by Ross, R. J.
“He would show off, wouldn’t he?” Negatia says, making Crashtastic look back as she steps into the room. “Well, he’s dating a technopath, so it figures he’d get one of those teleportation devices.”
“I always thought he was just a villain for pay,” Crashtastic admits, looking at her.
“Oh, he is,” the beautiful woman says, “but he’s also Mastermental’s son. Be very careful when you’re in their territory, Crashtastic. You’re cute, but you’ve done nothing to make me feel like saving you if you get yourself into trouble.” She pats him on the arm twice before walking away. He stares after her, wondering why he suddenly feels a little nauseous.
***
*Two Days Later, Central*
Crashtastic tugs on his collar, looking at the woman sitting on the edge of his hotel bed. “Honey, you didn’t have to come along,” he says as she stands and walks over to straighten his tie for him. “Weren’t you planning on reading the scripts you’ve been sent?”
“I can do that anywhere,” Phoebe says, smiling at him. “Right now, I need do it here, so I can support my man.” She pecks him on the lips. “This is a big deal for you, right?”
“Well, you told me to try—” he starts out.
“You’ll do more than try,” she says firmly, “you’ll succeed. You’re going to be the biggest name in the business, sweetie, and I’m going to proudly walk by your side as you walk the red carpet. I’ve got the dress all picked out, already.”
“That does sound good,” he says, his mind full of visions of her in revealing dresses, and every man in the world watching them, enviously.
“You’re going to be late, baby,” she purrs.
“Are you coming along?” he asks.
“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” she says. “I have a LOT of work to do. Why don’t you go on ahead, and I’ll be here, waiting to celebrate with you when you get back.”
“Are you sure? This might be the only opportunity you have to see the hidden parts of a Hall,” he tempts her.
“And how will you explain bringing your girlfriend to work?” she counters, patting him on the cheek. “Be brave, Ben, you’re super.”
“I just hate the thought of dragging you all the way to nowhere, like this, and leaving you in a cheap hotel room,” he says. “How can I make it up to you?”
“By going on to be famous, of course!” she says. “Now go, or they’ll think you’re always late to things.”
“You’re right,” he says, looking at his watch before kissing her on the cheek. “I’ll be back in no time.”
“I hope not! You need to take this seriously. Your future is hinged on this!”
He laughs and heads out the door, leaving her to stand there for all of a moment before heading for her massive pile of luggage. He hadn’t asked about why she had brought so much this time. She’d convinced him that no woman travels without at least four pieces of luggage just to survive. She pulls open two of them, looking over the variety of makeup and wigs inside. She has a creepy smile on her face until she has to stop because she’s applying makeup there. She glances over at the tablet propped on the table next to her, watching a woman reporting on HTV.
That video is all she needs, at least for now. It won’t get her into the back part of the Hall, she knows, but it might get her some information. She always has Crashtastic for the other part.
“This is Barbara Gentry from HTV,” she says, practicing the voice and expression in her mirror, “signing off.”
***
“Mega! Hi, Mega! Down here!” a somewhat familiar looking woman shouts up to the super. Mega stops mid-flight, searching his mental list of women. It isn’t someone he’s dated, he decides as he starts down, so it’s probably something that needs to be done—like a cat in a tree. He dislikes cats, but he ignores that fact and pastes an easy smile on his face. The smile turns brighter as his mind finally supplies a name to the face.
“Barbara Gentry, right?” he says, landing in front of her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’m surprised you recognized me,” she says, smiling flirtatiously, “since I specialize in the legwork.”
“How can I not recognize my favorite HTV reporter?” he asks, giving her his own flirtatious smile. “How can I help you on this beautiful day?”
“I was thinking of doing a follow up on the whole Star Born situation,” she says. “The entire world wants to know what you’re going to use her for.”
“Star Born?” he repeats, searching his memory. “You mean the scientist that was in the Cape Cells?”
