Chapter 3

I was a little surprised to find that even in the middle of an active gang war, we did not spend all our time in the streets fighting. Laundry still needed doing, meals needed to be cooked, and apparently the newest addition to the Iron Legion game franchise, Men of Iron, needed to be purchased on the day it hit the store.

"Come ooonnn!" Newter whined.

"Can't you go by yourself?" I asked, reasonably I thought.

"And be the creepy mall stalker?" he replied holding his clawed hand to his chest in overacted offense. "I hate going by myself," he said, somewhat more seriously.

"People stare?"

"Of course, people stare. People always stare. That's no big deal. It can even be part of the fun. Freaking the mundanes and all that." he dismissed. "It's just no fun to do it alone. Newts are social critters. We need our profusion."

"Profusion?"

"Yeah, it's what you call a bunch of newts – a profusion. I looked it up." He waggled his non-existent eyebrows. "A newt alone may suffer and die, but the profusion lives on! That's why I can't go to the mall by myself. You gotta come with me."

"I don't know …" I demurred.

"Crys," Melanie said. She knew my real name, but I had asked it to be kept from the others. She was not happy about it, but understood I was concerned about my dad. "You don't want to spend your life either hiding or fighting. That's a quick path to losing yourself. I'm not going to force you, but this is a good opportunity to begin building a post-change life outside of missions."

"Yes, we're different," Newter said. "But we can choose to own it. Flaunt it even. We're weird and we're here, get used to it!" He lowered his head, looking up at me through his electric- blue bangs and batted his oversized sky-blue eyes. "Pleeease?"

"Fine." I was really scared. Not so much that someone would recognize me. My shell looked as much like Taylor Hebert as Picasso's portraits looked like his models. I just did not want to deal with the fear and mockery I was sure to find. I could easily picture the contemptuous glares I had been subjected to so often at Winslow combined with the pointing and screaming and running that had been people's reactions when I was hiding on the streets.

But they were right. I was starting to go a little stir-crazy spending all my time in the club and the garage. The fact I did not sleep actually made it worse. More time by myself. Looking forward to combat because it got me out of the house was more than a little crazy.

It came down to whether I was going to allow other people's actions and reactions to dictate how I would live my life. And that was what this was, strange is it seemed since my change. This was my life. Was I going to at least try to live it or was I going to hide until I died? "I'll go with you."

"Great!" Newter said, spinning in place like a top. He stopped and gave me a critical look. "Throw on some sweats. We can pick you up a couple of cute outfits while we're there. Every girl's got to have something nice."

"Don't push her," Melanie interjected, giving Newter a medium strength glare. He held both hands up in surrender.

She turned to me. "Just take it easy. Remember you're doing nothing wrong. You have every right to be in the mall as long as you are careful not to break things or hurt anyone. With that in mind, you might try one of your lighter shells. Steel or concrete might be unwieldy in that environment.

"I've got a fiberglass one I've been working on," I replied. Melonie had procured a 5000-gallon fiberglass water tank that I had been using for material to create a lighter, more realistic looking shell. It was still green and noticeably un-human, but it could fit in a normal car and did not provide an awkward level of strength. It was still tougher that a normal human would be, but almost everything was.

"Is it cracking or splintering when you move?" she asked. "Fiberglass leaves nasty splinters."

"No, its like concrete or stone. It shouldn't be flexible enough to allow me to move, but it is."

"Newter's right," Melanie added. "Wear something you can don't mind losing if you need to teleport or create a new shell. But you do deserve some nice clothes. If you find an outfit you like you might buy a few spares in a size or two up or down to better fit other shells. Do you have your card?"

She had given me a debit card tied to an account in my name where my pay was automatically deposited. "I've got it."

Forty minutes later we were walking into the food court entrance of the Hillside Mall, Newter alternating between standing upright and scurrying on all fours. He wore fingerless gloves and custom sandals that allowed his toes to touch the ground. His tail frequently peeked out from under his black trench coat.

While the crowd was lighter than normal, as many people were worried about the ongoing gang war, there were still hundreds of people in view. The bombings had lessened in frequency, but Bakuda still detonated several each day. The overstressed PRT and BBPD were limited to patrolling the wealthier sections of town, which happened to include the Mall.

Between the flamboyantly orange boy and my toy-soldier-colored semi-face peering out from under my hood, people were staring and pointing, just like I had feared.

