Definitely not this guy’s first rodeo.
He presented me with a duffel bag full of pigment pistols, and took his own advice, bolting out the door and heading straight across the street to put distance between him and us as fast as possible.
Hoisting the bag in one hand, and my mega-plow in the other, I headed out into the dusty, rubble-strewn battlefield behind the shack. A second later, Gerty plunged through the back wall, spraying planks, chunks, and splinters of wood. Swiveling her head left and right in confusion, she said, “Golly, I’m going to have to talk to the stage manager. He’s putting way too much starch in these curtains!”
Ampexia eyed the dirt and the broken chunks of old buildings scattered around the lot. “What’s the plan? There’s nothing to steal here. There’s nothing even left to break.”
Feet apart, black hair whipping in a late summer breeze, Lucyfar declared, “I want Bad Penny to use her Machine to build… this!”
She thrust one arm out towards me, holding a blue block about the size of a paperback book.
I took it, déjà vu creeping up my spine. The block was made out of metal, but not solid. More like a sponge, but with an intricate pattern of tiny crossbars instead of round hollows. It had words printed on a plate on one end, but I couldn’t even sound out the Cyrillic letters phonetically. The déjà vu crawled over me so strongly, I had trouble forming words. “Where… did you get… this? I didn’t make it, and my power never does the same trick twice.”
Lucyfar swept an arm around my shoulder, walking me out into the middle of the battlefield. “This mysterious relic was found in the collection of the ancient Egyptian mad scientist Pikeltukan, known not merely for creations far beyond the technology available three thousand years ago, but for his ability to see the future. After you built me that wonderful giant fighting robot, I realized I’d seen one of these before. The story of how I obtained this marvel from its modern, highly-protective owners is a thrilling saga of stealth, seduction, murder, and a fifty-gallon barrel of squid ink. Alas, we have no time for me to recount it here.”
I raised my eyebrows skeptically. “I’m impressed. Not many ancient Egyptians spoke Russian.”
“Right? Seeing the future must be amazing.” She was back to rubbing her hands together, looking around in mischievous, anticipatory glee.
Squinting at the engraving as if that would help, I said, “I don’t know what this will build. It could be a flower pot, or a doomsday bomb.”
Lucyfar hopped up to sit primly on a waist-high wall, legs folded and hands clasped primly, a display of ladylike dignity sure to last at least ten seconds. “The label says ‘Defenestrator’.”
Sure enough, she began to clear out her ear with a pinkie.
Ampexia tilted her head to one side, sneering. “It’s a blueprint for a machine that throws people out of windows?”
Whipping up her fist in zealous emotion, Lucyfar bounced up to stand on the wall where she’d just been sitting. “Yes! And I, Lucyfar, Star of Morning, will do whatever it takes to see that this noble scholar’s grand vision is finally fulfilled.”
Shru—criminy. Trying to look cool and unimpressed instead, I unwound my Machine, twisted him into activation, and stuck the blueprint into his back. Plates opened to fasten around the block, holding it in place. He needed no further instruction. When I dropped him on the ground, he began to dig, eat, and grow.
I nudged my boot against the ground next to him. “Whatever this thing will be, I question whether this is the right place to build it. The Machine works with dirt and rock, but that doesn’t mean its construction will.”
She giggled, shoulders wriggling with evil joy. Showoff. “Oh, but that’s the perfect part. You’ve been here before. Do you remember what it was before the owners gave up and accepted the site is cursed?”
“…a construction yard.” Which was why all the fragments of buildings that had never been completed.
She gave the ground a good, hard stomp with one sensible black sneaker. “Several construction yards. My vast angelic intellect thinks ahead. After decades of failed attempts to build here, we’re standing on a thin layer of dirt over a giant pile of discarded steel girders and building equipment.”
Crouching over my Machine, I soon saw she was right. The crunching sounds changed tone, and shiny metal joined the dull stone plates lining its growing, tube-shaped, insectile body.
Behind me, Gerty made her contribution to the topic. “I threw a no-good farm hand out of a window once, for trying to hurt a little boy. Does that make me a defenastridoodler?”
