Boss had warned me not to get involved with superheroes. Not just because we carried out extrajudicial murder contracts, but they were often just bad news. Always in the limelight. Somewhere between narcissism and overwhelming insecurity. Occasionally too violent to control. Up until this point in my life, I had not had to interact with one aside from rolling my eyes at the occasional billboard. At least, not in the five years since my cybernetic resurrection.
Now there was one striding across my property line towards me. Given that she had just dropped from the sky without shattering her legs into a pulp, I didn’t rate the chances of my shotgun doing much to dissuade her from getting any closer.
“I actually didn’t think I’d have a neighbor out this way.” Despite her constant smile, her eyes went past me to my shack, her confidence slightly wavering at the sight of my abode. “They said it was an abandoned area.”
I stared at her blankly, willing her to disappear. It wasn’t working.
“Say… you’re not a villain, are you?” Her eyes ran me up and down. “Dick move for me to ask that off the bat, I know. I shouldn’t judge based on appearances, huh?”
My head shook slowly.
“Not sure I wholly believe you. Fuckin’ sweet tech, though.” Her brow furrowed, and she ducked into a squat to give my arm a once-over. “That’s not a mundane gun either… V-Force, right? Bet you can shoot all sorts of mad shit out of that. Must be C-Class?”
I’d give her that - she had an astute eye. While my drum was loaded with gunpowder based cartridges, the weapon itself was powered by something called V-Force. Which was some kind of tech magic that I didn’t care to learn about as long as it continued to work in my favor. Allowed a multitude of different payloads, as long as they were the right spec.
She stood back up and sighed. “Normally guys would gush over their little toys, but you’re the strong silent type, it seems.”
There was no need to give her a similar dress down with my eyes. She looked as though she could crack my head like a walnut with any one of her limbs, so I wondered what she thought ‘strong’ truly was. I certainly cut a large silhouette, a good half-foot taller than her and broader with my many layers of wrapped clothing.
Quite likely she was a strength-type super, given her apparel and overt physique. With the red hair and skintight suit, her brash and forward personality lent to the cliche as much as it wore on my patience. She was clearly the powerful and noisy type.
I pointed my left hand up to my scarf-covered neck and shook my head.
“Ah, shit. You’re mute?” Her waning smile turned into a grimace. “Usually when I meet people, I warn them I’m a bit of an asshole. I guess now you know firsthand - before I even had the chance to tell you.” She smiled again, but some of the glamor was missing.
I remained statuesque and stared blankly at her.
“Oh. Rockslide, although you can call me Roxy. If… you could.”
It was interesting watching the soul leave her body as she continued to dig a bigger hole unassisted. She waited in awkward silence as if I were about to give her a name.
“No vocalizer chip, despite your tech level? Do you sign? Or have pen and paper handy? It’s difficult to read you beneath the goggles and gasmask.”
I shook my head again. While it brought me no pleasure to see her squirm, I felt that if I didn’t give her anything, then she might talk me to death. An unfitting end, especially when Boss had a new contract for me to complete. Against better judgement, my left hand came up, and I drew a W in the air.
“Starts with W? What’s after that?” She tilted her head.
In addition to the bright red bodysuit matching her hair, I noted her eyes were an odd amber color. At least, as far as I could imagine behind the green tint of my own eyewear. Perhaps she had fire abilities too? To her question, I gave another shrug.
“Just W, huh? Well, Dubs, I have no more room in my mouth for my own feet, so I’ll head on over to the house.” She turned and took a step before looking back. “Now that we’re friends, I hope you don’t mind some tough love? Only, you kinda reek a bit, my guy.”
She didn’t care to hang about and see which of the three body motions I had so far offered her would be the one I responded with. I watched her leave towards her idyllic house and wondered two things. The first was why supers wore skin tight clothing all the time. It seemed inefficient and geared towards titillating rather than being combat-functional. Probably a public relations thing - I was thankful I didn’t need to impress anyone. Just doing an efficient job for Boss to work off my debt was enough.
