H.E.R.O. - Metamorphosis

by Kevin Rau

I awoke moaning in pain. Two people hovered over me. Their mindviews quickly appeared and showed them putting bandages on the many gunshot wounds. My body ached all over, and I had some kind of mask over my mouth. I sat up, and one of them attempted to push on my left shoulder to force me to stay down. He wasn’t strong enough, and he gave up after a moment. It felt like a child pushing at me.

  I looked down at myself. They pulled up the shirt to cover only my breasts, and bandages covered my abdomen, leg and arm. I pulled off what I assumed was an oxygen mask.

  The paramedic said, “You need to lie down, you’ve been shot quite a few times.” He was an extremely tall man, with medium blue eyes and short wavy, sandy brown hair. He had to be in his thirties.

  It felt like I’d been shot many times. I grimaced and moaned slightly from the pain in my left leg, abdomen, chest, shoulder and right arm. I wondered what he hadn’t hit.

  He said, “I gave you a shot of morphine, it should help with the pain.”

  It certainly didn’t feel like I’d been given any pain killer, my body hurt all over. Between clenched teeth I said, “Either it’s not working, or I’m in a ton of pain.”

  “You might be resistant to it; I've heard that some supers are.”

  “Wonderful, I didn’t know that.”

 

  A tactical officer who wore black body armor and carried a rifle slung over his shoulder knelt next to us. “That was a pretty dumb thing to do, kid.”

  I grimaced again and tears ran down my face. “Gee, thanks. Ow. Did we get him awake?”

  “Yeah, we did. He ran out of bullets on you and couldn’t reload one-handed in time.”

  “Oh, is that what I’m feeling?”

  “Why did you do that if you aren’t an armored super?”

  “I was irritated about the wait.”

  He laughed sarcastically. “Nice, so you jumped into the line of fire?”

  “Flew, uhh, actually.” I coughed, blood came out. I made a mental note not to fly into submachine gun fire in the future. “Uhh, this hurts.”

  “No shit. That’s why we wear protective vests and try to avoid getting shot.”

  “I, ah, thought my body would kick out bullets in a few minutes.”

  “You got shot about ten times. Maybe it takes longer with that many. Any of us would be dead by now.”

  “Good, then maybe I, ow, kept one of you from getting shot.” Damn, this hurts. Next time I’m bringing the boys to do this type of dirty work.

  I felt something wiggling in my right bicep, and a bullet worked its way out. The bandage pushed it painfully against the tender spot, so I tore off the bandage. The wound closed and became just an angry red welt on my arm.

  The officer looked at the paramedic and said, “Damn, man, didn’t you give her a painkiller?”

  The paramedic said, “Of course I did. She’s apparently not being affected by it. I doubt it’s safe to just keep upping the dosage in the hopes it’ll work.”

  I lay back down and over the next ten minutes felt several more bullets push their way out of my body. I quietly grimaced and cried from the pain. The paramedic kept me company, while I laid there and writhed.

  While still painful, the pain receded enough after a while to let me think, and I asked, “Where is the perp?”

  “I believe he’s being held outside for now. I’m not sure though.”

  I looked around. Blood was splattered all over the room from the many gunshots I had kept from hitting the room. One area had quite a bit of blood on the floor; I must have been lying there after being shot. My body was wet and sticky all over. I think I’d make a good prop or extra in a horror flick right about now. Lying here’s not going to get Zena back any sooner, girl, suck it up!

  I clenched my teeth and said, “I have work to do.” I slowly sat up; the movement exacerbated the wounds in my abdomen, and caused me to cry out in pain again. Baracco, the paramedic, per his mindview, put his arm around my back to help me stay in that position. Through his eyes, I looked like a mess. Blood covered my mouth, chin and most of my torso. My legs both had a lot of blood on them, although only the left had been shot. The right had a strange pattern of blood trails that wound around it from left to right.

  I asked, “Why is my right leg so bloody?”

  He replied, “They said you were slowly spinning in the air when they came in. You were unconscious and bleeding. That made the blood run all over you.” He made whirling motions in the air to describe my spinning motion.

  I nodded, “I didn’t fall down after being knocked out?”

  “No, the officers were talking about you floating unconscious.”

  “Interesting.” Damn, my costume is all blood soaked. Great, that’ll flag me as a resounding failure. I need to get it cleaned off.

