5
Alex
Damn.
I let out a hiss of pain as I examined myself in the bathroom mirror, reaching up to touch my still-tender nose. Noticing several darker bruises on my forearms, I winced before rolling down my sleeves. Thank God the body armor had taken most of it, or that fight would have left me more than a little banged up.
Of course, thanks to that fight, I wasn’t sure if I could even wear the damn suit again.
After the job was finished, I had returned to the locker room to take off my armor, only to find that when I undid the straps, it was pretty much disintegrating in my hands. We had two problems. The pieces that covered my forearms, which I had used to block the blows that I couldn’t dodge, were filled with cracks. Plus the headbutt had left the helmet partially caved in at the front, providing me with some serious vision issues for the rest of the night. As I had taken these pieces off, all I could do was stare at them.
How strong did you need to be to break something like that?
And was she tough enough to survive that fall?
I frowned. We had been so focused on the mission, that we hadn’t had time to check. That, and the police had started showing up just as we were leaving.
I winced again, reaching for the medicine cabinet, the memory of the woman in red fresh in my mind. I didn’t like the idea of hitting girls. Of course, when you were dealing with someone who could tear the doors off vans and make mincemeat of military-grade hardware, maybe the rules were a little outdated. But even with the truth staring me in my bruised face, the memory still made me uncomfortable.
So I tried to focus on the positive. The white envelope Calypso had passed me at the end of the night.
I closed the medicine cabinet, rolled down my sleeves to hide the bruises, then made my way down the stairs and into the kitchen. I found my sister Mariah in an all-too-familiar position, sitting at the table with a textbook open in front of her, her breakfast of peanut butter on toast already forgotten.
“Morning, Mariah,” I said, heading to the cabinets.
She looked up at the sound of my voice. The family resemblance was obvious. We shared the same dark-brown curling hair and naturally tanned skin, a combination we had inherited from our father. But where I had Dad’s tall, stocky build, Mariah was small and thin. Our younger sister Claire looked more like our mother had: blonde, fair, and willowy.
I noticed, with a hint of satisfaction, that the circles under Mariah’s eyes weren’t as prominent as before. I had only been working as Faultline for a couple months now, but our lives were already improving. It’s true that the job Calypso had secured for me at Colossus Fitness wasn’t enough to pay both our bills and debt payments. It was the hazard pay, the large paydays that came from special jobs, that did that. Now, we weren’t nearly as behind on our mortgage payments, the shut-off notices from the power company had stopped coming, and we could eat like proper omnivores again. Calypso has even hinted that she would pitch in for the classes that would help me become a personal trainer, which would result in a better salary at Colossus.
I wasn’t dumb. I could see what she was doing, making me dependent on her, but it was the best-paying, most reliable job I had had in my twenty-four-year lifespan. If I stuck with it, it wouldn’t be long before we were ahead of the game.
“You were out late last night,” I heard her say as I ducked into the fridge for milk.
“Yeah, went out with some friends.”
My sister didn’t reply, her eyes dropping down to the textbook in front of her. I pretended not to notice, keeping all my attention on combining cereal with milk.
“How are classes?” I asked, taking a seat, bowl of Cheerios in hand.
“Actually, really good.” She let out a small smile. “I can’t believe I’m starting my internship next semester.”
I nodded. Mariah was studying for her bachelors in nursing. Until this semester it had been really touch and go. She had gotten a scholarship, student loans, even a job as a TA, but it still wasn’t enough to cover both school and life stuff. That, and it didn’t seem fair that she should bury herself in debt because we had dared to fall behind on the bills when Mom had been dying.
Then Calypso had entered our lives.
“Electric bill’s due in a week.” Mariah nodded to the stack of bills on the table, as permanent a fixture as any centerpiece. “I’m a little worried about making this payment plan. If I were still working—”
“It’s fine,” I said, pulling out the white envelope from my pocket.
Mariah went still for a moment. Then she reached for it and looked inside. She breathed out once, then looked back up at me.
“Ally,” she said, dropping back to the nickname that had driven me nuts when we were kids.
“With that and what we already have, you should be able to pay all the bills this month. Make sure you use money orders. Don’t go to the bank.”
“But Alex—”
“And there’s money in there for books too,” I continued. “I know you have to buy more since you’re full-time now. And just relying on the library hasn’t worked in the past.”
“But…”
“I kept some back for the groceries. Seeing as I eat more than both you and Claire combined, it’s only fair that I do the shopping.”
“Alex!”
Mariah’s raised voice cut me off.
“Where…does this money come from?” She gripped the white envelope. “I see your paychecks and they’re not this good. Where did you get this?”
I let out a sigh.
“Don’t worry about it, Mariah.”
“Is it…are you spending time with Alessandro and Brady again?”
I shook my head. Alessandro and Brady were two guys I had gone to high school with. Being your typical angry teenage guys without an outlet, we had done some stupid, but comparatively minor things, like breaking into cars. Back when the shit had hit the fan with Mom, they had approached me again, with bigger fish on their mind. I had been ready to join them, eager for the money and desperate for the distraction, but Mariah had found out and talked me out of it. It had been, in retrospect, a good call.
