Dealing - 10

<-Previous
~*~
I was angry with Anna--but not because she hadn't told me about Philip. The whole Synap thing had thrown me off; the notion that she was so desperate to have powers that she'd take some sort of weird chemical that could have killed her...

Well, maybe I wasn't one to talk.

Still.

I checked up on Anna to make sure she was okay near the end of the day. Then I got her to come with me back to my house.

"Sumerset'll pick me up," I told her. "We can talk to him then."

She wasn't thrilled about that idea.

We hadn't even settled into the backseat of the Tank before I launched right into it.

"There's a psychic at school," I told Sumerset. "He's been trying to pressure Anna into giving him some sort of drug. Synap, it's called."

"Mmm." Sumerset didn't sound surprised.

"So, right. What do we do?" I asked.

Sumerset started up the car. "Hey, Anna."

Anna was doing her best to shrivel up into a tiny speck in the backseat. "Um, yes?"

"Last night, when you called Sue. You told her to turn on the TV. Why?"

I turned to Anna, then back to Sumerset. "What's this got to do with anything?"

"Let me work, kid."

"I--I saw the prison break on TV," she said. "I thought it was important."

"Couple of class 3 criminals breaking out of prison--nothing new. It happens," Sumerset said. "No reason to be concerned, or to call Sue. Not unless you happen to know that the prison in question is also where they kept Scourge."

Anna got very quiet.

"Of course you couldn't have known that," Sumerset said. "That's a highly classified bit of trivia right there. Not many folks have access to it."

Now I was staring at Anna. "...what's going on?"

Anna didn't say anything--she just stared at her shoes. Meanwhile, Sumerset picked up the slack: "Did some research on little Miss Spencer. I can see why she's so tight-lipped. Her parents are interesting folks."

I reached out to touch her shoulder. She pulled away.

"Father's a plumber," Sumerset said. "Navy man. Seems like a decent fella, kind of guy I'd have a beer with. Her mom, though... Ho boy."

"No one's supposed to know about that," Anna said, her voice low and defensive.

"She's under Federal protection now," he said. "Was a gearhead back in the day."

"Gearhead?" I asked.

"Nickname they give for someone who ain't a power, but can fight like one on account of their gear," Sumerset said. "Pretty rare, on account of the government reproducing all the tech they get ahold of. Every so often though--you'll see a piece of machinery they can't replicate, or someone'll manage to make something and keep it a secret for a good long while. In Anna's case, her mom got ahold of a set of gloves..."

"I was going to tell you," Anna said, interrupting. She turned to me, wringing her hands together. "I just--"

"Jeez, Anna," I said. "Why all the secrecy? My mom was a cape--what, you thought I wouldn't trust you because yours was too?"

"Her mom wasn't a cape," Sumerset said.

"Huh?"

"Her mom was a super-villain," he said.

For a while, I just gaped at the back of Sumerset's head. And then, ever so slowly, I turned back to Anna.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," she said, looking back down at her feet again. "She was a mercenary. Did a lot of--did a lot of bad things. My dad, he never wanted me to have anything to do with her. But she sends me things, every so often. We still talk online."

"She ain't supposed to talk to you," Sumerset said. "Ain't supposed to talk to anyone. Federal protection program explicitly forbids any communication with relatives."

"Well, she does," Anna said, her voice climbing. "And she's never done me any wrong!"

"She's done plenty wrong to others," he said.

"Sumerset," I said. "Lay off, okay?"

"This is need-to-fucking-know information, Sue. You know what her mother could do to you if she found out who you are? If Anna blabbed--"

"I wouldn't do that!" Anna said.

I put my hand on Anna's shoulder. It seemed to calm her down. She looked to me, her eyes pleading. "Sue--I wouldn't--you believe me, right? I would never tell anyone about you, or any of this stuff."

"I know, Anna," I said.

Sumerset cleared his throat. "Right," he said. "Okay. Just so we're clear. Information like this? It's shit you need to tell us. Keeping secrets like this doesn't do anyone any favors."

"Okay," Anna said, her voice meek.

"What are we going to do about Philip?" I asked.

"You're gonna tell me everything that happened," he said. "Then we'll contact the authorities and get that dealt with. But meanwhile, we've got another fish to fry."

"What's that?"

"Epoch contacted me," he said. "They want to meet the Skull. In person."

~*~
Next->

Dealing - 9

<-Previous
~*~
We ended up in the bathroom. After I made sure no one was in there with us, I checked the door and turned to Anna.

"Spill," I said.

"He's a power."

"Yeah, I kinda figured that out around the stage where he mind-controlled me," I said. "What does he want? Why isn't he, like--why isn't he under surveillance, or getting registered, or--"

"You aren't doing any of those things," she said, though her tone was reserved.

