Normalized (The Complete Quartet)

by David Bussell

  There are just so many questions left unanswered here; so many unknown factors in play. Can Miss Transit really make that kind of a jump? Is Birdy still alive up there, and if he is, has he turned outlaw? Does D’eath have such a thing as an Achilles heel, and if he does, will I be able to figure out what it is before he lets fly with that space laser of his? Most importantly, are these what final words look like?

  I spent the whole of today going over mission tactics and prepping the team for launch. The moment dusk strikes and the moon’s orbit lines up, the six of us will make the leap into the great unknown. Just the thought of it makes my assh*le pucker. I have to stay strong though. Find some way to tamp down my fear and keep the team motivated. “Let’s grasp that nettle!” I keep saying to anyone who’ll listen, but come on, who grasps a nettle? That’s just crazy talk.

  May 26th (part two)

  Time to get some results. I couldn’t promise they’d be good results, but results were about to happen, that much was for sure.

  I led the team through the bombed out lobby of C.H.A.M.P HQ and past the Captain Might statue, which lay on the ground like the toppled effigy of a deposed dictator. We headed up the emergency stairs and scaled the thirty flights to the roof. It wasn’t as tough as the last climb I made, not by a long shot. My legs had gotten stronger since then, the soles of my feet thicker. Walking wasn’t so bad, at least now I had the hang of it. Check me out; neck-and-neck with a toddler. There’s growth.

  Reaching the top of the building, I looked down over the city sprawl and remembered how things used to be. It felt like a lifetime ago that me and Birdy had stood there with our capes snapping in the wind, drinking a toast to the citizens we’d sword to protect. No capes now though, no Birdy either, just me and the scraps of the superpowers buffet, about to throw down with the biggest threat the world’s ever known.

  Day turned to night and the sun plopped into the horizon like a molten copper penny. The big gray eye of the moon opened up in the sky and the six of us arranged ourselves into a ring, hands placed on top of Miss Transit’s to conduct her power, arms meeting in the middle like the spokes of a big wheel. I remembered this article I read once about rat kings – groups of rodents that got knotted by their tails, glued together by dirt and sh*t, pin wheeling about like brainless dervishes. See the link?

  The seconds ticked down to our leap. A leap of faith over a gulf of hundreds of thousands of miles from one spinning object to the next. I’m telling you, the butterflies in my stomach were pterodactyl-sized.

  Miss Transit turned and gave the nod. This was it. The big boss fight. Hold onto your balls like Bowie in Labyrinth.

  “Good to go,” she said.

  Doctor Love squeezed my clammy hand and whispered in my ear. “You’ve got this,” she said. “The sky doesn't have to be the limit, you already proved that.”

  I remember thinking that if ever made it back from that trip alive I was going to throw a ring on that gal. A ring that I could absolutely guarantee wasn’t hand-crushed out of coal.

  I cleared my throat. “Let’s shoot for the moon.”

  Transit blinked. A hole tore from the sky, I saw a flash of the innards of the universe, then – touch down – the six of us were stood side by side on the surface of a dusty, gray wasteland.[117]

  Now, the problem with the Moon is that it’s basically a place designed to kill you, lacking the most rudimentary of amenities: oxygen, proper gravity, even basic cable. Maybe you assumed the lack of oxygen thing hadn’t occurred to me but that just goes to prove what they say about assumptions, because when you make “assumptions” you make an “ass” out of “me” and... is it, “umptions”? That can’t be right. Doesn’t matter – the point is that we used one of Doctor Love's force bubbles to take a pocket of the Earth’s atmosphere with us, so stow the attitude, tough stuff.

  Still, mistakes were made. I’d forgotten my camera for one. Also, I’d counted on us rocking up close enough to D’eath’s stronghold to be able to breach the thing, but instead we’d landed a couple of football fields away. With the amount of oxygen we’d brought along we’d be handed our cemetery tickets in about five minutes flat, and Miss Transit’s power only worked once a day.[118]

  So far, so not good. Transit turned to me and made a face like a kid in a divorce.

  “It’s okay, I have an idea,” said Doctor Love. “On the count of three, everybody start pushing.”

  Working as a team we managed to tip the bubble, rolling it across the lunar tundra like a giant hamster ball making a run for the underside of the couch. It wasn’t exactly dignified, but this was a guerrilla assault, not a funeral procession (at least I really hoped it wasn’t a funeral procession).

  Arriving at the crater housing Professor D’eath’s base, we rode over its cusp and zorbed down inside, coming to a bone-rattling halt as we struck the structure’s brass hull. Up close and personal we could see just how under the gun mankind was. Literally. Poking from the roof of the base and pinpointed on Earth was D’eath’s cannon – fully built now – a giant, one-eyed monster, stood to attention like some proud monument to Freud.[119]

  May 26th (part three)

  We skirted the circumference of the base looking for a way inside but there wasn’t an airlock in sight. It seemed once again that I was riding shotgun with bullsh*t. My whole gang was exhausted and the last of our air was stale as snooker.

