Never Alone - 15

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~*~
The armor started coming off in chunks.

The fists, first; they made a soft hiss before metal staples popped up, causing them to slip off my hands. It was followed by several more hisses as bands of metal unfolded from my back and legs--piece by piece, it started to tumble away.

Gasping and wheezing, I helped it along as best as I could. When I was finished, I was wearing a simple version of the dark suit underneath--with only the backpack from the battle suit still attached to me. That, and, of course, the helmet.

"That was..." Sumerset began, but I cut him off.

"Need a sec," I told him. "Hurts."

"You ain't got a sec, starling. You'll have all the time in the world to sleep once you get your ass out of there." Then he paused, and added: "Your voice."

"Huh?" I hadn't noticed it--but I did now. It wasn't a mechanized purr--it was my own voice.

"Must have gotten screwed up during the fight. Christ. He probably heard your voice," he said, before adding: "Don't talk anymore. Not unless you absolutely got to."

I dragged myself up to my feet. Hot lances of pain were still traveling up my arms, but my legs felt relatively fine. I used them--pumping them hard as I ran up the steps. When I came up to the steel door that separated me from the rooftop, I kicked it open.

It exploded out with a clang.

Just as the soldier fell from the sky, landing in front of me with a solid crunch.

"Fucker," he groaned, getting back to his feet. It looked like he might have sprained something in the fall; he favored his left foot heavily.

I realized, now, that the helicopter above me was watching--along with several news choppers in the distance. This was a city-wide event--hell, maybe even a national-wide event. The Skull's first public appearance in, Christ. Five years?

Everyone was watching me. Everyone was expecting... something.

"Gonna mess you up," the soldier said, and then he threw something at me.

Without the armor, I could move my arms. When he threw it, I caught it. It was the same device that I'd used to send him soaring into the sky.

Now it was my turn to grin.

What an idiot.

I fired it at his chest, bracing myself. He blinked as it hit him in the torso with that familiar splat; then, as it started to reel itself in, I reached behind me and grabbed the frame of the door. He was pulled straight at me, sputtering curses--I swung my arm around and met him in the throat with a clothesline.

He went down, hard. I pressed the switch on the splatgun that cut the cord, then gave him a solid kick in the stomach.

"Gnnf," he muttered.

"Jump off the building's south end," Sumerset told me. "Aim for the black car's roof. When you hit, do it with the balls of your feet--and crumple down to your knees."

"Black car?"

"Don't talk, goddammit! And just look--it's coming."

I stepped to the building's edge. At least six police cars were piled up on this side, lights flashing--a dozen or more officers were staring up at the roof or waving onlookers away. Behind them, I saw a pair of headlights coming in close--and picking up speed.

The Tank had been a bright, ivory white when I last saw it. Now? It was a crisp charcoal black.

It hit the cars with a solid crash. Windshields exploded as it tore between two of them, forcing the vehicles to jack-knife aside. Officers scattered, yelling and screaming.

I reached forward and plucked up soldier boy, throwing him over my shoulder. He groaned, giving a mild kick and a few more curses.

This was stupid, I knew. But the whole world was watching... and I felt like I owed my mom a little something special. To make sure everyone remembered just why the Skull had been so goddamn scary.

I leapt off the roof as soon as the Tank was under me. For a moment, I soared down through the night sky, the soldier screaming somewhere behind my head--then I slammed into something soft. The car's roof sagged beneath me like the surface of a trampoline, deflecting the worst of the impact--I felt a jarring bolt of pain sear up my legs, but nothing snapped.

I threw the groaning soldier off my shoulder and onto the hood of one of the nearest police cars.

"Special delivery," I said. "Freshly kicked Cape-Buster ass. Courtesy of the Skull."

The police just stared. Several of them stepped back.

The car beneath me rumbled, wheels screeching across asphalt as it drove off into the night.

~*~
Next->

Never Alone - 14

<-Previous
~*~
He hit me in the face. Hard.

There was nothing graceful about his punches; nothing clever or quick. He lifted his fists and hammered me straight-on in the nose with the metal bracer around his fist; then I felt the far wall crumpling against my armor-sheathed spine.

Notes of pain rang up and down my face. The soldier didn't relent; he brought his fists down in a steady 1-2-3 combo, pounding into my torso until I could see nothing but hot white anguish. I felt the armor crinkling beneath his blows.

"You're all the same," he told me. "All think you're hot shit 'cuz you got some powers and an electric tin can. Well, son, I've got me a government issue can-opener."

"Flare," Sumerset said, and I started to raise my hand.

This time, the soldier was ready; he stepped back and flipped down a visor from his helm. When it went off, he grinned--and hit me so hard that I tore right through the wall.

I landed across the next flight of stairs. Warning lights flooded my screen; tiny beeps notified me that I was in it pretty deep. I gritted through the pain and tried to get up--just in time for the soldier to meet my face with his armored foot.

I flew up several steps, smashing down hard. He walked--no, strutted--up toward me. He seized me by my sides, using the extended 'arms' that flanked his biceps to hold my weight.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to clear a spot for a mounted skull on my trophy rack," he said, and then he squeezed.

More warnings flared up along the helmet. I heard something cracking and splintering--a list of malfunctions started flooding the bottom left corner of the screen. With a deep creak, the engine flicked off--and then the armored suit was as heavy as lead.

"Shit," Sumerset said. "He took out the engine."

"Options," I whispered, struggling through the haze of pain.

"You ain't got any," the soldier responded. And then he threw me up the stairs to the fourth floor.

Above me, the ceiling had an immense hole ripped into it--from God knows what. Probably another cape fight, or maybe part of the same police raid that had busted the front door. Up through it, I could see the night sky--along with the hovering helicopter that shined its lights on the rooftop. I started to get up, picking myself off the floor; the soldier was moving toward me.

"I'm going to completely disarm the suit," Sumerset said. "When that happens, it'll start to fall off. Take off whatever you can. You're faster than him--you can outrun him. Get to the roof."

But before I could even stand up, the soldier had me by the throat. My arms were as dead as lead--I could scarcely lift them, and the stab of pain that ran through them when I moved them told me that I probably had fractured something in that last fall. I could feel the dull aching throb of bruises on every inch of me--and thanks to my bent chestplate, it was getting progressively harder for me to breathe.

"I lied about the last Skull," the soldier told me, grinning beneath his visor. "I knew she was a woman, but that's about it. Never even met the bitch. Just thought you'd wanna know. Before I tear that obsolete chunk of hardware off you and take you into custody."

I was such an idiot.

My eyes briefly looked up into the sky--I could see the helicopter hovering directly above us, its floodlight stabbing straight down in the hole. We were bathed in the hot glow of that spotlight.

And that's when I remembered.

Inspector Gadget.

A cyborg detective plagued with countless malfunctions. I watched the cartoon a lot as a kid. My favorite bit was his extendable arms--how they'd always malfunction at the wrong time. 'Go-Go Gadget Arms!', he'd say, and then something horrible would happen.

Through the pain and anguish, I reached for the device. It snapped off from my arm with a click; it bore a vague resemblance to a gun. The soldier responded, instinctively--his free hand moving to snatch the offending weapon and pull it away from me.

I smiled beneath my helmet, letting him have it--but not before pulling the trigger myself.

"Go-Go fuck yourself," I said as the device fired--a single black thread lancing straight up into the night--and hitting the belly of the helicopter with a loud splat.

