“Everybody needs money,” argued the woman with the display of helmets.
The Expert flapped a hand. “Lab Rat makes quite a lot, and spends very little, but it’s really up to him.”
Lab Rat rubbed his leather-gloved hands together. His whole skinny body was sheathed in tight brown leather, with randomly spaced pockets and buckles. “Always thought Bad Penny’s technology tasty.”
Red Eye nodded emphatically. “Oh, yeah.”
The helmet woman behind her gave Red Eye’s head a poke. “You’re no slouch.”
“Not in her class. Have you seen these photos?” Pulling out her phone, she tapped a few buttons. I had a glimpse of her background screen, a human-shaped prism shining rainbows everywhere. Then it was replaced by a photograph of… me. Me, sitting on a train, with my broken arm and my gaping open shoulder. The ripped fabric lining the inside of my shell, and its golden circuitry, showed clearly.
The Expert nodded in his detached, professorial way. “Impressive, certainly.”
The Dark Hatteress craned forward over her table to look. “Wow. Where are the mechanisms? There’s no skeleton, no motors, no nothing.”
Mechanical Aesthetic pulled out his own phone, staring at it with a hungry smile. Others started getting out their phones as well.
My mouth was hanging open, so I might as well say something. “You all have the pictures those kids took?!”
Red Eye patted the surface of her table close to me. “Relax, Bad Penny. That kid tried to post them online. Spider pays someone to keep watch for that. You can bet they scrubbed the pictures not just from the Internet, but from the guy’s hard drive. Nobody outside the community gets to keep sensitive material like this.”
I tilted my face down, and gave her an unimpressed stare over my—woah. I was so used to wearing glasses, I didn’t realize they were gone until now. But anyway, back to sarcasm! “Just all of you.”
“Hey, our interest is professional!”
I sighed heavily, and rubbed my face. Supervillains! “Well, I’m not selling a finger, and I’m short on other tech right now.”
Lab Rat shook his head, violently, almost like an animal. “They are so silly. Ignore them. Yes, want Bad Penny’s technology, but always willing to give tasty deal to friend. Recently abandoned lair exists, would like something from inside it, but cannot go. Only Bad Penny can. Will provide location, Bad Penny bring back prize, can have base.”
Hefting an eyebrow, I gave him the Fish Eye. “And only I can do this why…?”
Lab Rat grinned hugely. He did have buck teeth, but not actually rat-sized. He also went back to twisting his gloved hands together. “Belonged to defunct heroine Miss A. Does not want it anymore, but big trouble if anyone try to take, yes? Ah, but Bad Penny is different.”
“Deal. I’ll go tonight,” I said, before he could change his mind.
Miss A’s real name was Marcia Bradley, and I very much wanted to meet Marcia. Nobody else had that perfect blend of craziness and friendship that made her likely to help me against the parasite. The base would be pure bonus.
he beach. The Pacific Ocean north of Santa Monica. The long, long, how-long-can-a-road-get Pacific Highway stretching north along it, with a few little side roads running down the slope to the sand and water. Marcia’s father had picked a lair for her with an incredible view.
Or at least, he would have if Lab Rat hadn’t said the lair was underground.
Also, I wasn’t supposed to know that Marcia’s dad was the Original, supposedly a quite skilled hero until she sucker-punched him so hard that six months recuperation and the advanced healing available to heroes still might not have him back on his feet.
But I did know that, even if I had to pretend I didn’t. Which meant Marcia’s dad owned the beachfront mansion atop Miss A’s lair.
Say that with me, now. ‘Beachfront mansion.’ Even Pong’s home on the hills would be orders of magnitude less expensive than beachfront property near Los Angeles. Just how rich was her family anyway?!
From my perch on a street lamp a block up, the yard looked messy, and mostly dead. A table and chairs lay upended on the lawn. One window had a hole patched up with cardboard. These are not things I normally associated with houses that cost more than a hundred million dollars.
But hey, if the place was abandoned, better for me! Jumping down from the top of the lamp, I landed in a crouch, just to enjoy how strong and light my new body was. Might as well take the good with the bad! Then I teleported to the lair entrance Lab Rat described.