"I'm not using my powers on other students!" I said, trying to keep my voice under control. A moment afterward and I realized a crucial flaw in my premise. "Okay, I'm trying not to use my powers on other students. Anna--this guy--he can't do this sort of thing. What does he want from you?"

Anna squirmed with discomfort, looking for an easy exit. I didn't give her one. "He wants me to get him something," she said.

"Can he read minds?"

"No," she said. "Just give out commands, and--make people do things. Sometimes he can scramble brains, confuse people. Make you forget something you just saw."

"Okay," I said. "So he doesn't know--wait. Why hasn't he just controlled you? Made you get him whatever it is he wants?"

"I have defenses," she said, flushing with color.

"...defenses?" I said. "You aren't--wait, Anna, you aren't a power, are you?"

"No," she said. "God, no. But, uh," she looked around, as if worried someone might be listening in. "My mother is involved in that sort of stuff."

I stared at her. "Your parents... Are they capes?"

"No," she said, and a look of exhaustion settled across her face. "It's complicated, okay? What's important here is that Philip wants something I'm not giving him."

"And what is that?"

"It's called Synap. Syn for short. Have you ever heard of it?"

"Like... synapse?"

"Yeah. It's--it's not illegal yet, but nobody's supposed to have it," she said, her voice dropping lower. "They're gonna make it illegal soon, I'm pretty sure. Powers take it. It makes them go haywire. Take enough of it, and you can develop whole new abilities."

"Why does he want it?"

"He's a psychic, but he's not very powerful," she said. "If he went and got registered--he'd be, like--not enough to get into the cape business, you know? He couldn't really do anything with it. Maybe some government work... but he wants to, like, be a celebrity. Thinks if he takes enough of it--"

"He'll go all Xavier," I said.

"Yeah."

"Great. So exactly why do you have this stuff?" I asked, my eyes narrowing.

There was a sound at the door; we both froze a moment, turning to it. Whoever was about to step in apparently had second thoughts. I turned back to Anna, waiting expectantly.

She was as red as a turnip.

"Well?" I said.

"I--um. I made some of it, once. A while back. And I might have asked him... to help me get some of the ingredients. His dad's a chemist, and--"

If I had heat-vision, I imagine I'd have been boring a hole through her skull. "Why did you make some of it?"

"Because--because I wanted to become a power."

I folded my arms across my chest. "And did you?"

"No," she said, and she looked like she was on the verge of tears. "It was stupid--the stuff can kill you if you're not a power. Heck, even some powers who take it end up dying--but I was really miserable, and I thought--"

"It's okay. I'm sorry," I said, reaching out to touch her arm. "I'm just worried."

"What are we going to do?" she asked, wringing her hands.

"We'll talk to Sumerset," I said. "He'll know."

~*~
Next->

Dealing - 8

<-Previous
~*~
The next day I went back to school while Sumerset contacted Epoch.

Anna cornered me at some point in the cafeteria and started pestering me with questions.

"Did you see it?" she said. "It's just like in the comic books! Your nemesis, out and--"

"Anna," I said, "it might not be a good idea to talk about this sort of thing aloud here, y'know?" That was partially true--but I also wanted a break. Weird things were happening in my life, and I just wanted things to be normal for a little while. At least at school.

"Okay," she said, shuffling awkwardly in her chair as she dropped down to the table next to me. "So, uh--what else should we talk about?"

Awkward silence.

"Right," she said. "So, do you have any plans on how to deal with this guy?"

"Ugh," I said. "Don't you, like, have any other interests? Do you like cars? I kinda like cars," I said. "We could talk about cars."

"Cars? Seriously? Bo-ring," she said. "Think jetpacks."

"A jetpack would be kind of cool," I had to admit. "I could be all like: 'That's right. I've got a jetpack, bitches.' Then, fwoosh."

Anna laughed, and opened her mouth to say something, but she was suddenly cut off.

"Hey, sugar," an all-too-familiar voice rumbled. "Mind if I borrow you from your 'boyfriend' for a moment?"

Philip Darden. Two hundred pounds of jackass stuffed into a hundred and sixty pound bag. He and Anna seemed to have some sort of history; I should have asked about it, but it had slipped my mind.

"Um," Anna began, squirming uncomfortably. "Well, I kinda--"

"She's busy," I said, turning to face him. I didn't like him--and I especially didn't like the way he talked to Anna. "Why don't you go find yourself a cure for being a jerk, honeysweet pumpkincheeks?"

Philip wasn't expecting that. He gave a start, followed by Anna smothering a giggle. "...excuse me?" he said.

