Chapter Seven

Time. It's a curious concept. We mark the rotation of our planet by purely arbitrary notions of time. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Days, Weeks, Years. We limit ourselves to this passing of 'time' by choice, slaves to the unending, relentless ticking of clocks. When the rotation of the Earth is in the right position, at just the right angle, we know it is time to awaken from our slumber. Likewise, when the reverse is true, we know to close our eyes and dream.

There are occasions, however, when we refuse to acquiesce to our ever-marching task-master. In times of shock, or fear, of anger, time seems to slow. This, of course, is ridiculous; time can never slow down, or speed up. Rather, our perceptions as human beings are altered, to a state where we throw off the shackles of oppression, where we, for a moment, become the masters of our own time. Then Time itself, the cruel mistress it is, grabs back onto us, latches us back onto its' meaningless parade. It's been said that those of us who possess the gift of Superpowers can throw off these shackles at will, moving at a speed greater than Time would allow us. Such a feat, however, would only be capable of the Gods, for no mere mortal, powerful as they may be, can ever hope to best Time.

There are few places where Time truly has no meaning. The Pocket D club, for example, is built around a dimensional shift where Time is no longer our enemy. It isn't even in the same place. The spectral remains of the great, sadly deceased War Witch is evidence enough of that. Another of these places is in the medical facilities of the disbanded and forgotten Supergroup, known as The Chiaroscuro. In there, three individuals, Human, Superhuman, and Artificial Intelligence listen, as their fourth companion wraps her damaged hand, takes a breath, and, defeating Time in a way known and practiced by millions, remembers the past, and begins to tell her tale.

Being in a coma was a strange sensation for her. Not quite awake, yet not quite asleep. She was aware of nothing so much as the blackness that enveloped her. She heard voices talking to her, and about her, but they were distant, muffled. A persistent beeping noise followed her throughout the blackness, faint as it was.

She floated in that black space in her mind for, what was, to her, an indeterminable amount of time, alone; just herself, and her memories.

Slowly…painfully so…the world began to brighten, and she was aware of a pressure on her back, one she could not get away from. The pressure was slight, and vaguely comforting, so she soon stopped trying. Eventually, the world brightened enough, and she realised that she was in a hospital. The pressure on her back was her bed, the beeping her EKG, and those muffled voices, although still muffled, were her doctors.

Doctors. Cara panicked. Her grandfather was a doctor, but the poor man had lost his sight, as well as his wife and son…her grandmother and father, in the Rikti war. What if he thought she, herself, had died in the line of duty? She heard the beeping accelerate, and felt a slight pressure on her hand, as someone took it, and squeezed it gently.

"Cara?"

She'd recognise that voice anywhere. That was the voice behind many, many hours of ice cream, bicycle lessons…the sometimes stern voice asking why she felt the need to set fire to the garage, or caught her skipping out of school, because the bullies called her 'Unsightly Cara', who taught her that true beauty comes from within, not from bone structure, or skin quality.

"Grandpa?" She tried to croak out.

"It's me, Cara." That pressure on her hand squeezed tighter. "You're in the Chiron centre. You'll be okay."

"Can't…can't see."

"Yes, we had to wrap up your face. It was badly damaged, but the doctors did a good job."

"Damaged?" Cara squeaked.

"Shh, my Angel." Her grandfather murmured to her. "You're fine. You're okay. You're safe."

She heard footsteps shuffle in from behind her grandfather's voice.

"She's awake?"

"Yes, she is. However, might I remind you of how ridiculous you're being?"

"It's important to get this done, Doctor."

"Can't you at least wait?"

"No."

The footsteps came closer.

"Detective Wilks, I'm Chief of Police Benson. I have a few questions for you."

Cara straightened up in the bed, trying to ignore her aching muscles telling her to do otherwise.

"Yes, sir."

There was a brief pause, as Benson, no doubt, flicked through a notebook.

"Three weeks ago yesterday, you went, unaided, into a warehouse, correct?"

"Yes."

"Your partner didn't go with you?"

"Correct."

"You were found, an hour later, unconscious, outside a large vat, covered in green industrial waste."

"I suppose…"

Benson sighed. "Detective Wilks…your partner has gone missing. More troubling than that is…well…"

Cara frowned. "What, sir?"

"We have to suspend you from the police force indefinitely."

Cara was stunned. "Why?"

"Because that waste…mutated you. Changed you. And, since no person can serve on the police force with Superpowers…"

"What?" Cara sat up in the bed rigidly. "What do you mean, 'powers'? I'm no Cape."

"Cara," She heard her grandfather say. "Please, calm down."