The soldier stared at me with confusion for only an instant. Then, the device whirred, yanking him up out of the hole and toward the helicopter with incredible force--causing him to drop me in the process.

I fell to the ground, watching him fly up into the night sky.

~*~
Next->

Never Alone - 13

<-Previous
~*~
I'd only heard a little bit about the 'Cape-Busters', but it was enough. They were a federally-funded military response team designed to handle non-registered capes and occasional powered crazies. Most major cities had a squad of them on stand-by.

Supposedly, they were damn good at what they did.

Sumerset seemed to think so.

"Get away from the windows," he said. "Stay low. I'm turning your suit up to full."

The armor's hum increased in volume. Suddenly, a single step was like walking on a trampoline. My arms felt like spring-loaded sledge-hammers; my toes were rockets on the verge of igniting.

"Don't pull your punches. Most of them will be wearing body-armor. Get outside as fast as you can--I'm coming for you."

The window to my left exploded. A man in urban camo swung in from a length of cord, landing in a crouch. His face was shrouded behind a gas mask and helm. He was holding a very big gun that was currently pointed at my chest.

"Freeze," he shouted, and in the same breath, he fired. I was already moving--coming in low as a thread of lightning arced over my head. The gun resembled an immense taser; instead of a bullet-clip, it had a big battery stick.

I drove my feet into the floor, letting the armor do the work. The legs snapped like a bow--I was launched at him like an arrow, slamming into him shoulder-first and driving him back through the window. The sheer force of impact sent a bolt of pain up my arm; the poor bastard was flung forty feet back, his tether cord snapping taut as he dangled in the night.

More had come in through the window behind me. I turned around just in time to catch one of their taser shots straight in the chest. My muscles clenched in expectation of the shock--and then--nothing.

"Armor works like a Faraday Cage," Sumerset explained. "Redirects flow through itself and to the ground without so much as shorting a circuit. That trick won't work twice, though. They'll switch to concussive rounds. Move."

I did. My feet pounded into the floor; I leapt down the shattered steps, landing besides Sharkface's unconscious form.

"Shit," Sumerset said.

Police lights flashed outside the slum, painting the room in alternating blasts of red and blue.

"Roof!" Sumerset said.

I turned. The first round slammed into my stomach, then exploded.

It was like getting socked in the belly with a two ton fist made of lead. I Even through the armor, I could feel it--and I crumpled. Air left me in heavy gasps; I was sent reelign back toward the door.

I threw myself low and charged. Another shot popped off behind me, blowing a three foot hole in the floor. I flew up the shattered steps and brought my fist straight into the soldier's torso.

Something cracked. He flew into the ceiling, smashing through tile and wood.

"Probably came here for Sharkface," Sumerset said. "Weren't ready for you--but that'll change real fast. If you ain't out of here by the time they start turning on their power armor--"

"I've got power armor," I said, wheezing. I darted through the next room, springing past gunfire and ducking up the next flight of steps.

"Theirs is better," he said. "Theirs is always better. Government always has better gear, better training, better experience."

"Then what do we have?"

"Bigger balls. Watch up ahead."

As soon as I stepped around the corner, I got a face full of fist. My torso snapped back; the view screen flickered and crackled. I was sent careening into the wall, landing with a smash.

The man who punched me wasn't wearing body armor. He had a headset, a tank top, and camo pants--along with a bulky metal backpack. Two hinged 'wings'--no more than thick strips of steel--extended from the back of the pack, ending in handles that doubled as iron knuckles. He held these handles, swinging them with his fist--it was probably how he managed to knock me back with one punch.

"Activating a flare. Hold out your hand."

I did. Something lashed out from my wrist, exploding in a blazing hot white light. The helm's viewport adjusted accordingly, keeping my visibility high.

The soldier cursed, stepping back.

"Keep going," Sumerset said.

I started to move. Then I heard a voice behind me.

"You the new Skull? Replacing that crazy bitch from before?"

My feet froze. I turned, setting my sights on the soldier. He was grinning through his blindness, flexing his augmented fists.

"It's a trick," Sumerset said. "Don't just stand. Move!"

"Maybe crazy runs in the family. You her sister? Brother? Daughter? Son?"

My fists clenched.

"MOVE!" Sumerset roared.

"I'm only askin' on account of me figuring that if you were related to her, you'd wanna know that I'm the one who put two bullets into her pretty little skull," he said.

Something hard and hot surged up into my chest.

I lunged at him, swinging my fists in a blind, furious rage.

~*~
Next->

Never Alone - 12

<-Previous
~*~
Both amps reptured beneath the weight of a single note. The sound rippled outward into two waves, crashing together at my precise location.

I felt it in my teeth. I felt it in my bones. I felt it in my goddamn brain. Every molecule in my body was set to spinning; nausea and vertigo swelled up from my stomach and exploded in my chest.

My knees buckled. Sharkface ripped off his headphones and swung an aluminum baseball bat at my head.

It made a sharp, distinct CLINK as it hit; for a moment, I was briefly thankful that the neck on my costume didn't move. Rather than snapping my head to the side, the blow threw my entire body back; I tumbled down the stairs, crashing down to the base.

Sharkface landed on top of me, aluminum baseball bat in hand. He started taking swing after swing, grinning all the while. Each blow sent a brief spurt of pain up through my face--my arms--but none of them were penetrating the armor.

I reached up and seized the bat in one hand. Then I squeezed.

It crinkled like a cheap soda can.

"Holy shit," he said, and then I head-butted him. He stumbled back, momentarily dazed; I took the opportunity to charge at him, shoulder first. When I hit, I felt something snap--something give. I pushed him straight into the stairwell.

The stairs buckled and collapsed. I threw him to the floor, watching as he groaned and squirmed. Despite his opening salvo, this was going to be a very one-sided fight. I was in a tank and he was throwing rocks. Big rocks, sure--but still just rocks.

"Okay. How do I take him out without breaking his skull?" I whispered. I didn't want to hit him again. I was afraid of snapping him.

"Backpack," Sumerset said. "Cattle-prod built into 'em. Basically a taser. Hit him with both of them."

I broke out the sticks, remembering the motion from the dark suit. With a single stab, I drove both sparkling tips into his torso.

He snarled as spittle formed on his mouth. For several seconds, he could do nothing but spasm and growl; finally, he fell still. Threads of smoke spilled out from his mouth.

I tried checking for a pulse, but I couldn't feel anything through the gloves. When I noticed his chest rising and falling, I felt a sense of relief flood through me.

"Get the screecher," Sumerset said.

I moved up the steps, finding the device on the floor. As I picked it up, a thought occurred to me.

"I thought I was immune to this thing."

"Not at that volume. No one is," Sumerset said. "It's a pitch that disrupts the functions of the brain. You had minor surgery to prevent you from being able to hear it properly. Lots of capes get it done. Everyone else? Pain, convulsions, possible stroke."

"Stroke?" I asked.

"Yeah. In some rare cases."

I crushed the device in my fist.

"The hell?" Sumerset said.

"Strokes can be fatal," I said. "This thing shouldn't even be in the suit."

"Christ, starling, if you can't handle a little controlled risk--oh, crap."

"What?"

"Oh crap. Oh, goddamn. Just caught something on the scanner. Get out of there," he said. "Move."

Something about his tone set me on edge. I turned, moving toward the exit.

The scorching hot beam of a spotlight stabbed through a window, hitting me head on.

I hadn't even heard the helicopter approaching. Judging by the stream of curses breaking through the radio, I guessed that Sumerset hadn't either."

