*
Making a Noise in the World: Part 1
by Domoviye
Phoenix, Arizona
Thursday, October, 13th, 2016
Mid-morning
No one paid much attention to the teenager as the bus made its way to Phoenix. She sat quietly near the back, her head gently rocking to the music from her ear pods, a large backpack sat on the seat beside her. Since the bus wasn't full, there were no complaints about her using both seats. The only odd thing about her was the black glove she wore on her right hand. But that wasn't enough to draw attention. She was dressed like a punk, from the black tights and too short Catholic school girl skirt to the messy pixie cut. A single glove was clearly just her attempt at being unique.
Natalie ignored the world around her, focusing on her notebook. She was busy sketching an arm covered in flowing lines with a musical note beside each one. Despite the sketch getting almost the entirety of her attention, a tiny portion of her mind focused on the music. Currently it was a traditional Chinese song, 'Fisherman's Song at Dusk'.
A small frown creased her brow. She had been practising the Chinese zither over a year ago, and had wanted to perform the same song on stage. Shaking her head, she forced the thoughts away. There was no point in crying over what had happened. Still she skipped to the next song, a piano piece she had mastered when she was ten.
A while later, the bus finally came to a stop. Natalie waited until everyone else was up and leaving before grabbing her backpack and standing up, taking a moment to stretch her back. She hung her ear buds by the wire around her neck and turned up the music. As she slowly followed the line, no one paid attention to the faint musical notes that sounded with each step she took. Once outside she headed through the station to the sidewalk out front, took a deep breath and grinned, looking at the city where she'd get her fresh start.
Taking a cab to a nearby budget hotel, she walked into the place like she owned it. Five minutes and one fake driver’s license later, she had a place to rest her head. Getting it for a week had nearly cleaned out her bank account, but that wouldn't be a problem for long.
Making sure the door was locked, Natalie took off her glove and shirt. Her left hand stroked the hard grey metal of her right arm, tracing the faintly glowing, yellow lines that ran along it, checking for scratches or damage. Satisfied that it was pristine, she emptied her backpack onto the bed. Her few clothes were set aside, while the much more important devises were carefully placed in a row.
“OK, I have four domes of silence, three boomers, five shrieks, the sleeper, and my suits.” she bit her lip, not sure if that would be enough. She wished she could have grabbed some tools, and she still regretted having to leave over five pounds of sonic metal behind, but there wasn't much she could do about it now.
“Remember,” she said to herself, “this is your start up, you just need enough cash to buy some tools, eat and get a place to live. Once you have that, you can build up. This will be easy.”
Taking a small bar made of the same metal as her arm, she placed it on the door and softly whistled, a single glowing line appeared on its surface. If the door opened up it would shriek loud enough to burst eardrums.
Stripping off the rest of her clothes, she took a minute to study her legs. Like her arm they were made of metal to just below her pelvis. There were less of the glowing lines on them, she didn't need as much dexterity to walk as she did to control her hand and fingers. Then she headed to the bathroom, her legs chiming with every step.
Filling up the bath, Natalie looked around nervously, as if afraid someone would appear. She went back into the room and picked up the sleeper, a gun like devise. More confidently she headed back to the bathroom. She spread the largest towel on the floor beside the tub, and placed several towels within easy reach, along with her small bag of soap and shampoo. Turning off the water, she stared at the tub then her limbs.
Closing her eyes, she began humming a simple song to calm herself. Once she felt confident enough, she sat on the side of the tub and whistled a complicated tune, causing her legs to straighten out. Carefully she eased them off from her precarious seat. It took a minute and a near fall but she got the prosthetics off of what was left of her thighs.
“OK, that was easy,” she muttered to herself, trying not to stare at the burned and scarred flesh. “Now the hard part.”
Using just her arms, she gently lowered herself into the warm water. Once she was settled, she grabbed her right arm and whistled another tune, there was a hissing sound and the arm hung loose in her hand. She eased it off revealing a stump that ended a few inches below her shoulder. Placing it on the towel, she once more began humming to herself.
Taking a washcloth, trying not to think of how many people had used the bath before her, she soaped it up and began washing herself onehanded with only a little bit of awkwardness. Her humming never stopped, and she pointedly avoided looking at what was left of her limbs, or the burn scars on the right side of her torso. She sprayed some dry shampoo into her hair, promising she'd wash it properly later.
Done with washing, she used her left arm to lever herself out of the tub and landed a little painfully on the towel. “Next hotel I get, I make sure they have a damn handheld sprayer,” she growled.
After drying herself off, she quickly put her legs and arm back on. Feeling like herself again, she dressed and headed out to scout the neighbourhood and to find a cheap meal.
**
South Mountain, Phoenix, Arizona
Late Evening
“Are you sure you want to be let out here?” the Uber driver asked. “It's not exactly a safe neighbourhood.”
“I'll be fine,” Natalie said, not at all sure if she really would be.
The driver looked at her like she was nuts, then shrugged his shoulders. “You're funeral,” he said as he pulled away.
She couldn't blame him, South Mountain wasn't the most dangerous part of Phoenix, but it was in the top five. A lone teen girl with a backpack walking around at night, with expensive earbuds hanging from her neck playing music, was a victim waiting to happen.
“OK Forte, time to put on your game face,” she said to herself. Straightening her studded, black jacket, she started down the street.
There was a distant gunshot, she forced herself to ignore it. Trying to act uncaring wasn't easy for her, coming from a small town where the worst thing at night were a few drunks. Getting glared at by prostitutes who ranged from pretty teen girls, some younger than she was, to worn out old women made her want to shiver. Seeing people slumped in alleyways, drunk, drugged or maybe dead was another new experience she could have done without.
Unthinkingly she began to hum to herself.
As she walked along, not exactly sure what she was looking for, a man came up beside her. “Give me your bag,” he said, pressing something hard into her side.
Forte froze, a cold flash running through her body. For a moment she had no idea what to do and her heart raced. 'Snap out of it, Forte!' she thought to herself.
“OK,” she meekly said, shifting away from the possible weapon so she could take her backpack off. As soon as there was space between her and the mugger, she jabbed him with her right hand. Two fingers brushed against his temple and there was a deep thrumming from her fingertips. The sound waves reverberated through his skull. He moaned and fell to the ground, unconscious for at least several minutes.
She looked down at the would be mugger then at her hand, still a little stunned at what had happened. Then she let out a squeal of glee. She hadn't had a chance to try out the sleeper on a human, she'd been sure it would work, but seeing it in action was so much different than planning it out and testing it on animals.
Getting herself back under control, Forte knelt down and checked his pockets, there was a small rusty gun, a wallet with some money in it and a phone. Holding the gun in her right hand, she began to squeeze, her entire arm hummed like a hydrolic press. It took a minute, but when she opened her hand there was only a twisted hunk of metal and cracked plastic in her palm. Destroying the phone was much easier. She took the money out of the wallet, tucking it into her backpack and tossed the wallet onto the road.
Ignoring the stares she was getting from a pair of prostitutes, she started walking again, not bothering to look back.
As it got closer to midnight more people wandered the street, many were looking for a good time, heading to a bar usually right after leaving, or being thrown out of, another bar. Others were quietly talking to each other, exchanging cash for a small package. And of course there were men seeking an arrangement with the many women who walked up and down the street.
She'd had to tell several men who propositioned her to screw off, they weren't who she was looking for. It was getting late and even after taking a nap before her meagre supper, she was getting tired. “At least I can be happy my feet don't get sore,” she muttered, allowing herself a momentary, bitter smile.
And then she saw what she had been looking for.
Five guys, wearing similar clothes, drinking some beer and looking cocky. A closer look and she saw one of them had a pistol sticking out of his pants. “All right, Forte, showtime,” she said.
Acting like she was on stage, about to give a performance, she forced a small confident smile to appear and walked up to the group, happy that her knees couldn't shake or give out on her.
“Hey guys,” the most sober of the guys said, “looks like tonight's our lucky night.”
“Girl, you want a good time. I'll give you the ride of your life,” one of them said, grabbing his crotch. The rest of the group laughed, and gave their own, endearing, greetings.
“As fun as that sounds,” Forte said, “I'm here on business.”
“We like business.” the first one said. “Come back to our place, pretty little thing and we'll make sure you get everything you want.” This was met with hoots and hollers.
“I'm not for sale, what I have is,” she said. “Do you have somewhere a little more private to talk?”
That got their attention. They started to circle around her, while the apparent leader said, “We don't like competition here, little girl. You want to sell anything, you gotta make sure we get a cut.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I figured. That's why I'm talking to you, and why I want to sell directly to you. Now do you want to do this right here on the street or somewhere we can sit down and really talk?” It was only thanks to her years of experience on stage that she could sound so confident, when she was on the verge of pissing herself.
