New Tales From Old Yarn

by Barbara Becc

  She could just make out the Cooley Museum of Art’s light beams several miles out and up a rocky hill. What with The Vitalizer not being an idiot, it made sense that he’d head there; the museum stored all sorts of things, so why couldn’t it house a secret weapon?

  According to Dr. Awesome, The Vitalizer traveled this route going on six minutes ahead of Clockpunk’s return to the surface. He moved faster than her, but Bloodwoman started arranging a news bulletin about Dolores being out and about—he might fancy “toying” with the superheroine again. She hoped so. I bet he would if he liked me, she thought as she forced her legs forward. Or maybe not, depending on the Bull’s allure. Since this is reality, it doesn’t seem like anything matters to him besides the damn thing. Who knows what he’d do upon getting it? Supervillain greed, ha ha. Ugh...

  Dolores heard smashing noises ahead. Oh, crap, that can’t be anyone else. Here’s hoping he falls for it...

  “Hey, Vitalizer!” she shouted.

  A hot dog cart whizzed past her head from the black. Yep. There’s my man. “Is that you, dear Clockpunk?” he yelled back.

  A lone streetlight cast white curves against his longcoat after a few seconds. He skulked closer in the slowest of power, ready for a beatdown—dark, cool, badass, and oblivious. How could he realize she’d left her Kick-Gun behind, or that the Bull might be in his hands before long? “Am I wrong in presuming Dr. Awesome gave you something to put you back on your feet?” he asked her.

  “You’re correct,” she answered.

  “How nice. I’d hoped you wouldn’t be back to distract me for at least a week.”

  “Yeah, uh, you hoped wrong.”

  “If you are, for whatever reason, trying to stop me, let’s get this over with.” A couple of crickets chirped somewhere as The Vitalizer rolled his neck. Dolores thought of Cooley’s people, either on the outskirts or outside the city in fear of their lives, lest she get distracted by her enemy’s appeal. Why did he have to be hot?

  “I’m not here to fight you,” she said. “I’m here to bring the destruction to an end.”

  “One thing kind of leads to the other.”

  “They don’t have to.” She put her hands up. “I surrender.”

  “Okay.” The Vitalizer turned around to leave.

  Dolores chuckled, hoping it sounded real. “You don’t get it, do you?”

  “I don’t care.”

  “If I told you where the Bull was, would you stop terrorizing Cooley?”

  That made him snap back. “That might persuade me.”

  “So long as you leave Cooley alone, we’re good.”

  He stared at her for a while. To her slight indulgence, she entered one slowdown to make it last longer. At last, he said, “Don’t ever say ‘we’re good’ again. However...” The Vitalizer crossed his arms. “Give me the Bull, and I’ll relent. I didn’t come all this way to goof around.”

  This is what you consider “goofing around”? Damn. “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  Dolores put her hands down. “It’s me. I’m the Bull.”

  The Vitalizer stared longer, arms drifting to his sides. “No.”

  “Yeah.”

  Silence. Then, “You’re just using that as a ploy to get me out of Cooley.”

  “I wish it was.” It totally is. It couldn’t be ploy-ier. “I have to protect this city, and if surrendering myself is what it takes...” She slowed time again to sort her words. “I’ll go with no regret.”

  She didn’t know whether he believed her, so she stood still in wait of a response. Good thing slowdowns are not in his repertoire. He could come up with a million different scenarios; on the field, though, he knows the moment could be gone with a snap of my fingers. The pressure’s on.

  The Vitalizer put his hands on his hips, cocking them ever so slightly. Clockpunk thought her cheeks might burn bright enough for him to see. “No shit?” he asked.

  “Would I come out here without my gun if I was shitting you?”

  “Well, when you put it that way, this makes it all the easier!” The one streetlight near them went out before slamming the ground before her; as her sight plunged into blackness, metal squealed against blacktop before wringing itself around her chest. She stifled a scream—the painkillers weren’t perfect. She stifled even harder when the ache and the weight of the streetlight pulled her down. This is overkill! Holy—

  Once the screeching frame made its last revolution around her, Dolores heard something that made it worse. The camera on her waist snapped in half like a bitch. Combined with the pole’s weight, she thought maaaaybe she was doomed.