"Ignore them. You hungry? As my old grandpappy used to say – life's uncertain; eat desert first. And I smell Sin-a-bun, the ultimate in mall deserts." Newter made a show of sniffing the air until he pointed out the pastry stand with his tail.

"I thought you didn't remember your family?" I asked, then put my hand over my mouth at how insensitive that was.

"Given how cool as I am, my grandpap must have been twice a cool, whether I remember him or not." The orange boy smirked.

After he had ordered his gooey sugar-coated confection and we had taken a table he continued more seriously.

"One of the advantages of starting over with a clean slate," he said looking at me, his perpetually smiling face somber for once, almost contemplative. "If you own it, you can decide that your past was whatever you want it to have been. You get to, really have to, invent yourself."

"Have to?" I asked.

"Yeah, because if you don't then other people will. You're leaving it up to them. I say fuck them. I'm my own man."

"And you invented yourself as a playboy, drug pusher?" I asked. I wanted to like the guy. He was fun in a way I had not had in my life since before high school. Not that I hung out with playboy drug pushers then, but Newt made me laugh like I had not since before Emma turned on me. But why did he choose to be what he was.

He smiled widely, wider than a human could. "Ahhh I ain't that bad. I'm not a pusher. I supply a safe, non-addictive high in a controlled environment and only to a select clientele that come looking for me."

He looked to the side where a table full of pretty high school girls dressed to impress sat. I glanced at them. They saw him and started giggling. I felt like I was back at Winslow. He waved to them then turned back to me and lowered his voice.

"I hate to admit this, I'm not much of a playboy either. You do realize that all my fluids are hallucinogenic? If I so much as kiss a girl, she's tripping the life fantastic. You know how hot the club gets most nights? I get a little sweaty, which means I can't even shake a girl's hand. No touch or no consciousness. Not much for a guy's love life, unless he likes the dead fish experience. Which ain't my cup of tea."

"So why do you do it?" I asked.

"I know you were on the streets for a while. I was too. I was actually hanging out in the sewers because, you know, amphibian. So that sucked until Faultline picked me up."

"Yeah, I'll bet." Maybe I did not have it that bad. And I remembered my life before the change.

"That's point one. Point two is that I'm in one of the, if not the most dangerous jobs in the world. I'm a cape. A mercenary cape, which means I'm paid to fight people that no one else wants to fight for free. And, unlike the Protectorate or Reach, we don't have a government or corporation backing us. So, chances are I'll be dead in a year, maybe two. Might as well enjoy the time while I've got it."

"Well, that's depressing." I replied. I had heard something about cape fatality figures in World Studies class, but it was played way down according to Greg, the class cape geek.

"Not if you don't let it get you down. Carpe diem. Given we fought people like Myrddin and Chevalier in the past and are now playing tag with Oni Lee and fucking Lung I'd say it is just realistic to realize the play might not go on. No one is guaranteed a long run."

"So, gather ye rosebuds while ye may?"

"Something like that," Newter agreed.

After he finished his sticky bun and picked up a sweet fruit concoction in a cup, we wandered towards the game store. Newter helpfully pointed out outfits he thought would look good on me in the various shop windows. None of them were anything like what I would have worn before the change. They looked more like the club wear his customers often dressed in.

"No, I am not wearing that. I'd look ridiculous." I said for the eighth time.

"It looks good on the mannequin. Maybe you could take one of them over as a new shell? Then you'd know the dress would fit just right," he suggested in jest.

I paused to give the idea some thought. As far as I knew, all my shells were solid all the way through. Mannequins were usually hollow, and normally if I created a shell out of a hollow mass, like the water tank, it compresses the material until it formed a solid body. Sometimes that body was smaller than my normal one, if there was not enough matter to build a full-sized form. Fifty pounds, the minimum I could form a shell out of, of a dense material like steel gave me a body about a foot tall.

But there were solid human-shaped dolls and dummies that I might be able to take over with minimal reforming. I would have to consider that. Find something that someone else had made look almost human and take it as a shell. The thought of as least looking almost human again almost took my breath away.

"Crys?" Newter sounded concerned. I turned to him and started to explain what I was thinking.

Then I saw Emma Barnes over his shoulder. She was with her mother and older sister. They, like many in the area, were looking at us. I instinctively pulled my hoodie lower. I felt a surge of anger run though me and remembered how I had almost killed her.

Not long after I finally came to grips with the reality that I was not going to be turning back into my real form, that my original body was gone, I had a sudden urge to make the ones responsible for this tragedy pay.

Madison. Sophia. Emma.