“Come on,” the guy said, heading into the nearby bar. The rest of them boxed her in, making sure she followed him. The bouncer looked at her and the guys then pointedly ignored her. They sat down at a table near the back, and a waitress came over almost immediately with some beers.
They took a minute to take a drink and get a good look at each other. They didn't look that impressed with what they saw. When she took off her glove, revealing her metal hand, their eyes widened a little and they sat up straighter. She sipped her beer, making sure they saw how naturally her hand moved.
“So what do you want to sell?” the guy asked.
“Just a second,” she said, reaching into her bag. She pulled out a flat devise about the size of a large tablet, turned some dials and placed it on the table. The music and noise of the bar stopped instantly. Now she had their complete attention.
“I'm Forte, a devisor. That,” she said, pointing at the devise, “is a dome of silence. You can control how big the dome is, from as small as this table to the entire bar. No noise can penetrate it, no noise leaves it. Very useful for private conversations. Its battery will last for a maximum of six hours before it needs to be recharged. The devise itself will work for about five weeks before I need to give it a tune-up.”
They gave the devise an odd look. Everyone had heard of devises, the impossible machines some mutants could create, not many people saw them up close and personal. “No one can hear what we're saying, no matter how hard they try?”
“If they're not in the dome, not a chance,” she replied. That wasn't quite true, magic could probably break through the globe, but it was unlikely anyone would use magic to listen in on some low level gangsters.
“You got any of those cool weapons supervillains use?” one of the other gang members asked.
Forte pulled out two baseball-like objects, one black, one silver. “I've got two working models right now.” Picking up the black ball, she held it out for them to see. “This is the Shriek. Press the button, count to three and throw it. When it goes off, anyone within ten feet of it will have their eardrums popped, and have a headache from hell. Within twenty feet, they'll bleed from their ears and feel like shit.”
Placing it back on the table, she grabbed the silver one. “This is the Boomer. Same as the first, press the button, count to three and throw. When it goes off it lets out a subsonic boom that makes you want to vomit and crap your pants. When I tested it, everything within 10 feet fell down and couldn't get back up for over a minute.”
“How many of these do you have?” the leader asked.
“Right now my supplies are limited, I've got four domes of silence , three boomers, five shrieks. I am building a workshop, once it's set up I can begin making a steady supply of these, along with other items,” she said.
“And what if we just take what you have right now, including you, and make you work for us?”
She whistled. The studs of her coat turned into a liquid, spreading across the jacket and hardening again. From under her collar the same metal surged upwards covering her head, leaving tiny slits for her eyes and nose. The glowing lines on her right hand were almost blinding now and the humming sound set their teeth on edge.
“This is sonic metal. My own personal invention,” she said, her voice distorted by the metal. “Bulletproof, knife proof, and I have complete control over it. I'm willing to sell you some of my devises, but I keep the best ones for myself.”
The gang members were leaning away from her, not cowed by her demonstration, but definitely wary of her.
“Now,” she said, keeping all of them in her view, “there are three options for you. The best one, we make a deal and keep doing business in the future. The second best, I take my things and walk away with no hard feelings. Or the last option, you try to fuck with me and find out what happens when you piss off a supervillain who can turn your brain into slurry. What will it be?”
The leader began laughing. “I like a person with balls! My name's Foot Long. We'll talk tomorrow and we might have a deal.”
Forte was very glad her mask hid her blush and look of disbelief at his name. Getting her emotions back under control she whistled, making her armour disappear again. She was grateful that it hadn't come down to a fight, since she didn't know if her armour really was bulletproof. Hiding her fear behind a smile, she raised her beer, “I like a person with brains, Foot Long, lets hope we can make a deal.”
**
Friday October, 14th, 2016
Late morning
Natalie buttered another scone and leaned back contentedly, as instrumental jazz filled her ears. She probably shouldn't have spent so much on brunch, but thanks to taking the muggers wallet she had some money to spare. It wasn't enough to start buying any decent tools or rent a place, so it might as well go towards keeping her fat and happy.
She checked her phone again to make sure she hadn't missed a message from Foot Long. She still couldn't believe that was his nickname, even after he'd offered, numerous times, to show why he'd gotten the name.
Still nothing.
Nibbling on her scone, she began writing down the cheapest tools and chemicals she would need to begin her plans. Most of it was easy enough to get, a quick trip to a hardware store and a big box store would do. She'd figured out how to make sonic metal with stuff she found in her parents home, and a lot of recycling. With her own work space, not having to hide what she was doing, and working with an actual budget she could start making her more complicated designs and really begin building.
Her biggest problem would be transporting everything. Uber, public transit and her own feet could work for basic errands, but going to a weapons deal, moving the product, and other things needed something a bit more discreet. She glared at her cybernetic hand, unfortunately she didn't know how to drive.
How did criminals and supervillains hire help? She knew about the Syndicate and other groups, they weren't exactly secret. But knowing about them from TV and the net was different from actually knowing how to contact them in real life. Maybe she could find one of the many supervillains in the city and talk to them.
Natalie shook her head at that one, she'd come off looking weak and she'd owe a favour to a supervillain. Frankly, she'd much rather have them owe her favours. A bigger problem was if they thought she was a plant or something went wrong, then she'd be in a fight. She had some tricks to deal with violence, but she'd be the first person to admit that fighting wasn't her thing. Best to avoid the possibility as much as possible.
Her scone went flying as her phone buzzed.
Blushing at the stares from the waitresses, she picked up the scone, putting it off to the side before looking at the message. It was from Foot Long telling her to meet him and his people at Arizona Mills shopping mall, at two.
Her eyebrows raised at that. She'd thought they'd want to meet at some bar again, or maybe an abandoned building, but a shopping mall, especially the biggest one in the city. She was not expecting that. Still, that would make it harder for either of them to screw the other over.
Smiling to herself, she began packing up her things. There were things to do before she showed up.
**
Arizona Mills,
Afternoon
“Oh yeah, this is a great place to meet,” Forte muttered to herself.
The Phoenix Warriors were putting on a display for the crowd. The entire team wasn't there of course, since it was a weekday and just a little before 2pm, there weren't enough people to make it worth their time just yet. Instead the two newest members of the team, Sun Hawk and the rookie Mogollon Monster were signing autographs, getting their pictures taken, and generally showing off.
She had to admit that seeing Sun Hawk flying in her golden, feathered costume was impressive, and watching the Sasquatch-like Mogollon juggle two truck engines made her hope she never had to fight the big mutant.
Superheroes had never interested her before. She knew the basics and would watch them on the news sometimes, but her focus had always been on music. However in the last six months, as she'd developed her plans learning more about them had become her top priority. The online community was pretty sure Sun Hawk was a college student, who could fly, had slightly above human strength and relied on speed and agility to fight. She was primarily a scout, who did hit and run attacks on major threats, and would remove minor threats and minions as quickly as possible. Mogollon had appeared in the summer, so he was probably eighteen and just finished high school. Not much was known about him other than that he had gone toe to toe with The Cannibal for over a minute and came out of it with a few bruises after being tossed in front of a speeding transport truck.
Both of them would be bad news if it came to a fight. Against Sun Hawk, she would have to try to catch the hero off guard and hit her with whatever she could and not stop until the hero was down for the count, not exactly an easy task. Her only hope against Mogollon would be putting him to sleep for a few minutes so she could run like hell.
Sun Hawk landed beside her. Cursing herself for staring, Forte forced herself to smile, hoping they wouldn't hear the faint notes of her cybernetics over the noise of the mall and her earbuds.
“Shouldn't you be in school?” the hero asked.
“I- uh, I graduated last term,” she said. Her cheeks lit up at how terribly she'd lied.
The superhero laughed, she sounded and looked young, only a few years older then Forte. “Right. Don't worry, playing hooky, once in a while, isn't too bad. Just don't make a habit of it,” she stressed. “Do you want a picture with us?”
“Sure,” Forte's mouth said, without checking with her brain first. Not that it mattered much anyways, all her brain could do was pray to whatever gods were listening that the superheroes didn't check her backpack and discover the weapons.
Sun Hawk waved Mogollon over. He walked over grinning, showing off enormous teeth, as he loomed several feet above her. “Hi,” he said, his accent sounded Korean or maybe Chinese. Kneeling down so he was able to look at her eye to eye, he held out his hand. “I'm Mogollon, and you are?”
“Nat,” she said, barely stopping herself from saying her full name. She put her gloved hand in his and gingerly shook. The feedback sensors in her arm told her that his grip was very light, barely touching her, she didn't want to think of what he could do to her hand if he used even a fraction of his strength.
“If you give Mogollon your phone, he can get all of us in the shot. He's a great photographer and his long arms are fantastic for selfies,” Sun Hawk said.
