The first thing Davis said after showing Chloe that scalpels couldn't cut him was "So, I decided to be a superhero."
There were probably a number of sensible responses to that. Counter-arguments. Offers of good psychiatric help. Mute nods. And, in general, sentences that were not "Do you have a costume?"
Admittedly, a certain amount of backstory is required to explain how one goes from the avoidance that is natural with a confession of undying love one week before your wedding… especially when said confession doesn't come from who you're getting married to… but when the second participant in your doodled stick-figure porn works at a hospital, and you're in the business of meteor-infected who tend to either go to hospitals or put people in hospitals, the only way you can guarantee not to meet is to do a good job of holding a hand in front of your face as you run through the corridors. Unfortunately, Chloe had done a bad job.
"Chloe Sullivan! Just the blonde ambition I was looking for!" Davis had said, rushing to her side. Her right side. "Why are you holding your hand in front of the left side of your face?"
"It's good luck. For the wedding."
"Ah. I suppose you need all the luck you can get." Davis winced. "Okay, sorry, not at all why I've been looking for you. I need to show you something."
"If it's your dick in a box, that stopped being funny months ago."
"No, this is deep-blue Isis Foundation stuff. Strictly professional."
This led to them going into a supply closet, him taking out a scalpel, and him confessing his ambition to be the next Peter Parker. And her asking if I had a costume.
"Not as such, but I drew a sketch." He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. "I was figuring I would get a professional costumer to do it, but through a third party… you know, like a hostage exchange or something. So he couldn't identify me when I show up on the evening news punching out the Green Goblin, chasing the Black Cat…"
"Uh-huh." Chloe took a look at the drawing. "So, you just got done with watching the Matrix trilogy back to back to back?"
"That bad, huh?"
"Didn't you see The Incredibles? What kind of idiot wears a cape?"
"That's actually a duster… it's not a Matrix thing," he said defensively. "It's a Firefly thing."
"Okay, that's worth some points. But, really, skintight black leather?"
He leaned forward. "Distraction."
"For easily frightened cows?"
"Getting stabbed through the chest by your cousin has made me slightly defensive. The way I see it, if any Baroness von Supervillain tries to end my never-ending battle, the sight of my goods will distract them long enough for me to soundly restrain them."
"Well, I'm glad you've put some thought into this." Chloe headed for the door. "Tell me how it goes."
"Hey, I need your help!"
"You seem to have everything well in hand."
"Look, I've been on patrol… had an old winter coat and a Zorro mask lying around… the only crime I found was some littering. And maybe solicitation charges for the one or two people who assumed I was a hustler. But you could point to the real bad guys! Corporate villains, organized crime, the guys who made Max Payne…"
"Would you stop joking? You're asking me to sanction you risking your life!"
He grew a bit serious. "So you do care. Kinda hard to tell from here."
She took another look at the sketch. "I know a guy who might be able to help."
Rob Field was a straight man. In point of fact, he loved the pussy. You could just ask him if you weren't sure. But because meteor rocks had given him the power of instantly being able to compare fashions against the cultural zeitgeist, he had started to doubt his masculinity. It wasn't the same level of problem that most meteor-empowered dealt with, but Chloe tried to feel compassion for him all the same.
"Doable. Very doable," he said, looking at the drawing. "Are you sure this has to be leather? Leather doesn't breathe. I think maybe if we throw in some nylon…"
"Just make it look nice," Chloe said.
"Okay. Hey, after this, do you wanna watch Commando? I was just about to start if when you came in."
"No thanks."
"Why are there so many pouches?" Davis asked as he strapped another belt onto his thigh, like he was going to be carrying a Glock around. "I don't remember drawing this many pouches. What am I going to keep in all these pouches? Gum?"
"All your Bond gadgets, I guess." Chloe was holding Davis's duster, which had yet more pouches sewn into it.
"I don't have any Bond gadgets. You know, someone is going to ring my cell-phone and I am going to spend all night trying to find which pouch I put it in."
"You'd better see your cell on vibrate. It's only fair to the forces of evil. Oh, here." She held out an earpiece. "We won't be communicating by phone."
"Thank God. You'd use up all my minutes." He wound it into his ear and down his collar into a pouch, which also contained a mic.
"See? You do have a Bond gadget." She backed up to the Isis Foundation's computer, where a microphone was waiting. "Testing, one two."
"I've got you." He turned and let her help her into the coat. "So, what's on tonight's agenda? Drug-runners? Gun-runners? Some third type of runners who are evil?"