Lucyfar sounded reluctant. “Iiiiii dunno. I’m not sure it counts if you’ve only done it once.”
Animatronic servos whined. Something went ‘glomp.’ “I could throw you out of a window if it helps!”
“Do it, Gerty. Throw her through a window,” Ampexia urged. I was getting the impression she disapproved of Lucyfar.
“I am completely on board with this,” said Lucyfar.
More servo noises. “Gosh, there’s only one problem. All these windows are already busted!”
There was definitely good eating under this lot. The Machine swelled quickly, becoming thicker around than a sedan. It also grew taller, putting up the first floor of what looked like a complicated metal tower. Struts and hooks and support pylons centered around a cylinder covered in familiar but uneven bumps.
Ampexia abandoned the argument about whether Lucyfar should be thrown out of a window, and stood next to me instead, watching the mysterious contraption grow. Mysterious to me, at least. It wasn’t long before she said, “It’s a music box.”
With all of us distracted, I only found out we had company when a man’s voice shouted, “Stop, evildoers!”
Fun and games ended. Ampexia stepped back into the shadow of the Machine, adjusting buttons on her gloves. I pulled the power lever on my mega-hoe to maximum, secure in the knowledge I could blow this arena to smithereens and no one would care. Lucyfar showed up next to me so fast it felt like she teleported into place, while shiny black liquid crawled over her civilian clothes.
A hero leaped off of one of the tallest remaining building fragments, over two stories tall. Sunlight gleamed off of his armor as he somersaulted in mid-air, landing in a confident, arms akimbo stance.
His… armor.
His very, very skimpy armor, consisting of boots, bracers, shoulder pads, and a pair of metal briefs that, despite their thickness, covered less than your average men’s swimming briefs. His bronzed muscles glistened almost as brightly as the armor itself, perfectly chiseled far beyond the merely athletically good shape the active combat lifestyle forces on most heroes. The pouched belt around his thigh somehow conspired to make him look even more naked.
I had to say something. “GAAH.”
Ampexia, fists clenched now, came up to flank me on the other side from Lucyfar, only to give me a puzzled look. “What’s her problem?”
Lucyfar smirked. “I think she’s never seen a hero in a skimpy costume before.”
Ampexia’s brow furrowed even more. “How did she miss them? You all dress like clowns on a Caribbean beach.”
“GAAH,” I repeated.
Lucyfar’s hands waved, gesturing vaguely at Ampexia over the top of my head. “Her parents kept her sheltered from how strange and perverse the rest of us are, lest she be warped forever to follow our corrupt path. Something like that, anyway. Don’t expect me to understand it.”
Ampexia grunted. “Okay, yeah, I guess that makes sense.”
The hero raised one arm, flexing a rock-hard bicep. “Are you finished, ladies, or must Man of Courage carry the fight to you?”
Ignoring his words, demon princess’s eyes wandered over that bicep, and everything else. Her tongue snuck out across her lips. “Personally, Lucyfar likes.”
Leveling a finger at Man of Courage, I shouted, “GERTY! THAT MAN’S PARENTS NEGLECTED HIM AS A CHILD AND NOW HE OBSESSIVELY CRAVES UNHEALTHY EXTERNAL VALIDATION!”
&nb
sp; The ground trembled as a two-ton animatronic goat charged past me, arms wide. “I’ll give him a whole lifetime of love!”
Crossing his arms in front of him, the unfortunately dressed hero shouted, “Feel Mjölnir’s hammer, war robot!”
Something invisible hit Gerty, and hit her hard. It didn’t so much as scuff her apron, but she did rock backwards at the blow, her charge cut off. Not that this harmed her mood any more than her body. She merely declared, “I love this game! I cast Summon Hugs!” Extending her arms, she fired both metal hands on cables at Man of Courage.
He raised just one fist this time. “Stance of Atlas!”
It worked. Sort of. Gerty’s hands closed on his arms, but he stuck to the ground, immovable. Instead, she flew across the distance, yanked off her own feet to tackle-hug the poor fool.
