by Power, P. S.
"That's right. Also the words get too small if I'm too far away. More than fifty or sixty feet and all I get are squiggly lines." Then she held out her right hand, to the man first.
His thoughts were decently calm, and came across in a combination of blue and red. They indicated that he was interested enough in her, in a light way. A very polite one, but there was attraction there, too. Interested, now that he knew she wasn't going to be bigoted against them.
Any of them, including Wallace. That the man was worried for the other guy was interesting. There wasn't any overt reason for him to be, as far as she could tell.
"Cindy Mableton. Resource Librarian extraordinaire, at your service. It looks like you've met the Incredible Wally? You know his brother?" She'd never spoken to him about that, but the name came up in three places at that moment. Over the heads of each or the other people standing there.
Clark. Clarkson. She nearly blurted out that it was a hideous thing to name someone, when she also saw that the man was most likely dead. She might not care what others thought or felt, but not stepping in a pile of slime like that was a good way to avoid having everyone know about it. From the words the man was finished however, for good. Gone and not coming back, at any rate. Proxy knew that, thanks to some time travel he'd done. At least it was what he'd been told. By Impulse. A hundred years in the future.
That was news to her, however. From what she'd learned from her research, the man could just do a basic sort of teleportation. Going to crime scenes, and taking the place of victims. As she thought about it the info scrolled above his head, filling her in very firmly with a lot of things she never would have suspected about him. That meant she was kind of staring, reading it all.
He could time travel at will, for instance, and teleport, including with other people now. His ex had taught him how to do it. She, for her part, was from a different world, and seemed like a bit of a bitch. The woman was also Prime's mother. As in the superhero that everyone knew about. More, Proxy here was his dad. The tiny girl was his grandchild. Which given that he didn't look a day over twenty-five was interesting. Again, it was all thanks to the time travel.
That might end up being useful to know. It certainly hadn't made the nightly news.
Impulse was a little slower with her information, but it was all there as soon as Cin let her attention shift. As she read things came into clarity above her. In bright red. The feeling was one of energy, tinged with orange. Excitement, and probably a bit of dread. That part had to do with how she felt about this Clark person. She'd sort of loved him once, but in the end had given him over to Braid, rather than let herself be blackmailed by the woman.
The girl nodded at her, and made a face that was half sad, and half forced.
"I... We think he might have been killed. In the Braid thing? Did you catch that one? Not everyone got it."
Oddly enough, since it had been all the national news had played for nearly three months, she had caught that bit. A madwoman trying to take over the world, using her precognition. In the end she'd lost, but from what had been said that had been really close.
Wally, for his part nodded.
"Thank goodness. If there was ever someone that deserved to die it was that... Pedo." There was no particular sound of remorse to his words.
None, in fact. Just anger at what his own brother had done.
Wally, her friend that she hadn't even realized was Infected, even reading about his life for years, went cold then. The words flowed above him in a rush, not fading until she read them. Instead of scrolling it was like pages being turned with him. That was always the case with him. She could tell a lot about it though.
Clark, his slightly older brother, if six years was going to be taken that way, had been a waste of space as far as Wallace was concerned. Nervous and a bit geeky, which was kind of a family trait, but also powerful enough that he'd ended up in the IPB. Where, instead of just trying to help people with problems, like he should have, he'd taken to sleeping with a little girl.
One named Bridget, though he didn't know anything else about that part of things. His information had come from his parents, his mother in particular, who'd told him what his brother had been getting up to. Past that point Wally hadn't spoken to Clark again. It was a thing he actually felt shame over, and wanted to hide from the world. Being related to a monster like that.
Cindy nearly had to smile then.
Not because there was anything good about the man having sex with kids, or at least one girl that was too young, but because that didn't make a person a monster really. A bad man, but not one that destroyed for their own pleasure. She knew that one, first hand. There were levels to things, and this Clark asshole was just wrong, and had probably let his hormones get in the way of clear thinking. That didn't make him in her league at all. Not that she wouldn't have gladly killed the man for it, and taunted him with his wrong doing, if she could get away with it.
Smiling to cover what she was would be right out, given the serious nature of the topic, so she affected a concerned face. A thing that she'd practiced in front of a mirror more than a little bit. Along with other things. Smiling so that the expression reached the eyes, concern, and sadness. If you could get those down, you really could cover almost any situation. This one was kind of strange, since people coming to tell someone that a relative was likely dead, or at least missing in action, wasn't something she'd seen before.
She looked at Wallace, trying to seem supportive. For that matter, she really was being that, she realized. Even being a bit different, she could like people, and out of the ones she knew, Wally was the best. Like her pet, or minion. So if he was having a problem she was too.
Proxy, who probably had a real name, not that she could remember it off the top of her head, looked at her thin friend, and sighed.
"You aren't the only one to have that reaction. It wasn't a good thing. Bridget... Well..." The words he wasn't saying flooded the space above him. It was complicated. There were in fact, even diagrams, as if he were trying to show the relationship of people through time.