Very carefully so as not to show anything that she shouldn't, Forte pulled her phone out of her bag. It was only through a supreme act of will that the smile stayed in place. Handing over the phone, which looked like a toy in the huge hero's hand, she let the heroes lean in and made a peace sign. She looked out of place with her black studded jacket and punk look, next to the jeans and polo shirt of Mogollon and the golden suit of Sun Hawk, but they didn't seem to care and there was no way she was taking off her protective jacket.
When she got her phone back so they could look at the photo, she had to admit that Mogollon really was good at taking photos. She wondered if she should print it out and frame it, in honour of tricking the heroes.
“That is really nice,” Sun Hawk said. “Do you mind if we post it online?”
Her heart stopped. If she said no, it would look suspicious. If she said yes, her face would be plastered online with superheroes. “Sure, that would be great!” she said, her mouth once more acting without her brains permission. It took a moment to share the photo, and then Forte knew she had to leave before she did something truly stupid or had a heart attack. “Thanks, but now I've really gotta go now. I'm meeting friends and stuff,” she said.
“Go have fun,” Sun Hawk said. “But on Monday be in class on time, got it?”
“I will,” she replied, before hurrying away.
A few minutes later she saw her potential customers sitting in the food court, talking, sipping some drinks and snacking on fries. She had to admit they didn't look like they wanted to cause any trouble, much less that they were about to buy some weapons.
“Hey Foot Long,” she said, taking a seat across from him and an older guy she didn't know.
“Forte, this is Clumsy,” he said. “I've told him about your stuff and he's interested.”
“It's a pleasure to meet you, Clumsy,” she said.
He looked her up and down, his face not revealing anything. “Lets see that silencer of yours,” he said.
Since the dome of silence didn't look like anything except an interesting electronic device, she didn't hesitate to dig it out of her bag. Placing it on the table, she turned it on, letting them both clearly see what she was doing.
“You said this lasts for six hours, how do you recharge it?” Clumsy asked.
“Use a universal USB charger. It'll take ten hours to fully recharge, I'm working on ways to speed that up. And it will last 6 hours at its lowest setting. If you set it at max it'll last about an hour,” she said.
“How about this tune up thing you told my guys about?”
“It's a high end devise, it only works because of my power. So when its away from me it starts to wear out. With the simpler things like the shriek or boomer, they'll be good for three or four months,” she explained. “When it runs out, you bring it to me and for a small fee I'll get it working again in an hour or two.”
He nodded, still not revealing his thoughts. “About your weapons, we don't need grenades. The cops and heroes would be on our asses for that.”
“Right, but these aren't regular grenades,” she said. “If you use them all that witnesses will hear is a loud noise. There wouldn't be any explosions, no damage besides maybe a few windows breaking, and no dead bodies. The people will be down and out, so you can do whatever you want to them, including leaving them alone. Even a medical report will just show that they have popped eardrums and maybe a few burst blood vessels in their eyes. And these are reusable. You can pick them up again, bring them to me and I just have to change a few minor parts to have them working again. Even if you leave them there, all the cops have is a weird ball full of useless electronics and a speaker.”
Now he leaned forward, clearly interested. “I'll think about the weapons. But I'll want a demonstration to see that they work.”
“Of course,” she agreed.
“Now how much for the silencer?” he asked.
Smiling, she leaned in ready to haggle.
**
Evening
“That's disappointing,” Natalie said, looking over her funds.
She'd gotten a nice chunk of change for the dome of silence, but it wasn't nearly enough to do everything she wanted. Spending more time wandering the streets looking for a gang to do business with was one option, but it wasn't a great one. Finding Foot Long and Clumsy had been a remarkable stroke of luck already. If she was lucky, they'd start spreading the word among people they knew. But to do it twice in the same week, that was unlikely.
If they'd bought the weapons as well as the dome, she would have had enough to work with, but as it was, she was going to be in trouble.
“There's only one thing I can do,” she said, “I've gotta rob a bank.”
**
Saturday, October 15th, 2016
Afternoon
“Well that sucked,” Natalie muttered to herself while waiting for the server to come back with her food.
She'd spent all day going around the city looking for supplies, the basic things weren't that hard to get, her backpack was full of cables, electronic parts, portable speakers, and a nice little electronic tool set. She could start working on the innards of some of her devises with that.
But most of her big plans needed things that she couldn't buy without the proper licenses, and a seventeen year old high school dropout wasn't about to get those licenses anytime soon. Without at least some nitric acid, sodium perchlorate, and about half a dozen other restricted chemicals, she wouldn't be able to improve her cybernetics. She had three formulas and plans that would cover the notes that played every time she moved her legs and arm, but they all required things she couldn't get legally.
This was worse than when she was back home and had to carefully steal everything she needed while her parents were at work. She had complete freedom to do what she wanted, but not enough money or supplies to actually do anything.
Even worse, if she successfully robbed a bank, she still couldn't get the most important things. Where did the other supervillains get their stuff?
Her angry thoughts were cut off with the arrival of food. Digging into her meal she began planning.
**
Phoenix College
Sunday, October, 16th, 2016
Noon
Forte strolled through the college campus, humming to herself, trying to look inconspicuous. She was wearing a black wig and had carefully done her makeup to look older, she also had her large backpack seemingly holding books, pens and other things. The campus wasn't very active, most of the students and staff were off doing something for the weekend or were inside eating lunch.
This wasn't her first time at the campus. When she had been fourteen, she'd taken a summer course on contemporary music that was open to a small number of Arizona teens. She allowed herself a small smile at the happy memory of playing in a band of equally talented kids her own age. Of course that had been topped a year later when she and her parents had the opportunity to visit the Yale School of Music and talk to several of the music professors. They hadn't guaranteed her a spot after graduating high school, but they'd told her to apply there first.
The smile dropped from her face. Applying to college wasn't in her future anymore, now she was simply robbing them.
“Focus, Forte,” she said, scolding herself. “You cannot screw this up. Who ever heard of a supervillain being arrested robbing a college?”
She came to the Dalby building, home of the science department. Humming once more, she tried the door and found it unlocked. She'd thought it would be, presumably professors and students would want to access the building for different reasons, but she hadn't been sure. It would have been embarrassing to be stopped by a single locked door.
Now came the big problem, finding the supply room. She'd looked for a detailed map before coming, but for some reason they hadn't marked down the room holding dangerous chemicals for the general public. So she resorted to the old fashion method, walking down the halls casually looking at doors until she found the right one.
The room she was looking for was on the second floor. Marking it down in her mind she kept walking, looking into each room with an open door to see if anyone was around. Satisfied that she was alone, Forte raised her right hand pointing it down the hallway and let loose a high pitched whine. The hallway lights went out, and so did any security cameras that might be recording things.
Jogging to the storage room she put her hand against the door and released another whine which would destroy any alarms on the door itself. Kneeling down, Forte switched most of the remaining power in her cybernetic arm into its strength, made a fist and punched the door handle. Her arm moved far more rapidly than a natural one could, breaking not only the handle but leaving a fair sized hole where the handle used to be.
Rushing inside, she began reading the labels of the various bottles that were stored neatly around the room. The ones she needed went into her bag. She had to rip open a few locked cabinets to find the more dangerous chemicals, like mercury, but even with that delay she was out of the room in less than three minutes.
Walking back across campus with her bag full of chemicals, Forte forced herself to be casual. As long as no one stopped her before she got on the bus, her first crime had gone flawlessly. Unfortunately, her right arm was almost out of power after all of that. It wasn't quite dead weight, but she wouldn't want to rely on it for anything important. If she got into a fight now, she'd have to activate her suit to have a chance.
Fortunately no one stopped her, and once she was on the bus she was able to lean back and relax.
**
Goodkind Bank, Downtown Phoenix
Monday, October, 17th, 2016
Mid-morning
Forte hummed to herself as she waited in line. Between looking for supplies, robbing the college she hadn’t had as much time to prepare for the bank robbery as she’d have liked, but having spent an hour watching the bank, she decided it was a safe bet, especially with her disguise. Instead of being a punk girl with short brown hair, she looked like a proper young woman, with shoulder length blonde hair, an ankle length beige skirt, a white blouse, a light brown vest, a cross hanging from her neck, and a pair of thin white cotton gloves.
The bank wasn't very busy, which could be good or bad, depending on what happened in the next few minutes. She decided to take it as a good sign, there was less chance of anyone stopping her if things did go wrong.
Stepping up to the teller, she put on her brightest smile. “Hello there. I'd like to make a withdrawal please.”
She held a check size piece of paper where the teller could read it. 'Please fill two envelopes with cash, and do not leave my sight.'
The tellers eyes widened a little, but she didn't panic. Forte breathed a sigh of relief at that, if anyone started screaming about a robbery there wasn't much she could do except run for it. She kept smiling and hummed pleasantly to herself, trying to act as normal as possible.