In a chained-off parking lot, behind a closed management shack, stood a small garage.
“This is the part where Ray would say something serious about the practicality of a lair entrance two blocks away, and Claire would wonder if we can steal something with the Original’s autograph on it.” Closing my eyes and rolling my head back, I groaned at the dark late-night sky. “I have so got to get new sidekicks. At least until I can get my old sidekicks back. I hope that house isn’t as abandoned as it looks.”
Turning back, I stared out at the black ocean water, listened to the faint roar of the surf, and felt the sea breeze. “No, Ray would hold my hand and lean against me and say nothing. Penny, triple underline that need for sidekicks. And get your life back before a freaky parasite steals your boyfriend.”
The garage door lifted easily. It wasn’t locked, and the inside could be described as ‘shabby, gray, and empty.’ One thing stood out. Regular garages generally didn’t have a ramp down underground blocked by a steel gate.
I owned the ultimate lock pick in the form of the Machine, but this time my baby would not be necessary. That weird little Lab Rat knew how to prepare, and I pointed the electronic car key he’d given me and pushed the ‘garage door’ button.
Sure enough, the gate lifted, and with a nice, smooth ‘shoop’. Very classy and superhero professional.
I snuck down the spiral ramp, crouched low and hands out, in case anyone saw me and needed to know how stealthy I am. I couldn’t see any cameras, or detect them with super special robot senses. Wouldn’t super special robot senses be great? Would Good Penny have told me about them?
Super special robot senses, activate!
Yeah, nothing.
Maybe if I said it out loud? “Super special robot senses, activate! …I so need new sidekicks.”
The bottom of the ramp opened into another little garage, with sleek walls and floor, and much less dust. Fortunately, it had plenty of debris to replace the dust. Picking up a pink piece of curved plastic, I made a professional scientific judgment. “Marcia really hated that motorbike.”
I’d never seen her driving one, but the shiny chrome bits lying around would be a small motor, and a bicycle’s worth of struts, with lots of pink plastic coverings, all of it beaten and smashed into fragments. Ooh, and rainbow-colored tassles for the handlebars! Yes, post-psychotic-break-Marcia would destroy those just on principle.
Okay, well, all that was fun. Time for business. A very long passage stretched away toward what my keen sense of direction told me had to be the beach house. Light shone through a gate at the other end.
What would be the purpose of that featureless tunnel? “Let’s see. Traps, detectors, alarms, more traps… skip it.” I focused on the other side of the gate, and took a step.
Blink! From harshly-lit garage, to hideous pink antechamber! My body gave a little jolt from the effort, but it hadn’t been too far. The gate now behind me meant nothing, because it had all those nice spaces between the bars. I had yet to figure out exactly what kind of gaps I could and couldn’t teleport through, but a portcullis more air than steel? No problem.
Something had to be said. “My god. It’s full of pink.”
Marcia had not decorated this lair. Even pre-psycho-Marcia had not decorated this base. A father who thought he was doting but actually wanted a doll instead of a daughter decorated this base.
Oh, it had the proper base stuff. Trophy shelves, weapon racks, maps, book
shelves, a table with built-in microscope and other no doubt nifty detective gizmos. An entire wall of monitors and computers, which certainly made me grin to look at. Those would definitely be handy! Two closets by the door, a bathroom considerably bigger and more luxurious than the one in my home—jacuzzi, no less!—and a bedroom. No question, this place was practical.
It was also pink. Different shades of pink, from pale rose paint on the walls to bright bubblegum computers. Seriously, the covers on the computers were so pink they seared the eyes. Carpets, bed, everything actually part of the room, was pink. The bedroom back at West Lee’s place had been themed. This was just child abuse.