  “Kind of cool, if you ask me.”

  “Help me up, please.”

  “You should stay lying down.”

  “My body’s already healing; it’ll heal while I’m standing.” I ignored the pain spots in my body and stood up. It caused me to grimace and grab at my abdomen as I did so.

  He helped me, obviously against his better judgment. I took a deep breath; it caused me to cough violently for a moment. That in turn overused my abdominal muscles, flared up a bout of sharp pains and dropped me to my knees.

  I said, “Uh, I’m so not getting in front of guns again.”

  “That sounds like a wise idea.”

  I carefully stood up again. I felt light-headed. I asked, “Where is the nearest bathroom?”

  “I think I saw one down the hall here.” He gestured ahead of us.

  One of the tactical officers came in, and stopped when he saw me walking with the help of the paramedic. He mentally gave me points for being stubborn and being up and walking already.

  I said, “Hi, I’m Psystar.” I looked like a sexy zombie in his eyes, what with all the blood on me, and my shirt up around my bust.

  He shook my hand and asked, “I'm Lewis von Klinger. How are you feeling?” Lewis was a thin, young man with green eyes and wavy brown hair.

  “Like shit. Almost like I got shot a bunch of times.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, I imagine that hurts. You’re a tough chick, though.”

  “Thanks, I think. Help me to the bathroom, please.”

  He debated asking Baracco if they should force me to lie down, and then realized a paramedic would have already attempted that. “Sure thing.” He took my other arm. Between the two of them, walking was much easier. We shortly arrived at the women’s restroom.

  “Let me wash up, and then I’ll be down to interrogate the kidnapper.”

  “Okay.”

  I walked into the restroom and went to the sink area. I felt more than a little drunk. I looked even more of a mess than their mindviews showed me. At least their mindviews were skewed from a male’s viewpoint. Blood soaked my shorts and shirt due to the wonders of spin-bleeding while floating.

  I glanced back toward the door. Per the mindviews, the two guys were content to wait for me outside, so I slid off my shorts and washed them in the sink until most of the blood was gone. I had to wash and squeeze them multiple times to get most of the blood out. I put them under another faucet and left it running hot water on them, and then stripped off the top to wash it. I placed that under another running faucet to rinse as well. Fortunately, my panties weren’t bad.

  I very much didn’t want to look quite so bloody when talking with the F.B.I. agents and tactical leader downstairs. It would vindicate their desire to have held me back. I tore off the bandages and washed off my bloody skin when a new mindview showed someone walk up to the door and enter.

  I had momentary heart failure while I jerked my face out of the sink and looked up. A woman officer stood in the entrance a moment with the two men standing behind her gawking at me. She recovered from her surprise quickly and shut the door in the men’s faces.

&
nbsp; She thought, So this is what a nude super looks like. I looked like a deer caught in headlights in her mindview while she looked my bloody form up and down. Then she glanced at the sinks where water ran on my two costume pieces. The fast motion of standing upright caused me to be even more lightheaded and I noticed that I swayed a little in her eyes.

  She walked over to me and asked, “Are you okay? Do you need any help?”

  I stammered, “I, uh, I’m cleaning the blood off.” Why is it perfectly fine to be naked in a gym locker room, yet feel so embarrassed when caught that way unexpectedly?

  “I can see that. I’m Katherine.” Katherine was about 5'6” tall, with dark brown eyes and long ash blonde hair. She had darkly tanned skin, and spoke very precisely.

  Just then, I felt another bullet work its way out and fall. It rang as it bounced on the bathroom tiles. She bent down and picked up the bullet. “What the? Did this just come out of you?”

  I nodded and quickly regret the movement, “Yeah. They said I got shot about ten times. I’m Ste … Psystar.”

  She glanced up at me. Her thoughts rolled the beginning of my name around in her mind. Stella? Stephanie? “You’re going to have a lot of scars. Arm, arm, shoulder, chest, a bunch in the abdomen, and three in the left thigh?”

  “I guess. I’ve only been shot twice before this.”

  One of the men called out, “You two okay in there?” He mentally hoped we’d ask for a hand.

  Katherine’s voice dripped with sarcasm as she said, “We’re just fine, thank you. And no, we don’t need any assistance.”

