Sweat ran from my brow. An odd amount of unease ran through me as my knuckles whitened. As much as I prided myself on being able to take heat and pressure, this fresh new hell I’d put myself in hadn’t been easy on me. Still, I’d persist and survive. It was what I was good at.
Turned the stove off and took a deep breath. Now I knew why Roxy had awoken me in such a state when she was preparing for the housewarming party. Being unable to taste the food was quite a predicament, although one of my apprehensive guinea pigs couldn’t taste either. They were waiting patiently in the lounge as I requested them to - and hadn’t even come to peek, even after I knocked some glass to the floor.
After five years as a killer for hire, I never really saw my lack of a right arm as a disability. It was certainly an inconvenience, but having the tool of my trade bolted to me at all times had some advantages. Now thoroughly dipped in a more normal existence, I was starting to come across activities where a long metal barrel and V-Force drive didn’t really cut it.
Still, my mission was complete.
Balanced both plates across my left hand and forearm. Allowed myself one last sigh before heading out of the warm kitchen. Across the lobby and into the lounge.
Two pairs of eyes were on me immediately, expectant glamor behind them. We were all wearing tank tops and shorts - a coincidence; I was assured, but an odd look for techie who was usually more wrapped up. Hers were matching dark grays; the super had a black top and light gray shorts, and mine were both white. Not really an important part of our day, but I was trying to eke out as many microseconds before giving them the food as possible.
“Smells great, Dubs.” Roxy smiled, eager to be the first to receive my fare. And she would, partly because she was closest, and partly so that I didn’t drop the plates trying to hand them over.
[Pancakes. For you Roxy, I have drizzled chocolate sauce on them and included two scoops of mint choc chip ice-cream.]
She took the plate, her eyebrows raised. “I am impressed.”
[And for you Clara, I have made your pancakes slightly thicker, and there is a caramel wafer between them.]
The techie nodded and took the plate, a little more apprehensive than the super.
[Now I will stand here awkwardly and await your judgement. Be as harsh as necessary so that I may improve in the future.]
“Fuckin’ amazing.”
I raised my eyebrow at Roxy, who had somehow managed to get through half of her breakfast already - using the fork to scoop the pancakes whole rather than cut them up.
[It meets your expectations?]
“So, pancakes are pretty simple - and I’m not saying that to bust your balls - but you got everything right with how they taste. What really does it though is the warm chocolate and ice-cream.” She shook her head, still chewing through the food. “Divine, Dubs. Five stars.”
Although I felt that I could put a damp newspaper on a plate next to her favorite ice-cream and she’d lap it up, I decided to take the compliment. I turned my eyes to Clara, who had been cutting a small triangle from her meal. Fork pierced the desired piece, and she lifted it up.
“I’m sure you are aware that I am near impossible to please, Gunquake.” Her eyes went from the morsel to me. “At least in a culinary sense. So please do take any lack of compliment as a slight on your efforts.”
[Naturally. I appreciate you giving it a chance.]
She put it in her mouth and chewed, while Roxy and I waited with bated breath.
“Texture is… smoother than bread. Soft and springy. The wafer is more brittle than toast, but makes for a surprisingly apt substitution.” She started to cut a second triangle. “Sister, could you taste a piece and give your verdict on that side of things?”
Roxy didn’t need asking twice, and her fork had already darted across to the techie’s plate as soon as the segment of pancake had been separated from the whole. Straight into her mouth.
“Hmm. Definitely leans more on the cake side of pancake, but it’s cooked well. Caramel wafer compliments the… is that vanilla flavoring you put in the batter for hers?” An eyebrow raised.
[That is correct.]
“Even though she wouldn’t have been able to taste it…” she turned to look at the techie, who was putting more of the pancake in her mouth.
“I recommend making Gunquake our husband before somebody else claims him,” Clara advised.
“I’ve already claimed him, you gremlin. What do you mean our husband?” She scowled, but was soon too distracted by finishing off her own food.
The techie smiled. “I appreciate the lengths you went to accommodate my quirks, Gunquake. That level of thoughtfulness further solidifies our eventual merging into one being. I will finish the pancakes not out of politeness, but because they are a close second to my beloved bread.”
[I will choose to ignore the troubling half of that sentence, and just feel glad that you didn’t dislike it.]