"Police?" I asked.

"Worse," he replied. "Cape-busters. Run. Now."

~*~
Next->

Never Alone - 11

<-Previous
~*~
When we got within a block of the slums, Sumerset pulled into a parking lot and started setting up his gear.

The Tank had tinted windows, which made it hard to see what was going on inside. It was a good thing too, because within a few minutes, Sumerset had two laptop monitors set up on the dashboard and passenger seat.

I crawled into the backseat, shifting and putting on the rest of the gear. The 'splat-gun' snapped into place along my forearm; the helmet snapped on with a click.

"You know," I said, "the whole 'no-neck-turning' thing might be a problem in the immediate future."

"More of a problem than the whole 'getting your throat slit' thing?"

"Mmm. Point."

He tested the radio, setting the frequency. Showed me how to send a signal to him--then gave me a crash course in radio jargon.

"Kinda goes without saying, but never say anyone's name. Call me big bird and I'll call you starling."

"Seriously? You had all day and that's the best callsign you can think of?"

"Keep complaining and I'll change your callsign to 'Scrappy-Do'. Also, Sharkface is 'the worm'."

"Tom Clancy called. He wants his dumb-ass military jargon back."

Sumerset glared, but didn't follow up. We tested a few more things. Once he was satisfied, he told me to do a quick thermal sweep of the parking lot--a button on the side of the helmet switched the view over--and when we were sure there was no one watching, I opened the door and slipped out into the night.

Walking out on the street in full battle regelia seemed like a silly idea, but neither of us could think of a better solution--the equipment I'd need to make a more subtle entrance required too much time and training to bring to bear. For about three minutes, I'd be visible--with Sumerset listening to the police scanners. If so much as a squeak about a cape on the streets came up, I'd pull back to the Tank and we'd high-tail it out of there. Otherwise, the mission was simple: Get into the slum. Get back the screecher. Beat the snot out of anyone who tried to stop me. Run and call the police, letting them mop up whatever was left.

The armor didn't clank, thankfully--it hardly made a sound at all. But somehow, it still felt loud--it was hard to make my movements subtle and quick. I felt like a block of metal lumbering my way down the street. A few people caught sight of me, but didn't pay much attention--from a distance, I looked big and weird. Most people around here would just mind their own business.

The slum was a four story apartment complex that had been left behind by a community strangled by drugs and crime. Graffiti was slathered over the walls in layers thicker than paint; refuse littered the outer stairs. The door had been smashed open long ago by a police raid.

I finished the job with my foot. Just to get a feel for the suit. The door promptly buckled inward, slamming to the ground.

"Try to be a little more subtle," Sumerset said, his voice humming in my helmet.

"Right," I replied. Even when I whispered, the helmet picked up the sound and turned it into a mechanical purr.

I started heading up the stairs, fiddling with the thermal scanner again. As I was rising up to the top, I started to get a reading--a big red blotch just over the ridge. Hunkering low, I stepped forward and peered into the darkness.

Sharkface was waiting for me, wearing huge headphones and standing behind a pair of enormous loudspeakers. Both of them were turned to face the stairs--aimed straight at me. A length of wire connected both amps to a small black object in his hand. It took me a moment to realize what it was.

The screecher.

"Oh Christ," Sumerset said.

"Let's turn this shit up to eleven," Sharkface said, and then he hit play.
~*~
Next->

Never Alone - 10

<-Previous
~*~
Getting out of the house unseen posed an interesting challenge. Sumerset mentioned other exits from the bunker, but he didn't want to risk them until he had an opportunity to check them out. That left the front door--and me wearing power-armor.

We found the heaviest coat I had and managed to stretch it over the suit, but it was a tight fit--and it made me look like I was sixty pounds heavier. Still, it was better than looking like I was a super-hero sneaking out of the house.

I waddled into Sumerset's car (which I had taken to calling 'the Tank') with my backpack--inside was the suit's helmet and splatgun. We hadn't been on the road for five minutes before I realized I was starving--I asked him if we could stop and get something to eat.

"Sure," he said, and pulled into a fast-food drive-thru.

I told him what I wanted. He ordered two of each.

"You going to have the same thing?" I asked.

"No," he said. "You're going to eat like a pig."

"Excuse me?"

"Happens for a while after you take the elixir," he said. "You'll always eat more, but for the first week or two you'll pretty much just inhale anything put in front of you."

I stayed quiet as he paid for the food and sat it down in my lap. When I started to eat, I felt that gnawing, voracious hunger again--and realized he was right. I was going to eat all of this.

"So," I said inbetween bites. "Is that all there is to being the Skull? Gulp down some blood-flavored koolaid, gain superpowers, and spend the rest of your life asking for everything to be supersized?"

Sumerset laughed. "Maybe. Why you asking?"

"It just occurred to me. If the only thing separating mom and dad and the rest of the Skulls from everyone else was some funky potion and a really cool costume--what was the big deal?"

Sumerset spared me a glance while he drove. "You're asking me why--or how--your mother scared half the cape community witless?"

"Well, yeah. Not that I don't believe it," I said. "I just don't get it."

"When I told you to punch that cinderblock, you swung at it as hard as you could," he said.

"Uh. Yeah. So?"

"Most people wouldn't have. They'd pull their punch."

"Why? I was wearing an armored fist--"

"Doesn't matter. It's still your fist, and it's still a block of concrete," he said. He tapped the side of his temple, his eyes locked on the road. "Folks have a mental block, see. Humans spent the last hundred thousand years evolving into animals that don't kill each other on sight. We're built for socialization, not violence."

I rolled my eyes. "Tell that to a war vet."

"You're talking to one."

"Er--sorry. I didn't mean to--"

"But, yeah. We can kill each other," he said. "But it's not something we're built for. Half a soldier's training just involves getting him to a point where sticking a knife in some other guy's guts doesn't make him vomit. It don't come naturally. Most of us, we gotta work at being ruthless bastards."

"And, what? Mom was different?"

"Yeah. For her? It was second nature."

"So what you're saying is that my mom was a sociopath," I said, my voice more than a little bitter.

"No," Sumerset said. "Not at all. She was kind--compassionate. Caring. Probably one of the best people I ever knew."

"But, what? She just happened to be able to go all crazy-violent at the flip of a hat?"

"She had a talent for finding simple answers to complex problems. And those simple answers often involved doing harm," he said. "She once described it to me like this--that when she was in a situation, her mind would go clear, and she'd see--she'd see a straight line from herself to the solution."

"What does this have to do with me and the cinderblock, anyway?"

"Because it's along the same lines. I asked you to punch a cinderblock. You did it. Subconsciously, you're probably aware that even if the armored fist hadn't worked properly--if you'd broken every bone in your hand--you could have just healed it. It's something your mother would have done--she never pulled punches. She rarely got flummoxed. She was a problem solver. A doer--not a thinker, not a feeler."

"I vomited after I harpooned that guy in the shoulder," I told him. "And when I fought Sharkface--"

"Did you hesitate before you threw the poker?"

I shifted uncomfortably in the seat, nibbling on the last of the fries. "...No."

"Your mother didn't like violence either, Sue. But when it was the best way to save lives--the best way to save the day--she never hesitated to bring it to bare," he said. "Doesn't mean it didn't make her sick. But that's the thing--the thing that made her so goddamn terrifying. She could do the violence. She could be the ruthless bastard. And she could do it extraordinarily well. To the point where she scared the crap out of everyone who was watching her."