  That made me think of the blood, and I returned to washing off with paper towels, soap and water. She stepped over to the sink and changed the water to cold, and proceeded to work the blood out of my top. Then she changed the other sink to run cold water instead of hot.

  The mindviews of the men outside stayed on the memory of me standing there nude. They even began to quietly discuss my body out in the hallway.

  She said, “You should use cold water to wash out blood.”

  “Oh. Thanks.” The pain lessened as the minutes went by.

  “You’re in great shape, do you work out?”

  “I used to. I don’t know if I need to or not now. I’ve been told that we don’t need to.”

  “Are you a new meta?”

  “Yeah.” I looked at my face in the mirror. I put my hand on the counter as another moment of dizziness swept over me. It appeared that my face was clean, but there was no way I’d get the blood out of my hair in here. I sighed as I held a length of my hair out.

  The officer looked at my hair. “That’s not coming clean without a shower.”

  “I know. Ah well, at least I can be mostly clean going down there. I don’t want to be ridiculed for getting shot so much.”

  “Oh, most of the guys will probably think you pretty brave, being as you are now walking around. They might get on your case for getting knocked out during the fight, though.”

  “Damn, you’re right.” Another bullet wiggled its way out and rang as it bounced on the floor.

  I continued, “Well, this will have to do.”

  She handed me the top, and worked at washing the bottoms while I slid the top up my legs. Pulling it down over my head would just re-bloody it on my hair. Good thing the material stretched so much. It was actually amazingly small when not being worn, much like spandex. She squeezed the water out of the bottoms and handed them to me. I slid them on next.

  I felt motion in my abdomen, lifted my top and another bullet came out. Yet another wound that looked much like an angry welt. I picked up the two bullets.

  She asked, “Does that hurt?” She visualized watching a bullet come out.

  “Yes, it does. Oh, you mean when they push their way out. Not too much for that, it’s an odd wiggling sensation. The welts and wounds with bullets still in them hurt though. Shall we go visit the kidnapper? Thanks for helping me, by the way.”

  “Glad to help. Better than one of those guys trying to come in and help.” She stared at my chest for a moment. “Wait a second. You got shot right here.” She pointed near the inner part of my right breast.

  “Yeah.”

  “Your costume doesn’t have a hole in it.”

  “Oh yeah, very cool. She said it was self-repairing.” Dr. Turnquist rocks. I wonder how much she would charge me for just a new top and bottom for my costume.

  “Wow, that’s neat.”

  “Now, if only it self cleaned.” Most of the blood had come out, but some of the costume was more pink than white. The costumes we had custom made by Dr. Turnquist were a special fabric, one that would mend itself so long as it still had the fabric. A sort of DNA, the Doctor had said, which remembered the way it ought to be. It was stronger than normal spandex as well, so our costumes wouldn’t be torn up by minor fights or tears.

  “So, ah, did you change much when you went meta?” She was thinking physically, and wondered about my hair and body shape.

  “Yeah, my hair all fell out and re-grew this metallic gold color. My eyes changed. I added muscle all over, though I wasn't skinny before, just toned. Now it looks like I do more weight lifting, though I can lift hundreds of pounds pretty easily. I don't seem to need support any more. Why do you ask?”

  “I don't know, I've just never had the chance to actually talk to a meta. Stumbling across one, ah, nude was unexpected.”

  “Great, so I'm just a 'meta' to you? Plus, I had undies, boots and facemask on.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, right, that’s fully dressed then, is it? But no, I guess you aren't 'just' a meta to me. Sorry. I suppose if I met a sports star or actress I'd ask questions too. I don’t mean to sound snoopy.”

  I like that comparison. I grinned at her. “You do realize that I still have a 'real life' so to speak? I go to college, have friends, eat, date, etc. We 'metas' live our lives, too.” I looked at myself in the mirror. Wow. I’m a super. Dad told me I’d become one someday, but to look at myself, standing here in a costume….

  Wait, did I just say date? I'm feeling a little delirious, probably from the blood loss. Hmm, are Rael and I dating now? Sheesh, how could I date a normal guy now? I'd know everything he was thinking, and could beat him in arm wrestling to boot. Not a good way to start off a relationship.

