I had heard that no matter where you go, you could not escape your shadow. Wherever there was light, it would be there, attached to you.

Indeed, as I stood amongst the grass of the front garden, my bare feet enjoying the texture of the verdant blades, I stared down at my own shadow. The morning sun behind me created this version of me that darkened the greens of the grass and cast a gloom among the flowers who really looked like they could do with a watering.

My past was certainly dark. I couldn’t deny that. An unknown mercenary of sorts who potentially hunted downs supers. A near-death and then cybernetic rebirth, the amnesia leading me to five years of killing criminals as a hitman under the mysterious ‘Boss’.

It was a wonder I was allowed any kind of light in my life. Seemed unfair, almost. For all my sins and this dark shadow following me, I had clawed my way out to something worthwhile. Often, the undeserving got ahead in life.

I should just ride out the wave until karma came and found me.

My cybernetic arm rose up, and the long-barreled shotgun that existed in place of my right forearm scratched at the side of my head just above the permanently affixed gasmask. The plain gray t-shirt and black compression shorts were a more casual look than I was used to.

But I was recovering.

Turned my head to see the front door open. Out stepped my assailant - the one who had ruptured most of my organs and turned my ribs into splinters. A good six feet tall and stacked full of natural muscle, the superhero Rockslide would have been tough enough to handle even if it weren’t for her strength powers.

Now that she had also gotten the taste of the potential volcano powers that had been lying dormant within her, the normally amber tone to her eyes had become a shifting inferno that was almost as bright as the short red hair atop her head. Foregoing her signature orange and silver sleeveless super suit, she was instead in dark gym wear.

“Morning, Dubs.” She smiled as she stepped over to me. “You doing okay? Thinking about the shadow-people dream again?”

I shifted my head from side to side in response, as she put her arm around my waist. It was less of a dream and more of a psychotic break. Could have been something that my tired mind just made up, but seeing the nine figures representing my old squad had been chilling. The old life slowly slithering back into my conscious thoughts whether I wanted it to or not.

[No, I was considering doing some gardening while I recover.]

“Liar.” The super gave me a brief squeeze. “I don’t know whether it was because of how fucked things have been, or just because you were there beside me, but I slept really well last night.”

[Honestly? So did I, despite it being such an unusual occurrence.]

“Well, it’s a long-term thing.” Roxy pulled me closer to kiss the side of my face. “If you want, of course. I’m not sure what your expectations of dating life really are.”

[As long as I get to spend time with you, I am content.]

She sighed and put her hands on her hips. “Such a silver tongue, you could get work as a...” her sentence trailed off as we both turned to look at the house.

Door opened again and our odd third wheel stepped out. Roxy’s near-adopted sister and my future sidekick, the technician was as much an ambitious prodigy with cybernetics and related fields as she was overtly inappropriate toward me. A petite and slight frame, dark skin, and dusty-gray hair down to her neck. Green light emanated from her cybernetic eyes as she yawned. The light blue nightie and rabbit slippers were unlike anything I’d ever seen her in - which was usually slate gray overalls or dungarees to suit her job.

“Everything okay, hun?” Roxy tilted her head. “You’re not even dressed yet.”

Clara took a step into the garden, before sitting down on the edge of the wooden porch. “Tired. Long couple of days.”

The super gave me a glum look before going over to the techie. Stood to reason she would be exhausted still. She had been the one who put me back together again. The solo surgery to remove my broken ribs and replace with a metallic version had to have been completely draining. Adding in the excitement over being accepted to the institute of the most prolific cybernetics expert had also been a lot for her to take in.

“You little sausage.” Roxy put her hand on her head. “Why are you dressed up like this, though? Reminds me of the slumber parties we used to have at the League school.”

“I thought it would get me extra sympathy points.” Clara looked up at the super and pouted.

“Dork. You’re allowed to have an off day, you know. You’ve earned it.” She turned her head back to me. “I’m putting you both in charge of each other once this one has gotten dressed properly. I need to spend some time in the gym this morning. Anything freaky or dangerous and I’ll… be mad.”