“No,” I said. “I’m not. Think those guys are in jail now, anyway. I’m just doing work on the side.”
“What kind of work?”
“Well, one of the guys at the gym is doing all this construction on his house and needs someone to haul Sheetrock and stuff like that. I’ve always been good with my hands, you know that, and I’m as strong as two guys. It just takes him a few weeks to get the money together. That’s why it comes all at once.”
“Is that why your face is bruised up today? And your arms?”
“Occupational hazard.” I shrugged, fighting the urge to tug my sleeves down even farther.
“But it’s so much…”
“Mariah.”
A growl entered my voice. Why couldn’t she just take the money? Couldn’t she see how much good it would do for us? Now, she could be in school full time instead of juggling studying with shitty retail jobs that didn’t seem to care when she had to be at class. She could get her degree, become a nurse, and get a good paying job helping people instead of constantly putting off doing what she wanted because of our lack of funds.
And if I needed to drag a few overweight, middle-aged, overpaid lawyers out of their offices in order to do so, it was worth it. If I wasn’t involved, Calypso would have found someone else to do it. At least this way, I was the one getting paid.
“You guys aren’t, like, fighting, are you?”
Both Mariah and I glanced up to see our younger sister Claire entering the room, shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight that filtered in through the blinds.
“If you’re gonna do that,” she said, pulling up to the table, “at least make it quiet.”
“Good morning. Did you sleep?” Mariah asked with a frown.
“Claire, are you hungover?” I chose the more direct method.
“Oh, you always assume the worst,” Claire replied. “Pass the cereal.”
I complied.
“You didn’t answer me,” I said.
Claire rolled her eyes.
“Fine,” she replied, accepting the cereal box. “No, I just think I have another migraine coming on.”
I paused, never sure when one of my youngest sister’s “migraines” was an actual headache or something else.
“Claire, you were out late last night,” Mariah added.
“Geez, can’t I at least get settled before I get the fifth degree? Besides, it’s not like I was the only one.”
She cast a pointed look in my direction.
“Yeah, but I’m not seventeen,” I replied.
“Age is only a number, big brother. And don’t act like you’re all Mr. Innocent.”
“What does that mean?” I narrowed my eyes.
“From what I hear, your youthful excursions put mine to shame.”
I scowled in response. Claire was too young to put that much dry disdain in her voice, yet she always managed it. She had always been one to push boundaries, but since Mom passed, we hadn’t been able to keep up with her. Barely a week went by when we didn’t get a phone call from the assistant principal letting us know she hadn’t shown up to class, or had shown up reeking of pot. It was true that none of this approached my string of vehicular B&Es, but that was only the stuff we knew about. What was Claire successfully hiding from us?
“So where were you last night?” I asked.
“Church.”
“Don’t you bullshit me!”
“Claire,” Mariah warned softly.
“I don’t know,” Claire said. “Why don’t you tell me where you were last night, and why that seemed to involve another big envelope of cash and you getting all bruised up again?”
She nodded toward the envelope. Mariah reached out and pulled it closer to her.
“That’s beside the point.” I shook my head.
“Why? Because you’re past that mythical age marker that states you’re an adult and fuck the rest of the world?” Claire said, her tone growing sharper.
“Claire!” Mariah said again.
“How about the fact that I don’t piss all my responsibilities away. That I actually work to support this family?” I said.
“I could work,” Claire said.
“Tell that to the last two jobs you were fired from.”
“Fuck you!”
And with that, she shoved the bowl in front of her forward, the dry cereal scattering across the kitchen table. Claire pushed her chair back and stomped off without a word.
“I can’t believe her,” I muttered under my breath.
“You bait her.”
I looked at Mariah, who was standing up from her seat. She reached out and began to brush all of the loose cereal into a pile. I crossed my arms in front of my chest.
“Well, what am I supposed to do? It’s not like Mom can—”
“I know. I know. It’s just…these screaming matches never really accomplish anything. Except for wasted cereal.”
I let out a long sigh and pushed myself back from the table. I grabbed for my half-eaten bowl of soggy Cheerios.
“I’ll let you get back to studying,” I said.
I made it up to my room, the same bedroom I had been using since I was a kid. It was a small space dominated by a large bed covered in twisted sheets and pillows. An old battered dresser, covered in a couple of overdue library books and fitness magazines from Colossus, stood next to the one window. I slammed the bowl down on it, spilling milk across one of the magazines. I could feel tension building up in my shoulders, in the clenching of my jaw.
I knew I had a temper. It was nothing new. But I needed to be more careful. It was, after all, how I accessed my powers.
I’m a big guy, stronger than most. If anyone was stupid enough to mess with me in a dark alley, it was almost unfair to defend myself. But my real power came when I got angry. And the angrier I got, the more clearly the fault lines became to me. Every surface had a weakness. If I could just hit in the right way, with the right amount of force, the ground would crack beneath my feet.
It was all about finding the weak points and exploiting them.