Cin had seen some illustrations before, once or twice, but this man produced six of them in a row, causing her to stare again. There were even mathematical equations in the mix. Like a science textbook.
Impulse was easier to understand, being that she was Bridget.
She'd been too young, but had wanted sex and had low impulse control when she wanted to do something that seemed interesting to her. So she'd basically raped the man. Not that he hadn't been into it. The girl could tell that one. Still, the adult had been punished for it, which had left her with a raft of guilt that she carried around over the whole thing.
Which was about to make her angry at Wallace, because he wasn't feeling properly sad about his brother's demise.
It wasn't showing on her face yet, but her posture did stiffen. That wasn't a great sign. Not when you were standing next to a person that you couldn't kill, thanks to her powers. One who could punch holes in the side of cars, and tanks, without too much effort.
It wasn't her job to stop that kind of thing, except, of course, that they were in her library, and even a screaming match would be a problem. What the hell she was supposed to do at the moment was beyond her however. She was about to just walk away, to get out of range, when a sign flashed over Proxy's head. It told her that he was about to leave. To save a boy. There was even an arrow pointing which way he needed to run, though no explanation of what the meant. There was a countdown too.
She blinked. Then pointed the direction of the green arrow that floated in the air.
"Um, that way? Toward the front doors?" There was a man coming in then. One of the street people that liked to frequent the place, she thought. He had red hair, and a beard, but there was something off about his clothing. It was too clean, for one thing. She yelled at him anyway. "Move! Proxy needs to go that way. Uh, hold the door?"
Almost as if baffled the Chinese man looked at her, his brown eyes shining a bit, as the m
an at the door moved to the side instantly, and pulled the shining glass thing with him. It looked almost planned it was so well done. Then the killer, the one that probably would have been in her nightmares if she had that kind of thing, turned and ran. Just like she'd said he should. As the countdown vanished so did he.
It was like magic, and several other people saw it and looked amazed.
The little girl, who was shorter than Cin by half a head, turned to look at her.
"Neat. I hope it isn't anything too big. Brian is tough, but... You know, he doesn't have a physical power. He just has to go and fight, like a regular person."
Cindy nodded at that, since it was what the news reports and data online had said, more or less. Then the time travel and real teleportation part had been left off, as well as who his son was. A lot of people had wondered what his real powers were, for a long time. Years now.
It was down to the fact that he'd taken on beings that were so much more powerful than him, and won, that he should have died a thousand times over. That he hadn't... Well, that probably had to do with the data that she'd just seen. Inside of him the man had instructions about what he needed to do.
"He's going to save a boy. That was all the words said. There was an arrow and numbers counting down." She petered off, since two people were coming over about then.
The street person that had been at the door, and Glenda, the manager. Head of Library Services for the branch actually, but she set the schedules and ran things. With a slightly shrewish iron fist. Compared to everyone else standing there, the woman was fat.
At least a hundred pounds overweight. Her hair was the kind that should have looked lank, being the right color of dirty blonde to actually seem greasy all the time. That didn't happen however. Chubby or not, Glenda did take care of herself in other ways. She was dressed nicely, and had on enough makeup to cover any hairy moles that might have been visible otherwise.
When she walked up her face was sharp, her large nose flaring at the nostrils.
"Why were you yelling?" The tone was half stressed, and part whisper, since that was the way people shouted there. The look was for Cindy, which was correct given that she'd been the one making the noise.
Before she could say anything about it, the bum did, smiling at them.
"Brian had to leave. Verily, it was his call to battle. So this lady sought to prevent collision, by calling out, so that I might save the door that all must use, yon." He gestured, as if they might miss that he was talking about the glass door at the front.
Cin gestured at him, and spoke in a low voice that wouldn't carry too far, but not whispering. It was still hushed, but lacked the venom a whisper might hold.
"That. Sorry, but people going off like that. Vanishing..." She could tell from what the words over Glenda said that she was going to try and take her upset out on them, by pushing people around. That was the kind of thing the woman did, about three times a week.
Normally Cindy ignored her when she did that, since it was just her boss being petty and annoying. This time however, the heavy lady was confused enough that she was nearly in the right. There had been loud noises, which was against the rules, and there was no good way to explain things.
Luckily Proxy appeared then, facing the outer doors, in the place he'd gone away from. Exactly. He turned, waved a bit, and smiled at them. It was a grim thing however, and not pleased in the slightest. There was a splash of blood in a line on his dark shirt. Under that there was a smudge.
What that meant, Cin didn't know, other than that it was enough red that someone wasn't going to be happy with it. Proxy wasn't hurt though. Not past some bruises from striking the men that had planned to sacrifice some kid. The ones that were now dead. They would be soon anyway. Bleeding to death, and choking on their own fluids.
It was totally hot. She actually felt a bit of a tingle between her legs at the thought.
Again, there was a picture for her. It showed the scene, including men dressed up in masks. Ones that looked like skulls, and had giant antlers coming out the tops. That, and gray robes. People that were really pulling out the stops in their effort to be crazy.