“Yes. She’s the one that’s at the Hall right now,” Barbara says. “Is there any way you could get me inside to interview her? There are a lot of people that have a vested interest in her future.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible,” he says, racking his brain for a way to stay in her good graces and still turn her down. He likes the HTV reporters having a good opinion of him. Heck, he likes WOMEN having a good opinion of him, which means he’s got twice as much on the line here.
“I’m certain that someone as high up at the Hall as you are is more than capable of getting me a tiny interview,” she says, looking up at him. “You ARE one of the most popular capes in the Central Hall, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes, of course I am—” he starts out.
“You’re my favorite, too,” she says.
“I’m flattered,” he says, honestly. Barbara Gentry is a very attractive woman, after all. It doesn’t hurt that she’s a super! Now that he has a son to worry about, he’s been thinking it would be good to set an example for the boy. A steady relationship might not be so bad—
“So you can get me that interview?” she asks.
“I can get you that interview,” he says, rashly. She smiles brilliantly at him, clasping his hand between both of hers.
“You’re a hero, to me and all of the capes dying to hear what’s happening with her,” she says, looking him in the eyes.
Something’s wrong, he thinks abruptly, a tiny frown pulling at his lips. There’s something off about her…
“Can we go, now?” she asks, eagerly.
“Well, um, I don’t see why not,” he says, shoving his thoughts aside. “Let’s be off.”
***
*Not too far away*
It’s a rather unsettling sight, if he’s going to be honest. There, casually hanging out in the park, are three Liberties, sitting on a picnic table. Well, Crashtastic thinks, he supposes he can call them “Liberties.” America’s Son is not a boy, so calling them all the traditional “Liberty Boys” makes him feel a bit awkward—especially since he’s almost positive that two, or possibly all three of them could wipe the floor with his face. No, he tells himself, this is no time to back down. “America’s Son, Kid Liberty, and… Cold Steel,” he says, walking over to them and holding out a hand to each in turn. “Thank you SO much for this opportunity. I really don’t think I could do this without your help.”
“Follow our old man around like a stalker?” Cold Steel says with a dry look at the hand offered, “Probably not.”
“Jack,” Kid Liberty says, and Crashtastic looks at him expectantly, waiting to be stood up for, “even with our help, he’d still have trouble if Max hadn’t agreed to this.”
“You’re right. We should have a little talk with Max after this, shouldn’t we?” The brothers look at each other, matching looks on their faces.
That… had not been what he expected. “Boys, boys,” America’s Son says, “that’s your hunger speaking. I apologize, Crashtasma—”
“Crashtastic,” Crashtastic says.
“But we Liberty Boys run on our stomachs. Do you mind if we change and get something to eat before we start?”
“Are both of the… teens joining us for this job?” Crashtastic asks. He’s feeling a bit out-numbered. He shoves his insecurity down. He’s FAMOUS, or, at least, he’s going to be. These three are just cheesy live actors that run around in ratty clothing or
tights.
“We thought it would be the easiest way. The movie is based on the family, right?” America’s Son says. “So if you’re trying for the part of, well, me, then you need to know how I interact with my boys.”
Cold Steel gives Crashtastic the most evil grin he’s ever seen, one that shines metallic.
“Can I ask, how do you plan to hide… well, you?” Crastastic asks him. The teen brings up his thick black leather watch and taps on it. He seems to blur for a second before a semi-normal punk sits where he’d just been.
“Did Nico tweak that? You’re looking less skinny, this time,” Kid Liberty says.
“Nah, I talked Zoe into doing it in exchange for an extra trip to the junkyard for parts.”
“It’s good to see that the two of you are getting along better,” America’s Son says.
“So you… just let him run around with a watch that can turn him into anyone?” Crashtastic asks, stunned. “Is that even smart?”
They just look at him for a second, before America’s Son says gently, “You don’t seem to be… as acquainted with Hall policies as we assumed. Do you not do much for your Hall?”
