by R. J. Ross
“Sunny! You have gotten bigger! My little man is growing up!” she says, laughing as she swings me through the air. Not many sixteen year old guys can be swung around by their grandmothers, I know, but they don’t have MY grandma. Grandma Tatiana is a large tank woman. I have no clue how much she can lift, but I wouldn’t want to be under it if she dropped it.
“He’s not going to be little for much longer, Tatiana,” Grandpa Superior says. “He should be shooting up any time, now. Good to see you, Sunny.” He reaches out, messing up my hair just like Dad had.
“Mom’s working on your apartment right now,” I tell them. “I think they placed you on the first floor. If it gets too noisy, just go downstairs and yell at Reaper.”
“Reaper?” Grandpa Superior repeats, looking a bit surprised.
“Reaper!” Grandma Tatiana says. “I have not seen him in many, many years!”
“You know Reaper?” I ask.
“When you get to be our age, you know everyone,” Grandpa Superior says. “How is your mother, anyway?”
“She’s doing well. She started up her own plant nursery, so she’s working a lot. I’m actually trying to help after school whenever I can, but I sort of suck at dealing with people.”
“You are falling asleep on the job,” Grandma Tatiana says. It isn’t a question.
“Just… one… two… three, oh wait, then there was that other time… and that time, too,” I say, trying to count the episodes. They start laughing, not even giving me time to finish counting. That’s probably for the best, since I don’t think I have enough fingers.
“Tatiana! Superior!” Mom says, coming from first floor. “Welcome!”
“Mom, Marie’s here, too,” I point out.
“Yes, of course, welcome, Marie,” she says. “We’ve set up one of the apartments for your stay, if you want, or you can go back to the dorm building you built, it still has your room how you left it. I can’t even begin to thank you for helping so much with the wedding. Did you bring the dresses?”
“We did! They are waiting outside,” Grandma says. “Sunny, be a good boy and go get them?”
“Sure, Grandma,” I say, glancing suspiciously at Grandpa Superior. Why didn’t he bring them in? He gives me a bland little smile, and I give up, heading out the door. Oh, wait, I wanted to tell Mom about those pet things, right? Whoops. I completely forgot. When I get back… I step out of the security field and stare blankly at the massive pile of boxes, bags, and racks of dress bags. These are the wedding dresses? Shouldn’t they be smaller?
I sigh and grab an armful of boxes, heading for the panel. “Pop? Can I come in? I can’t see my feet,” I call out.
“You’re clear to enter,” Dad says. “I’ll send someone to help.”
“Thanks,” I say, trying to walk without tripping. It isn’t the weight that bothers me, it’s how large and awkward they are. If I hadn’t seen the size of their house before, I’d swear they packed everything they own. There is no way that this is just the dresses.
“So, have you told him, yet?” I hear Grandpa ask as I step into the apartment building.
“Not yet,” Dad says, “and I don’t plan on telling him, either.”
“You are too mean to our boy, Nicolas,” Grandma says. “It is funny, yes, but he should know!”
“Should know what?” I ask, heading into the apartment building Mom set up for them. They all look at me, and then look at Dad.
“Should know what, Nico?” Grandpa prompts.
“Should know that he’s got a fitting appointment in half an hour,” Dad says. “You’re coming with us, Dad. If I have to wear a penguin suit, so do you.”
“I wore my penguin suit forty years ago,” Grandpa says. “This is your turn.”
“You will look very dashing in penguin suit,” Grandma says, in a flirtatious way. Grandpa looks at her, and I unconsciously hold my breath.
“Is it at least going to be super grade?” he asks Dad. That was NOT what I was expecting.
“I’ve got it lined up with Kim Nao,” Dad says. “She’s already got our measurements, so it should take less time.”
“But renting would be cheaper,” Mom says. “How often are you going to wear a super-grade tuxedo?”
“Sooner or later our kids will get married, right?” Dad says. “The good thing about being a super is that you don’t have to worry about gaining weight.”
“Fine,” Grandpa Superior says. “Let’s get it over with.”
