Subject 12

by S. W. Douglas

  Kurt had been famed for his ability to break through any defensive line when the chips were down, and the way he could run the ball up the middle without anyone being able to bring him down.

  After a few years of this, and an amazing lack of injuries, he got cocky. He was mugging for the crowd on his way to a record-setting touchdown when someone blindsided him. It was a low-tackle, from the side, and a few people in the stands swore they could hear his knee snap from the impact.

  He spent two days in the hospital before signing himself out. He caught the next flight to Houston, running the other player down in a bar before midnight that night. The death was ruled homicide-in-self-defense because Kurt had killed him with his bare hands and the other player had pulled a gun which he legally shouldn't have had. Rumors flew about a bribe. Nobody who mattered cared after a few months.

  Kurt had quickly realized he preferred beating people to death with his bare hands than beating other people to the end zone. His career was basically over, anyway. Nobody wanted to play with him after it became obvious he wasn't a norm --- and the officials and team owners frowned on supers. After all, how can anyone tell if the basket was scored because of athletic ability or some talent for telekinesis? So he announced his intention to join the Heroes' Guild, he submitted for testing and, within a month of killing another player simply for interfering with his ability to score a record-setting touchdown, he was hunting down and killing petty criminals full time. Over the last couple of years there had been many allegations of abuse, and the Guild was reportedly looking into them to see if his membership should be revoked, but in the meantime he was having a grand time bullying, killing, and torturing anyone who looked at him cross-eyed.

  The problem was one of public relations. Grid Iron was a popular, take-no-shit, take-no-prisoners, hard-charging hero with a strong following left over from his days as an athlete. If the Guild were to cut him loose they'd lose a lot of public support.

  He was also a bit of a coward, it seemed. Whenever a big villain blasted into town, he was conveniently somewhere else. A couple of popular heroes had tried to use him as backup and been burned badly for their trust.

  I had the feeling his days were numbered.

  "Hey, you alright?" The young woman looked concerned.

  "What?" I must have drifted off. "I'm sorry, I must have drifted off. Probably my brain resetting from that light show of yours. I think that's the last of it, though." I produced a kindly smile and she looked relieved.

  "Good. I'm not sure how far we are from the infirmary, but I was about thirty seconds from shouting for help."

  Good thing she hadn't. "I'm alright. Thank you."

  "I'm glad." She looked down and seemed to want to say something. "Um," she began. "Um."

  "Something on your mind?" I really wanted to get my hands on that map she was holding.

  "Yeah. Look, I was on my way to get something to eat. Would you..." She trailed off.

  "Would I like to join you?"

  "Yes. Please, it's the least I could do after the, uh, yeah..." She blushed again.

  "It would be my pleasure." Realizing how empty my stomach was had made me hungry. It also gave me a chance to look at the map. "Lead on, MacDuff!"

  I had been going the wrong way, as it turned out, so I reversed course. We ended up walking right past the main entrance because the map was so crude I didn't want to risk getting lost heading any other way. The work crew was just finishing up the repairs; the keypad hanging loose as numbers were being punched in to test the door. I nodded at the worker who'd been so talkative and he nodded back. He looked at my companion and smiled, then winked at me.

  "Who designed your outfit?" I asked on a whim as we walked, the impulse surprising me.

  "My mother, if you can believe that."

  "Your mother gave you that much cleavage?"

  She snorted. "And designed my costume to take advantage of it, yes."

  "You have an interesting mother."

  "You have no idea." She chuckled. "When I was six, her dream for me was to be a ballet dancer. That lasted about three lessons before I crotch-kicked the instructor."

  "Ouch." I nodded at a cloaked figure wearing a green mask that glowed slightly under the nearly-shapeless hood hiding any remaining traces of gender. "I take it all was not well in Mudville?"

  "You could say that." We turned into a slightly-broader hallway. She checked the map again and nodded. "You could also say we're here."

