“Hey!” Roman shouted as Coma’s body caught fire, the flames licking off her form. He raced over to her and tore his shirt off. The heat practically singed his eyebrows as he began beating the flames off her body.
“What’s happening?” Coma asked as the flames continued to spread.
“Fucking put it out!” Roman shouted to Ava, and for a moment—a very brief moment—the floor beneath her feet rippled.
“Just a test.” Ava lifted her hands and the flames jumped from Coma’s body back to her palm, where they quickly dissipated.
The floor directly beneath her also settled.
Coma was burnt pretty badly, and as Roman cradled her in his arms, he noticed that her flesh was just like his. He wasn’t met with charred plastic—this was actual skin, burnt skin yet with little to no scent. As he held her and as she looked up at him curiously, her body began to reform.
It began with her skin and was followed by the side of her head, where her hair grew back despite the fact that her mask was gone. She was whole again in a matter of moments, partially nude, but whole.
And Roman was seething.
“So you can heal your creations,” Ava said, oblivious to his anger. “Good to know.”
“You lit her on fire!”
“Please relax, and notice your power dial while you’re at it.”
Roman took one look at his dial and saw that the red and green indicators had increased. He started breathing deeply, mentally trying to relax himself, and they eventually went back to their normal levels.
“I’m okay, Roman,” Coma said as she ran her hand through his white hair.
He sat her down on her feet.
“This is part of the process,” Ava told him. “I’m sorry if that threw you off, but the researcher working with me indicated that people with your ability in the past were able to heal their creations—but only if they had given their creations cognizance. Meaning you couldn’t animate a bat, send it off to blindly fight, and keep reanimating it. Although you could animate the shards.”
“I can think of a million better ways to test this out aside from lighting her on fire.”
“I’m fine, Roman.”
“I know you’re okay,” he told Coma, “but that was just very… abrupt.”
“Are you ready for today’s lesson?” Ava asked.
“You mean that wasn’t it?”
Ava stepped aside and Roman could see there was a bowl of rice on the table behind her. There was also a human-sized doll made of leather, something resembling an artist’s mannequin.
The faceless doll was held erect by two metal stands at its feet.
“There are going to be two components to your training today. The first component will be this bowl of rice.”
Ava took the bowl of rice and emptied it onto the ground, the white grains spilling out on the gymnasium floor.
“The task you are going to give the rice is relatively simple. You are going to have them construct a small city that mirrors Centralia. Pick any district you like, or that you’re most familiar with.”
She set a small saucer of water in the middle of the scattered grains.
“Your rice minions can use the water any way they see fit. You see, that’s another thing, I want the city to still be standing when you relinquish control of the rice. So it has to be structurally sound for you to do this, and as you may know, you can use powdered rice as a binding agent.”
Roman considered this for a moment. He would have to give at least a few of the grains intelligence for them to instruct the others to build.
“But there is more to today’s exercise than just a little construction. While this is taking place, you are going to animate the leather dummy.” Ava threw her thumb over her shoulder, directing it at the dummy. “And you are going to have Coma battle the dummy.”
“Fight?” Coma asked.
“That’s right. Since you are part of Roman, you have his normal, non-exemplar fighting instincts and experiences, and from our records, Roman has an extensive background in fighting.”
“Thanks,” Roman grumbled, not loving being called out as a non-exemplar. “And I stopped fighting years ago.”
“We’ve seen this before with strongmen. The fighter may be out of the ring, but some part of the dance is always with them. Let’s get started, and don’t make the dummy too weak. This is supposed to be a challenge.”
Roman sat down on the floor so he didn’t have to focus on standing. Even though it didn’t take much power to stand, he knew it was going to take a lot of energy to have a fight going on one side of the gymnasium while building a rice city on the other.
He also decided not to look at his power dial this time; he wanted to feel when he was getting to his breaking point, rather than being prompted.
Roman first animated the rice, giving more of his power to a few of the grains on the outer rim. He had to close his eyes to do this at first, but once he opened them, the rice had already started to form several lines, a few of them stretching to the saucer of water while the others waited for instructions.
Next up was the dummy. He focused on the dummy and the leather creation came to life, prying its legs free from the metal that held it upright.
The dummy lifted its fists, and Roman purposefully did not give it a lot of intelligence. This was for two reasons: One, he obviously wanted Coma to win. Two, his power dial wasn’t looking so great.
(Of course he’d ended up looking.)
He could feel his heart thumping in his chest and the veins pulsing in his body. He was glad he’d sat down, because until he got better at this, controlling so many things would take a lot of willpower.
As the rice went to work constructing the model city, he focused on Coma.
The petite woman lifted her fists as she approached the leather dummy.
“You can do it,” he whispered, his hands clenching up as the leather dummy took its first swipe.
Coma ducked under the punch and gracefully slipped around the dummy’s body, bringing her fist into the small of its back. She was much faster than Roman thought she would be, evident in the fact that she was now standing on the other side of the dummy, avoiding another swipe, and then knocking the leather creation to the ground with a kick that swept its legs from beneath it.
