Author's Note:
This chapter took way longer to get out than I had hoped. I kind of expected that since both Feb and March are very difficult for me with kid / school activities. So writing takes a backseat in those months fo the most part. Still, here is the latest chapter.
Three reviewers: "Guest", sanabalis, and Akasha Drake figured out the significance of Taylor's cape names. Answer: both names are a type of Forget-Me-Not plant. Same as title.
Reviewer "Guest" also left many suggestions, of which the first one being used is in this chapter. It has to do with Sophia. Hope you like it.
As always: I will give a special shout-out to anyone who finds any of the Easter eggs hidden in the story. Some are more visible than others.
Thank you to my beta: World Theory.
-oo00oo-
Location: Paul Westfield's house. 09:11am, Friday, February 18th, 2011.
HONK! Blared the noise of an ex-UPS van that was painted white again.
Yawning as he came down the stairs, Paul Westfield turned into a cliché as he idly scratched his left pit while still pulling on his shirt over his hairy upper body. "Ma!" he said loudly just shy of the point where people would have called it yelling. "I'm heading out with the guys today!"
"Hold it!" came an equally loud voice with the inflection of a 3-packs a day habit. A mature woman with long, graying hair came around the corner from the kitchen to the hallway. She wore fluffy slippers and a fluffy robe over her flannel jams. Her apparel was designed to hold in maximum heat since the houses on the east coast which had been build nearly a century earlier, was notoriously bad in keeping heat from escaping.
"What?" Paul returned to his mother while pulling his winter coat on.
"Where do you think you're going? What are you doing when you get there? No, screw that! You need a job since you're not in school anymore."
"Ma," Paul rolled his eyes. "Me and the guys have a job, ma."
"Working for the Empire as a thug? That's not a job. That's an arrest waiting to happen. If you're lucky."
Paul shook his head and said, "Nah. Me and the guys resigned from the E88 last night. We got a job instead."
Janice Westfield smiled in relief. "That's wonderful news! Where are you working?"
"We work for ourselves!" Paul smiled back proudly.
"Um… doing what?"
"We collect things for the police," her son replied honestly (for once).
Janice bit her lip slightly as she thought how best to reply. "While I'm glad it is something you are doing for the police, what exactly are you collecting?"
"Guns."
"…guns?"
"Yep. Guns. You know, pistols, rifles, bazookas."
"Guns!?"
"Yeah," her son beamed his smile at her. "We get reward money for all the illegal guns we turn in to the cops. We figured it out after we found a lot of guns on the side of the road that the E88 specifically did not leave there."
"Guns?!"
"Yeah. And I know what you're thinking. You're thinking how in the world am I going to find all the illegal guns in the city? Not a problem. For some reason I can smell guns, so finding them won't be hard. You know, it smells a bit gunny in here, so one of our neighbors must have something. I'll have to look into that when I get back tonight. I gotta go. Guys are waiting outside in the van."
"Um, okay," Janice didn't know what else to say. "Tell me all about your first day tonight."
"I may be late if we get on a roll," he said as he opened the front door, waved to the guys in the van, and headed out to some gainful employment.
Janice Westfield watched her son leave the house with an energized spring in his step. Once the front door closed behind him, she looked over to at the cannister of flour on the kitchen counter. She wondered if her son had actually smelled the .38 special that was sealed in a ziplock baggie that she kept hidden in the flour cannister. If he did, then she might have to give it back to Mrs. Rogers who had in turn gotten it from Mrs. Knesselly who in turn had taken it from the passed-out drug addict that had napped on her lawn a few years earlier.
-oo00oo-
Location: Shamrock Gas on 13th. 10:11am, Friday, February 18th, 2011.
Larry pulled the van into the Shamrock station, stopped next to the aging pumps and cut the engine. Jimmy jumped out the side door and began to pump gas into the tank. That was going to take about six minutes which gave Harry Stivic and Kyle Burns enough time to use the restroom. Harry and Kyle made sure their pistols were loaded and easily accessible as they made their way to the men's room. As usual, the station's restrooms were accessed from the outside.
Normally, Harry and Kyle would just pick up rocks to carry inside the restrooms to kill any of the room's residents that weren't customers, let alone human. Rodents and hard-to-kill insects found restrooms the cat's meow, so to speak. Now, Harry and Kyle had better weapons when they went in.
Meanwhile, in the van Ralph Kramden III went over to where Paul was reviewing his notes in a small notebook. Ralph noticed Paul's writing was more like chicken scratches than writing, but Paul was at least keeping notes.
"Hey Paul," Ralph began. "How many guns have we collected so far?"
Paul flipped the notebook back to where the day started and said, "Let's see. We got six handguns at the 3rd Ave Library."
"Heh-heh, yeah. Those librarians weren't happy about that," Ralph chortled.
"Nope," Paul agreed.
"Jesus Christ! Look at the size of that fucker! Kill it!" Kyle yelled.
Blam! Blam-blam!
"Got that rat! Stall is clear!" Harry shouted back.
"At the Qwick-E-Mart on 4th Avenue we collected 22 pistols from a bunch of dope-heads."
"I wonder if they planned to pay for those donuts there or just hold the place up?"
"Don't know, don't care," Paul said simply.
"You know, Skidmark ain't gonna be happy about us taking their pistols," Ralph pointed out.
"Still don't care," Paul replied. "At the 5th Ave Exxon station we collected 2 handguns, 1 shotgun, and 2 Uzi's of all things."
