Fears of the Slaughterhouse Nine being in town were quickly dispelled by verified reports that they were currently somewhere in Ohio, making the residents even more miserable than usual. My personal fears that the Simurgh had made me the person I am, on the other hand, were assuaged not in the slightest. After assuring Dad that I hadn't been anywhere near the incident on the boardwalk, I spent the rest of the day alternately thinking about what the Simurgh wanted with me and trying not to think about what the Simurgh wanted with me. How she was going to try to achieve her goals was firmly in the 'try not to think about' category.
Needless to say, I didn't sleep well that night. Fortunately I had a sure-fire way to distract myself on Sunday. I would busy myself performing heroic deeds and acts for the betterment of all mankind, regardless of an Endbringer's desires or influence! Also, it really isn't in Freakazoid!'s nature to dwell on things. Or overthink them. Or plan, take sensible precautions, or generally focus on something for more than five minutes. At best. And right now, that was honestly what I needed. Onward to heroism!
"Ok, just stay with me, Miss," Freakazoid! instructed in an assured, soothing voice as she lay the young woman on the bench. "Can you breathe easily now? Don't nod. Just give me a thumbs up if you can't speak. Good. Ok, you're going to be fine. These gentlemen will take you to a safe place. No, no, don't try to hug me. Or kiss me. That's it, just relax. And remember, in the future, always turn your head to the side when you pass out, so you're not at risk of drowning in your own vomit."
As the girl gave Freakazoid! another weak thumbs up, a police officer stepped up. "Thanks, Freakazoid!. Sorry it took so long to get here, but you know how traffic is right now; we'll get her to the drunk tank until she's recovered enough to properly enjoy her hangover. What's this, your eighth this morning?"
"Thirteenth," grimaced the hero as she brushed a fleck of vomit off her sleeve.
"Damn…" said the officer while shaking his head, "Well, I want you to know that all of us on the force appreciate what you're doing. Maybe some of these kids will too, once they sober up … but I wouldn't count on it."
"Thanks. I'm not in the hero business to be appreciated, but it doesn't hurt to hear it every so often! And let me assure you, I have the greatest respect for the men and women in uniform, especially in this city! And now, I'm off to help others! Freakazoid! away!"
And putting her arms above her head, Freakazoid! leapt into the air!
"Uh… Freakazoid!?" asked the other officer a second later when the hero landed back in the same spot, "you sure you can fly? I've never heard of you doing it before or anything…"
"Oh, right!" she exclaimed, smacking her forehead. "Sometimes I forget. Thanks!" And Freakazoid! ran off, arms still over her head, the officers watching her go for a moment.
"That girl is a true hero," remarked the first officer, "protecting the public, taking on monsters with powers, and even saving college kids without the sense of a golden retriever from themselves..."
His partner nodded. "Not the sharpest pencil in the box, though."
"True, that. But I wouldn't trade her for a dozen geniuses."
On the bench behind them, the girl gave a weak thumbs up. And then threw up.
"Zack, come on man, say something, you're scaring me. Oh, God… Come on, please wake up…" The young man gave his friend lying on his back in the alley another shake. "Don't do this to me, man."
Suddenly he looked up, panic flashing across his face as he heard someone else walk into the alley. "Oh, thank God," he cried when he recognized the hero heading toward them. "Please, you have to help us."
"What's wrong?" asked Freakazoid! as she quickly came over and crouched down near them.
"My friend Zack… he took something he bought from a guy on the street. Uh, pills, not food. And he had a lot to drink. Booze, not soda. He said he needed to take a leak and went into this alley. When he didn't come back after a while, I came in to check on him and found him like this!"
"Ok, have you called 911?"
"Shit! No! Oh God, he's going to die and it's all my fault!"
"Get a hold of yourself―your friend needs you! I'll call this in; you see if you can find the pills your friend took."
As the young man searched his friend's belongings, Freakazoid! produced her phone and made the call.
"I'll dispatch an ambulance," said the woman on the other end of the line after getting the info, "but with current traffic conditions, it'll be at least half an hour before the nearest one can reach you."
"We may not have that much time! Can't you send a helicopter? Or get the Protectorate to send a flyer?"
"Unfortunately not. Anything we have that could reach you faster is already responding to another call. If you have a safe way to get the patient to a hospital before the ambulance can arrive, that may be your best bet."
"I'll make sure he gets there faster!" declared Freakazoid!, puffing herself up, "Send that ambulance to someone else in need!" Hanging up, she turned to the man staring at her with hope shining in his eyes. "Make your way to Brockton Bay General as you can. I'll do my best to get Zack there in time."
"Thank you! Thank you so much," cried the man as she scooped his friend up in her arms. "The pills are in his pocket. I know he'll make it with you fly―er... running… him there."
"Thank you, Freakazoid!, we'll take him from here. Going by his condition and the pills you gave us, unless he took something else we don't know about, he should make it."
"Thank goodness," panted the hero as she leaned against the wall in the emergency room.
"Hey, you look pretty worn out. You need to rest before going back out there. If you follow the signs to the cafeteria down that hall, make the second right past it, and go through the Hall of Donors, you'll get to the courtyard. You should go there, it's quiet and really nice.
O
Annoyance and fatigue both clear in her posture, Panacea stepped out of the hospital staff showers and stomped to the nearest stairwell. After nine hours straight of healing college students too stupid to avoid literally killing themselves—and to a lesser extent, innocent victims of said stupidity—she was taking a fucking break. Nine hours of being sprayed with various body fluids, blood being the least objectionable of them. When the nurse came over with the last patient and said he'd die without her help, she'd very nearly said, "Good," and gone home. A smile briefly alit on her face as she imagined what Carol's reaction would have been to that.