"I'm sorry. Do you mind if I call you honeysweet pumpkincheeks?" I said. "You kind of look like a honeysweet pumpkincheeks to me."

Philip grinned. "I bet everyone looks that way when you're Bruce Banner, huh?"

I felt something tug inside of me; then Anna touched my shoulder. I turned to her. "This guy's a creep, Anna. Let's just go."

"Maybe you should go," Philip said.

Probably, I thought. I was just causing trouble, and it was clear that this wasn't my business. Anna and Philip obviously had some sort of past; it'd be best to let them sort it out. I picked up my tray and started walking away. Maybe they were still serving fries, and--

Wait.

What?

I caught myself half-way across the cafeteria, tray in hand, my back to Anna and Philip. What the hell was I doing? Anna clearly didn't want to talk to the guy. Why the hell was I walking away?

I turned back around only to see Philip sitting where I had been, grinning as he talked with Anna--who was shrinking back in her chair with obvious terror. When I started coming back, I saw her eyes shine with desperate hope.

"Th'hell you want?" Philip asked.

I ignored him and looked at Anna.

"Stand up," I told her. "Come over to me."

"Maybe you should--" Philip began.

Never gave him the chance to finish. My knee hit the table, shoving it forward and to the left. It met him straight in the stomach--suddenly, he was gasping for breath as he bent over his tray. It was quick enough--and subtle enough--not to draw attention.

Anna took the opportunity, leaping to her feet and darting to my side.

"You little--" he started, still gasping for breath.

"Sue smash," I replied, and then I gave the table's leg a good, hard kick.

Metal clanked. The whole thing jerked back with an attention-drawing creak--and Philip was pushed away, falling backwards and landing on the ground with a loud kra-kow.

Now everyone was staring--but there was nothing to stare at. The moment my foot swung forward, I grabbed Anna by the arm and was pulling her away--as far as everyone could see, Philip had just leaned too far back and ended up dropping on the floor. I heard laughter and cheers surging up behind me.

But none of that concerned me.

"Please start talking," I told Anna. "Really fast. Because I'm pretty sure that asshole nearly managed to mind-control me."

~*~
Next->

Dealing - 7

<-Previous
~*~
We put the TV on the computer view screen. A 10 foot tall Spongebob Squarepants appeared before us, singing and dancing about krabby patties.

Sumerset flipped the screen to the nearest news channel. A night-time image of a building appeared, one side of it currently engulfed in smoke and flame.

"Oh God," Sumerset said, his voice low.

"--are missing," the anchor said off-screen. "Again, if you are just tuning in, we're seeing an explosion at Morgrim Maximum Security Penitentiary--and initial reports are that several Class 3 criminals are currently unaccounted for."

"Oh, God, no," Sumerset repeated.

"Class 3 criminals?" I asked.

"Powers fall into classifications," he said. "Class 5 is the lowest--your Sharkfaces. Class 1s are the untouchables--Blink, Sovereign, maybe Arsenal on a ridiculously good day. Class 3s--well, kid, you're probably a Class 4. At best."

"And so what--some class 3 criminals escaped a prison? Why is that a big deal?"

"That's where they were keeping Scourge," he said. "Under strict lock down. No one even knew that he was there."

I thought for a moment. "He's a class 3 too?"

"Last time I saw him, maybe," Sumerset said, staring at the screen. "He might be higher, now. He had a nasty way of acquiring more power as he went along."

"So, what? I think Anna mentioned his name, once--something about him being my parents' nemesis. Disappeared in the eighties, right?"

"Yeah. Your dad threw him to the dogs," he said. "Beat the snot out of him and threw him to the Cape-Busters. He didn't take it well."

"Okay. So--"

"So, he probably saw the newscast of your return," Sumerset said. "Only explanation. Too convenient otherwise. He probably broke out to get to you."

"...why? I mean, that was twenty years ago, right? Does he really think I'm the same Skull? Is he really that obsessive about getting revenge?"

"It's not revenge he wants," Sumerset said. "It's the Skull Formula."

"Huh?"

"Scourge collects powers like other people collect those creepy hobo clown statues," Sumerset said. "He steals anything and everything he can get--technology, magic, people's powers--and uses it to augment himself. He ain't even a power, or at least, he wasn't when he first started. Everything he has--it's a result of something he did to himself."

"But all the Skull formula gives you is--"

"Strength, agility, and regenerative capabilities," Sumerset said. "That last part is important. People who drink the Skull Formula--well, girl, no one knows how old you could grow to, because nobody who took the formula lived long enough to die of old age. But nobody who ever took it aged a day past adulthood."

Oh. Well.

That was nice to know.

"So he wants it so he'll live longer?"

