Monday, January 11
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Rocko had been busy; they’d locked their studio door and wouldn’t answer their phone for days. But I’d finally gotten them to pick up, and now the four of us—Pataki, Rocko, Bee, and I—were video-chatting and debating the new suits’ problems and whether they were fixable.
“So, the biggest issue for me is metabolism. I need a better source of sugar if I’m going to pilot the Kaiju-Sona suit,” Bianca said. “That suit takes way too much out of me.”
She wasn’t lying. It had taken her almost a day to recover from less than two minutes of Kaiju mode. That wouldn’t be a problem most of the time, but if 3V1L realized it was a weakness, they could start a couple of must-fight Episodes and wear her down. Just because she was now the biggest hero in Tokyexico City by mass didn’t mean she was unbeatable.
“Alright, alright,” Pataki drawled around their cigarette. “Maybe an IV drip system or a bladder hydration system with cleaning ports to keep the sugar build-up from getting overwhelming. Those are both easy fixes.”
“I’d rather have the hydration system. Better than getting stuck with a needle whenever I want to do superhero stuff.”
“You got it. DuPont, you said you have problems with the Spotlight Star Costume?” Rocko had a pair of cigars going; their eyes flashed toward another door in the back, then back to me.
“I burn through eight powers too quickly,” I said. “I’d already used a power just transforming into Spotlight Star thanks to [Freeze Frame], and [Meter’s Running] is super-unforgiving. Is there a way to give me more powers while in Spotlight Star? Or, I don’t know? Make powers that activate independently not count against the eight-power restriction?”
Rocko raised an eyebrow and glanced at Pataki. The Ilneat tailor shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure how to fix it, DuPont. The Style System didn’t want the suit to exist as it is, and any improvements could make the whole thing stop working.”
“Huh.” I sat there quietly. Something felt off about this. “So, you Ilneats really don’t have control over the Style System?”
“That’s classified information,” Rocko interrupted.
“What you need to know is that the Spotlight Star costume is probably as good as it gets until you’re a major league hero. We might be able to tweak one or two powers, and it’s possible that you’ll level it,” Pataki said.
I took a good look at their background—a spaceship window with a familiar-looking blue-and-green planet in the distance. It was time for a subject change. “So, with you up there, how am I supposed to get the quick intel I need to beat The Agent?”
Rocko’s tone shifted. They’d been a little grumpy, but they’d just turned downright prickly. “DuPont, how about you focus on getting a few other Episodes under your belt? Let us worry about getting you and The Agent into an Episode together later, but for now, figure out how to make Spotlight Star work. That’s your job. Our job is to ensure the Heroics 101 season has all the highs and lows it needs. Stick to your job, and we’ll stick to ours.”
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The Ilneats hung up shortly after, citing a meeting with the Network. I wasn’t sure how much I believed them. Finding time to talk to Rocko was getting frustrating, and when I’d finally pinned them down, Rocko had told me not to worry about The Agent, then squirmed away. That felt…
That felt really weird.
Rocko had been so hyper-aggressive last year and even some of last semester. They’d pushed hard to get one more Episode in or to stick to impossibly demanding schedules. And their door had always been open for me, my whole career. Now, it felt like they were trying to avoid us. They certainly weren’t engaged in Heroics 101 like they had been; it’d been four days since the fight at 3V1L’s secret lair, and the Episode hadn’t aired yet.
“None of this is like Rocko,” I said from the conversation pit’s couch. Bee had her arms around my waist and was cuddling me like a stuffed animal; I’d given up on breaking free and accepted my horrible fate. “They’re usually more…”
“More of a jerk?” Bee said. She snuggled against my back, warming me up nicely. “Yeah, I agree with you. They’ve been so focused on Heroics 101, and now it’s like an endless line of meetings with no time for us. What do you think’s going on?”
“Well, without starting an Investigative Episode?”
She nodded.
“It could be that Rocko’s moving up in the world. If they’ve gotten a promotion, maybe they have to spend more time with the Network, which leaves less time and energy for Earth and us. But something about that feels off. They wouldn’t always be so annoyed, especially not over nothing.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Unless the promotion’s not something they wanted,” Bee said.
We both paused, looked at each other, and burst into laughter. That couldn’t be true. Everything we knew about Rocko said that they’d do whatever it took to move up in the ranks. A promotion they didn’t want was too hard to believe. But it did break the tension; after a ridiculous statement like Bee’s, neither of us could stay focused—or mad.
“How about food?” Bee asked once we’d both calmed down. She pushed me toward the couch’s edge, then climbed over me to stand up.
I sighed and started a Transformation Sequence into Ramsey Fierri, but Bee pulled me out of it before I could finish it. “Not your food. It’s good, but I was thinking about going somewhere?”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. The food court.”
My eyes rolled before I could stop them. “We can do better than that. Come on, find the dress you wore to MacBeth and be ready in half an hour.”
“Half an hour? There’s no way you’ll make it in time,” Bee said. She was already running for the bedroom as I pushed myself off the couch and toward my bathroom. I needed a shower. And make-up. And to pick the right outfit to compliment hers.