Not exactly the threat I had been expecting, but given that her rising anger could potentially cause her to set on fire and drip lava, I wasn’t about to rock that boat. As the techie groaned and stood, Roxy blew me a kiss.

Without knowing the conventual means of responding via puckered lips, I just gave her a thumbs up with my left hand in return. She furrowed her brow as she led Clara inside, but her confused smile was good enough for me.

I turned my attention back to the… flowers. Perhaps I would do the gardening this morning. There was bound to be a watering can somewhere around here. Rather than go look, I sighed and looked out toward the surrounding wastelands, turning a half circle as part of the view was blocked off by the new workshop buildings, and then to the far left was the city of Goldarch in the distance.

Chamber on my gun-arm open and closed, and I pumped the grip back and forth with my mind. Synapse control was nice enough, but I wondered why the choice had been to give me a pump-action shotgun rather than something semi or auto. Then again, most of my cybernetic work didn’t make much sense, and I wasn’t on speaking terms with Boss to pick his brain about it.

Hadn’t even put my goggles back on or checked my STAR system for a couple of days. Part of me didn’t want to let this slice of bliss evaporate with the real issues plaguing my existence bubbling back to the surface.

I had a budding relationship with Roxy. Something as weird as it was normal. Clara was probably my best friend, something as weird as it was weird. It was easy to look past the baseless flirting to her true intentions of improving every facet of my life, especially when working toward becoming a superhero.

Ah, yes. The paperwork was still sitting in the lounge awaiting my final signatures. There was something… daunting about making that final step. To decide that I would step out into the public eye and dance to the League of Heroes tune for a while as a vigilante styled anti-hero. I had no doubts about my ability, of course.

It was just difficult to put aside the fact that I had been a murderer for hire over the last five years.

Still, if the people around me could look past that, maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on myself.

Turned my head back to the house as the door opened and Clara came back out, now in gray dungarees and white undershirt.

[Care to sit down for a bit?]

I gestured over to the two deckchairs.

“We need to get a swinging chair for the lawn, Gunquake.” She had a glum expression on her face, but nodded at the suggestion.

[Roxy tell you about my… vision?]

Clara nodded and sat on one of the chairs, immediately sinking back to lie against the angled top end. “Briefly. You saw figures you might have known and felt like either you had betrayed them or they were betraying you?”

[Could also be that we were all betrayed. It wasn’t clear; it was just the base feeling of it.]

“Hmm. Irksome, Gunquake. May I ask a favor?”

[Of course, Clara.]

The techie tilted her head toward me. “Could you sit on the other side so that I could hold your gun-arm?”

I nodded and did as such, picking the deckchair up to move onto her left side. With little ceremony, I sat and held out my shotgun, which she wrapped her arms around.

“My apologies. I feel very withdrawn and unlike myself.” Her green eyes looked back to me, but were half closed. “It reminds me of how I felt… the time my parents were killed.”

[Then this is the least I could do.]

She sighed, and her eyes fully closed. Slowly relaxed into the chair like she was going to nap, but her fingers occasionally tensed on the shapes of my gun. It must remind her of the superhero, Can-Can, who saved her that day. Not shocking that she liked to fall asleep against me on movie nights, either.

While she was keen to not be seen as a little sister to me due to the amount of innuendo usually between us, it was hard not to settle into that protective role over her. Despite her intelligence and technical aptitude being the perfect foil to the more headstrong super, she also wasn’t afraid to burn the candle at both ends and take risks. Winning at any cost was my shtick, so we were pressed from the same mold in that regard. Trusted her almost unconditionally.

One of her eyes opened slightly. “Are you busy thinking that I am like your little sister again?”

[Did you install something in me to monitor my thoughts?]

“No, Gunquake. Wouldn’t even if I could.” Her eye closed again, and she smiled. “I think it would best to think of me as… a parasite. I subsist on your growth and strength. Living vicariously through your exploits using my occasionally legal advancements.”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

[Parasite has a kind of… gross connotation to it, though.]