  Plastered in place, she had no choice but to wait for The Vitalizer to walk over. Is this what an animal being constricted to death by a boa feels like? I need space. I can’t move. “One more thing, Clockpunk,” the Vitalizer said. A wave of his hand brought the twisted pole – and Dolores – a few inches from his head. Face to face. “In light of your...status, if you try anything, you’ll watch Cooley burn into rubble. Understood?”

  “I got it,” she said after a wheeze.

  He took her chin in his hand, turned her head left and right, and let go. She didn’t know what to make of it. “Off with you, then,” he said, and Dolores went flying (yelling) into the air. He followed suit, and they shot off into the night.

  ~~~

  Dolores got nothing out of him—where he planned to take her, what he’d do next, or whether he had some sort of schedule for the next chain of events. Not that she had the nerves (or breath) to ask. The other superheroes out of the loop, Dolores possessed nothing short of her wits for this.

  The Vitalizer found a ten-story condo building and picked an apartment on the highest floor. Went through the balcony’s sliding door no problem. Dumping Dolores in the corner of the living room, he nodded at a computer against the wall and waited for it to respond to his control.

  While he did that, she looked around. Despite the lack of lighting, Cooley’s skyline allowed her a view of white carpet and blanched walls through the glass leading to the balcony. A white sofa faced a wall-mounted TV; behind those stood black shelves lined with indistinguishable trinkets. Art of wine bottles served as decoration. It might've been cozy if Dolores hadn't been kidnapped. Her stomach growled.

  Wonderful. I have no clue what's happening outside, and neither do my cohorts! She folded her legs before they got stiff. I really hope they’re moving the Bull faster than The Vitalizer does whatever he’s doing. Even if he catches on, he’s gotten me out of the way...

  Her stomach grumbled again. “Hungry?” the Vitalizer asked. With the computer presumably functioning to his pleasure, he turned the TV on next.

  “Sort of.”

  He crossed the living room and disappeared behind a door. Dolores guessed it led to the kitchen. Is he grabbing me something from the fridge? That’s so sweet! I mean, I’m sure he wouldn’t want “The Bull” to starve, but it’s not like it’s been weeks or anything. What a gentleman! He’s so pure and—

  The Vitalizer came back with something soft. “I hope you like donuts,” he said and left the chocolate-covered pastry floating right next to her mouth.

  “I love donuts,” she said and took a bite. Eeeee! He got me a donut! I’m so glad his superpower isn’t mind-re—Oh. What if he can?

  He nodded and turned the TV volume up. She heard the news reporting on their little flight, though trackers lost them after a few moments. Dolores wouldn’t care unless they offered an update on the Bull, which would either mean the plan worked or the news blew her cover. Since neither happened, she took another bite and wondered about her captor. Was he hungry? Not hungry, too hyped up on this heist to care? Did he expect Cooley to offer money for her return? When was he going to take off that coat and/or hoodie? Mmmm.

  Three fourths through the donut, she got bored. Her bound arms and back hurt. Surely The Vitalizer didn't just plan on watching the tube all night. “Part of your powers lets you make things levitate?” she ventured
to ask, since fighting was out of the question. Talking could buy her decent time.

  Not that she didn't want to hear his voice, of course.

  “It does,” he said as the news glared off his clothes and mask.

  “Ha. That’s pretty cool.” Now why did you say that? He’s going to think you’re some weak superhero loser impressed by any stupid thing! He’ll think you’re trying to schmooze him up! You damn nerd...

  The Vitalizer turned away from the TV but rested his gaze on the floor instead of her. “The real question is, Clockpunk, what are your powers as the Bull?”

  “That’s classified.” Dolores slowed down time, her heart thumping against her ribcage. Am I playing this too close to the chest? Too close to the fire? She finished the donut. Time resumed.

  “Ahhh. I guess that was the wrong question.” The news reported on the mass exodus happening on the western end of Cooley. When The Vitalizer lost interest in the stream and faced her, her heart pounded faster. “What matters here is how we activate and use them.”

