I leaned my head against the bus window, my eyes slowly drifting shut. Another boring day at school, the same as every one before it. The week after my first night absolutely dragged on. Friday was finally here, but felt like it had come a month late. At least I was feeling better, and I even stopped peeing red yesterday. Things were definitely looking up.
Now the question loomed: what to do with my weekend? I had a bit of homework that would take up today, if I managed to do it. I could go out again, but was still kind of sore. Plus if things went like last time... Well actually that would be pretty okay. Even with my injuries, what I'd accomplished was worth it. Maybe I could finally pick up the courage to call Fusillade first though. Her number was still sitting on my bedside table, and I'd spent too much time already just staring and agonizing over it.
I was scared of bugging her, of calling when she was in the middle of something important. Like, if I interrupted a fight she'd probably be pissed enough to never talk to me again. Not calling was safer, obviously, but that wasn't going to get anywhere. I needed to ask her about being a hero anyway. Maybe she'd be willing to sponsor me for a Squireship?
I sighed and bonked my head against the glass. Stupid thoughts, constantly racing through and filling my head. I hated it, but it wasn't like I could be fixed or something. Abhumans were just weird like that, with little personality quirks unique to each one. Probably something to do with my powers, just like Jung theorized.
The electric drive whined as the bus pulled over to my stop. I thanked the driver as I hopped off and began walking. The weather wasn't great, with dark clouds hanging low overhead. At least the rain held off so far. I counted that as another point in the day's favour...and another argument against going out. My outfit wasn't waterproof and I couldn't really fix that right now. Being cold and wet after getting the crap kicked out of me didn't sound fun.
I guess when I became a Ritter it would all go anyway. They could help me make myself a good, proper costume, instead of using a bunch of thirty-plus year old milsurp crap. It had served me well so far, but didn't exactly scream 'hero'. Just because Fusillade had been nice enough to hear me out didn't mean everyone would. It was fine for now, but was on my list to fix.
I hopped up the stairs to home and walked in. I could smell dinner already in the oven: fish and chips. Friday's meal since I was little. I was looking forward to it, of course; Mom was a good cook. Still, it was a little repetitive.
“Hey Tess,” my mom called as I passed the kitchen. “I hope school was good today.”
“Fine,” I replied with a shrug. It was just school. “Can I go up to my room before dinner? I have homework.”
“You never need to ask, sweet pea,” she said, smiling at the irritating nickname. At least it wasn't my full name... “I'll call you when it's all ready.”
“Kay,” I replied simply and climbed the stairs to my room.
As usual, my bag was dropped by my desk and I flopped face down on my bed. I just lay there, giving myself a minute to not think. It didn't last nearly long enough, and again I found myself wondering what to do.
My head turned and I stared at Fusillade's number on my desk. Would she be busy right now? Surely not, it was barely four. I kept staring, reading it forwards and backwards. I huffed and rolled over, taking my phone out of my pocket and quickly dialing before I could pysche myself out. My heart began to race as it rang.
“Fusillade,” a sharp voice answered. “Go ahead.”
“Um hey,” I said nervously. “It's uh, it's T-- Mercurial. From last week.”
“One sec,” she said, the line going silent for a moment. “Okay we're good on my end. You secure?” I blinked.
“I'm um, alone in my room?” I heard a sigh and some muttering.
“So you're that new, got it.” There was a pause, and I could picture her shaking her head. “It's fine, your ass not mine. What's up?”
“Oh.” I was a little surprised by the mundane question. “Not much. I just got home from school.” There was a beat of silence.
“Why are you calling?” Fusillade sounded irritated and I could see the scowl as she booted Mephisto's head.
“Sorry to bother you!” I apologized quickly, then wracked my brain. “I wanted to know...how things are going, I guess?”
“You do a lot of guessing,” she muttered. “I'll assume you mean with Mephisto. He's in custody, Expi's being done so he'll be off soon enough.” I sighed with relief.
“Cool,” I said. “Glad I put a bad guy behind bars.”
“Yeah...” Fusillade paused. “So, you said you wanted to be a hero. You mean like a Ritter?”
“Yeah.” I perked up and nodded. “Ideally I'd get in on a Squireship, but I don't have a sponsor.”
“What?” She sounded surprised. “Okay you're a kid I assume.” I grunted an annoyed affirmative. “Are your parents not on-board?”