Speaking of abuse, someone had sure abused this place. The bookshelves and closets sat empty, although a few torn pages littered the floor, and a pink ballerina-style Miss A sidekick costume hung next to the shelves, perforated by darts, a knife, and an axe, all of them sunk at least an inch into the wall. Trophies gaily bedecked every surface, bent or crumpled or ripped in half or shockingly intact, just out of place. Marcia seriously had a lot of trophies. Spelling bee trophies, dance trophies, swimming trophies, gymnastics trophies, archery trophies, even a few oddities that must come from supervillain loot, like cracked goggles and a shattered crystal ball. A sword hung in its own case on one wall, although the glass fronting was smashed. Well, sort of a sword. It looked to be made of the same white stuff as my shell, honed to an edge on the sides of the blade, and separated into two pieces—left and right halves of the blade itself, and a pommel, all with a round gap in the middle where some missing item would lock them together.
I would have to ask Marcia about it sometime, hopefully while we planned my taking back my body together.
Meanwhile, I had other weapons to find. This place ought to be teeming with grapples, smoke bombs, steel batons, and other Miss A equipment. I didn’t see any. Not that I wanted them, but Lab Rat had asked me to find something… ah ha!
A cardboard box lurked in the shadows beneath Marcia’s bed. (The sheets had a big capital A on them, in darker pink. Classy.) Pulling out that box, I opened it to find…
…my target. One box of junk mad science. Rocket shoe inserts, collapsible tool kits, guns powered by air canisters, and odder things like a blender and a miniature fishing rod. It all had a clunky, low-tech look, but no doubt worked wonders far beyond its meager appearance.
Behind me, something went shoop.
Turning around, I saw a section of wall had slid out of the way to reveal a staircase up into the mansion above it, and down those stairs trotted the girl I’d hoped to see. Marcia!
Our eyes met, and Marcia’s face lit up with unholy glee, the only kind she felt these days. “Yes! I knew it would be you!” With that squeal of glee, she ran down the remaining steps and threw herself onto me for a hug.
“Glak,” I replied solemnly.
She couldn’t squeeze my breath out, but she did pick me up by her arms around my chest, and spun me around in a circle. “Oh, wow, you weigh practically nothing! I never dreamed you would break into my base, but when the alarm went off, who else could it be? I’m so happy you picked me. What does it feel like to have your body stolen by an evil robot?”
My heart leaped, and I swear I could feel it rattling against the wire cage that held it in place. “You believe me?” Could it really be this easy?
She returned me to my feet, standing back and flashing a huge, white-toothed grin. “Of course I believe you. Everyone tells me I’m crazy, but assuming everyone is wrong about everything has worked for me so far.”
I drank in the glow of her friendship. Mmm, to be loved. Marcia looked so honestly, unreservedly happy to see me. Despite the mess outside, she must live in the beach house above. She’d clearly just gotten out of bed, with her short black hair an uneven mess, and dressed in a knee-length nightgown that might have been a big man’s shirt a very long time ago. Now repeated dye jobs and the peeling of whatever logo had graced the front left the whole thing a patchwork of pink, gray, and worn white spots.
Confidentially, I felt considerable relief seeing that gown. Having seen some of the stuff her father dressed her in, I’d put even odds she slept in lacy lingerie and very little of it. Apparently the inappropriate dress-up-doll stuff was strictly for public, downgrading my impression of Marcia’s childhood from ‘skin-crawling nightmare’ to ‘miserably oppressive.’
Running my fingers back through my bangs and down one braid, I said, “I’m not going to argue with success. I need everyone I can get on my side.”
“Ee-yee-yee-yee-yee!” she squealed, dancing around me in a circle, arms waving and thrusting and hopping around. She lolled her head grotesquely back and to one side to smile at me, which didn’t disturb her dance at all. “This could not be more perfect. I’m a new me, and you’re a new you. Finally, we can start over.”
Her glee abruptly vanishing, she whirled on the spot. Standing at rigid attention, she clasped her hands together against her chest, eyes closed, frowning.
The frown deepened. Her mouth pulled tight. I took a couple of steps back, then a couple more as the first black sparks jumped off of Marcia’s body.
Marcia’s eyes opened, and her face contorted, teeth clenched in psychotic rage. She lunged at me, fist-first straight for my face.
She struck fast. She struck really fast. But I knew that already, which was why I’d put some space between us. One backwards step of my own, and I blinked across the room, leaving her to slam her fist into the wall.