The teller did as she was told, and placed two large envelopes on the counter, they looked quite thick. Placing her right hand on the envelopes there was a momentary whine that made her teeth ache, then she put them and the note in her oversized bag. “Thank you very much and god bless,” she said.
Heading for the doors, she forced herself to walk normally and to keep her eyes on the door. She couldn't screw things up now. She picked up the pace once she was outside, taking a turn at the first opportunity.
Taking a hat from her bag she pulled the wig off and put the hat on in one smooth motion. The wig went into the bag. She pulled her blouse up, unbuttoned it and tied it up to show off her stomach and breasts better. Then she pulled at her skirt, the hidden seam let go and she was suddenly wearing a mini skirt and white stockings. The tear away fabric was quickly folded and placed in her bag. Finally she put on a pair of John Lennon sunglasses. The only things that she kept unchanged were the cotton gloves and the vest.
One or two people were looking at her oddly for the quick change, but no one stopped her. A police car raced past, sirens blaring, she watched it go past and grinned when they never gave her a second glance.
She began to skip to the bus stop and a minute later was on a bus heading well away from the scene of the crime.
**
Late Afternoon
Sitting in her hotel room, Natalie had her ill-gotten goods out on the bed, counting her earnings.
“Four thousand eight hundred seventy,” she said, putting the last bill down in the proper pile. “Damn! I should rob banks more often.” It wasn't a fortune, but it was more money than she'd ever personally had, and far more than she'd ever held in her hand. Best of all her expenses had been minimal, just some new clothes and a wig.
Then she looked at another much smaller pile. This one contained a dye pack, and two very small GPS transmitters; they'd been disabled in the bank thanks to her in-built devise. Her grin got bigger thinking of how frustrating that must have been for the police and the bank. The parts and dye could be useful as well, looking over blueprints online was one thing, having the actual electronics to study was infinitely better.
Turning on the news, she saw that while her robbery wasn't the top story, it was being mentioned. The police and the public were looking for a blonde teenager, which made her laugh with delight. She had been pretty certain her plan would succeed, she'd studied enough bank robberies before coming to Phoenix, but she hadn't thought it would go so well.
This was definitely a reason to celebrate.
**
Musical Instrument Museum
Tuesday, October, 17th, 2016
Early Morning
Natalie felt truly at home for the first time in over a year. Looking at the hundreds of instruments that filled the gallery, music filled her mind, and her fingers twitched, eager to play along. She'd been here many times as a child, every time her family had come to Phoenix, she'd begged them to take her to the music museum.
A class of young students was slowly making its way through the museum, heading towards the Experience Gallery. She decided to follow along, remembering how much she'd enjoyed it when she was their age.
In the large gallery were instruments from all around the world, percussion and string instruments, accordions, singing bowls, keyboards and pianos, and unique, one of a kind machines that produced musical notes. Museum staff were showing the children how to use each one, making sure they didn't damage anything, and chuckling as the children made a racket that they claimed was music.
Natalie went to a clear space near the harps and sat down to watch. She remembered being like them once, but she hadn't been content to just make noise. She'd practised at home, at school, on the bus. First she had sung, then she'd gotten piano lessons, then the violin and guitar, and then she'd insisted on more exotic instruments, harps, the bamboo flute, and more.
Her fingers stroked the string of a harp.
“Can you play?”
She almost jumped, she hadn't seen or heard the young boy come over as she'd been lost in thought. “I used to, I can't anymore,” she said.
“Why not?” he asked.
She raised her gloved right hand. “I got hurt.”
“Oh. This museum is boring,” he said, in the typical bluntness of children.
“You don't like music?”
He shrugged.
“Would you like to hear a song?” she asked.
“I thought you couldn't play?” he said.
“I can play a little,” she admitted.
He sat on the floor, looking up at her, still looking bored but willing to listen.
Taking off her glove, he let out a gasp at the faintly glowing swooping lines and whirls the covered it. She gently whistled, causing the metal fingers to sharpen into tiny talons. “OK, I haven't played a harp in over a year, so don't laugh if I make a mistake.”
He nodded, his eyes glued on her hand.
She began strumming, running her finger over the strings. “This is Peruvian harp,” she said. “It's lighter than a European harp, and you play it more like a guitar,” she said. The boy probably wouldn't remember what she said, but she couldn't resist passing on a bit of what she knew and loved.
Her left hand quickly remembered what it was supposed to do, plucking the strings with her fingernails. Her right hand wasn't so cooperative. She winced as the fingers refused to move as quickly or as smoothly as they should. It took a minute to work out the pattern of muscle movements that allowed her to at least move her fingers in something resembling the proper order.
She began playing a simple lullaby, anything more complicated was impossible for her now. Closing her eyes, she let the music overtake her. When she finished the song, she immediately began another one. The mistakes rang loudly in her ears, but simply holding an instrument again and making some music, no matter how simple, made her smile.
Opening her eyes, she realized she had an audience. Several children were now sitting around her, listening to her play and a few of the adults were coming over as well. Backing away from the harp she tried to put her glove on, but it caught on her talons.
“That was really good,” a museum worker said. “You've had professional training?”
“A little,” she replied, putting her right hand behind her back.
“Can you play anything else?” a little girl asked.
“No, I don't think so,” Natalie said, still trying to put her glove on, before anyone saw her cybernetics .
The worker looked at her more closely. “Hey aren't you Natalie Foster?”
“What?!”
“I remember you now. You used to come in here a few times a year and try to play every instrument, I watched you perform two years ago at the Young Musicians Concert,” he said.
She remembered that concert. She'd done so well she was supposed to go to the next one, but then the accident happened. “I'm sorry you have the wrong person.”
“Why is your hand glowing?” a child asked.
Natalie turned to see several children leaning in close to look at her hand. Putting her hands back in front of her, she gave the glove a hard yank. The fabric was shredded by the talons. The adults could clearly see it now.
“What is that?”
“Is she a mutant?”
“Are those claws?”
Natalie pulled her sleeve down trying to cover her hand that way. “I should go,” she said, ducking her head and practically racing for the exit to escape the questions and looks. She called an Uber as soon as she was outside, and hid her hand inside her purse until she was back in her hotel room.
Sitting on the bed, she stared at her hand. It wasn't good enough. It needed to be better. She needed to be better.
“I need proper tools and a workshop,” she said. “I'm going to need more money.”
**
Bank of America
Wednesday, October, 17th, 2016
Late Morning
Forte, now with black hair and black gloves, looked fairly ordinary in faded, stretchy jeans, a beaded black jacket and a black backpack, smiled at the teller as she held up her bank robbery note. As expected the teller filled the two envelopes with money and handed them over. Using her inbuilt devise to break any electronics that might be hidden in the money, Forte calmly slipped them into her backpack and walked out smiling.
If anyone had told her a year ago that she would become a successful two time bank robber, she would have laughed at them. Actually a year ago she probably would have cursed them out using every swear and insult she knew and then fallen even deeper into suicidal depression. Laughing quietly to herself, while still heading for the nearest side street, she marvelled at how much things had changed.
“Miss, I don't think you filled out the forms for that money,” a man said.
She didn't look around to see who had spoken to her, she didn't pause in shock, she didn't even start thinking of excuses, she simply started running as fast as she could down the street. She managed to make it all of five steps when she stepped on an empty bottle and her foot went up, and she went down, painfully landing on her back.
Blinking spots of pain from her eyes, she looked up at a masked man. She groaned in disgust, his grey mask that gave the impression of rabbit ears was distinctive, she was dealing Jackalope. He was a street level crime fighter, who could screw with peoples luck. It was usually something minor, hitting a traffic jam, coming to a locked door, a gun misfiring, running into a cop, or tripping on something.
“I was trying to catch the bus, think you can help me get a lift to the Arts District?” she asked, not getting up and hoping to buy time for the pain to stop.
“No, I'm going to have to insist you come with me to the police station. Then we can see about getting you a lawyer,” he paused, looking at her a bit more closely, “or your parents. How old are you?”
Ignoring the question, Forte started to roll onto her knees and stopped with a groan that was one hundred percent real. Raising her left hand, she asked, “Can you give me a hand? I think I might have sprained something.”
He eyed her very carefully before moving to help her. She tried to keep her eyes on the ground avoiding him and the onlookers, trying to look ashamed. She kept her right hand close to her side as if it were hurt. His grip was very firm, and he pulled her upright extremely easily. She stumbled a little, getting in closer than he planned.
Her right hand lashed out, aiming for his head, her sleeper devise already humming.
He stepped out of the way, giving her a little push so she landed on her hands and knees. The growing crowd of onlookers burst out laughing. “This is getting embarrassing,” Jackalope said. “If you keep this up, you're not only going to get hurt, but you'll get charged with assault. You're a teen, you give up now, you can get off with some time in juvie and a lot of community service.”
