by P. S. Power
The brown-haired man looked at the other man like he'd lost his mind.
“Dan, seriously? Do you think they hired the Jackal or that Mr. Yi is secretly the new Prime? He looked pretty wrung out if you asked me, which I'd expect if he's what they say he is. Just someone doing the best he can in a pretty messed up situation.”
Brian suggested they find a movie. Bridget got on the bed and curled up next to him warmly, but kept her hands to herself, which had to be a sign that she could control what she did if she wanted. That or he looked so bad that even her rather loose standards didn't think it worth the bother. At about eight-thirty, Doctor Burrows came in with a large shot of something.
The woman held the needle up, “Mwa-ha-ha! Erm, I meant, time for medicine deary...” She did the last in an old lady voice.
Her expression was a little wry but she kept the syringe up in the air ready to stab something. It looked a little maniacal to tell the truth. She just needed a flashlight under her jaw and the lights on low for the full effect.
“Your friend Christian came in earlier and told us all that we'd better do more for your pain, or she'd tell everyone our darkest secrets. Somehow I don't think she was kidding. So here you go. More where this came from if you need it. Now my personal secrets aren't that dark, if people want to know that I dated a girl for six months in college no big, but a few of the guys looked more than a little freaked...” She gave him the shot in his left arm, a new I.V. not having been started when he got back.
Brian fell asleep before the end of the movie, nodding in place, but no one said anything about it. The world swam and he realized after a while that Penny sat next to him, the room lights low and everyone else gone. She leaned over and kissed his cheek.
“Get better soon. We need you. More than you think.” She walked out, probably not knowing he'd even woken up.
Kissed by two women in one day, a record for him. Before that the last kiss he'd gotten had been.... He couldn't remember. Bridget, he thought. She counted right? Still too young, but hey, he couldn't afford to be picky.
It didn't take long for Brian to drift back off again until morning, about seven. He woke up feeling drugged, but not too bad all things considered. The doctor that came in had been the guy that helped him with his feet, Kern.
Brian asked if he could go workout and the man laughed at him. It wasn't a pleasant chuckle either, but that kind of laugh smart people give you when you just said something they secretly think is retarded, but don't want to tell you that straight out to save your feelings.
“Tell you what, let me check that wound, recheck your feet, give you more anti-inflammatory, and then we'll see if I'll let you go and walk around the track for a while. If you try to run I'll personally come down there and drag you back, got it?” The doctor folded his arms and gave him a stern look, but ruined it by grinning after a few seconds.
It didn't take long, his feet had toughened a lot and all the blisters were gone, Kern worked one patch down a bit with an emery board, so that it wouldn't throw his gait off over time. Twenty shots later, only one for pain in the shoulder, and he let Brian get dressed and walk himself to the track. Kern insisted that Brian wear a shoulder sling, one that coordinated with his sweats – which made him smile – until the Doc pointed out that injuries were so common here that all the bandages color coordinated on purpose.
“It helps hide how often people here are hurt.” This time no smile came with the words at all. The tone wasn't happy either.
He made his way to the elevator, finding it empty, and rode to fourteen, the room still almost deserted – it being too early for anyone else – except one of the Team Two people, a strange looking fellow that went by the code name Goblin, and kind of looked like one, stick-thin body, large head, green and black skin. He often came early in the morning for a couple of hours, clearing out when it got busier. Brian waved to him and felt surprised when the other man waved back, smiling.
He walked around the track, struggling not to seem to enfeebled. It was an odd distance, just shy of a half mile per lap it turned out, meaning this complex was huge inside, Brian thought as he walked, not even bothering to try and count the laps, just walking at a smooth pace. At around nine-thirty Karen came running over to him, rust-colored ponytail bobbing as she did. She moved in beside him, moving quickly to match him.
“I didn't think you'd be back yet! Kern called and told me if I didn't check on you he'd smear my name in the press. Tell them I was sleeping with Prime or something.” She mock shuddered, which made Brian laugh. Prime might not have the best personality, but most women didn't really care about that in his experience, at least not once you got past the obviously off-putting stuff. Being a narcissist ticked women off, unless you had a pretty enough face and body, then they were all into it, even if they claimed they weren't.
Not that guys were any better that way, but they didn't claim that looks didn't impact them like that. Almost all women did. Worse, most of them couldn't even seem to see it in themselves, only other people. Brian chuckled as he walked. Of course, he could be jaded, having never been the good-looking guy that women wanted.
They walked for a long time, and Karen told him about the Olympics, how disappointed she'd been when she missed the gold by one point from one judge, a Russian, who notoriously downgraded everyone not from their own country. Still, it had been worth it, she told him, because she got to do things so many people never even tried. She still practiced daily, almost, when she didn't have other work. She'd actually wanted to teach back in the day, maybe even coach gymnastics, but as things do in life, she'd gotten sidetracked and ended up there.
“How about you? I mean, I get how you ended up here, but what were you before?”
