07 Untitled Prism Ring Chapter

Previously on Prism Ring: There was a school shooting in two alternate universes, at the public school Gabe and Olivia attended. Someone gave a troubled, bullied teen a laser gun. Which is, needless to say, even more illegal than giving a teenager a regular gun.

In the main alternate universe, our hero "Floyd Clapton" tried to tell the nearest hero team. He not only learned two of the members were corrupt and knew about the attack, but he was also too late to stop the shooting, and despite the best efforts of Gabe and Olivia, a promising young quarterback lost an arm, which a guilt-ridden Floyd later healed.

Meanwhile, in the alternate alternate universe, our other hero "Chris Benson", Gabe, and Olivia stopped the shooting with nobody damaged. However, the bully who indirectly caused the accident is now Interested in the trio. How will she react? Will she uncover anything damning? All this and more, on the next Dragonball Z!

We now rejoin our Floyd, already in progress.

-PR-

The door sticks a little. I jiggle it until it comes loose.

There's a railed porch between the Aldrins' sliding door and the vaguely Asian back garden. I keep expecting to see the water thing that goes doink! from Kill Bill.

It would be a nice place to meditate.

Sadie, medium priority, meditate.

(! Confirmed. ¡)

Mr. A leans on the railing. He's drinking tea. Some kind of imported blend he buys from Asian markets. Smells nice, but I'm not a tea person. I'm not even a coffee person. Basically just hot cocoa.

He raises his cup. "Evening."

"Evening."

"Didn't you quit sugary drinks?"

I look down. Yep, definitely a certain Classic Cola brand. I don't even remember when I picked this up. I put it down on the railing, then sit down on the steps to the left. "How's Olivia?"

"Blaming herself for that kid's arm. I've seen it before."

"That's ridiculous."

"I know. I would've told her that, but it wouldn't he-"

"It's my fault."

"Come again?"

"I knew it was coming, and I waited too long to try and stop it."

Mr. A puts his tea down on the railing. "How much do you know, exactly?"

Deep breath. I tap my ear, then put a finger to my lips.

"We're secure. Go ahead."

"You're a retired superhero. Bookie turned on his team, so you quit and Gabe's dad faked his own death, to become Gabe's stepfather."

"Ah. I see." He takes a sip.

"That's it?"

"That's what?"

"I could be a mole he sent to spy on you."

"No. I've always been a good judge of character. Usually. Speaking of, what's bothering you?"

I sigh and flop back. The the hardwood's cool under my back. The ceiling is the same dark wood. "How could you tell?"

"I knew a guy. Wanted to quit smoking. Managed eventually. But he kept reaching into his pocket, out of habit. Went outside for smoke breaks, out of habit. Almost bought it in the store, out of habit. It didn't just go away. Especially when he was stressed."

"So...the soda?"

"The soda. I'm guessing you usually had some kind of sugary drink in the fridge at home."

"Yep." Mum hated that word. "Usually some kind of lemonade."

In case you're wondering, I like both the Classic Cola and it's blue competition. Especially the Cherry, Vanilla, and Lime variants. Even the Diet stuff.

Doctor Pepper can die in a fire. Or at least have his license revoked.

"Do you know how often heroes show up a few seconds too early or too late?"

"No."

Mr. A shakes his head. "No one does. Even Kicks can't always be the right man in the right place at the right time."

"Wait...did you know I knew about you?"

"You had intel on Bookkeeper's operation. Stood to reason you knew about me."

"What can you tell me about my predecessor? The Frenchwoman?"

"Primée?" Another sip. "Brave. Beautiful."

"In that order?"

"More or less."

"Her ring wasn't exactly the same, was it?"

"No. She didn't have the fancy tricks yours did. No fancy AI. She just had to manipulate pure energy."

"As opposed to Diet Energy?"

Aldrin snorted.

"How did she die?"

He freezes. I caught spikes of red and gold, tamped down by green. Maybe a little love in there. Fraternal or romantic? Both?

And more importantly, is it any of my business?

He goes "no."

"No...what."

"No, I'm not ready to talk about this yet. As you can plainly see."

"Oh. Okay."

He put the cup down. "Olivia's blaming herself. Don't make the same mistake."

"...Okay."

He nods, and goes inside.

I lie there for a little while longer, then sit up and stare into the garden. The crickets chirp in the darkness.

Did he blame himself for Primée? Survivor's guilt?

I...really want that soda.

I shouldn't have it. I should've asked Mr. A to take it with him. Or maybe he left it out here as a test.

It's just one soda. 330ml of carefully corporate-concocted carbs in a crimson can.

And the cola was good, even though they stopped putting cocaine in it a long time ago.

I reach for the dopamine hit.

A black girl comes out of nowhere, shoves my hand down, and sits on the steps.

The first thing I notice is the legs. I follow them up. They take a fair amount of following.

She's darker than me. Her face is rounder, more prominent cheekbones. Short hair. West African? Long legs, which I can see because she's in boyshorts. Reminds me of a runner girl I once knew.

She leans back, has her hands spread wide. Tank top. Chest isn't particularly large. I'd call her languid, if I was sure what languid meant. But there's definitely relaxed grace there.

Her necklace is a heart shaped cage, with a tiny silver version of the insignia from my ring.

I don't know why, but I go "Sadie?"

"Hello, Floyd." African accent, too. Reminds me of music, like African accents and Mandarin usually do. "I love you."

Huh-

How-

What?

The crickets chirp on.