"Well, I don't want that," I told him.

"Hey. I'm more than glad to hear it. You don't belong in this costume," he told me. "You belong in high-school, necking with some teenage creep while working on pushing up your SAT scores."

"Right."

~*~
Next->

Never Alone - 9

<-Previous
~*~
According to Mr. Sumerset, my mother could put the 'battle suit' (as he called it) on in under three minutes; it took me about fifteen. On top of that, I needed his and Anna's help doing it.

There were a lot of individual parts, and they all fitted together with clicks and snaps. On top of this, the suit needed to be adjusted for my size and height--thankfully, it was adjustable, but the process involved lots of discomfort and momentary pinching.

When I finally had it on, it felt very heavy and bulky--even with my heightened strength, it was like carrying weights on every inch of my body. I wasn't sure how I was expected to run around like this, nevermind spring out of the shadows and punch bad guys in the face.

Then Sumerset said, "I'm turning the suit on."

There was a gentle hum--like an electrical generator coming on in the distance. If you weren't listening for it, you probably wouldn't have even heard it. And suddenly, the suit wasn't very heavy at all.

"Woh," I said, moving my arm. It was surreal--as soon as I exerted the effort to swing my hand forward, I felt the suit pick up the slack for me. As soon as I stopped, the suit stopped. I imagine the best comparison would be like operating in a low gravity environment--everything took only half the effort.

"It's really not all that revolutionary," he told me. "Technology's nearly a decade old--military's been screwing with it for a long time. You start to move, it figures out where you're going--and completes the motion. When we pump it up to full power, you can punch through concrete."

"Seriously?" I asked.

"We'll give it a try."

Sumerset and Anna brought a concrete block up from the gym room and set it down between two benches. I glanced at my hand--the suit included gauntlets constructed from pieces of sleek black plastic. Though they made my hands look big and bulky, I wondered if they'd be enough to eat the impact.

"Put your helmet on," he told me, stepping back toward the far corner with Anna. "Concrete might get in your eye." For some reason, he seemed to be scrutinizing me.

"Sure," I said, dropping the Skull helmet over my face. I flipped it on, peered down at the concrete, and made a fist. The plastic clicked together like interlocking puzzle pieces. And then I stepped forward and swung my fist down like a hammer.

The cinder block exploded--it cracked beneath the sheer force of the blow, shattering into a dozen chunks and a cloud of dust. I felt a sharp, hard jerk against my hand--bruised my knuckles a little. But otherwise, it didn't hurt much.

"Woh," I repeated.

"Hm," Sumerset said, still watching me. I had the strange feeling that I had just passed a test. Whatever that test was, I couldn't imagine. "We won't have the power up that far--not tonight. We'll put it at half, and adjust if necessary."

"Shouldn't I take a while to, I don't know, get used to this thing?" I asked. "It feels like we're rushing into this."

"Don't worry," he said. "The suit you're wearing technically qualifies as a tank. Frankly, you'll probably be safer out there in this thing then you would be sitting on your couch back here."

"Okay. So. Anything else I need to know?"

"You should take the sticky-rope thing," Anna said, earning a look from both me and Sumerset. "What? It's really cool. And beside, you might have to make a really grandiose, ridiculously awesome exit. Like Batman with his cape, y'know?"

"I'm not wearing a cape," I said, turning to Sumerset. "We're clear on that, right?"

"I don't think I've seen someone wearing a cape professionally since the sixties," Sumerset said. "Thank God. The costumes back then..." He shook his head. "Anyway, you might as well take it--there's actually a slot for it underneath the arm."

"Okay. So, one more important detail, then," I said. "How am I getting to this slum he's supposedly in?"

"I'm driving you," Sumerset said.

"In my suit," I said.

"Yes. You'll keep the helmet off till we get there. I've got a portable setup in my car--I can manage the handling from there. I'll stay a block or two away, but if things get too hot, then I'll step in."

"You'll 'step in'?" Anna said, needling him. "With what, your cane-fu?"

Again, Sumerset glared at Anna. "I'll have you know I was pretty hardcore back in the day, young lady."

"Yeah, I don't know if anyone told you," Anna said, "but being old doesn't qualify as a 'super-power', grandpa."

Sumerset growled and pointed his cane at Anna, turning to me. "She's not coming. Non-negotiable."

"Right," I said, thankful that the helm hid my smile. "So. Let's do this."

~*~


Next->

Never Alone - 8

<-Previous
~*~
When we returned to the bunker, the first thing we noticed was that Anna was dangling from the highest point of the ceiling.

"A little help," she said, looking rather sheepish.

Well, this explained why she hadn't answered my text messages.

She was attached via a short length of slick black thread. It looked like it had 'splurted' against the concrete, spreading out in a splatter pattern; the slender rope ran down into a small device that Anna was clutching in both hands.

Sumerset went off to get a ladder while I filled her in on the details of the visit.

"Weird," she said. "Blind precognitionist and Inspector Gadget. Not exactly two things I imagined going together."

"Yeah," I said. "So, how did you get up there, anyway?"

"Oh, well, that's a bit of a story. You know you've got, like, a whole wing down here you haven't explored yet? It's full of awesome stuff, like this." She gave the device a squeeze.

"Right. But I'm asking how you got up on the ceiling."

"Getting to that. It's kind of like a grappling hook, only a lot cooler," she said. "See, the problem with grappling hooks is you need to store all that rope--so this thing produces the rope on-the-go. Uses a chemical compound that hardens into a thread on contact with air. So instead of, like, fifty feet worth of rope, you just need a pint of black syrup."

"Okay," I said, staring up at her. "Still doesn't explain why you're up on the ceiling."

"Also, the other cool thing about it--grappling hooks are kind of limited. Y'know how Batman always shoots his grappling hook into the sky and manages to hook something every time? Well, that's just silly--a lot of buildings don't have anything for the hooks to grapple. So, this thing, it weights the front of every length of rope it secretes with this tiny splat-bomb--it's an adhesive agent, right? And--"

"Still not explaining why you're up on the ceiling."

"I fired the grappling hook up here and didn't realize it automatically reels the thread in," she responded, blushing.

"Ah."

"Anyway, you should really check out the vault. There's all sorts of awesome gadgets--I think your mom must have confiscated some crazy science gear from over half the villains in the world," she said. "I mean, really, just cataloging all the stuff would take--"

"Here we go," Sumerset said, returning with an immense bean bag.

"That's... not a ladder," I said as Sumerset threw the it underneath Anna.

"Yeah, figured this way is easier," he said.

"I'm not jumping down into that," Anna said.

"Don't have to," he said. "You'll fall."

"Why do you say that?" Anna asked.

"'Cuz the splat-gun's ropes only have a life-span of about thirty minutes," he replied. "After that, they fall apart."

"What? Seriously? That sounds like a bunch of--"

The timing was suspiciously perfect. The rope snapped; Anna fell with a squeal, landing hard right on top of the bean bag.

I tried not to laugh, but it was a lost cause. "Oh, wow. You're--uh, you're really lucky he got that thing under you in time," I said, grinning as Anna stood up and rubbed her backside.

"Yeah, right," she muttered. "Seriously, Mr. Sumerset--I could have broken my neck!"

"Aw, relax," he said. "Worst that could have happened would be a sprained ankle or broken arm. Anyway, you're fine. Sue, come with me. Need to show you your suit."

We were moving down the hallway when Sumerset stopped. He turned and looked at Anna, who was following us.