He spoke in a soft, almost harsh, voice.
"I'm not injured." This went to the homeless looking man. Clearly a person that was part of the IPB group there. "Sorry about that. A boy had to be saved. Some kind of cult thing?"
She nodded, getting it first, having had a picture like that. It let her in on things that the others didn't know yet.
"Maybe we could go into the back?" Then she turned to Glenda and shrugged. "Wallace... His brother died. They came to tell him about that. They're from the IPB."
Those words, while honest, instructed her a lot about her boss. The woman straightened a bit, but the words she produced, in yellow which was strange, spoke of fear. Loathing and recognition, now that she stopped for a moment. Not of Proxy, who Glenda was totally not getting at all, even with all that had happened, but of Impulse. She'd been all over the news after all. Killing tens of thousands. By herself.
The plump manager swallowed. It was a dry looking thing, that held open worry in it, if not as much as she felt inside.
"I... Don't know..." It was weak, and her face held an expression that wasn't worth bothering with. A type of uncertainty, probably. The sort of thing that weak people did, instead of running away, or fighting.
She nodded, and patted the woman on the arm. It was reassuring, and the message that could be seen seemed to say it was working too.
"This shouldn't take long. I'm probably not needed for it. I can cover for Wally here?"
There was a pause, and then, finally, a nod from the woman.
"Ahhh... Yes? I don't..." Then she shook herself and rallied. "Wally! Your brother... I'm so sorry." She moved forward and hugged the man over the front counter. He let it happen, since death in the family or not, he didn't get to hold women a lot.
That meant he noticed when the ample chest hit his. So did Impulse. Bridget, Cindy realized.
As if it made any sense, which it didn't, Glenda waved at her.
"I'll cover up here. Can you stay with them? Maybe in one of the study lounges? No one will be using them this time of day."
Rather than glare at the woman for forcing her to stay with the potentially uncomfortable situation, she started to walk away.
"Follow me then. Quickly, quickly, we're walking, walking..." She was trying to be playful, and it worked, though Glenda looked at her like she was being an idiot.
Not for the first time Cin kind of wondered if she was going to kill the woman some day. She hated her enough that it felt right, on a certain level. Like a poor plan, too.
If she did that, then it would be too easy to track things back to her. That she chose her marks at near random had kept her safer than she might have been. They were all of a type, being tall, and having dark hair. A lot of people would miss that however, being that they were men. They also tended to be muscular, in a lean, nearly thin, fashion. That would throw the cops off a lot, because people didn't punch upward. They didn't attack people that were stronger than they were. Going and killing people in her life could lead to her, eventually.
That might not mean anyone could find her, because she was perfectly camouflaged as a small woman, but testing that wasn't a thing she wanted to try.
So she kept moving, not really plotting the death of her boss.
Not unless the feeling came over her to actually do it. If that happened, well, then it would be taking place. She couldn't fight the feeling. The one that ordered her to remove people from the world. Men, so far. Ones that looked a lot like her father.
That part was hard for her to understand, however. She didn't like her dad. Not really. That was the plain truth. They'd argued a lot when she was younger, but that was about all. He'd never hit her, or raped her as a child or anything like that. There hadn't even been too many time outs or groundings. Still, the men she went after all kind of fit the right profile. When
she killed, the idea that she was killing him, over and over, was always there. In the back of her mind.
The thing was, he was still alive, and while they didn't talk she didn't feel the need to run off and take him out. He lived up in Seattle with her mother now, so it wasn't like that couldn't be done. The idea left her cold, and not at all intrigued.
It was, no doubt, due to the infection. That crazy mixed up thing that gave people mental illnesses as well as powers. The one went with the other, hand in hand. If you had an ability, you had the crazy, too. Like the powers though, that could be really different from person to person.
The others followed along with her, moving halfway into the building, and going to the first door on the right. It was a space for the public, but there was no reason why they couldn't camp out there. Except for the fact that some day she and Wally might actually be needed to get back to work.
That idea nearly got her to laugh.
Like they were actually needed anymore. Eventually the city was going to realize that the library wasn't truly useful any longer and shut the thing down. Probably cutting the funding first. Then she'd be out on the street, looking for a job. Not that she needed much, really. Flipping burgers would be enough for her, as long as she could keep things together.
Honestly, there had to be a way to use her power to make money, too. Playing poker or something where knowing the right information would help. Sales could work for that, though she'd never tried it.
Inside the room, which had desks for studying at along two of the walls, and some reference books that had been old about fifty years before, for the most part. There were some well worn chairs as well, which the red haired man in the patched coat pulled around so that everyone could sit. They were short a chair, but the man just waved them into them, and moved back, near the wall, not leaning.
Balanced and focused. He was running some kind of mental exercise for fighting. That was a constant in his life, she knew. It was all right there. Floating above him clearly.
As she looked at him, she noticed that he provided pictures and diagrams, too.
