by P. S. Power
They all laughed, except Denis, who had to close his eyes and not speak for a while. When he did it sounded a little strained.
“No, not gay. Just poor fashion sense I guess.” Stop there, he cautioned himself. Don't say more...
He couldn't help it, the words popped out on their own.
“But if I have to be something new, how about the “Purple tickler” instead? It works with my powers better.” Then he literally had to bite down on his tongue to keep from speaking. Everyone stopped laughing and stared at him, but Charlot nodded.
“Better. Less than half the asshole you used to be. Keep doing that, working on it. You've got the looks for public work, if you can just learn to keep your mouth shut about thirty percent of the time. Clari, go to. Let's make a man of him.”
This was done, not with the woman's normal deft touch with a sponge, but with clippers that looked like they belong on a sheep farm at shearing time. Denis had that chore as a child, so he knew firsthand. When she finished with the head she used the same ones on his face, brutally, taking the hair off and not really being too careful about his lips and nose. He didn't complain, but kind of wondered if the mutilated look had made a comeback while he'd been away.
Then, freakily, she shaved him.
Thank God for safety razors, Denis thought, the blade running over his throat a bit harder than a clean shave really needed. What had he ever done to her, he wondered. Then it hit him. Back, years ago, he'd briefly been on team one, that had lasted about three weeks, more like two, before they all threw him away because they didn't like him. But when he met the cute make-up girl with her short hair and tight body, he'd really wanted her to like him...
So he'd pushed her into feeling good, really good, which led to her having an orgasm as she worked. Several in fact. It was only meant as advertising really, and not meant to be that intense at all, kind of like saying, see what I could do for you, but he'd gone overboard a bit and tried too hard. She took it all wrong, acting like it was rape. Luckily for him no one up top thought so, or he'd have gone away then.
A shot of anger flowed through him and he contemplated doing it again so that she'd know she hadn't beaten him, but after a few seconds Denis managed to let that go. Clari might be a bit sensitive and too willing to claim major crimes that weren't, but Denis really didn't want Marcia to punch him in the back of the head. If he wanted to die that badly he could go to medical and have them drug him into it, he felt certain. They normally didn't condone suicide, but no one here loved him all that much.
No make-up went on, and no fancy uniform came out at all. Just a plain blue button up shirt, and some faded jeans with thick gray socks and some heavy work boots. They made him change right there. Staring at him.
Like a bug.
Standing back they all looked at him critically. Charlot grimaced, clearly not happy with the effect, then, she was never happy. It was her first mode, Denis knew. Or more accurately, guessed. Then a lot of people had thought that being aggressive and mean was his too, hadn't they? Maybe they had more in common than it seemed? For all he knew her first mode was a mania that caused a love of grape popsicles or something and the bitchiness was just the way she lived her life. All he wanted was to collect all these scary women into a frightening little harem, but she had to fight not to hate everything it looked like. His deal sucked, but it was better than hers if that turned out to be the case. Most anger or aggression based first mode Infected ended up dead. They just couldn't help but kill people that got in their way. Powers plus bad attitude equaled not good things most of the time.
“What do you think Marsh?” She tilted her head as if trying to make the picture of him make sense and wasn't exactly able to.
The lady in white smiled. A grim and shallow thing but an attempt that didn't involve spitting toward him at least.
“Not bad really. Everyday workman is probably better than not for what's coming. A lot better than jack-booted thug. Really, the rest of us should probably do the same thing...” Her tone went considering. Finally he got a nod from the woman in white.
“Good enough. Meeting in half an hour on two Denis. We're between meals now, so go catch something at the dining hall on one, just grab a sandwich or something quick. Meet in the second press room.”
Marcia didn't wait for an answer that he understood or anything she just lifted him from the chair with one hand under his right arm and lightly tossed him into the hall. That he landed on his feet had more to do with her trying to make that happen or at least luck, than any skill of his. Physical stuff had never been his big thing.
The boots felt funny after not wearing anything for a long time, the running shoes had too, but these were more stiff and rubbed a little as he walked, being new. He did so quickly, finding the elevators and doing exactly what the new boss had told him to. Everybody's good little bitch girl. For now.
For six months.
Well, the food on one was better than what he'd gotten in that freaking box, even if it was hastily made by the pretty hostess herself, just beef on rye with mayo and mustard, some pickle spears and real coffee.
God, he'd missed coffee. It fairly seeped into his soul as he sipped, wanting to linger over the china cup for hours, not knowing if anymore would come for a long time. Denis hurried though, enjoying the food and thanking the woman several times for her consideration. No money passed hands here, not even tips, which was a moot point since he didn't have any money now anyway. That had all been taken when he went into lock-up. It was simple enough for them to do, because all his funds had been controlled even before that, to keep him from buying tons of useless crap from the PX. The woman preened a little under the praise and smiled happily at him as he left, giving him a little wave.
So maybe the new look worked for him? That or not being a giant tool. Go figure. He'd always heard that chicks liked bad boys, but apparently there were limits to that effect.