The second thought on my mind was wondering what I could possibly do to get rid of her. This close to the Wastelands wasn’t exactly a prime vacation location, much less a pleasant place to live. There was a good reason I was out here roughing it. Solitude.
Not five minutes had passed, and I’d already had the longest conversation for years. It had been exhausting. Perhaps that sleep could be had now. I turned and trudged my way back into my own place of safety. Door closed, and I felt a lot better about things with me being hidden away. The empty canister still lay on the workbench, so after ejecting my drum once more, I went over and removed that. Into the disposal pile in the corner of the room.
I considered whether giving her my name was a mistake. Wasn’t much you could do with a single letter, and perhaps now she’d avoid me out of awkwardness. Part of me hated that she had been right - I probably could gush about my gun, if given the right audience and the capacity to do more than grunt. It was one of the reasons I was so good at my job, after all. Couldn’t put a price on that sort of satisfaction. My eyes went over to the piles of wooden boxes against the wall.
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One of the crates at the bottom was stacked with speciality mags. All sorts of oddities that Boss allowed me - either for testing, for a specific mission, or my own amusement. One of my favorites was the Sanguine ammo. Small rods of reinforced steel with pointed ends like stakes. Just a solid chunk of sharp metal the V-Force could put through walls. Only had four of those left. Two fewer neo-vampires in the city, though.
I sat on the chair and basked in the clarity of my empty workbench. Brow furrowed against my goggles, I brought up my the screen on my wrist. New contract dossier was being downloaded. An off-grid system that was slower than turtle balls, but was as secure as it got.
Now that I knew it was on the way, I couldn’t sleep. I had gotten four hours the night before, so I should be able to go a while longer. I’d have to let Boss know about my neighbor and I might get relocated. Having the overly forthright woman breathing down my neck would make my work difficult. Only took a few probing questions or seeing me turning up covered in blood before things got complicated.
Any further reasons to doubt me not being a villain and she might just crack me in half just in case. There was no telling how much control her emotions had over her power. A super with lightning powers had lost it in a coffee shop a few months back. Something wrong with his order. Two dozen casualties. The League seemed to have enough rugs to sweep things under, however, as I didn't see the story grace the local news.
No points for guessing if both organizations were in bed together.
I stretched out the fingers on my hand and deflated. The city had fucked me over by selling that plot of land, but even if it went cheap, I wasn’t sure why a superhero of all people would relocate to the outskirts. If there was one thing a super liked, it was fame and adoration. Plenty of kiss-asses in the city willing to inflate their egos and tell them their shit didn’t stink. Any further than my backyard, and it was just sun-bleached rock and the occasional band of mutants.
The spaces between cities were a deserted no-man's-land. Other than the guarded highways or transport routes, it was a lawless place, mostly untouched by the various governments or organizations that ran the bubbles of civilization. I'd heard the wastelands used to be full of towns and smaller communities, but that seemed like a far cry from reality. Goldarch was one of the more metropolitan cities, and I'd been posted here since I left wherever Boss had put me back together. There was a Mayor, and a Council, but it didn't take a sceptical mind to see that they were just in the pocket of the League of Heroes.
My STAR beeped and took my thoughts away from the problem next door. Fully downloaded and ready for my perusal. I blinked my tired eyes a few times before allowing the mission details to filter onto the screen.
Some kind of middling mob boss. Took out a huge loan, then when time came to pay, he gathered up all his goons and killed off those he had borrowed from. Now the guy higher up in the chain wants an eye for an eye, and the only payment required is blood. Boss had marked it with the word ‘EAT’ which meant Erase All Targets. No need to incapacitate henchmen or avoid innocents. All were guilty.
According to the ones paying Boss, anyway.
A dozen or so targets, including the prime catch himself. Small firearms expected. Based in the backrooms of some casino, of all places. Close range, so I'd expect melee as well. Enough ambient noise to drown out the roll of my dice, but they also have a couple squads that roved around the front of house and main street, so I’d need to keep things short and sweet.
