Chapter 6-6

A lot of superhero comics and TV shows follow a certain pattern. Usually, the main hero is stoic, tough, and serious, while the wisecracking is usually reserved for the plucky side-kick who gets beaten up, captured, or shot with the device-of-the-week. I always liked that dynamic. It meant that the hero would be smart and pragmatic enough to beat the villain while the side-kick gave the story some much needed comic relief. With Clockblocker, though, it kind of worked the other way around, which is a lot more problematic than it sounds.

I guess the root of the problem is that some idiot at the PRT decided that seniority with the Wards was determined by age rather than anything logical, like how good they were at their jobs. It meant that Clockblocker outranked me. I had to follow his lead.

This was going to end badly, I just knew it. The first thing he did when we left the Rig was ordering me not to silence him. I'd call it an abuse of power, but that would probably encourage him. Worst part is that I wouldn't even get any exercise out of this. At least the others can keep up or fly.

Okay, maybe I'm speaking too soon. He did have months of experience and a very useful and versatile power. It's just that he wasted his potential. I suppose his care-free attitude might win him a few friends, but to me, it was just annoying. It's like his funny bone doesn't have an off-switch. There's nothing wrong with a little levity from time to time and I'll even admit that he's pretty funny on occasion, but when we're out on patrol, doing our jobs, he shouldn't be joking around. Not when there could be a gangmember around the next corner. Of course, he never seemed to listen. When I confronted him about it, he grabbed me by the shoulders and said: "Oh, Banshee, you really need to lighten up. Let me give you one of my world-famous massages."

"Clockblocker, do you have any idea how badly I want to punch you right now?"

"See? Wound up tighter than the cap on a ketchup bottle."

He isn't very good at faking pity.

Still, he was a good guy and if nothing else, he does have a useful power. The ability to freeze just about anything for a short period of time was incredibly valuable. If only he'd stop joking long enough to be of any use. Honestly, I wasn't sure if he really had the proper mindset to work in law enforcement. No one's ever defeated a villain by wisecracking them into submission. I guess he wanted to put that theory to the test. Hopefully, he wouldn't get someone killed before finding out.

Clockblocker was in the middle of his latest anecdote involving himself, Hookwolf, and a bag of rotten avocadoes when I heard some strange moaning nearby. "Shush, I heard something."

"Really now? I was just getting to the good part. Seriously, once you've seen Hooksy make guacamole…"

I sighed. Unprofessional. "Clockblocker, I'm serious." Finally, he got the message and held his tongue. We walked to the next block and saw a woman running across the street. Even in the dark, I could see she was in a bad shape: every few steps, she collapsed, clawed at something only she could see, before getting up and doing it again. There was something else about her, though. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

"We have to help her." I decided.

"Yeah, we should." Clockblocker sounded almost bored. "Probably another druggie." I suppose that made sense, but still… I can't imagine what kind of drug could do something like this. Then again, what do I know about drugs anyway? "Just stay behind me. Let me handle this."

Clockblocker handling a social situation? Well, it's not like I'm any better at this sort of thing. "What if she attacks you?"

Clockblocker shrugged. "I'll use my power on her. Just don't shoot her, okay? I'll be fine." He turned to the poor woman and called out: "Hey lady! You alright?"

Immediately, the woman turned around and charged, while screaming incoherently. I pulled out my bow and got ready to put an arrow in her leg when I remembered what Clockblocker just told me. Don't shoot, let him handle it. Worst comes to worst, he could just freeze her. Or he'd get beaten to a pulp, which sounded a lot more appealing to me than it should.

"Ma'm, I need you to calm down. We're just trying to…oh, crap." The woman closed the distance and jumped right in his face. An instant later, she was frozen in time.

"Clockblocker, you alright?"

He pulled himself from under the frozen figure. "What…Okay, seriously, what the hell?! She tried to pull my head off!"

"Well, at least she's a good judge of character." I quipped back.

"Oh, wow. Somebody mark the calendar. Banshee's developed a sense of humor." He replied, dryly. "Seriously, what's up with the crazy women these days? First Red, now this… Banshee, I'm blaming you."

I ignored him and looked at the frozen form in front of me. Why did she attack? There was no reason for her to think we were a threat. I only pulled out my bow until after she charged Clockblocker. It couldn't have been that. If it were, she'd have gone after me instead of him, right?

Then again, she could just be nuts. Crazy people aren't known for making rational decisions. Maybe trying to figure out a delusional mind isn't a very good idea. Especially when there were other questions I should ask, like: "Why is her skin orange?"

Clockblocker took another look at the woman and said: "Huh. Good catch."

"Seriously, though, why is she orange? I've never heard of a drug that does that."

"Dunno. Maybe she ate too many carrots?"

I groaned. "And I guess she's just naturally homicidal? Or maybe she really needed to beat your head inside-out. I can sympathize."

"Cute. Anyway, there's this guy who works for Faultline, Newter, I think. Case 53. Maybe we just found his sister?" A Case 53. 'Monstrous parahuman'. Possible, but my gut told me otherwise and I wasn't sure why. "I'm calling this in. Warn me if she unfreezes."

