Please Don't Tell My Parents I've Got Henchmen

by Richard Roberts

  None of us got an answer. Claudia just stood there.

  I stared at her until it hit me. Her eyes were red and shiny, her face tight.

  Claudia was crying. She was careful not to make any noise, but she was crying.

  Bull caught on as fast as I did, maybe faster. He reached his other arm around, but Claudia lifted a hand, pushing it away. She took a step away, entirely out of his grip.

  She didn't look angry. She looked like someone who was, well, trying not to cry.

  Voice hushed, Ray asked, “Did Marcia hurt you?”

  Claudia's answer came in a hoarse whisper. “No.”

  Of all of us, only Bull didn't look confused. He sat on his knees, which brought him close to eye level with her. We were forgotten. So soft and gentle I could barely hear him over the kids yelling in the distance, he asked, “Is it always this bad, Cat?”

  She didn't move, or say anything. The silence stretched, until Bull answered his own question. “It's usually worse.” He sounded sad, horrified, and confident in his conclusion.

  Father and daughter looked at each other. “You don't have to do this,” Bull told her.

  “I said I would.”

  “That's not set in stone.”

  Claudia's rigidly blank face became a scowl, and determination paved over the wobbling in her voice. “It has to be me. It has to be someone strong enough that they don't think they have a chance.”

  They watched each other for a few more seconds. Bull said, “You're set on this.”

  No answer.

  Sighing, Bull put a hand on her shoulder, and cupped the other over the top and back of her head. “When you want out, tell me. I'll get you out. That goes for anything. You're my little girl, Cat.”

  The dam broke, or at least sprung a leak. Claudia started to sniffle, staring down at the ground as a few tears fell. “I guess I am,” she whispered, raw.

  Beside me, Claire shook her head, faster and faster, unable to shake the confusion. “I don't get this. It doesn't make sense. You've been beating up everything from street thugs to the most powerful monsters on the planet for almost a year, and you break down crying after every single time?”

  “Adrenaline is a rush,” said Bull, his eyes never leaving Claudia. “Some people love it. For some people, it hurts.”

  “Can we talk about something else?” Claudia rasped.

  Bull nodded, climbing to his feet. One hand stayed on Claudia's head. “Alright. There's no shortage.” His eyes scanned the lot, and his voice went back to 'patient and mild.' “Tell me, you four. Who do you think is the most dangerous child out there?”

  I tried to push Claudia's problems out of my head and pay attention. It didn't take long. I pointed. “Her.”

  She wasn't even on the recess ground. A gawky high school girl with dirty blonde hair in a ponytail, wearing ragged jeans and a t-shirt, sat on the bleachers behind the fence with her elbows on her knees and nodding to whatever played on her headphones.

  Bull agreed. I could tell. He raised an eyebrow, but he was trying too hard to look noncommittal. “What makes you think she has powers at all?”

  Ray answered that one. “The cat ears on her headphones are floating, not attached. And look at how big the earpieces are. They should be heavy, but she acts like they're earbuds. That's mad science.”

  My turn. “It's her attitude that proves she's dangerous. She's like us, not excited, not getting involved. She's watching the kids play. She's a professional.” The girl who was masquerading as me. Had to be.

  “She's mostly watching the kids who picked the hero side,” noted Claire. “She's a supervillain, here to scope out who she may have to fight someday.”

  “Cat?” Bull asked.

  Flat, her voice still a little raspy, Claudia answered, “They're all dangerous. I don't give them a chance to show me how.”

  Bull nodded, his approving gaze sweeping all four of us. “All good answers.”

  Something very strange, or at least unexpected, caught my eye. Ray reacted first, pointing and asking the rest of us slowly, “Is… that dangerous?”

  'That' was a robot. Bright yellow, human shaped but obviously not human. She had a helmet of sculpted yellow hair down to her shoulders, and a skirt that looked like a fixed part of her body. She was carrying a huge basket in both arms, and heading straight for the five of us.

  The kids out sparring were too busy to notice her, but Barbara saw her and gawked. “Mom! What are you doing here?”