  “There’s no way in,” I wheezed.

  “Icy a way,” said Fraulein Frigid.

  She gave a nod to Doctor Love then took the last lungful of air we had. Reading her signal, Love adjusted the bubble so Frigid was on the outside of it. Unaffected by the Moon’s sub-zero conditions, Frigid puffed a blast of glacial halitosis at the base’s hull until a patch of it was frozen through. Finally, Love dropped the shield altogether, allowing Strong-Man to land the brittle metal with a punch that turned it into a hailstorm. Open frickin’ sesame.

  We hurried through the makeshift gateway quick as we could, then Fraulein Frigid used her power to seal the breach with a plug of ice. As we stood there, shivering in a corridor like tickled greyhounds, I gave the place a look-see. We were gathered in a featureless, metal-walled passage - interior design by Ed-209.

  “Which way?” asked Miss Transit.

  Hell if I knew. There was nothing to go on – no landmarks, no signs, no nothing. I’m telling you, the place was emptier than MySpace. Corridors branched off in every direction and I had no idea which one led to D’eath’s throne room. Without my X-ray vision to cut through the smoke we’d be wandering around in that rabbit warren for hours.

  “I’m on it,” said Acro-Bat, picking up the proverbial mic.

  He cupped his hands around his mouth and used his tongue to make a series of rapid clicks that went bouncing off into the labyrinth like little acoustic bullets. A couple of seconds later his rodent ears twitched and he pointed down an adjoining corridor.

  “The throne room’s that way,” he said.

  “How did you do that?”

  “Echolocation,” he replied. “You know what that is right?”

  “Kind of?” I exaggerated.

  Acro-Bat’s ears fluttered some more. “I’m getting the shape of a man too.”

  “That’ll be the Professor,” I said. I gestured for Acro-Bat to lead the way. “Off to see the wizard.”

  We followed Acro-Bat down a maze of corridors until we found ourselves in the hub of Professor D’eath’s operation – his throne room. The chair was empty though – no sign of my big bad. My eyes landed on someone else though, a figure overlooking us from a balcony.

  It was my brother.

  “Birdy!”

  He shrugged his shoulders, causing a pair of giant brass wings to sprout from his back and lock into place with a metallic SHING! Vaulting the rail of the balcony, he swooped down in a neat spiral and landed before us, both feet planted simultaneously. Full disclosure – the kid looked badass and a half. Miss Transit just about splooshed.


  “Am I glad to see you, bro!” I said. “Come on, we’ve got work to do...”

  I went to push forward but Birdy flexed a robotic wing to its full span, blocking my path.

  “Where did you get those things anyway?” I asked.

  Birdy gave me a hollow stare. “You shouldn’t have come here,” he said.

  The floor rumbled then the room was wall-to-wall with Mandroids, grinding their gears and snorting steam from their nostrils. Their ammo belts hadn’t even stopped swinging before they levelled their guns, marking each of us in their crosshairs.

  “Well, well, Mister Normal,” said a familiar voice. “How terribly cavalier of you.”

  Professor D’eath sauntered into the chamber.

  May 26th (part four)

  “I see you’ve already met my new partner,” announced the Professor, placing an arm around Birdy’s shoulders.

  I couldn’t believe it. My own brother working the other side of the street. A psychopath’s sidekick. I felt like I’d just watched my entire platoon mowed down in ‘Nam.

  “Forgive my manners but I’m afraid this will have to be a hello slash goodbye,” said D’eath. “Emphasis on the slash.”

  He ran a digit along the edge of one of Birdy’s new wings and held it up to show a bead of blood on its tip.

  “Let’s wrap this up, shall we?” he said to Birdy, tapping a pocket watch with the brass forefinger of his Nemesis Gauntlet.

  “You’re not seriously going to listen to this nut burger, are you?” Doctor Love asked Birdy, folding in her expert medical diagnosis of the Professor’s mental equilibrium.

  “Why shouldn’t I?” Birdy replied. “It’s not like I have anything going on down there, is it? I already lost my reputation and my job. I even lost you.”

  “You lost me because you were never around – you were too busy trying to outdo your brother.”

  “Yeah, come on,” I said, as though Mom were there and we were arguing over who got the last tater tot. “To be fair—”

  “—there’s that word again – ‘fair’ – from the brother who got absolutely everything.”

  “Look at me, Birdy, do I look like I have everything?”

  “No,” he said, smiling. “Not any more you don’t.”

  He caught me with a left cross – no warning – slugged me right in the dial. Goddamn. I rubbed my jaw and clicked it back into place. It was on. After all this time, the kettle had finally come to boil. One steaming hot mug of go f*ck yourself coming right up.

  Birdy gave me a sock to the nose and a stroke of blood painted the air. Ouch. I always figured a shot from that five foot nothing would feel like being assaulted by an amoeba, but the kid could land a punch.

