by R. J. Ross
"Really? You mean it?" Aubrey asks.
"Yeah, I mean it. There's no way we can turn him back into a norm, but I think we can turn him into a working cape. Drug him, Bonny, he doesn't need to be awake for this one."
"Yes, Mr. Technico," Bonny says. I hear a rustling noise and feel a needle poke me. Then I'm unconscious again.
***
Something's different. I feel like that tightness around my chest has disappeared. I feel like I can--I can open my eyes! Holy crap I've got my eyes open! I'm looking at the ceiling, which is really, really boring, but I'm actually looking and that's the important part!
I take a deep breath. I can breathe! I move my hand, twitching it before my mind figures out how to use it again, and make a fist. "Hey--" I whisper harshly. My mouth is so dry. It feels like my tongue is swollen and taking up most of it.
"You're awake?" I find myself looking at the most dangerous looking mother--er, man--I've ever seen. I know that face. I know that voice even better. It's Technico, Zoe's dad. "Good. We need that bed. Get up, you should be able to, now."
"Water," I rasp out. A woman in a black nurse's outfit moves forward, slipping a straw into my mouth. I take a drink, almost choke, and drink some more. It feels good being able to swallow easily. When she pulls away the straw I start to sit up. She looks panicked.
"You shouldn't be--"
"He's fine," Technico says. "He's in better shape than most. Aubrey's got skills I never thought I'd see in someone her age."
I feel a little light headed, really, but I'm sitting up. I hold my hand up, staring at the thin metal lines that swirl over my flesh. "I thought I was fine," I say, making sure I can use my fingers, still.
"You are. But until you learn to control it, that metal on your skin is permanent. We pulled it away from the joints, you should be able to move them, but we had to move it somewhere," Technico says. "I hope you don't mind avoiding metal scanners for the rest of your life."
"What?" I ask.
"All of your bones are coated with the metal, so is over ninety percent of your flesh and all of your hair. You probably won't be growing any taller, but hey, you're over six feet, you should be fine. You will weigh more, though."
I lift my arm, making a face as I feel the weight. "Uh... yeah," I say. What have I turned myself into? "Who uh... who's Aubrey?" Where's Aubrey, I want to ask. I want to see her, but that's stupid. She's probably a moron. No, there's no probably about it. Only a moron helps out guys they don't even know, right? So I should avoid her--
"School," Technico says. "Where you'll be going, soon enough. I've already talked with Marge."
Marge. Oh man, I forgot completely about Marge! "She--" I start out.
"She knows. Everything," Technico says bluntly. "Including what you are, now. She's been calling me daily, and now that you're up and talking, she'll be calling you, as well. She loves you, you know."
"Not likely," I mutter. "You should have just let me die."
"You know, I would almost agree with you on that," Technico says. "You were pretty much touch and go there for a while. If Zoe hadn't done what she did, or had screwed it up, you'd have been dead several months ago. But she made a deal with me, and she's kept her side of it so I'm keeping mine. Now get up, get dressed, you're moving in with America's Son's family."
"What? Why?" I demand.
"Because they live in the apartment, which makes you close to me and Aubrey, since I moved her in with Liz and Emily. Unfortunately, with your type of powers, we need to keep a close eye on you. Otherwise I'd stick you in the dorm with the zoo kids."
"Zoo kids?" I ask. "What are they, bigger freaks than I am?"
"I'd watch that term if I were you," Technico says. "You might be tougher than a lot of people now, but your life was saved by one of them."
"Yeah, whatever," I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest only to get distracted by the metal swirls again. I bring my hand up, staring at it in wonder. "This is... seriously awesome," I say, making a fist. What? Piercings and tattoos are all cool, but this is like, on a totally different level of awesome.
"You'll be able to control it with practice," Technico says. "But come on, we need that bed."
"Yeah," I say, dropping my legs over the edge and getting to my feet. I weigh a freaking ton. I stagger a few steps forward before getting my balance. "What about my stuff?" I ask, still stuck on the idea of living in the same apartment as a super hero. I mean, are they expecting me to become a hero or something? I don't want to be a hero! That would suck!