"That, and the rest of the powers don't hurt either," he said. "The strength and agility--well, you'll see. Once we start you on some real training."

"Real training?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said. "With the Scourge out there, hunting for you--you need to know how to defend yourself. And now we know what to contact Epoch about."

"Why can't I just lay low?" I asked.

"You will. You're not putting the costume on," Sumerset said. "But starting today, I'm going to show you how to really do some damage. Just in case."

~*~
Next->

Dealing - 6

<-Previous
~*~
"She just disappeared," I said.

Sumerset was at the computer, typing away. I was still staring at my hands--still slick with her blood. I'd never seen so much of it before. Frankly, I was surprised I hadn't freaked out.

I was kind of freaking out now, though.

"Yeah," he said. "I got that much. Looking up 'The Mulligan'. He's a registered cape."

"She said something about--something about getting things right this time," I said, and then I shivered. "God. What--what was this all about, Sumerset? I don't understand. How could she--how did she get here? Why?"

"You want to know the second rule?" he said, continuing to type.

"Huh?"

"The first rule of fighting is that everyone is a threat and that every fight is for your life," he said. "Do you want to know the second rule?"

"I--guess so?"

"Inevitably, you'll be confronted with situations you don't understand, circumstances you can't comprehend. You got two choices: Freak the fuck out or accept and deal. The second rule is just that: Always pick option 2. Adapt or die. No matter what happens, deal with it."

I continued to stare at my bloody hands. After a while, I headed off to wash them in the sink. When I got back, Sumerset was leaning back in his chair and smoking a cigarette.

"Can't access the Agency's files on the Mulligan," he said. "Since we ain't registered ourselves. So I don't know any details about the Mulligan, beyond what I could pick up from some research."

I glanced at the computer screen. "...is that a wikipedia page?"

He closed the tab. "No," he said. "It isn't."

"Right," I said. "So, what do we know?"

"Hardly anything. Except that he operates nearby--in the city, actually. He's part of a small crew of registered capes. Call themselves 'Epoch'."

"Okay," I said. "How do we contact him?"

"He doesn't have any contact info, but there's a contact for the team. We can get in touch with them."

"And, like, what? Just drop them a line? 'Oh, hey, some girl teleported into my top secret bunker with a pound of lead in her belly and told me I should keep in touch with you guys. Then she disappeared'."

"We'll tell them the Skull wants to talk to them," he said. "Tell them there's a new possible threat rearing its head."

"But--there isn't," I said.

"Isn't there?" he said. "That girl seems to have thought so. And she was right about the Inspector Gadget thing, remember?"

I stiffened, suddenly recalling what Mrs. Donovan had said. "A blind girl."

"Right. Probably the same person," he said. "Anyway, we'll get in contact with them. No harm in being prepared."

"Prepared for what? We don't even know what's coming," I said.

And then my phone started to ring.

It was Anna. As soon as I brought it up to my ear, she cut me off.

"Turn on your television," she said. "Right now."

~*~
Next->

Dealing - 5

<-Previous
~*~
By the time I felt comfortable with my punches, Sumerset was greeting the delivery man at the front door. I'd soon discover his idea of 'making dinner' consisted of a phone book and a twenty dollar bill.

We discussed sleeping arrangements over hot wings and soda.

I expected things to be a little awkward--what with him taking over as my temporary guardian--but really, it wasn't. Maybe it was because I knew that my mother had trusted him with her life--so I instinctively trusted him too.

"How many people with powers have you heard of that didn't--you know--go into caping?" I asked him.

"Actually, a good number," he replied. "Folks don't need a costume to make a fortune these days. If you can shoot lightning out of your eyes, chances are someone'll have a use for you. One that doesn't involve electrocuting criminals. And often, they'll pay big."

"So why do people get into the whole 'villain' business?" I asked. "I mean, crap, Sharkface could have gotten a job as--I don't know--one of those professional power wrestlers or something."

"You mean the Powered Wrestling Federation?" he said. "Yeah, a lot of powers get into that sort of thing. Not everyone can make it in, though. Plus, it's a prestige thing--y'know, the PWF is mostly fake. All the matches are decided ahead of time."

"Seriously?" I said.

"It's more theatre than anything," he said. "Not that I'm harping on the guys who do it--it's a hell of job. But some powers feel as if they're being put on parade. Like they're part of a freakshow."

"Maybe I should get into it. Easy money, right?"

"I hope you're joking. Besides, they don't have a women's league. And you're too young. And your mother would claw her way out of her grave just to kill me."

"So why didn't--"

Before I could finish my thought, I heard the telltale screech of a smoke alarm. I turned around to try and catch the source of the sound--in an instant, Sumerset was on his feet, holding his cane out in front of him like a sword.