I looked over at the drum mag. Thirty shells was usually enough, but this had the capacity to turn into a bloodbath. Enough to budget for two shots per target with a couple spare, assuming I didn’t get any of the additional groups. No, that wouldn’t do. With the hiss of a sigh, I stood and went over to find one of my ten-cartridge magazines. I'd lead with that and switch to the drum once I had breached the building proper.
Best that I get some sleep. Would be a crime to go fight the mob at a casino during daytime.
With little ceremony, I took my allegedly malodorous body over to the mattress and laid down. Pressed the STAR to let Boss know the contract was received and accepted. Hopefully, by dusk, the hero would be busy and I’d not be bothered further. Still some repairs to do on the car before I set off. Gun maintenance would wait till after the contract - it would forgive me.
Darkness took hold of my whirring brain as the lights in my home flickered off. A dreamless sleep filtered through my muddied memory, that I soon awoke from.
A longer sleep than usual, but I clearly needed it. Perhaps it had been all that socializing that wore me out. Waning sunlight from the barely transparent coverings over the windows signaled that I had time to replace my hydration cannister and scowl at the vehicle before setting off. I roused from the mattress and did just that. Spent can in the pile, fresh one giving me a chill as it was inserted. Magazine on my belt filled with incendiary shot. Drum hanging from a quick-release clip beside it.
I rolled out my shoulders and tapped at my stim dispenser on the right side of my neck. Good to go. The tubes of my re-breather hissed as I exhaled. Went and left from the front door, shutting it and enabling the traps with the click of the switch. A humming started within. Not much to protect, but if I came back and my cannisters and ammo had been sacked, both the Boss and I would be fuming.
Boots crunching over the light dust and gravel, I approached my transportation and popped the hood. Everything in there looked pretty fucked, and I wasn’t much of a mechanic. I settled for prodding about aimlessly, making sure that everything was at least secure and in place. Perhaps I should ask Boss for something that needed less work, or I could just learn to…
I tilted my head to see a figure approaching from the side. The hero, looking a little sheepish. Apart from now wearing an oversized black hoody, she appeared no different. As if a camera crew could be waiting around the corner and she’d need to spout off some cheesy lines while giving the biggest faux smile possible. Picture perfect. To whatever standard the League of Heroes required of her, anyway.
“Heyyyy, Dubs. Ah, I just wanted to apologize for earlier, mostly.” She waited a few seconds to see if I’d do anything other than stare at her, before giving up that fading hope. “I’m a bit full-on and that’s clearly a clash with your personality.”
I didn’t budge.
“Sooo. I hope we can at least be cordial if not friends.” She grinned and looked between me and the open guts of my car. “I honestly thought this was just an abandoned wreck in your front yard, but it’s good to see you’re great with your hands.”
My eyes went down to the large shotgun that was currently prodding at the large metal part of the car's internal organs that got too warm when I drove it. One of at least three such parts, anyway.
Roxy blinked slowly. “Hand... Fuck! Anyway, just remember the first part where I didn’t sound like too much of a cock. I’m working tonight, but I’ll try not to shake the ground too much when I get back.” She clicked her fingers and winked, before spinning 180 degrees and stomping off.
She was a bizarre individual. I’d never known someone so aggressively awkward. That said, aside from Boss, the only people I knew were shortly dead after I met them. Maybe the League stuck her out here to pasture where she could gnaw on her own feet in peace. If she put half as much gusto in fighting criminals as she did trying to get on my good side, then… well, the city wouldn’t need people like me. More ear plugs, maybe.
Hoping that my car was now magically repaired through the power of not wanting to be near the super any more than I did, I closed the hood and looked up at the sky. An hour or so until dusk would start to shade the city and all the fanciful lights of the gambling district would come into bloom. It was about an hour’s drive as well. Planned. I tried to be punctual on all occasions.
I decided I would at least escape to the edge of the outskirts - so that I was far enough away from home to not be bothered - and then wait out nightfall in relative peace.
Something I’d soon shatter.