Chapter 6-3

Finding someone to spar with was difficult. Well, for me, anyway. Sure, we had a base full of former soldiers and superheroes, but no one in their right mind is going to fight a girl that can break their spines with her bare hands if she isn't careful. Brute ratings tend to scare away sparring partners. Aegis was sometimes willing to join in, but he was in school today. Besides, he still felt pain like normal people did and it didn't seem fair to snap his bones like a twig just to vent.

At least we still had the Brute-rated training dummy. No idea what it was made of, but it looked practically indestructible. Even in my costume, I couldn't really damage it. Good thing, I suppose. At least I have something to punch when I needed to blow off some steam.

I kept asking myself the same question: should I have walked away from Armsmaster like that? Yes, he was out of line. You just don't ask about someone's trigger event, regardless of circumstance. It's personal to the extreme, physically painful just to remember, and defies every single rule of social conduct among capes that I knew off. You just didn't do it. On the other hand, I couldn't deny that it looked like there was some sort of connection between Red, myself, and those other subjects he mentioned. If I were in his place, I'd want to know what's going on too. Besides, his request wasn't that unreasonable, considering what's at stake. If I were an 'artificial cape' and Armsmaster found a way to replicate what happened to me, it could be world-changing. Capes without trigger events and the psychological damage that comes with it would be far more stable. We could create superheroes on demand. I suppose I couldn't deny that he had a good reason for asking this.

Which meant that I screwed up. Armsmaster just wanted a little information, and I spat in his face. Okay, he bungled the delivery, but that didn't change that I probably shouldn't have been so hard on him. All he wanted to know was whether or not my trigger event happened the way I thought it did. He was just trying to do his job and I was being a bitch because of it.

Great job, Taylor.

I'd really hoped that I'd gotten over it. I'd thought that once I left Winslow and became a superhero, I could leave the locker and the bullying behind. That's what should have happened. I should have been happy and sane. Instead...

Instead I'm still broken inside. So much that I was just an inch away from punching Armsmaster on the nose just for asking about it. I hurled another punch into the dummy. It didn't budge an inch.

"No. No, no, no, no, no." I heard someone say. Wait, was that Red? "This will not do."

"Red?" Before I realized what was happening, the woman grabbed my arm in her vice-like grip and practically dragged me towards the sparring mat. With her armor, she was just as strong as I was, if not stronger. "Red, what's going on?" I noticed three nervous PRT troopers with foam guns following us, probably wondering if they should interfere.

"Your pathetic flailing offends me, little one." She replied, as if that answered everything. Wait, did she call me 'little one'? What does that even mean?

"So?"

"So let me educate you. By all that is holy, you are in dire need of it."

That was actually insulting. I may not be the best martial artist in the world, but that doesn't mean that I can't hold my own. "I'm fine, Red. I was just blowing off steam."

"Irrelevant. You still have much to learn." Red all but hurled me onto the sparring mat. I guess she wasn't going to take no for an answer. "Now hit me."

Right, and let you hit back? I've seen what her punches could do. "I don't suppose I'm getting any say in this?"

"Do you think your blood will care for your desire to live when you've been stabbed in the gut?" She replied bluntly. Fine then, I'll play along with the madwoman. If she was kill-crazy, the PRT wouldn't have let her walk around the base. She could probably hurt me, but my gut told me she wouldn't. Besides, if I didn't try to trust her, who would? "Now hit me."

So I did.

Or rather, I tried to. Instead, Red took a step backwards and I overextended my punch. She then grabbed my arm and twisted, forcing me to the ground.

Well, that was embarrassing.

I picked myself up from the ground. Two minutes later, I face-planted into the mat again. This pattern repeated itself so many times I lost track. One time, she used her fists and went almost exclusively for the face. The next, she switched to a style revolving around footwork before sweeping my legs out from under me. Every time I thought I had the hang of her skill set, she'd switch it up again and send me flying. At least she had the decency to give a few useful pointers in between pounding me into the mat.

Half an hour later, I was sore as hell. Red didn't pull her punches and I was pretty sure she'd hit every inch of my body at least once. I was going to come home with some spectacular bruises. Not that I really minded. Every time I got up, I lasted a little longer. I still had trouble actually hitting her, let alone beating her, but I was improving. Especially after I stopped thinking about how to hit her and let my instincts do the work.

Didn't save me from getting my ass kicked repeatedly, but at least I could feel a little better about it. Besides, it's nice to spar with someone that fought like I did, implications be damned.

"Okay," I asked, after being thrown on the floor for the umpteenth time. "be honest: how many black belts do you have?"

She looked at me quizzically before replying: "I don't understand."

Right, amnesia. I should cut back on the cultural references. "I meant, how many martial arts do you know, really? It's like you're using six different styles at once."