"Huh? What's up?" I asked. "It's just--"

"It's the bunker alarm," he said. "Somebody's down there."

The alarm cut off. Sumerset lead the way down into the basement; when we got there, he fished a ski mask out of one of the boxes and threw it to me.

"Seriously?" I asked.

"Best to be careful."

"Probably like, a squirrel or something. Probably crawled down there when I came up and I didn't notice it."

"Best to be careful," he repeated.

I put it on as we went down into the bunker. Nothing looked disturbed or out of place--Sumerset immediately went to the computer screen. He typed in a few keystrokes and stared at the security log.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Weird as hell," he said. "Apparently someone tripped a motion sensor in here--without tripping any of the surrounding ones."

"What's that mean?"

"Teleportation, maybe. Or--"

A girl stumbled out of the hallway to our left. She was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, with thick bandages wrapped around her eyes and head. Thick, dark bloodstains had seeped through her shirt at her stomach--she clutched at it with one hand, using the other to hold herself at the door frame.

"Oh holy crap," I said.

"Shit," Sumerset responded, standing up and reaching into his coat. He pulled a gun--it was nearly bigger than my head. I didn't know how the hell he could even fit that thing under his coat.

"She's hurt," I said, reaching for his arm.

"She's in a place she doesn't belong," he replied, his voice low.

The girl groaned and stumbled forward, dropping to her knees. I glared at Sumerset. "Get a medical kit or something, dammit!"

He shoved the gun in my hand. "Don't take off your mask," he told me, and then he disappeared down the hallway.

I turned to the girl. Without giving it much more thought, I moved toward her and pulled off my ski mask. She couldn't possibly see through those bandages--and besides, I could use it to stop the bleeding. I sat the gun down on the ground and knelt next to her.

"Lay down," I told her, trying to help her back. "Can you breathe okay? Let me put pressure on the wound, alright?"

It took me a moment to locate it through all the blood stains. It looked like a bullet had caught her in the lower left rib.

I pressed the ski mask down on the spot, replacing her hands. "We'll get you an ambulance," I told her. "Just keep breathing. Tell me if you're having any trouble with--"

Her hand caught me by my left arm. "You were right," she said.

"Relax," I told her. I wanted to ask her how she got in here--what on earth she was doing--who shot her. But my first priority was to keep her alive, which meant keeping her calm and breathing.

"You were right," she repeated. "I can't stop it--I can't stop anything. But maybe I can--maybe we can--fix things. This time," she said. "This time, maybe we'll get it right."

"Stop talking. Just concentrate on breathing," I said.

"There's one more place I need to be," she said. "One more thing I can possibly do. Maybe it'll be enough. Maybe this time you won't die."

Her other hand snapped out, grabbing Sumerset's gun. I opened my mouth to say something--to shout out a warning--but suddenly, she was awash in a cerulean glow. Sparks of energy crackled around her--she seemed to streak into every direction at once.

I drew my hands away with surprise--a tingle ran up my fingertips. Dimly, I realized she was disappearing.

"Find him," she said. "Find the Mulligan. You'll need our help."

"Who are--" I started, but in a burst of light, she was gone.

Sumerset burst in a moment later, holding the medical kit. All he found was me kneeling in front of a scorch mark with blood on my hands.

"She disappeared," I told him. "And she took your gun."

~*~
Next->

Dealing - 4

<-Previous
~*~
As I didn't have a history of juvenile delinquency, I got off relatively light. Detention for two days, and they called my guardian.

It probably helped that I played up the whole 'aunt-in-the-hospital' card. Implied that I'd been frustrated over that, and under a lot of pressure. Rotten thing to do, but when you're a freak, you do what you have to.

Sumerset picked me up after school in the Tank. He grunted at me as I got into the car--and waited until we were on the road before making a comment.

"So," he says. "First day as your legal guardian and already I'm getting calls from the school. This going to be standard operating procedure?"

"Bad day," I said.

"They making fun of the muscles?"

I turned to him, surprised. "Yeah, actually."

"You're going to get that a lot," he said. "I'll get you out of gym class for now--a few weeks, at least. If anyone asks, you've been working out since that incident with the guy who broke into your house--trying to defend yourself."

"You think people will buy that?"

"You can sell a ketchup popsicle to an eskimo wearing white leather gloves if you know the right angle," he said. "Story makes sense. You just need some time so the muscles don't seem all that sudden."

"They called me the Incredible Hulk," I said, sulking.

"Is that the green one? The guy who gets all angry and starts smashing things?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"You ain't green."

"I'm aware."

Sumerset kept quiet for a while, letting a pause stretch out between us. Then, he spoke again: "Been thinking. Might be a good idea to start you up on some training."

