by Drew Blank
She made it to the end of the second block before I had to pick her up and carry her tired body home. She slept like a rock until the next morning. I spent the night in the uncomfortable, hand-me-down recliner next to the couch, watching her sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
“Can I open my eyes now?” I felt like a five year old waiting for Christmas morning. Twisty led me into Phil and Jim’s place from the building’s main entrance, insisting I keep my hand over my eyes. She was especially giddy and maybe a little delirious due to lack of sleep. The least I could do after all the work she had clearly been doing was oblige her and remain blinded until I was told otherwise.
“One second,” she giggled as I heard the creak of the apartment door. All I could hear was rustling and last minute rummaging as we stepped in. “Okay. Now.” She was still bubbling with laughter. I pulled my hand away from my eyes to find Phil less than four inches from my face with his lips in an exaggerated pucker.
“Hello lover,” he greeted me in mock seduction.
“You guys really need to get some sleep.” I pushed Phil out of my way in hopes of finally seeing the fruits of all their labor. “Seriously.”
“Sleep is overrated,” Jim piped up, almost invisible behind the piles on his desk.
“So, where is everything?” I looked over my shoulder to Twisty. “Why the hell did you have me covering my eyes?”
“I just thought it’d be fun,” she cackled maniacally. “You weren’t anxious to see anything in particular, were you?” She asked with a grin rivaled only by the Cheshire Cat.
“Maybe I am a little anxious, yes. You guys have been working your butts off. I’m dying to see what you…” My words stopped as Phil reentered the room, hanger in hand.
“Is this what you wanted to see?” Phil asked, beaming proudly.
“Ho-ly shit.” My jaw dropped as I finally saw the suit that three weeks earlier existed only in Twisty’s imagination. It was beyond impressive. Investigating further, I ran my fingers up the front of the suit. It was a hard black rubber, molded in the shape of a man’s torso. Definitely more chiseled than my own chest and abs were, however.
“How did you…?”
“We molded it off of the t-shirt mannequin from Tully’s,” Twisty bragged.
“I was wondering where that thing went,” I said, without taking my eyes off the suit. “So, what is this made of?” I did not expect something so sleek looking.
“It’s multi-layered.” Jim got up from his desk, to give me what would be, no doubt, a lengthy explanation of their creation. For once, I was excited to hear every word he had to say. “The upper layer is a durable rubber, mostly for aesthetics and weather proofing. Under that is a layer of my impact resistant sheeting.”
“I love that stuff,” I broke in, referring to the impromptu test I gave Jim’s invention in the kitchen of Head Knockers.
“Yes. I know. You are very lucky.” Jim skimmed past my comment and went right back into his presentation. “Wrapped amidst the titanium mesh are coils capable of heating and cooling the outfit.”
“Wow,” was all I could say.
“Beneath the titanium is a layer of Kevlar, giving you the same protection you received when you got blasted in the chest. It’s a little thick and bulky but necessary to keep you alive.” Jim pulled the neckline out and encouraged me to look inside to see the girth of the material.
“Looks heavy.” I made the obvious observation.
“It is,” Jim reiterated humorlessly, “but it will help keep you from being dead.”
“I can’t argue with that,” I said. “I see we stayed with the short shorts.” I pulled up the bottom of the suit, flashing a look over to Twisty.
“Don’t blame her. I told her to keep it that way. I guarantee if the legs were too long you’d have a ride up issue and nobody is intimidated by a guy constantly pulling his pants out of his crack.” As dull as Jim was, he still had a way of making me laugh.
“So, how do I get into this thing?” Upon further examination, it occurred to me there was no zipper or anything. It certainly wasn’t stretchy enough to just pull it on.
“Metal buckles here.” Jim twisted the garment so I could see directly under the right armpit. “It’ll stay tight and leaves you with no vulnerable spots in front or back.”
