Side-Step SQ
Sherrel focused on the feeling. The vibrations that spread through her body from the ground. The feeling of the wheels spinning, and the force of the speed against her. She missed the feeling.
Stupid Trainwreck.
Skids gets caught and he thinks he runs the place.
He didn't even show up to help, even after getting all those parts and making her build so many stupid things.
Should have let her built an armored ATV or something. That would have worked better. Trying to fight Green Light Girl? Stupid. Why fight when you can outrun?
The vehicle jumped beneath her, and Sherrel lost her balance.
A hand reached out and caught her, righting her body before she fell over.
The PRT soldier shook his head and checked her jacket. She didn't like it. The way it enclosed her chest and trapped her arms.
"Okay?" One of the soldiers in front asked.
"Fine," the one in front of her said. "She insists on sitting with her legs pulled up. Every bump almost knocks her over."
Straight jackets are for crazy people.
She's not crazy.
She just has problems.
Everyone has problems.
"Better than Alabaster," the driver said. He sucked at driving, so Sherrel guessed he preferred talking. "That guy's freaky."
"Yeah, she's pretty quiet. Kind of funny wi-"
"Shut up. Shut up right there. I am not going to sensitivity training again because you needed to be 'oh so clever.'"
"Just be happy this one will be quiet," the passenger said. "Skidmark is gone. Whirlygig is off to juvie, and Mush is getting moved by teleporter. Only Merchant still free was Trainwreck and no one knows where he is."
The soldier across from her shook his head.
"I'm just saying, her cape name is-"
"Seriously," the driver said. "Shut it. It's bad enough that Dr. Asuno can't help herself. We already had our monthly lecture."
"You two are no fun."
"You know the story, Sanders," the driver said. "Stop being an asshole to her."
The story?
She didn't know what that meant.
The doctors asked lots of stupid questions. They threw around words like 'Stockholm' and 'addiction' and 'abuse.' They didn't know anything, so she didn't bother talking. Then they started saying a new word. 'Asylum.'
Pretty sure that's where crazy people went.
So they much not be very good doctors.
She wasn't crazy.
Just has problems.
The van shook again, and Sherrel glanced toward the front. She didn't see much. A doorway separated the front of the vehicle from the back. They left it open cause some doctor lady asked them to.
Low escape risk or something like that.
It's all Trainwrecks fault. He made her build all that stuff, and then he showed up with that brain lady. She had some neat tech, but creepy as fuck. Always babbling to herself, and being super stalker with kids in the neighborhood.
Drove around a pedobus that she wanted to be invisible. Super creepy.
That's crazy.
Should put her in the asylum.
Sherrel inhaled and sighed.
She missed Skids. Skids made the pain go away, and the itching. Maybe he caused the pain sometimes, but that was her own fault really.
"We got anything on construction?" The driver asked.
"Yeah. Ongoing expansion to the ninety-five. Nothing unplanned. About to cross over into New York though. I'll make the call, let them know we're entering the area."
The passenger pulled out his phone and started dialing.
Sherrel kept watch on the window as the traffic slowed. She didn't get a good look at any of the cars. Not from her seat. She started to rise but the soldier across from her put a hand on her shoulder.
"Stay seated," he said.
Sherrel frowned.
"Huh."
"What?"
The passenger drew a small sphere from his belt. One of those PRT foam grenades.
"Phone isn't working," he said.
The soldier across from her lifted his spray gun and rose up. He grabbed an overhead handle and turned toward the back doors. A heavy bar closed over them, and some tinker tech locks. Okay stuff, but if they really wanted the vehicle to be secure they should have put a cannon on it. Sherrel built something with cannons once and… what did she do with it again?
"The beacon working?"
"No. It's dead to."
"Trainwreck?"
"His ratings don't cover communications interference."
Trainwreck block phones? Nah. Too dumb for anything like that. Green Light Girl's stuff blocked phones but Sherrel was already locked up so, no. Skids got arrested and sent away. Mush and Whirls couldn't do it. Another jerk busting down the door to drag her out? How Skidmark did it.
Typical.
"Flip the sirens," the passenger said.
"Ain't going to do a whole lot in traffic this heavy." The driver reached for the switch.
"Better than-"
The van shook, and the wall threw Sherrel forward. She felt gravity shift, and looked up to find the floor of the vehicle above her. Then beneath her again. And above. And beneath.