Forte whistled. The beads on her jacket popped off revealing sonic metal which covered the lining of her coat. Her wig was pushed off by the flowing metal that formed a helmet over her head. Her left arm gained a clawed gauntlet and armour all along it. Her cybernetic arm was covered in twisted strands of metal and her fingers grew to reach her knees becoming supple and whip-like. The crowd backed away in shock and fear.
Jackalope had jumped back and pulled a metal baton from his belt in the few seconds it took for the armour to form. “OK, now things have gotten serious,” he said. “But you still haven't hurt anyone, we can deal with this peacefully. I'll help you out with the MCO, and get you a fair deal with the prosecutor. You're young, you've made some mistakes, but it doesn't have to be the end of the world.”
Forte tried to keep her emotions under control. This was not what she wanted. If she'd just managed to touch his head she'd have been home free. Now she had to fight, and she had no idea how to actually do that.
Police sirens wailed.
There was only one option for her.
The yellow flowing lines of her suit became brighter, a loud rumbling came from the metal. “EVERYONE!” she shouted. “Get back!”
The onlookers hurriedly moved away. The smarter ones kept going, the ones aiming for a Darwin award only backed up a few yards.
Jackalope didn't move. “The police are here, and I just called the Phoenix Warriors. If you-”
“Time to make a noise in the world,” she whispered.
The rumbling stopped, replaced by a subsonic noise that the human ear couldn't detect. The sound waves spread out from the suit, glass cracked from the vibrations. As the waves hit the crowd, people recoiled, retching and vomiting, some fell to their knees and soiled themselves. Those who were far enough away merely gagged as their guts and bones began to vibrate.
Jackalope somehow stayed upright, but he was bent over, noisily throwing up. All around him lights flickered, doors slammed open and shut, and electronics went haywire. Even when the subsonics stopped a few seconds later, he couldn't stop vomiting. Stepping towards him, Forte gently brushed her long fingers across his mask. He collapsed to the sidewalk, asleep and dead to the world.
Looking around she saw several police cars had stopped well away from her. A soft note in her ear informed her that her suit was low on power. She took off running.
**
Phoenix Warriors HQ
Early Afternoon
Jackalope, wearing a pair of sweats while his costume was washed, sipped a can of ginger ale, trying to make his stomach stop doing flip flops. There was a knock on the door, a few seconds later the door to the guest bedroom opened up and Lolomi, leader of the Phoenix Warriors stepped inside. He didn't look like much at the moment wearing a basic turquoise, white, and yellow uniform with a large domino mask that didn’t cover his greying, black hair. But his uniform wasn't really important. When the origin hero activated his power very little could actually harm him, and he would be hard to miss.
“Hey Iggy. How are you feeling?” Lolomi asked.
“Like I had an all you can eat smorgasbord from a shitty Chinese restaurant dumpster in July,” Jackalope said. “What the hell did she hit me with?”
“Janet is pretty sure it was a sonic attack. Non-lethal but very incapacitating, and you got hit twice. First by the one that did a number on your stomach and then by another that basically put you to sleep.”
“That shouldn’t have worked. I have earplugs that block sonics,” he said.
Taking a seat, Lolomi said, “According to Janet the attacks bypassed your ears. The sound waves hit your body and made your bones vibrate. Regular sonic protection is useless against it.”
“Damn. Did she hurt anyone after I went down?” he asked.
Lolomi shook his head. “No. There were about a dozen people who got hit like you, a few of them needed a change of clothes, they got anti-nausea medicine if they needed it and were released. You got it worse because you were so close. After taking you out, she took off running, losing the police by entering a building, where she did something that took out all the electronics in her immediate area. We suspect she dropped the armour and ran away with everyone else in the chaos.”
“Yeah, that sounds like something she'd do,” Jackalope said.
That earned a questioning look.
“I only dealt with her today,” Jackalope said, “but she is definitely not a fighter. I saw her attack coming a mile away, and even with her scary suit she used that vomit attack instead of going hand to hand. Anyone with some training and a suit like that would give me a run for my money.”
“So she's some scared kid, who can't entirely use her powers or tech?”
“She isn't scared. She knows what she can and can't do and had a plan. You saw the videos from the first robbery, she was calm, acted naturally, and did a quick change to throw off pursuit. When I caught her, she didn't act scared. She tried to run, then to trick me, and only when they all failed did she pull out her big guns. As soon as I was out, she escaped, apparently with a plan for that as well.” He shook his head. “That is not something a scared or stupid teenager does.”
Lolomi scratched his chin, thinking it over. “Did she reveal anything? Like a name?”
“Nothing like that. She mentioned the Art District, I'd be shocked if she was actually staying there. She looked to be about seventeen or eighteen, but with mutants she could be thirteen or forty. Still I'd say late teens from how she acted. When she activated her armour she whistled, and you said she used a sonic attack? So a devisor who specializes in sonics?” he thought out loud.
“A devisor is my first guess as well, but let's not get too far ahead of ourselves just yet, this could be a shifter, magic, a manifestor, an experiment, someone with stolen or borrowed tech, a non-human entity, it could even be a GSD case using something to look baseline. Remember the Devil of Dallas?”
Jackalope winced at the memory of that fiasco. Too many people had died thinking they were simply dealing with a powerful mutant, who had turned out to be a Class X entity.
“Janet hasn't found any reports of someone like her,” Lolomi continued. “Armour covered in glowing yellow lines isn't exactly subtle, so she's almost certainly new to the scene. A search of MIDs didn't come up with any teens or adults like her either. We could be missing something there, but right now it's the best we can do. So barring robots and non-human entities, we're probably dealing with a teen, possibly thrown out of their house, a runaway, or an experiment. They likely gained their powers within the last few months to five years. Not a fighter. Smart and likes to plan. Cool under pressure. Trying to be secretive, but willing and able to throw down. Fortunately, she doesn't seem to want to hurt people, but she will use area of effect attacks.” Lolomi frowned. “We'll want the experts to really dig into things to create a proper profile, but I don't like this. If we don't get her under wraps, we could end up with a competent supervillain.”
That was not a pleasant thought. Phoenix already had enough problems trying to keep the cartels from breaking into open warfare or becoming a serious threat to civilians, along with regular high crime and supervillains. Adding another threat would just stretch them that much further. And if the girl was a runaway who thought she didn't have any other choice, Jackalope didn't want to let her fall into crime.
“What can we do about her?” he asked.
“If she's just getting some funds to leave town, she's probably already gone, so we can't do much besides spreading the word. If she's planning on sticking around we need to catch her quickly and cleanly. Since we don't know her exact powers or origin, I'll put out the word that if she is spotted we try to avoid going after her solo. Follow her, track her to wherever she's laying low and call in reinforcements.” He paused for a few moments, closing his eyes in thought.
“If she's a non-human, we hand her over to the DPA. Provided we can take her alive or are willing to try,” Lomoni said, his expression grim. “If she's a teenager, she's our problem. She's probably too old to ship off to Whateley, but she's smart. If she's willing to play ball, I can pull some strings and get her working for us under probation and house arrest. Butter her up a bit, get Mogollon and Sun Hawk to be friendly. If she's a devisor or gadgeteer, have Janet offer to mentor her. If she's a mage I'll talk Old Scratch into teaching her and playing nice. Then we could get her on our side. By the time she's twenty-one she'll be a free woman, hopefully with a life and a job with us or someone we trust, and we can all celebrate by taking her out for her first official drink.”
“And how likely do you think that is?”
“It's Phoenix, if this doesn't blow up in our faces I'll have to pinch myself,” the hero said.
**
South Mountain, Phoenix, Arizona
Mid-Afternoon
Foot Long woke up to someone banging on his door. Wincing at the light coming in through the window, he grabbed his pistol, shoved it into his boxers, and went to the door. “Who is it?” he shouted.
“It's me, Clumsy. Open up man, got something to show ya.”
Opening the door, he went and grabbed two beers from his fridge. “What do you want, man? It's too early in the day to be awake.”
Taking the second beer, Clumsy pulled out his phone. “Like I said, I got something to show ya. You'll love this shit.”
“Damn well better,” he said.
Rubbing gunk out of his eyes, Foot Long saw the hero Jackalope shouting at some cute girl, who took off running only to fall on her ass a moment later. He smirked at the sight, he'd had something like that happen to him the last time he'd met the asshole, but at least his humiliation hadn't been recorded. “OK, some chick is getting humiliated, why do I have to watch it?” he asked, as the girl was pushed to the ground.
“Watch,” Clumsy said.
Seeing the girl turn into an armoured monster, covered in yellow lines, jolted him awake. “Shit! That's Forte! Damn did she get aw-” He shut up as her suit lit up, followed by Jackalope throwing up and collapsing to the ground.
