Montage 2.6
July 18th, 2007
On this most auspicious of mornings, I, Sovereign, strongest human being on the planet, was doing laundry and arguing with my mother.
"For the last time,you can't drive," Hannah said irritably. "What would that look like to the Heberts?"
It was somewhat telling that her first argument was based on appearances rather than legality.
"You have a week old broken collarbone," I protested. "It can't be any worse than that!"
"My driving is fine," Hannah said, waving my concerns away with her one good hand. "Now if you're done with your own stuff, go get your sister. If I know her, she's still tinkering in her lab and has totally forgotten to pack. Make sure you're both back within two hours. I've got to drop off some paperwork at HQ, I'll pick up Taylor on the way back, and then we're heading straight out."
It's official; we were all going to die in a fiery crash.
"Right, right," I muttered, slouching away. She wouldn't let me cook, either, which was more irritating. Instead, she and Riley had voted me down and purchased a small battalion's worth of TV dinners while Hannah was injured. I was getting rather tired of the many variations of fried chicken and mashed potatoes, though experimenting with hot sauce was producing viable results.
Riley was indeed still tinkering, but it was for a good cause. She handed me my daily growth syringe, which I took with surly grace before turning my powers back on and walking into the smallish operating theater.
Sveta – I'd finally suggested the name and she cautiously took to it – had been strapped to a table, and was currently at Riley's mercy. Normally this would be cause for alarm, but right now all that was happening was a large amount of cold metal being pressed to ticklish surfaces.
Tentacles writhed, but I'd separated them out this morning and bolted them down individually in three different places. She wasn't going anywhere.
"Hannah still distracted?" Riley asked, fingers not pausing as they tapped on the keyboard. Riley had been adamant about recording every step of the process – thus, the many leads attached to Sveta, and the giant camera observing from above.
"Yup. Gotta be done within two hours." I frowned at the empty cans on the desk. "Are all those energy drinks? How many have youhad?"
"I'll sleep in the car," she said defensively. "Besides, there's no time for power naps! I want to run a full checkup after to see if everything's alright."
She acted like she had no ulterior motives, but I knew better.
I seriously, seriously doubted that my sister would have any luck deciphering the power formula, but I couldn't prove that without flat out saying 'it's basically magic.' Besides, it made sense to monitor her vitals. The EKG and miscellany Tinker instruments which she'd spent all night making was probably going overboard, but it wasn't really my specialty.
"Fine, but you'd better sleep later or I'll get Hannah to weigh in." I threatened. "Sveta? You doing okay?"
"Little cold," she admitted. "It's weird, having something metal stuck to me like that."
"That's because they're your organ analogs," Riley said cheerfully, turning away from the computer. "I imagine it'd be even weirder for us. Josh, what was the anticipated power?"
"I was thinking something that viewed branching or parallel realities." It was my hope that the vials shared my implied 'weakness' to Coil's power, which would make experimenting with them much easier. "Barring that, something precognitive would be nice. Quantum is very generic, though – she might just appear in two places at once."
Sveta's head lifted as far as it could. "By 'two places at once' you mean a two whole me's, right? Not two halves?"
"Of course," I assured her. "Powers don't hurt the person they attach to."
Unless you get them from shady vials.
. . . Woops; let's not mention that.
"Now or never," I said hastily. "We all ready?"
Sveta nodded, though she still looked terrified. I didn't blame her; she might not be able to remember it, but this is exactly how she got into this mess.
"One sec," Riley said, sticking another lead to Sveta's forehead. "Okay, done. Are you sure she just has to drink it? Shouldn't we, I don't know, inject it directly?"
"Pretty sure," I told her dryly. "The note that came with the case said 'Drink. Replaces powers.' I don't think it's a good idea to screw with thetwo instructions it has."
Riley made a face. "It's just sounscientific.Imagine the differences in the digestive system between a Case 53 and a human – some don't even have mouths!"
I paused. "Yeah, having no mouth would make things difficult. Still, I can't imagine the circulatory system would be all that similar between different Case 53's."
Sveta writhed a little on the table, trying to turn and face us. "If you're done, can we get this over with? I'm strapped to an operating table and you two are somehowmaking it worse."
"Sorry Sveta," we apologized simultaneously. Riley handed me the vial.
"You do the honors?"
I took it carefully, then held it over Sveta's mouth. Obligingly, she opened up.
"Down the hatch," I told her uneasily.
Hopefully, this wouldn't cause horrific super cancer.
There wasn't much liquid in the vial. She swallowed it in one go.
We waited one moment. Two.
The round, slightly clawed clock ticked quietly; it was the only sound.