  I shook my head, and walked to the door. The mindviews of the two men showed me that they were still discussing my ... attributes. I opened the door, and all audible discussion stopped, but their gazes started at my chest this time. If I weren't feeling a little light-headed I might have gotten on their case about it, instead I decided to have fun with them.

  I hooked each of my arms in one of theirs, and walked toward the stairs. Both of them smiled, and I mentioned, “Guys, has anyone mentioned to you why I'm here?”

  Baracco said, “I was called in because you were shot down, so no idea.”

  Officer Klinger said, “The guys downstairs were mentioning that you butted in here, and weren’t supposed to help until we nabbed the guy. So I’m not sure either.”

  I smiled, “I'm a telepath, a mind reader.”

  My smile grew into a grin and I looked at each of their faces while the thought sank in. When they both wondered if I'd heard what they had been thinking I continued, “Yeah, I heard and saw everything you two were just thinking about me....”

  Both of them flushed bright red, which kept my grin wide. “Don't worry; I'm used to being stared at, just not, ah, nude.”

  They both stammered out apologies. I said, “Oh, stop worrying, I'm not mad at you.” I stopped for a moment and rubbed my face with one hand. I felt almost drunk, very giddy. Either having bled so much, or perhaps my body healing was really affecting me oddly. “Do either of you have anything to eat? I'm feeling kind of lightheaded.”

  Baracco said, “I have some energy bars in the ambulance. Would you like them? You're probably feeli
ng the blood loss, but I don't know what to do in the case of a super.”

  I smiled at him and said, “You're sweet, thank you.”

  We arrived at the elevator and the four of us went down. The guys turned us around once we entered it, but Katherine stopped and simply stared me in the eye while we went down. I smiled at her. She wondered what would cause my eyes to be amethyst, and have a very slight back glow to the sclera. Are my eyes even more backlit now than in the bathroom? No, it must just be darker in here.

  She looked perplexed for a moment, then said, “What ... what is that smell? She stepped closer to me and sniffed.” She hadn't gotten close enough in the bathroom to have my normal scent affect her much. She stepped almost nose to nose and sniffed again. “Oh, wow, that's you! Damn you smell good!”

  Both of the guys gave her a strange look, and then they leaned closer to me and sniffed. I closed my eyes and sensed through their mindviews. Having three people very close while smelling my new pheromone enhanced fragrance was almost as good as having Rael's super olfactory sense do the same. Possibly even more, since all three of them enjoyed it, and I felt three waves of enjoyment coming at me.

  Perhaps being lightheaded added to it, but I let my head roll to the side slightly and sighed, enjoying the sensation.

  Baracco asked, “Do you have perfume on?”

  Katherine answered for me, “She just washed herself completely off, she can't have perfume on.” She had been inches away when I sighed; she smelled the pleasant fragrance from my mouth where it was even stronger. I still wonder how I can have the smell from my mouth, but the pheromones must work from my saliva as well. Hey, Rael and I can test that one.

  The elevator dinged, and the door opened just before Katherine kissed me, saving her from the embarrassment. That would have felt better than the mild pain I still felt from the bunch of welts on my body. That gave me the idea, and I leaned forward and kissed her instead. We stood there a moment, my arms entwined with the two men, and Katherine and I kissing until we heard a cough from outside the elevator.

  Katherine jumped and quickly shifted off to the side. I could feel her embarrassment from her mindview. The new person's mindview focused on me, with my eyes closed and mouth still slightly open. I had been right, the enjoyment Katherine and I both had from the kiss doubled up on me and helped tune out much of the pain.

  The thoughts of the new person immediately wondered if I were a lesbian, and I giggled, then grinned. I opened my eyes. “No, I'm not a lesbian. I hoped the kiss would help offset some of the pain from the bullet wounds.”

  It was an F.B.I. agent. Agent Dostal, per the tag on his chest. Not that I needed a name tag to pull someone's name where I had their mindview so handy. Agent Dostal was a massive, hairy man. He had light blue eyes and light brown hair, and was impeccably dressed.

  He nodded slowly at me in an obvious show of disbelief.

  Officer Lewis von Klinger coughed, and said, “Shall we get you out to the perp?”

  I leaned my head back and looked him in the eye. “I believe so.”

  We walked outside. Baracco went to his vehicle for the energy bars, I hoped.