"Yeah, that vacationing couple from Vermont had no excuses for any of those weapons."
"I was more concerned that the Uzi's actually worked. They were old, and the safety was broken," Paul said.
"Yep," Ralph agreed.
"At Luck's Pawn on 6th Avenue we confiscated 51 pawned stolen weapons. Breakout was 38 handguns, and the rest rifles."
"Jesus Christ! There's three of those fuckers over there! Kill 'em!" Harry yelled.
Blam! Blam-blam! Blam!
"They're running!" Kyle shouted.
"They're running at me, shithead! Fuck it! I can hold it!"
Moments later Harry and Kyle ran out of the restroom, which was anything but restful, and jumped into the van. Jimmy finished fueling, paid the attendant at the window, and moments later the van was on the move.
Minutes later they were at the 1st Ave Brockton Bay Police Station. There, the boys dropped off their weapons, collected receipts for the drop-offs, given a few donuts and some coffee for the good job, and well wishes for doing more work.
Harry and Kyle managed to also use the restroom there.
-oo00oo-
Location: 2nd Street and 3rd Ave. 3:11pm, Friday, February 18th, 2011.
Coil split a timeline as he enjoyed doing. He was a master planner, he knew. After all, he had acquired powers when others his age would have simply rolled over and died from boredom. He had planned his way into creating a secret base in Brockton Bay that city planners and budget people didn't even know they helped finance building. He had planned and acquired his pet precog. She was good and hooked to where she gave answers when needed. He utilized those answers ruthlessly against his opponents. But today's answers had been very unusual. It all boiled down to one question: chance of success with today's activities in Aggressive Negotiations? Answer: 0 percent.
That had caused him to pause. It wasn't that that particular negotiation tactic would fail (it had failed in the past he knew). No, what bothered him was that it failed 100 percent. He wanted the new cape in town. She was able to do seemingly anything, and he wanted her. Therefore, with the aggressive negotiations out the window, his next question of giving her the easy-sell package to join up had also resulted in a 0 percent success. Both failing before they started was worrisome. Therefore, Coil needed more information.
In Timeline A, Coil gave a green-light to the Aggressive Negotiations package plan and sent the information to Captain Ben Prius, the man in charge of all his mercenaries. In Timeline B, Coil resumed normal operations and watched as events unfolded in Timeline A.
Timeline A:
"We have visual on target," said a voice over the radio which was heard back at the base by Capt. Prius.
The captain confirmed no countermands were in place and replied, "You have a go."
The order crackled over the radio that Sgt. Robert Branson wore under his civvies.
"Acknowledged," Sgt. Branson replied. A nod to the three other men in the car had them quickly exiting the vehicle and walking on an intercept course towards a young girl who was in turn on her way home from school. They'd had a visual on the young girl since she left school and had followed discretely, sometimes swapping blocks and jumping in front of her in order to validate the visual. It was her.
She had left school without any others walking with her. Others had been on the same course as her, but she eventually was walking on the sidewalk alone, a backpack over her shoulder, her hair back in a ponytail, heading towards her home. They knew the address she was headed towards, but didn't know that her name was Taylor Hebert. It wasn't mission-critical to know that.
Their instructions were clear: take the young woman into custody. Alive. Relatively unhurt. It wasn't as if they hadn't done things like that before, so they were okay with the orders. Pay was still the same. The nod from Sgt. Robert Branson was all that it took to get Claude Smith, Klause Jones, and Johann Green to prepare their mindset for what they were about to do.
They were parked a block up from the target. In a half minute they were close enough to see that their target wasn't showing any indication of elevated alertness, situational awareness, or anything that was abnormal from a teenage girl. The four men wearing their non-military outfits were only 20 feet away when a former-UPS van, now painted white screeched to a halt next to them and a bevy of formerly illegal guns were immediately pointed in their faces.
A man stepped out of the passenger side sliding door and walked around the front of the vehicle, his gun at the ready. "Okay, guys, let's see your license and registration for those guns you're carrying," he ordered.
"What guns? We are just out for a stroll on a nice January afternoon," the tallest gentleman with the scar across an eyebrow that went sideways over his nose and to the mid-point of the cheek said in a heavy German accent.
Paul rolled his eyes and said, "Guys? Don't do this. I get that you don't have your license or registration. Fine. Just hand over all your guns to my guys or, you know, they'll open fire on you and we'll just take them off your corpses."
"But like Claude said, we don't have guns, yes?" the second biggest camper said behind his brown beard, heavy muscles, and scowling mouth.
"Liar!" Paul yelled, and aimed his gun at the nearest person who he didn't know was Sgt. Branson. "I can smell them on you! You have one in that left pocket of your jacket; he has one in the lower of his back. Now hand 'em over, goddammit!"
The two youngest of Paul's group, Kyle Burns and Harry Stivic had leapt at the chance to make a difference with the Empire, but these days were very interested in making some cash. Kyle and Harry had taken flanking positions on the four guys with the hidden guns on their bodies. It wasn't the first time they had done it today, and likely wouldn't be the last. If Paul said they had it, then they had it.