But no, she had to do the responsible thing and save people's lives. Well, even she had her limits, she thought as she made her way to the ground floor. She was going to her little green island of peace and tranquility in the hospital, and nothing short of an Endbringer attack was going to keep her from it and a full hour of relaxation.
O
"Ah, this is nice," Freakzoid! sighed as she leaned back on the stone bench and stretched. Taking a deep breath of the air laden with the spicy fragrance of the bushes and small trees in the quiet courtyard, she relaxed and let her thoughts wander freely.
"Being a superhero is great… Stopping crime, beating the bad guys, helping people in need—it's all wonderful… I mean, even on days like this, when I'm not fighting criminals or saving people from burning buildings or anything, I'm still doing good. It's a good feeling, like a warm glow inside.
"But… can my entire existence be helping others? Is there nothing for Freakazoid! herself? Shouldn't there be someone there specifically for me? Someone to share in my victories? To comfort me after setbacks? Someone to be kidnapped by villains, that I can rush to save for personal reasons... I need something more."
Panacea pushed open the door and stepped into the safe haven of her courtyard.
"I need a girlfriend!" exclaimed Freakazoid!.
Panacea turned around and walked right back into the hospital.
"No, Panacea! Amy! Wait!" cried Freakazoid! as she followed after. "We'd be perfect together! Think of all the fun things we could do! Holding hands. Kissing! Going for long walks. Kissing! Watching scary movies together. Kissing! Patrolling the city for evildoers and people in need. Kissing! Having romantic dinners. Kissing! Pissing off your parents by being a couple. Kissing!"
"No. No. Leave me alone," recited Panacea in a monotone as she walked on. "No. Please go away. No. Wait, what was that last one?"
"Kissing!"
"The one before that!"
"Pissing off your parents by being a couple?"
"Ok," said Panacea, stopping and thinking for a moment, "I'm willing to give this a shot..."
"I have the feeling I'm being used here…" remarked Freakazoid!. "But I can live with that!"
I walked through the front door in a daze. My alter ego had a girlfriend. My alter ego had a girlfriend! I didn't have a girlfriend! I'd never even had a girlfriend! But she did! How?! I don't—! Words fail me. It was time to resort to other methods.
Bonk.
Bonk.
Bonk.
"What's going on in here?" Dad demanded as he rushed into the living room. "Taylor! Stop banging your head against the wall! Are you on Bleep?!"
I stepped back from the wall and turned to him. "Am I what?"
"On Bleep—that new drug the Merchants are pushing."
"Oh. No, I'm clean, Dad," I assured him before turning back towards the wall, now with an additional reason to bang my head against it.
"Taylor, no! Talk to me, kiddo, please. What's wrong?"
I sighed and faced him again. "Just typical teenage antics. Matters of the heart. Things like that."
"Come on, let's have a seat on the couch." Once we'd sat down, he put a hand on my shoulder. "Romance is confusing and frustrating for all of us, especially when we're young. Sometimes you'll have feelings for someone but they're not reciprocated. Or the other way around. Or maybe you'll fall for someone you never imagined you would in your wildest dreams. And sometimes, things will seem like they're going great, but then it'll all fall apart…"
"Thanks, Dad, I don't feel confused and frustrated any more. Now I'm depressed."
"That's not what I was trying to do. I just meant that we all go through confusing and frustrating times when we're young, but I have no doubt that someday, you'll find someone who's right for you and who you're right for. And whoever that ends up being, I will support and accept you fully, because you're my daughter and I love you."
I flushed at his words. What was he doing? The covenant clearly states that we don't say things like that—wait a second. 'Someone', 'whoever', promises of unconditional support and acceptance… I frowned at him. "You know I'm gay," I accused. Crap! Why the hell did I say that?! What if he doesn't!
"Taylor, as head of hiring for the Dockworkers, I need to be an expert judge of a person's character and the nuances of their—"
"Yeah, right. Who told you?"
His lips quirked upwards slightly. "Your mother did."
I nervously glanced around. "Like, in your dreams or do you just hear her voice when you're making breakfast…?"
Dad sighed. "Taylor, she told me in the beginning of 2008."
"What?! I didn't even know then!"
"She had suspicions for a while, but she said she knew for sure when we saw that show, Dance of the Desert. Apparently, you were completely focused on the women dancers and barely spared a glance for the men."
"Nice try, Dad. You know very well there weren't any guys in that show. Dad! Stop laughing! There weren't! ...were there? You can stop laughing now! … Dad? Are you ok?"
O
Cheeks burning, I turned off the monitor and undocked my phone. I had learned two things during my impromptu research session: first, Dance of the Desert had twenty male dancers in its cast; second, belly dancers are the hottest thing ever. Seeing them in person? Yeah, it's no wonder I was totally enthralled back then, even if I didn't quite understand why…
Hmmm, I wonder if Dance is coming back to Brockton Day anytime soon… no, never mind. Dad would never let me live it down if I saw it again after today's conversation. And speaking of Dad, I suppose if he was right about the show he could be right about the whole finding someone thing… That doesn't mean I don't want a girlfriend, even if she isn't Miss Right, but I guess it's not the end of the world that my stupid alter ego got one first. Stupid extroverted alter ego…