"You recognized that. Good. Very good." Red nodded. I wasn't entirely sure what she meant by that. "But to answer your question, I don't know. I do not remember much from before. Armsmaster seems to believe that I was part of a hero or vigilante group, but they have yet to discover which."

"And the Boxheads' files didn't help?"

I saw her tense at the mention of her tormentors. Thankfully, she didn't lash out or fly into a rage. "They don't know much about my origins. All they know is where I was captured: a set of coordinates leading to some place on Mars."

"Mars? As in the planet Mars?" Considering that the Simurgh has a habit of visiting anyone with a space program, I found that very hard to believe. Had to be a mistake or something.

"Yes. Unfortunately, I have been told that Mars is unreachable at this time. Searching the area for clues is impossible."

Of course it's impossible! It's on Mars. It's ridiculous to even consider going there.

"Ahem." One of the troopers interrupted. "Could you…ehm…warn us next time you do that?"

"I believe the director's exact words were that I was free to interact with the heroes and personnel on this base, so long as I do not interfere with their work or try to access classified information. Apparently, she hopes that socializing will allow me to hold on to what little is left of my sanity." Red said. Funny, I didn't realize she could be sarcastic.

"Yes, but there's a difference between 'interacting' and 'beating the shit out of a Ward'."

"I'm fine, sir." I quickly added before someone else gets it into their heads that I'm made of glass. Then again, we were both Brutes and neither of us had been holding back much. Our little sparring match had to look pretty brutal for them.

The second soldier snorted. "See? She's fine. No need to worry about Banshee, the bullshit sonic, kung-fu ninja." Guess he was angry about something.

"Don't mind him, he's just angry about you getting him foamed the other day." The first immediately replied. "But I digress. You know she beat up Armsmaster, right?" His concern was touching, but it wasn't necessary.

"Yes, I was there. If she wasn't going to kill me then, she certainly isn't going to do that now."

The lead soldier grumbled a little. "Fine. Red, just please tell me if you're going to do something like that again, okay? I'll foam you if you don't."

Red nodded, but didn't say a word. She seemed to tolerate her trio of hanger-ons, but nothing more. Then again, the troopers probably weren't fond of her either. Not that I could blame them, all things considered. It couldn't be easy, knowing that you might have to pull a trigger on someone that could rip you apart with her bare hands. The fact that she's strong enough to break out of containment foam doesn't help either.

Red turned around and sat down on a nearby bench. I joined her. "They think I'm unstable." She whispered. To be honest, so did I. "They all do. They are letting me walk around because they fear I will lash out if I'm kept under lock and key for too long. Like I'm a crazed animal that will devour its masters if its cage isn't large enough for its liking."

I couldn't say they weren't wrong. Cabin fever makes people do crazy things and I really don't like the idea of Red losing it. "Do you remember what you did to Armsmaster?"

She lowered her head a little. Embarrassment? Shame? Both? "I attacked him, yes, but only because he attacked me first."

I shook my head. "From my perspective, you were doing a lot more than just attacking. Honestly, it looked like you were trying to beat him to death with his own skull."

"He…"

"…is an ass and probably deserved it, yes. Still, try looking at it from their point of view. As far as they can tell, you're ready to lash out at a drop of a hat. You don't really hold back in a fight, and when you're strong enough to snap someone's bones in half with your bare hands, bad things happen. That you beat up the big boss doesn't help either." I sighed. How do I put this diplomatically? "I think the PRT likes being cautious. If a Parahuman like you goes nuts, people die. They're afraid that if you run into someone that looks like another Boxhead, you'll probably kill them in a heartbeat. They don't want that, so they send those guys to shadow you."

She sighed. "I understand." But she didn't agree, Red probably wanted to add.

"It'll get better after a while. We're just trying to do what's best."

"And how would you know what's best for me? Do you know pain, little one?"

"Yes, I do." I answered without hesitation. Emma. Sophia. Madison. It doesn't compare, but it's pain nonetheless. "Nothing like what you've been through, but I know what it's like to be at the mercy of some sick fucks who just want to hurt you."

"What happened to them?"

They got a slap on the wrist, but she didn't need to know that. "Out of my life and stuffed in the deepest, darkest hole we could find."

"And that is justice to you?" She asked, calmly. That surprised me. She didn't strike me as the kind of person that would settle for anything short of an 'eye for an eye'.

"I want to move on with my life, Red. It's hard and it doesn't always work, but…well, sometimes, just surviving those bitches is payback enough. I get to be happy. They don't."

"Would the Boxheads feel the same way?"

"Does it matter?"

After a moment of thought, she muttered: "It matters to me."

We stayed silent after that.