“Yeah,” Roxy interrupted, “you really knocked it out of the park, Dubs. Thank you for this.”
“Makes me wonder what else you could convince me to put in my mouth, Gunquake.”
The super glared at her. “How about we quit the horny for one day? Okay?”
“Fine.” Clara rolled her eyes. “Thank you though, Gunquake.”
[My pleasure. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go tidy up.]
Roxy stood up. “Oh, I’ll help.” Her plate was emptied already. “It’s the least I could do, and I wouldn’t want you to get your barrel wet.”
Clara stifled a comment as we left the room, following slightly behind so she wasn’t left out.
[I swept the glass into the corner there, but there wasn’t an easy way for me to dispose of it.]
“Let me handle it.” Her hand ran across my back as she stepped past. “At least it’s in one place. Stepped in some glass out in the garden the other day. For some reason, I want to blame Roy for that.”
[Didn’t hurt you though?]
“Nah. Not even a cut, really. Super strength is weird like that in some ways. Like clearly it affects my muscles, so you might think I could bite though… steel or concrete - but my teeth would shatter just like yours would. Well, not yours specifically, Dubs.”
I watched her withdraw a small dustpan from one of the cupboards I didn’t check through, and she swept the glass into it. After giving the techie a brief glance - as she was now sitting on a stool - my brain finally rolled around to some of my overdue tasks.
[Speaking of that… we should discuss my future mouth.]
While she stood and looked around for something to put the shards of glass in, I hit the taps to fill the sink with hot water. There was a bubble juice here specifically for dirty dishes. Lucky things.
“You’re going to say that you want the real-skin type. Go all out, right?” She gave me a side-eye, perhaps hoping I’d settle for less to save our bank accounts and her wanting lips.
[Correct.]
“I mean, I’d rather kiss something that felt real rather than something metallic or synthetic.” She pulled a face, disposing of the glass. “But that’s a selfish take, as it’s your face, Dubs.”
“We’re likely to have Dr Jarl in our back pocket eventually,” Clara offered. “I have heard—and based on my interview—that he is quite straight-edged and proper, so it might take me a while to bend him towards doing work on you.”
[I wouldn’t want to jeopardize your education by seeming like we are fishing for favors.]
Her description of him made it seem as though he wouldn’t want to give handouts to a once-illegal murderous cyborg. Just so that I could kiss. The question-mark beside his name on my list of potential contacts from my previous life grew fainter, but I wouldn’t entirely write him off yet. Too early and too few answers to discount anyone, no matter how innocent they seemed.
“Of course, Gunquake. We’re on the same page. I actually have a meeting with him tomorrow, as he is keen to get me up to speed.” She smiled and handed me her empty plate. “It feels nice to have someone be able to see my ambition and talent, compared to the League.”
“I’m still on sick leave,” Roxy added, taking the plate from me and putting it in the sink, “waiting for the League to tell me it’s work time. So maybe tomorrow we’ll start some training together.” Her eyes left me to glance at the techie, perhaps expecting her to come in with a smart comment, but Clara just maintained a pleasant smile toward us both.
[I’ll help you work on your lava powers. Probably not too close to the house. Oh, I had a question for you, Clara.]
Her eyebrows raised, and she gave me a nod to continue.
[The tech we acquired last night was Krellian based. Is there a chance that any other parts of my cybernetics came from the Krell Civil War, or that some of my history could be linked there?]
She tilted her head from side to side in consideration. “Unlikely. The Krell didn’t have cybernetics, as such. I believe that port variant was imported technology for them as well, and they had a more basic installation where it was directly affixed to their hearts through their chest.”
Roxy tilted her head back as she washed the plates up. “Aren’t they like… originally of draconic descent? And they used to eat people?”
“To a degree.” Clara smiled. “They have a lizard-esque heritage and appearance, but their barbarism and consumption of other humanoids is slightly exaggerated.”
[Only slightly?]
“Several small sects practiced this, however after their civil war, Krellian numbers were so splintered and few that the World Government were able to finally get a foothold and iron out such detriments to greater society.”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
[That is pretty comprehensive.]
“I knew you’d end up asking about it, so did a few hours of research last night before sleep.”
[Are you sure you can’t read my thoughts?]
