Ok, let's think things over. The Simurgh manipulated events (and people) for over a year to make me become Freakazoid! to make her boyfriend, other-Earth Steven Spielberg happy. Yes, yes, I know, that raises so many other questions, but we're going to ignore them for now. Oh, and Steven said he's a big fan. So, from that we can gather what? The Simurgh made me into a hero she knew Steven would love and then streamed my antics to him?
I frowned and took a sip of syrup. ACK! That wasn't my glass!
"That's Taylor's personal syrup bottle now," Emma warned everyone.
"Sorry… I was distracted. I'm just going to go think on the porch for a bit."
"You know you can talk to me if anything's bothering you, Taylor," Dad said with a concerned look on his face.
"I know," I said, shooting him a brief smile as I stepped out onto the porch and had a seat.
Now, where was I? Oh, right, the Simurgh spending years to make me into a reality show for Steven. No, that doesn't feel quite right… I mean, that much time and effort just to make a hero he'd enjoy watching? So, that leaves, hmmm… making me into Freakazoid! specifically? Why would she want to make a specific hero for him? Wait! Steven Spielberg, the movie guy! What if she wanted to bring one of his favorite characters to life!
Ok, does this make sense? The Simurgh falls for Steven. Instead of buying him some chocolate, she twists and torments people on another Earth to bring one of his characters to life. When the time is right, she brings Freakazoid! into orbit and opens a portal so Steven can meet the living, breathing hero.
"But, no…" I muttered, drumming my fingers, "she's a master planner and can maybe even see the future; why would she upset Steven with the torment and all? Unless it was intentional, so she could show Steven that she was willing to correct her mistakes and that she was trying to be a better … Endbringer. Wow… that's so—wait, why am I talking aloud about this like an idiot?"
I quickly looked around to make sure no one was around. "Ok," I said quietly, "If you really can predict what people will do, you've seen this moment. Give me a sign if I'm righ—"
O
"Oh, Taylor," sighed Mrs. Barnes as she laid a damp cloth on my forehead, "this just isn't your week."
"What happened?" I groaned.
Emma held up a wooden plaque with the name 'Barnes' burned into it. "This came loose from over the door and fell on your head."
"Oh. Ow. You know, that sign falling off like that kind of sounds like negligence. Maybe I should find myself a lawyer…"
"I'll represent you, Taylor."
"Thank you, Mr. Barnes. So, how's our case look?"
"We haven't got a chance."
"Damn."
"Taylor, could we talk in the den?" Mr. Barnes asked, the next afternoon.
That's right, this 'cabin' has a den. And a living room, kitchen, three bedrooms… But no computer, of course. Some people really need to sort out their priorities.
"Sure," I said, and we walked past the breathtaking view of the wooded mountains and the lake to the den. Don't worry, it isn't the lake Freakazoid! landed in. I took a seat as Mr. Barnes headed to the bar. "Is this about our case?"
"Sorry, it's still hopeless. Would you like a drink?"
"Bourbon, please, neat."
"Here you go," he said a moment later as he placed a Coke down by me.
I took a sip and savored the taste. "Ah, an excellent year. Thank you."
He smiled at me as he sat down then took a sip of his own drink. "Taylor, I'd like to thank you for everything you've done for Emma. It's really helped her a lot."
I shook my head. "Mr. Barnes, you don't have to thank someone for being a friend."
He looked at me for a moment, smiled faintly, and gave his head a little shake. "I guess you're right. In that case, let me say I'm thankful that Emma has a friend like you. And I'd like to ask you a favor."
Wait, a favor? Maybe I should have let him thank me for being Emma's friend. No… he didn't have to take us out here … away from my phone and the internet … to his beautiful cabin and pour liquid chocolate down my throat. "Uh, a favor? What is it?"
"A kind or helpful act, but that's not important right now."
Damnit! I can't believe I walked into that.
He grinned, then continued more seriously, "I'm concerned about Emma starting at a new school without any friends to support her. Would you be willing to go to the Thorndyke Academy with her?"
What? "Um… I'd love to, but we can't really afford that."
"Since you'd be attending to help Emma, I'd make up the difference beyond anything you could comfortably afford."
I sighed and shook my head. "Mr. Barnes, I appreciate the offer, really I do, but you don't owe me anything for being Emma's friend, and honestly, it'd make me really uncomfortable if it seemed like I was being paid to be her friend. And I don't want you paying my tuition because you feel guilty for what Madison made Emma do, either. So, thank you, but I'm going to have to decline." I managed to keep that whimper at the thought of choosing to go back to Winslow silent, right?
"Taylor, I would never consider paying someone to be Emma's friend. No one needs that sort of friendship." He swirled his drink and stared off into the distance for a moment. "I admit I did feel guilty for a while about not noticing how Emma had changed so much, but… she kept up appearances very well at home. And I can't help thinking that if I had noticed and tried to make her change her behavior, maybe she would have invited her 'friend' Madison to sleep over one night…"
I swallowed and took a sip of my soda.