"But…I don't…I can't…"

"Detective Wilks, your DNA has been ran through the Emmett-Bridger test, and has shown you to be in possession of heightened reflexes, flight capability, as well as Class Three strength."

"Class Three?" Cara shook her head. "No way can I lift three tons."

Benson shrugged, before realising that neither occupant of the room could see him make the gesture. "The Emmett-Bridger test has never been wrong before. Look, Wilks, I know this is hard on you, but I'm sorry. I wish we could keep you on, but the rules are rules."

Sarriss drifted off from her story, and stared into space.

Susan leaned forward in her chair, as Jason looked on from his vantage point, leaning against the doorway, watching Sue, as she was eager to learn more.

"What happened next?"

"Well, I had the bandages removed, and then…

"Hang on." Jason interrupted. Sarriss stared at Tucker. "You mean to tell me that you're Wilks' grand-daughter? "

"Paternal grand-daughter, yes."

"You look nothing alike."

Sarriss sighed. "Mr Tucker, as I've just told you, I underwent reconstructive surgery. I look nothing like I used to."

SAMI cackled from his monitor. "She's got ya there, Big Man."

Jason wheeled round to glare at the Avatar. "I'm still not speaking to you. Traitor."

"Well, she has a point. Hang on…" Sam ducked down from the screen, and came up holding two photographs. Jason leant down, and blinked. The photograph on the left of the screen was, in actuality, the photo from her police file before the accident.

'Wilks, Cara' had a square, lantern-jawed face, a deep brow, thin lips, and a nose which had been broken and badly set many times. By contrast, 'Groundwalker, Sarriss', both in the photo on the right, and in person, had an angled face, a slender nose, thick, full lips, and a high forehead, set off by bangs. The only real similarities were the eyes, which sparkled his good humour in both photographs.

"The doctors did good work." He grunted.

"Yeah, they did." Sarriss nodded. "My face before was scarred, mutilated, and partially melted away."

Jason touched the left side of his face with his hand. "I know what that's like."

Sarriss said nothing; she just nodded once, in acknowledgement.

"When the bandages were taken off me, I didn't really say anything. I was in shock, though. Me, this skinny little tomboy, was now…well…pretty. I know my parents never saw me as unattractive, but the boys certainly did. It was…overwhelming. One day, shortly after I got out of hospital, I caught my reflection in the mirror, and I remember thinking to myself, 'How can this happen? How am I suddenly so beautiful? How…"

"…About a drink, gorgeous!" The man blocking Cara's path chuckled.

"No, thank you." She tried to move aside, but the man and his friends blocked her again, against a wall.

"Nah, see…" The man slurred slightly, already slightly inebriated. "You's a fine lookin' woman. An' I've had a good day, so why not make it an' even better one?"

"I don't think so. I'm a cop, so back off."

"A cop? I ain't never seen a cop as pretty as you, missy. Lessee your ID, then."

Cara's hand drifted towards her back pocket, where she kept her Police ID and badge, then clenched a fist when she realised there wouldn't be one there.

Not anymore.

"I'm…undercover."

"Suuure, ya are." The man grinned, and Cara recoiled from the smell of beer.

"Look, I mean it. Go away, or there's going to be trouble."

The man looked at his friends, and, as if on cue, they all laughed at the same time. "I like some trouble, girl." The first man leered.

Cara shrugged. "Have it your way."

The man took this as an invitation, and leaned down to give Cara a sloppy kiss. Cara, on the other hand, shot out her hand and latched it onto the man's neck, lifting him up into the air effortlessly. Throwing him back against one of his friends, she cocked her hands up into fists, and grinned evilly at the remaining would-be suitors.

"Who's next?"

"Shit…she's a Cape!" One of them stammered, and they ran, not even stopping to help their fallen comrades, who were on the floor, moaning in pain.

As they vanished into the darkness, a blue and red flashing light caught Cara's eye.

"Oh, hell." She walked towards it, and watched as it separated into two disembodied lights, then into the top of a Police Drone, which stopped in front of her, and beeped.

Cara stood perfectly still, and waited as the Drone scanned her, and checking its' files for her personality matrix.

"Detective Cara Wilks", It buzzed. "You are in violation of Superpowered Being statute 1-1A, Paragraphs B – Q. You must make your way to register yourself as a Superpowered Being, or face the consequences."

"Yeah, yeah. I was on my way, but I got harassed by some guys."

"You must make your way to register yourself as a Superpowered Being, or face the consequences."

"You're real chatty today, aren't you?"

The drone buzzed again. "You must make your way…"

"To register yourself as a Superpowered Being," Cara completed alongside the drone, "Or face the consequences." She sighed. "I'm going to City Hall now."