Clara grinned and stood from the stool. “Perhaps you should work on being less predicatable, Gunquake? I don’t know what you lovebirds have planned for your rest day, but I’m going to get the workshop prepared for the computer delivery later.”
The super rolled her eyes and watched the techie leave the kitchen. Last of the washing up done, she dried her hands up and then turned to me. Stepped forward and brought me in for a hug, her hands snaking up the back of my top so she could grip at my back.
“You exceeded my expectations this morning, although you do have a tendency to excel at everything you do.” Her fiery eyes narrowed as she smiled at me.
[It was an agonizing process. I’m never cooking again.]
“Asshole,” she sighed and leaned her head on me, “that better be a lie. What did you want to get up to today?”
[It’s a nice day out. Might soak up some sun. Get rid of the kill-room as we could use that space for something more useful in the future.]
“Hmm, I’ll help with that. I can already hear you planning new ways to train, or other buildings. Sunbathing sounds nice too. Perhaps I can equalize out some of my pale parts.”
Given that was everything except her arms and neck upward, I wasn’t sure she’d make much of a dent on the tan lines with one afternoon. Still, I wasn’t going to stop her from trying, considering that it was our rest day… as much as that sounded like the exact day that violence would come knocking.
[Perhaps I will join you in that once my other tasks are complete.]
“It’s not quite a beach episode, but I have a bikini I’ve never worn, and the wasteland is sandy enough.” She wrinkled up her face as she released her grasp of me and stepped back. “I reckon things are going to get a lot more intense over the next couple of weeks, so today let’s live like we have no problems.”
[Sounds like a dream, Roxy. I’ll just switch my canister and I’ll meet you outside.]
She gave me a nod, a quick kiss on my re-breather, and then went upstairs to get changed.
Once alone, I sighed and got a chilled canister from the small freezer. Stims had done some good work overnight, and I felt almost back to peak form already. Had allowed me to sleep easily, and dreamless. Wasn’t sure why I had the aptitude to make decent pancakes on my first try - assuming that it was. I didn’t know what I was doing for most part, only following instructions from my wrist STAR device.
Not that I was complaining. It was nice to receive praise for something that didn’t involve blowing the brains out of the back of someone’s skull.
Despite this domestic bliss... I did miss the more violent options, however.
I lived an undeserving life up until this point, and while it had been a comfort to enjoy companionship and peace, I knew it wouldn’t last. Could feel the vultures circling overhead. I was living on borrowed time, but enjoying every sip.
My eyes watched the last of the suds spiral from the sink and down the drain. Did I really have time to rest? I could be out there killing… oh, I didn’t really have any targets. My left hand flexed open and closed as I considered the fact that I was free and untethered to Boss… and thus from the life of a killer, if I so chose.
Gaze went back over to the lobby as the super came down the stairs. Some awkwardness on her normally confident face, not used to wearing anything so revealing outside the privacy of her own room. Not that I considered we had many eyes on us out here in the outskirts, but it was always her worry.
“You okay, Dubs? Cold feet about going outside?” Her expression signaled that’s exactly what she had going on - although me standing in place when I said I’d meet her outside was perhaps concerning.
[Wow. I mean, no, I’m fine.]
She waved her hands at me. Her plain black bikini suited her figure and wasn’t especially salacious, but she blushed at my brief compliment. “You know how I am about my body image. I feel like I’m going out to do a bodybuilding competition.”
[Well, I’ll be first in line to oil you up.]
Roxy rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Get your ass outside already. I’m going to make a cocktail. Maybe it’ll take the edge of my dumb nerves. Shame I can’t make you one - you mind asking Clara if she wants a drink?”
[Of course, allow me. They do make alcoholic canisters, but based on a sample size of one, I was not a fan.]
She stepped into the kitchen as I went to leave, pausing and slightly blocking my way. “If you get a mouth, will it also fix your eating and drinking? I have this odd urge to just shovel so many different food types down you since you haven’t eaten in years.”
[Unknown. Roxy, I… have considered getting a new arm in the future as well.]
“Oh?” Her eyebrows raised. “What brought that on?”
Many things, really. The realization that I wasn’t tied to being a tool of murder meant that having a shotgun permanently affixed wasn’t useful most of the time. There was the point that I could get a better weapon attachment than a pump-action shotgun. Given that I would need the whole arm replaced… I could even get something real-skin or similar. Have a hand again for holding tools of destruction.