"...training?"

"Yeah," he said. "You know, just standard stuff. You got the muscles, you ought to know how to use them."

"Why?"

"In case you ever get in a fight with someone," he said. "I mean, you don't want to kill anybody, right? But with the punches you're throwing right now--that's a real possibility. Untrained fighters are dangerous as hell--especially when they got fists that can punch through walls."

I thought about it for a little while. I wasn't sure how I felt about it. But I was a little scared--I hadn't meant to throw that boy to the ground. I just wanted to push him back a little.

"Okay," I said.

~*~

We went down into the bunker and headed for the gym.

"So, how's this going to work?" I asked him. "You're going to teach me some sort of jiujitsu?" I made a chopping motion with my hand, half-joking.

"I don't know any of that stuff," he said. "All I know is how to hit people so they don't hit back."

"Did you teach mom?"

He grinned. "A little, yeah."

Once we reached the gym, I ducked into the locker room to change into a tank top and shorts. When I came out, I was surprised to see him taking off his coat and setting his cane aside.

"Wait," I said. "Are you--are you actually going to, like, spar with me?"

"What were you expecting? Can't hardly teach you with words, can I?"

"But--you're like, old," I said. "I could probably snap you in half by sneezing the wrong way."

He stepped in front of me, shrugging his shoulders back. I opened my mouth to say something else--and that's when he hit me.

'Hit' is the wrong word, though. He grabbed my wrist--as if he was about to shake my hand. Then, he twisted his grip around it and pressed his thumb against the back of my palm. With just a push, I felt my entire body instinctively moving with the motion--and instantly, I was crumpling to the floor.

The heel of his foot swung down like an anvil straight for my head.

I raised my other hand to get in the way, but he stopped it before connecting.

"First rule," he said. "Every person is a threat. Every fight is for your life."

He helped me up and started showing me the basics. The first thing he wanted me to get a grip on was the notion that I should have a plan to take down everyone I met--that, instinctively, when I enter a room, I should immediately formulate exit strategies--assess threats--and make decisions about who I should take out and how I should do it.

"Seriously," I said. "You want me to have a plan to take out a classroom of teenagers?"

"You never know," he said.

"And, what? Do you always think that way?"

"Yes," he said.

"So, what--you've got a plan to deal with me if you had to?"

"Yeah."

"And what is it?"

He grinned. "Shoot you in the kneecaps and run."

He asked me to hit the punching bag at the center of the gym so he could see how I did it. It wasn't long before he started chipping away at problems--pointing out how I pulled my elbow back before I punched ('You want to send them an engraved invitation before you punch them, too? Maybe fill out a form requesting permission, first?'), how I held my fist ('That's a great way to do it. If you want to break your fingers.'), and even how I stood ('Do you want someone to hit you back? The way you're standing--it certainly looks that way.'). By the time he was done, we'd spent nearly an hour on just punches. Once he felt satisfied with them, he told me to keep practicing it for another fifteen minutes; once I was done, I could go take a break.

I didn't feel like I learned anything special--near the end of the fifteen minutes, I could feel my punches getting sloppy again. But he told me not to worry--it took a while to get it right.

And it felt good to be using these muscles for something.

~*~
Next->

Dealing - 3

<-Previous
~*~
Going from beating the crap out of powers and government agents to mathematics was a weird shift. The teacher kept trying to show us how to solve for X; meanwhile, I couldn't stop thinking about how everything had gone down two nights prior.

My world had violently expanded. A week ago, my biggest concern was whether or not I'd remembered to pack my homework that morning, or whether anyone noticed the nasty blemish on my nose. Now? I was thinking about the impact my actions would have on the image of the Skull at large.

Gym class snapped me out of that. I had forgotten about the issue of my sudden 'growth spurt'; when it came time to change into my gym clothes, I tried to find the quietest corner to dress in.

I should have known better. These sorts of things never work out the way you'd prefer them to.

"Oh my god," someone said behind me. "What the hell happened to your shoulders, Sue? You look like some kind of freak."

The girl was Jennifer Straub; she was pretty, petite, and mean as hell. As soon as she locked on me, I blushed hard and tried to put the rest of my clothes on as fast as I could. "Nothing," I said.

"You look like the Incredible Hulk!" she said, and then she turned. "Jackie! Come here! You gotta see this--"

My blush burned hotter as I got the shirt over my shoulders. Even with it on, I still looked bulkier--it'd be easy to mistake it for fat if it wasn't for my bare arms. They were dense, compact things--hard and with a noticeable bulge of sinew.

"It's nothing," I said, and I turned to leave the locker room.