“I'm not telling them,” I said quickly. “I can't like...reveal myself right?”
“You really think you can hide it?” I considered my parents.
“Definitely.”
“That'll make it harder.” Fusillade sounded resigned. At least she wouldn't push it. “Anyway, why bother with a Squireship? That's for clueless brats and regular wannabes. You need work, but you're already playing in the league.”
“Uh, because it's the only way I can get it.” I resisted the urge to add 'duh'. “I can't join the Ritters til I'm 18.”
“What? Why?”
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“Because that's the minimum age of entry?”
“For Yeomen.” Fusillade chuckled. “Lemme guess, that's what you wanted to do before you were Empowered?” I grit my teeth and she sighed. “Yeah no, Ritters aren’t the same. You're Empowered. You can handle yourself. Although...
“What is it?” I asked sharply. If there was a way in I'd take it in a heartbeat.
“Not on an unsecured line.” She hummed thoughtfully for a second. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Uh, nothing,” I replied. “I mean I should probably do my homework but I can do it tonight. So like, nothing important.”
“Let's meet,” she said simply. My heart never physically stopped before, but I was pretty sure it had now. “You choose: masks or no?”
“Wait, is that okay?” I couldn't believe it. “Don't you like, need to protect your secret identity and stuff?”
“You planning on outing me?”
“Never!”
“Then what's the prob?” Fusillade sounded sure. “ 'sides, if you out me that's basically a death sentence.” I gulped and nodded.
“Th- then face to face.” I grimaced. “If that's okay.”
“Yeah cool,” she said casually. “So, where we meeting?”
----------------------------------------
I stood outside the Spider & Fly, a cafe downtown. I had no clue where to meet, so Fusillade ended up choosing. I felt a little underdressed in loose cargo pants and an oversized shirt. I wore a patchy, pleather jacket over it. Kinda trashy, but it was comfortable and convenient.
I arrived a little earlier than planned, and it wasn't helping. Waiting around made me nervous. I didn't want a loitering charge ruining my future. I glanced up and looked around, trying to see if any of the passers-by were Fusillade. Between the hood and mask, I had little to go by. Still, it was probably pretty obvious who--
“Hey,” a familiar voice made me spin around. “Here to meet me?”
I whirled and saw a beautiful redhead with her hair up in braids and piercing blue eyes. She practically towered over me, and though that wasn't saying much it was still striking. She looked at ease in a tight, blue blouse and short, black skirt. Her face told another story though, she was obviously exhausted. Dark circles rimmed her bloodshot eyes, with a depth that took time to reach.
“Fus--” I was cut off as her hand clamped over my mouth. I whipped my arm up and knocked her grip away, stepping back and raising my fists to--
“Don't cause a scene, kid,” she growled. “And if you wanna fight, you'll lose.” I dropped my fists to my sides.
“Fine,” I spat. This wasn't off to a good start. “What should I... what's your name?”
“Rache,” she answered, holding out a hand. “Rache Cooper. And you?” I examined her hand, but didn't take it.
“Tess Franklin,” I said with a little nod. “Sorry about...that. I don't like being touched.” Rache gave a little shrug.
“I can deal with that,” she said simply. “Tess short for something?”
“No,” I replied flatly. I really didn't want that coming to light. “Um, should we go inside?”
“Let’s,” Rache said and led the way into the cafe.
Sure enough, I was dressed the shittiest of anyone. At least no one was paying attention to me. It seemed pretty quiet for a Saturday; not even a dozen people were seated around the wide-open space. Fusi-- Rache strode straight up to the counter, greeting the barista with an easy smile that I didn't think fit her.
“Double espresso latte, large please.” That sounded like a lot. She turned to me. “You getting anything?”
“Oh.” I glanced up at the menu, grimacing at the prices. “Uh, I'll pass.” Her brow furrowed.
“You sure?” Rache asked, cocking her head slightly. “My treat.”
“Oh I can't accept that.”
“I owe you one.” She shrugged. “You like hot chocolate?”
“No but.” My eyes widened. It was a little unseasonable but... “An apple cider? Oh and can I have a pretzel too? Sorry, that's probably too much. Just the apple cider. Small. Uh, please.” I clamped my mouth shut and stared at the counter.