“Speaking of vulnerable,” Phil found his way into the conversation holding something that looked like an extra large rubber fanny pack “your codpiece, sir.” With an exaggerated British accent, Phil bowed and presented me with groin protection as if it were a medal of honor. “It is also where we placed the rechargeable battery pack, so it is not an optional accessory. Here. Try it on.” I knew that one accessory would be the focal point of much harassment from my dear friends.
“I’ll try it on in a bit. Thanks.” I waved my hand, motioning for Phil to put the codpiece down.
“So what else ya got?” I clapped my hands together, ready to unwrap another present.
“These.” Jim pushed aside stacks of tools and leftover pieces cluttering his desk to pull out a pair of long black gloves. “You’re gonna love these.” To see Jim get excited about anything was truly a rare occurrence, so I knew the gloves had more purpose than to just keep my fingers toasty. Without a word, Jim came at me and slid one of the gloves onto my arm. It came up past my elbow and halfway to my shoulder. Unlike your typical winter-wear, this glove was heavy and cumbersome. It would definitely take some getting used to.
“Okay. Why is this glove, like, a hundred pounds?” While a hundred may have been an exaggeration, there was no doubt I would get a work out by wearing those gloves long enough.
“They only weigh six point eight pounds each, so stop whining.” Jim was at the top of the glove adjusting the cuff.
“I just hope I don’t need to sign my name or pick up anything smaller than a baseball,” I commented while waving my hand in front of me, pointing out the excess room in the fingertips.
“Oh, I forgot.” Jim pushed a button installed at the cuff and with a quick hissing sound the glove shrank until it was skin tight around my fingers. “Vacuum sealed for freshness.” Jim gave a smile. This was the first time, in all the years I knew him, that I had ever seen Jim so jolly.
“Now, notice along the arm you have six rods.” Jim ran his hand along my forearm. “This is a titanium frame the glove is built around. It will protect you from crowbar wielding thugs or any other unforeseen blunt force attacks. It also runs up to the fist, so I guarantee when you hit someone they will feel it.”
“Cool.” I was still having difficulty forming words to express what I was feeling.
“Hold up. That’s not the best part. Grab onto this.” Jim held out a length of chain in front of me. As I balled up my fist around the chain, it felt almost robotic. The metal encasing my fingers was an unusual, but comforting feeling. “Now, keep your hand closed with just a little bit of pressure.” What Jim was doing was a complete mystery to me, but I had no problem mirroring his enthusiasm.
“I designed this after a hook my company manufactures. It’s a three prong claw used for heavy tools being stored overhead. You can slip anything past the prongs with ease but it is virtually impossible to pull anything from its grip once in the prongs’ hold.” Jim began tugging on the opposite ends of the chain. “I will not be able to get this out of your grasp until you release it.”
“Really? That’s crazy.” I was overwhelmed by Jim’s
genius.
“Now let go,” he instructed me. I simply opened my hand and the chain fell to the floor.
“Whoa. This is fucking awesome!” I really couldn’t believe what those three had accomplished in such a short time. “So, could I crush a bowling ball with these things?” I couldn’t stop staring at the glove as I opened and closed my fist repeatedly.
“Can you crush a bowling ball with your bare hands now?” Jim asked.
“Umm…no.” I answered.
“Then no, you can’t.” I had grown
accustomed to feeling stupid around Jim and Phil. “These gloves don’t make you any stronger. But in a fight, if you can get a hold of an arm or a leg, the other guy might as well be in a bear trap.”
“And what are these?” On both the pinkie and index finger there were two small metal nubs, just big enough for me to take notice.
“Those were my idea,” Phil bragged, obviously wanting to take his turn to show off. “They are electrodes.”
“Electrodes?” I repeated, immediately concerned.
“Yeah. You have gotten a lot of use out of that stun gun. I figure this will make it easier than carrying around the actual device,” Phil defended his addition.
“And is this safe?” I asked, still not sold on the idea.
“Yeah. That’s why they are on those fingers. You would really have to make an effort to touch your pinkie to your index finger, so there is very little chance they would make contact.” As Phil told me this, I played with my fingers, discovering that he was right.