Jacqueline--I suspected she and Jennifer were friends for no reason beyond that their names began with 'J'--had arrived in time to gawk at me. As I passed by, she giggled. "Watch out," she said. "You're making her angry. You won't like her when she's angry."

Jennifer grinned. "Sue smash."

To be honest? I was sorely tempted.

I clenched my fists and kept moving.

Gym class didn't go any better. A few people gawked and stared; luckily, gym classes were staggered every week, and since I skipped the previous one, there was about a two week gap to explain the sudden muscles. It probably still didn't make any sense, but I figured teenagers wouldn't think too hard on it. Though I heard at least a few of the other kids whispering about steroids.

I hadn't noticed before, but Anna was in my gym class too. Inbetween rounds of dodgeball (I made it a point to let myself get hit a few times, and miss several easy shots), she darted up next to me and gave me a nudge with her elbow.

"You doing okay?" she asked.

"I guess," I said, and then I added: "At least they're not wondering how I got the muscles."

"You should peg some of them with the ball," she said. "Especially Jennifer."

Again, I was tempted. "Better not to," I said. "Don't want to draw attention to myself."

"Okay. But it's fine if I peg 'em a few times, right?" she said.

That managed to pull a grin out of me.

After gym finished, one of the boys--I didn't know his name--ran past me as I moved to the lockerroom. I heard him mutter under his breath: "Sue smash humans."

Without even thinking, I threw my arms out and gave him a shove.

Surprised the hell out of me. It's not something I ever expected myself to do--but this was starting to get to me. When I pushed him, he flew back--I had done it hard enough to throw him to the floor. Didn't hurt him, but stunned the crap out of him.

I heard the gym teacher's whistle. In an instant, he was baring down on me. "Daysdale!" he shouted. "Office, now!"

"Sue hate puny humans," Jennifer said, grinning and keeping her voice low.

~*~
Next->

Dealing - 2

<-Previous
~*~
"You didn't need to be so hard on her," I said as we stepped out of the hospital.

"Yeah, I did. I've been on both sides of this equation," Sumerset said, pulling a cigarette out of his front pocket. "She comes home for a day, tells you she'll go to rehab in a week. Next week? Oh, something came up--she'll go next week. So on until the goddamn rapture."

"You've been in rehab? You did drugs?" I said.

"'Did' drugs? I still do 'em," Sumerset replied, lighting his cigarette and giving it a tap for emphasis. "Everything's an addiction, kid. The trick is to stay away from the ones that'll screw you up beyond all recovery."

"Like you-know-what," I said, thinking of the costume.

"Like you-know-what," he replied, and then he grinned. That grin stayed on his face for a whole five seconds; then he caught sight of a newspaper vendor outside of the hospital exit. He cursed, fishing a few quarters out of his pocket and pulling one of the papers out.

"What is it?" I asked, my eyes straying to the front page. There was a black and white image of me in the Skull suit, on the rooftop--clotheslining the soldier. The image was a little blurred, and taken from some distance away. Above it, the headline read: THE SKULL REVEALED AS A WOMAN!

"God damn it," Sumerset said. "This is why you listen to your goddamn handlers, girl!" He was moving toward the car, now, keeping his voice low. As soon as we got inside, he rolled up the windows and started up the engine.

"The Skull returns after five years, takes down a villain, and proceeds to beat the crap out of a Federal agency equipped to take down capes just like her," I said, holding the newspaper as he handed it to me. "...and the only thing they focus on is the fact that she has a squeaky voice?"

"That's how it always is. People always focus on the wrong things. Damn it! This screws everything up," Sumerset said, pulling out of the parking lot.

"I don't see what the big deal is, anyway," I said. "So the Skull's a girl, now. Who cares?"

"Everyone," he said. "The fact of the matter is that the Skull was terrifying because no one knew anything about him. He was a goddamn ghost--a mystery. He showed up, handed you your ass, and disappeared."

"But people already knew--or thought they knew--that he was a guy," I said.

"That doesn't count," Sumerset said. "We assume all capes are male until someone tells us otherwise. You tell us they're a girl, suddenly, everything we know about them changes."

I rolled my eyes. "Still not seeing the big deal."

"That's because you ain't been in this business as long as I have," Sumerset said. "Once people know that somebody's got t--... Once they know that you're a girl," he said, correcting himself, "half the people you meet will go all creepy stalker on you and the other half'll refuse to take you seriously until you break their face in."

"So? Break their face in. It'd be fun. And you'd, like, challenge their expectations, and--"

"Christ, girl, what do you think this is, some sort of movement? It ain't about 'challenging expectations' or any goofy crap like that. It's about getting the job done--effectively, efficiently, and quietly. And the best way to do it? Pretend to be a guy. Your mother understood it," he added.