  "Are we?" I let my lips twist in an amused half-smile.

  She chuckled and shook her head in mock annoyance. She looked at me so I shrugged and gestured that she should precede me. There were two doors and I didn't want to make the mistake of entering the wrong one.

  "Apres vous," I said, stepping behind her.

  I wasn't sure what I was thinking at this point. I'd stepped into a character, just not the one I'd thought I'd play.

  That's how it always worked, though. I planned out a character and when I tried to step into him I always wound up in someone else. They grew, organically, into something altogether different. If the system didn't work so well I'd probably have found a different way to do it.

  Two problems, though. First problem was that I liked this guy. I wished I was more like him. Second was I couldn't pretend to be him for much longer. As soon as I talked to Magda, I was off.

  Off where, though? What was my next step, anyway?

  Hopefully talking to Magda would point me in a direction to go. If not, well, I'd take it from there. But first I was hungry.

  "...and in walks the sonuvabitch I was looking for! I threw the cooze I'd been askin' where he was out the window and grabbed him instead. He started crying, if you could believe it!"

  My companion stiffened. She recognized the voice booming over the others in the hall. By extension, so did I.

  Grid Iron was having a meal with some cronies. That could prove interesting.

  "Let's just get something to eat. He might not bother you if he sees you're with someone," I said quietly to her. I could see the muscles on her neck outlined from how tense they were. It was infectious --- I could feel my jaw clench so hard my teeth started to hurt.

  "You're right. I belong here just as much as he does."

  "More so," I said before I could stop myself. "Now let's get our food."

  "Right."

  Food was served somewhat informally. You grabbed a tray and approached the grill station on the side wall. They cooked your food to order or, if you didn't like any of the three choices prepared in advance, you ate from the salad bar. I wasn't in the mood for clam chowder or three bean salad, and since my companion hated meatloaf with a passion, we decided to get something from the grill. It was broken up into four different sections. I headed for the so-called "Szechuan Palace" part to get some tofu stir fry and she made a beeline to the short-order part. I waited patiently while the small woman behind the counter tossed my food together, delicious smells wafting around me. When I glanced over I saw the somewhat dull-looking man handling her food putting some onion rings over the slice of yellowish cheese to finish the rather thick burger she'd ordered. I had to admit, not that it took much, that it looked damn good.

  My food was done first, but not by much. Probably because the woman who'd served me had been on the ball and my companion's cook had taken three explanations to figure out what she'd wanted. I was fumbling rather dubiously with the plastic wrapper on the chopsticks I'd been handed, trying to figure out how to open it without breaking the bamboo sticks, when she thanked the man and took the burger from him. I put the chopsticks back on the tray before picking it up so I could join her.

  "Where would you like to sit?" I wanted to keep my back against a wall, if possible, but it didn't look like there were too many seats available like that.

  "Anywhere's fine with me, as long as we're not too close to that prick."

  I nodded. "I understand. Well, let's look around a bit and see what we can see."

&nbs
p; We'd picked a bad time to come eat. The seats were almost all full, though as cliquish as any elite group of people were there were plenty of empties.

  Almost all of those were by the group of three loudmouthed jerks sitting smack dab in the middle of the room. Grid Iron I recognized instantly by his costume. Not too many people wandered around with football pads under their shirts unless they were on the field. His two companions, however, I didn't know. I knew the type, though. Most people would if they ever played on a playground as a kid. Toadies.

  High-powered toadies, to be sure. The one on the left held himself like a speedster, though the costume covered with day-glow lightning bolts might mean he was a volt-head instead. The one on the right looked like a reject from a Goth band. Probably a spell-caster. Judging from the amount of jewelry on his wrists and fingers he wouldn't have a varied or enduring spell list, but that didn't mean he wasn't hell for strong with the spells he could cast.

  Goddamn warlocks. They made my skin crawl.