"Already at the apartment," Technico says. It's about this time that I feel a definite draft from the back. I look down, staring at the green paper thing I'm wearing.
"Can I get some pants?" I say.
A pair of pants hit me in the face.
***
The Hall itself is like a business building, as far as I can tell. I mean, everywhere I look there's more people in black suits carrying files and talking about mechanics and stuff. I haven't seen a single hero yet, actually, which strikes me as weird. "This is the Hall, right?" I ask Technico after we pass a large crowd of black suits.
"Yeah, it is," he says, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. He's wearing a T-shirt that has a cartoon version of America's Son on it. I have no idea why.
"Then where are the heroes?"
"We're in the hospital ward," Technico says. "They're either so beat up they're in a room, or they aren't here."
"Oh."
"Not going to ask about Zoe?" he asks.
I shrug. "She's um... she probably hates me," I say finally. "I mean, since she always did."
"And she's dating Maximum," he agrees. "So we'll clear this up right now. You don't have a chance, so I suggest you find a group to hang with, figure out whether you're a hero or a villain, learn how to use your abilities, and most importantly, find a girl that isn't dating a guy that could still kill you even with your new abilities."
"Hey, I'm not a pushover, you know," I snap.
"No, you're not," he agrees. "But neither is Maximum. Even if he is a super shorty."
I snort, shoving my own hands into my pockets. He never gave me a shirt--or even shoes, I think, glancing down at my metal laced feet. I see several of the black suits do double takes, looking at me in surprise, then turning quickly and pretending not to. I flip one of the guys off when he takes too long staring.
"Until you're declared a super villain officially," Technico says, "you might watch yourself around the suits. They might not be capes, but they're trained well enough to take you down as you are right now."
"It's his own fault," I mutter, reaching up self consciously and running a hand over my metal laced chest. "Starin' at me. Why don't I have a shirt, anyway?" I add, looking at him.
"You didn't ask."
"Wh--you--can I PLEASE have a shirt and some shoes?" I ask irritably.
He pulls a tanktop and a pair of flipflops out of the bag over his shoulder, handing them over. They're both black, which I appreciate, but not enough to tell him. I tug them on and start walking again. I feel a little less vulnerable, which is ridiculous. I've got freaking metal bones now. METAL BONES.
That's seriously awesome. But it's also exhausting, I think as we get to stairs. "Hey, why don't I have like, super strength now?" I demand. "I'm already tired."
"You do," Technico says. "But it's something that I think you'll be growing into. Although, honestly, you're already starting to show it a bit. You've got to weigh at least three times as much as you used to. We haven't weighed you proper yet, we'll find out soon enough."
"So... over three hundred pounds?" I ask, stunned at the very idea of being that heavy. That's the size of a football player or bigger. "But I'm not bigger," I say, looking at my arm and patting my stomach.
"You're just heavier."
"Huh." I look at him. "I'm taking the elevator," I say, heading for the elevator door rather than even attempting the stairs. He starts laughing and I feel my neck get warm
out of embarrassment, but you try going down who knows how many flights of stairs with three times your usual weight. I'm having enough trouble staying upright.
Technico steps into the elevator with me, along with a handful of black suits. I find myself getting several curious looks from the suits before Technico speaks. "You can call Marge when we get outside, your phone won't reach from inside here."
"She won't care," I say, watching the lights over the door obsessively. I don't weigh so much that it'll break, do I? Especially considering how many other people are in here with me--
"Sure she won't care," Technico drawls. "She'll just hunt you down and figure out how to get through my security system to hit you over the head for being a moron."
I can't think of anything to say, so I just count down until we're to G on the lights and step out when the door opens. Thing is... you know, considering all the crap I've done in the past--running around, getting in trouble, you realize the cops in the area knew me by name, right? I still... well, I still like Marge. She's the only lady that's put up with me for as long as she has. She's the closest thing I got to a mom, basically. Not that I would ever call her that in front of the other kids in the home, but it's true.