[Mostly so that I could hold you.]
“You’re a terrible liar, Dubs. Can see it in those big greens.” Her expression softened. “Too full of optimism, as well. None of us has the income to fund all these projects at the pace you’re coming up with them. Your stash will only last so long with Clara’s education and the workshop. I can wait for however long it takes - I love you. Just… one step at a time.”
[Understood. I am just used to getting what I want, when I want it.]
She ran her tongue across her lips. “Outside, now. Before you cause a situation.”
I smiled with my eyes, which she could read. Took my leave and left the house, out into the warm morning. Stepped across the soft grass and took my tank top off to throw on my deckchair. I could live in the light. Eyes went over to my old shack. Soon to be a pile of metal scrap that could join the stack of ruined bikes… hmm. The fact that we had a shallow grave just outside our property was something to address soon.
Sounded like Clara was in the larger workshop, so I went over there and knocked on the open door. She was crouched down by the storage area, sorting through a box. She had gotten changed as well, but had switched to a long flannel shirt beneath her gray dungarees.
“Oh!” Her green eyes switched to me as she closed the case, running me up and down. “You should give me more warning, Gunquake.”
[That’s what the knocking was for. Roxy wants to know if you’d like a cocktail?]
“That sort of day, is it?” The techie tilted her head. “Just the one then. I don’t want to be a stick in the mud. She knows how I like them - I’m quite the lightweight, Gunquake… and it would be beneficial I kept my wits about me.”
[With the new computers and workshop things that need sorting?]
“For at least a dozen reasons. We also need to have a serious discussion about what to outfit the workshop with. Doing that before we imbibe alcohol might be better for your bank balance.” She stood up and wiped her hands off on her clothes. “In saying that, you cannot partake, I assume.”
I shook my head.
“A basic canister fabricator would set you back eighty thousand, plus there’s the consumable cost of the canisters themselves. However, they can be reused with a recycler, which is ten thousand credits, and would become money saving at about three and half years in.”
[It was inevitable that you had already done your research.]
She grinned and shrugged. “Much like you must always win, Gunquake, I must always know. Our own fabricator would mean we could make cocktail canisters, or even something with a broken down pancake in them. There wouldn’t be the same kind of taste as eating… but it’s something to consider.”
[We have a computer and the necessary tech to run tests on items. Enough stims for months of me getting into trouble. I suppose the next thing you’ll suggest is a shotgun shell machine?]
“On the same page once again.” She gestured to a space against the side wall. “It is the most beneficial to your work that we have a way to create new cartridges in-house, and allows us to lean into some of the less-legal ammunition types I’ve been designing.”
[Did you say less-lethal or less-legal? Actually, I'll just assume it’s the latter. What will that set us back?]
“Unfortunately, although the machine itself isn’t as high tech as the other things we are acquiring, there is a lot of red tap and a license that must be procured to make ammunition - I’m sure you can imagine.”
[So when do you hear back about the license you've definitely already applied for?]
Clara crossed her arms and grinned. “Although I have sworn not to flirt with you today, I truly appreciate you, Gunquake. Sometime between not soon enough, and just in the nick of time, I’m afraid.”
[Perfect. I want you to buy both things, and look into some cheap prefabs buildings for dedicated storage.]
The techie nodded, but hesitated. “I have put my city apartment up for sale, and… would like some of the eventual proceeds to go toward all of this.”
Standing in the doorway still, I mulled this over. While part of me saw this as all benefitting myself, in truth, this was all our livelihoods. All laying the foundation for our success as superheros aiming to be… well, just better, for starters.
[As you see fit, Clara. I trust your judgement.]
She seemed relieved by my acceptance and nodded at me as I left. Back over the garden and I popped my head through the door to give the drink information over to the super. Without the ability to taste, she apparently preferred it as soft as possible with twice the amount of ice. No need for most of the mixers.
While I waited for her outside, she first brought the coffee table from the lounge out to place between the deckchairs. Then returning after with the two drinks. Clara emerged from the workshop, and after at first being surprised at Roxy’s choice of outfit, shrugged it off and sat at the end of my deckchair to sip at her drink.