  I turned my head slightly to look past the trio of idiots when I saw a face I knew very intimately. I cursed silently when I saw how close it was to the people I wanted to avoid.

  "Okay, let's try a new plan. I see a friend I haven't seen in a long time sitting over there, but she's a lot closer to those three jackasses than I'd like. So we'll go over there, try to blend into the crowd, and hope that either we're not seen or they won't make a scene if we've got cover. How's that sound?"

  "I don't know," she began, looking rather unsure of herself. "You sure it'll be okay?"

  "I promise. If he tries to start anything, I'll finish it."

  She gave me an appraising look that ended with a disparaging but good-natured laugh and a head-shake.

  My look around the room told me a few things. First off, if the Guild were to be classified into three lists --- A-list, B-list, and C-list --- the A list was not in residence.

  That figured. The Justice Fiend had a compound in Rio he rarely left anymore. The Fabulous Finnegan ran a string of 4- and 5-star hotels across the globe. The Incredible Hunk spent half his time making gay porn movies. He claimed he was gay-for-pay only, but when the offers came in to make some straight films he'd declined. It wasn't my place to judge, but don't lie about it if you already know.

  The list went on, though. I saw no signs of Rockcrusher, a stone-skinned super almost as tough and strong, but nowhere near as mean as, The Justice Fiend. Rebel Yell was absent as well. Mayhem, The Evil Eye, The Amender, Penance, Vernon Truesdale, and even the Jesus freak Mama Josephine were all missing. None of them were big enough to have their own compounds or industries, but they were quite famous in their own right.

  Being a hero didn't pay well unless you really did something spectacular. With that in mind, considering the Guild provided food, shelter, medical attention, training facilities, companionship, and all the hero-worship you could handle, why were all of them missing when there wasn't a national or world crisis going on?

  Maybe they'd come to hate the company.

  We skirted Grid Iron and his bunk buddies successfully. I hadn't doubted that we would, though I got to hear a nicely graphic description of what he'd done to a suspected bank robber he'd cornered in a run-down hotel about a month back. At least he'd sent flowers to the funeral when the real criminal had been caught. I doubted the widow had found much comfort in the dozen lilies he'd given her to replace the dozen pieces she'd found her husband in, but his cronies snickered like a bunch of rednecks hearing a racist joke.

  What the hell was it about that laugh that made me want to put the laugher's face through a car door?

  Years of intensive tactical training and over a hundred and fifty operations, almost all under fire, of varying lengths and intensities, and I couldn't decide exactly how to get the attention of a woman who used to be my lover in an appropriate way. How pathetic.

  Since her friends wouldn't recognize me, I wasn't worried about them seeing me, but I did make sure that Magda's back was to me as we approached. I wanted to make sure there was no warning before I got there. I could feel myself tensing up and smell the ozone starting to filter into the air around me as I stepped closer. I was almost as nervous at the thought of seeing her again as I'd been the night I popped my cherry.

  "Are these seats taken?" There were a few seats on both sides of where she was sitting that were open, so as far as she knew the new arrival was asking about any of them.

  "Nope, help yourself." Her voice was sweeter than I remembered it being.

  I rocked my head to the side to indicate my companion should take the next seat before I plunked myself down next to her.

  "Thank you. Long time no see, Magda."

  She didn't choke. She came close though. She managed to get the food down, with the aid of whatever bubbly brown goop she'd had in her cup, instead of spewing it all over her friends. I'm sure they were glad of that.

  "How the hell did you get in here?" She turned to glare at me and spied my companion. "And did Jessie have anything to do with it? What do you want?"

  "What order do you want those answered in?" I tried to look innocent. I was badly out of practice.

  She tried to speak a few times but nothing coherent came out. Finally she sputtered something and slapped the table on either side of her tray hard enough to make the table shake and several people nearby to go silent and look our way. I smiled and waved at them.

  "Christ." She finally managed. "Just tell me how the hell you got in here."