Fury in her red eyes, she dropped onto the dummy, her knees suppressing the movement of its shoulders. She began brutally punching the dummy in the face, left and right, the sounds of her striking fists ricocheting into the far corners of the gymnasium.
“Destroy,” Roman mouthed, as Coma tore the dummy apart, ripping its limbs from its body, its fluffy white innards floating to the floor.
The fight was over in a matter of moments, and sure, Roman could have animated the stuffing or worked to reform the leather dummy. But his point had been made, his power proven, and Ava saw this.
Had Roman been paying better attention to his teacher, he would have noticed the light flickering of flames at the tips of her fingers, a precautionary gesture, just in case Coma or Roman turned on her.
But he didn’t notice, after all, so focused was he on overseeing the construction of Rice Centralia.
Chapter Thirty-Three: A Terrible Ending to a Good Date
Roman’s next assignment was one that he could figure out tomorrow afternoon. After changing back into his work clothing, he met Coma in the gymnasium, where she sat with her legs crossed on one of the tumbling mats.
The partially nude woman stood, her hands clasped behind her back. He would need to get her new clothing now, considering parts of her clothes were burnt off, including her mask.
He recalled the flame that had encompassed her body, remembering how terrible it felt to watch someone he knew suffer. He understood Ava’s lesson, but that didn’t mean he cared for the way she’d taught it.
“What are your plans for tonight?” Coma asked.
“I will try not to bring someone home tonight. But if I do, I really need you to behave your
self.”
If Coma was ashamed of her performance last night, there was no indication of it on her face. It was odd seeing her without her mask, though, and the fact that her eyes were red only made her look that much stranger: curly black hair, soft porcelain skin, a singed sexy maid’s costume, a pair of ballet slippers.
She remained otherworldly.
He placed a hand on her shoulder and mentally ordered a teleporter. The teleporter arrived in a matter of seconds, this one wearing a pair of sleek, wraparound sunglasses.
The woman lightly touched Roman and Coma; they reappeared in his apartment in a matter of seconds, the female teleporter gone in a flash.
“I have to get dressed,” he told her as he went to his bedroom.
“Can I help you?”
“No, but I appreciate it. You need to get dressed yourself.”
Roman changed into a new collarless shirt and overcoat. He checked himself in the mirror, felt like his face looked a little dirty, and carefully washed it. Once he was in a recently polished pair of shoes, he mentally messaged Nadine.
Where are we meeting?
The message came back a few minutes later. Good, glad this is actually happening. There is an Eastern Province restaurant I want to try on 21st Street, in the Goa District. The name is Blue Lagoon.
I’m ready now, if you are.
I’m ready.
Roman ordered another teleporter. “I’ll be back later,” he told Coma, who leaned against the couch, staring at him in a strange way.
“Do you mind if I go out?” she asked, turning to the window.
“You don’t have any, um, clothing.”
She smirked at him. While he had washed his face, she’d changed into the second set of clothing that’d come with her package. She even wore a black mask, which matched the heels that’d also come with her getup.
“I look good in it, don’t I?”
“I’m not contesting that. It’s just that, well, you are dressed somewhat like a super—at least a super tasked with group duties.”
“Group duties?”
“Some supers are put into teams by our government, and these teams are used to stop vigilantes, as well as go to war.”
She nodded. “Supers war?”
“Yes, and it isn’t pretty. Just ask the Western Province.”
“How can I ask them if I can’t leave?”
The teleporter appeared, a male with long hair that was braided at one side. “Ready?”
“You’re right,” Roman said to Coma, “and we’ll figure all that out soon. Just sit tight for now.”
Nadine stood outside the restaurant wearing a tight green dress that matched her eyes. Her dirty-blond hair was in a bun and she had a shawl over her shoulders, the ends of it braided. On her finger was a silver ring with a single gemstone that Roman hadn’t noticed before.
“Glad you could make it,” she said, as she turned to the entrance.
“This the place, huh?”
“Yep. Blue Lagoon. Hard to find?”
“Not with a teleporter, no. Taking the trolley may have been an issue.”
“There’s a stop on 20th and 35th just a block away.”
“Good to know,” Roman said, as a man at the entrance took his jacket and her shawl. The man told them to take a seat, that their waitress would be with them shortly.
“How was work today?” Roman asked, not quite sure what it was they were supposed to be discussing.
“Work was work. You?”
“Learned something new,” he said, recalling how he’d been able to modify a document’s ink.
“Oh yeah? What did you learn?” Nadine took her seat and the busboy quickly brought two glasses of water.
“I learned something new about, um, document processing.”
“Care to share?”
He smiled. “Nothing important, just something new about how I should arrange the pages. Anyway, you? Any teleporter drama?”
“Not really. We had an unauthorized arrival in southern Centralia, from an Alliance school for teleporters, but it was an honest mistake. Still, we had to issue them paperwork. You know how Centralia can be.”
“I do.”
The menus came, and Nadine placed her hand on Roman’s, preventing him from opening it. “Just trust me on this.”
“Fine by me.”