I had two choices. I could attack them at school where I would probably find all three at once. Or I could attack them individually at their homes. It was night, Friday I thought, and I was too enraged to wait for school to start in several days. I decided to take them out at their homes. The only problem was the only address I knew was Emma's.

Still, she was the instigator. The betrayer. She was the one that really mattered. She was the one that had once been my best friend.

Sometime later I stood on the street outside the Barnes house. It was all so familiar. I had spent so much time there over the years. We all had. My parents and her parents had been friends since before Emma and I had been born. It was almost like we were destined to be together. If one of us had been a boy, the parents would probably have been planning our wedding while we were still in diapers.

My mother's death had eventually cut the tie between Dad and the Barnes. I still have no idea what had turned Emma against me.

There she was, sitting with her loving family. I could not sit with mine. I probably never would again. And it was her fault. She put me in the locker. She made me a monster.

Now I would make her pay.

I stepped forward. I could see Emma step away from her family, texting on her phone. All I had to do was jump through that window and stomp her to little bloody chunks. None of her family could stop me. As soon as I left her house, I would be able to dive back into the street and be gone long before anyone could do anything.

But …

Then she would be dead, and not able to feel anything ever again. While Mrs. Barnes, who never did anything to hurt me, who loved my mother, and took care of me after Mom died and Dad went blank, would be the one to feel the pain of losing a loved one. Mrs. Barnes did not deserve that.

And I would become the monster. I looked like one and people thought I was one. But killing Emma, crossing that line, would make me the monster I did not want to be.

But she killed me. She made it so Taylor Hebert is gone, never to come back. Wouldn't it be justice? An eye for an eye?

Monsters killed. Villains killed. Heroes only killed if they had to. I might never be a hero now. But I did not want to be a villain, or worse, a monster.

So, I dove back into the street and returned to hiding.

Not a monster. Just looking like one.

"Crys? Are you alright?" Newter said, laying a hand on my sleeve.

"Yeah," I said, turning from the Barnes. "Can we keep moving?"

I could not help glancing at them again. Newter followed my eyeline.

"Who are they?"

I hesitated. I really did not want to talk about it. I had told people before, but they could never, or would neve, help me. I decide one more in the know was not going to kill me.

"The one in the middle is an old enemy from high school and an even older friend from middle and elementary school. She made me trigger."

"What!" His voice was so loud it bounced off the walls and created a slight echo over the general hubbub of the shoppers.

"Quiet!" I hissed. I grabbed his arm and jerked him towards the game store. I wanted out of the mall as soon as possible.

"You remember her?" the orange boy asked quietly.

"Yeah, I remember." I admitted. I was not exactly keeping that a secret, but I had not talked about it with anyone but Melanie yet.

"Oh." He was silent until after we had purchased his game.

"Can we get out of here now?" I asked. I did not want to bump into the Barnes again.

"There's one more thing I wanted to see," He replied. "We can head out after that."

I huffed but followed him as he led me around the second floor of the mall. We had almost circled back to the food court when he pulled me towards the escalator. He opened the top of his juice and dribbled a little spit into it. He then stirred it with the straw while we rode the escalator down.

I noticed Emma and her family were about to get on at the bottom.

As I was turning my back to them Newter's tail started flailing about, almost hitting me. Everyone moved back a couple of steps, all eyes on waving appendage. I was probably the only person that noticed him quickly touch his straw to the rail on the opposite side.

When we got off the escalator, Emma almost jumped on the upwards side. She grabbed right where Newter had daubed the rubber with his straw. He winked at me as he watched the girl, her mother, and sister ride up.

"Now we should get out of here," he said.

"What did you do?" I asked.

"She hurt you somehow, right?" he replied.

"Yeah. So?"

"So, I left her a little present. One she's gonna have trouble explaining to her mother."

Realizing she had touched his spit I knew Emma was in for a trip. "Won't she just pass out. That can probably be explained as fainting or something."

"Nope," he popped his 'p'. "It was diluted enough that she should stay conscious, but she'll be higher than an airplane on peyote. It'll last an hour, maybe two. That's what she'll have to explain."

"Wh…" I could not finish the question. I had no idea what to say. The Barnes, Emma included, were really anti-drug. If Mrs. Barnes found Emma tripping, she was going to freak out. Emma could end up in rehab or something.

"Thank me latter," he said, steering me towards the mall exit. "I think it would be best if the drug sweating cape were not in the area when she lights up."

"Yeah," I agreed.