  "I walked in the front door. Nobody stopped me, nobody questioned me---"

  "Bullshit. I installed those Power Gauges myself and recalibrated them last week. There is no way they're out of whack already."

  I shrugged. "Probably not, though they might be a little conservative."

  "How the hell did you get in here, then? Alpha Zulu figure out some trick with one of the toys I left behind?"

  I'd underestimated how angry she was still.

  "Not exactly." I turned to Jessie. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize she was going to be this angry with me. You want to go sit somewhere else?"

  "No," she said, looking around at the staring faces. "I think I'm already fucked."

  "That's the spirit," I said quietly. "Now hold on, when this plays out you'll be a lot more popular than you are now. More association with Magda, at the very least, will help. But if anything... bad happens, duck and cover and don't come out till it's over, alright? You don't want to be associated with it."

  "If anything happens?" Magda asked, incredulous. "Do you really think you could get away with doing something to me in here, surrounded by all these heroes? Has Kinsey really corrupted you that much, you fucking wanker?"

  "What? Do something to you? I just wanted to talk to you! Fuck me!" I pushed my tray across the table and had to stop it before it fell over the side. Another small flash of ozone tickled my nostrils as I clamped down a little hard, making a piece of steaming tofu explode rather messily.

  Needless to say that by now I'd managed to attract the attention of everyone in the room. So much for anonymity and making a clean entry and exit.

  "Did you just do that?" Magda whispered, apparently oblivious to the look of annoyance on a friend's face as she wiped splattered tofu and stir fry sauce off her mask. "How did you do that?"

  "Things are different. I'm different. I wanted to tell you, but no! you couldn't just let me talk."

  "I'm sorry," she said, looking at me with an awed look. "When I left, Kinsey said..."

  I didn't get to hear what Kinsey had said. A rough hand crashed down on my shoulder heavily, catching me by surprise, so I couldn't stop most of the force from hitting me. It hurt.

  "I think it's time you leave before I make you leave, cum-stain."

  Grid Iron. Of course. I could smell the reek of booze and expensive cologne blasting off him. The room had grown very quiet, so I could hear his cronies wheezing behind him. How on earth a speedster could wheeze was beyond me, but this one managed it. />
  "You'd better pull that hand back before I pull it off," I said quietly to nobody in particular.

  "Say what?" He laughed cruelly as he started to squeeze my shoulder. I didn't let him. I could feel his frustration level rising as he squeezed what must have felt like solid rock.

  I turned my head toward Jessie and mouthed "Get Down" before turning to look at Magda. By now Grid Iron was desperately trying to pull his hand away. She must have recognized the look on my face.

  "Don't."

  I raised my left eyebrow quizzically.

  "Just don't," she said. I didn't know if she was worried about me or about what would happen if I did something to him, but by then it didn't matter.

  I forced a cheerful smile and turned to face the would-be bouncer.

  "I hear tell you're a real asshole. Grid Iron, right?" I let him yank his hand free, finally, feeling a small burst of pleasure as he fell backwards into his friends. "I hear tell you like to get rough with anyone you think you have power over. Crooks, noobs, children, women you're about to have sex with. Yeah, I hear tell you have to smack them around to get it up. That true?" I paused long enough to close the gap between myself and the three of them, but not long enough for him to say anything. "Doesn't matter, really. I guess that's because you're just a really heartless bastard. I've never met a heartless bastard before. Would you mind terribly if I checked something out? It's in the name of science. I'd like to prove it one way or another, okay?"

  I was close enough to strike, so I did.

  He was wearing shoulder and chest pads that were woven from a bulletproof fabric and reinforced with ceramic and carbon fiber panels. I didn't even bother to try getting through them. I might not have had a problem, but it would have slowed me down if I had.

  His stomach was bare. Probably so everyone could see how his beer gut had started to obliterate the former musculature he'd maintained as an athlete. It was enough.