“O-kay.” Rache turned back. “So a medium apple cider and pretzel. Actually two pretzels, I skipped breakfast.”
“You don't have to, really.”
“You're right.” Oh good, she was agreeing. “But I am. It's fine, believe me.” The register beeped as Rache paid and grabbed our pretzels. We moved over and waited for our drinks.
“Thanks,” I said after a minute of silence. “For the stuff, I mean. I um...yeah.”
“Don't sweat,” she replied with an easy grin. “I come here all the time. Believe me, a couple extra bucks won't empty my wallet. 'sides, you earned it.” I felt my cheeks warm.
“Thanks,” I said again.
The conversation lulled as we grabbed our drinks. There were loads of empty tables, but Rache took us to the back where there were a bunch of large, cushioned chairs. There was one other guy here, but he was packing up and leaving. We went to the back pair and sat across from each other, sipping our drinks and eating in silence. The cider was incredibly good, the right amount of sweet, tart, and spicy and the pretzel was wonderfully soft and buttery.
It was hard to believe I was eating with Fusillade , one of the best Ritters in the city. Heroes weren't all exactly celebrities, but she and Bulwark were personally responsible for taking down some of the worst villains. They were fairly new too, only joining a couple years ago, but had been insanely active. A real inspiration to those of us that wanted to be heroes.
“It's good, right?”
“Mmm.” I hummed through a mouthful of food, nodding. “Delish.”
“Yeah,” Rache said thoughtfully. “Probably my favourite place to come and just think...while enjoying a little coffee of course.”
“Little out of my price range,” I said sheepishly. “But um, thank you for showing me.”
“It's nothing, really,” she assured me. “I'll admit, I had another reason asking you to come.”
“You said.” I had been trying to ignore that. Nice as this was... well, Tim always said there was no such thing as a free lunch. “Okay, I guess I'm ready.” I hung my head, nervous.
“You look like you’re about to get arrested,” Rache said sarcastically. “Relax, if anything you should be excited about this.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah seriously.” She offered me a warm grin. “Not every day someone offers you training.” I blinked.
“What?!” I exclaimed, drawing a few glances.
“Pipe down,” she muttered, smile quickly vanishing.
“Sorry,” I hissed, shrinking back into my chair.
“You've got potential,” Rache continued, ignoring my apology. “I'd hate to see it wasted because it isn't properly developed.”
“But what about your...job?”
“Sick leave for the next seven weeks.” Her grimace told the whole story. “Probably a discharge after that.”
“What?” Why?” I couldn't understand the motivation behind sidelining one of their best.
“Take a guess,” Rache growled, glaring at me. My eyes widened as it clicked. Of course.
“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked.” I should have known better, was what I really meant.
“It's fine.” It clearly wasn't but I appreciated that she ignored my gaffe. “Anyway, the long and short is: I need a new partner. If you can impress me, I'll sponsor you for the position.”
“No way,” I whispered, feeling dizzy. There was no way this was real. I dug my stubby nails into my arm, willing myself to wake up and get it over with.
“Way,” Rache replied with a little chuckle.
“But you're you ,” I said, my shoulders hunching as I drew my legs up to my chest. “I'm...you know? Why would you bother?”
“You don't wanna be a villain right?” she said quietly and I nodded swiftly. “Good. I'd rather you not turn out like other Solos too. So, I need a new Duo, and that'll make it easier for you to get in too since I'll vouch for you. What do you say to--”
“Yes,” I blurted, my mouth running ahead of my brain. “I mean, um, please. I could... I could use the help.” It was shameful to admit, but it was starting to sound impossible to do as a real Solo. “But is it...are you really okay? I mean you just...” I couldn't say it.
“It's fine,” Rache said, a hint of tension in her voice. “I'm over it.”
“Really?” It was hard to believe. Rache was stronger than I gave her credit for. No way I could just...move on like that.
“Really.” She sounded sure. “So, in or out?”
“In.” I said, looking up and meeting her eyes. I saw her smile grow fractionally.
“Good.” Rache glanced around before finishing off her coffee. “Let's get outta here, go somewhere a bit less occupied to talk. You ready?” Her eyes widened as I rapidly chugged the rest of the cider.
“Yeah,” I replied, a nervous grin growing on my face. “I guess I am.”