“We gotta bring in the rest of the stuff,” I say. “I only got a bit of it, remember?”
“Comin’ through!” I hear Jack call out. I turn, watching with surprise as Trent and he come in carrying more of the luggage. “Where should we put this?”
“Room One-Oh-Seven,” Mom directs. “Sunny, go on and take your pile there, as well. You’ve got plenty of time to take a shower before you leave.”
“Got it,” I say, grabbing the luggage and heading for the apartment. I guess dresses take a lot more work than tuxedos, huh? I put the luggage down, seeing Trent and Jack already leaving the room. They make me look like the bad one, since they’re working so hard. Thinking this, I chase after them, intent on carrying in more than they do.
***
*Somewhere in Texas*
“So,” Mr. Cage says as he walks down the hall, “how are sales projections looking, Grahmm?”
“Sir, if I could just mention—” Floyd Grahmm starts out, chasing after his boss. His face is bright red and his clothing is dirty. There’s even a hole in the sleeve of his off-white lab coat. “I don’t think we’re ready for the release date. I know that the commercials are doing well, but—”
“We set a release date, and we will release on that date,” Mr. Cage snaps. “If you don’t think we’re ready yet, then MAKE US READY! Besides, the last time I saw the prototype, it seemed to be doing extremely well.”
“In a controlled environment, sir, yes, but that’s all we’ve seen it in,” Grahmm says. “You’re planning on unleashing these monsters—”
“Nuh uh uh, Grahmm, we do not use the ‘M’ word when describing our product,” Mr. Cage says, waving a finger in the air. “’The Petleaves,’ or even ‘the specimens’ is appropriate, but ‘monsters’ is not.”
“Sir, I really think you should try spending some time with them before you start lecturing me on that,” Grahmm mutters, balefully. “They ate my sleeve.”
“Consider it… teething, Grahmm. They’re a little frisky. Like a puppy.”
“They’re not puppies, sir, they have no attachment to human beings whatsoever—”
“Then program that into them! That’s what the microchips are for!” Mr. Cage says, throwing his hands into the air. “Sometimes I really wonder why I pay you, Grahmm. Where is Farkinkle?”
“She’s, um… well…” Grahmm says, “She’s working with the development team on the food pellets.”
“It’s good to hear at least one of you is taking this seriously,” Mr. Cage says. “Lead me to her. I want to see how they’re coming, for myself.”
“Ah, but…”
“I don’t pay you to talk back, Grahmm,” Mr. Cage snaps. Grahmm looks at him, and then debates on who will hurt him more before leading the way to the development lab. This building was once a warehouse, and has been converted with cheap walls and ramshackle work stations. He’d asked for more funding, but Mr. Cage had denied him. Now he’s stuck with a very dangerous product that’s being sold to spoiled rich children. Floyd Grahmm is not a happy man, at all.
“Oh, Skystep,” they hear Thelma say as they get closer. “You’re so adorable, especially when you’re angry.”
“Ahem,” Mr. Cage says as they step into the room. In front of them is Thelma Farkinkle, hugging a body pillow with a picture of Skystep on the pillow cover. On the wall is a monitor playing Skystep’s fight against Clay, over and over again. “You were supposed to be working on food pellets, Farkinkle, not drooling over a super villain.”
�
��I’m not drooling,” Thelma says, only to wipe her mouth with her sleeve. “But I’ve come up with something that Little Monster seems to like. It should be enough to keep it from eating the house plants, at least, most of the time.”
“Again, we do not use the ‘M’ word when describing the product!” Mr. Cage says, irritably.
“He’s never actually interacted with it, has he?” Thelma says to Grahmm.
“I did suggest it, but he blew it off.”
“Figures,” Thelma says, standing and putting the pillow down. “Well, let’s go see. He should be ready for feeding again, anyway.” She leads the way out the “door” and down the hall to a large room with walls of ballistic glass. The inside of the room is separated into several sections. “Here you see the birthing pods,” she explains, motioning to the long rows of planters. “We cultivate the spores here, until they start showing sentience. Then we place them in the nursery, here. We’ve found that keeping the floor well fertilized can keep the stronger ones from eating each other. Of course, any weakling is going to be devoured within moments, but that just makes the stronger ones healthier looking.”
