I had long lived a life of silence. While I told myself that was something for efficiency when doing my work—and a way in which to further distance myself from normal society—it turned out that I just had a warped sense of what was appropriate to say in situations of stress.
Even with that in mind, I didn’t regret my comment.
Captain “Roy” Snaps hadn’t expected it, that was for sure. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife - and while I was unarmed, I was pretty sure the speedster could retrieve one from the kitchen before I had the chance to think up a parting sentence for this world.
Instead of immediate retaliation, a wild amusement had illuminated his eyes. A wide grin and subconscious nod, as if I had passed a test.
“Can talk shit just as good as you take it,” he said in a hushed tone. “You might just survive out there.”
I assumed ‘out there’ meant in the world of supers and villains, rather than the general outdoors - otherwise, I already had been, and currently very much desired to be ‘out there’.
“…but how well can you take a punch?” He continued, the spike of adrenaline almost tangibly visible on his face.
Threat Level 63.
“Could you quiet down, please,” Wren interjected. “I’m trying to close a deal on 34th King Street.”
Snaps furrowed his brow, blinking away the red rage that was about to have him punch holes in my torso. “34th Kings?”
“Yeah. Going to demolish it and rebuild. Contract dispute means we don’t even have to pay the ousted residents that much.”
He licked his lips, attention waning as he turned away to face the elf. “My parents live on that street.”
No Threat.
The elf shrugged and gestured with her head. “Perhaps you’d best sit your ass down, then. Maybe this pleasant dinner party will satiate my hunger instead.”
Captain worked his jaw, giving me one last glance like a scolded puppy, before turning and heading back to the table. No doubt in my mind that he now held a grudge toward me, for edging his need for violence. Peas in a pod. Belle had been quietly praying to herself, but I doubted it was for my safety. Before I had the chance to sit, my lense picked up something approaching on the road sensor.
“That’ll be Clara, Dubs.”
It would probably be bad form to sprint from the room, so instead, I turned to the table and gave them a brief bow.
[You are all delightful, I am thankful to have had this opportunity to meet you all.]
“Sarcasm is a sin,” the pink-haired woman hissed, her eyes still closed as she clutched at her book. The elf just nodded, tapping at her phone, while the Captain gave me a shit-eating grin - still looking over me as if I was what was for dinner.
I walked out of the house, the sound of hushed swearing still coming from the kitchen. What could she be making to have caused this much issue? No matter, for the stagnant outside air of the wastes was refreshing and I felt free. I turned my head to the road, as the second set of sensors pinged up. The speedster hadn’t registered on them, which was something to remember for later.
A boxy gray van rumbled across the gravel to come to a stop just outside the perimeter of Roxy’s garden. Engine switched off, and the door opened. A petite woman dropped out the side, drab gray dress with black tights, but with a blue League of Heroes jacket on. As she closed the door to her vehicle, I could see that her outfit had a couple of belts filled with tools and gadgets. Dark skin and a muted, almost silver hue to her short hair.
“Hey Clara, that’s Dubs - be nice!”
I turned my head to see that the super had tried sticking her face out of the partially cracked kitchen window to deliver her message. When I looked back, I was caught off guard to see that the small woman was now standing a few feet away from me already.
“Huh,” she began, with a soft neutral tone. “She warned me that you’d be a lot smellier.”
Ignoring that part of her statement, I was taken aback by her eyes. Synthetic or prosthetic eyes weren’t that uncommon and were usually indistinguishable from natural eyes… but there had been zero steps taken to hide or obscure the reality of hers.
Deep gray metal orbs sat in place in her sockets, rings of bright green light looked me up and down in the place of any iris or pupil. A plain, expressionless look on the rest of her face.
[Sorry to disappoint.]
“No need. It was inevitable.” She turned and gestured to the deckchairs.
Not quite a doctor’s checkup, but the closest to it in the life I now led. Contract killers didn’t often brush up against normal society enough to have decent healthcare… or maybe that was just me? I was starting to suspect I’d been careless with the brush I painted all killers with, and now looked rather foolish in front of everyone as I was covered in excess paint.
I sat on the side of the deckchair, unsure what to expect.
“Is it just your neck and arm, Mr Dubs?”
[Correct.]
She nodded and withdrew a slim tool from her belt. “Do you consent to me observing your neck cybernetics first?”
[Be my guest.]