Riley looked up from her computer. "Huh; I was expecting-"
On cue, Sveta convulsed, every tendril going completely rigid. It happened fast; one moment, there was nothing but inky blackness, and the next moment patches of skin were forming. Tendrils withered into dust. Her main stalk solidified into a recognizably human torso. The restraints exploded as fleshy limbs expanded inexorably outward.
The last thing to change was her face, the bone structure shifting and gaining subtle depth. To my surprise, the brand burned red for a moment, then faded into nonexistence.
Within ten seconds of starting, there was a human on the operating table.
"Success!" Riley cheered. "I got the whole thing! A few of the leads detached, but enough stayed on through the transformation to givereallygood data!"
She was pale, pretty, late adolescent, andverynaked. Sveta shuddered one last time, doing interesting things to her -
Cheeks blazing red, I tossed a sheet over her. "I'll, uh, be packing. Your stuff, that is."
"What?" Riley asked, surprised. "I thought you wanted to help me with the tests?"
"Gotta get ready to go or Hannah will be suspicious," I told her quickly, stepping outside. "Tell me how it goes. She can use the cot and emergency supplies upstairs while we're gone. Just in case, show her how the phone works and give her my number, okay?"
With that, I beat a hasty retreat.
I had only one thought running through my head while I stuffed suitcases with clothes, one terrible, dreadful thought.
OhGod, not pubertyagain!
...
Three girls and one boy, plus a week of luggage for each, werenotgoing to fit in Hannah's car.
Luckily, she had foreseen the need for a larger vehicle, and – despite the way I gravitated towards the jeeps – borrowed a black sedan from the PRT. I, of course, claimed the front seat by right of shotgun while Taylor and Riley shared the expansive second row.
I still wasn't sure why Riley was grumpy; Taylor was literallybouncing.
"I can't believe we're going to New York!" She practically squealed. "Emma's going to be so jealous, she had to go to Summer Camp instead!"
"Why didn'tyougo to Summer Camp?" Riley muttered sullenly.
Taylor shrugged. "Eh, I signed up, but when Hannah called I told Dad I wanted to go to New York. You think we'll see Legend?!"
"He's kind of hard to miss when he's flying around at night." I paused. "Do you think he still patrols?"
Hannah shook her head. "Probably not. He's called all over the country when he's needed."
"I can dream," Taylor said morosely, leaning her head against the cool glass of the window. "I've always wanted to meet a hero."
Riley snorted; I bounced a crumpled tissue off her forehead.
"I'm sure this will be a lot of fun," Hannah said, flashing us a smile.
Thus, the expedition began.
As we pulled out of the driveway, I really,reallyhoped that Riley gave Sveta the full safety speech. We didn't need her accidentally releasing the Kraken (hopefully a joke) or worse,Tawny(unfortunately not a joke.)
Perhaps it would be a good time to pray?
...
After three bathroom breaks, two fast food stops and a flat tire – during which I discretely lifted the back of the car for Hannah while Taylor explored the gas station – we reached New York.
I'd never been to New York, in either life, so I may have been a little . . . dazzled.
Then again, I'm pretty sure thatanyvacation spot is much improved when you throw enough money at it, and we had alotof money to spare. Hannah was usually pretty stingy with it, but she'd obviously splurged on the room.
For one, we weren't in New York at all, we were in Montauk – as in, Montauk of the beach resorts.
Suddenly, I understood why Hannah insisted we all get new swim clothes. I'd never thought of New York as a beach location, so it came as something of a surprise.
There was only one problem.
"Dibs on a bed," I said immediately, setting my luggage down in the first room I came across.
"What?" Riley asked, surprised.
"Dibs!" Taylor said after the barest moment of hesitation. "I want a bed too!"
"Wait, how many bedsarethere?"
"Three," Hannah said cheerfully. "And one's mine."
"But then where will I sleep?" Riley looked horrified.
"Outside, with the bears and the wolves," Taylor told her heartlessly.
Hannah laughed, but I sensed it wasn't really a joke. "I get a room to myself since I'm older, and therefore larger; Josh gets a room to himself, since he's a boy. You two can share."
Riley and Taylor met each other's eyes. Sparks flew.
Oh, boy. I preemptively confiscated Riley's luggage and hid it behind the couch, in case she'd brought acid spiders. It's all fun and games till someone loses a faceà laArc of the Covenant.
"Josh, if you could go and grab dinner and the rest of the luggage from the car, that would be great." Hannah gave me a beatific smile, indicating her broken arm. "I'm liking this vacation already!"
"Fun, fun fun," I grumbled, stepping outside.