“Um, well—”
“He’s never even been mentioned in the West Hall comics,” Cold Steel says. “He’s not an acting cape.”
“Max said he was only loosely affiliated, simply because he’s too strong to go unlisted,” Kid Liberty says. “He’s an actor with super powers.”
“I think we’ve started out on the wrong foot,” Crashtastic says. “Here, why don’t I take you all out for breakfast? Then we can discuss… well, everything. What do you say?”
The three look at each other, breaking into grins. “He’s not so bad, after all,” Cold Steel says.
“I like him!” Kid Liberty agrees.
“I should warn you, we tend to eat a lot,” America’s Son says. “How do you boys feel about The Cafe?”
“Oh, yeaaaah,” Kid Liberty says. “Hey, can we invite the girls?”
“Maybe after he has to foot the first bill,” America’s Son says. “Trent, time to change.” Crashtastic looks around for a place for them to change, but when he looks back he finds them already wearing jeans and T-shirts. They’re a bit more muscular than… well, most people, with the boy-next-door good looks of blond hair and bright blue eyes. They’re clearly father and son, or possibly brothers. They probably wouldn’t stand out that much if it weren’t for the Mohawked, grungy looking punk standing right next to them. Of course, he realizes, the punk is as big as his brother is. In fact, as he falls into step alongside them, Crashtastic realizes that he’s actually a bit skinny and frail looking in comparison.
“If he’s going to act as Dad, think we could bulk him up?” Cold Steel asks, looking him up and down as if he’s a twig.
“Well, it worked for you,” America’s Son says, making Kid Liberty start to laugh. “You have to admit you were a bit skinny when we first got you.”
“I was wiry as a norm,” Cold Steel says, a bit defensively, “and it’s not like I ate much while I was laid out for those couple of months.”
“So it’s true?” Crashtastic asks, “you’re a…”
“Mad scientist experiment? Or are you asking whether I’m adopted?” Cold Steel asks, bluntly.
“Um, both?”
“Then yeah.”
“Yeah, you’re a mad scientist experiment, or yeah, you’re adopted?”
“Exactly,” Cold Steel says, almost cheerfully. “I was changed at sixteen, and adopted at seventeen.”
“That’s… pretty amazing. Do the Liberties—”
“Styles,” America’s Son interrupts. “When we’re in civilian clothing, we’re the Styles. You can call me Ken.”
“Trent,” Kid Liberty says.
“Jack,” Cold Steel says.
“Ah, well, then you can call me Ben,” Crashtastic says, a bit stunned that they’re so freely sharing their secret identities. Well, if they ARE sharing them. They could easily be using fake names. “But aren’t you worried I might tell—”
“Everyone in our school and our apartment knows exactly who we are,” Jack says. “But if it gets out to the general public, we’ll know how.” He looks Crashtastic in the eye. “Do you want to be the one that does that?”
“No, of course not,” Crashtastic says.
“That’s very kind of you, Ben,” Ken says. “Now, let’s get going before they run out of the good gravy!”
***
*Central Hall*
“So the prisoners are kept in an area closed to the public, but I believe you should be in Technico’s systems?” the black suit leading Mega and Barbara says, glancing back at her. “You’re Blackbird’s legal guardian, right? I’m sure you’ve been to the school before, even if you haven’t been here. We just need to do a quick scan and retina test—unless you have an identity card on you?”
Mega looks over, surprised. “You’re Blackbird’s legal guardian?” he asks, even more intrigued. “Recently they’ve been showing some of her work in Central Hall—she’s got a lot of promise!”
There’s a strange look on Barbara’s face, he notices, and he looks a little closer, wondering what the problem is. “I—well, yes, yes I am, but I forgot the card back at HTV,” she says.
“Oh, then we’ll just do a quick scan,” the black suit says, pulling a small machine off of the wall.