He leads me through the garage full of boring carbon copy cars and minivans, stopping at the one car that stands out. A firebird. It needs a paint job and looks like it came straight out of a junkyard. I stare at him, even as he pulls the driver side door open and gets in. "Either get in or walk," he says.
I get in. "Aren't you a super hero?" I ask. "Don't super heroes get paid enough to not have to drive crap cars like this one?"
"When you can fly, how often do you really need one?" he asks as he turns the car on and glances at me. "Call Marge."
"Can't, don't got a phone," I say, staring out the window. I don't really want to call her, either. She's just going to yell at me.
I blink as a phone lands on my lap. "Use mine."
Slowly I pick it up, only to blink as it starts to smash within my hold. "Gently," he says. "I just rebuilt that."
I hold it as gently as I can, punching in Marge's phone number. The phone rings for a few times before a breathless Marge answers. "Nico? Has something happened?"
"Um... hey, Marge," I say.
She screams my name, making me wince and stick a finger in my ear until she's done. "What do you think you were doing, mister?" she demands. "You about gave me a heart attack! What in the world were you thinking? Are you okay? Can you walk again? Are you--"
"Marge!" I say. "I'm okay! I mean... sort of okay," I add, looking at my hand. "I'm a walking tank or something, but I'm alive. Uh... Marge... you know--"
"You'll be joining the Hall, won't you?"
"I dunno--I'm just--well... I guess, something like that," I say, not about to go, "You seriously think I'll be a hero?" right now when she's finally calmed down. "Look--um... I'm sorry you had to put up with me all these years," I tell her, feeling extremely self conscious of Technico listening to everything I say. "But hey, it's over now, right?"
"I have never thought of it as putting up with you," she says. "You're the closest I get to a son, you know. Don't become a stranger just because you're moving out."
"You probably say that to everyone," I drawl.
"Only the cute ones," she says, making me laugh. "But you'd better call me at least once a week, understand? And come over whenever you get the chance!"
"Yeah, yeah," I say. "But... thanks, Marge."
"You're welcome," she says with a hint of a smile.
I hang up and hand the phone back, staring out the window as we drive down the street. He doesn't say anything. Usually when someone's taking me in for the first time they try and make small talk, try to "get to know me" and "be my friend." It's a waste of time for both of us, but it's still better than most silences, right? Except this silence isn't like those awkward silences that I've experienced millions of times. This is more like "I got nothin' to say and you got nothin' I need to know, so I'll ignore you now."
It's... oddly comfortable. I'm half asleep when he finally speaks. "Ken's a preacher, by the way."
"What?" I ask, jerking awake again.
"The guy I'm sticking you with. He's a preacher."
"America's Son... is a preacher," I repeat blankly.
Technico grins at me. "He's out to save us all."
***
He pulls into a parking lot of an old apartment building, parks next to a four wheel drive, and gets out, leaving me to get out as well and stand on my own. Look, I've already said I wasn't a pushover, but this is a low car and I suddenly weigh three times my old weight. I growl under my breath as I pull myself out, bracing myself when I stand upright.
I can hear people talking, so I'm not that surprised when I turn and see a crowd of people standing in front of the apartment building. I am surprised to see Zoe and Max standing right there in the middle of it. All of a sudden I feel like there's a cold steel ball in my stomach, right along with the stuff that lines my bones. I feel a bit sick.
Then a girl breaks away from the edge of the group, grinning brilliantly as she heads for--she's heading straight for me. She's a little taller and a lot curvier than Zoe is, with brown hair that's pulled up in a pony tail. She's wearing a t-shirt and those jeans that look too long for shorts and too short for jeans. She's cute. She's also about my age, and she's heading straight for me like she knows me. Does she even realize who I am? Probably not--
"Jack!" she says. "You're awake!" She's running now, and--she's wrapping her arms around my waist and--
"Shi--" I start out, toppling backwards with the imbalance of weight and falling onto the concrete. She looks at me blankly, sprawled on top of me and looking completely confused.