  Brother or no brother, Birdy was making me seriously cross in the fists. I was through trying to reason with the guy – if I couldn’t open his mind I was just going to have to open his skull instead.

  I charged Birdy like a bullet train, hitting him square on and ramming him into the boiler-plate chest of a Mandroid – one of the dozen or so that had moved in to form a ring around us. While Birdy was stunned I gave him a knee to the breadbasket, then a couple more to underscore my point. He managed to stay up though and landed me in the spleen with a real peach.

  The Professor clapped like a Roman emperor at a gladiator match. From the corner of my eye I saw a couple of my teammates try edging towards him, but D’eath’s toy soldiers kept them at bay.

  Birdy was really starting to harsh my vibe.

  I threw my arms wide. “Come at me, bro,” I told him.

  He obliged by sending a tackle in my direction, but quick as a whip I sidestepped, snatched hold of his neck and caught him in a Mr Miyagi style headlock. Clenching the crook of my elbow, I squeezed and I squeezed until he wheezed like a wet fart.

  “Had enough?!” I yelled, but Birdy refused to cry uncle and squirmed free of my hold.

  He raised his metal wings, showing off the gleam of their razor sharp edges before flashing an arc my way. I only just about managed to suck in my gut in time to avoid being sliced in two.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  So far the reunion was not going as planned. Birdy ground the edges of his wings against one another like a butcher sharpening his meat cleaver. He made a slash, then another. I danced around the ring to avoid him, bobbing and weaving as his wings cut past me – a pair of reaper scythes. Miss Transit yelled for him to stop but Birdy was berserker red. I felt cold Mandroid metal against my back and winced as I realized I had nowhere left to run.

  “What are you waiting for?” shouted the Professor. “Dispatch him!”

  “Don’t do it!” screamed Doctor Love.

  Birdy raised his metal like an executioner’s axe, then—

  “No,” he said.

  The word hung there like a fart in a church.

  “What did you say?” D’eath snapped.

  “No,” Birdy repeated softly, lowering his weapon.

  “How dare you! How I dare I be disobeyed by some... sidekick!”

  The Professor thundered a command to his Mandroids. “Kill them all and make a mess doing it!”

  Gatling guns began to whirr. I’d really gotten to hate the sound of those things by this point, but it looked as though I’d soon be spared the aggravation. You’ve got to look out for those silver linings.

  I readied myself for the muzzle flash of the Mandroids’ cannons but instead—

  —KLIK KLIK KLIK.

  I undid my eyes, curious to discover how my brains weren’t flushed all over the rivet-metal walls. That’s when I spotted something littering the floor. Ammo. Belts and belts of the stuff, strewn about like a stoned snakes.

  —KLIK KLIK KLIK.

  “You!” D’eath spluttered, finger pointed at Birdy like some lunatic Uncle Sam. “You did this!”

  Birdy smiled. “I’m nobody’s sidekick.”

  That’s when I figured out what our little brotherly spat had been about. Birdy had only pretended to fight me so he could slice the ammo belts off of D’eath’s soldiers and disable their guns. It was all a ruse! He hadn’t really wanted to turn my insides into gut jam![120]

  The Mandroids’ cannons wound down with the sound of a comedian’s spinning bowtie after a poorly received joke. One of the robots broke ranks and rolled up in front of Birdy, only to be cleaved in two for his trouble.

  Miss Transit gave a woot and Birdy winked back at her. It was pretty obvious that right after this those two were heading straight to the bone zone.[121]

  Birdy went to put Professor D’eath out of commission—

  —but D’eath had another trick up his sleeve. Literally. Pulling up a cuff of his robe, he flipped a toggle on his gauntlet, causing my brother’s robot wings to start flapping. Against Birdy’s will he was lifted off the ground, while from the rafters a cage lowered on a chain to greet him mid-air. He fought but the rogue wings were too strong. Powerless to resist he was deposited into the bird cage, then the door snapped shut and his wings dropped off like a leper’s thumbs.

  I would have stepped in and done something of course – any one of us would – except a second wave of Mandroids had already rumbled in to take the place of their neutered brothers.

  Birdy rattled the bars of his cage. “Let’s go, D’eath, just you and me, man-to-man!”

  The Professor laughed. “You’re not a man, you’re a budgerigar with pretensions. Now quiet your squawking,” he said, “can’t you see you’re being rude to my guests?”

  May 26th (part five)

  Professor D’eath paced back and forth while his firing squad kept us fixed in their crosshairs.

  “Since you’ve bothered to come all this way,” he said, addressing me personally, “why don’t we have ourselves a little chit-chat?”

  He parked ass on his throne. This was going to be a drag, I could tell.

  “Have you ever wondered why I chose to make you my enemy?” he asked. “Why I made it my life’s ambition to humiliate you? To destroy
you?”

  “Not really,” I replied.

  A tic played at the corner of D’eath’s mouth. I’d gotten under his skin. Good. I had to wonder though, why did the guy hate me as much as he did? I mean, of all the people?