“We both know I don’t shy away from gross, Gunquake. Perhaps symbiote would be more fitting, given our current predicament.” Clara’s smile softened. “I don’t have the heart for our usual banter, but if you could be my comforter for a little longer, I would be grateful.”

[I have no other plans that are any more important than this.]

“Good answer.” She sighed and relaxed even further.

Somewhat bizarre to me that I had painted myself an adept and proficient killer - to the point of it being my near sole defining trait… yet I also found it simple to make people happy. I’d been rough around the edges on Roxy’s arrival to my solitude out here on the city outskirts, but she had fallen for me. Clara wished to live like a little worm inside my brain. The speedster hero, Captain Snaps, had now come around to being a decent friend and member of Roxy’s super group.

Would it be so easy to win over the other two members?

One seemed to care more about her businesses and wrangling her inept husband.

The other wanted to run her odd ‘Church’ which several people had described to me as being a sex cult.

Although I was starting to realize I was good at tasks that didn’t only involve arriving with a fully loaded shotgun and a disregard for my own safety, I wasn’t entirely sure where to start with either of them. Probably just turn up and do my best.

[Would you be keen to shadow me when I go to see one of the supers tomorrow?]

“Tempting.” She opened her eyes. “Roxy probably wouldn’t like me going with you to see Belle and her… Church.”

[So that’s the one you want to do then?]

Clara gave me a wry grin. “Naturally.”

[Unfortunately I will not lie or keep it a secret from Roxy, however. You’ll need to convince her.]

“I knew domestication would make you boring, Gunquake. I’ve already done some preliminary investigations, and tomorrow the Church has an event on. A couple’s event.”

[Hmm. It would not be a good idea for Roxy to be seen attending… anything like that. Perhaps Wren would be a better choice for now.]

“She is booked out for meetings for the next week.”

[We can’t just turn up and request some time?]

“Oh, Gunquake. You make it sound so horrible that we can’t go to a sex cult’s schmoozing event as a faux couple to dig up dirt on the shady organization pretending to be something religious. All in the hopes our support super will see the error of her ways and make more effort to be a better team player.”

[There are so many things that can go wrong with that scenario.]

“We’ll talk to Rockslide later. I understand that wanting to involve her in decision making is more because we are acting as a team now. Not because of what you may or may not get up to behind closed doors.”

I rolled my eyes and looked out over at the workshop. She was right, of course. That was exactly why I wanted the super involved in the decision-making process. I seemed to get into trouble when left to my own devices, and I was soon to have not only the League watching my every step, but the reputation of our super group on my shoulders - so I wanted everything to be aboveboard.

Well, most things.

The League had already been watching me for a while. Given that Clara had not found the purported anti-tech aura that Boss had assured me I had… either the mysterious figure himself had been scrubbing my records, or the League had the full picture of what exactly I’d been up to the last five years. I wasn’t sure which answer was more uncomfortable.

[You don’t have to be directly present, either. As my sidekick, I assume you’ll mostly be in the van, or a remote location, rather than directly in danger.]

“Wouldn’t do to have me injured, would it, Gunquake? How would you repair a shattered ribcage?” She tapped my arm and released her grip on it. “Even the van might be too close for comfort in some instances.”

I brought my arm back over to my side and looked out to the city. Seemed so calm from this distance, despite the true size of it. Hard to believe there were dangerous criminals and villains plotting away that needed my boot down their throat.

[You intend to build up some manner of command center here?]

“I intend many things.” Clara swung around and sat up on the edge of her chair, head tilted back to me. “But there are only so many credits or hours we can grasp at with our eager paws, Gunquake. Our current focus is on assembling the team and getting your superhero license.”

[Sometimes you are too sensible, Clara. Got anything danger-adjacent to lighten the mood?]

“You flirt with malady. Come to the workshop and I’ll show you something you won’t soon forget.” With a coy smile, she stood up and gestured toward the single story off-white building.