  He walked over and squatted a foot away from her, that electric smile even more menacing in the gloom. Well, half-menacing, half-pleasurable. She felt hot everywhere, her blood alive and heavy, and couldn’t look straight at him. At least he couldn’t tell with her face mask. “Admittedly,” he said, “this could all be a ruse. I thought about that. You might not be the Bull; you might be the Bull and destroy my prospects.” He put his thumb and index finger on her chin. She couldn’t breathe. “Let’s have a look at your powers.”

  “I, uh, really wouldn’t. This condo might not be able to handle it.”

  “This isn’t my condo, so that’s irrelevant.”

  Maybe now is the time I should start looking for a way to escape...Dolores couldn’t see past The Vitalizer’s head, though, which didn’t give her much to work with. But what works against this guy? What angle will trip him up? Nothing came to mind. Bartering? Intimidation? (Yeah, okay.) Payment?

  ...Flirtation?

  “I hope you aren’t stalling,” the Vitalizer said before she had anything at disposal. “I will beat your powers out of you if the need arises.”

  “It’s...”

  “Come out with it, Clockpunk.” The Vitalizer dropped his hand; the metal around her tightened. Dolores winced. “The way I see it, I’ll either have the Bull or one less superhero bothering me. If not one, the other will do.”

  Come on come on COME ON. You’re going to be pinched into two pieces!

  “W-Well...” she started.

  “What?”

  Dolores sighed. At the end edge of her sigh, she slowed time again. Something that’ll take time. I need t—I know. When time carried on, she bit her lip.

  Looked right at The Vitalizer.

  “I need to be in a...certain frame of mind for it to work.”

  “And what frame is that?”

  “One I get from being with other superheroes, not from being tied up: calm.” She allowed herself a little grin for coming up with something so clever. “Much as it breaks my heart to say, I’m not getting that sensation here.”

  The Vitalizer stared at her. It started to creep her out, insofar as she wasn’t kind of into it. His chest is right there. His crotch. Somebody help me. I’m trapped in here. Aren’t the authorities looking for me?

  Dolores braced herself for anger whenever he answered. Instead she got: “All right.”

  “What?”

  “All right, I said.” The Vitalizer stood and snapped his fingers. He walked back to the white sofa; the streetlight dragged her along with him. “If we sit here long enough, you’ll get there.”

  He’s getting comfortable, the asshole! Dolores thought while she watched him sit, cross his legs, and flip through the channels. Channel surfing! “What do you like, Clockpunk?” he asked.

  O-Oh my gosh...He’s interested in what I enjoy...NO! No! You know better! “Murder investigation documentaries.”

  “I’m not convinced that’ll make you calm.”

  “Sure it will.”

  He put on a documentary about birds instead. “Now, Clockpunk, I’m still left with what you actually do with your particular gift.”

  The streetlight tightened again. Oh, shit. He’s giving me a countdown. “Are you going to tell anyone my secret?” she toyed. OKAY! What’s the most outrageous extension of your current powers? Hurry!

  “You know I wouldn’t, sweetheart.”

  Hee, hee...Oh, stop! Focus. “When I’m in my zone, I can stop the entire city for an hour. I’ve tried it out on Cooley a few times. It’s cool.” She looked to the documentary for a moment and watched a blue heron stroll through a stream. Grass swayed behind it in the sunshine. “Couldn’t let Dr. Awesome and the others have access to me?”

  The Vitalizer paused, perhaps more into the TV than she thought. “No,” was all he said.

  Once more, the light pole tightened. Jackass...like I don’t know he’s doing it...Dolores needed something more: time. The one thing that made her “famous.”

  They sat around a little while longer, Dolores pretending to be captivated by the bird onscreen. She was more interested in scanning her surroundings, hopeful that something could deliver her from The Vitalizer, but she couldn’t let him see that. As far as she knew, he’d be content with her death—better now to be quiet.

  It didn’t last. The Vitalizer exhaled, Dolores’s bonds at their most constricting. She sucked sharply for air. “Clockpunk—” he began.

  “Th-There’s something else.”

  The streetlight squeezed her so tightly, she felt like her lungs would shoot out of her mouth. It burned, burned her muscles and skin. Perhaps, in any other context, she thought, one might call this “kinky.” However, I can’t stall much longer. I know he’s considering just ending me.