While Friendship happened, I had a moment to try and push his costume out of his mind and focus on more cerebral topics. Gesturing between him and Lucyfar, I said, “Chimera’s powers are divided up by mythological monster theme, right? This guy reminds me of him. Do you think he’s a long-lost grandson?”
She smirked. “I doubt it. Chimera’s gay. It’s a useful trait in a fighting partner. I can be all over him, and he doesn’t get distracted.” She, on the other hand, was plenty distracted. Her eyes never left Man of Courage, or what was visible of him as Gerty extended extra arms for super hugging.
I had to hand it to the guy for raw power. When he yelled, “Strength of Hercules!” he actually was able to push Gerty’s arms off of him, and retreat far enough to throw out a new power. “Elusiveness of Rabbit!”
That sent him zig-zagging all over the place while Gerty lumbered after him, extendable arms grabbing. “Come back! You still need the honest affection of a nurturing parental figure! And pants!”
Were his feet even touching the ground? He didn’t look like he was actually running, just sliding. He moved so fast, and in such random directions, it was hard to tell. But maybe not totally random. The shining heroic blur came sliding around Gerty once, heading for us, only to be blocked by another wild robot grab.
This had been hilarious, but we couldn’t trust the fight wouldn’t come to us. Lucyfar’s knives materialized around us in a cloud. I hefted my hoe.
My goaty singing idol was smarter than she looked, and recognized the problem as well. A sped-up male voice echoed from inside her. “Releasing short range dumb-fire breakfast rockets.”
Panels opened up all over her again. This time, boxes emerged, heavy cubes the size of microwaves. Round holes lined each one in rows, and as soon as a box extended, it began to fire.
The missiles themselves looked like soft drink cans, from the vague glimpses I got as they accelerated. They fired unevenly, each one trailing a line of smoke that revealed how their paths weaved and flailed. Add Gerty jerking from side to side, and the rockets went everywhere, unpredictable, impossible to dodge. Every time they hit a surface they popped, releasing pancakes, fried eggs, bacon, breakfast cereal—that sort of thing. The mess added much needed color to the drab brown and gray of the arena.
Smeared with egg yolk, syrup, and brightly-colored marshmallows, Man of Courage decided he’d had enough. He leaped onto the still-growing tower, bracing a foot on one of the knobs from the central cylinder, and holding onto another. For the first time, I noticed something above his neck. I’d been trying to avoid the lantern jaw and perfectly white smile, but past that he wore a metal helmet that totally covered his face down to his nose. Finally, some part of his costume I could look at without embarrassment.
“Troll’s—”
He didn’t get to finish. One of the hooks from the loose ‘box’ around the music cylinder reached out, splaying into a clawed hand that grabbed him by the shoulder. With a quick jerk, the tower flung Man of Courage into the air, sending him sailing out of the park. Nearly a block away, I saw his body smash through one of the only intact windows in the battered neighborhood.
I spoke for all of us. “Criminy. It really is a Defenestrator.”
Gerty slumped. Great, even the animatronic got jointed shoulders. “Aw. I wanted a music box.”
“Okay, note to Penny: Don’t touch the tower,” said my voice, only not coming from me.
Meatbag Penny crouched on top of the fence, clinging to it with unsteady balance. In blissful contrast to Man of Courage—especially since this was my body—she was covered completely below the neck, in my old white laboratory jumpsuit. The random attack staff, with its three floating cogs, stuck out from where she had it strapped to her back. That and a bandolier of pouches were her only obvious weapons. Of course, that was a generous ‘only’, given how many bombs the bandolier might contain.
She fumbled, nearly dropping off the wall, and leaned forward a hair to… well, presumably squint at me. Beyond the jumpsuit, including boots and gloves, she also had on my mad scientist goggles. She certainly sounded shocked. “Is that you, Robot Me?”
I tried to sound equally surprised. “Yes! What are you doing here, Biological Me?”
“I thought I’d be fighting a ridiculous criminal building a giant evil music box. I miss being a hero. Are you following me?”
Yes. Yes, I was. But I sure wasn’t going to admit it. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” I made it as accusing as I could.