There we go. Now she sounded much more like herself. I followed her through into the larger side of the workshop, the first time since they had moved everything into it yesterday.

Far left side was stacked with cases and boxes, an impromptu storage area making what use of the space we currently had. My old workbench was there, along with the chair and other useful attachments they’d procured from my prior home. Some amount of space had been left on the direct left - possibly for more machinery.

Clara ran her hand along the surface of the work surface before turning and sitting atop it. “I have always respected the care shown for where you do your work. Shows you are meticulous and know how to treat the things that make your life easier.” She tilted her head to the side.

[A malfunctioning tool gets me killed.]

“That’s why I’ve ordered a better maintenance kit. While the current one services your weapon just fine, I believe there are further efficiencies we can make, Gunquake.”

[Would be nice to make me semi-auto.]

“I’m too tired to make a joke about that.” She gestured with her hand to the stored cases. “Grab me case K-3 if you please. I would get it myself, but it would involve me bending over in front of you, and that would just be inappropriate.”

I sighed and did as she asked. Made a show of bending over myself to retrieve the case, which elicited a rare grin from the techie. She could do with the levity after what she’d been through. She slipped herself down from the workbench so that I could place the black case onto the surface.

“These aren’t anything special, but you might get a kick out of them.”

Her fingers popped the clasps, and she lifted the lid. Inside, packed in cut-out grooves of soft foam were an array of metal shapes. Each was somewhat cylindrical and the rough size required to fit into my gun chamber.

[You know I’m supposed to be doing less war crimes now?]

“Boring.” She rolled her eyes. “Officially you’ll be using Nerve shot most of the time, but I see no reason why your hobby can’t be slightly-illegal experimentation. With me.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. There was a streak of violence within her that skirted past the usual norms when it came to what was reasonable and acceptable. Possibly part of her dissociation in seeing her parents killed, or her affinity for the more mechanical side of things.

Tilted my head and thumbed through the provided metallic objects.

One was spiraled like a drill head. Another a hollow tube, the front end sharpened. Third was textured like a mallet. I picked up the next one to look at the odd cuts on the sides.

[Are these whistle holes?]

“Correct, Gunquake. I don’t believe any of these would be effective ammunition, but it was an iterative exercise to get my mind comprehending what could work. Your V-Force weapon can fire figuratively anything, so it seems artistically irresponsible to use normal shotgun shells most of the time.”

[Again, I’m not supposed to be killing anymore.]

Clara wrinkled up her nose. “We both know how likely that is, Gunquake. If the League has you up against any mutant threat from the wastes, you have free rein.”

[Even heroes get to kill the denizens of the wastes?]

She nodded. “They are considered enemies of the city. Any signs of aggression are dealt with zero tolerance - but that doesn’t mean you can just go cull them. There are peaceful groups, of course, and they know well enough to stay clear of the major cities.”

Despite living on the border between Goldarch and the wastelands proper, I hadn’t really picked up on much mutant lore. Other than a handful of one-sided run-ins, we’d kept out of each other’s ways. In saying that, my first sidekick trial was to stop a cultist group bringing an abomination to the city.

I wondered how common that was. If I could spend my superhero days murdering my way through enemies of the state, that wouldn’t be so bad. As much as I needed to dance to the League’s tune, they would also want to use me to my strengths.

“This one was my favorite.” The techie picked the last metal rod from the box. Holding it in one hand, she pressed at the bottom with the other. At the top of the intended shot, the metal split and spread out in an intricate pattern - eventually resembling the design of a rose-like flower.

[Violence aside, that is an impressive amount of engineering work.]

“Thank you. Oh, do you think you could get Van Michaels to help with my moving when the time comes?” She allowed the flower to sink back into the inert form and placed it back in the case.

[I’m sure he could be convinced. You’re certain you’ll be moving in, then?]

Clara nodded and closed the full case up. “I’m certain there will be teething issues. The long-term plan would be for me to have my own place here as well, but Rockslide is a softie and will let me roost in the spare room as long as I require.”