I'm getting really bad vibes from this woman. Not like with Red, just…something else. There was something wrong with her. Something other than the whole homicidal maniac thing. I hoped they'd send Velocity to come pick us up. The sooner I get away from this…person, the better.

Suddenly, she unfreezed and I body-checked her right away. "Clockblocker!" She was strong. Not as strong as I was, but definitely stronger than she should have been.

"I'm on it! Throw her on the ground."

I obliged and the screaming harpy slammed into the pavement. Before she could get up, Clockblocker jumped in and froze her again. This variable freezing time thing was really annoying. It made planning a pain in the ass.

"That's it," Clockblocker said, mostly to himself. "I'm staying right here. No more surprises out of you, crazy carrot lady."

Looking down at her, I couldn't help but notice that her chest looked larger than it did a minute ago. "Is it just me or does she look a little bloated?"

"Now that you mention it… Yeah, she kind of does. That's probably not a good thing, is it?"

"Probably her power, if she's really a case 53." I noted. "Power to blow yourself up like a balloon?"

"I guess… Wonder if we can make balloon animals out of her?"

I smacked him on the back of the head. That wasn't funny at all. The absurd mental image I had of someone folding their arm into a poodle wasn't funny either.

A few minutes later, a PRT van finally arrived. About time. The cycle of boredom followed by a few seconds of almost getting eaten was getting on my nerves.

"Do you think we can freeze her in the van?" I asked as I manhandled the woman into the vehicle. A pair of officers promptly foamed her tight. Clockblocker and I thanked them and jumped into the van. As we sped off, the woman kept snarling and screaming, even as her voice was being muffled by the containment foam.

"Well, my power kind of locks someone in space and time. I try that and we move, the crazy lady won't. You can guess what happens next."

Well, that made sense. Except… "So why doesn't she fall off the face of the earth? I mean, the planet's moving around the sun, right? If your target gets locked in space and time…"

Clockblocker looked at the woman, then back to me, and shrugged. "Magic."

"Magic?"

"Space magic." He 'clarified'.

"Fair enough." I said. Obviously I wasn't going to get a better answer. Powers are weird.

A few minutes later, we arrived at the PRT headquarters. Another group of officers and…was that Panacea and Glory Girl? Huh, didn't think the PRT would call them in for this. Then again, Panacea's probably our best bet for fixing whatever is wrong with our prisoner.

"You know, if it's a Case 53," The healer said. "I won't be able to do much. Even if my powers work at all, they just revert after a while."

"We're just asking you to try. Who knows, we might get another hero out of this." Sarge replied.

I could all but hear Panacea cringe. "You keep saying that every time you drop a possible Case 53 on my lap."

"And we keep hoping that this time will be different." Judging by the sound of his voice, I'm guessing Sarge has had this conversation many times. "Can't fault us for trying. Besides, we could always be wrong. If she's just sick, you might just save her life."

Panacea stepped into the van, not even acknowledging my presence. "Okay, I need some skin to work with. Can anyone get rid of some of this foam?" I obliged her, carefully using my power to remove the foam around the patient's arm. As soon as it came free, it started flopping around like a fish on dry land. Should have seen that coming. "Banshee, please hold her arm steady. The rest of you: out."

I grabbed the flailing limb while everyone else cleared the area and Panacea started working her magic. A minute later, her eyes widened.

That wasn't a good sign.

"Panacea?" I asked.

"She's not a Case 53…" The healer whispered. "Oh God…" Panacea jumped away and curled into a ball. Why would she…

Suddenly, I was thrown off my feet my a massive explosion. Pieces of wet flesh fell around me with a sickening squish before disintegrating. When my brain caught up with the current events, I realized what had happened: the woman just exploded.

What? How? What kind of superpower is self-detonation? That didn't even make any sense. Shouldn't the Manton Effect prevent you from literally killing yourself with your power? Why was I even thinking about the Manton Effect when someone just exploded in my face? Why…

"AMES!" Glory Girl shrieked as she flew towards her sister, knocking over anything and anyone in her way.

"I'm fine, Vicky." Panacea said, sounding winded but not particularly concerned. I wasn't so sure. Her costume was completely shredded by the blast. Then, I saw what was underneath: leathery-looking scales. She was wearing armor. "See? Suit I made took the worst of it."

Glory Girl started grinning and gently punched her sister in the shoulder. "Told you. Fucking told you the suit was a great idea! I swear, I'm going to make mom take back everything she said."

"That's…nice, Vicky." The healer muttered. "Real nice."

Well, at least the Dallon sisters were fine. Sarge asked if I was alright, but I waved him off. The blast didn't even get through my shield. I was the last person he should be worried about. Honestly, the real question on my mind was: what the hell happened to that woman? People don't explode naturally. My first thought was that she triggered very recently, lost control of her power in the messiest way possible, and killed herself somehow. Manton says that shouldn't happen, but he could have been wrong.

The second explanation was worse: that someone did this to her. Maybe someone had a power that turned people into psychotic bombs. Maybe some crazy Tinker figured out some device that could do the same. If that was the case, would we be seeing more people like this?

I don't think I'll like the answer.