The meeting room on two was big, a forty by sixty space at least, with a large table in the middle, a white oval that had a fake black and white marble stone top and cushioned chairs all around. It looked cool enough. Expensive.
The only person inside so far was one of the team one guys, Argos. Easy to recognize even out of uniform, since the man had light brown hair that was probably called blond most of the time and a face that would have rocked Hollywood if he ever decided to get out of the super-hero biz. Denis nodded when he came in.
“Um, hi.” He said, trying to break the ice. Argos, Jason he remembered now from back in the day, looked at him and smiled.
“Oh, hello! I don't think we've met before. I'm Jay? Team one, kind of a minor player though, so you've probably never heard of me. Argos? I run pretty quick is all.” The tone was humble coming from one of the top known superheroes in the world, but genuine. His first mode was humility. Part of the reason he'd been put on team one of course. That and the fact that he was so good looking. Like, better than movie star looks. It really wasn't fair, Denis thought, but didn't take time to dwell on the idea. A lot of things in life weren't fair. Sometimes people got a good hand like this, sometimes they got stuck in Faithhome with a freaky child molesting and abusing monster. It was just what was.
You dealt.
Denis kind of froze, since he hadn't been recognized and didn't want to bring up all the past bad feelings everyone had for him. Some of which were earned, he reminded himself. Sighing hugely, Denis forced a grin and then shook his head, trying to make it self-depreciating.
“Nah, we've met I'm afraid. I used to be Itch? Denis Tompkins? Now... Well, I'm trying not to be who I was anymore. I hope that we can be friends?” It sounded weak and wimpy, like a sissy had spoken and Denis had to suppress a shudder at himself. Then he had to stop the sarcastic diatribe that wanted to come out to save face and make him seem more manly. It wasn't easy.
Jay got a serious look on his face and went wide eyed.
“Really? Well... that's great! We can use a person with your powers o
n this squad I think. You're kind of the master of crowd control, right? Between you and LG, we should hardly have to work at all. The rest of us I mean. I can go around and clean up trash or something while you two do the real work.” The man didn't smile at him, but also didn't punch him in the sternum at nearly a thousand miles per hour either, so it worked out well enough.
As Jay finished a clutch of people came in, some of them he barely knew. Karen from team one, Lady Glory to the public, smiled at him warmly. Her first mode was compassion though, so she probably didn't have a choice. She was a cute and fit red-head that Denis desperately wanted to bang if he could. He always had. A former Olympic gymnast, so she'd probably be really flexible. Again the words wanted to pop out, but having been alone for months saved him, because with no one around he hadn't talked most of the time. It had become habit.
Mark from team three sat beside him suddenly. It was his power of freezing time for everyone but himself, rather than teleportation. It was way more powerful than it sounded. Probably making him one of the most powerful beings in the world, Denis knew. A really nice guy too, a bit of a big Jewish nose, but hey, he was Jewish, so it worked for him. Good at baking too. Really, Denis decided, he just didn't know the man that well. They'd mainly gotten along, because the guy was completely non-confrontational, even if verbally abused. If he got disrupted mentally time would freeze, a self-defense mechanism that could barely be controlled, so he had to stay calm and collected, no matter what. It left him a little bland emotionally, and sounding a bit like a pot head, but hey, whatever worked. Just to be in the world with the rest of them meant the man had basically mastered his first mode. Abject and total fear. All the time, without end. If he could do that, there had to be hope for Denis, right?
“Denis. Good to see you.” Was all he said, as if nothing had happened. Then to him, maybe it hadn't? It had to be odd to be Mark, living the way he did, because when time stopped he didn't age or change at all, but Denis knew that some of his missions took years to finish, walking across thousands of miles to fix a problem sometimes. It just seemed instant to everyone else. To Mark it meant he probably hadn't seen Denis for decades at this point. That would be normalish to the man though, he didn't see a lot of people to talk to for months and years, then had to pretend that they were just continuing the conversation they'd been having or something like that. It was fucked up.
“You too Mark. How have things been going?” When you don't know what to say, toss the ball back. It was in the books.
The other man nodded, as if thinking for a moment.
“Not too bad. I have a baking show coming out soon, the set's on the first floor here. Cakes and pastries, that kind of thing, it's mainly PR, trying to show that all Infected aren't monsters. Brian's idea.” Tilting his head sideways Mark smiled, a calm thing that looked a little dreamy.
“Would you like to help? I need a couple of assistants for the show, behind the scenes stuff, Infected would be better than not right now, though I want both. We need people to see that we can all get along.”
Denis froze again. Did he look like a freaking Keebler elf to the guy or what? Did the man want him to run around in a little white apron and curtsy too? He took a deep breath and forced a smile. Mark hadn't meant it that way. This was something actually important to him and he'd made a point of inviting Denis too. It wasn't an insult, it was... a compliment? Or at least an offer to prove himself. Denis nodded.
“Sure. I mean, if I have time? I don't know what all I'm expected to do now, but I can wash dishes or whatever. I have no cooking or baking skills though, so be forewarned.” He'd never learned to do more than open a can of something, not even to heat it without a microwave.
