Scene 16 - October 22nd
Interior Thrift Shop, Afternoon
Quinn Kaufman
Instead of going home with Dad after school the next day, I decided to head over to the Waterfront district - I had some shopping that I wanted to do. While I still hadn’t made a decision about being a hero, I definitely didn’t want to stop going out and about as Newton - if nothing else, it made commutes much easier. And if I was going to go out in costume and plaid and get it destroyed as I had last night, I was going to need more shirts.
I mean, I wasn’t exactly planning on getting into more fights, but apparently wearing a costume made them inevitable - I was two for two so far. As such, I was out to find all the cheap flannel I could get in the thrift stores that filled the area.
It was going pretty well when I spotted a familiar-looking face - the blonde girl from the Compound, the one who had introduced herself as Loki’s secret identity. She was browsing a little farther down the aisle, with some finds of her own in a bag. What had her name been? Hollis? Sally? No, Holly!
“Hey, Holly!” I called, walking toward her.
She turned to face me, blinking in surprise. “Quinn?”
“It’s nice to see you again,” I said with a smile. “I didn’t expect to run into you!”
Holly smiled back, “It’s good to see you too,” she said, and glanced down at the bag I was holding. “Wow, that’s a lot of flannel.”
I shrugged. “One of mine got kind of destroyed by, well,” I took a moment to peer around with ESP to make sure no one was paying us any attention - it didn’t seem like it. “By Legion - the bossman probably mentioned what happened.”
“Only briefly. Are you alright?”
“Fine,” I assured her. “Tore through the shirt, but I think my suit must be tougher than it looks. I’ve got nothing worse than bruises.”
“That’s a relief.” Her eyes flickered up and down me for a moment. “Heh. I like your shirt.”
I glanced down to see what I had pulled out of my dresser today - it was the shirt I had found the same night as the PA4, the Mr. Mrs. Dr. shirt that had belonged to my mother. “Thanks! Seems fitting, you know? Anyway, I figure if I’m going to be wearing plaid shirts over my costume, I should probably have some extras. What are you looking for?”
She shrugged. “Nothing in particular, really, I just enjoy looking for deals, you know? I like browsing for stuff and then finding the same stuff, or similar, for less in other places.”
“I see.” I paused, then asked, “do you know if Legion’s been caught yet?”
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
She shook her head. “Not yet. She hasn’t been seen since that night, actually - the conversation you had with her after retreated from the battle was the last reported sighting.”
We stood there awkwardly for a moment, neither of us seeming to be quite sure where to take the conversation, before she shifted a little and spoke again. “You said the shirt was fitting - do you want to be a doctor, then?” I nodded. “What kind? Medical, scientific, magical?”
“Medical. I’m planning on specializing in metahuman medicine - right now it’s just bio, of course. What about you, are you in college?”
“Yeah, I’m a senior at UNV.[1]”
“Oh hey, me too!” I offered a high five, which she returned.
“Nice! I’d say it’s weird we’ve never run into each other, but it’s a big campus and we’re not exactly in the same department.”
“I think we might have been in the same art history course sophomore year, actually,” I said, trying to think. “Big circular hall with a giant holoprojector in the middle?”
“Maybe,” she said thoughtfully. “I definitely took an art history course in that room - Pardee Hall, right? But it had so many people that I really have no clue.”
“Hm. Anyway, I think I interrupted you - what were you saying?”
“You’re good,” Holly assured me. “I was just saying that we’re in completely different departments - you’re bio, I’m magical studies and art.”
“Oh, you’re an artist too?” I asked. “What kind? I do a lot of sketching, myself.”
“Sculpture, mostly, although I dabble in all sorts. It helps with the...” she made a gesture which my eyes and ESP both insisted wasn’t possible - her fingers seemed to pass through each other, and she suddenly had too many of them, and also too few, and even though it took less than a second my head was starting to ache. When she was done blatantly breaking the laws of physics with one hand, she was holding a rose.
I tried to ignore the headache, and reached out. “May I?” She nodded, so I took the rose. I felt nothing, but it moved as though I was actually holding it. When I pressed my fingers together, it actually seemed to be depressing my flesh as though there was actually a stem in the way, even though I could feel that there wasn’t.
It was very, very cool, even if it wasn’t helping my headache to have my senses arguing about the truth.
“I don’t actually use illusions, I manually control photons and sound waves,” she told me, “so I need to understand what makes art realistic. All my work is in hyper-realistic styles to help me get that understanding, even though I’d prefer to work in a more cartoony style.” She sighed. “It would nice to be able to make a portrait in less than 20 hours, you know?”
I nodded. “I kind of get what you mean. I’d like to draw more realistically, myself, but I rarely have time for more than cartoony sketches between all my classes. Hell, I have to do most of that in class.”
“I’d love to take a look sometime, if you don’t mind,” Holly offered. “I can probably give you advice on making your drawings a little more realistic.”
“Would you? That would be great. Art classes just don’t fit into my schedule anymore.”
“Ugh, scheduling is the worst,” she complained. “Magical studies is easy, but like I said, hyper-realism is so time-consuming. Not to mention my, ah, part-time job, and my independent magical research. And just imagine trying to schedule dungeons and dragons around all of that!”
“How do you find time to sleep?” I asked. “Really, I’m genuinely curious.”
“I don’t,” she deadpanned, “I just cover my eye-bags with magic. Who needs makeup?”
We laughed. After a moment, though, I mentally backtracked. “Hold on, did you say that magical studies is easy? I heard that was one of the hardest majors?”
She shrugged. “Eh. It’s more frustrating than hard. So many mages hoarded - and still hoard - magical lore that there’s just not enough information out there. And there’s no practical magic at all, which is part of my frustration. I mean, how can you call yourself a magician without actually being able to use magic?”
“Or at least wearing a top hat.”
[1] University of New Venice.