--
To my complete nonsurprise, I was woken up in the middle of the night by my door opening a crack. A dim ray of light reached across my face, lancing into my eyes.
"Josh?" My sister asked timidly. "Are you sleeping?"
"I was," I muttered, rolling over so the light wasn't blinding me. "Whatcha' need?"
"Taylor kicked me out of the bed," Riley admitted. "Literally - she keeps tossing and turning."
They'requeen sized beds, how much does she writhe in her sleep?!
For a moment, I considered the mental image of Taylor, wrapped in blankets and sheets like some giant cocooned caterpillar, rolling around the mattress.
"You could always sleep on the couch," I suggested helpfully, crossing my fingers.
"It's weird here," she admitted. "Really, really quiet. I don't know if I can sleep."
I rolled back over, frowning at her. "It wasn't quiet back at the house?"
"I had a fan." She gave me a beseeching look. "You have a fan too."
Not the eyes. Can't handle the puppy-dog eyes.
. . . Now I was picturing Riley with actual implanted puppy eyes.
With that, I turned my power on, hoping to avoid the horrific nightmares to follow. My mind goes strange places when I'm tired.
"Yeah," I sighed, scooting over as far as I could go. "You can stay here. Just bring your own blankets."
With any luck, I could still get a couple hours in before it was time to go exploring.
--
"Josh?" Hannah asked, perplexed. "Why are you on the couch?"
"Got kicked out of my bed," I grumbled, pulling the blanket over my head. "Super-strength doesn't help against siblings."
"Ah," she said, packing a lot of meaning into the word. "Let me make some coffee."
It was still dark outside and the girls were asleep, so I took my coffee and sat on the swing. Despite the gradually lightening horizon, the stars shone cold and clear in the sky. Hannah stepped out a moment later and grinned.
"Even on vacation, all you do is sit out on the porch swing."
I shrugged. "Even less light pollution here than there is at home; it's kind of nice."
Hannah snorted, then handed me a cup of steaming coffee. We sipped at the caffeinated brew in companionable silence, hearing quiet thumps as the others dragged themselves out of bed.
"So," Hannah said, giving me a sly look. "Any particular reason you invited Taylor?"
If she thought I'd get flustered at that, she was sadly disappointed.
"Guilt, I suppose. Taylor has two 'real' friends that she sees regularly – Emma, and me. The thing is, with all the Wards stuff lately I haven't been hanging out with her much, so I thought it'd be fun." I paused. "That, and if I didn't provide a need for stealth Riley would have brought more . . .exoticinventions to tinker with."
She shuddered. "Yeah, that's a good point. It's a lot harder to stow a pack of hubcap spiders when you've got to avoid attention."
"Yup - now she only brought the one, and she's not likely to break it out of the case. So," I clasped my hands and rubbed them together enthusiastically, "what's on the agenda for our trip? Where are we going?"
"I rented this cabin out for a couple of nights. We'll visit the Hero memorial, do some swimming on the beach, then we're headed to New York for some sightseeing."
I narrowed my eyes at her. "When you say 'sightseeing' you don't mean the New York Protectorate headquarters, right?"
"Of course not," Hannah said, trying and failing to look both offended and innocent. "I mean, we might stop in the gift shop – you know, for Taylor – but we're on vacation!"
"Good, because it'ssupposedto be a period of rest and recuperation. And bonding. Also, we'd inevitably have to lie to Taylor, which I dislike on principle."
"Principle, huh," Hannah smirked; I didn't like the look on her face. "I'm going to see if the girls are ready, then we'll check out Camp Hero."
From what I heard, Camp Hero sounded kind of tacky. I took a sip of coffee, grimacing at the instant flavor.
Ah well; how bad could it be?
...
Tourism. Ugh.
"-and now we enter our world famous Hero exhibit. Please, stay behind the lines and don't touch the glass – wouldn't want to trip the anti-villain measures!"
There were a couple of laughs at our tour guide's weak joke, but I just snorted; like they'd ever haveactualTinker tech in a public museum. How stupid would you have tobe?
"Now, as you probably know, Hero was widely considered the best tinker in the world, as well as our namesake. In this picture, taken at our own New York Protectorate branch, we can see him with Alexandria, Eidolon, and Legend."
Taylor flitted from display to display, eyes shining, getting as close as she could without crossing the innocuous blue lines on the floor. The rest of us were hanging around at the back of the group, trying to look like we were having fun.
No actual tinkers here. Nope, no capes at all.
The center display was the most interesting. Inside the glass was a complete set of replica Hero armor, the shining blue and gold a faithful representation of what the Tinker had been wearing when he met his end at the, quote, 'merciless hands of the Siberian.'