  “Now that everyone knows you have powers, I can pick you up from school publicly, can't I? That just makes sense,” said the robot. Her voice was just a little bit metallic and synthesized, and her mouth moved, but too stiffly. Her face was made of soft yellow plastic. All of her seemed to be made of plastic. And when she got closer, she smelled faintly of gasoline.

  Bull suddenly looked awkward, reaching one arm back to scratch his head behind his horns. He gave the robot an awkward half grin. “Polly. You're looking happy.”

  “Hold these, please,” the robot woman said, pressing the basket into Ray's hands. Her arms free, she pounded her fist into Bull's chest repeatedly, in rhythm with her words. “You are a very, very, very stupid person, Bull, and I am glad you are finally making sense.”

  He couldn't even look her in the eyes. Robot she might be, but this plastic woman was not particularly big. There was no sign Bull's super tough body even felt the punches, but the eight foot tall slab of truck-lifting beef looked completely intimidated. “I know. You were right.”

  “Of course I am right. I am very good at understanding the needs of children, for a grownup. You have been completely stupid, and I love you.” With that, she threw her arms as far around him as she could reach in a hug.

  Bull's arms closed around her, but stopped, not quite touching. Looking around for a distraction, he settled on us. “Kids, this is Polly Vinyl Chloride, my…”

  “Little sister,” said Polly, her voice stubbornly emphatic. Letting go of Bull, she turned to us – or rather, to me. “You are Penelope Akk, and I have been asked to bring you this letter-” she tucked one out of a pocket that was more of a slot in her skirt, holding it out, “-and this basket. More accurately, the contents of the basket, although you also get to keep the basket. That just makes sense.” When I took the letter, she retrieved the oversized wicker picnic basket from Ray. It was also full of letters.

  I opened the note she'd handed to me specifically. Ray and Claire crowded in close, and through three pairs of glasses we read:

  Dear Miss Akk,

  I have volunteered to centralize the delivery of thank-you gifts from both halves of the super powered community. Bull has made many friends through the years, and some of them wanted to give you cards, and others more material rewards. Most know of your role in his retirement through a circulating video, and have hazy and conflicting ideas of who you are, so I thought it would be easiest if I acted as intermediary.

  Here are the cards. I am having the gifts delivered to your latest 'hangout,' as children call it.

  Gratefully Yours,

  Spider

  Oooookay. Well. I picked a card out of the basket at random. It was a store-bought card, with a big soulful puppy picture and a huge 'THANK YOU' printed on the front. Inside was hand-printed, 'Thank you, Bad Penny, for rescuing the lostest puppy I know. From, Evisceration.'

  Oooookay, some more.

  Polly picked a plain white stock card, and held it out. “This is the most important and pertinent card. I read very quickly upside down, for a grownup.”

  I looked at this one. In silvery cursive so neat that it took me a minute to recognize it was handwriting, the note read 'You have accomplished what I have failed at so many times. I owe you a favor, and from the bottom of my heart, I thank you.' It was signed 'Marianne.'

  Bull's funny black eyes bugged out. His hand shook as he reached for the card, but like with hugging Polly, he stopped just before taking it. “Marianne cares that much?”


  Polly put her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “Well, of course she does. We all still care, Bull. It doesn't make sense to think we wouldn't.”

  Totally at sea, I asked, “Is Marianne someone special?”

  Bull's answer came very slow and careful. “This card is something special. Or what it says is, rather. You have your very own guardian angel. Someday, when you need it, someone will be there for you.”

  “Like… to rescue me from danger?” A Get Out Of Death Free card sounded pretty useful.

  “It could just be a warning, or a shoulder to cry on when you're alone. Marianne doesn't fight. But yes, someday you'll need an angel, and one will save you.”

  I considered this. “Huh. That's cool.” What else could I say? The idea seemed less odd by the minute. I personally knew of an infallible fortune telling machine and a villain who made others unlucky, so why not this?