I pulled away the scarf that obscured most of it, revealing it to the open air more than I had in a long time. I wasn’t ashamed of it… the details of my cybernetics were just private. Excluding the overt gun-arm, of course.
She didn’t say another word, but stepped up closer to me. I noted that the glove on her right hand had some tech in it, as well as a multi-tool that currently extended a small magnifying lense.
“Hmm. Quite extensive.” She stepped around the deckchair to look at the back of my neck. “Surprising, but this is actually custom work. Decent grade, but hard to draw a comparative.” I felt a finger prod around the affixed vocalizer. “I’m glad the vocalizer fit. Usually it would be built in to such a replacement already… that said, this amount of work usually isn’t worth the risk doing.”
[Oh? High chance of death or complications?]
“That, plus the quality of life…” She leaned from side to side. “Standard C-Class canister and stim ports. Those types of stims are not legal. Higher chance of psychosis and violent tendencies.”
[Can’t say I’ve had those side effects.]
Clara moved back around to the front and crossed her arms. “Given the custom nature of the work, there isn’t a lot I could do with the base tech there. Cybernetics going from your collarbone, full neck, and up through your mask to…?”
[I believe I have my bio upper jaw and nose. Nothing below that.]
She nodded. “You’d have to find the creator or person who installed it. The ports could be upgraded, but you’d be paying above market rate due to the risk and specialities the technician would require to complete the job.”
[Do you have those speciality skills?]
“If you have the credits, sure. Just because we are both friends with Rockslide, it doesn’t mean I will devalue my worth. I hope you can appreciate that, Mr Dubs.”
I wasn’t sure I’d lump Roxy in as a friend yet. Circumstances had pushed us towards that, but it didn’t feel natural or earned. Maybe part of that was just my lack of desire to have any sort of social connections… but I had managed not to get my head removed in the process of meeting people… so far.
[We’ll talk invoicing once you’ve given me a full once over. And just ‘Dubs’ is fine.]
“You’re wearing a HUD lense, but it’s only D-Class so I hope you didn’t pay much for it.” She shook her head and sighed. “Apologies, I am being rude. Someone in your position has little choice in what they can get.”
Before I had a chance to grasp at a response that made any sort of sense without giving my lifestyle or employment choices away, Clara had taken a knee and grasped at my gun-arm.
With little regard for where my head was at, she brought the end of the barrel up to her eye to peer down it.
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[Hey, that is inadvisable. It could be loaded.]
“No. There is no magazine and you seem too experienced to leave a round in the chamber.” She tilted her head to the side to stare past the gun at me. “It is synapse controlled and you have no intention of hurting me, even if it was loaded. You wouldn’t have survived this long doing what you do without fine control over it.”
[How can you tell any of those things?]
“Rockslide trusts you, Mr Dubs, which is reason enough.” She stood and dusted off some mud off her tights. “You take exceptional care of your weapon, which is something I appreciate. However, there is no hiding the amount of wear on some of the parts. Regular use over several years… so I have reason to disbelieve you are just a wasteland guide intending to be Rockslide’s sidekick.”
[I see.]
Perhaps meeting Clara was a mistake. She seemed to be able to see through my pitiful attempts to hide what I was - and talked more than the group of supers.
She tilted her head, but her expression didn’t change. “Rockslide told me what you are and do. In exchange for my silence, I would like for you to become my pet project.”
[Explain to me what that entails.]
“The League blue balls me on getting some actual inventive work done. Despite my aptitude, they say there is too much red tape for me to start working on living subjects. While you still live, I would like to learn from you. In exchange, you will receive updates and maintenance on your parts.”
[At… market rate?]
“Do not be dense, Mr Dubs.” She gestured for me to raise my arm, which I did. “Anything off the shelf would have to be paid for in kind, however, the work I do for you personally… anything bespoke would only incur parts and materials cost at most.”
I watched as she then grasped around at my shotgun, as if part of her glove was measuring out all the dimensions. Perhaps it was. Or it was doing some manner of scanning. I was being offered exactly what I wanted, give or take a few credits… yet I still felt on edge about all this.
“Overcharge V-Force drive in a C-Class shotgun arm. Acceptable, however - this is odd.” Her finger tapped at my elbow.
[It is? How so?]
She ran a finger from it, up the rest of my arm, to my shoulder. Fewer layers of fabric around there, but she could tell all of that was part of my cybernetics too.
