurt of water shooting from her palm.
“Sure, that’s one way to do it,” I told her. “You won’t feel weak or anything, will you?”
Fiona shook her head. “Nope. I absorb hydrogen and oxygen from the air constantly, which is why my skin is always a bit wet. See?” She showed me her arm. Droplets of water stretched across her forearm as if she’d been sweating.
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