“Holy shit. She wasn't fucking joking about how tough she is,” he said. A wave of relief swept over him that she hadn't taken his threats personally.
“She said one of her weapons is a boom- something. Makes people want to shit themselves and vomit. I want them,” Clumsy said. “If she isn't in jail tonight, give her a call and set something up.”
Foot Long nodded. “Are we going to need them soon?” he asked.
Clumsy gave one of his nasty little smiles that he only used when he had a really good plan. “Oh yeah. We're gonna make a whole lotta cash.”
**
East Tempe, Arizona
“Dae-Jung, come here,” Sun Hawk called.
The Mogollon Monster came out of their shared bedroom, with one of his graphic novels held in an enormous hand. “Shouldn't you have left for class, June?”
“Yeah, I'm late, but I've been looking over the email the boss sent and somethings bugging me,” she said, moving to the side so he could look at her laptop.
He knelt down and wrapped his arm around her, giving her an indecent squeeze as he looked at the screen. It was a close up of the new supervillains face. “What am I looking at?”
“Doesn't she look familiar to you?”
“Can't really say, all of you hairless, little apes look the same to me,” he said, grinning at her.
She flicked his ear. “I'm being serious here. I've seen that face somewhere, I'm sure of it.”
Studying the face more closely he still couldn't place it. “We were meeting and talking to hundreds of people last week with that stupid mall PR stunt. You're probably mistaking her for one of them.”
Frowning, she leaned back in her chair. “Maybe. But this is annoying me! And that PR stuff isn't stupid, it's a good way to meet and greet the public, let them know who we are and that we aren't scary. You even gained some fans.”
“Sure,” he said. “Now you're late for class, get going.”
“I'm not late, yet.” She closed down her laptop and went looking for her book bag. “I'll just have to fly to school. I can be there in no time.”
Mogollon looked upwards seeking strength. “Have you ever heard of a secret identity?”
“I'm openly dating you, honey,” she said. “To the assholes I'm already evil. It won't be much worse if they know I'm a mutant to. And if they try anything against me, I have a legitimate reason to kick their ass. Now while I'm gone, really think about that girl.” She saw him grin. “Not in that way! But I know I've seen her recently, so you probably did to.”
He opened the window so she could fly out. “I will think very hard about her and if anything pops up I'll let you know.”
“Thanks, I'll be back in time for supper,” she said, jumping out the window and flying off to the college.
“Now where was I?” he asked himself, heading back to the comfort of the king sized bed and his book.
**
Late Afternoon
Sitting alone at a table, sipping on some chocolate milk, Natalie was finally able to relax. It had been a few hours since her run-in with Jackalope and she was still nervous, but it was manageable now. She hadn't taken off her jacket, which was now covered in musical notes that had a silvery appearance, but she was no longer constantly looking over her shoulder.
She knew that going back to the hotel was the smart idea. Her suit was almost out of power, she had thousands of dollars worth of stolen money in her bag, and there was currently a manhunt searching for her. But she couldn't be sure that the police weren't there waiting for her. Even going into the cafe had been difficult. Only exhaustion and the risk of heat stroke if she kept wandering the streets had made her go inside.
The TV that was playing in the background caught her eye. A reporter was interviewing someone, while her fight with Jackalope played in the background. Taking her things she got closer to hear what they were saying about her.
“-mutant likely suffers from Diedrick's Syndrome. It's a common problem for those who have manifested, making them act irrationally and usually violently.”
“So this supervillain is a danger to the public?” the reporter asked.
“Most definitely. We saw that she was willing to use a dangerous weapon that affected onlookers without any care for their wellbeing. And over what? A few thousand dollars. Her suit is clearly developed for battle, if it wasn't for the warning that the Phoenix Warriors were on the way, it's reasonable to assume she would have done something truly violent,” the interviewee said.
The reporter nodded in agreement. “What about the mutants parents, do you believe they may be supporting her?”
“That is harder to say. Often mutants run away from home, not wanting to live under the restrictions of regular society. Other times the parents will believe that the world is out to get their child, and attempt to keep them hidden away from the MCO and the public,” he paused to let the audience absorb the news. “In this case I believe it's reasonable to assume she is a runaway, quite likely having injured or even murdered her parents in one of her rages.”
Natalie almost burst out laughing at that. Watching them talk about her, making so many assumptions about her life and how dangerous she was, with absolutely no facts was interesting, much like watching a car crash.
Returning to her seat, she thought about the interview.
She knew she was a supervillain. She wasn't going to lie to herself that she had no choice, or that she was doing it for the greater good. She wanted money and power. So ultimately what the so-called expert said didn't matter, neither did public perception. She wouldn't hurt anyone on a whim, she wasn't a monster, but she wouldn't flinch from it either. Today she had gotten lucky. Against a tougher superhero or one who wasn't nice enough to try to get her to surrender she would almost certainly have been knocked out and sent to prison. Any superhero she dealt with in the future would take the gloves off right away.
There was only one solution, she had to become stronger and better.
A grin slowly formed.
She had made mistakes today, but they allowed her to see her weak spots, and she had ultimately succeeded. Learning how to overcome her weaknesses was simply a matter of time and effort. It wouldn't be easy, but she would manage it just like she'd managed everything else. The world had already thrown the worst it possibly could at her, destroying her body and her dreams. So she'd made herself a new body, now all that was left was achieving her new dream.
“Watch out world,” Forte whispered, “I'm coming for you.”
Central Village, Phoenix, Arizona
October 20, 2016
Morning
“Remember I want the rent on the first of the month, no delays or you're out,” the man said, handing over the keys.
Taking them, Natalie nodded, forcing herself to smile as her new landlord left the old, decrepit home. She'd known that she was going to be starting from the very bottom, but she hadn't realized it would be quite so filthy. Unfortunately, even though she had enough money to rent or lease a better place, her fake ID wouldn't pass a basic check, and no one but a slumlord would rent their place to a seventeen-year-old with no obvious job.
“At least this place isn't falling apart,” she told herself. A few of the potential rentals she'd checked out had rotting floors, broken plumbing, and doors that wouldn't keep out a slight breeze. This place was just filthy and old, she could work with that. She already had plans for turning the single bedroom in the back of the house into her workshop, she could sleep in the living room. It would take a few days to secure it, but with no one watching her and room to actually do things, her devises would do all of that nicely.
The cement floor sucked. Trying to move on them without her legs would hurt. Sighing she put throw rugs on her mental shopping list. More money she couldn't use for her workshop. Going into the space that was laughingly called a kitchen she took a look around. It was missing the stove, but at least there was a sink, and a cheap, apparently new mini-fridge. The walls and cupboards were covered in a layer of a grease and grime.
Cringing, she took off the cotton glove covering her cybernetic right hand, and opened a cupboard. The metal prosthetic couldn't get infected by anything she touched, and she didn't have to feel the slimy scum on the wood. She recoiled at the smell of mold and filth that erupted from the fridge. Roaches skittered under rotting debris and ancient food containers, while a cloud of flies flew out in a swarm that briefly surrounded her head.
Slamming it shut, she ran to the sink to scrub her hand clean. There was no way she'd be able to clean everything to a standard she'd be willing to live with, in just a few days, maybe a month or two would do it. And she didn't have the time, she had to be at a business meeting that afternoon and then she had to set up her workshop.
Sighing, she grabbed her phone, did a quick search and dialed a number. She had the money, she might as well use it. “Hi, I need a crew to take away everything in my house and then deep clean it. I need it today and money is not a problem.”
South Mountain, Phoenix
Mid-Afternoon
Forte took a moment to look at the restaurant, it wasn't the worst one in the neighbourhood, but it was far from the best. It only had a few small windows and one public entrance, if things went wrong it would be hard to get out of. Fixing her leather jacket, which looked nice and light, but actually weighed several pounds, she headed inside.
Clumsy and Foot Long waved her over as soon as the door closed. Smiling, she walked confidently up to the two gangsters, took her backpack off and grabbed a seat. “So you liked my devise?” she asked.
“It's good,” Clumsy said. “That was you the other day, fighting Jackalope?”
She nodded, not sure what to say about it. She'd won the fight, if it could really be called that, but she hadn't done anything impressive except get knocked on her ass twice and then set off a sonic weapon which let her run away.
Clumsy watched her closely, “I thought you were a weapons dealer, why the hell are you robbing banks?"
“Setting up a workshop costs money and a girl’s gotta eat,” she said.
“Why didn't you go in and take all the money, like a real supervillain? Handing over a note like that is for pussies,” Foot Long said.