"Ahem," he said.

"Ahem," she said right back.

"Look," I told him. "She already knows my identity. On top of that, she saved my life. I feel like I owe it to her to let her--I don't know--at least in on this stuff." That, and it felt good to have someone I could talk to about these things, I realized. I didn't really know Anna, but I trusted her. Plus, I genuinely liked her. There weren't enough people in my life who I did like.

"Dangerous," he said, but then he sighed, shrugged, and went back to walking.

We were heading down a corridor I had yet to explore. As we walked, Sumerset talked. "The suit out in the lobby is the dark suit--designed for general use. Easy to put on, easy to take off. Can wear it under civilian clothes--the only 'important' bit is the helmet. There are a few additional dark suit models down here, too, but nothing too fancy. It's the primary suit your mother relied on when she wasn't expecting too much trouble."

We stepped into another room. Fluorescent lights flipped on. I could make out the sight of suits--at least half-a-dozen--sitting within the niches, framed behind glass. All of them were variants on the costume I had worn the other night.

"Here we are," he said. "Third one on the left is going to be what you're wearing when you go out tonight."

"Tonight?" I said.

"Tomorrow's a school-night. Besides, we need to get this done fast. You've got a normal life to return to. And I've got a couch that's gettin' cold."

I looked at the thing. The dark suit had armor laced into the fabric; this thing was made of armor. All black, but with more texture than the dark suit--still sleek and hard, but with sharp edges. It had a certain thickness to it, too--and the backpack on it was bulkier.

"What's it do?" I asked.

"Blocks small arm fire, among other things," he said. "You won't be as agile in it, but you won't need to be. You're just going to punch this guy until he stops moving."

I looked at Sumerset. "What if he can take it?"

"He can't take it," Sumerset said. "Trust me. I did a little research on this 'Sharkface' character. He's strong as hell, but a few punches with this thing and he'll be out cold."

"I bet he looked up his wikipedia page," Anna said.

"I did thorough research," Sumerset said, glaring.

"Oh, yeah. You totally just looked him up on wikipedia," Anna said with a grin.

Sumerset grunted. "Put the suit on. We're going to run a few tests."

~*~
Next->

Never Alone - 7

<-Previous
~*~
Clarice Donovan lived in a nice little two story twin-home off in the suburbs; it was only a thirty minute drive from where we were at. As we pulled out front, Sumerset reached into his pocket and withdrew his wallet, flipping it open.

There was a small pad of white paper stuck inside--similar to what you'd expect FBI agents to store their IDs in. I saw him press a small cloth button on the left side of the wallet, and the paper suddenly flickered--as if it was a monitor screen.

"Woh," I said.

As I watched, he cycled through several bits and pieces of potential ID--all of them emblazoned with his mugshot. He finally settled on what looked like a pretty respectable police department ID; he pulled out an authentic looking badge and snapped it into the wallet.

"That's--what the hell is that?" I asked.

"Something you ain't old enough to toy with," he responded.

He slipped out of the car and headed straight to Clarice's house. I waited, busying myself with text messages sent to Anna. I wanted to ask her what she was doing, if she was looking around the bunker. But she wasn't responding.

Sumerset returned a few minutes later, wearing a puzzled expression. When he opened the door, he stared at me with a look that was almost accusing.

"She wants to talk with you," he said.

"Uh? I don't even know her."

"I know," he said. "And she claims she also knows. But she still wants to talk with you."

Okay, I thought. Little weird.

I got out of the car and followed Sumerset through the front door. As we walked, he quickly filled me in on the cover story.

"I told her we're trying to find her son in connection to a crime he might have witnessed," he explained.

"How do you know Sharkface is her son?"

"You'll see," he said.

When I stepped into the house, the first thing that struck me was that it was like a museum--everything under plated glass, carefully arranged and forbidden to touch. The stench of peppermints and expensive, old perfume lavished every nook and cranny--if ever there was a place capable of aging you just by walking in, this was it. On top of that, there were crucifixes and images of Jesus everywhere.

I quickly figured out how Sumerset had pieced together Sharkface's relation. Several pictures were placed throughout the room, with a big one over the mantlepiece. They showed a family, eating happily at a picnic, or playing frisbee, or posing for a photo in front of the hearth. And in all of them, at various stages in his life, was a grey-skinned youth with a bald head and a mouth full of razor-edged cutlery.

Kind of creepy, really.

Clarice Donovan sat in a rocking chair near the back-end of the room. She was an old block of a woman, short and heavy, with hair like iron and eyes like steel. She took one look at me and drew back her wrinkles into a smile.

"She told me you'd come on by."

"Uh. Okay. Who?" I asked.

"The funny blind girl," she said. "She told me that you'd need some information from me."

"The... funny blind girl?" I asked. I started hearing the Twilight Zone theme playing back in my head.

"She told me to tell you you'd find my son in the city. At this address," she said, and then she drew a small piece of paper out of her lap, holding it out to me.

"Right," I said, taking the paper--and then looking back at her. "...why are you helping me?"

"She did me a favor," the old woman responded, before smiling quietly. "She let me see my boy."

"O-kay," I said, looking back to Sumerset. But he was as implacable as rock.

"Oh, yes," she said. "The blind girl also told me to give you a message."

"What's that?"

"Inspector Gadget," she said.

Both Sumerset and I stared at her.

"Inspector Gadget," I repeated.

She nodded.

"That's it? That's the message?" I asked.

"Yes. She said that, when it was important, you'd understand."

"...right."

When we left the place, Sumerset and I were quiet for a long time. Didn't say anything when we got into the car. Didn't say anything when he started driving away.

It wasn't until we were half-way back home that he finally broke the long silence.

"That was just goddamn weird."

"Thank God you thought so too," I said. "I was worried that maybe I had just stepped into a bad Outer Limits episode and nobody had told me."

"Well, we got a location, anyway."

"But doesn't this--like, I don't know. Doesn't this just stink of a trap or something?" I asked.

"Consider your situation. Who'd set a trap for you? You're a two-bit player that hardly anyone knows about. Who currently has enough information to set a trap like this for you? And if they did have that information, why bother--why not just hit you where you are now? Besides," he added, "after I gear you up tonight, it won't matter what sort of situation you're walking into."

"'Gear me up'?" I said.

"We're breaking out the big guns, kid. No chances. Not tonight," he told me. "You're gonna take the battle suit."

~*~
Next->

Never Alone - 6

<-Previous
~*~
"Breathe in."

Cold winter air filled my lungs.

"Hold it. Six or seven seconds. Then, let it out."

I released it. Long wisps of condensed breath swirled up from my cold lips, evaporating beneath the mid-morning sun.

"Keep the pattern steady. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Until you don't even need to think about it."

I did as I was told, keeping the cross-hairs leveled at my target.

"Now--between breathes. That's when you fire. Use the spot between the center of your fingertip and the first knuckle... and don't squeeze--pull."

I waited until I was between breathes, just like she said. Then, careful to keep my finger steady--moving on its own--I pulled.

The trigger snapped. With a gentle fft, the gun released its payload.

A coffee can produced a metallic 'tink' as the bee bee struck it dead-center.

"Good shot," my mother said, giving me a pat on the shoulder. "Now, do the rest. Just like I told you."

I didn't hit them all like that first one on my first try, but I came close. My mother nodded her head all the while.

When I finally finished, she stopped me before I got to my feet.

"What's the first thing we do once we're done shooting?" she asked.