"Bzzzzt. Have a nice day."

The drone's small LCD screen displayed a picture of a smiley face, and it flew off.

When Cara got to City Hall, and spoke with the Registrar, he tapped a few buttons on his keyboard, and squinted at the screen.

"Okay. Wilks, Cara. Occupation?"

Cara raised an eyebrow. "Police Detective. Currently suspended."

"What for?"

"Having super powers." She scowled.

The Registrar chuckled.

"I'm glad to see you find my life so funny!" Cara shot at the man, crossing her arms over.

In the silence that ensued, Cara barely registered the clicking of high heels behind her, as a woman's voice spoke quietly. "He's…contact…Tucker…Foundation…..money…"

The Registrar coughed, and brought Cara's attention back onto him.

"Powers?"

Cara ran through everything she had learned from the Emmett-Bridger test, and the Registrar nodded.

"Name?"

"Excuse me?"

The Registrar tried to smother another chuckle, and was only partially successful.

"Your Superhero name, dear."

"I…thought I'd be Cara Wilks."

"Oh, that would never do. Do you think Statesman's real name is Statesman? That Manticore signs his cheques that way? And, do you think that the Back Alley Brawler has monogrammed towels that say 'BAB'?"

"Good point."

"Well, thank you."

Cara eyed the man. "What would you suggest?"

"Oh…well, I've been here many years, and handled a lot of Superhero Registrations. A lot of the time, the Hero doesn't know what he….or she," He amended, "Will call themselves. Maybe a name from your past, that has resonance? Or perhaps a name that speaks to your powers and skills?"

Cara thought back. Many, many years ago, she had written a series of fictional stories with a friend of hers….good old Borlath. Although Borlath was long gone, the stories still remained a happy memory. The female lead, if she could remember correctly, was called…

"And that's how I became Sarriss Groundwalker."

"Good story." Jason nodded. "What ever happened to Anthony Mitchell?"

"I have no idea. He went away on that plane, and never came back. At least, as far as I know."

"And your partner?"

Sarriss shrugged. "I never saw, or heard, from him again. Just as well, if I ever run into Regetti again…"

Sarriss trailed off, as she noticed the looks Jason and SAMI exchanged.

"What?"

"Oh, it's probably nothing." Jason said, too quickly, Sam nodding in complete agreement.

"Probably?" Sarriss arched an eyebrow.

Jason sighed. "Sam, play back the audio we got from the Mayor's office."

There was a moments' silence, and Sarriss began to think this was all a sick joke. However, the silence was quickly gone, with a low, gruff voice that she recognised.

"And if not?"

There was a low, dangerous chuckle, which made Sarriss' blood turn cold.

"Tucker's always thought of himself as someone who'll right wrongs. Put her in danger. The Fire Guardian will follow."

"And if he doesn't show up?"

"Kill her anyway, Regetti. She's getting too close for comfort."

"Regetti…" Susan hissed softly, not taking her eyes off her friend, who seemed petrified. As well she should, Susan mused. 'If I found out that the man I trusted with my life set me up to kill me…'

"That….that voice." Sarriss seemed stunned.

"We know, it must be hard for you to hear Regetti again…"

"NO!" Sarriss shouted, cutting off Jason. "The other voice. Let me hear it again!"

Sam blinked. "Uhh…"

Jason nodded to him, however, and SAMI dutifully replayed the message.

"Kill her anyway, Regetti. She's getting too close for comfort."

"I know that voice." Sarriss stammered. "Play it again."

"But…"

"Do it!" She screamed.

"Kill her anyway, Regetti. She's getting too close for comfort."

"Again."

"Kill her anyway, Regetti. She's getting too close for comfort."

"Loop it!" Sarriss snarled at the monitor. SAMI's image edged away, but kept playing the track.

"Kill her anyway, Regetti. She's getting…"

"I don't….I can't…no."

"What?"

"Kill her anyway…"

"It's not possible."

"Too close…"

"What isn't?"

Jason kneeled down in front of Sarriss, her eyes moistening with tears. "Sarriss….Cara. Tell us. What is it?"

"…Regetti. She's getting too…"

"That voice. It's Anthony Mitchell's."

"No." Susan tried to calm her friend down. "It's the Mayor's. Mayor Anson. You're confused."

Sarriss turned to her friend, and glared. "Do you know how many times I hear that voice? In my sleep? When I'm alone? Whispering to me, my own doubts? I'm telling you, you can change a face, but not a voice. That man…the Mayor…is Anthony Mitchell."

"Kill her anyway, Regetti. She's getting too close for comfort."