Roman lifted his hands away from the menu and held them in the air.
“I’m not robbing you,” she said with a flirty smile, “I’m feeding you.”
“Well, I hope.”
“I grew up in eastern Centralia,” she said. “There were tons of ethnic restaurants from the Eastern Province. I’m not an expert on Eastern food, but I’m a fan.”
“You’re in charge. Order whatever you think I’d like.”
Their booth was cozy, dimly lit, and the restaurant was done up to pay homage to the East. Looking Nadine over, Roman noticed that her outfit too paid homage; the dress that nicely framed her figure was the same green as the Eastern Province flag.
The waiter set a wicker basket of blackened bread on the table. He poured oil into a small saucer and ground baked garlic on top of the oil.
“Tell the chef we would like a set meal for two.”
“Spice level?” the waiter asked Nadine.
“Medium with a tang. Also, a bottle of wine. Do you have apple wine from the border?”
“I believe we got a fresh shipment today.”
“We’ll take a bottle of that.”
“Wonderful.”
The waiter bowed his head and was gone.
“So…” Nadine said.
“So…”
They both started laughing.
“You know, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a while, and when it happens, I have nothing to say.”
“So you knew it would happen?” Nadine asked.
“No, but I hoped it would happen, and these hopes led me to assume it would take place.”
“Well, I’m glad I met your expectations. I have to be honest with you: I’ve been trying to figure you out.”
Roman raised an eyebrow at her. “What’s there to figure out?”
“Well, we really hadn’t talked much until we met on the roof.”
“Kevin.”
“Yeah, that guy, poor man, and to think he was saved by the super who was having sex with his wife.”
Roman shrugged. “In the end, he really was a loser—a poor loser.”
“I thought he was your friend.”
“Are you friends with your cubicle mate?”
Nadine thought of Sarah and the fact that she’d taken over all her work this week. “She’s okay. A bit annoying, to be honest.”
“Kevin was the same way. There was nothing bad about him, but he was just kind of sad.”
“Clearly.”
“And how it played out in the end…”
“Insult to injury.”
“Definitely. Thanks,” Roman told the waiter as he poured his glass of apple wine.
Nadine took her first sip and sighed. “Tell me more about you, Roman.”
“More about me?”
“That’s a cool watch you have, by the way,” she said, nodding her chin at his power dial.
“Oh this?” He cleared his throat. “It’s nothing. Not a watch. Just a device a friend of mine gave me. He’s a Type IV, Class E. Sorry, I shouldn’t talk like that in public.”
Nadine laughed. “It sounds better than saying he’s a non-dangerous exemplar who has heightened intelligence.”
“Anyway, it tracks my vitals,” Roman said. “He’s testing it out on me, so if you see it turn on or anything, ignore it.”
“Will do.”
Roman took a sip of the apple wine. “Wow, this stuff is really good! I’ve had apple wine before, but never of this caliber.”
“And it’s cheaper here than the stuff you’d get at a market in the city center. The stuff from the East is great.”
“Clearly.”
“What we learned in school.” Roman swirled his apple wine, watching it spiral around the inside of his wine glass. “I know, that’s a terrible answer, but not many of the exemplars I’ve dealt with from the Eastern Province open up about their lives. I’ve heard of its beauty, and of its poverty. Others have told me it is much nicer than Centralia, or at least the nature is. The cities, not so much. Not like the West and its destroyed cities, but definitely run down.”
Nadine bit her lip for a moment.
She’d been in Centralia long enough to know that stereotypes existed, and many of them had a ring of truth to them. That didn’t diminish the fact that what Roman had said had been offensive to her—no one liked hearing their country was a shithole. But she knew where he was coming from, and she’d been in Centralia long enough to accept it.
“Do you feel bad for the other countries?”
“I don’t feel anything for them, and I don’t mean that in a cold way. I feel the same way about Centralia. It’s where I was born. I have an affinity for it because of this reason. I’m not a patriot,” he said, honestly. “A person can’t help where they’re from, just like how we can’t help that we’re non-exemplars. It’s the way things are.”
Nadine set her wine glass down. “Don’t you feel for your countrymen? If they’re injured, or you see one of them being exploited in some way, does it bother you?”
“This is a pretty heavy conversation for a first meeting, don’t you think?”
Nadine laughed. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come up like that.”
“Not your fault at all. I don’t want you to think I don’t care for my country; I just realized long ago that all countries are flawed, that I’m flawed, and that all I can do is hope to survive and not get squashed by a Type II.” He lifted his wine glass.
“I can toast to that.”
The topic of their conversation changed as food came, and the mood lightened. Roman felt guilty for saying the things he had, but if Nadine cared, she wasn’t showing it.
The Eastern Province’s food was good—lots of meat, sausage, prime rib, bread, potatoes, hardy things. Stuff with substance, and with that famous Eastern Province spice, which had a totally unique aftertaste that lingered on Roman’s tongue, sitting somewhere between his tonsils and the bridge of his mouth. He was completely satiated by the end of their dinner.
House of Dolls Page 14