The four mercenaries themselves looked at one another and thought about complying up to a point. Said point would be to pull the weapons out, act as if they were giving them over, and then pulling a fast one and shooting all these kids. However, Sgt. Branson noticed one of the kids right away. The family resemblance was there all right. Years earlier he'd had the unfortunate experience of working for a Major Frank Burns who was one of the most psychotic officers in the military. The man was nuts enough that in a fight, he could take a fatal round and still keep on killing those bastards stupid enough to still be trying to kill him. Bad thing was: fatal shots to the Major never turned out to be fatal enough. The man kept living and if this kid was either the Major's son (unlikely) or grandson (very likely), then the last thing he wanted was to do anything to this kid.
"Hand over the guns, guys," Sgt. Branson ordered his team. He was in charge and while not happy about it, they followed orders and handed over four pistols.
Paul nodded at their compliance and said, "Thank you for that. Now hand over the three others."
"How did you…" Sgt. Branson started.
"I told you, I can smell them on you. C'mon, c'mon, hand them over. I'm on a schedule."
Klause, Johann, and Robert handed over the remaining guns. The kids with all the guns pointed at them had not stopped the pointing of guns at them.
"I guess you want the knives as well?" Sgt. Branson nearly snarled.
Paul began backing up, as did the others, their guns still on the four men. "Nah. Don't get a reward for any of those. Now if these guns are legal, bring your license and registration to the police station on Ash and collect them. Otherwise, don't. C'mon, guys. We're out of here. I'm smelling something a couple blocks away."
"Whoo-hoo!" the others in the van whooped as they slammed the doors and the van took off in a rush.
Sgt. Robert Branson watched the van screech away and looked at his men. "What just happened?"
Taylor Hebert had watched the altercation between kids with guns and grown-ups with guns-not-drawn and felt obligated to point out the obvious for the poor guys who looked odd in the clothes they were wearing. "You guys just got mugged," she said simply.
Sgt. Robert Branson stood tall and imposing, especially over this waif of a girl, and said, "Miss? We're still armed and want you to come with us. Quietly and undamaged, or quietly and damaged: your choice."
"Come where? You didn't say the location. Did you forget or something?" Taylor inquired.
"Of course we didn't forget the, uh… dammit!" Sgt. Branson said irritably.
"You know, if you're going to swear, you could at least do it in German, or did you all forget that you only understand German."
"Sie, wer auch immer Sie sind, ruft die Basis an und fragt nach Bestellungen. Eile!" ordered Sgt. Branson to the other men.
(translated from German): "You, whoever you are, call the base and ask for orders. Hurry!"
"Wer bist du noch mal? Und wo bin ich?" Klause Jones asked of the barking-orders man.
(translated from German): "Who are you again? And where am I?"
"Hast du mich von Basic entführt? Ist das ein Raz? Oder willst du mich beschönigen?" Johann Green said as he pointed a finger from one man to the other.
(translated from German): "Did you guys abduct me from basic? Is this a raz? Or are you going to roofie me, because let me tell you, I'm not into that."
"Hat jemand die Zeit? Ich weiß, dass ich einen Termin habe, aber ich kann mich an nichts erinnern," Claude Smith said.
(translated from German): "Anyone got the time? I know I have an appointment, but I can't remember, um, anything about it."
"Adios!" Taylor waved at the confused men as she continued towards home.
"Was hat sie gerade gesagt?" Robert wanted to know.
(translated from German) "What did she just say?"
Coil sat and watched this other timeline from his alternate-self's desk with the video feed coming from their body cams, and the audio coming from the microphones and the ear pieces they all work. What this new cape had done to her men, he wouldn't forget, nor would she remember once he dropped that timeline.
Timeline B
However, seconds before he was to drop that timeline, a buzzer sounded on the main access doors to his northern hidden base. He activated the cameras and microphones. He zoomed into the person at the "front door." No. It couldn't be. How had the little bastard tracked him down here of all places?!
"Hello?!" yelled the obviously 12-year-old child with a canvas bag over his shoulder. "Collecting for January's papers! Hello? Mr. Calvert?! I know you're in there. I expect a tip this time!"
Coil dropped Timeline B. He could live with four less mercenaries. He was not going to be caught by that little shit of a paperboy again if he could help it.
But now that he thought about it, shit! That paperboy knew where he was. He needed to rotate everyone to his western secret base.
-oo00oo-
Location: The Rig, Director Piggot's office. 5:11pm, Friday, February 18th, 2011.
"Enter!" barked Director Emily Piggot to the knock on her door. She looked up from the budget report justifications and immediately noticed Miss Militia enter the office holding a couple pieces of paper.
"Director," Miss Militia began without pause. "I think we have a problem."
"How bad?" Emily replied. After all, the nature of her job was dealing with problems, so this wasn't anything new.
"Quite serious." Miss Militia then handed over the two sheets in her hand.
The Director accepted the papers and read them. She then read them a second time, slower, to make sure she hadn't misread them the first time. She hadn't. "Is this for real?" she asked of Miss Militia.
The scarf-wearing cape shook her head and replied, "I sincerely doubt it ma'am."
"I have to agree with you on that. Who else did you show this to?"
"Dr. Franklin."
"His thoughts about it?"
"He agreed with my summation which is at the bottom of page 2," Hannah replied professionally.
"Very well. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. Fill her slot with another in the rotation. I'll handle it now."
"Yes, ma'am," came the succinct answer.
A few minutes later Director Piggot had Chief Director Costa-Brown on the phone.
"What is it, Emily?" the Chief Director started in her usual no-nonsense manner.