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“Fifty-three minutes, twenty-eight seconds,” Bee pronounced triumphantly as I flounced into her passenger’s seat. She started the Civic and backed out while I buckled up. "Slow, slow, slow!”
“I can’t believe you were timing me. So unfair.”
“Oh, come on, you knew there was no way you’d be ready in time.” As we pulled onto University Street, I saw her white dress under the oversized puffer jacket she had on. The car smelled like green apples, too, and I found myself relaxing and melting into the cracked faux leather seat as the heater slowly warmed it up.
“What are we eating?” Bee asked.
“The sushi place?” I suggested, but Bee’s face told me that wasn’t going to fly. “Or…something more filling?”
“Yeah.”
“Italian?”
“Been there, done that.” Bee pointed the car toward Mid-Town. “I’m driving toward Broadway Mall, and if we haven’t picked something I want by the time I get there, we’re going to the food court. So you better think fast.”
“Hamburgers,” I blurted without thinking about it. “Mexican? Thai? Chinese? Steaks?”
“Steaks it is.”
I searched for a place, gave Bee the directions, and returned to melting into her passenger seat. We pulled up to a nearly empty parking lot near Mid-Town a few minutes later. The restaurant still had Christmas lights out, and a half-dozen fake electric candles lighted the entry.
The maitre d’ guided us to a booth in the back, deployed the menus, and left us mercifully alone. “Brittany” would be our waitress, and she’d be by soon. I continued melting into the booth, enjoying the aroma of the restaurant and the green apple smell that lingered close by.
“Okay, let’s talk shop for three minutes, then no business for the rest of the night. Deal?”
“Deal.” I cleared my throat and looked around. The restaurant was completely empty, but even so, I dropped my voice to a murmur. “I think we should target Episodes in our rogues’ gallery. If we keep the pressure up on 3V1L, we might force The Agent to make a mistake. Once he does, we can capitalize on it.”
“That doesn’t sound like the go go go Understudy who’s been pushing hard to corner him and finish 3V1L.”
“Well, that hasn’t worked as well as I’d hoped. We can push against 3V1L, make Episodes for Rocko, and bide our time.” It hurt me to suggest it. I wanted the big win. I needed to bring The Agent in; he’d shot Dr. Jackson! But we didn’t have any leads. 3V1L had abandoned their lair under Callahan’s, and the Mutual Assistance League had almost cut the two Poudre Districts in half.
“Okay. So, Sister Sly?”
“Hasn’t been seen in weeks.”
“Theseus?”
“He’s an option, but I think Alkirk’s been keeping him on a short leash for the last couple of months. We could contact him to see if he wants a rematch.”
Bee went quiet for a bit, poring over the menu. When Brittany showed up, I ordered salmon—I was really in the mood for fish—and Bee got a steak, potatoes, and veggies. Then, an alarm went off on her phone, and she cleared her throat. “Shop talk over. We can talk about work again when we’re in the car.”
“Okay.”
Bread and butter arrived a minute later, distracting us even more, and I got to watch Bee devour roll after roll. She really was a bottomless pit—almost as much as Gourmet. When she’d eaten her three, and I’d had my one, I asked the big question—the one I knew was on her mind. “Do you think your soccer team can beat mine?”
“Absolutely. Your midfielders are weak.”
“Hey, now!” I glared at her, then turned it into a fake pout. “I’m doing my best!”
“I’m sure you are, but midfielders are the glue that holds a soccer team together. That’s why I demanded the spot. When we play each other, we’ll be lining up in the same positions. I’ll show you how the game’s really played.”
I grinned impishly. “Oh, touched a competitive nerve there, huh? And what if we win?”
“You won’t,” Bee said with the supreme confidence of someone telling the absolute truth.
“But what if we do?”
“Oh.” Her cheeks reddened a little. Then she returned my grin. “I’d be very surprised and also in awe of my amazing partner and her team of oranges. It’d be super hot.”
“Aw, you flatterer.” I kicked her under the table.
Our food showed up a little after that, cutting off the public displays of affection. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was, and the salmon on rice had the exact right flavor. Bee was completely silent the whole time we ate, except when I tried to steal a bite of her steak. She growled at me ferally enough that I decided the meat wasn’t worth it.
The ride home was quiet, too. So was the trip up the stairs, and we both flopped into bed in a mutual, unspoken tiredness. I pulled out my phone and checked my emails while Bianca tried to distract me; I’d gotten a message from another student, and I had to know what it said.
Subject: Film History Meeting 1/21
Film History Members,
A reminder that our first meeting is scheduled for Thursday, January 21. We’ll be doing our semi-annual watch of Braveheart—and yes, I know there are flaws all over it. That’s what makes it such a great opening film to dissect. It also matches our second semester’s theme. Please meet at the Alder Building, Room 237. Bring an open mind and a working knowledge of political trends in Europe in the early twenty-first century. If you don’t have one, that’s okay, too!
Ed Fairplay
Bee stole the phone. When she saw the movie we’d be watching, her brow furled. “What’s Braveheart?”