"How do I know that didn't happen," Mr. Barnes added quietly. He gave himself a little shake. "No, Taylor, I'm not making this offer out of guilt. You are Emma's oldest and closest friend and have been at her side for years; you honestly feel more like a niece to me than a friend of my daughter's. I'm offering to help you go to a good school because you deserve it and because I can. And I am serious about wanting Emma to have her best friend with her when she starts at a new school. I don't want her to be alone among strangers after what she's been through."
"I …" I quickly took another sip of my soda. "Are you sure?" He nodded. "I… well, thank you, then. I'll have to ask my father…"
"I've already talked to Danny about this. He said if you agreed, he was good with it. Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go tell Emma the good news."
I just nodded dumbly. What do you even say to something like this? Still, I could feel a smile growing on my face.
O
Home! We were going home! The ordeal of my horrible separation from my preciousss would soon come to an end! And I could finally go back to being Freakazoid!, beloved hero of Brockton Bay...
Forty troopers equipped with containment foam sprayers stood in formation in a yard behind the PRT ENE building as their commander addressed them.
"Ok, remember, even though Freakazoid! apparently destroyed the Simurgh, she may have fallen under her influence first, so if you see her, foam her immediately. We'll sort things out once she's safely contained. Now, we're going to be scouring the city for her in teams of eight, according to your assigned sectors. It's not like she's going to just pop up in front of us and say hello, after all…"
There was a long pause.
"I told you it wouldn't work, McKenzie. You owe me ten—"
"Hello!" exclaimed Freakazoid! from the middle of the formation.
The troopers instantly turned and leveled their containment foam sprayers at the hero. Her eyes widened, and she only had time to get out a single word before they fired.
O
Assault walked into the briefing room containing most of the other Protectorate ENE heroes and sat next to Battery. "So," he said cheerfully, "I hear Freakazoid! got away but we managed to catch You-Know-Who."
"We captured Voldemort?" Director Piggot asked, voice dripping sarcasm, from the front of the room.
"Uh, no… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Assault paused and frowned. "You know, the creepy supernatural guy. … Um, the one with the sack over his head."
"His official designation is CJ."
"Ohhh… because it's short for—"
Assault's words were cut short as Battery smacked the back of his head.
"Thank you," Piggot said with a nod to Battery, followed by a glare at Assault. "CJ is currently being questioned by Armsmaster in a secure interrogation room."
Assault nodded. "Good. One question, though—why didn't we lure him into a trap by having someone say his name?"
"It was considered but deemed too dangerous without knowing more about his powers. If he didn't show up immediately, would we be extending an open invitation for him to teleport to the person who said his name anywhere, at any time?"
Assault shivered. "Yes, I can see how that would be a problem…"
O
Armsmaster glared at the villain securely bound to the chair before him. "Where are the people you abducted?"
"You'll never find them!" laughed Candlejack, "They're in a place no one would dare to go!"
"We've found them!" cried a trooper rushing into the room, "They're in New Jersey!"
"I knew I shouldn't have given them wifi..." grumbled the villain.
"New Jersey?" asked Armsmaster.
"Yes, sir, in a cave in the Pine Barrens, from what we're reading on PHO."
"Good luck getting to them!" laughed Candlejack, "They're being guarded by—The Jersey Devil!"
"Thank you for the warning. We'll be sure to send a large team."
The villain muttered for a moment before smirking. "Do you really think you can hold me? All it takes is one careless person saying my name and I'm out of here."
Armsmaster nodded. "We've already thought of that and devised a tinker-tech countermeasure." With those words, he pulled out a pair of pink fuzzy earmuffs and slapped them onto Candlejack's head.
"What?!" cried Candlejack. "Did someone say something?! Was that my name? It was the stupid cowboy kid from PHO, wasn't it?!"
In the Pine Barrens of New Jersey, the members of a three person team of a larger Protectorate task force quietly made their way through the trees, pausing as they spotted a red, hulking humanoid figure standing at the bank of a river. Carefully moving back into the trees, two of them peered at the figure while the other, a cape in a black and white outfit, quietly activated his comm.
"This is Refman, we've spotted the Jersey Devil…"
"My God, he's huge!" whispered Moonspark as he eyed the red figure, "And look at those blades. We're lucky it isn't winter or we'd be done for… Be careful not to give away our—Brawler?"
"What the hell?!" cried the Bayonne Brawler, flying up to the Devil. "Why aren't they putting you on the ice?! We'd be unstoppable!" A second later, the roaring Devil slammed an oversized hockey stick into the hero, sending him hurtling away.
"We need immediate assistance!" Moonspark cried into his comm as Refman rushed toward the Devil while blowing a whistle and holding up a yellow card. "Please hurry!" he added as Refman took a giant puck to the stomach and folded over.
O
"Dinah!" cried the woman as she rushed to the girl being escorted into the waiting area by a PRT trooper.
"Mom!" Dinah ran forward and hugged her mother tightly.
"I was so worried about you! Are you all right? They said you weren't hurt, but oh sweetie, what have you been through?"
