by R. J. Ross
“We’ll see what we can do,” the older tailor says firmly. “Why don’t I just go draw something up?”
“Thank you very much for this,” Jeanie says.
“Have you decided on a name, yet?” the younger tailor asks. “You’re Diamond Dust’s… relative, right? Maybe something like Moondust?”
“Never,” I say, through gritted teeth. “I’d rather be Plymouth Rock before Moondust. What am I, a pixie?”
“Of course you aren’t,” the older tailor reassures me with a sharp look at her partner. “Why don’t we go see what we can do?” she says pointedly, motioning for the other to follow her. I look at Malina, who’s flipping through a book of uniform patterns happily, her legs swinging.
“You would have liked Moondust,” I accuse her.
“It doesn’t suit you,” she says, flipping the page. “You need something tougher.”
“Might as well just call myself Gargoyle,” I mutter. “That’s what I look like.”
“Or Gargoyle Girl!” Malina says. I shoot her a look, but she doesn’t back down. “You DON’T look like a gargoyle, but it definitely makes for a good name. It’s a little cheesy, but that’s part of the job, right?”
“Heh,” I say. “Gargoyle Girl…”
“Do you like it?” Jeanie asks me.
“Yeah, maybe,” I say, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror to the side. I’ve been torn between looking and avoiding it since I came in, but now I let myself study my new hairdo. I like it. It’s sort of Warrior-Princess like. It makes me look a little less… rocky. I mean, I still look craggy, compared to my birth mother, but…
“You look beautiful,” Jeanie says. “You’re going to take the world by storm.”
“Going up against Diamond Dust?” I say. “Not likely. Everyone will see me as an ugly imitation.”
“They will not!” Malina says, jumping to her feet, her hands clenched. “They’ll see—”
“A beautiful, rapidly growing rock mimic,” someone finishes for her. I look up, shocked to see Superior and Nico walking into the room. “We’ve come to see your debut,” Superior says.
“He’s come to see it, I’ve come to oversee it,” Nico says, looking at Superior with a slight frown before heading over to me. His phone comes out and I blink as a green light scans me. To my shock, though, he turns and discreetly scans his father, as well.
“Would you stop doing that? I told you that I’m perfectly fine,” Superior says under his breath.
“You say that, but you’re lying. So… I didn’t give permission for this debut,” Nico says, turning to look at Jeanie. “I should put in a grievance with the Hall. Marigold’s gotten on my nerves enough, already.”
“I don’t think Marigold is the one that decided that it would go this way, though, Nico,” Jeanie says, but her expression is not very happy. I get the feeling I’m seeing a side of her that most people don’t. Even Nico looks at her curiously for a second before nodding.
Superior stops in front of me, distracting me from watching their expressions. “Hello, Sandra,” he says. “Your hair looks good.”
A rush of shyness hits me, but I shove it down, giving him a dry look. “They forced it on me. They even called Ace all the way from Missouri in the middle of the night. He stole Jeanie’s bed.”
He laughs. “It was worth it. Look, your granddad isn’t here to say it, so I’ll step up and do it for him. You’re going to do amazing, kid.”
“Granddad?” I repeat, suddenly wondering. “You knew him?”
“I knew him,” he says.
“We’ve got a few designs here,” the tailor says, coming into the room with a folder in her hand. She stops, looking at Superior and Nico, her jaw dropping slightly.
“Who are you? We don’t allow outsiders to come into this part of the Hall!” the younger tailor says.
“I’m her principal,” Nico says. “I’m here to oversee all of this.” He plucks the folder from the older tailor’s hand and flips it open. “This one’s out, this one’s out, this one might work…”
“Does that mean that—he’s—” the younger tailor whispers to the older one. The older one nods, but her eyes are glued to Superior. “Then who is that?”
“I—I thought you were dead, sir,” the older tailor says.
“Rumors of my death are… slightly exaggerated,” Superior says, taking the folder from Nico. “This one?”