It was a gift my sisters seemed to share, at least when it came to finding the fault lines in me.
6
Dawn
Bzzzt…Bzzzt…
The sound of my vibrating phone managed to stir me from my pillow-and-blanket-induced coma. I groaned and reached over to pluck the smartphone from among the scattered papers on my desk, which sat at the foot of my bed. I squinted at the screen to see the name “Sunshine Campbell.” I frowned. Why was she calling so early?
“Hello?” I said once I had regained the ability to speak.
“Hey, Dawn? Is everything okay?”
There was a very un-Sunshine-like tremor in her voice. I pushed myself into a sitting position.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Are you…” My voice trailed off as I caught sight of my alarm clock. The glowing numbers read 9:20 AM. My mind snapped into focus. I had planned to meet Sunshine for breakfast twenty minutes ago.
“Oh shit, Sunshine. I’m sorry—” I began.
“No! I can tell from your voice that you just slept in. Which, all things considered, makes more sense than, well…have you seen the news?”
“No…”
“Right, that whole being-asleep thing.” Sunshine paused, as if taking a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice was calmer. “I guess I can promise to forgive you for standing me up if you promise to ignore the two previous messages I left on your phone.”
“Sunshine, I understand. Don’t worry about it at all.”
“Thank you,” she replied, a clear note of relief in her voice. “I guess I’ll see you in English Novel.”
“Sounds good.” I yawned. “I’ll focus on waking up.”
After bidding Sunshine good-bye, I placed the phone on my desk, wondering if the “news” she had mentioned was somehow related to my nighttime antics. It was impossible to forget the whistling of the wind as I plunged downward faster than…
I froze. I wasn’t in any pain. I clenched my right hand a couple times. Nope, no pain. Had my healing powers returned? What did that mean about everything else? I stood up, and dashed out of the room, half-tripping over my own blankets as I exited the bed. Once I made it to the bathroom, I checked over myself in the mirror, twisting around in an awkward attempt to check out where most of the damage had been—my back. Not a mark stood out.
Okay. I was fine. So did that mean…
I looked in the mirror, then closed my eyes. I waited for two breaths.
When I opened them again, my costume had reappeared, not a single stitch out of place. I let out a sigh of relief and changed back. Once I had, I found myself resting my hands on the sides of the sink, whispering the same words over and over again.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
The trip back home the previous night had been decidedly un-fun. First, there had been the pain-filled, five-story trek down to the bottom level of the parking garage as I attempted to get away before the police showed up. Then, I had hobbled down the street, doing my best to dodge broken glass in the fuzzy slippers I had donned before transforming at home. I had managed to put a decent amount of distance (well, five blocks) between me and the Commerce Center before the remaining aches and pains from the fall became too much for me. I called for an Uber driver who, thankfully, had held back on making comments about my appearance. I could tell from the way he had looked at me that he had realized something wasn’t right, but probably above his pay grade.
The worst of it had happened after I had arrived home and made it up both flights of stairs. When I had collapsed on my bed and, finding myself without a concrete goal in front of me, was left with nothing but my own thoughts. Was that it? Would my powers ever return? Had I squandered my one chance of becoming an Actual? Was I stu
ck as the pathetic Dawn Takahashi for the rest of my life?
And did I even deserve to get my powers back?
After all, I had let Marty and Noel walk right up to Mr. Hamilton’s door without stopping them. Had I only made a better choice…
I shook my head, bringing myself back to the present. Clearly, I had lost access to my powers because I had used them up. My abilities were finite, and last night I had discovered just how much it took to reach the bottom of that barrel.
My stomach growled loudly. It looked like it would be better to think about this over breakfast.
I cracked two eggs into a skillet and they immediately started to sizzle. As I rumbled around for a spatula, I found myself listening to a news story playing on my laptop from the nearby breakfast nook. I suspected it was the same thing on every channel.
“According to security footage, Arthur Hamilton was attacked in his office at 8:40 PM. The dramatic kidnapping, which happened via helicopter, occurred only minutes later. Police are currently searching for the perpetrators, as can be seen in this image.”
I glanced up from the eggs to see a shot of Marty and Noel standing in the elevator. The image failed to capture Noel’s fear, but somehow contained Marty’s swagger perfectly.
I recognized the voice of the newscaster as Deanna Sommerville. She was a relative newcomer whose father, Jason Sommerville, had been a longtime staple on Channel 4 when I was little. I watched as the image of Marty and Noel shifted back to the dark-haired, blue-eyed anchorwoman with her perfectly white teeth. Deanna continued to speak.
“Police are currently investigating the potential identity of these two men as well as this woman.”
And then, to my shock, they displayed an image of me in in the elevator.
“This costumed individual, locally known as Miss Red and Black, was the first to arrive on the scene. After discovering the body of security guard Steven Saunders, she called 911 and attempted to take on the two assailants herself. The fate of Red and Black is currently unknown, although some have reported seeing her plunging from Arthur Hamilton’s window during the kidnapping. Her body was not found at the scene.”
Red and Black Page 6