"It was great! I had tons of fun, made lots of friends, and learned valuable skills!"
Dinah's mother leaned back slightly and peered at her daughter. "Sweetie?"
"Oh! And I won the foosball tournament! First prize was a $25 Drunken Donuts gift card!"
"Only because there wasn't a rule against spinning…" muttered a teenage boy walking past.
"99.9% chance you're a sore loser."
"Sweetie?"
Armsmaster waited impatiently in his office in the PRT building. It was a shame he couldn't perform the debriefing in his workshop, where he felt most comfortable and did his best thinking, but it really wasn't suitable as a meeting place. Suppressing a sigh, he walked across the room and opened the window, inhaling the bracing sea air before returning to his chair. Well, if he was going to be here a while, he could at least go over his notes for the latest revision to his—ah, of course, now the commander arrived.
"Commander Wesson, please give me the preliminary report on CJ's base."
"Yes, sir. The base is a modern facility hidden in a cave system at the previously transmitted coordinates. Designed to house upwards of a hundred people, it consists primarily of residential and manufacturing areas."
"Manufacturing?"
"Yes, the facility's function appears to be to house prisoners who would assemble consumer products designed for sale to the general public."
"CJ was abducting people to work in a sweatshop?" Armsmaster asked incredulously.
"The nicest sweatshop in the world, apparently," replied the commander. "The workers had access to a gym, swimming pool, game room, cafeteria, and a small Drunken Donuts franchise."
Armsmaster stared at the commander for a long moment. "And what is the condition of the … workers?"
"Excellent, with the exception of one young man who is being treated for bruises and a fractured arm."
Armsmaster scowled. "What did that fiend CJ do to him?"
"Actually, his injuries were suffered at the hands of a few of his fellow prisoners who discovered he's Void Cowboy on PHO."
"It's a wonder they didn't kill him…" Armsmaster quietly remarked to himself.
Deciding not to acknowledge that observation, Commander Wesson continued with her report. "As for the other prisoners, two appear to be mercenaries who were in the employ of the villain Coil. They are in custody on charges of having been in the process of abducting one of the other prisoners, Dinah Alcott, when they were all captured by CJ."
"Interesting… And what was he forcing his prisoners to produce?"
"These, sir," answered the commander, as she reached into the bag at her side and placed an object on the desk.
"That monster!" cried Armsmaster as he picked up the Armsmaster action figure and carefully examined it. "This is higher quality than the official PRT merchandise—and according to the tag, he's undercutting us, to boot!"
"There's more," Commander Wesson said grimly as she reached into the bag again.
O
Vista muttered to herself as she stomped through the hall of the PRT building. Once again, she, the youngest member of the Protectorate ENE, had to be the bigger person. It was so very tempting to push the Youth Guard to keep putting the screws to Armsmaster, the leader of the local branch of the Protectorate, who was clearly less mature than she was, but someone here had to be professional, and apparently, that someone was her. Again.
Okay, she may have lost her temper briefly when she first saw that horrible video, but that was completely understandable. The therapists and the Youth Guard representatives had made it very clear that she was the victim there and lashing out in the heat of the moment was completely understandable. Armsmaster's cowardly refusal to own up to his behavior and apologize like an adult, or even be in the same room with her, on the other hand, was not. So, now it was time for her to be the grown-up, track down the man, and force him to act mature.
Grumbling one last time, Vista took a deep breath, walked into his office, and stopped dead in her tracks. Armsmaster's desk was covered with various Protectorate hero action figures, and in the place of honor in the center stood four Vista figures, each with a number from one to four stitched on the back of the costume. In the absolute silence that had fallen on the room, her eyes fell on the promotional display bearing a picture of a Vista figure with the number five on her back and the words "Coming Soon!" printed above it in large letters.
"Wait! It's not—" exclaimed Armsmaster as he stood and took a step toward her, only to vanish mid-word. A moment later, a plume of water in the distant bay was faintly visible through the window. Turning on her heel, Vista stormed out of the room, ignoring the trooper who was carefully remaining motionless by the desk.
O
Armsmaster sat on the bottom of the bay, his armor operating in full underwater mode. Breathing deeply and steadily, he savored the serene setting, having decided to fully appreciate this moment of solitude, away from the responsibilities of his position and the stress of dealing with the public and his coworkers, people who were much harder to handle than villains. Yes, it was really quite nice here, in the cool, dim waters of the bay.
He felt the ever-present tension slowly drain from his muscles as he watched a curious fish approach the strange metal man that had fallen into its world. Fish were much better than angry, uncontrolled children who used their power over the fabric of space to send him places against his will. Perhaps he would spend the night here.
Suddenly, his suit produced a soft trilling sound, sending the fish darting away. Someone was calling him, on the phone, rather than his official radio. That meant it wasn't the console or official orders. Could someone be … personally concerned about his sudden disappearance? He felt a warm sensation in his chest. Maybe he had a better relationship with his coworkers than he'd thought...
"Armsmaster," he stated, answering his phone.
"Hem hem."