“I do have sun cream,” the super offered, “but probably better for after we sort your shack out. Don’t want all the gross dust to stick to us.”
[It’s probably a health hazard.]
“Right? Will be nice to not have that in our line of sight anymore, though. It’s like a… lingering reminder of the miserable life you had before.”
She was entirely correct. Although it might be handy to use it for something, it held too many memories of me wasting away injured, awaiting more contracts to repeat the process. I was energetic and living now. The small metal box was a tomb in the making, and I wasn’t quite ready to die just yet.
[Although I do adore watching you throw things hundreds of feet away, I think breaking it down into nothing would be more cathartic.]
Disassemble that old life.
“Let’s get it over with.” Roxy placed her glass down on the table. “Soon as possible, so that I can just be a zombie. We should pick up some garden furniture sometime.”
“Consider it done.” Clara smiled and kicked off her trainers as she watched us walk over to the lot where my small house stood.
The super stopped beside it and put her hands on her hips, pulling a face at the drab metal. “How’d you want to approach this, Dubs?”
[Following behind you was a rather positive experience.]
She turned her head and scowled at me. “Don’t make me hit you with the no-flirting rule, too.”
[Aw. No shared bath later either?]
“I’m not a monster, Dubs. That does seem to be our thing, huh?”
It was. I wasn’t sure if it was because she had told me that it would change my life, or that I now paired the event with my recovery after she had rescued me that one time… but pleasant memories seemed to crop up around those bubbles and I was happy enough for that to continue.
[If you just take the front off, the roof, walls, and then the floor - perhaps just throw them over to the scrap bikes?]
Roxy wrinkled up her face as she looked over at the wreckage off to the side of my plot of land. “Can do, Dubs.” She gestured for me to step back, and I did so.
A couple of steps over to the corner of the building and she gripped at the edge with her hands. Muscles tightened and rippled as she pulled back, tearing the joined parts away, stepping across in a line as she continued to strip the front wall completely off, exposing the interior of the kill-room to the sunlight.
It was fascinating watching her strength at work, how her very real musculature moved, even though it was empowered with unnatural strength. Most impressive is that she was being slow and careful - if she really wanted to, she could have ripped it apart like paper. Didn’t want to tire herself out or cause any collateral damage, however.
I glanced over at the techie, who seemed to be focused on her own intangible STAR windows as she idly drank from what was probably mostly melted ice at this stage. Turned back just as Roxy spun the first wall out across the ground, the metal bouncing before grinding to a halt just by the wrecked motorbikes.
“How’s it feel, seeing it all come apart?” she asked, as she stepped inside the opening to start popping the roof off.
Felt like the end of an era. My nest of misery brought into the daylight just as I had been, to melt away and become no more. I couldn’t deny my past - that I was still a killer, but now I at least had balance. Could be an even better killer.
[Third best sight of the day.]
Roxy flipped me off before finalizing the removal of the roof, arms outstretch to push it from the attachments to the walls. Cables snapped and crackled as the electric allowing the light and security traps were torn apart alongside the wide metal panel. She turned and threw it; the debris striking the pile of metal directly and knocking a couple of bikes down.
The rest of the walls came down in short order, a swift kick breaking apart the corners of the singular room, leaving the panels to drop to the ground and flood the area with a shallow cloud of dried dust. Each one was then tossed across to join the others.
“I think you’ll owe me one for this, Dubs.” Roxy pulled a face. “If I’m sick tomorrow from all this old grime and shit from you living here, then I’ll kick your ass.”
[Oh, how rude of me. Would you like to borrow my gas-mask?]
Her burning eyes narrowed. “Definitely owe me a favor.”
I’m sure there were worse things than owing the super an ominous and vague favor. Probably wouldn’t be something today, anyway. Once we were done here, it would be time to lie in the sun and pretend my hitman life was just another bad dream.
Roxy grunted as her fingers dug underneath the floor of the building, and gradually she pulled the foundations up. Dirt and amber rock cracked and split, the clatter of pebbles raining down around the shadowed area as she lifted the whole floor up - turning and throwing it toward the rest of the rubbish.
I stepped over to the square patch where my sadness-box used to be.
“Dubs…” A scowl deepened on her face as she also focused on the ground. “What the fuck is that?”
[Looks like… a coffin.]