Brian smiled. “Not a fair question! You're all like, ho-hum, won a medal in the Olympics, how about you, ho-hum. Me? I sat on a couch with my roommate for years playing video games and eating too much. During the day I went to work and put rolls of toilet paper into boxes for shipping. I could regale you with tales of that, but let's not, it sounds cooler than it actually is. Before that... well, I dropped out of college and wasted my life. I did well enough there, but I couldn't get into it. Lame I know. Get halfway to a doctorate in math then bail. Turned out all right though, because now I'm here anyway and so far I haven't used more math than counting by twos.”
He told her about how his parents had basically disowned him back then, when he stopped college at eighteen, about as soon as he legally could.
“I started at fifteen, and didn't get a break... for years. I'd come back on vacation and my parents would make me run math drills and work problems for them out of the textbooks. I don't mean that we'd sit around doing that for an hour in the evening either, like some kind of family bonding thing, it was hard core, all day, every day. They didn't think I needed a life outside of math and Oboe. Oh yeah, I totally rock on the Oboe, the world's most useless instrument. Well, second most useless. Tuba is the most useless – and if you say triangle I won't be your friend anymore, because that isn't an instrument at all. Ding.” He grinned at her making a little hammering motion in the air as if playing the triangle.
She looked at him funny and he laughed again, making a shocked face at her.
“What? You can be in the Olympics and I can't have quit college? Or is it the part about me actually not being a moron all my life that surprised you? I know, hard to believe... but still true. Well, technically I do have a degree, but a bachelors didn't mean enough to my parents, so I gave it up all together for the wonderful world of video games. Now I kind of wish I'd studied something useful, like running or judo.” She stuck her tongue out at him and walked backwards so she could look at him.
“I think you're smart. I just never thought about you having been in college. That's a danger of this place. You see someone doing incredible things over and over again and you start thinking of them as a soldier or a fighter, even a super-hero, but you forget that most people had a real life befor
e they got here and that the stories can sometimes surprise you. You know Charles, the Team Two leader? Sparks? He used to be a SWAT team leader, which is why he's running Team Two instead of on Team One, even if he's fairly good looking, he's too useful to waste on propaganda.
“Your team leader Christian? Christian Poures, as in the Christian Poures, heir to a multi-billion dollar fortune. Her family hasn't cut her off or anything either, so don't think that, she's here because she wants to be. Your Mark literally had his own show on the food network, two days from doing the first episode when his ability manifested. Have you ever tasted his baking? Magic.” She suddenly did a round off backhand spring and followed it with a back flip, then smoothly turned and started walking with him again.
“Lauren from Team Two was a kindergarten teacher. How's that for typecasting huh? You'd figure third grade right?” Karen grinned, a big thing that said she was kidding, probably based on how the other woman looked now. It wasn't mean though.
Thinking about it for a second Brian shook his head. “No. I'd go even older, middle school maybe? She does wonders with Bridget and I don't think our tiny friend even gets that it's being done.”
Karen looked at him, considering something and then spoke, quietly. Leaning closer to him than would be normal for walking.
“Her parents... She's a handful by nature, but Scott and Charlot should have never had a child to begin with. He's, well you know, you've met him. And Charlot, she's a piece of work. Apparently she's not just like that on the set or before a news conference, that's really just her, all the time, could you imagine that?”
It took Brian a minute to figure out.
“Her mom's the angry woman I met before the thing with the reporters and her dad's...” He trailed off, trying to think who else he knew? Jason? His last name was Montrose. That didn't mean he wasn't the guy though. And his first name wasn't Scott. Did he know anyone named Scott at all?
Oh. He did.
“Prime?” He asked.
She nodded, biting her lip. “It's not funny though. Bridget is a great kid in her own way, but she's been raised here and has... issues. She's closer to almost everyone here than her own parents, and has been for years. She's slept with half the guys on Team Two, some without their consent exactly, and has been doing that for years too, and at least one of the Team One guys. That's why Marcia got thrown off the team you know, she tried to talk Prime into standing up for his daughter, but he couldn't be bothered, he doesn't think she's a good enough trophy. So Marsh beat him bloody and nearly killed him, trying to get him to do something. He just complained about her instead and well, he's popular... so bye-bye Marcia.”
Brian told her about how Charlot and Bridget had both kissed him. Now if he could get some off of Prime... he'd have collected the whole set. Groaning, she punched him in the shoulder, then nearly panicked until he reminded her that one wasn't overly injured right now. Brian wrinkled his nose at her and walked faster. He didn't know for sure, not keeping track in any way, but he kind of thought he moved faster now than when he started. Then again he wasn't hurt as badly now, not his legs and feet at least, so that had to help.
She kept up with him for another hour, then told him she had to go and get dressed for a meeting in the afternoon. She patted him on the shoulder. The injured one this time, so he had to fight a wince as she bounced away.
Really with her energy and hair color he would have guessed her for Bridget's mom, not Charlot Chambers. That probably would have worked out better all around, except the part where Karen would have been pregnant at twelve.
He walked for another hour, until nearly lunch time and then headed back to the hospital room to check in. Doctor Kern checked the wound again, made sure Karen had shown up, and told him to go do something fun. He decided on lunch, since he kept missing breakfast. Stopping to think about it, he didn't even know if they ate that at the base. When he got to the dining room he asked Mark, who handed him two tuna sandwiches on wheat, with two salads and sides of ranch dressing. Smiling the man told him that breakfast was served at seven when he asked, just out of curiosity. That would, of course, explain why he'd never gotten it here at all. Always busy running then.