“Considering her burrowing and the stealth mode, I would say so,” Nico says. “It’s less likely to tear on the rocks, if it’s made out of the right material.”
“We can use the material that was created for Diamond Dust,” the younger tailor says. “We brought in Kim Nao especially for that—”
“We love Kim!” Jeanie says. “Let’s use that.”
“Then we’ll just get started, shall we?” the older tailor says, looking at Superior again. “Am I right to think that this little run-in—”
“Never happened,” Superior says, handing them the drawing of a uniform that I haven’t even seen.
“Do I not get a say in my own outfit?” I ask.
“Nope,” Nico says. “We’ll let you decide on your official one when we get home. Now, let’s set up your devices. Do we have an idea of where the show-down will take place?” he asks Jeanie.
“Yes, we’re going back to the jewelry store—”
Their words fade from my notice as I find myself watching Superior. He’s got a strange look on his face as he stares at his hand. He looks up, as if sensing my eyes on him. “I think I need a hat, if she recognized me so easily.”
I smile slightly, remembering the story about Nico wearing a baseball hat. “What’s wrong?”
“Why would something be wrong?” he asks. “Other than your debut being way too soon?”
“You’re lying,” I say.
“Focus on what’s going to happen tonight,” he says, placing his hands on my shoulder. To my shock, the world seems to warp, the colors inverting. He lets go of me quickly, his eyes widening for a second before a fake smile crosses his face. The world goes back to normal. “You’ll do fine.”
Something is really, really wrong with Superior.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Deep in a rather luxurious underground lair, Reaper is flipping through the channels he DVR’d from the night before. He’d been working, so he couldn’t watch them, himself. A big-wig C.E.O. had needed to leave the country quickly, and while it’s not exactly approved of, he’d been paid a very nice chunk of change to arrange for a “death.”
He leans back in his lounge chair, picking up his drink and swirling it in the cup held by long, bony fingers. In front of him is a seventy inch flat-screen, to the side of him is an open laptop, displaying his stocks and bonds. He takes a drink. He is a grim reaper, from a very long line of them. There are many theories of where their powers come from, all ranging back to the biblical days. Personally, he’s rather fond of the Nephilim theories. It would explain the fact that even after all these generations he’s still very close to eight feet tall.
Of course, he doesn’t go around killing people on a whim. He’d fallen into the new super system even more easily than most of the others—it allows him to focus on more profitable undertakings, like Wall Street and side jobs. But he, above all, knows that he can’t change his abilities. He still kills every plant he brushes against. Humans are a little heartier, but not by much. That’s why he has an entire drawer full of specially made gloves, tailored for his need and personal style. That’s also why…
He stops as he sees what he’d been both dreading and looking forward to. He’s never forgotten her. She’d tossed him to the side after the best four months of his life, and he still doesn’t know why. Watching her work is a form of self-punishment, one that he still does even after sixteen years. He’d even snuck into her territory a few times, but getting past Marigold was like running into a brick wall. Sure, he could do it, but when there’s nothing behind the wall that wants to go
with him, what’s the point?
He stops, though, almost choking on his drink as a different female appears on the screen. “A teenage rock mimic?” he says to himself. She doesn’t look very old, either, he thinks, the glass crushing in his fist without him even noticing. The expensive liquid trickles over his fingers.
“No,” he says, shaking the thought off. “She would have told me.” He gets to his feet and heads to the restroom to wash his hands. He can’t seem to get the thought out of his mind, though.
“She would have told me if the kid was mine,” he repeats, but this time he doesn’t sound nearly as confident as he had the first time. He lets out a curse and goes to find his phone.
***
“Okay, kiddo,” Nico says to me. This day has been a blur, and now I’m wearing a uniform, which consists of a tank top and pants with a belt hanging around my waist. Oh, sure, there’s more to it, but I’m ignoring those parts. I feel most comfortable picturing it as simply a tank top and pants. “We’ve got half an hour before your showdown with Diamond Dust. Now is the time you need to get your head in the game. Are you ready for this?”