"Hi," she says.
"You can get off me," I say.
"Are you okay? What happened?" she demands. I know who she is, now.
"Aubrey, right?" I say.
"You know my name?"
"Yeah. But I still ain't used to--me, yet. So get off so I can get up, okay?" I ask in a gentler tone than I was planning.
"Oh! Right, um--just--" she says, trying and failing to get off of me a few times before being picked up by a teenager from behind. It's a tall blonde--wait, I know this guy.
"Jack," Trent Styles says, moving Aubrey behind him in a protective manner before reaching down and picking me up by the armpits. Wait. What? Trent? This quiet little wimp that never even went to gym--he's lifting me like I'm a little kid! "Put on a little weight, huh?" he says, putting me on my feet.
"When did you get experimented on?" I ask him.
"Never. I was born this way," Trent says, trying to stop Aubrey from sneaking around him with an arm. She keeps trying one side then the other, only to get caught. "Aubrey, I think you should go stand with Emily," he says when she tries to duck under his arm and gets grabbed by the back of her t-shirt.
"Hey," she says. "That's my patient! I have every right to check and see that he's okay!" she declares.
"Aubrey," he says, his tone a bit impatient. "You don't know Jack. You might have worked on him, but you don't know him, get it?"
"He's right," Sunny says, stepping forward from the crowd. "It's been a while, Jack." I look at him, scowling slightly, then look at Zoe, who's just standing there, watching me with a bland expression.
"Sunny. Zoe," I add, nodding to her. I completely ignore Max.
"Jack," Zoe says. "I'm glad you're alive."
"That makes one of us," I mutter, starting for the apartment building, only to get grabbed by Trent.
"Wait," he says. "Even you wouldn't survive that."
"Survive what?" I ask. He crouches down, picking up a small pebble and throwing it at the apartment. It goes up in sparks as it hits an invisible barrier.
"Nico's defense system," Trent says. "And you'll be staying with my family."
"Wait--you mean you're--" I stare at him blankly as he looks at me.
"America's Son's kid," he pr
ovides. "Kid Liberty." A tiny redhead girl runs up, grabbing his arm. "And this is Emily, my future partner."
Aubrey slips free, heading straight for me again and shoving my tanktop up. "Wh--what the hell are you doing?" I ask, trying to tug my tanktop back down again.
"There was a spot that I was worried about," she says, pressing her hand against my chest. "Let me check if it's still behaving."
"Aubrey, honey, do you really think this is the place for that?" a tall blonde woman asks as she heads for us. "Why don't we get everyone inside first?"
"Oh, right, um, sorry Star Spangled," Aubrey says, pulling her hand away and straightening my top as she blushes brightly.
"Shouldn't you have blushed BEFORE groping me?" I ask her.
"I didn't grope you!" she says, looking offended by that.
"You groped him," Emily says, grinning evilly.
"Well, if we're done teasing Aubrey again, why don't we head in?" Technico says from where he's talking with a tall blonde man that looks a lot like Trent. He stops next to a rock on the concrete. It shoots up, revealing that it’s a really high tech panel. “Jack, you’re already logged into the system, so all you have to do is place your hand on the panel and step on the glowing footprints,” he adds as people start doing what he just described as if they’ve done it a million times before.
“You know... I was kidnapped by the guys, and I still think this is overkill,” I have to admit as I walk past him.
“Not yet, but it will be when I get ahold of them,” Technico says quietly. I look around at the shoddy looking main floor, wondering if anyone had even bothered to sell this building to them or if it had been condemned for being uninhabitable but never knocked down. Not exactly the place I pictured a ton of super heroes living, honestly. "If they see you moving around like you are now, they'll want you back," he goes on. "So stay in the apartments or the school."
"What?" I say, turning to stare at him. "Seriously?"
"Yeah," he says, an unmovable expression on his face.
I let out a curse. "Why didn't you just stick me in prison or something, instead?" I demand. "I was already close to going to juvie--send me there! At least then I'll be around people like me!"