  The F.B.I. agents had taken over the scene outside now that the tactical situation had been resolved. I squeezed the arm of Officer Klinger, slid my arm out of his and walked over to the group in charge.

  They watched me approach them. Unfortunately, I wasn’t walking the straightest path. I tried to walk a straight line, but my legs didn’t cooperate.

  John, the police tactical leader’s voice practically dripped with venom, “Thanks for not getting any of my people hurt with your rash leap into the scene.”

  I replied, “Was that sarcasm?” He thought it was indeed. “Listen, I’m the only one who got injured, barring the kidnapper. So can you step off a little?”

  “This time I will. Next time you might get others injured or killed.”

  “So noted. Listen, we’ve got a kid being held, can we try to work together here?”

  “You’re going to try to get him to talk? Hoping he’ll tell you where the kid is or something?”

  I squeezed my fist. “No, I’m going to rip the information out of his mind, unless he cooperates nicely. I doubt he will.”

  “You’re a psychic super? I’ve never heard of one who is a melee combatant.”

  “You mean my rush at him up there? No, I’m obviously not a good hand to hand fighter. I’m just tired and grumpy. My partners specialize in combat.”

  “Oh yeah? Who are they?”

  I rubbed my eyes and face. I was tired, lightheaded, and still in pain. “Spartan and Black Tiger. We’re based in Metrocity.”

  The F.B.I. Agent in command, Tim Danst said, “Hmm, I read something about Spartan in the paper yesterday. He put an entire derailed train back on the tracks?”

  “Yeah, I wasn’t with him when he did.”

  “The article mentioned he was a brick, unbelievably strong. He would have been useful upstairs.”

  “Yeah, don’t remind me. I’m the one who got shot, remember?”

  One of the tactical men standing behind me thought ‘Bet Spartan doesn’t have an ass like yours though, lady.’ I looked back at him and smiled. “Thanks. He’s got a great butt for a guy in that spandex suit though, or whatever this stuff is.”

  Everyone turned to look at the poor guy. He looked surprised and embarrassed at being outed.

  I said, “Guys, while I enjoy picking on you for thinking naughty thoughts, I’d really like to interrogate the kidnapper….”

  Agent Danst said, “We’ve got him being looked at over at the ambulance. Shall we, miss?”

  “Psystar. Yep.”

  Baracco stopped me on the way to the second ambulance and handed me the energy bars. I gave him a quick hug and thanked him, then proceeded to open the package and scarf down the bar. Agent Danst found it interesting that I was so hungry.

  Baracco noticed his look and said, “She lost a lot of blood. Some sugar in the system will help, I hope.” Both of them watched me very closely, almost as if I weren’t human, and they were attempting to figure out what the alien liked.

  I had the second energy bar down before we reached the ambulance. The kidnapper lay on a stretcher, handcuffed to the rails on each side. His right hand was wrapped in bandages.

  He looked up at us and spit, then said, “My rights are bein’ violated, pigs. I get med help before having to put up with your shit. I’m in a lot of pain, too. Where are the painkillers?”

  The line reminded me of my interrogation of the mutant in Metrocity Jail yesterday. I ended up having a mental fight in his mind, and threw him into his own emotional fear center. The last we’d seen of him he screamed and screamed in terror until he passed out. Hmm, I could do that to this guy, I suppose. Teach him what pain and fear are all about.

  He stared at me, and wondered how in the world I was back on my feet after being shot so many times. Only twenty minutes before I had been bleeding profusely and unconscious.

  I smiled grimly and said, “You should have shot someone who would stay hurt. Now you’ve just made me mad.” And lightheaded. Wow, now would be a great time to go drinking if I were legal, I’d be all happy and dancing on tables and stuff.

  I stretched my neck by twisting my head from side to side. I walked around behind his head and knelt down.

  He said, “What the hell? Screw this, get away from me! I demand a lawyer!”

  I leaned my head down close to his. His mindview became huge to me as I almost touched my forehead to his. He was afraid of what I was going to do to him, and yet so angry at not being able to capture me. Yes, fear will do. I focused on spreading fear. I wanted him to cower before me. He could learn the hard way not to shoot me.