Just as we were making our way through the food court towards the entrance, the doors opened, and two costumed figures strode through – Dauntless and Triumph.

The crowd stopped, stared, and pointed at them. It made me feel a little better that I was not the mob's sole target of rude interest. Several people whipped out their phones and started recoding. Various people had been taking Newter and my pictures during our time at the mall, a few even recoding our progress. But now everyone had a camera out as the two Protectorate heroes walked up to confront the two abominations.

"Newter, Effigy?" Dauntless spoke first addressing us.

"Who?" I asked. "My name's Chrysalis. I've never heard of Effigy."

"That's the name we've been using for the cape that's been tearing up the city streets and sidewalks, leaving all sorts of statues in the middle of roads and all over the place." Triumph barked. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused the city road crews?"

"Hey," Newter barked back, pitching his voice to be heard by the crowd. "She said she wasn't the cape you're looking for. I've never heard of this Effigy either."

The two capes stepped back. Newter was not large or intimidating, but if they had read up on him, they probably knew he could incapacitate with a touch. And they were standing inside his reach.

"Whoa!" Dauntless said, holding up his hands. They were empty, but his left arm carried his empowered shield, so he was not helpless. "No need for trouble. We just want to talk." He looked at the growing crowd then smiled at me. What I could see of his face under his helmet looked friendly enough. "Maybe somewhere a little quieter?"

"What's wrong with here?" Newter asked. "We've got nothing to hide. And this is a good opportunity for everyone to see our tax dollars at work."

"We need you to come to the Rig," Triumph said, taking a step towards me. Before I could react, Dauntless had one arm out blocking him.

"What my young colleague here means is that we would like to invite you to visit the Protectorate HQ where we can offer you power testing and assistance in learning to use your powers in a less destructive way." The shining hero almost glowed with helpful sincerity.

I knew the Protectorate was after me because, like Triumph had said, I had been tearing up streets and sidewalks every time I created a new shell and had left old shells littering the city. I could easily believe the road crews were having to work double time to clean up after me, filling in holes and moving statues that were blocking lanes. I had been a little crazy when I first changed and had not known what I was doing.

I knew better now.

I also knew putting myself in the hands of the PRT would likely end up with my original identity getting out and my dad being bothered by the government agents. That could make his life miserable, and I did not want that.

"I don't think so," I replied loudly. "I said I'm not this Effigy you're looking for. Aren't all of his statues made of stone or concrete? Isn't he covered in asphalt? That's what I've heard." I lowered my hoody and pulled up my sleeve. The muttering got louder, and more lenses were pointed at me.

"I know I'm not normal like you. But not all Case 53s are the same. This …" I said gently knocking the knuckles of my right hand against my left forearm. It clicked lightly. "… isn't stone or concrete or asphalt. Unless you have a warrant for me, not for some other Case 53, I don't want to go anywhere with you. I don't quite trust the good intentions of your young colleague."

"Hey!" Triumph shouted. "Just because we got your name wrong, doesn't mean you …"

"Got her name wrong!" Newter scoffed loudly. "So, we're all interchangeable to you, are we? Or maybe all Case 53s are guilty by default? That sounds a lot like anti-Case 53 bigotry. I might have expected that from the other big group of capes in town. But from our civil servants, that is unacceptable. We demand better!"

"You little …" Triumph started lunging towards Newter, who scurried on all fours up a pillar until he was over the heads of the heroes.

All eyes turned to him, and I almost dove into the concrete floor. But I did not want to desert him. I also did not want to confirm I was the cape they were looking for and leaving my fiberglass shell behind would certainly do so.

"Triumph," Dauntless barked. The younger hero turned around and walked to stand behind the older.

Slowly the man with the shield reached into his belt and pulled out a business card. He held it out to me. "I think there has been a lot of confusion and unnecessary agitation here today. Rather than letting things get any more out of hand when they certainly don't need to, we are going to leave. I ask you to consider what I said. This is a real offer to help, not a trick. Call us or come by. We'll talk and go from there. For now, you and your friend have a nice day."

With that Dauntless almost pulled Triumph out of the mall. The crowd milled around for a bit, hoping for more drama. Newter hammed it up for the cameras then came back to me.

"Well, that happened," he said.

"Yeah," I replied looking at the hero's card.

"You want to talk with them?" he asked.

"Nope." I failed to pop my 'p'. Stupid fiberglass lips.

"Then let's go home."

I just nodded. Home was a word I was having a lot of trouble with.