"Turn on the safety," I responded, and snapped the lever down. When I stood up, I surveyed my work, keeping the barrel of the gun pointed at the ground--just like my mother had taught me.

My mother brought me out here, sometimes. Sometimes to talk, sometimes to teach. We didn't have a lot of time together--her work often pulled her away to some distant coastline. There were times when I didn't see the point of all the things she wanted me to learn, but I cherished any time I could get with the woman--so I rarely complained.

Today, though, I was feeling a little brazen.

"Why are you teaching me this?" I asked her.

"Hm?"

"How to use a gun," I said. "I mean--is this something that's important for me to know?"

Her face slid into a frown. She glanced toward the car, parked on the trail that lead out of the woods. "It might be, sugarplum."

"Really? Because--um, I know--I mean, I know dad was in the military and all, but that isn't what I want to do..."

She looked down at me and grinned. "Whatever you want to be, sweetie, go and be it. I just want you to be able to handle yourself when things get nasty."

I wrinkled my nose. "But I'm not going to carry a rifle around, mom." I double-checked the safety, unloaded it with a click, then handed it to her. She plucked it up, double-checked the safety, made sure it was unloaded, then quickly started packing it back up. "Besides, have *you* ever used one?"

Suddenly, she stopped moving. I could tell that I had asked something she didn't quite want to answer--she didn't look back at me, but I could tell she wasn't happy. But when she spoke--her voice didn't contain a hint of ire to it.

"Once."

"...really? Like, a real rifle?"

"Yeah."

"Did you shoot anyone with it?"

She snapped the rifle's case shut with a click. When she turned, she was smiling. "It was a long time ago. Anyway, what do you think about ice cream, sugarplum?"

I drowned my curiosity in the thought of the banana-cherry sundae I'd soon be devouring and told her I thought ice cream was pretty neat.

~*~

Sumerset woke me up with an elbow to my ribcage.

"Unf," I said, pulled out of the dream. "What?"

"We're there," he said. "Get your cellphone. Call your girlfriend."

"Huh? Why?"

Sumerset knocked on the window, drawing my attention outside. Glancing out, I could see we were about half-a-block away from the house, which now had several police cars out front of it--along with yellow ticker-tape.

"Crap," I mumbled.

"Someone burned down the meth labs out back," he said. "You can kind of see them from behind the trees. Probably your boyfriend from last night."

"Okay. So, what do we do now?"

"Now, you call your girlfriend, find out if she knows the name of the person who owns that property, and we chase down the lead before the police do," he told me.

I did as I was told. Anna picked up quickly on the other line.

"Hey," I told her. "Any lead on the names?"

"Donovan," she said.

"...Sharkface?" I said. "That was his real name."

"Clarice Donovan. Probably a relative," she said. "I've got an address, if you want it. Looked her up in the phonebook. Pretty sure it's the same lady."

"Yeah, okay."

I wrote the address down and handed it to Sumerset. He started the car, turning us around.

"By the way," he told me. "The plan when we get there, just in case you're curious, is that you shut up and let me do the talking."

~*~
Next->

Never Alone - 5

<-Previous
~*~

Before Mr. Sumerset and I left, he told Anna to get the name of the person who owned the deed to the house on Sullivan. The county had digitized its files a year or two ago; you had to pay a fee to access their website, but after that you pull up anything that was in the public record.

After that, we got into Sumerset's car--Pearl white 5th Avenue Chrysler. Little more than a block of metal with wheels. Only thing that could have stopped one of these things was a gas station.

"We need to scope out the place," he told me. "While we still got daylight."

"Out of costume?" I asked.

"I'll do the snooping."

"Then why am I tagging along?"

"So I can keep an eye on you and make sure you don't do anything stupid," he said, before adding: "And I want to talk to you a bit. Away from your girlfriend."

"I hardly know--"

"And you told her about the Skull," he said. "Great policy. What's next, the mail-man? 'Thanks for the delivery, Joe. By the way, did I mention that my mother was actually the Skull?'."

I glared at him. "Come on--these were--these were extenuating circumstances, okay? It's not like I'm some sort of professional cape--I'm going to make mistakes."

"That's the thing," he said. "You don't get to make mistakes in this business. Amateurs? They end up dead. You've gotta hit the ground running. You're either a pro from day one or nothing at all."

"Good thing I'm not planning on sticking with the family business then, isn't it?"

"Mmm."

We drove in silence for a little while after that. Finally, I ventured the question.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Plan B. Didn't want to parade it out in front of your friend back there."

"Plan B?"

"This guy. 'Sharkface', or whatever. Like I said, it's possible that he's figured out who you are, or at least he's got enough intel to put the pieces together at some point down the road," he said.

"Yeah, I know. I'll just have to deal with that when it happens."

"You don't seem to understand. Even if we put him in prison, that don't mean he can't figure things out. Prisons got computers, now. And he can talk to other inmates. Point is, he's a liability."

I felt a little shiver go up my spine. Something about the way he said it--all business. Brisk. Easy. Like he was talking about a local sports team.

"Yeah, I know. So?"

"So? Dead people ain't liabilities."

A wave of nausea surged up through my stomach. "You can't be serious."

"Relax. You wouldn't be the one to do it," he said. "I mean, Christ. You're just a kid."

"No. That isn't--that isn't an option," I said, surprised at the force in my own voice. "Look--I made this mess. I'll clean it up. And--and if he figures things out, or if it looks like he might do it in the future--I'll just have to deal, okay?"

"Just something to keep in mind," he said. "You know, if the government found out where the Skull's gear was stashed--it wouldn't be a good thing. And not just them--there's quite a few groups who would make a move."

"Drop it. Let's just pretend we never had this conversation, okay?"

"If that's how you want to play it."

I turned and stared at the window, watching the scenery flick by. Another question gnawed at the back of my head--after several minutes of trees, I finally asked it.

"Mr. Sumerset?"

"Mmn?"

"Did my mother ever kill anyone?"

"Is that really a question you want me to answer?"

I turned back to the trees.

~*~
Next->

Never Alone - 4

<-Previous
~*~
The local news station was playing the footage when Sumerset turned on the TV.

Two figures in ski-masks stepped in through the front doors of a bank; men and women started to move in a panic. Security guards stepped forward, hands moving toward their guns.

By the time I saw that they were wearing headphones, I already knew what was about to happen.

"Oh no," I whispered.

One of them held something up above his head--something small enough to fit into his palm. He pressed the button.

Everyone on camera except the robbers clutched their heads, as if suddenly in pain.

"If anyone has any information regarding this robbery, you are urged to contact the police at..."

Sumerset switched the television off and turned to us.

My mind was whirling in a panic. I must have dropped it after using it against Sharkface. It hadn't even occurred to me--in all the chaos, all the desperation. And now it was out there. In the wrong hands.

"I'll make this right," I said, trying to keep my voice from trembling.

"Shouldn't we contact the police?" Anna asked.

"No." Both Sumerset and I responded in the same instant.

"Am I missing something?" Anna said.

"I can fix this," I said. "It's my mess. I'll clean it up."

"If the police catch them--find the device--they'll know a cape is involved," Sumerset said. "And then they'll start asking very particular questions. Questions that could lead them straight to you." He gave me a meaningful look.

"Fine," I said. "So, right. Like I said. I'll fix this." I had no idea how I would do that, of course. But I'd find a way. I had to.

"First things first. You're going to tell me everything that happened. And I mean everything."