She raised her eyebrow and looked at him like he was an idiot. “Right. I do that and I'd have the Phoenix Warriors come running and every cop and part time hero would be on my ass. If it wasn't for some bad luck, they wouldn't even know Forte exists. As it is, they still know almost nothing about me, and I don't plan on making any more public appearances for a while. Despite my name, I'd prefer to keep things quiet and live a nice, long life making lots of money, not fighting superheroes every week or trying to break out of jail. Any other stupid questions?”
For the first time, she saw Clumsy smile. “The weapon you used, you're selling it?”
“Yeah, the Boomer does something similar. Everyone within ten feet gets sick and wants to vomit, they’ll recover in a few minutes. It's a one-shot, but like I said last time, if you can give it back to me after using it, I can repair it for a small fee,” she said, hoping to sweeten the deal.
“What about the other weapon you're selling?”
“The Shriek. It's noisier, it will pop eardrums and stun everyone nearby when it goes off. It also leaves the person suffering from a very bad headache for a few hours. Good for when you want to make a demonstration, or need someone down for a while. Same deal as the Boomer, one shot, but I can fix it afterwards.”
“What if we throw them into a room while we're in the hallway?” he asked.
“You'll be fine,” she assured him. “At worst with the Boomer, you'll feel like you have butterflies. With the Shriek your ears will ring a bit. It wouldn't be a good weapon if it took you out when you used it.”
Clumsy sipped his drink for a few minutes thinking things over. “How much for all of them, today?”
“You don't want to test them first?” she asked.
Clumsy shook his head. “I need all of them, and I saw your work on the news. So I'm trusting you, don't let me down.”
Forte smiled. “You're in luck, I've got my whole supply with me, and they're just waiting to be used.”
Central Village, Phoenix
Evening
Natalie grabbed her many bags from the back of the Uber. Flush with cash not only from selling her weapons, but with several thousand still left over from her bank jobs, she'd done a fair bit of shopping. Most of it would be delivered on Monday, but there were few essentials she couldn't do without, a cot and sleeping bag, some new clothes, more chemicals, and two things to make her life easier.
The cleaning crew was still there, just finishing up from the looks of it. The cupboards were wide open, airing out and smelling strongly of cleaner. She could actually see the paint on the walls, now that the grime was gone. The cement floor was as good as it was going to get. Going to the bathroom she whistled in appreciation. Somehow they had made it sparkle.
Walking the six person cleaning crew out to their van, Natalie thanked them profusely and handed each of them a hundred dollar tip. Sure it would look suspicious, but they'd somehow made the place livable, for that they deserved the extra money.
With the place to herself it was time to improve the security.
Pulling out her new tool set, she replaced the locks on the front and back door with top of the line electronic locks, and added two bolts at the top and bottom of the doors. The windows had rusty bars covering them, they weren't very good, but would do until she could improve them. Still she put her alarm devise on both doors and the bedroom window. If they were dislodged they'd shriek, hurting the intruder and warning her.
Closing the curtains, she took off her gloves, shoes, pants and shirt. Standing in her underwear in the middle of the living room, she whistled a complicated tune, the yellow lines along her prosthetic legs and right arm lit up and began to whine.
She'd discovered while working on a last ditch sonic weapon for her new arm and legs, that a certain frequency could make bugs flee the area. She used it now. The high pitched whine was barely audible, that just made it worse, causing her heart to beat faster, as it set her nerves on edge. It was like listening to dozens of mosquitoes buzzing beside her ear at night. She watched the roaches and other things that had survived the deep cleaning run for cracks in the walls and floor, seeking an escape. Slowly she walked around the room, touching the wall so the bugs had nowhere to hide from the noise. After ten minutes, she went to the kitchen and did the same thing, opening the cupboards to ensure everything would leave.
Half an hour later she was certain that her new home was pest free.
Setting up her cot, she left her clothes and everything else in their bags. Unpacking could wait for the morning, she was sweaty and tired after her long day.
Taking two bags she went to the bathroom. First she changed the shower head to a special handheld sprayer, then she set up a transfer bench, that sat halfways in the tub, to make it easier for her to use the shower. Getting her shower supplies and her Sleeper gun, Natalie buckled herself into the transfer seat, took off her prosthetics, then slid the seat into the tub. Closing the curtains she grabbed the sprayer and had her first really good shower in over a week.
Alahambra, Phoenix
Midnight
Foot Long drove the stolen car down the street, trying to look calm. “You remember the plan?” he asked his crew.
“Yeah, you stop the car, Baby gets the door open and throws the grenade in. Then we rush in throw our grenades, and go fuck them up while the others grab the goodies,” Tweak said. “Don't worry man, this'll be easy. We got stuff that can take superheroes down. We are the shit!”
The rest of them shouted and hollered in agreement, psyching themselves up. They'd never done anything like this before. The Mountain Boys were drug dealers and had a nice little protection racket going in their neighbourhood. The worst they'd ever done was robbery, carjacking, and breaking some bones when someone tried to deal in their territory or wouldn't cough up the money after being asked politely. But having a supervillain supplying them with super weapons had them feeling powerful, and like his friends, Foot Long wanted to move up in the world.
They came to stop a few houses down from the trap house. Baby, the newest member got out and walked up to the rundown bungalow. Once he was close to the door, the rest of them got out and trying to stick to the shadows followed him. Down the street he saw the rest of the gang doing the same.
They watched as Baby knocked on the door, which opened slightly. As planned, Baby threw his devise inside and bolted.
Foot Long and his crew started running for the house. There was a single gunshot, and then it felt like his guts were rumbling. The door opened up as the shooter fell to the ground, noisily vomiting.
Jumping over the drug dealer, Foot Long threw his own devise into the hallway, and drew his gun. Another devise was thrown into the kitchen. Waves of nausea made him gag, but it only lasted a few seconds and he sucked it up. Going deeper into the house, he saw that everyone was down, vomiting and crapping themselves. One of them tried to reach for his gun, he kicked him in the head, taking the gun for himself. He heard the rest of his crew going through the small house, punching and kicking the people they found, and grabbing their weapons.
The second group, led by Clumsy, came rushing in. They immediately began ransacking the place, grabbing money, drugs, and guns.
“Stay the fuck down!” he shouted at a big guy who was trying to stand up. The man ignored him managing to get to his knees, drooling heavily and looking greenish. Stepping forward to kick him, Foot Long accidentally squeezed the trigger. The man glared at him for a moment and then fell to the floor, moaning in pain as he died in a slowly growing puddle of blood.
“What the hell are you doing!” Clumsy shouted. “You weren't supposed to kill anyone!”
“I-I-” he tried to say.
“Fuck!” Clumsy roared. “Everyone grab what you can and get the fuck out!”
Just then Baby came into the house, clutching his stomach. “Hey guys. I think I need help.”
Running over to him, Clumsy swore again. Blood was trickling from his fingers.
“Foot Long get over here!” the gang leader shouted. “You get your guys and drop him off at the hospital. Just dump him, then lose the car and lay low for a while.”
Nodding, he put an arm around Baby and headed for the car. “Everyone we're outta here.”
A minute later they were out and driving away.
Central Village, Phoenix
October 21st
Morning
Opening her fifth roll of aluminum foil, Natalie began tearing it into thin strips, carefully placing them in a noxious concoction of bleach, mercury, three rolls of pennies, and a dozen other chemicals that were held in a large soup pot. Even with her painters mask, the open window, and several fans, the fumes were hard to take. A dome of silence kept outside noise from interfering with her work. Around the pot, she had placed portable speakers playing an odd humming sound that changed its pitch and speed every two minutes. For most people it would be annoying, she was used to it, listening to make sure the speakers weren't distorting the sounds.
Once that was done, she put the lid on, secured the edges with duct tape and left her simple workshop, which would normally be a bedroom, firmly closing the door behind her. In a week the starter for her new and improved sonic metal would be ready to go. Once that was done simply keeping it fed with aluminum, would provide her the material to create at least a pound of sonic metal a month. She'd need more of course, but she was starting small and this was only a temporary place. Within a month or two she'd have the resources to create a more permanent workshop, and trying to move too many odd or fragile things could draw attention to her that she'd rather avoid.
“This is just like music, it takes time and a hell of a lot of effort,” she told herself.
Taking a seat on the floor, she mumbled a light curse that all of her furniture would be delivered on Monday, while putting in her earbuds. Various wires, speakers, batteries, and electric motors were spread out on a set of place mats around her. Picking up a screwdriver, she began humming along to the music, focusing her mind entirely on the project at hand. Taking apart the first speaker, music filled her mind, the notes telling her fingers what to do.
Phoenix Warrior HQ
Early Afternoon
Sun Hawk tried to hide a yawn. She'd been up half the night doing patrols, followed by reading a physics paper she had to write a report on. Even though she was a part time student, finding time for her job and her studies wasn't easy. And now instead of sleeping, she was in the conference room with every other Warrior who wasn't on patrol.