“So, how does it work?” It was obvious Phil had put some thought into his contribution to the glove. The least I could do was give it a chance.
“Do the devil horns,” Phil said through his typical
shit-eating grin. To my confused and blank expression he instructed me further. “You know. Heavy metal. The horns?” He flashed me the sign.
“The metal horns?” I was always cautious when it came to putting myself in a position where Phil could make me look stupid. Him convincing me to put up the rocker’s salute with the hope of shooting electricity from my fingertips definitely felt like a trap. “Are you fucking with me?”
“No. He’s not.” Jim broke in as the voice of reason. “In the palm you will find a trigger. When you hit it with your middle and ring fingers while the electrodes are lined up on your other two fingers, you’ll produce a charge of approximately a million volts. Give it a try.” I couldn’t help feeling like I was being set up to look like a moron, but I raised up my gloved fist, extended my pinkie and index finger and clicked the trigger in my palm. Nothing. A failure followed by uproarious laughter from Twisty and Phil. Jim just grimaced.
“Oops. It’s not hooked up to the battery. Sorry ‘bout that.” As much as he wanted to join in the mocking of my ridiculous metal head stance, Jim remained all business. “Why don’t you just go put on the suit. I’ll get it all hooked up and we’ll show you the rest.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I took the suit from Phil and headed to the restroom. “And if I find out this metal horns thing is bullshit, you both are in for a world of hurt.” I pointed back at Twisty and Phil.
“Oh, just go get into your tights, you little girl,” Twisty laughed.
The suit fit amazingly well. I was not accustomed to wearing anything so snug, but the thick layers kept me from feeling self-conscious. After throwing a few phantom punches and kicks to the mirror, I returned to the family room to get further enlightened regarding all my new gear.
The moment I exited the bathroom, I received catcalls from both Twisty and Phil.
“Whoo hooo! Sexy man!”
“Hot stuff! Strut that shit!”
“You like?” I did a supermodel turn to show off the goods.
“Damn. You look good, babe.” Twisty was not one to throw around compliments, so receiving one put me more at ease, even if she was the one that designed it. It was not imperative that I look good for our business endeavor, but I didn’t want to look like an idiot, either.
“It really does work,” Phil commented. “Let’s get the rest on you.” He waved the codpiece at me, tauntingly.
“Couldn’t that have been designed to go under the suit?” I asked.
“Yeah, but it wouldn’t be nearly as funny,” Phil chuckled his reply.
“Relax,” Jim told me. “Once everything is all connected you won’t even notice it. Now put it on.” Begrudgingly, I wrapped the piece around my waist and under my legs. I had to admit, Jim was right. It was not an obtrusive addition to the outfit and who was I to complain about the benefit of added safety?
I slid the gloves back onto my arms and also traded my sneakers for the boots. “These seem much heavier than before,” I commented as I strapped the boots tightly around my calves.
“They are titanium reinforced, just like the gloves,” Jim informed me.
“You are all about the titanium, aintcha?” I jokingly observed.
“It’s lightweight and strong. You’ll be happy we could afford it,” Jim said as he stepped behind me, making last minute adjustments. “The frame goes all the way up to your thighs, giving you some good shock absorption and extra protection for your knees.”
“Shock absorption?” I asked, puzzled.
“Well, if you decide to jump out a three story window and somehow manage to land on your feet, the metal frame will take the brunt of the impact.”
“And you told me the impact resistance stuff would help me in the event I fall from five stories. Are you planning on me falling a lot?” I half joked.
“I plan for everything,” Jim deadpanned as he unraveled something from the cuff of my right glove.
“Ooh. The tattoos. Those turned out awesome, if I do say so myself,” Twisty cooed as Jim fastened a heavy flesh colored nylon from glove to sleeve. It was airbrushed with a nondescript tribal design that wrapped around my arm.