“No.”
“I figured you’d say that,” he says. “Look, I’ll just head over to her place, drag her out and hang her upside down from the town pole—”
“Nico,” Jeanie says, firmly, “no.”
“It might bend the pole a bit, but I’m sure it’s covered under super regulations—”
“No,” Jeanie repeats.
“I actually LIKED her,” he mutters, looking irate. “Sure, she’s gruff, but I figured she was decent. She—”
“Thanks,” I say, making them both look over at me.
“For what?” he asks.
“For taking my side.”
“Ken and the boys should be here,” Jeanie says. “They would want to be at your debut—”
“I don’t consider this my real debut,” I say. “This is just a screwed-up situation being played out. My real debut will be back home, probably against Metal Butt or Goth Boy. You can tell them that, too.” I pull out the mask that came with my uniform. “Now can someone tell me how this goes on?”
“I can do it,” Malina says, hopping onto the nearest chair and motioning me over. I hand it to her and she puts it on for me, tapping on it twice to make sure it sticks. “I’m not officially debuted, either, although I’ve been out on the field. We can debut around the same time, okay?”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” I agree. Nico taps on the earbud in my ear and I hear it beep.
“If you need backup, just tell us,” he says. “We’ll throw a mask on Malina and toss her out there. There should be enough water in the area.”
“I’ll do it,” Malina says, looking fierce. “I want to get even for what she did to Sandra, too!”
I shrug, and then look over at Superior, who’s sitting in a chair nearby, reading a newspaper. “Nico? I think there’s something wrong with him,” I say as quietly as I can.
“He’s fine,” Nico says. “Don’t worry about him right now.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Are we ready?” Marigold asks from the door. “Sandra…” she looks at me, and I see regret on her face. “Child, I don’t know how to apologize to you. You don’t deserve this.”
“A little too late, don’t you think?” I say coldly.
“I realize that. Your mother—”
“She is NOT my mother,” I say. “She gave up that right when she left me on the step of the orphanage. And yeah, I’ve heard the sob story of how it’s difficult to be a tank with a child, but you know what? Ken and Jeanie survived. Trent is just fine.”
“But honey, we can fit in, in public,” Jeanie says. “It wasn’t the same for her. Even though she’s made a lot of mistakes, I truly believe that move was what she thought was best for you.”
“Yeah, well, is THIS what’s best for me?” I demand. “Framing me? Forcing me into this stupid fight that I already know I’m not going to win? I thought I was strong, Jeanie. I was ugly and I couldn’t do anything right thanks to my hands, but I had STRENGTH. I could go toe to toe with Badmoon. It was the only thing I had that I was actually proud of—and she made me feel like a—a—”
“I know, sweetie,” Jeanie says, gently. “You have to remember that you’re only fifteen. You’ll grow to be as strong as she is, possibly even stronger. It’s just a matter of time.”
“I don’t HAVE TIME.” I need some time alone. I head for the door. “I’m going to the restroom.” They don’t say anything, but they don’t stop me, either. I head down the hall and into the women’s restroom, stopping in front of the large mirror to the side. I stare at myself, trying to get past the self-hatred that’s been building up in me ever since I started to change. I… I’ll never be pretty, but… I look… okay, I guess. I mean, if I’d seen this rocky creature on the front of a comic book when I was a kid, I’d have definitely read it—especially when it’s a girl. I always felt that tough females were cooler than the pretty, delicate ones…
Now I am one of those tough females, I think. My mind goes back to the two little girls that had seen me for who I really was, and I clench my fists, closing my eyes and picturing them as clearly as I can in my mind. Even if the whole world hates me, or sees me as a freak, or whatever, those two little girls will be watching this and saying that they were my fans before I became famous. I only met them for a few minutes, but I’m POSITIVE that that’s how they’ll react.