"Ma'am," Emily Piggot began. "We've determined that Shadow Stalker hasn't been mastered over the past few days. We believe she is just acting out at school for the attention. Which throws doubt onto her being mastered before then. Due to a further, and deeper investigation, we found out that she was involved with that locker incident at Winslow back in early January."
"None of that is enough of a reason for you to contact me, Emily. This is in your area to address."
"Yes, ma'am," Emily agreed. "However, of more immediate concern is the most recent NDA Hess turned in. She has identified Kaiser as a person in-the-know of her secret identity with Kaiser as the one who signed it. Hess also sent in a note to be relieved from patrol and monitor duty for the weekend in order to catch up on her homework, also signed by Kaiser. As best Miss Militia, Dr. Franklin in psychiatry, and I can tell without actually interviewing her yet, we believe she's doing it as a subconscious cry for help. I would normally say it might even be from feelings of guilt, but I have met the cape and do not believe she feels guilty for anything she has done."
"Hmm, yes," Chief Director Costa-Brown acknowledged a few seconds later. "I can see how this escalated to my purview. A cape with psychological problems is something we have to handle with kid gloves, no pun intended. One second, Emily," she said.
Emily heard her over the phone typing quickly on a keyboard. She waited patiently, knowing better than to interrupt a superior who is working a problem through.
Within a minute, the Chief Director said, "I am sending the Squee Triplets to you, Emily. Their last assignment completed successfully so I have high hopes they will be successful with Miss Hess. Orders have been sent. They will arrive tomorrow in Brockton Bay. You are to have them work exclusively with Shadow Stalker and get this subconscious cry for help addressed."
"Yes, Chief Director," Emily replied, happy to have come away from a conversation with the Chief Director that didn't imply her death or firing, or anything else awful. Of course, that was foregoing the knowledge that the Squees would be in her office within 24 hours.
Still, those triplets had done wonders with other slacker capes in the past she knew.
-oo00oo-
Location: The Rig, Director Piggot's office. 8:11am, Saturday, February 19th, 2011.
The next morning Director Emily Piggot was in her office reviewing the overnight reports when her assistant popped in and let her know that the Squee Triplets were on their way up. Emily thanked the man and put away anything of importance on her desk, namely everything on her desk other than a monthly calendar and a pen, and even she wasn't sure about the pen. Soon enough, she heard the Squee trio approaching outside her doors and was soon face to face with them.
The first thing Emily noticed as the three young girls entered was that they were YOUNG. They couldn't have been older than 13 years of age. And that was stretching things. But as anything Emily had learned over the years when it came to powers, it was that she couldn't take anything for granted. Age, gender, nothing.
"Hello girls," Emily began with as much cheer as she could muster, which considering she worked in Brockton Bay, was saying something.
"Hi!" cheerily replied the lithe young blonde with a ponytail in a pink t-shirt, purple pants, and black shoes. She also had a smudge of something chocolate next to her lips.
"Hello!" grinned the lithe young blonde with a double ponytail in a green t-shirt, pink pants, and white shoes. She did not have a smudge of something chocolate next to her lips, but did have something yellow-ish that smelled suspiciously of lemon.
"Hiya!" cheekily greeted the last lithe young blonde with a triple ponytail in a purple t-shirt, green pans, and red shoes. She had something red smudged next to her lips.
Emily closed the door to her office once the girls were in and escorted them to her sitting area. "So who is who?" she asked of the trio.
"WHOOOO!" green t-shirt imitated an owl.
"WHOOO-WHOOO!" purple t-shirt imitated the imitation.
"WHOOO-WHOOO-WHOOO!" pink t-shirt imitated the imitationed imitation.
All three began laughing at the joke that Emily didn't get. And truthfully, no one else would get either.
Director Piggot's smile strained the muscle in her mouth as she kept her voice calm and said, "Right. Which of you is Jessica?"
"Me!" yelled the green t-shirt girl, her hand in the air.
"Pleasure to meet you, Jessica," Emily returned with the politeness still active. She knew she would pay for that later. She would need some extra time in the swear room. She looked at the remaining two girls and said, "And which of you is Kylie?"
"Me, me!" raised the hand of the pink t-shirt wearing girl.
"And that means you must be Linda," Emily looked at the purple t-shirt girl who nodded at a brisk 30MPH.
"Did anyone explain why you three are here?" Emily began.
"Oh no," Linda replied.
"No one ever tells us about these things," Kylie also replied.
"But it's always the same, which is really, really, REALLY awesome!" Jessica finished for them.
The three girls, who had initially sat on the couch for introductions, were now up and bouncing off the walls. Literally. They were like giant inflatable beach balls that bounced, boinged, and went splat against walls, ceiling, and floor.
"Girls?" Emily maintained her polite expression as she knew what would happen if she didn't. These capes were well known by all members of the PRT. Very well known.
"Yes, Director?" Linda began.
"Do you want something?" Kylie added.
"Would you like to bounce in a bouncy castle?" Jessica morphed into a girl-sized bouncy castle.
"I do! I do!" Kylie yelled and morphed back into herself before jumping into the bouncy castle.
"Me, me!" Linda cried before she too was in the bouncy castle.
All three girls were giggling as two of them jumped up and down in the cape-created bouncy castle.