  “And here I thought we’d be honest with each other,” the Vitalizer said. “Cooley can’t mean that much to you if you’ve just been lying.”

  “No, no! It’s about my ‘Bull’ gift. If—If I’m really happy, that works, too. Gives me the energy to go for it, y’know.”

  The Vitalizer leaned over, elbows on his knees. “Something tells me you aren’t going to find such delight where we currently are.”

  “No, but it’s the truth.” He stared at the wall in response. “Could I get another donut? I’m still hungry.”

  Her captor stood and walked around her. As he walked across the carpet, she slowed time and whipped her eyes back and forth. Damn it. Nothing I can use. There’s one last thing I can try...Time went on; so did The Vitalizer. She slowed time again as soon as she could.

  She bent one leg. The streetlight pinning her to the floor made it near unbearable to move, but with labored breaths she got on her knees. She initiated another slowdown cycle and, her body threatening to break down, got to her feet. Not supposing she had more opportunity to experiment (nor that The Vitalizer wouldn’t try to get back ASAP), Dolores sat back down. I can’t screw this up. I have to be fast, clever—better yet, both. How tall is this sofa?

  Dolores had a concept brewing in her brain. Whether or not she could do it was the question, but she had to try. Maybe The Vitalizer wouldn’t immediately off her if she messed up—a huge risk, though sitting around waiting for him to hear of the real Bull’s departure at any moment worried her more. I got myself standing, she thought, so if I seriously push myself, maybe I can...

  He came back with another donut, this one with the added treat of sprinkles. Flicked it near her face before retaking the sofa. Put the news back on. Dolores’s heart threatened to burst out of her chest, but no updates came. Nothing about the Bull surfaced. She got to eating.

  Part of her wanted conversation, but The Vitalizer wouldn’t care. She bet he had all sorts of stories to tell, plus a story might calm her down to unleash her “Bull powers.” On the flip side, she appreciated thoughtful men; a brief image of them cuddling in silence almost made her choke on the donut. “Don’t tell me you’re going to choke yourself,
” he said while she coughed.

  “No.” A little donut chocolate spread on the skin by her lips. “There’s a learning curve for eating levitating food.”

  He cocked his head in agreement. As she got the donut into her stomach, she let chocolate spread further over her mouth and cheeks. “I can’t finish the damn thing, Vitalizer,” she complained. “If I had my hands—”

  He put his hand out to telekinetically shove the remaining donut into her face, not bothering to look away. Some old white journalist on a panel insulted The Vitalizer, a “sociopath unchained” and “greed-driven asshole,” so the insulted party watched to hear what else. Adorable, Dolores mused. The Vitalizer thinks this is funny, huh? What a chill guy.

  Her donut gone, the moment had arrived. She looked at the villain a while longer, resolving not to hurt him too badly, and set her plan in motion. “Can I sit on the sofa?” she asked.

  “I guess.” The wound-up streetlight took her up with it to the couch cushion.

  She relaxed her neck and butt. The Vitalizer sat a few inches away, but this arrangement wouldn’t work. She kept what calm she could. “Thanks.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “One more thing.”

  “What is it?” he asked flatly.

  “My face is a mess.”

  “You want me to clean your face?”

  “I mean, it doesn’t have to be you. Just tell a wipe or something to do it.”

  The Vitalizer groaned and got up again to find a wipe. He looked back at her while he headed for the kitchen a third time; she smiled back but got no response. All right, she told herself. He’ll cross the living room as normal and come around the left here. So long as my balance is good, I think I can get the advantage. He can probably tell I’m up to something—be smart, Dolores.

  Right as The Vitalizer went through a little hallway, Dolores froze everything and got back on her knees. Time let up, but she grunted her way to a squat. Come on, come on, she pleaded with her body. I need to get on top.

  Footsteps sounded in the kitchen, followed by some appliance scraping the counter. He’s kind of accommodating for a superhero hijacker. He’s cute! But he isn’t stupid. Dolores stood up straight, one foot on the sofa’s arm. I’m quite obvious coming out of the kitchen, so if I squat here...