“So… they’re still displaying cannibalistic traits,” Mr. Cage says with a frown. “That could be a problem in a house with more than one child.”
“You think?” Thelma says, dryly. “This is the age we’re starting the microchip insertion. Once the monster has survived the culling, they’re injected and sent to this area, here,” she leads them both to another section of the glass room. The green plant creatures are calmer looking, here, much like breathing bushes. “So these are the ones that will be going out to our first buyers.”
“So? Try feeding them the new pellet,” Mr. Cage says.
“Oh, these aren’t the Little Monster,” Thelma says, moving on. “They’re doing fine on the pellets we created earlier. This…” she stops at a darker area of the glass room, “is Little Monster.” She hits a light switch and Mr. Cage shrieks like a little girl as a gigantic plant monster slams into the glass. “Oh, who’s a precious? Who?” Thelma coos at the salivating monster. “Who’s my little monster? Mommy brought you a new snack!”
“What IS that?” Mr. Cage asks, his voice several pitches too high.
“This is the first one we grew, sir, completely unaltered,” Grahmm explains, staring at the monster behind the glass. “He ate all of his siblings, and we couldn’t get close enough to insert a microchip into him, just to try and control him. We tried putting one in his food, hoping that would work, but it was destroyed. There were sparks, and it wasn’t pretty. We’re working on a sedative that might calm him in the future. We use him to harvest spores to create new Petleaves.”
“So… this is what they become if we don’t keep them under control?” Mr. Cage asks, looking thoughtful. “I might have to see if some of the more ruthless governments might be interested, if this goes belly up.”
Thelma ignores him, opening a small glass window and tossing a pellet bigger than her hand in before closing it as quickly as possible. “Judging by his reaction, it tastes good,” she says as the plant monster leaves the glass to devour the pellet. “Now the real test is if it satiates him.”
“Do they have genders?” Mr. Cage asks.
“They’re plants,” Thelma says. “They produce spores, which grow into new ones. That’s another thing we’ve been working on. We need to stop them from producing those spores. Grahmm’s been working on the genetic modification. There are several good examples, nowadays, especially in corn.”
“I’ve made some very fast progress in that part,” Grahmm says, trying to look modest. “That isn’t what I’m worried about. Their aggressive nature is only somewhat appeased by the signals that the microchips are giving off. Consider it like… playing a hypnotic tape for an angry person. It might lull them for some time, but who knows when they’ll snap out of it? Mr. Cage, this is too risky! You are promoting dangerous creatures as pets for toddlers! Regardless of whether their parents are in legal business or not, their children are still innocent victims!”
“They don’t reproduce,” Mr. Cage says. “Good to know. How about the tests for allergic reactions? Have you gotten anything back on that? I was really hoping to push the ‘hypoallergenic’ aspect in our next commercial.”
“If someone gets hurt because of your plants, we will all wind up in jail,” Grahmm says.
“Then make sure that no one is, Grahmm!” Mr. Cage snaps. “If this doesn’t work, BOTH of our companies will be dragged down. The wolves are at the door, man, and if we don’t have something, we will be ripped to pieces in a very violent manner. Do you understand?”
Grahmm stares at him for a long moment, swallowing loudly before he reluctantly nods. “I’ll see what I can come up with. Maybe if we splice in some of our local plants it’ll cause them to calm down. Lavender has a calming effect, I’ve heard.” He starts muttering to himself as he walks away, leaving Mr. Cage and Thelma watching the monstrous plant behind the glass.
“I think we should skip the kids and sell them to guerrilla warriors,” Thelma says, after a long moment.
“I’ve spent too much on the commercials,” he says.