Director Piggot smiled a strained smile at their antics and went back to her desk, opened a drawer and pulled out the last assessment of the Squee triplets done by Director Sandoval of the Texas PRT. It was short, but accurate. He wrote:
They are all bouncy, flighty, and have the attention span of a hyperactive dog who is redlining on puppy uppers. They all like their Barbie dolls, putting on make-up, giggling, and talking about boys while putting on make-up. Oh, and gummies. They love gummies. Do NOT give them any. You will regret it. They get enough sugar elsewhere.
"I'm hungry," announced Jessica who returned to human form.
"Me too," Linda agreed.
"Do you have any gummies?" Kylie asked Director Piggot.
Emily's danger sense went off in high alert as she smiled gently and replied, "I do not have at this moment, no. But I will make sure to get you some before you leave today, okay?"
The identical triplets smiled happily let out an ear-busting, "SQUEEE!"
Emily knew she needed to get them out of the Rig and quick. "I know. Let's play a game. I'm going to bring someone into this office I want you to help. Why don't you three hide behind that couch and when she comes in, I'll talk to her for a few moments and then introduce you three. Sound good?"
"We get to jump out and scare her?" Linda's eyes went wide.
"Yes," Emily replied with a slight nod.
"SQUEEEEEEEE!" all three squeeeed with maniacal grins of amusement on their faces.
They went about hiding in plain sight. Like, really hiding in plain sight. One of them took the appearance of her desk. The other an appearance of a chair. And the third an appearance of a clock. It wasn't as if she suddenly had duplicates of each in her office. Instead, they became those items even as they sat on the couch playing with their Barbie's. Emily was amazed again at the power of bullshit.
She made a call. "Miss Militia? It's time. Send Hess to my office."
Less than two minutes later, Hess entered her office, Emily's assistant closing the door behind her. Hess was dressed as Shadow Stalker and her mask was on. Still, Piggot could make out creases in the facial mask to know that Hess was not happy about being called into the Rig on a Saturday morning.
"You're being taken off active duty as there is a possibility, small as it is, that you have been compromised."
"What?! I'm not compromised!" Hess began argumentatively.
Emily shook her head negatively and said, "Then what would you call having Kaiser of all people sign a permission form for you to not be on monitor duty last night? No, you are off active duty for the foreseeable future until you get well again."
"I'm not sick!" Shadow Stalker protested angrily.
"Shadow Stalker, you turned in an excuse form with Kaiser as the signatory. You are obviously not feeling well since that signature is a forgery," Director Piggot explained.
"No, it's a real signature. My mom's dating Kaiser now, and…"
"Not to worry, Miss Hess. Both the Chief Director and I agree that you need special counseling. Due to you being a cape, your counseling is of the utmost importance to us to ensure you do not snap and use your powers for evil. As such, you are off active duty until your therapists are convinced you are well enough to resume it."
"My therapists? As in plural?!"
"Yes. And your session starts now. Meet Jessica, Kylie, and Linda. Otherwise known as… the Squees."
The three girls jumped out of the shapes they were hiding in because it was always fun to jump out of nowhere and smother the people that have lost the will to laugh. They jumped over Sophia (literally) and then worked on smother her, but only managed to get her legs. It was enough.
"Don't you worry, girly," instructed Linda.
"We'll get you all good and well again with our power of cuteness!" Kylie beamed.
"Yeah!" agreed Jessica. "We're gonna stamp out all that yucky dark stuff."
"SQUEEEEEEEEEE!" they grinned and squeeed in obvious enjoyment.
Surprising Emily, their squeeing did not hurt her ears this time. She looked at Shadow Stalker and noticed something was off however.
Shadow Stalker… no, Sophia Hess knew something wasn't right. The walls were closing in. She couldn't breathe. She ripped her mask off and took in several deep breaths which ended up as pants. She needed to get away.
Sophia looked at the Director, her eyes pleading as she said, "No, not the Squees." She, like many of the other capes in the country had heard of the triplets. She was understandably horrified, since she had heard of what they could do. And did do.
"I love your hair. It's all dark and curly and stuff. SQUEE!" Kylie hugged Sophia's left leg.
"And I love your outfit, even if it's all dark and yucky. SQUEE!" Linda hugged Sophia's right leg.
"And I love your shoes! They are so sensible! SQUEE!" Jessica hugged Sophia around the waist.
The three Squees broke the individual hugs, looked at one another with the same maniacal grins showing upper and lower teeth touching through thin lips and they all took an inhale. "SQUEE!" they chimed all together for about 15 seconds, showing they did indeed have good breath control.
Sophia rocked back, her hands on her ears. No, not the Squees. Not them, she mentally muttered to get their squeeing noise out of her head.
"You are in great shape, so we will find a dress for you to wear in no time! And squee!" grinned Linda.
"We brought a special Barbie for you. We give all our Barbie dolls names. This one is named… Barbie. Squee!" grinned Jessica.
"It looks just like you! This is going to be great! Let's do a slumber party right now! How about some make-up?! How about a slumber party where we can try out make-up all night long?! SQUEEE!" grinned Kylie.
"That sounds great," agreed Director Piggot. "I think you should all head towards Miss Hess's home as you will be living with her 24/7 until she is better."
"SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" went the triplets followed by a round of giggles.
"In fact, let me order the car brought up so you can all go to her place and get started. And I will get some gummies ordered for you at the same time."
"SQUUUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" went the triplets followed by another round of giggles.
Sophia tried and failed to go to shadow form around them. Anything to get away. And while they did not block her power like a nullifier, it was their cuteness that interfered with her darkness. She took a gulp of air. Then another. She needed to get focused.