The van rolled, the PRT soldiers bouncing back and forth. The van hit something and spun about, throwing Sherrel against the back doors hard. She gasped and slid to the ceiling. The PRT guys scrambled to their feet, the one with the foam gun turning the nozzle toward her while the driver got yanked through the window.
A machine?
Squealer saw arms and legs. No wheels. Good. Wheels didn't belong on arms or legs. That's stupid. Robots aren't cars.
The van shook, the floor bowing as a weight pressed down on it. The foam sprayer turned away from her, and then up as a burning ax head cut into the floor. The head pulled, yanking the metal open.
A single red eye peered inside.
The foam gun fired, and the passenger unbuckled himself and hit the ground. He reached for his grenade, and then vanished out of sight.
Sherrel crossed her legs and frowned.
The asylum sounded stupid.
Asylums were for crazy people, and she wasn't crazy.
Getting grabbed by some asshole to build stuff for them sounded pretty stupid too.
She wanted to build her own stuff. Not the stuff Skids or Trainwreck told her to build. Though that's kind of her fault. Skids was in charge. You do what the person in charge wants or you get hit. Simple stuff. She forgot sometimes when she got high.
The PRT guy with the foam gun turned on her again.
"Shit, sorry miss." He pulled a knife from his belt and turned it toward her. Sherrel's eyes widened. "Orders are orders."
What?
The foam above shattered and a hand reached down. It grabbed the man and pulled him up, bashing his body into the floor over and over again. He dropped the knife, and the foam gun left his grip. The hand kept bashing until the body went through the hole.
And Sherrel sat alone.
Again.
No Skids.
No Whirls.
No Mush.
No Trainwreck.
Just some lizard lady and Green Light Girl blowing up her stuff and making everything worse. And she didn't even have a needle this time to make the itching go away.
The ax head swung into the wall beside her and pulled the van open.
Sherrel turned and looked up at the machine.
Bigger than Green Light Girl's robot by a bit.
Shield on one arm, and an ax held in the opposite hand. Big metal box on the back. Cords ran from the back to the arms and legs. Sherrel didn't hear a motor or see any gears or hydraulics. Focusing on the cords she figured some kind of fluid? That would work better. Not as good as wheels though.
The eye stared at her.
"You're Squealer, aren't you?"
"Yeah. That's me. What you want?"
She turned her head slightly.
"Ain't you Leet?"
The robot knelt and the eye looked inside the van.
"Leet died with his friend," Totally Leet said. "I'm Frontal."
"Lame Name," Sherrel mumbled. "What you want?"
"Nothing," he said. "Thought these guys were coming after me."
"Nope."
The eye swung left and right again. Did he not believe her?
"Apparently. My bad. Tell the wardens I apologize when they wake up. If they wake up."
He rose up and the suit started to turn.
That's it? No grabbing her and dragging her off to make stuff? No ordering her around? No needles stabbed into her arms until she didn't mind anymore?
Sherrel pushed herself to her feet and stepped through the hole.
The van looked like someone put it in a trash compactor and stopped halfway through.
Lame vehicle anyway. Probably couldn't even go off-roading or phase through walls. No cannons either.
She followed him, ignoring the light of the cars on the hill above. Shadows moved back and forth, and some flashlights shined into the woods. She walked quickly to keep up, ignoring the calls of the onlookers.
"What are you doing?" Lame Name asked.
"Don't know."
"Can you do it somewhere else?"
"No."
He kept walking, picking up the pace. Sherrel did the same, her feet padding along in the flattened earth left by the feet.
Her eyes scanned the machine. Weeks since she got to tinker anything more than a pen or pencil. Didn't they have laws against being mean and punishing people more than they deserve? With her hands and arms bound up in a jacket she couldn't make anything, and they put the lock on her back so she didn't even know how to begin removing it.
Maybe if she asked?
"Why would they be after you?" She asked.
"What?"
"Why would they be after you? If you're so not Leet." He's totally Leet.
"I tried to kill Newtype."
"Green Light Girl? Chasing you pretty far for that. How bad you fuck up?"
"My timing may have been ill advised."
Sherrel turned her jaw.
"Gonna try again?"
He stopped and turned, the one red eye looking down at her.
She waited and wondered.
Everything worked okay until she showed up. Skids didn't hit her so much, and he made the itching go away. She got to build more of what she wanted and less of what Skids and Trainwreck wanted. Brain lady would never have shown up with Skids in charge. All Green Light Girl's fault.