  When I looked up, the yellow robot woman curtsied. “And I wish to thank you personally, both for helping my stupid, stupid brother, and for being good to one of my step-daughters. Barbara has experienced isolation issues since her sister contracted militant schizophrenia.”

  'Militant schizophrenia.' That was one way to describe someone more in contact with spooky dark beings from beyond than with mundane time and space, sure.

  “How…?” Bull started to ask. He seemed afraid to say anything to Polly.

  “Abigail is improving, as long as we can keep her taking her anti-psychotics. She is holding down a steady if non-standard part-time job, and I hope that she will be able to return to school next year. Of course she got a perfect score on the GED, but that isn't the same. Barbara has decided to avoid medication as long as she functions well without it, which I think makes sense. She is able to use her powers more and hears voices less since she made super powered friends. The club also keeps her busy in the afternoons, which is fortunate since my work as a lunar secretary does not always match her hours.”

  At that, Bull interrupted her steady, rhythmic explanation. He crowed, “You got a job in space?” and swept her up in a hug, holding her to his chest with her feet dangling.

  “Of course. I'm very organized for a grownup.” There was no 'of course' about it. Polly sounded crowingly triumphant.

  Suddenly realizing what he'd done, Bull put Polly back on the ground, and took a quick step back out of embracing range. Hanging his head, he muttered, “I'm sorry.”

  Polly frowned, and pounded Bull's chest with her fist again. “You are very, very, very stupid. The only person who stopped loving you is you.”

  Bull laughed. It was sheepish and guilty, but it was a laugh. Hesitantly, he reached an arm out, and hooked it around Polly's shoulders.

  She puffed out her chest, the seams around the plastic plates visibly expanding to show the softer plastic that filled the joints. Proud and triumphant, she reached out both her hands and took mine. “You have made my brother, my foster mother, my niece, my friend Goodnight, my stepdaughters, and me all happier, Penelope Akk. I do not have special powers to know when you need help, but you are my second best friend now. I keep very careful track of these things, for a grownup. I hope I can help you someday.”

  I wasn't sure what to say. To be honest, I felt kind of poleaxed. Bull saved me by giving Polly a tug, turning her to face Claudia.

  With a hand on each of their shoulders, he said, “Polly, I’m not sure if you’ve met my daughter Catherine. Cat, this is your aunt. You’ll like her. She’s very friendly, for a grownup.”

  That gave me an out. “I think… I should go home. I’m a little overwhelmed.” Tesla’s Rubber Soled Shoes, was that ever true. I felt like I’d wandered into someone else’s story, and had no idea what was going on. Every once in awhile, I got socked in the face that other people had lives, and in Bull's case he'd been living a busy life for sixty years.

  Bull nodded. “You do that. But you and your friends make sure to show up for the school trip, alright? I need someone to help keep the others in line, someone they respect and who knows Chinatown already.”

  “I will definitely be there.” But right now, I got my feet moving and made for home.

  ime warped, speeding until Saturday evening.

  Maybe part of that was because I was the only person not getting much out of the tournament. It was cute, but I wasn't taking part, and why should I?

  The other kids were, to be bluntly honest, bad. I hadn't really recognized that me and my minions were particularly talented until I saw regular kids try to fight with super powers. Most of them just tried to slug it out. Marcia had actually been unusually smart and tactical before she replaced her sanity with super powers!

  Now, she was even more straightforward than anybody else. She rarely needed to be anything else. 'I give up, don't hit me!' was becoming a familiar cry.

  Not that everyone was incompetent. Laverne scored the first win against Marcia, by using her wooden launching device to hit Marcia with a smoke bomb. It was just flour, but Marcia passed out, boom, on the ground. The second person to beat Marcia was Olga Benitez, the black-haired girl with the energy web invention. It was the only one she had. Her power hadn't sparked again, so far. But she was finding out she could do surprising things with that loop of string. Throwing it around Marcia like a web had slowed her down like fighting through molasses, but without anything physical to attack. Again, Marcia dropped – not unconscious this time, but dazed, nauseous, and semi-coherent.