Looking around he noticed that Penny wasn't there yet.
He'd finished his salad and sandwich pretty quickly, feeling extra hungry for some reason. Possibly the exercise and healing. Still no Penny. It was a little baffling.
“Hey, has anyone seen Penny?” He waved his right hand before they could make fun of him. “I mean, is she out on assignment or something?”
Mark told him he didn't think so, and Marcia just shrugged. For some reason she always acted a bit like Penny wasn't real, out of sight out of mind probably. Some people seemed to have a harder time holding her existence in mind than others did. Mark always made food for her, but he saw her physically, the same as he saw everyone else, when he was in stasis time or whatever he called it. Brian let them know he was going to go look for her. He decided to check her room first, but he didn't know which one that would be.
“She's in ten, around the corner.” Mark let him know. He started to ask them to let her know about his search... then didn't bother, they couldn't tell her anyway, unless they knew she was around. Instead he decided to leave a note on the table in the center of the cream colored cloth, and asked everyone not to throw it away.
Room ten, around the corner and down a hall he'd never gone down before, wasn't locked. He knocked, but no one answered so he went in – calling out the whole time – just in case she hadn't heard him and on the off chance she was doing something she didn't want him to know about. Playing with electronic toys or something. Or more reasonably, changing clothes.
He didn't see her there. A little worried for some reason, probably just because he was a little banged up and felt vulnerable, Brian started going around and looking for her. If nothing else it would give him more exercise.
About three hours later he heard a low moan coming from the stairwell when he poked his head into it. He'd checked the other floors, but had used the elevator the whole time.
“Penny?” He called out, then went silent, listening.
“Help!” Her voice sounded tiny and far away, following the sound, and calling to her, he finally found her lying at the bottom of the stairwell three floors down. Her left leg was bent at an unnatural angle above the knee.
“Penny! Gah, OK, that's not good... We need to get you to the hospital. What happened?”
“I came back from the gym and decided to use the stairs, I got bumped by... someone... and fell. They didn't hear me or see me of course... I came down a ways. I think I broke my leg.” She didn't cry but her voice sounded full of pain.
Leaning in he looked at her leg and winced. Yep. It really did bend at an angle just above her knee. He touched it gingerly, but didn't feel any blood. She hissed, but didn't try to stop him.
“Right, we need help here, because I can't carry you alone right now, well, I could, but it wouldn't be fun for either of us. So... Help!” He called for nearly three minutes before someone came, Goblin, as it turned out.
“Need somtin?” He rasped, sounding both soft and nervous, his voice a deep purple color to Brian, he didn't see it, but it sounded purple to him, which must be part of the man's abilities he realized. Brian didn't hear colors as a rule.
“Yeah, thanks for coming, Penny, the invisible one from Team Three? She fell down the stairs and has a pretty badly broken leg. We need a stretcher and people to carry it, but I don't want to leave her alone, because I don't think anyone else here can see or talk to her. Could you go and get some doctors for us, and maybe something to carry her on and people to do the carrying?” The man looked uneasy, but finally nodded.
“Thanks! I owe you. Hey, what's your name?” He asked as the man scampered away, going up the flight of stairs, the fastest way to the hospital wing.
He called back gently, “Tobin.”
Tobin didn't take long, coming back with
both Kern and Burrows, carrying the stretcher himself, the real kind with handles and straps. He waved them to a stop and used his hands to give a basic outline of Penny, not touching her, including the bend to her leg.
“She has on sweats and shoes a lot like these.” He pointed at his own. “And a t-shirt.”
Both doctors looked at each other and Burrows finally asked him to guide her hands, not being able to see the girl. He took her left hand in his right and showed her to Penny's leg, then described the break. Going outward, about six inches above the knee, a thirty degree angle or so, he guessed. It took some time, because the doctors wanted to isolate and stabilize the limb before moving it. That meant Brian had to help them get a splint on it. He winced every time Penny cried out in pain.
“Sorry! I know it hurts... just hang on, OK? We'll get you up the stairs and into a bed...” Past that he didn't know what else they would really be doing. For all the beatings he'd taken, even nearly having his shoulder crushed by Jackal, he hadn't had any major bones broken. Yet. Ribs, fingers, and toes probably, but nothing he'd needed a cast for.
He kept talking to her while he worked, following directions, mainly just repeating what had just been said. It sounded stupid, he knew, Penny could hear what they told him to do, but it made him feel a little less like he was screwing up when she reacted in pain.
Her face scrunched up when they rolled her to the side, in order to get the board under her. For all that Brian had to place their hands for them, everyone did a really good job it seemed to him. Tobin took the heavy end of the board and Kern the feet, going up the stairs first, Goblin being way stronger than any of them, as slight as he looked, could keep the litter pretty much even. The smaller man had to carry it by the handles, holding them at the level of his face, an awkward placement at best, but there was no wavering at all.