It may not have contained actual working technology, but I could almostfeelthe intensity of Riley's gaze. This was the Tinker that other Tinker's measured themselves against. If it could provide even a small clue, she'd study it for hours.
Not for the first time, I was reminded that Riley hadn't spent years under the tutelage of Mannequin and Jack Slash, perfecting her bloody craft one body – living or otherwise - at a time. She was still above average in terms of skill, but that was mainly a question of resources. If Bonesaw had a stable environment for a lab combined with decent funding, her potential would be second only to Dragon.
Though there weren't many who could compete with Dragon. If I had to guess, the staff of Camp Hero would be starting a Dragon section within a year, complete with unintentionally racist animatronic replicas.
"Next up is our Legend exhibit," our guide flashed us a guileless smile, opening a set of rainbow colored doors, "and I know some of you were looking forward to the scheduled speech, but I'm afraid he isn't able to be here today."
Groans; Taylor looked crushed. The inside of the next room was more of an amphitheater than an exhibit. As we watched, a video started to play.
"I know, I know, I wanted to see him too. Still, the manisa member of the Protectorate – he's probably off fighting villains and saving the world somewhere. As consolation, everyone with a ticket may use it to get 25% off at the gift shop or restaurant."
Hannah perked up slightly as the crowd moved forward. Even with the bounties and Riley's strict budget, she was always looking for corners to cut. "Anyone hungry?"
"I don't know," Taylor hedged, giving the displays a longing look. "Can't we stay for a minute or two?"
My stomach rumbled; I always seemed to be running on empty these days. "I could eat."
"Me too!" Riley piped up instantly, grabbing my arm and dragging me towards the restaurant. "Come on!"
Taylor sputtered for a moment, then followed, looking like someone had shot her dog. Hannah's shoulders shook slightly, but she maintained a straight face.
It was an interesting restaurant – kind of like a buffet, but with the order reversed. Rather than pick up a variety of food from a long series of hot metal trays, we piled ingredients from refrigerated plastic boxes into bowls and brought them up to a series of grills to be cooked.
The grills were automated; I wasn't actually sure if it was Tinker made, or if it was a clever permutation of existing technology, but the mechanical precision of the flashing utensils was almost mesmerizing. Taylor and Rileyooh'd andaah'd appropriately as the robot flipped and separated food groups.
Hannah tapped me on the shoulder, smiling, and pointed. I followed her finger to a line of pictures on the wall. There were thirty or forty of them, but they all shared two common themes – they were all taken in front of the restaurant, and they were all populated by heroes.
I stepped closer, examining them carefully. At the very top, the founding fathers of the Protectorate posed mid-flight, a much newer looking park arrayed behind them. It must have been an old picture – Hero was alive, wearing his signature armor.
Considering the resolution, it was probably his camera.
"What is this?" I asked, checking to make sure Riley and Taylor were still occupied.
"Something of a tradition." She pointed, indicating one picture in particular. A much younger Miss Militia was standing next to several unfamiliar capes, though the hero hovering proudly above was easily recognizable. "That's the first generation of Wards. We all autographed the back after it was taken."
Even with the photographic evidence in front of my face, it was hard to believe that Alexandria could smile like that.
"Wow." There wasn't much I could say. This was different from the rest of the park – more of a shrine than an attraction. Hannah smiled, though there was something bittersweet about it.
It hit me, then, like I'd been bashed over the head with a spiked Clu-bat.
Most of those happy, smiling faces were dead.
Hannah looped one arm around my shoulders. "When you graduate into the Protectorate, maybe you'll be up there, huh?"
"Yeah," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Maybe."
"Hey!" Taylor said, stepping over. "Food's ready. The machines shot it onto these plates, and – what are you looking at?"
Taylor blinked once, staring at the wall, then her eyes went round as hubcaps.
. . . Yeah, this was going to go on a while. Best grab my food before the inevitable explosion.
...
"-I mean, I can't believe she studied under Alexandria!" Taylor gushed, her plate mostly ignored.
Hannah had an amused, tolerant expression on her face. "She is pretty great, yeah."
I sunk a little lower in my seat.
"It's just, wow, Miss Militia was actuallytaughtby a member of the Triumvirate!" Taylor took a bite, swallowed, and continued. "I just wish I could meet her, I'd ask allsortsof questions."
Riley's shoulders shook with suppressed mirth; Hannah swatted her with a napkin.
"Don't make fun of your friends hobbies," she admonished, though she was struggling to avoid a smile herself.