A phone rings and Barbara holds up a hand, briefly. “I have to take this, I’m sorry,” she says quickly, turning away from them and pulling out her phone. She checks the screen, frowning in thought before texting back. “I’m so sorry, something major has come up,” she says. “Can we do this another time?” she asks Mega.
“Of course,” he says, still wondering why something feels off about this whole thing. Maybe he’s paranoid. That whole episode with Mimic taking his place still lingers in his mind. But Mimic is back in the Cape Cells, he’d checked, more often than he likes to admit, especially after that latest cell break. He would know better if he actually had talked to Barbara more often. Honestly, he usually speaks to Prisma, because he’s an open book, and seeks out interviews on a regular basis. Barbara Gentry is more of a researcher for ongoing stories and developing dramas.
He watches her leave, only stopping as the black suit clears his throat. “She’s quite a beautiful woman, isn’t she?” he says.
“Yes, yes, she is,” Mega says. “Have you heard if she’s involved with anyone?” he asks, knowing exactly how extensive the black suit gossip system is.
“Not that I’ve heard,” the black suit says. “She’s raising her niece.”
“Why is that?” Mega asks.
“Ah, it’s my lunch hour, sir, do you think we could—”
“I would be happy to treat you,” Mega says, catching on quickly. Good information should always be recompensed! He forgets the off feeling he’d been experiencing completely as he and the black suit head for the cafeteria.
Phoebe curses her luck, her mind racing as she tries not to break into a run. She’d been so close. If she had her powers, still, she would have easily gotten in, but now… she almost trips as she realizes something. Now all she needs is to get that card they’d talked about from the real Barbara Gentry. That isn’t an impossible task, she thinks as a smile crosses her face. She just needs to work a little harder.
But first, she thinks as she glances at her watch, she needs to get back to the hotel room. Ben should be heading back, by now.
***
“So how did it go?” Phoebe asks as Ben walks into their little hotel room. “Did he like you? Did he show you anything new?”
“I underestimated how much it would cost,” he says, looking a bit stunned.
“What?” she asks.
“I should have brought more money. I should have saved up for a month, maybe two—”
“Ben, you’re not making any sense, honey. What happened with America’s Son?”
“I offered to take him and his sons ou
t to a late breakfast,” Ben says, still looking like a zombie. “They ate, and ate, and ate some more. And then Ken said they should stop early, because they don’t want to take advantage of me. It cost me three hundred dollars, just for that one meal.”
“You’re kidding,” she says, almost as stunned as he looks.
“Three. Hundred. Dollars,” he repeats. “In Missouri! I thought this place would be cheap! Actually, it WAS. You should have seen how much they packed away, it was no wonder people were staring at us.”
“Oh, honey, do you need help?” she asks.
“I can’t take your money—” he says.
“I was going to offer to cook for you,” she says. “We can save a lot of money by buying in bulk, but I can’t let people realize who I am.” She frowns. “You never know what a crazy fan might do.”
“So… how would we do it?” he asks. “I mean, could you cook here and then I’ll take the food with me?”
“I know I wasn’t going to get involved, but… well, it’s REALLY boring just sitting here, Ben,” she says, throwing a hand in the air. “I can only read screenplays for so long, you know!”
“So… maybe some sort of disguise?” he asks.
She gives him a smile and kisses him quickly. “Have I ever told you how much of a genius you are?” she asks. “I need to practice my makeup!” She runs off before he can say anything, and he smiles slightly, proud of himself.
***
Yes, she needs to find Barbara Gentry, she thinks as she touches up her makeup one more time and looks into the mirror. She’s wearing green contacts this time. She rather likes them, they add to the red wig quite nicely. She straightens her clothes, sucks in her stomach, hating that she’s gained weight recently, and then heads out of the bathroom. Yes, she needs to find Barbara Gentry, but this meal might offer up some unexpected benefits. She can’t let Ben give up this early in the game. If he gives up, she won’t have any excuse to stay here!