When I had told Anna the story, she had hung on my every word; but with Sumerset, it was more of an interrogation. He'd stop me in the middle of the story to ask a few penetrating questions--and the longer I talked, the more he started to scowl.

When I finally finished, he clearly did not approve.

"I cannot even begin to describe to you the number of fuck-ups you've made," he said.

"Look. I know. Like I said--I'll fix this," I told him. I was starting to get frustrated. Some part of me was wishing I had never even contacted him.

"You don't know. And that's the problem," he said. "Do you realize that it's very possible that this 'Sharkface' character knows your identity?"

"Huh? How?"

"You interrogated someone out of costume," he said. "In your own home. And then you showed up a few hours later on his doorstep and kicked his teeth in. If he's not a complete idiot, he's already started asking his men questions--and one of them's gonna have a hell of a yarn to spin about how this fifteen year old school-girl harpooned him on a fire poker and beat the shit out of him."

"I'm sixteen," I said, and then I shook my head. "He won't have the guts to tell his boss. It'll mean he ratted him out. Besides, he was probably stoned--"

"You hope he ain't got the guts, and you hope he was stoned," Sumerset said, "but neither of those are guarantees."

"Fine. Fine!" I said. "I made mistakes. Okay. So now I'm going to fix them."

"We're going to fix them," Sumerset said.

"Why are you going to help me?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at Sumerset.

"Sue!" Anna said. "You need his help--"

"Do I? I didn't call you to clean up my messes, Mr. Sumerset," I said. "I called you because I wanted to know more about my mother. But this--this is my problem, not yours. I can handle this."

Sumerset leaned back in his chair. He looked less irritable now, and more thoughtful--when he spoke, his voice no longer carried that hint of bitterness.

"You look inside your helmet yet?" he said.

"What does that have to--"

"You want to know about your mother? Fine. I'll tell you about her," he said, cutting me off. "Did you see the words inside your helmet or not?"

I glared at him, but didn't reply. My silence was answer enough; he nodded his head slowly.

"Rule #1," he said. "Never alone."

"What does that mean?" Anna asked.

"In the comics, you always see Batman and Superman and all the greats fighting it on their own," he said. "But that's a load of bull. No professional cape has ever gone it alone. They always have someone back home, talking into their ear over the radio--doing the research, giving advice, ready to call 911 if things get dicey. Or the Army. Or, hell, even suit up in a costume if they have to."

"You're talking about handlers," Anna said.

"I don't understand," I said. "What's that got to do with--"

"Your mother wrote those words in the helmet. They were a reminder for your father," Sumerset said. "She was your father's handler--the voice in his ear. Made sure he was informed, made sure he was safe, made sure that if things got dangerous, he'd always have back up. She wrote it in there so he'd always remember--never do this alone. Always have someone behind you, ready to pull your ass out of the fire."

A question took root in my brain--and before I could think it over, I found myself asking it.

"After my father died--after my mother became the Skull--who was her handler?"

"I was," Daniel Sumerset said.

I looked down at my hands, unsure of what to say. Sumerset filled the silence for me:

"I know things've been rough for you since your mom died, Sue. You've probably been operating solo for a while now--got it in your head that the only way to get things done is to do them yourself. But that ain't how caping works. Your father knew he needed help--and so did your mother. And now, so do you. And if you let me--for one last time, just one more night--we'll let the Skull out to set things straight."

He took another breath: "And for that night, I'll be your handler."

~*~
Next->

Never Alone - 3

<-Previous
~*~
"Don't touch anything," I told her.

We descended down into the bunker. Anna's eyes seemed to grow several sizes larger.

"Ohmygod," she said, staring at the various trophy cases arranged through the room. In the instant we reached the ground, she darted forward--inspecting each one with her palms pressed up against the glass. "Ohmygod."

"Right," I said. "Um. About the whole 'not touching' thing."

"This is--this is the original Scourge's mask!" she said, staring into one of the cases. There was another jawless skull there--along with a hat and cloak. All three pieces of the costume were colored as black as midnight.

"Who?"

She turned and stared at me.

"What?"

"You don't know who the Scourge is?"

I shrugged, walking past her. "I don't keep track of cape stuff."

"He's, like, your nemesis! Or was, anyway," she said, turning back to the case. "He disappeared sometime in the 80s--folks figured the Skull finally did away with him."

"Nemesis. Great," I said. "So you know a lot about this stuff?"

"Know about it? I live it!" she said. "You've got to let me sleep over here a few nights--there's so much stuff here to go through! And you haven't even shown me the equipment room--"

I unzipped the duffel bag and removed the helmet and costume, putting them back into their mounts. "To tell you the truth," I said, "I don't think I've even explored this whole place."

"...seriously?" She stared at me, dumbfounded.

"What? I haven't had access to it for very long," I said. "But don't go getting lost, okay? We've only got a little time before this Mr. Sumerset shows up. I need to figure out what I'm going to tell him--what about the Skull, what's happened so far--if I should even mention that this bunker exists."

"Good idea," a voice said above me. "While you're at it, you should definitely leave out the fact that you decided to bring your school friend down for a visit."

The elevator hummed, descending again. This time, there was a man on it--dressed in a black sports jacket and white-collared shirt, minus the tie. He was old--so old the wrinkles seemed to be carved into the bone--and had a large, lumpish nose. His face was locked into an expression of constant indignation, as if the whole universe was arranged in a fashion he found aesthetically displeasing.

"Uh," I began, stepping back.

"I'm Sumerset," he said, giving us both a look. "And I assume you're the damn fool who decided to bring your friend down here for playtime."

"It's not like that--" I began, but Anna cut me off.

"I won't blab about this to anyone," Anna said. "Scout's honor!"

"Won't do. I've known too many girl scouts," he replied. He leaned heavily on a sleek black cane; as he walked forward, I noticed a pronounced limp. He didn't seem particularly threatening--but the fact that he knew about the bunker still left me feeling vulnerable.

"Mr. Sumerset," I said. "I take it you know about my mother's secret, then."

"By now, I'm guessing the whole goddamn highschool knows about your mother's secret," he replied. "Or did you only blab it to this one?" He pointed his cane at Anna.

Anna glared. "She didn't blab it to me--she--"

"Whatever. Uninterested," he said, waving his hand. "You're going to sit down and tell me everything that's happened so far. Including what happened when you took one of the suits out for a joy ride."

I blinked, looking from Anna back to Sumerset. "But how did you know about--"

"You haven't been watching the news, have you?" he asked.

"News? But no one there saw me except for Sharkface," I said. "Why would there be news coverage?"

"It ain't what you did last night that made the news," he said. "It's what you left behind."

~*~
Next->

Never Alone - 2

<-Previous
~*~

"Hey, Anna? Where are your parents?"

"Out," she said, sitting in front of her computer--a hunk of metal that had been dissected with what seemed like surgical care. "They're usually not around. Gone for days, even weeks at a time."

I sat up in the bed, steadying myself. I was still incredibly hungry--but I didn't want to be rude. I tried to distract myself by prodding her for more information. "When you came and picked me up--what happened? Did you see the guy I'd been fighting?"

"Yeah," she said. "I hit him with the car, actually."

"What?"

"He was getting up," she said. "'Sides, he looked like a power. He wasn't dead when I left him."

It occurred to me that I might have traded one mad man for another. But at least this one wasn't threatening to use my skull as a toilet.

Anna stood up, walking toward me. She seized the skull on the bedpost and started to finagle with it--I heard a soft click. Suddenly, the skull shimmered, going from a bright, polished white, to the same textureless black color that the suit had been.