“Normally, the elbow would have some manner of release. So that the forearm could be replaced. Either with a different weapon, or with a proper cybernetic hand. Yours is just one piece… which is only really seen on short-life war robots.”
[Are you saying that’s where my arm might have come from?]
“No. Unless the rest of you is secretly robotic, Mr Dubs… in which case remind me to leave you my number.” She exhaled through her nose. “Otherwise, unlikely. Compatibility reasons, for one. The serial numbers are not present, so it’s hard to say where it was procured or how they managed to get it on you. Most likely some ingenuity by the figure who did your custom neck work.”
I nodded, but didn’t have much to add. I’d bled enough to know that I wasn’t just a robot on the inside. Having her number might be useful for emergencies anyway, though - if she intended to be my doctor.
“Could you power up the drive for me?”
The hum of it vibrated through my arm as I powered up Overcharge before allowing it to simmer back down.
“Hmm. Recently acquired.”
[Correct.]
“Excellent.” She withdrew a notepad from her jacket pocket and came to sit beside me on the deckchair. “We will start small, Mr Dubs. This kind of thing both requires trust… and you living for an extended amount of time.”
[Somehow I luck my way through both of those things. May I ask you a question, Clara?]
“Of course.”
I looked back over at the house. There were several questions spinning around my head like a hurricane. Answers that I could loosely pair to them, but nothing that fit exactly to reveal a bigger picture. Where did I even begin?
[You’ve seen who I am… know what I do… why is it Roxy approaches me as if I were just… Vince from Accounts Receivable?]
Clara tapped her pen on the page as her cybernetic eyes followed my gaze to the house. “Rockslide is very... you will find that it doesn’t matter what you say to her, she will only judge you by your actions. I believe in part that is why we are her two friends, Mr Dubs. We are straightforward.”
[That… doesn’t change my profession. The acts that I do commit aren’t very commendable.]
She sighed and shrugged. “I trust that she is a good judge of character. Whether you trust her, or even me, is your own burden to bear.”
I grunted and looked at the lush green grass. Compared to the rest of the wasteland surrounding us, it was overt and garish, much like the super herself. Still, it would be seen as something totally normal in any other place. In this way, it was like my trust.
Part of me knew she was a decent person, even if rough around the edges. Did her best, even if it did all fall apart. I… didn’t believe she held any ill will toward me. But the whole situation had me on edge. Her moving in here. The need to join her party and seep into her normal life. Plucking from my safe life of solitude.
Trouble was, on some level, I didn’t hate it. Not entirely.
[Will you be going in there to join them?]
“Not if I can help it.” Clara shook her head. “Can’t stand the assholes. Did you have to talk to them?”
[Wren is the most palatable, mostly because she ignored me. Belle wanted to convert me to something. The living ego tried to goad me into a fight.]
“It is likely you will have to go against him eventually. His temper is… well, he is called Captain Snaps.”
[Here I was thinking it was a speed reference.]
Clara finished writing something on her notepad. “Speedsters are measured on a scale of how many times faster they are than a normal human. A disparaging term for a low-powered speedster is ‘courier’ due to the work they are likely to acquire when unable to reach the necessary level of a League super.”
[Noted, thank you. More ammunition for my eventual downfall.]
No doubt I’d blurt it out at the wrong time and pay for my loose tongue with a few high-speed punches. If Clara thought it was inevitable, then I’d have to come up with some manner of response beforehand.
“Speaking of… you wouldn’t happen to know about a case of missing V-Darts?”
I gave her a shrug, knowing nothing with that name.
“A few months back. Short, solid metal, with a tech core?”
[You mean… Sanguine stakes? I was not aware they had a core.]
“Interesting name. I prefer that.” Her brow furrowed as she returned my blank stare. “Ignoring for a moment the fact that they were stolen from a League lab, I will describe their function and purpose. Imagine an anti-tank caliber rifle bullet that could cut through any plate, tech, and some super powers like an ice pick, but had none of the explosive aftershock. Or… perhaps you don’t need to imagine, since you’ve used one?”
[We’ll say we are well acquainted. Are you able to get me more?]
In a rare show of expression, Clara screwed up her face and looked away. “They’re not exactly an over-the-counter prescription, Mr Dubs. Let us start with something simple to get our working relationship off the ground.” She tore the sheet of her notebook out and handed it over.
[Sideloader pack, Maintenance node, Ongoing care? Twenty-five grand.]
“Any questions about anything on the invoice, or discrepancy over price?”