"Marketing executive."
"What, did he come up with a really annoying jingle?"
Chloe tossed him the file. "His name is Walter Priski and his son got into a fight with Melvin Smith. They go to the same school. Melvin's mom is meteor-empowered, and she passed on her powers to him. It's the ability to induce vertigo, and Melvin only used it to get out of the fight and run for it. But since then, the Smiths have been getting threatening phone calls, rocks thrown at their windows, anti-meteor graffiti…"
Davis nodded. "Right. Talk jingle-boy into not being such a douche. No problem."
Davis piled into the backseat of Chloe's VW. "Drive."
"What'd you do?"
There was frenzied barking.
"Drive!"
They peeled off just as some Rottweilers made it to the sidewalk.
Davis pulled off his half-mask. "Okay, next time we do this, you check to see if the bad guy owns dogs!"
"I'll add Humane Society to my list of hacks… but according to the firearms registry, he didn't have a gun, right?"
"No…" Davis rubbed his head. "His wife had a frying pan, though."
"Poor baby…"
"Hey, just because I'm invulnerable, doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."
"Yes… deep down… where you're soft, like a woman."
He finger-flicked the back of her neck. "He looked good and scared. I doubt he'll be giving the Smiths anymore trouble. I lose points for dignified exit, but not bad for our first time."
"'Our'?" Chloe repeated dubiously.
"Yes. You're my sidekick."
Chloe laughed. "What? Like… Bucky and Captain America?"
"Or Toro and the Human Torch."
"Nerd."
"Admit it, you're geeking out about being my sidekick."
"I am not your sidekick."
"Partner?" He leaned across the passenger seat. "Senior associate?"
"This was crazy."
"You know what else sounded crazy the first time someone suggested it? Quantum physics."
Chloe looked over at him, mainly to see if he was keeping a straight face. He smiled at her and punched her arm.
"C'mon, partner, let's get some drive-thru to celebrate. I'm buying."
"It's eleven o'clock."
"Past your bedtime?"
"No, it's just… Jimmy will be worried."
"So give him a call, tell him you're busy at work."
"I don't like lying to him."
"So tell him you're with a friend."
"I would prefer to just head home. I'm tired." She faked a yawn. "See? I need my beauty sleep."
"Not from where I'm sitting."
Chloe turned on the radio. A country music ballad filled the small car.
Davis slumped back in his seat and began changing into street clothes. Chloe didn't look at the rear-view mirror… much.
They parked on the curb.
"Want me to walk you to your door?" Davis asked.
"I don't think Jimmy would appreciate that."
"You gonna structure your whole life around what the walking inferiority complex likes?"
"You gonna spend your whole life wanting what you can't have?"
She got out of the car. So did he. They walked up to the front door.
"This is immature," Chloe said.
"If he really trusted you, he wouldn't be bothered by you being out with a guy… even someone who's hopelessly in love with you."
Chloe sighed and put her key in the lock, but she barely had time to rattle it before the door swung open. Jimmy smiled at her, glowered a little at Davis.
"Hey, Chlo. Dave. What're you two doing out so late?"
"Floral arrangements. I was helping her pick."
Jimmy frowned. "I thought we already settled on the floral arrangements."
Chloe started to answer, but Davis beat her to the punch. "Yeah, but then Clark thought they looked ugly, so Chloe decided to reevaluate her options."
Jimmy's eyebrows scrunched up most unattractively. "I like the floral arrangement."
"Of course, the floral arrangement is fine, Jimmy," Chloe assured him. "Just last-second jitters."
"You know, cold feet?" Davis added.
"Well, I saved you some pizza," Jimmy said, beating a hasty retreat. "I'll go nuke it in the microwave."
"Thanks, Jimmy." Chloe moved to follow him, but Davis leaned against the doorframe, barring her path.
"You didn't tell him."
Chloe ducked under his arm. "There's nothing to tell. And that wasn't funny."
"It was kinda funny."
"No it wasn't."
"I can see you trying not to laugh."
"I am so very far from laughing right now."
"You so want to giggle. The minute you shut the door, you're going to laugh like a hyena."
"Good night, Davis."
She shut the door.
Jimmy came back a moment later. "What's so funny, Chlo?"
"Nothing." She turned to see his offering. Half a slice of pepperoni pizza on a paper plate.
"I got hungry," he said plaintively.
"It's fine. I'm watching my weight anyway. Gotta…" she pumped her arm unenthusiastically, "squeeze into that wedding dress."