That was women's work, according to Prophet Darren. But then he was a giant freak, so maybe using him and his ways as a reference point wasn't the best idea ever?
“No problem. I can show you what to do. It's mainly about paying attention anyway. Good. Now I just have to get two more people for my shows team and we'll be ready. The first taping is tomorrow. The pilot. It's just to give to the network to see if they're interested at all.”
The next people through the door Denis didn't know at all... at first. One looked funny, black and green skin, totally bald and slightly shiny looking like a frog. Big head and skinny little body. Maybe four foot tall. Team two uniform, a dark navy blue jumpsuit. The other person made him blink though.
Clark.
Until a few months ago the guy had been a fellow inmate, one cell over to the right. Telekinetic. A powerful one too if Denis had it right. Also a perv who'd been locked up for diddling a twelve year old girl. True the girl had been asking for it, literally, even sneaking into people's rooms and doing them in their sleep, but Clark had taken it too far, and kept sleeping with the girl even when it had been found out. Nice guy other than that, tall and stork like, Ichabod Crane made real.
Hard to look past child abuse though. Denis really didn't want to be a prick right now and get sent away again, but that kind of thing really ate him up. It took work not to at least start calling the monster names.
The man stumbled into the room hard, pushed by Marcia. Apparently she didn't love the man either. It wasn't a friendly move at all, not even as much as the gentle toss he'd gotten into the hallway earlier, and Clark went sprawling on the floor face first, skidding a little as he fell flat with a “woof” sound being forced out of him from the impact.
“Thank you all for being so timely. Well, we all know what the deal is, but I'll recap anyway, so no one gets lost. Get in a chair Clark.” Her tone had gone cold and she pointed sharply.
That was a new one, Denis decided, for the first time in years he wasn't the most hated man in the room. Things were looking up then.
“Last month our “best friend” in congress, Senator Hooper, used the Canadian event to rush an emergency powers act into place. Thankfully most of that got shut down, so we don't have to relocate to internment camps which was the original idea. But what remains is designed to make all that happen ASAP and turn the public against us.” She waved her right arm at the table of people as she sat, delicately near the door side.
“We've been forced, by an act of congress no less, to put together an “anti-riot squad” to deal with unrest. Since most protests right now are made up of Hooper supporters and diehard anti-Infected bigots... Brilliant move overall, if the goal is to try and fan up even more hate. We are now required, by Federal law, to have at least two people from each team here and at least two “less than perfect” looking members to round things out. Not trying to be rude, but that's Tobin here and LG. I know that most will count Clark too but just in case, we're claiming the blue glowing woman is it, if anyone asks. Supposedly it's an equal rights thing, but it's really just meant to get the bigots riled up. So yes, it's a freaking trap and we're required, by law, to walk into it.”
That sounded like fun to Denis, so much so that he wondered for a second if his old cell was still open. It wasn't just a trap, it was such a bad idea that they might as well just slit their own throats and get it over with then and there. This fact wasn't lost on the others either which kept him from having to be the one pointing it all out.
Karen took a deep breath and let it out with a shudder, looking at their new team leader, a slightly scared thing.
“It's insane Marsh. The second we show up at a rally... Plus, we probably won't get any real backup from the local police, depending on where we go. If they start trying to actively sabotage us...”
Marcia nodded, but it was Clark that spoke next.
“And if we do anything at all, the Hooper clan will claim we were attacking innocent people. What are we supposed to do? Stand out there and die? Beg the would-be rioters to go home, pretty please?” The voice cracked and sounded nervous, which it was, that being his first mode. He still said what was needed though, even when it was hard. Denis had seen him do it more than once, anxious or not. It probably meant the freak was a lot braver than
he seemed. It was easy to stand up to people when you felt calm or even angry. Harder when flop sweat was breaking out all over your forehead.
The new squad leader glared at the guy, mainly because she wanted to kill him for being a pedophile, probably, but didn't get up to strike the man. She didn't even hurl a chair at him.
“Pretty much. We have to be low key and keep things from getting out of hand as much as possible without anyone knowing about it. The kicker is that, again, we're required by law to help the local goons out if they start something. If we use any overt powers though, all hell breaks loose most likely. That's why we're stacking the deck and bringing a secret weapon with us.” A single finger jabbed toward Denis' chair.
“Him.” She grinned. “Mercy. And don't look at me Denis, the PR guys came up with it. It's all about selling you as some kind of soft little nice guy, instead of a thug that's come to kick their collective butts.”
That did it.
Denis nearly stormed out right there. They could kill him, but fucking him around like that wouldn't play, not at all. He stood up and started to walk out when Marcia started laughing at him.
“Oh, I told them you wouldn't go for it. If you've got something better I'll let you run with that. But really, Itch won't work. It's too aggressive and annoying. Mercy's really not that bad, as a propaganda name.”
Maybe. It was however a girl's name. Were they trying to make him look gay on purpose? Probably, people did that kind of shit. He opened his mouth to tell her to go fuck herself with a broom handle, when he remembered all that feel good self-help crap. Breathe. He tried it, going slow and exhaling in a steady fashion, then he made himself relax.