Screeching in frustration, Marcia yanked her hand free, leaving knuckle prints through the pink plaster and into the rock beyond. Spinning, she threw herself at me again. Now I was across the central chamber, and it was most of the size of the house above. I had nearly two seconds to teleport past her to the other side of the room.
She crashed into the garishly colored computers, ripping them open and shattering one of the monitors. Criminy! I wanted those!
My relief turning to weary exasperation, I said, “Starting over, huh? With our first battle?”
“Yes! It’s going to be awesome!” she shouted, charging me again.
I blinked to the far side of the room again, watching her. She smashed into the bookshelves, fell over, picked herself back up, and threw herself at me again.
And again.
And again.
Each time I teleported away, trying to do so early so that she wouldn’t break too much when she hit whatever I’d been standing in front of. I also tried to keep to the clearer stretches of wall, in case Marcia had some kind of plan going.
Not that she would. I’d seen a whole semester of Marcia sparring. I knew her strengths and weaknesses. Primary strengths: literal, I-did-not-want-to-get-within-arm’s-reach strength, and an ability to heal anything that didn’t instantly vaporize her. Primary weaknesses… well, number one, she fought in a screaming rage, which made for very little strategy.
Literally screaming. “Stop! Dodging! Fight me, you stuck-up! Irritating! Nerd!”
That last punch hit her computers again, although I didn’t think that one could get any more broken. She did take out three more monitors.
I leaned against the wall by the trophy shelves, one foot raised and ready to teleport even as I let out a frustrated sigh. “I wanted those, but if we’re enemies, I guess it’s moot.”
Staggering out of the smoking, spark-spitting mess, her nightshirt now covered in dust and soot, Marcia laughed, “Oh, please. Enemies? Who said we’re enemies? I like you more than anyone else in the world, except maybe Sue. That’s why I want to pound your face in!”
I let out another sigh, deeper this time. The problem with the crazy person believing me was that, of course, she’s crazy.
Marcia wobbled half a dozen steps, eyes unfocused and dazed. If she got farther than the middle of the room, I would teleport over by the stairs.
Instead, she drew herself up straight, and repeated the hands together thing. Both the anger and glee faded away, leaving her face
calm, serious, and intent.
This little trick would lead to a black lightning field throwing zaps at me. Rather than let her complete it, I picked up the nearest trophy and threw it at her head.
Direct hit! There was no sense in pulling punches with Marcia, so I’d thrown with all the strength my robot body had. She went down, with what looked like a dent in her skull.
Of course, being Marcia, she growled in fury, crawled back up to her hands and knees, and her head popped back into shape. Then she turned to me.
And I teleported away, before she could even charge. She looked around in a hurry, spotted me, and I blink out of her sight again. Three more teleports had her spinning in place, until she shouted, “Would you stop that!?”
I did, leaning against a wall again, foot raised, ready to disappear if she attacked.
She saw that, and paused, frowning not in fury, but in thought. Which meant Marcia’s second major weakness kicked in, and she collapsed.
I didn’t dare catch her, so thank goodness she managed to shield her head with her arms when she hit the floor. Poor Marcia. Oh, yes, I very much knew her weakness. She ran on anger and concentration. Make her stop and think, and her healing power deserted her, presenting a very painful bill instead. So, I’d run her around in circles until she had no choice but to try and figure out a new plan.
Violently shaking, Marcia pushed herself up onto her elbows again. I winced. She let out a low growl, shoulders tensing, trying to summon her rage back. Instead, she made a blurp noise, and clasped her mouth shut with one hand. Bug-eyed, she crawled clumsily towards the bathroom.
Criminy. Okay, time to abandon safety and be a friend, Penny. Hooking my arms under her shoulders, I dragged her to the toilet, and stepped outside while the horrible noises happened.
Eventually, the sounds coming from inside switched to running water and the buzz of an electric toothbrush. Shortly after that stopped, Marcia emerged, shaking, rubbing her face on a towel. A towel with a number of new stains, most of them red.
“Why do you do this to yourself?” I asked, grimacing. She still walked like someone whose legs might give out at any moment. It was hard to look at.
You Believe Her Page 7