[How are you intending to manage your time between League duties, your education, and being inside my every thought?]

“That is, in part, why I am moving here, Gunquake.” She lifted the case to me to return to the storage. “Otherwise I would not get to see you most of the time, which is unacceptable.”

[Flattering, but that doesn’t answer my question.]

I moved back over to the wall of crates, only briefly wondering what other horrors could be hiding away here. Wouldn’t be long before we required a proper warehouse, but having her creativity on the doorstep would be worth it in the long run.

“My tutelage counts as part of my League work, so it won’t be entirely two full-times jobs. It will be tiring and I will have to commute a lot, but this is what needs to be done. Or is the mighty Gunquake the only one who is allowed to burn the candle from both ends?”

With a sigh that rattled through my re-breather filters, I crossed my arms in response to her indignant tone.

[Fine. But I expect you to be honest in regards to your mental and physical health during this process and take time off when required. Otherwise I will force you to.]

“Gunquake.” She smiled. “You’ll make me blush. That is an acceptable deal - after all, a sick symbiote would poison your mind and make you weak. Then I'd be a parasite.”

Not quite how I was thinking, but the gist of it was the same. With both of us crumbling, that would be even worse. If I was going to not only be a tech superhero, but also live up to the lofty heights I aspired to, then I would need her backing. Healthy and competent. Out of the group that I’d tried to bend to my will, she had been the least effort.

Just needed some manner of comfort from my mechanic side, and the approval and encouragement of the rest of me to be her best and she had slid into the necessary position I needed her in with ease. Oh, now she was even affecting my thoughts. Perhaps she was inside my brain.

[Have you eaten yet?]

“I could absolutely destroy a slice of plain toast, Gunquake.” She nodded towards the house. “Public Defender order is arriving later, mostly just a replacement of all the things destroyed by Rockslide.”

[Mostly?]

We stepped back out into the morning sunshine and made our way to the house.

“I felt the pistol wasn’t really fitting, or effective. Even against soft targets, there would be little need to use such a small caliber firearm. If your shotgun was ever damaged or ineffective, then you’d need a better tool for getting out of the situation.”

[Like maybe a second shotgun?]

“An amusing thought, but no.” She raised an eyebrow as we went through the front door and turning into the kitchen. “I was considering a custom grappling gun.”

I grunted. We had considered something like that before, but given that I was short on hands, it didn’t seem like an effective way of getting around. If only I could just leap about like Roxy, or even fly. I’d have to do some research on other tech heroes and what they got away with.

[Custom how?]

“Oh.” She placed a slice of bread in the toaster. “Instead of being for hooking onto ledges of buildings and the like, I would change the head of of it to pierce or grab onto people.”

[I… see.]

“Biomechanically, using a hand-held method would be inefficient… so it’s still on the drawing board for now.”

[Probably a back-mounted automated winch with the cable fed down through my gauntlet to the custom head propulsion unit would work reasonably well.]

Clara stared at me blankly, silence filling the room for a good handful of seconds before her toast popped up.

“Perhaps, Gunquake. I am not keen on making you too bulky, but I admire the enthusiasm.” She plucked her food out onto a plate. “This leads tangentially to the thing I mentioned I was going to show you.”

I sat down on one of the stools, an eyebrow raised.

[Oh? The case of metal death wasn’t the main focus?]

“No.” The techie came and sat on the adjacent stool. “I was trying to buy time, as I wasn’t sure how to bring this up to you.”

With a nod, I started getting a sinking feeling about what this was leading to. As she stared at me patiently, I gestured for her to continue.

“When considering replacements for your pistol, I had a look through what we had in storage, and came across the sealed bag of items from the Agent who tried to kill you.”

[The man pretending to be a World Government employee.]

She nodded and took a bite of toast, hesitating slightly. “Yes. There’s something… odd about his pistol, Gunquake.”

[Odd how?]

The techie swallowed and sat silent for a few seconds, the green light of her eyes trying to read my face.

“Well, you’d best come see. You might understand it more than I do.”