  The almost familiar tingling sensation spread across my skin as I focused on making him fear me. The tingling continued much longer than normal, and a rush went down my s
pine. Someone nearby screamed and ran away from me. The kidnapper’s mindview had changed my appearance to be backlit. My skin somehow darkened and glowed from behind, giving me an otherworldly look. My golden hair floated in the air, glowing from that aura. My eyes had a strange, frightening look to them. They were backlit golden, with the amethyst iris appearing dark and unnatural.

  Yeah, I like this. I concentrated on pouring this sense outward. I wasn’t in the mood for a mental fight, softening him up seemed like a better idea. Nearby mental voices sounded very afraid, and disappeared as they moved out of my mental range. The kidnapper was paralyzed with fear as he stared up at my frightening visage.

  My lip curled into a wicked smile. I debated asking him where the child was at, but wouldn’t believe him anyway. I pulled myself through his mindview, summoning up my nebulous pack of golden tentacles I’d used in other people’s minds. I looked around at them for a moment. They simply formed out of a golden light around me, rather than out of my body.

  His visual image was lost to the view of my horror-film visage, along with my new pets. I waved my hand and tentacles reached out to grab his mental self and lift him over to me. I smiled wickedly and said, “You’re in my world now, scumbag. No bullets reach me here.”

  I looked around his mental center. It was a large room, the mindview floated in the air behind me, showing his visual of my horrifying visage. I said, “Nice.” I looked around at the doors in the room. Only one appeared locked down, from the strange look to it I guessed that it was his subconscious. The one to the left of that felt a slow current of fear on the air. This interested me. I felt the fear much like I would smell something upwind from me. Not that I was afraid, but it was an odd sense of it – like a smell, perhaps. Ah, your emotional center. Let’s go visit, shall we?

  Held in my tentacles, his mental view of himself looked afraid, but somewhat angry as well. He spat at me and swore to shoot me down for good next time.

  I glared at him and walked to the open door, my tentacles dragging him alongside. Similar to that seen in other people whose minds I’d entered; there were pools of emotions spread around the room. I followed the scent of fear back to a large pool. I asked of him, “Would you really like to feel fear?”

  “No, no!”

  The desire for vengeance made even my mental voice sound venomous. My voice rose as I spoke, and then yelled at him, “Yeah, I think so. You dared to shoot me ten times. You kidnapped an innocent girl. You want to be a big criminal? Let’s give you something to remember the experience by.”

  I directed the tentacles to throw him deep into the pond. The sensation of fear even near the pool was unpleasant while I stood near it. Being immersed had to be really bad. He shrieked in horror as he surfaced in the pool. I left him to swim in the stuff, and listened to him scream and shriek as I walked away.

  A darker side of me felt vindicated teaching him a lesson. Part of me wondered if it was the right thing to do, being cruel even to a criminal. It wasn’t like I needed a trial to determine if he’d actually shot me, though. I was there; he did it, guilty by action.

  Regardless, it was done; I would ponder that thought later. I walked to his largest door, what always seemed to be a person’s memory center. Upon entering, I found I’d chosen correctly. I wondered for a moment why the memory door was always wide open, yet the subconscious door always closed. Perhaps I could get a special Psych study made where we could study that fact.

  Images, sounds and what appeared to be floating videos floated all over the room. The nearest were of the combat upstairs with me. I marveled at being able to rewind and pause the memories with a flick of my wrist. I yawned, I was definitely tired. I suppose I should get this done quickly, it’s been a late night already.

  I glanced around the nearby memories until I found one of him looking out from a van, pointing at the same girl I saw earlier in the father’s memory. I beckoned and that memory floated over to me. His screaming in the background annoyed me. Perhaps using someone’s emotional center to hold them wasn’t such a great idea, it was distracting at the least.

  I watched the memory play through; two men had leapt out of the van and grabbed her. She shoved one with strength far greater than a teen ought to have – the man flew back ten feet and landed on his backside. The other sprayed her in the face with a canister. She slumped quickly, and then they threw her in the back of the van. They jumped back in the van and tied her up with ropes, stuffed a rag in her mouth and tied a rope around her head. I sped the memory ahead as the van traveled through the city.

  Suddenly the entire room shook, and I felt myself yanked out of the memory room and back up through his mindview entrance. It felt like a door slammed on my face and a shockwave blast me backward. I screamed, and then passed out.

  Preview Chapter 3 – It comes as a Shock

  Stephanie’s Viewpoint