  Olga wasn't the only kid limited by her power having barely emerged. Most of the kids, especially the ones who looked like they might have strong powers, were having trouble. We figured the boy with the spikes would transform into something crazy strong when he grew up. His claws were dangerous, and when his powers were on, he grew black plates like shields on his arms, which were tough. The only thing he could reliably do, though, was dig. Boy, could he dig. I'd never seen man, animal, or machine that could send dirt and rock flying so fast.

  You know whose powers really shone in these sessions? Barbara and Jacky. Most kids didn't want to seriously get into a tournament after being knocked around the first time, but the ones who liked fighting got seriously beat up. Once Barbara got done with her pins, the ugliest bruises would heal completely in twenty-four hours, and Jacky's slime soothed burns and closed scrapes and cuts like a super bandaid.

  I watched all this stuff because it was expected of me, and it was vaguely amusing, but I'd rather have been in my own lab. Ray and Claire, superhero fan geeks extraordinaire, reveled in it. They took meticulous notes, argued about how to rank power levels, and Ray even put on his fake super gloves to provide a few pointers. He was smart enough, nobody questioned where he got his ideas.

  When she wasn't trying to pummel the entire world into oblivion, including herself, Marcia seemed to like playing mentor. She dragged Charlie Kamachi in Friday, and showed him how to throw straight punches that weren't so slow you could walk away from them, and she spent a lot of time teaching Teddy how to block and attack at the same time, and coming up with ideas for how he could use his powers. Teddy absolutely loved sparring, no matter how rough things got. I was greatly relieved when between them, Barbara and Jacky reattached the tooth Teddy lost on Friday.

  The sun was about at the horizon when I showed up at school Saturday afternoon. I arrived clutching my brand new smart phone. The expression on the sales tech's face when me and Dad made up a list of upgrades Dad would apply to it was priceless. But Dad could work on that tomorrow. I might need to call my folks tonight.

  My parents didn't protest the trip, but I had a strong suspicion we'd bought the phone the same day as a subtle bribe to not go the villain route. No doubt Mom had calculated an exact level of blank indifference to the idea of me visiting villain central to show that would make me take things seriously and not have too much fun.

  She didn't have to. I loved Chinatown. The throng of supervillains partying was fun, especially the respect they gave me. Bringing Marcia and Teddy there rang so many
alarm bells in my head, I was more anxious than looking forward to this.

  Actually, that might have been a good thing. It must have looked exactly like me reacting the way Mom wanted.

  The sight that greeted me was incredibly normal: A big yellow school bus with kids climbing into it.

  I had to actually climb in myself to see that the driver was a yellow plastic robot woman, not the giant bull man slouched way in the back seat. Claudia sat next to him. Her expression had changed since her father reentered her life. Instead of empty, now she always looked confused.

  Cassie whistled and waved at me. Claire stood and raised a hand. “No. Mine.” I went and sat in the seat with Ray and Claire.

  Marcia yelled, “Charlie!” and when he stared at her in surprise, insisted, “Yes, you. Come on!”

  One way or the other, everyone on the bus was out of their element, and that made for lots of chatter as Polly drove us the long ride down Sunset.

  Chinatown had the usual roadblocks, but half a dozen little old Chinese men took a pair out of the way so our bus could enter. Half a dozen identical little old Chinese men. HA! I knew he was a robot! Or clones. Or someone with a self-duplicating super power. Or a really good disguise.

  My hobby could get weird sometimes.

  Most of the kids swarmed to the windows. Ray, Claire, and I at least peeked out curiously. It was around sundown, and I wasn't sure what the crowd would be like. Not too bad, in the sense that Chinatown wasn't thronged with obvious supervillains. It looked like a normal shopping day, except with a few more street carts, and about half the shoppers wore costumes.

  Conditioned by a lifetime of field trips, we lined up in the aisle and trooped down the stairs into the parking lot in good order.

  The supervillains gawked more than my classmates. As Bull ambled ahead, leading us towards the big central mall, someone wearing silvery power armor in a vaguely feminine shape and a speaking in a vaguely feminine computerized voice stepped up. “Does Spider know about this, Bull?”