Of course, Mom would look at the odds and know in an instant this was a set-up, and that it meant I had a way of tracking the other me. But she wasn’t here, and my double had so helpfully asked her to not interfere.
My double hopped off the fence, landing with a heavy thud and a grunt. Unslinging the staff, she leaned on it as she watched me from the edge of the yard. “You can’t be ready to duel. Or have you found a stasis field already?”
I adjusted the position of my mad science plow, ready for action. “No, but I’m not going to back down.”
She grinned. “Like either of us would. I’m not here to duel, either, so I guess we fight this hero against villain.”
I nodded. “Works for me, and since we’re not playing by dueling rules… Gerty! HUG HER!”
Gerty came charging out from behind a broken building, arms extended. “Yay! I have love for the whole world!”
Meatbag Penny gaped, so surprised she dropped her staff. “Tesla’s Electric Life Form. Gerty? You have a Gerty Goat? And she’s alive?!”
The big gray goat in her blue dress and white apron skidded to a halt, arms still wide in invitation. “Who’s a Gerty Girl?”
Other Me let out a squeal of joy, running forward and leaping up onto Gerty to hug her. “I’m a Gerty Gerty Girl!”
With Meatbag Penny busy and her arms pinned, I pulled one of the paintball guns out of their bag, and fired off a number of shots at her. It made a pleasing fwoom fwoom fwoom whack whack whack noise. This body had way better aim than my original as well, because half a dozen would have actually hit my target—if Gerty didn’t extend her frying pan at high speed on one of her skinny extra equipment arms. She intercepted every one.
My double gave Gerty a kiss on the nose, and wriggled free to face me with her hands on her hips. “That was cheap. You know Gerty would never let a child get hurt—”
“I surely wouldn’t!” agreed the goat, lifting her chin and twisting from side to side proudly.
“And what are those? Mad science paintball blobs? Drugged, or something?”
I shook my head, giving her a whimsical smile. “Nope. The regular kind. But I bet they sting.” Then I opened fire again.
We’d passed some threshold where Gerty didn’t think Other Me needed protecting. Maybe because she was quite able to protect herself. Her hands swung up at the same time as mine, index and middle fingers pointed. The pellets bounced away, maybe a foot from her hands, each one with a different colored burst of sparks. They did convey an impact, because she slid gracefully backwards until I ran out of ammunition and tossed the gun aside.
My sly smile turned into a wide, approving grin. “So, that’s your new defen
sive equipment. Nice.” The gold bands on her gloves and boots hadn’t been obvious until I had a reason to look. Thin, slip-on attachments. Very convenient. And of course, the first thing I would have done after being challenged, had I still been able, would be to go make myself a new defense toy.
Gerty offered her own opinion. “I can skate, too!” With a series of buzzes and clicks, tank treads unfolded under her feet. Very fast tank treads, because she started rocketing across the lot with them like a badly-aimed cannon ball. This place would need to build new ruins soon.
My double watched her with a smile of pure, open joy. “She’s a perfect thing.” Then she sighed, and hung her head in resignation, digging a hand in a pocket of her bandolier. “But, needs must. Time to blow you to kingdom come.” With that, she flicked a marble-sized orb at me.
It didn’t get anywhere. Gerty came zooming around between us, catching the bomb in her mouth. I heard a muffled ‘thud’ from somewhere inside, but the goat was already careening away.
Other Me watched her for a moment, and when Gerty was sufficiently far away, flung half a dozen more. The robot goat reversed course like a shot, her head shooting out on a telescoping pole to grab every bomb out of the air, one after the other. After the explosions went off inside her, and as she rolled past between us, she stuck out a thin tongue and slid it across her lips. “Mmm, I love candy! You should always give goats candy.” A different, tired and exasperated man’s voice cut in immediately after. “Do not give goats candy, children. You’ll make them sick.”
My double and I both grinned a lot.
I had not just assumed Gerty would catch them, and had done my best to scramble out of the way. That brought me to where I could see Ampexia and Lucyfar arguing.
“I don’t think they want us to get involved,” said Lucyfar, wagging a finger sharply.
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