I raised an eyebrow and looked down at the petite woman. Her impassive eyes bore into me. She seemed shrewd, but competent. Compared to hoping Boss drip-fed me scraps… well, desperate was a long word, but this whole party attendance hinged on me getting new parts and upgrades. This was my ticket.
[Give me the details and I will pay. What is the Sideloader?]
Clara gave me a nod. “Essentially a mod that will attach to the chamber side of your shotgun and allows you to side-load a different ammunition type apart from whatever magazine you are using. Best I can get you at present only has three shell capacity… but when I’m sure the League won’t be looking over my shoulder, we’ll talk upgrades.”
Very handy. Would mean putting Tazers in the side when using normal ammo, or allow me to mix in some of my more exotic cartridge types for edge case scenarios.
“We can do a lot of amazing things together, Mr Dubs - I apologize for being overexcited at the prospect.” Her expression hadn’t changed at all. “That your bike back there? May I?”
I nodded and stood to follow her over into my yard, and to the side of my shack where I had at least put the vehicle out of the line of sight of Roxy’s house… even if the supers would have seen it on the way in.
Clara ran her gloved fingers along the side of the bike, before crouching down beside the guts of it. “Imported RTJ-Mark 3. Mostly stock, although…” She grunted and shook her head. “Posers, honestly. I assume you don’t want this to be so noisy?”
[The quieter the better.]
Her hand went in between the bars and exhausts, and with a hiss, a long tube snapped out of place. She dropped it to the ground and narrowed her eyes again. “Aftermarket parts to make it sound like retro-tech motorbikes, mostly for clout or intimidation. Waste of technology.” Clara stood back up and gave the central panel a quick once over.
[Anything we can do to make it slightly easier to ride?]
She held up her open palm. Unsure whether she was signaling that I needed to pay her or… I slowly put the barrel of my arm in her hand. Small lights on her glove dotted into life as she measured the business end of my money-maker.
“I’ll get a printed part that will make it easier to rest the end of your arm on the handlebar with more friction. Otherwise, any significant modifications aren’t worth the time spent. In our lines of work, vehicles often bear the brunt of an attack sooner or later.”
[Understood. What do I owe you for that?]
She tilted her head from side to side. “On the house. Transportation is important, and the city has been slacking in making it available to those in need. The west-end Tram line was canceled due to gang activity, but guess who… no, I should say no more.”
Seemed to me like she was about to implicate the city itself in either encouraging gang activity, or at least showing incompetence in ending it. Both things I could easily believe.
“You have a STAR System, right? Here’s the digital invoice for everything.” She held out a small card of reflective silver. In return, I pulled back my sleeve to expose my device. A little contactless action, and the funds were transferred.
[Can you do anything with my STAR?]
“No. Not my field, unfortunately. It would be like getting a chiropractor to do your dental work.”
“Clara? Dubs?”
Any further deliberation was put on hold, as Roxy called us. We stepped back around my house and the super was standing in her front garden holding a plate of something. Looking less stressed, but plenty worn out despite the party still being in its infant stages.
“Got your fave, Clara. Toast sandwiches.” She gestured the plate forward, which the tech took, sitting back down on the side of the deckchair. “Dubs, I got you… some further embarrassment?”
[Joy. Please go on.]
“Roy thinks you’d be a real good sidekick.” She grinned, but her eyebrows were raised in bemusement.
[The Captain thinks I would make a good bloody smear across the road. He really said that?]
She nodded. “Used some inventive phrasing to say it, sure - but he implied that you’d put yourself in danger to protect me.”
[Hmm. You were correct about the further embarrassment.]
Her face was nothing but smiles now. “I’ll leave you two out here, unless you’re desperate to listen to us assholes talk shop. Feel free to grab whatever from the kitchen though, I trust you…”
Sentence trailed off as her eyes went up and she put two fingers up to her ear. Any joy and relief over the party drained away from her face, and I raised an eyebrow at Clara.
“League,” she said as monotone as she could, before taking a bite of her toast sandwich.
“Fuck!” Roxy hissed. “Why now? Fuck fuck fuck. Dubs, I’m-”
The rest of her words cut off as the Captain zipped out of the house and slid across the grass, soon followed by the other two supers at a more reasonable pace.
“Well, well, big balls,” he said, a twinkle in his eye to accompany the wide grin. “Looks like you’ll get your sidekick trial today. Lucky us, huh?”