"SQUEEEEEE!"
In a daze, Sophia was driven home with the three Squee's with her in the car, totally unaware that the girls were happily eating gummies. She wanted to punch them, but found she just… couldn't. At home, she was dragged up the stairs to her family apartment where she numbly opened the door.
Feeling more equilibrium return, she entered and saw Max at the kitchen table again. And this time the bastard was helping her sister with her homework, or maybe her sister helping with some problem that Max had. She wasn't certain, but she went to her mother.
The triplets ran into the apartment and ran about to look at everything.
"Mom!" Sophia said with emphasis. "You gotta help me."
"What is it, dear?" her mother replied kindly while watching the young girls jump on her couch. The girls noticed Megan and rushed over to her and hugged her legs as well, grinning madly.
"You gotta give these kids the Look. We gotta get rid of them. Give them The Look like you give Max and me, and pretty much everyone these days before they make me puke."
"You mean, giving you a Look like this?" Kylie said for the three of them.
And they give Sophia… the Look. Times three. Only this Look wasn't as intense with darkness and destruction. This look was filled with candy, sugar, unicorns, rainbows, and make-up. Sophia knew this and was revolted in a different manner than when she got that Look from her mother. The sugar and spice, all that made a girl nice… NO!
Sophia went down to a knee and took in more gulps of air. She ran various mantras through her mind to clear up the sugary unicorns! History videos that showed tanks firing round after round. Yes. Running. Jumping. Climbing. Her thoughts spanning to globe to bring the constant variety of sport… the thrill of victory… and the agony of defeat… the human drama of athletic competition. Yeah. That was what she needed. Competition. She blinked her eyes to force the sugary unicorns wearing rainbows to go away.
While Sophia struggled to come to grips with her thoughts, her mother went from looking at her eldest daughter to the trio of girls around her daughter.
"Ladies," she began. "What did you three just do?"
"Oh, we just gave her… The Look," replied the girl that Megan would learn was Linda.
"Uh-oh," Max said with real dread. "There's more of them."
"Hmm," said Megan. "You know, I don't really know what that comprises of. Do you mind doing that to me so I know what is going on?"
"Okay!" Kylie answered for them. They turned to Megan and gave her… The Look.
Megan's world exploded into smiles and happy people. Parents hugged their children. Children hugged their toys. Parents read to their kids. Parents played with their kids. There was much smiling, and singing, and for some strange reason, Barbie dolls.
The triplets stopped… The Look which allowed Megan to look at them. She went to a knee as well, a tear in her eye and pulled Jessica into a hug first. Jessica hugged her back.
"You understand it?!" questioned Linda as she was next to be pulled into a hug.
"Of course I do, you wonderful girls. Now you give me another hug," she ordered playfully, grabbing Kylie into the massive hug.
"SQUEEE!" they all but cheered while Megan Hess hugged them silly. A few minutes later they stopped, broke apart and the three Squees began to smother Sophia with more girly hugs and pulls on her mostly-unresisting hands as they wanted to see her room.
"What just happened?" Max wondered aloud from the kitchen table.
"The Squee sisters are going to make Sophia into a girl again," Sophia's sister, Suze Hess (an avid PHO junkie even in the 3rd grade) pointed out. "About damn time."
"Oh. That's okay then," Max agreed.
Megan looked towards where Sophia's room was and said, "I think so too. We might have to do something similar for Brad."
"You may be right. Melody is none too happy with him these days for some reason," Max replied, happy to be away from that complex 3rd Grade math.
"You don't know?" Megan arched an eyebrow towards him.
"I try not to intrude in people's lives these days," Max said honestly (for once).
"He got her pregnant," Megan said simply.
"The Dickens you say! Really?"
"I kid you not. That is how I got her job. Everyone in the office knows."
Max rubbed his chin in thought. "I'll need to talk to him then. No one should leave a child."
"Good answer, Max. You just might get lucky tonight."
"Lucky how?" Suze asked her mother.
"Never you mind," instructed her mother.
"Lucky with a scratch game?" Suze suggested.
"Sure. Let's go with that," Megan agreed.
In the distance was heard, "SQUEEEE!"
A deeper voice started, "SQUE… Dammit!"
-oo00oo-
Location: Uber and Leet's hidden base. 9:11am, Saturday, February 19th, 2011.
H&T were micro-muscular-miniatures of their impressive selves when they showed up on Uber's shoulders.
"Hiya, Uber," H said.
"Whatcha' doing?" T followed up after popping into existence on Uber's other shoulder.
"Hey, guys," Uber returned while spinning the longstaff expertly in his hands. "Just doing some exercises with a big stick. Never know when you might need it."
"Excellent idea," H approved.
"Yeah. You might need to beat the women off with a stick if they smother you, right?" T added. "Speaking of women, where are all of them? I thought we, and by that I mean you, agreed you were going to get laid."
"Yeah," Uber hedged. "That didn't work out so good."
"Why the hell not? Didn't you try any of the lines we gave you?" T was confused.
"Uh," Uber hedged again.
"You didn't use them?!" T was not about to let him get away with not answering.
"Uh… not really. I mean, sure I wanted to go up to a hot chick and tell her I had a nine-inch pleasure rod, but when I was about to do that… the shyness of when I'm out of costume came back. I mean, when I'm Uber, I'm cool. But when I'm not Uber? Forget it. I'm just a nobody like I was in high school."