I have to remember those two girls. It seems crazy, knowing that there’ll be hundreds, maybe thousands of people watching me during this fight, but I’m going to focus on those two little girls. I mean, sure, Superior and Jeanie, and all my friends are important, but they’ll support me no matter what. Nico proved that just a moment ago. It’s those two little girls I need to do this for, and all the other little girls that are just like them. Even if the whole world turns on me, it doesn’t matter as long as I do my best for them.
I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders and loosening my clenched fists. “I can do this,” I tell my reflection. “I can absolutely do this.”
I head back out of the restroom and to the room I’d been in earlier. “Are we ready?” I ask them.
“We’re ready if you are,” Nico says, smiling slightly. Malina runs over, wrapping her arms around my waist.
“What’s this for?” I ask, looking at her.
“You just looked so cool that I fell for you all over again,” she teases me with a huge grin. I start laughing.
“Okay, okay, your adoration has been duly noted,” I say, gently trying to get out of her hold. “Let’s go and get this over with. I don’t ever want to come back to this part of the country again.”
“Agreed,” Nico says. “Dad?” He turns and we all look at Superior, who’s still staring at the newspaper. I don’t think he’s reading it. If anything, I think he’s hiding behind it. There’s this… pressure in the air that seems to surround him. In fact, I see the material in the room lifting gently and trying to pull towards him. “Dad,” Nico repeats. It seems to shock Superior out of it, and the older man looks up.
“What?” he asks.
“We’re going to the site of the fight. Are you coming?”
“Yeah, I’m coming,” Superior says, getting to his feet.
***
This time there’s a crowd. They’re all waiting outside the jewelry store, expectantly. It looks like word of the show-down has gotten out. I brush my fingers against the com-bracelet, feeling a bit more reassured that it’s still there. Nico changed the illusion before we came, so now I’m a cute little blonde teenager wearing a puffy coat, jeans, and tennis shoes. I feel weird, thinking of myself as a blonde. I ignore it, trying to move as casually as I can through the crowd of “shoppers.” They’re really just loitering around, waiting for the show.
Bronson catches sight of Jeanie, even with her wearing a hat, and heads for us. “You came back,” he says. “Have you come to co
nfess your crimes?”
“Mr. Bronson, how nice to see you again,” she says. I almost accuse her of lying. “I take it you’ve checked out the evidence?”
“Fake,” he says almost silently, only to look around worriedly, as if sure that someone had heard him. “Where did you get them from?”
“We didn’t,” I say. “Diamond Dust made them.”
“Diamond Dust does jewelry?” he says, looking surprised and a bit intrigued. “No, now isn’t the time. But if Diamond Dust DID make those fakes—”
“Then she’s the one that robbed you?” I offer. “Duh. Thank you for finally getting a clue.”
“Who are you, little girl?” Bronson asks me.
“Who do you think I am?” I ask, irritably. “I’m the one you had dragged out by that Sunstrike guy.”
He stares at me with a frown before saying, “Truthfully, I prefer your jasper form. But regardless, are you going to get back my jewels or not?” he asks in a hiss.
“We’re going to take care of that now, Mr. Bronson,” Jeanie says. “And I have to say how appreciative I am of your patience.” That didn’t even sound sarcastic. I’m impressed.
“I still don’t understand exactly how you fit into this situation—and who are those fellows? Did you bring them as muscle?” he asks, looking over at Nico and Superior. “It’s a little late for extra muscle—”
“They’re friends of ours,” Jeanie says. “Don’t worry, they won’t cause any trouble. You were informed on what would be happening here, correct?”
“Vaguely,” he says. “Not nearly enough.”
“Well, rest assured that we will be sure to fix anything that gets broken.”
“Broken?” he repeats as Jeanie pulls me away. “What do you mean, ‘broken’?”
“Now, are you feeling okay?” Jeanie asks me. “I would understand if you felt anxious, but don’t worry, we’re all here for you.”
“I’m fine,” I say. “I just wait until she shows up and accuse her of framing me, right?”
“That’s right. Then there will be a little scuffle, and she’ll confess to her crime.”