“Yeah. They do look very nice.” Jim shocked everybody in the room by actually paying Twisty a compliment. “And they work perfectly to attach the gloves to the suit for battery power,” he commented as he snapped the canvas to the rubber of the suit, adjoining the two.
“How’s it do that?” I felt like I had done nothing since I entered but ask questions.
“Under your arm here,” Jim ran a finger along a thin line sewn into the faux tattooed skin. “When snapped into place, it automatically hooks up to the main power generated in your…ummm…”
“Jock strap?” Phil burst out, forcing him and Twisty to fall into an hysterical fit of laughter. I was hoping the codpiece would be less funny once they got some sleep.
“It hooks up to the battery power stored here.” Ignoring the other two, Jim pointed to my hip, where a small rectangular bulge was formed into the hard rubber. “Try the stun feature now.”
Again hesitant, I lifted my hand, extended my outer digits and pushed the trigger in my palm. With a loud clacking noise, an impressive purple arc of energy spread from pinkie to index finger.
“Awesome,” I whispered in amazement. “How long will the battery power of the suit last?” Watching the electricity spark from my fingers, it occurred to me that my time would be limited.
“You have back ups all along your belt line here.” Jim pointed to three more rectangular shapes along my waist. “If you aren’t running heating or cooling systems, you could last for days. At full power, you can make it about eight hours before needing a recharge.”
“And how do I activate the heating and cooling?” For all the gadgets the suit seemed to have, there were not many buttons.
“We handle all that remotely,” Phil jumped in and answered me. “Check this out.” He scurried over to his desk, pushing aside a mountain of junk. I wasn’t sure how I didn’t notice them when I came in, but Phil had set up a control center consisting of six flat screen computer monitors; three on top and three on the bottom. With the flick of a switch, they all came to life.
“Well, it looks like I’m not the only one getting new toys. This is sweet!” I openly admired Phil’s set up.
“Four of these will be hooked up to the camera stakes I showed you the other day. That way we can keep an eye on your surroundings. This one is how we will monitor the suit.” On one screen were bars registering power capacity, suit damage and countless other meters and numbers that meant nothing to me, but I am sure were all programmed to help keep me alive. “And this monitor…”
“Is for gay porn,” Twisty interrupted.
“Yes. Thank you Twisty,” Phil smugly humored h
er before going on. “And when I am not watching hot man on man action with this monitor, I will be busy seeing what you see.”
“How are you gonna do that?” Another question from me. As if they had practiced the transition, Twisty ran to the kitchen and came back with something that resembled a dead cat.
“With the finishing touch.” Twisty held up the weird mound of whatever it was she had retrieved from the kitchen.
“Twisty came up with this one.” Not only had Jim paid Twisty a compliment, but now he was giving her credit for an idea. Two weeks working together had certainly changed their typical bickering dynamic. “While Phil and I were not too concerned with giving you any head gear, Twisty thought whatever brain was in there should be protected.”
“You guys were too focused on protecting my more valuable assets,” I motioned down to the codpiece. “I see where your priorities lie.” I couldn’t let Jim’s not too subtle jab go unreturned.
“Yes. I am extremely gay and all I am concerned about is preserving your genitals for my own lustful needs. Ya happy?” Jim took all the fun out of mockery. “Now, I made an elastic helmet that will hold tightly to your skull, like a bald cap. It’s layered with thin Kevlar strips to give you a decent amount of protection.”
“And I made it look like your hair!” Twisty excitedly added.
“A wig? Are you kidding? I think I’d rather wear nothing but the codpiece than wear a wig,” I protested.
“I don’t care what you would rather do,” Twisty got stern with me. “You are not going out there without some form of head protection. Also, do you really think the big Audrey Hepburn sunglasses are a decent enough disguise? Once pictures of you start popping up on the news, and they will, do you honestly think Dom is going to have a hard time identifying you?”
“So I am going to wear a brown wig to disguise my brown hair?” Her logic had me mystified.