Happy to take a break fromthatconversation, I turned to my meal. The food here was pretty good, though it really needed . . . something.
There was a red bottle on the table labeled 'Fire Sauce.'
I considered the burning hazard symbol on the label for a moment, then squirted a generous dollop onto my beef and noodles.
The first bite was like concentrated hellfire on my tongue.
Heavenly.
Riley made a disgusted face. "I still don't understand how you caneatthat."
"Heathen!" I declared, extending a finger across the table. "Thou shalt not blasphemy the glories of spicy food!"
"I still remember the one time we let you make dinner!" Riley swatted my hand aside, extending a finger of her own. "I'll blasphemy if I want to!"
"You'll back me up on this, right Taylor?" I turned to her beseechingly.
Taylor hesitated; Riley began to wave her arms like an air traffic controller. A smirk appeared on Taylor's face. "Of course! Dad and I love spicy food, though mom says we're mas – maso-"
She frowned, struggling to remember precisely what Anne said. Riley opened her mouth, perhaps happy to have a chance at correcting Taylor's vocabulary, but Hannah swatted her again.
"Anyways, Dad and I eat spicy things all the time." My sister scowled at her, but Taylor remained smug.
"Fine," Riley said, voice saccharine sweet. She picked up the bottle of fire sauce and extended it; Taylor began to sweat. "Try some, then."
"Well – I mean, I'm not really -"
"If you don't actually like spicy food, you don't have to." I told her, trying to give her a way out.
Unfortunately, it seemed to have the opposite effect. Her resolve firmed and, like a soldier storming the beaches of Normandy, she took the bottle and squirted it onto her meal of vegetables.
Everyone leaned forward, even Hannah. Taylor lifted the fork, slowly, steadily, and took a bite.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then beads of sweat appeared, and Taylor turned beet red.
"It's-" She swallowed convulsively, eyes watering. "It's g-good."
I beamed at her. "Finally, someone with taste buds. If you like that, I can always cook for you later?"
Taylor's eyes widened, giving Riley a beseeching look, but Riley was unsympathetic.
Taylor's shoulders slumped, staring down at her food. ". . . Alright."
...
Riley's smugness lasted until we reached the beach.
"I don't believe it," she moaned, sinking to her knees. "It'sraining."
"It's only a light sprinkle," Taylor said, trying to be hopeful. "We could go swimming anyways?"
"No," Hannah said, frowning as she scratched at her cast irritably. "Too cold and windy, and the storm's just coming in. You'd get sick."
Dejected, Taylor trudged back to the vehicle and slurped the milkshake that Hannah bought her after dinner. Rather than join her, Riley sidled up to me.
"Say, think you could – you know, punch it?"
I stared at her. "Punch thestorm?"
"Yeah – just blow it away!" Riley mimed throwing a punch, as if that was going to help me understand her thought processes. "Bam, zoom, into a neighboring county?"
"I – uh-" I turned to face the heavy clouds, considering. "Maybe?"
I activated my powers, feeling surety and clarity return.
It was actually quite possible; my arms didn't have much surface area, so I'd have to widen my grip with my field, but I'd been practicing just that in my flight training. If I punched hard enough with enough air to conduct it, I'd be able to make a nice, massive concussive blast.
Of course, I'd also blow out eardrums and break glass if I did it too close.
"Maybe if I jumped up really high above the ocean, then I could sort of Karate-kick it?" I mused, squinting out at the turbulent water. "You'd have to distract Taylor, and there'd be a sonic boom, but-"
This time, it was my turn to get thwacked by Hannah, though it was more of a dunce slap without a handy napkin.
"Don't even think about it," she said irritably, shaking her – mostly – uninjured hand. "We'll come back later."
We pouted, but obediently trudged back to the car.
...
That night turned out to be board game night. To my surprise, Hannah actually bested us at Scrabble, which was all sorts of unfair for someone who learned English as a second language.
Fortunately, I maintained my title as the Monopoly champion, and with Taylor present I managed to ignore Riley and Hannah's silent accusations of dice control.
The next few days, we did the tourist thing – we went to various museums, the Statue of Liberty, the New York Protectorate branch, the beach when it wasn't storming – but all too quickly it was time to pack up and go home.
On our drive back, Hannah got a text that made her go pale. At my interrogative look, she passed the phone to me silently. It was Armsmaster's number, his work phone. If he was calling while we were on vacation - a violation of policy - something had gone horribly wrong.
Home2 attacked. Claire missing. M/S P2. Return ASAP.
I flipped the phone closed and set it in a cupholder. "So, Mom, I've always wanted to see how fast these things could go."