"No," Lame Name said. "Leet's dead. More important things to be doing than knocking Newtype off her high horse."
He turned and started walking again.
Sherrel followed.
"Though," he mumbled, "I suppose it's probably inevitable. She's too high on her own shit to stay in Brockton Bay forever."
Sherrel chuckled.
"What's funny?" He asked.
"Nothing."
High on her own shit. Funny. Not as funny as Skids, but funny.
"You just going to keep following me?"
"Nothing better to do. Don't wanna go to the asylum."
"Sound like you need it to me."
Sherrel swung her leg forward. Instant regret. Her toes stung and the pain shot right up her leg. She screamed, falling back on her butt. Her arms struggled against the jacket but remained restrained. She screamed again thrashing back and forth.
Lame Name looked down on her, and she scowled.
"Think you're better than me?" She asked. "Fuck you!"
And the tears started.
Why tears?
She didn't feel sad.
She itched all over, and she missed Skids and tinkering. Not really sad though. Didn't feel much like anything really.
"All Green Girl's fault," she huffed. "All her fault. She's just a bully, smashing my stuff and taking Skids and locking me up."
Lame Name kept staring while she tried to struggle out of the jacket. Couldn't tinker anything. If she could she'd get it off easily. Maybe if she found a tree to hang herself from or get someone to hold a blade?
"Here."
Lame Name raised the ax, and the blade ignited. Heat coursed through the metal and radiated through the air.
Sherrel glared at him, and when he didn't move she worked herself to her feet. She turned her back and a hand on her shoulder held her in place. She felt the heat for only a brief moment, and the itching vanished as the burning sensation shot through her body. Not painful. More like a superhot shower.
The jacket came loose, and Sherrel freed her arms.
Sherrel pulled it off and rubbed her wrists.
"What you want?" She asked.
"I don't want anything," Lame Name said. "Not from you."
"Pft. You're a guy. Guys always want something. Usually one thing."
"You're not my type."
"If you say so."
Lame Name started walking again, and Sherrel started following again.
"Why are you still following me?"
"Nothing better to do," she repeated.
Didn't exactly change, even if having her arms out of that jacket felt a lot better.
Couldn't go back to Brockton Bay. Only Merchant still running around was Trainwreck and he ditched. Fuck him. Nazis and Asians would start fighting in the streets, and if she showed up Green Girl would pick on her again for no reason. Apparently, someone in the PRT ordered someone to shank her to.
So fuck them. Why go back?
Lame Name stopped and sighed.
"You want something to do?" He asked.
She shrugged.
Lame Name's little cyclops eye went left and then right.
He started walking, turning deeper into the woods. Sherrel walked after him.
"You build that to fight Green Girl?" She asked.
"No," he said. "She robbed my tech and got a huge jump start. I've had to start all over. The Bugu is just an experiment that was useful against the Teeth. It's no match for those suits she's building."
"You picking fights with the Teeth?"
"They crossed the line."
"Yeah. They're the Teeth."
They came through the woods into a clearing. Tilled soil on the left for a mile, and a barn ahead. Lame Name marched his suit right up to the barn and stopped.
"You want something to do?" He asked. "Fix this."
He pushed the door open, and Sherrel glimpsed inside.
Didn't look like a tinker's workshop. It looked abandoned. Cobwebs everywhere and a thick layer of dust.
Is it a dust farm?
Did anyone even live here anymore? The field looked freshly tilled but the barn seemed completely abandoned.
Sherrel stepped inside, looking up at the old beat down flatbed. Something from the eighties by the looks of it, and covered in rust.
"You want me to fix this?" She asked.
"My power doesn't like simple tech," Lame Name said. "Power cores. Anti-gravity. Repulsors. Fluidic locomotion. Stuff like that."
He walked his suit into the barn and closed the door.
"It doesn't do 'truck' very well. You want to help, get that running. Faster for both of us than my Bugu."
Sounded like a free pass to do whatever she wanted.
Sherrel lifted the hood and inspected the engine. Not in bad shape, so there's that. The tires needed to be replaced though, and it needed a cannon somewhere.
"I'd be quick with it too," Lame Name said. "PRT is probably going to come looking for you."
He turned his suit around and crouched. The box on the back opened and Sherrel started looking over the contents.
"Did you seriously build a sonic screwdriver?" She asked.
"Something wrong with that?" He asked back.
"Nah. I built one too."
Sherrel picked up a tool and turned it in her hand.
No more itching.