H rubbed his chin in thought, then said, "What you need is a dose of confidence."
"No kidding," Uber replied, shattering the imaginary opponent's nose with the staff.
"What H means to say is: get Leet to create a weapon that shoots a dose of confidence at you," T clarified.
Uber stopped his incessant whacking of the imaginary opponents and looked at H and T. "Guys? You've seen what he makes, right? Those things tend to blow up more often than not."
"Of course we've seen what he makes. Why do you think we're here? You have what he needs to remember how Tinkertech actually works."
"Guys, you know I'm into girls, right? Not dudes."
T waved the comment away. "Oh, ha-ha, big guy. Just roll up your sleeves and get ready."
"Oh, Uber, your face is priceless," H laughed. "What T mean to say is: roll up your sleeves and get ready to do some work. Leet's ability is based off a cosmic shard which is misaligned in his noggin. That means you need to nudge it back in place."
"And how am I supposed to do that?" Uber queried, unsure what a cosmic shard was.
"Drunken Monkey combined with Pilates," T stated.
"That's all?"
"Nope. You're going to need a rock as well. Not too big. About 10cm round rock at about 85 grams. Cupped in your hand," H instructed.
"Then it's kick, stretch, and kick again. Directly above left ear tip about 5cm," T followed up.
"And this will fix his cosmic shard?"
H looked at T and then back to Uber. "Yeah. Sure. Let's go with that."
"Okay, say I do kick, stretch, and kick again. What's the rock for?"
"It's your alibi," H pointed out. "Say a rock fell and hit him when he wakes. Show him the rock and you're golden."
"Hmm. Okay. Sounds plausible. One problem. How am I going to get him to let me do that?" Uber asked while warming up to the whole idea.
"Honestly. Have you never heard of porn? Surprise him with a Bouncing Boob issue. There's a few magazines down at the local store as we speak," T said with some impatience.
-oo00oo-
Location: Johnson's Groceries & More, 7th Ave and 3rd Street. 10:11am, Saturday, February 19th, 2011.
A morose Leet entered Johnson's store, which ironically was owned by MacGruber MacGyver since Estelle Johnson died a decade earlier. Leet was morose, as usual, due to his lack of having anything meaningful in either: 1) a job that paid him a boatload of money, and 2) a relationship where he could get laid like his guardian angels suggested.
His bro took off an hour ago on an errand and Leet, ever the practical one he reminded himself, had left their hidden lair sans costume, and instead dressed as his usual pre-cape days. It was good that he was still skinny as his clothes still fit and he didn't have money to replace them with. Guess lack of eating would do that. Damn people not buying their online crap.
Leet grabbed a tiny buggy on three (not four any longer) wheels and headed down the aisle that had the least smell of spoiled cheese. Oddly enough, it was the deli aisle and contained fresh meats, fresh breads, and cheese.
Leet quickly noticed that prices had risen by a dime on most items. Unfortunately, the deli aisle was populated by a couple old geezers who appeared to be arguing over the merits of purchasing a can of corn that was now ten cents more.
Leet groaned inwardly as the two blocked the aisle. Deli case and cold shelf on one side, and cans on metal shelves on the other. Two old guys. Tall geezer had long thinning white hair that surrounded an oval face and a large nose. Blue eyes were mostly hidden by thick glasses and bushy white eyebrows. When he spoke to the other man, Leet saw tall geezer's yellowish, crooked teeth under a white, bushy moustache.
The second old geezer was a bit shorter than Leet, had next to no hair, no facial hair to hide behind other than a white goatee, and didn't have yellowish, crooked teeth. Instead he had blazing white teeth which Leet knew instantly were dentures. Jeez. Leet just wanted to get by them, get some cans of beans for his and Uber's dinner, and check out.
Leet ignored the two men in their slacks and button-up shirts that were new about three decades earlier, and inspected cans on the shelf if only to further ignore the two men. He couldn't help, however, hearing them since they didn't have a filter to know they were talking loud. As in, really loud.
Tall geezer looked at the can of corn in his hand and loudly said to his friend, "Why in my day, a can of corn existed in tin, not this piece of crap."
Shorter geezer replied, "It's not a piece of crap! It's just a mixture of zinc and aluminum."
"It's the damn coefficient of the metal that's what I'm talking about," snarled tall geezer.
"Ah, g'wan. It's got bells on it already. Next thing you're gonna tell me is that all tinkertech is the same," shorter geezer waved his hand in frustration.
Wait. What?
"Not at all. With the temperature ratios of where Tinkers work and the metals within an environmental geosphere that contains… cool it. Some snot-nosed kid is listening in. Just ramble until he goes away."
"Roger," replied shorter geezer. "Why in my day, clothes were fashionable! Disco rules!"
"Very funny, guys. What's going on?" Leet said as he invaded their personal space.
"Get lost, sonny, before I fry what brain cells you still have left," wheezed out tall geezer as he pulled out a pen with a clicker on it. The pen itself might have worked, but Leet was pretty sure the power diodes connected to the clicker was not something he wanted to experience.
"You guys are tinkers?!" Leet was amazed.
Both old guys put fingers to their lips and shorter geezer ordered, "Shhh! Jeez! You want us picked up by a gang?! Shut up already."
"But I'm a tinker too," Leet pressed, although in a quieter voice.