I felt my teeth clench down. My hands pulled into fists.

Sumerset didn't seem to notice. But he sighed, shaking his head. "...I'm sorry. I mean, I'm still right, but I'm sorry about that last part. Shouldn't throw your mother out at you like that. Last thing you need is someone else comparing you to her."

The brief flare of anger started to simmer down. I still felt like he was wrong, but the apology made me feel less frustrated about it. "It's okay," I said. "Besides, who cares? I'm not the Skull anymore. We're through, right?"

"Yeah," Sumerset said, and then he laughed. "Maybe it's best this way. One last middle finger thrown up at the world at large. Who knows? Maybe your mom's cackling in her grave. All her villains now know that they got their asses handed to 'em by a woman."

~*~
Next->

Dealing - 1

<-Previous
~*~
"Has everything been going okay?"

"More or less," I told my aunt. "It's been a strange weekend."

I was sitting besides her bed; Mr. Sumerset was standing. My aunt recognized him--I could tell right off that she didn't like him. Probably because the only time they had encountered each other was shortly after my mother's--her sister's--death. Really, that was fine. I don't think Mr. Sumerset liked her, either.

"Did you pay off this month's mortgage?"

"Yeah," I said. "More or less."

"Good," she said, laying back into the bed. "Doctors said I'll be out of here in a few days. Maybe even less."

"Good," I said, and then I added: "There's some things we need to talk about."

Lisa scowled, glancing past me and toward Sumerset. "Is that why he's here?"

"Kind of," I said.

"Yes," Sumerset said.

"Look. Mom--she had some secrets," I explained. "She didn't tell us everything. A few things... a few things about her have come to light, recently."

"Your niece found a letter addressed to me in the attic," Mr. Sumerset said. "It contained specific instructions, along with more than a few revelations."

My aunt's eyebrows wrinkled together. "About what?"

"Mom had an additional bank account," I said. "About fifty thousand dollars in it. Earmarked for me when I hit 18."

My aunt nearly jerked up in her bed. "What?"

"Took some work to track it down," Sumerset said. "Used to be attached to Sue's old college fund account. But I managed to get ahold of it and put it back in under her name."

I reached out a hand out to touch her shoulder. "I used twenty thousand of it to pay off the mortgage. So, y'know. Thirty thousand left."

"I--I thought you said that you couldn't touch it until you were eighteen--"

"I'm identified as the executor of the account until that time," Mr. Sumerset said. "Sue asked me to use the money to pay off the mortgage. It seemed like a sensible investment."

"Oh, thank God. That's--that's wonderful news," she said. "Now we have some money--"

"Now I have some money," I said, bracing myself. This next part wasn't going to be easy. I felt Mr. Sumerset shift to stand behind me--just knowing he was here to back me up helped a lot.

My aunt stared at me, puzzled. I took in a breath and started.

"You aren't in any state to take care of me."

She pulled back, as if she had been struck a physical blow.

When I saw her face--that look of betrayal, of pain--I felt a certain sickness start to swell up in my stomach. I felt myself falter--I wanted to pull back, to stop. But then Mr. Sumerset's hand descended down on my shoulder, and he started talking.

"Your niece thinks that the next best place to put that money would be in getting you some help," he said. "And I agree."

"Oh, Jesus," she said, turning away. "Oh, Jesus. This is one of those goddamn interventions or something, isn't it--"

"Shut up," Sumerset said, and I was surprised at the force in his voice. "This your goddamn second coming, woman. We're giving you the opportunity to raise yourself from the dead. Are you aware that your niece came home from the hospital the other day to find some meth-head rummaging through your belongings? This shit stops now. Either you clean up your act or you get the hell out of her life."

It was like she was being lectured by an adult. My aunt's eyes were starting to tear up; with each word, she seemed to shrink down smaller and smaller. When Sumerset was finished, she spoke in a tiny, desperate little voice: "Can... Can I go home for just a little while?"

I was about to open my mouth, about to say yes--and Sumerset cut me off.

"You don't step a foot in that house until you're one hundred percent clean. If you try, I will make it my life's work to inspire in you a phobia of legal proceedings so deep and absolute that you will piss your britches at the mere sight of a gavel. Hell, you'll piss two britches--you'll put the second pair on, just to piss them."

When Sumerset got going, he could be a force of nature. I never wanted to see this man opposite of me in a courtroom. I reached out a hand to touch his arm, trying to get him to pull back.

"I want you to get help," I told her. "Once you're clean, we can--you can go back to raising me, if you want. But... you need this, okay?"

She was crying. Sobbing. But when I touched her arm, she reached out to hug me.

"Okay," she said. "I'll do it."

~*~
Next->