CHAPTER TWO
*The back part of Central Hall*
“Okay,” Grandpa says, walking over to me. All three of us are in the room, wearing the newly tailored tuxes. Well, sort of newly tailored. Kim had the three suits half-finished before we even got there. I don’t like this bow tie. Oh, it looks fine, but I’ve strangled myself at least three times already, trying to tie it. “Since, apparently, my son doesn’t know how to do it, either, I’ll teach you.” I look over at Dad, who’s dangling his bow tie from his finger. I don’t even want to know what he did with his cummerbund. Personally, I like that part. It reminds me of this sword guy from an anime that I like.
“Sunny,” Grandpa says, making me look up. “Pay attention.” He turns me so I’m facing the mirror and stands behind me, tying the bow tie and explaining along the way. I watch, wondering if I’ll ever have to do this again. I really doubt it.
“I think when I get married it should be on a beach,” I decide. “We’ll wear those ugly Aloha shirts and leis!”
“Try and tell that to your future wife,” Dad says, turning his bow tie into a tiny noose. “I was thinking a quick trip to the court and quits, but next thing I know we’ve got hand-beaded dresses the size of a house.”
“Who’s going to walk Mom down the aisle?” I ask, only to have them both look at me. “What?”
“YOU are going to do that, Sunny, she told you a month ago, remember?” Dad says, sighing.
“But… I was sort of hoping to meet my other granddad,” I admit. “You know, if he’s even still alive.”
“She disowned him back before I even met her,” Dad says.
“Really? Why?” I ask. I’ve asked Mom before, but she’d changed her story several times. I used to think that my granddad on her side was dead.
“From what she told me one night,” Dad says, “her dad didn’t have powers, and she did, so he used to hire her out to farmers.”
“But… we do that all the time,” I say, confused.
“He charged way more than they could afford. Your mother’s been doing it for free ever since, whenever she has free time. I think that’s because she wants to make up for what her dad did to theirs.”
“Oh,” I say. “But it’s also because we’re helping feed people, and not just Americans,” I say as Grandpa takes the bow tie from Dad and repeats the process he just did with me. “American farms provide food for the world… or at least they try to. We do what we can to help.”
“I’m not sure I like you tying things around my neck,” Dad says.
“If this could kill you at your age, I’d disown you,” Grandpa Superior says, finishing the knot.
“I should shout elitism,” Dad says.
“How’s that little D-class girl of yours coming? She seemed promising,” Grandpa asks, reaching up an
d straightening Dad’s coat. “Also, when was the last time you cut your hair? You look like a hippie.”
“Jennifer’s doing fine, and I’m marrying a hippie,” Dad says, “so it’s fitting, don’t you think? Besides, it’s really a pain to find someone that can cut it.”
“You cut mine,” I say, looking at him.
“I can’t do as well on the back of my hair as I do yours,” he says. The whole hair-cutting experience is really interesting. Dad usually uses the same power he welds things with to cut our hair. Zoe spends half an hour explaining which hair should be what length, complete with really bad sketches, but I just sit down and try not to think about what would happen if he welded my ear to my head. I’m not sure it’s possible, but it would probably be painful, regardless.
“How do the Liberty boys do it?” I ask curiously.
“I think they go to Kim. She can cut through anything with her abilities,” Dad says.
“Then you should ask her, right?” I say.
“That would mean the Hall would have a sample of my DNA,” he says. “I’d rather they didn’t. I might be a Hall member, now, but that just makes me more paranoid about it.”
“I’ll do it,” Grandpa says. “The last thing we need is for you to look like a slob in front of the world.”
“Wait, world?” I repeat, turning to stare at him. “What world?”
“A marriage between two very high-profile capes, Sunny, is going to be broadcasted throughout the entire world, possibly even farther.”
“But we can’t do that! You and Grandma will be at the wedding! You’re supposed to be dead!”
“I’ve got my father’s day gift,” Grandpa says, holding up his hand to show his watch. “Your mother will need one, as well.”
Dad gives him a look. “I should have never done that. But you can’t go to the wedding looking exactly like me, so I’ll add another form before next week.”
“And how are we doing in here?” Kim asks, stepping through the door. “Very nice,” she says as she walks right past the adults and stops in front of me, straightening my tie. “Ah, you look so handsome! I knew I picked the right color for the accents.”