"Yeah, sure. Name one thing you've invented," suggested the smaller geezer.
"I created the Receiptinator," Leet stated of his more recent public invention.
Short guy nodded and said, "I heard of that. Didn't that suck up every loose receipt from a 500-meter radius, tie them together, and turn it into toilet paper which was then used to wrap around trees?"
"Yes," Leet smiled, happy for the recognition.
"Lame-o," said tall geezer with no talent.
"It's not lame," Leet replied.
"You're Leet since you made that fun-gun. What happened to it?" tall guy wanted to know.
Leet deflated. "…it blew up."
"Hah!" chortled the smaller geezer tinker. "Yep. You're Leet. You shoulda recalibrated the power feeds to resonate out the feedback. Anyway, later! Let's get out of here, Mel."
They were leaving already? "Oh, c'mon. I'm not that bad!"
"Ah for the luva… What do you want, kid?" Mel the older geezer with no talent asked.
"I need some help. I'm tired of things blowing up on me," Leet said with as much sincerity as he could muster, which was quite a lot since he was sincere in not having his devices blow up on him any longer. Or more importantly, not blow up in his face.
-oo00oo-
Location: Uber and Leet's hidden base. 11:11am, Saturday, February 19th, 2011.
H&T popped into existence on Leet's shoulders, and nearly fell off since he was slumped forward, both elbows on the knees, and one hand holding his forehead from falling and crashing into the ground.
"What the?" T began, and then noticed Leet looked as he had been… crying. Good thing it wasn't baseball season, T knew.
H looked at T and T looked back at H, both wearing mini-versions of Leet's face and costume.
"Dude," H said softly. "What's wrong?"
Leet looked up at H, his eyes red-rimmed. He took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and said, "I met some people today."
"Whoa, dude! What's her name?" H smiled for the tinker.
"Esmeralda."
"Is she pretty?" T asked in Leet's voice, as if his voice would sound if he sucked down helium. And since he had done that, yes, he knew what that voice sounded like.
"How should I know? She's like a hundred years old!" Leet ground out in a strained voice.
"Dude, I know you haven't scored with a woman in like, ever. But going after a woman a century old? I think you can set your sights to a younger woman. Got for someone in her 70's," H suggested.
"Maybe 60's," T added.
"Maybe even bag yourself a cougar," H hoped.
Leet shook his head. "Yeah, yeah. Look, guys. Earlier today I met Esmerelda la Gypsy, Jethro Bodine, Alice Hyatt, Elly-May Clampett, Mel Sharples, Dwayne Schnider, and Marion Ross."
"Wow. Aren't you the kinky one," H nudged Leet with a micro-elbow.
"Ha, ha. No, this group I met. It's not sex, okay? They are all tinkers."
"There's more tinkers in Brockton Bay?" That was news to T.
"Hell yeah. They are all tinkers who can recall everything. And I mean, everything. How to make a remote. How the internet works. How to program a VCR. How to build a Von-Q Disposer to get rid of errant asteroids. Anything."
"Wow. So what have they built?" That was good news to T.
"Nothing," Leet said. "They have the smarts but no dexterity, strength, or resources to build anything. They live in an old folks' home. And before you ask, I don't think they were tinkers before going to the home. So make sure I never go to one, okay?"
"We can do that," H grinned in agreement.
"But getting back to the tinkers you met," T focused them back on course. "What happened?"
"Well, I offered to help them to get their tinkering done if they help me first."
"And by help," H began. "You mean help you stop having your inventions blow up."
"Yeah," Leet nodded in agreement, his expression turning pained.
"Sounds good. So what's with the frowny face?" T inquired.
Leet took in another breath and let it out slowly. "The Elder Brigade gave me a trial run to build one thing to see how well I do."
"…okay? And?" H prompted.
"And the first… sob," he began. "First thing I have to build is: a self-cleaning catheter."
"Whoa! Invasive!" T sounded alarmed.
Leet sobbed some more and replied, "Yes! And they gave me strict test protocols. I am the subject of those. Oh god! What can I do? I need to get my tinkertech working once and for all."
"Well, you know…" H began conspiratoriously.
"We overheard a plan of Uber to help you with your tinker problem," T winked at the young tinker.
"Yeah?" Leet looked for any lifeline.
"It involves a porn magazine," T winked at the tinker.
"I'm liking this more and more," Leet's future was looking up.
Meanwhile, as the future sounded more promising to Leet, Uber was happy that a plan was in place to fix his pal's shard, whatever that was. He had spent a few hours perusing a certain magazine shelf that only adults could view and was now ready to fix Leet's problems as only he could. Wait. That came out wrong, he thought. Ah! He was ready to totally fix his pal's… no, wait. Still wrong. Ah! He was ready to kick someone in the head! That was better.
"Yo, bro!" Uber grinned as he came in the door to their super cool hidden lair which was not a basement apartment no matter what others might say.
Leet turned around from his sitting position on the couch. Uber was oblivious to H&T on Leet's shoulders.
"Dude! Read this! And turn around while I stretch," Uber handed him a magazine in a brown bag.
"You got it, bro!" Leet opened the bag and exclaimed, "Whoa! Bouncing Boobs! I love that magazine!"
WHACK!
-oo00oo-
Author comments:
As usual, this story arc has a mind of its own and has grown bigger yet again.
I do have an idea of how this story will end. Really. I promise.
Leaving reviews does get me motivated to write more. Just saying…