I blinked, staring.

She threw the skull to me.

"You really don't know how half of this stuff works, do you?" she asked.

"I--I kinda know," I started, trying not to blush as I fiddled with the now-black skull. That trick would have been really useful in the woods--running around with a big bright white target on my shoulders--yeah, going all-black would have been a much better idea.

"I was going through the stuff in your backpack. Hope you don't mind," she said. "You've got a lot of gear in there, but I bet you haven't even touched most of it."

"I used some of it," I said, feeling defensive.

"Well, I'll make you a deal. I've got Sumerset's number. I'll give it to you. On one condition--you let me help you figure out what this stuff does."

I gave her a look. "I could probably get Sumerset's number on my own."

She made a face. "Yeah, probably. But this'd be totally easier. And besides, it's in your best interest to know how this stuff works. I'm really good with technology."

I sighed. It didn't feel like I had much of a choice; Anna knew my secret. On top of that, I really didn't understand my mother's equipment--she had apparently figured out the helmet's stealth option in less than a few seconds.

"Okay," I said. "But no dissecting any of it." My eyes drifted to the gutted remains of the computers at the base of her desk.

"Scout's honor," she said, crossing her heart. And then she picked the phone off her desk, punched in a number, and threw it into my lap.

I brought it up to my ear, listening to the ring. He picked up on the fourth.

"Sumerset," a gruff voice said.

"Hi," I said. "Um, you might not remember me--this is Sue Daysdale. Susan Daysdale's daughter?"

A moment of silence. And then:

"Yeah, I remember you. What can I do for you?"

"Um. You were my mother's lawyer, right?"

"I retired from law," he said, but then he added: "But yes. Why?"

"I found some... property of hers, recently. Something I think I might need your help sorting through."

Another long, dreadful pause. And then:

"Whatever it is, if you can't sell it, throw it away."

For some reason, that response made me bristle with indignation. "What if it's important? Like, really important?"

"Then burn it," he said.

"I--it might be a little too late for that, Mr. Sumerset." I was playing it careful; I didn't know how much this man knew about my situation, but if I dropped enough hints...

Again, there was silence on the line. And then:

"Please don't tell me that you drank it."

Bingo.

"I might have--"

"Jesus fucking Christ, girl," he said. "What the hell do they do with kids in schools these days? You stumble into the goddamn bat-cave, come across a row of red vials that smell like blood and have skulls on them--universal symbol for poison, may I remind you--and what do you decide to do? You decide, 'mm, that looks delicious, I think I'll take a sip!'"

"I--it didn't happen that way!" I said, feeling panicked. Anna gave me a curious look, but I couldn't communicate what was going on to her without breaking off the conversation.

He growled. "You still live at the Montgomery place?"

"I--yes."

"Anyone else going to be there for the next six hours or so?"

I thought of my aunt, still in the hospital. "No."

"Good. Two hours. I'll meet you there. And don't touch another goddamn thing, you hear?"

"Yes."

"Good." Click.

Anna was nearly bursting with questions when I hung up the phone. I gave her a mournful look. "He's coming," I said. "Two hours. My house."

Anna clapped her hands. "That's just enough time for you to show me where you found this stuff."

~*~
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Never Alone - 1

<-Previous
~*~

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was that I was hungry enough to eat a horse.

Several, in fact. Had you lined them up and given me a butcher knife, a grill, and copious amounts of steak sauce, I'm fairly certain that instinct would have accomplished the rest.

The second thing I noticed was that I was in someone else's bed. Posters and newspaper clippings were posted to every inch of wall-space--all of it detailing the exploits of superheroes and villains, past and present. Along with this, there was a metal work-desk that looked like it had a soldering kit, and a few circuit boards set out in front of it. And the disassembled parts of several gutted computers sitting beside it.

And the top half of a skull hanging from one of the bed-posts.

It was then that everything hit me--everything at once. Everything that had happened last night. I groaned, clutching my head and falling back to the pillow.

"Crap," I said.

Someone had taken pains to bandage me, I noticed. Wrappings were around my chest, my ribs--the shoulder that I had dislocated was in a sling. Everything still hurt, but it was a dull, distant ache--a far cry from the penetrating pain I had felt last night. I groggily sat up, felt the dull ache start to sharpen, then laid back down.

The door to the room opened. Anna stepped in, holding a tray brimming with breakfast foods.

"Morning," she said, and I found myself simply staring at the bacon and pancakes. "Are you feeling--"

As soon as she had gotten in range, I reached out and snatched the tray, dragging it to my lap. Without another word, I started eating--my appetite was voracious. She watched me with what must have been something between amusement and surprise.

"--better. Well, I guess that answers that question," she said.

While I ate, I started thinking--about everything that had happened last night. All the screwups I had made--god, there were a lot. Too many to count.

Calling Anna, I realized, had been one of the bigger ones.

I was in pain, confused and desperate for a solution, but what I did had directly put her life in danger. If anyone had found her while she had been rescuing me--if anyone saw her driving off with me...

And on top of that, I had lied to her to convince her to help me.

"Anna," I said, swallowing as much of the mouthful of bacon as I could manage before speaking. "Listen. About last night--I'm sorry. I wasn't--look, this is a little confusing, I know. But I wasn't completely truthful with you."

"About being the Skull? Yeah, I figured," she said. "I mean, if you were actually the Skull, you wouldn't have had to ask me all those questions about the Skull's deal. I figure you probably found the Skull's stuff, though. Right?" She reached forward, tapping the helmet.

Well, that made one part easier.

I prodded at my chest, where I had felt something crack in my ribs during the fall. It hurt when I touched it, but not too much. "How did I recover so fast...? I feel like crap, but--"

"I reset your shoulder," she told me, "and put some bandages on the worst wounds, but you did everything else yourself. I was terrified--I thought I'd have to take you to a hospital, explain the injuries and everything--but you started healing right there in the car. When I saw the wounds closing, I realized that you just needed someplace to rest."

"I--um, thank you. For coming to rescue me," I said, and then added: "I guess I can put 'super-healing' on the list of powers, then."

She leaned forward, nearly hovering over me. Her eyes were on me, bright and vivid. "So--you have to tell me. How?"

"Huh?"

"Your powers. How? How did you get them?" she said. "What are they? I have to know!"

Something about the way she was pouring her attention on top of me made me squirm; I blushed beneath the focus, and then--slowly, between bites--began to explain the whole story to her. Everything, from my discovery of the envelope, to the bunker, up to my aunt's hospitalization and what lead me up to the meth labs and Sharkface. To be honest, it was a relief to let it all out--the fact that I couldn't tell a soul about any of this had been eating me up. Actually having someone to talk about it to, someone interested--it felt good. Really good.

During my explanation, I wondered several times where Anna's parents were--or what they thought of a strange, bloody teenager in their daughter's bed.

"Have you tried contacting Sumerset?" she asked as I finished.

"Huh? What? No," I said. "Why--"

Oh. Duh.

My mother had obviously trusted him to give me a very important letter on my 18th birthday--and judging by the content of the letter, they had a certain understanding. An understanding that, at the very least, included knowledge of the 'shrieker', judging by the implied threat she had used against him.

Which meant it was possible that he knew my mother was the Skull.

"I guess that's a good place to start," I said, feeling rather sheepish for not thinking of it first.

Anna grinned. "Good. I'll look him up online. We can give him a call."

~*~

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