She sat at the back beside Mogollon, where he wouldn't block anyones view, discretely holding his hand. Old Scratch was seemingly dozing in the corner, his old fashion derby hat covering his sharp features. Desert Rat sat with his feet on the chair munching on pork rinds, his beady eyes constantly scanning the room. Shadow leaned against the wall at the back, his face flickering seemingly at random, each time looking like someone else. When her own face appeared on his body, she shuddered and quickly looked away. Finally Magma Man sat at attention, waiting to hear what was going on. Lolomi was at his usual spot at the front of the room, looking more serious than usual, but Janet was taking the place of honour.
The gadgeteer/devisor, who looked like a fantasy dwarf wearing red coveralls, took a second to collect herself. “Thanks for coming everyone, we've got some potentially very important news about the teen bank robber. Last night a trap house was robbed, likely by a rival gang, and a member of the 17th Disciples was murdered.”
That didn't elicit much reaction. While most gangs kept their disputes to beatings and threats, murders did happen. As long as they didn't involve civilians, or start a gang war, that kind of thing was mostly left to the police.
“The police arrived quickly enough that most of the witnesses were still there. When questioned, the ones willing to speak all said they were hit with a feeling of intense nausea, making most of them throw up and even lose control of their bowels,” she said.
Everyone was listening now, even Old Scratch stopped pretending to be asleep.
Janet smirked. “I thought that would get your attention. An odd device was found at the scene. One witness who was able to remember the details, claims it was thrown into the house by the attackers.” The wall flickered showing a gray plastic ball, along with a detailed blueprint of its insides.. “It was made using parts from a computer speaker, and the speaker itself is blown. I made an exact replica, right down to the brand of speakers, nothing happened. It's a dud.”
“So it's a devise,” Magma Man said.
“That's my best guess,” she said. “I did a search for any recent crimes that would fit a devisor or gadgeteers MO, and what do you know, last Sunday Phoenix College was robbed.”
The wall behind her flickered, a video began to play showing a young woman with black hair walking down a deserted hallway closely looking at the doors and classrooms. The camera changed, and the girl was now standing at the end of the hallway, she raised her arm and the image turned to black.
“By the time campus security realized there was a problem, the suspect had broken into the chemical supply room, punching through the lock by an unknown means, stolen several containers of dangerous and restricted chemicals, and left the campus. There is video of her leaving with a heavy backpack,” Janet said.
“She wasn't holding anything in her hand,” Old Scratch said. “How did she break the cameras?”
Lolomi spoke for the first time. “We don't know. It could be a mutant power, magic, a devise attached to her outfit, or something else. While we are now fairly certain we are dealing with a devisor, we don't know if she is one.”
“You're thinking she could be a minion?” the Mogollon Monster asked.
“Partner, minion, test subject, or she's the actual devisor, I don't want to make a guess just yet. If we choose the wrong one, it leaves us open to a nasty surprise.”
Sun Hawk leaned forward in her chair, studying the girl. “Why is she wearing gloves? Every time we've seen her she has on a pair of gloves. If she wants to hide her prints why not just use some crazy glue or the new invisi-gloves? They make her stick out.”
Janet answered that one. “She could be hiding GSD, it might be to cover a skintight metal suit, they could be enchanted to help her summon the suit, or it may just be a fashion statement. We won't know until we can capture her or at least see her in action again.”
“It's now very important that we catch her,” Lolomi said. “If she or the person she works with is selling devises to criminals, it could upset the balance of power among the gangs and cartels. We do not want a gang war.”
Sitting back, Sun Hawk couldn't stop looking at the girl and her gloves. Something was niggling at her brain, telling her she was missing something important. As the discussion continued, she couldn't help but wonder why she was certain she'd seen the girl.
Central Village, Phoenix
October 22nd
Mid-Morning
Sitting on her just delivered couch, which was big enough to be a comfortable bed until she got something better, Natalie stared numbly at her new laptop.
She'd just finished watching a news conference where the Phoenix Warriors had taken centre stage, and her face was plastered on the screen. It wasn't immediately obvious that it was her, the makeup and wig helped a little, but anyone who got a close look at her would spot the similarities.
That wasn't the worst of it. She skipped back to near the beginning of the video and pressed play. “The suspect is wanted for questioning in connection to the murder on Saturday of Jonathon Washington. A devise that resembles the sonic weapon she used during her bank robbery was found at the murder scene.”
Pausing the video, she looked at the photo of Jonathon. It was a mug shot, but that didn't matter, her devise had been used to help kill a person.
“I'm a supervillain, I knew this was going to happen,” she told herself.
The words rang hollow in her ears.
“What else am I supposed to do?” she asked. “I didn't want to do this, I wanted to be a musician. I was going to be a musician.”
And now she was a murderer, even if she hadn't pulled the trigger, she'd given criminals the weapons, knowing they would use them to commit crime. She whistled. Her right arm hissed and hung limp, the glowing lines fading to a dull gold. She wrenched it out of her sleeve and threw it to the ground.
Taking the empty sleeve in her hand, she waved it in the air, showing it to an invisible jury. “How am I supposed to play like this? They don't make anything that could replace my hand. Even I can't make one good enough.
“And my legs. Do I want to be helpless again? Carried like a baby?! Do I just throw them away too?”
She didn't realize tears were rolling down her cheeks.
“I had a future. I had a good future. I had the talent, the drive, the will. I did everything right and worked my ass off for it. And for what?” she demanded. “It was taken from me, and I never did anything wrong. Why shouldn't I take what I want? Everyone else does. At least I'm honest about it.”
The doorbell rang.
Wiping her eyes, surprised when her sleeve came back wet, her eyes fell on her arm that lay on the floor. There wasn't time to put it back on, cursing she shoved it behind the couch. Going to the door, she looked through the peep hole and saw a man with a large box behind him. She started to reach for the door knob with her right hand and cursed again as nothing happened.
Opening the door properly, she did her best to smile.
“Hi, I've got a fridge for a Melody Smith,” the delivery man said.
“That's me, come on in,” she said, stepping aside.
He wheeled it in, following her to the kitchen. His eyes went to her empty sleeve, before quickly looking away. As he set it up for her, she kept noticing him glancing at where her arm should be. By the time he was done, she was standing almost sideways, hiding her right side from him.
Walking him to the door, she said, as cheerfully as possible, “Thanks for the help,” and handed him a twenty.
“Yeah, no problem,” he replied. His eyes once more went to her sleeve, it looked like he was about to say something, but he stopped, looking at her with pity before turning away.
Resisting the urge to slam the door, Natalie closed it, then went to retrieve her arm.
Putting it back on, she glared at the empty room. “I did things the right way, and you took everything away from me, turning me into a pitiful, limbless freak. I don't care what I have to do, I am not going back to that!”
South Mountain, Phoenix
Bennie's Bar
Evening
Foot Long looked up from his burger as Clumsy sat down. He watched in silence while the Dome of Silence was discretely turned on.
“Any problems with Baby?” Clumsy asked.
“Not a one,” he replied. “He was able to walk when we dropped him at the ER. He's going to tell them he was just walking along when a stray shot hit him. Some passersby he doesn't know picked him up and drove him to the hospital.” It was a common story. The police would know it was a lie, but with no one to say differently, they had nothing on Baby.
“We're gonna have to give him a new name. He's not a baby anymore.”
He nodded in agreement, they'd think of something good once the kid was out of the hospital. “How'd we do?”
“Even with your fuck up, we got about 30k in cash, around 70 or 80k in drugs, and Tweak knows some guys looking to buy a few pieces. Not as good as I thought, but still a good haul,” Clumsy said, raising his beer in a toast.
“Damn, we did good!” Then he got a bit nervous. “Any chance that this could blow back on us?”
“Nah, those guys are weak ass pussies, and no one else will care. They can't cover what they lost, it's their asses, not ours.” Sliding over thick roll of cash, a small baggie was stuck in the middle of it. Clumsy gave him a smile. “Here's the first part of your cut.”
Seeing the goods, Foot Long broke into a grin, all his concerns forgotten.
Desert View, Phoenix
Late Evening
Alastair heard the garage door open, it was about time, he'd been expecting his guest an hour ago. Taking a glass and a bottle of red wine from his bar, he went to his special meeting room in the basement. Unlike the rest of his house which was filled with exquisite furniture and art, this room was almost bare, except for a single, comfortable plastic chair sitting beside a metal table. The white-tiled walls and floor were extremely easy to clean thanks to the drain in the center of the room, the faint smell of bleach added to the surgical atmosphere. Having the doorway covered in mystical runes that allowed only a few key people to even notice the room was an added bonus.
Taking a seat, he poured himself a glass of wine, then ran his hand over his thick red hair, making sure it was nice and neat, and straightened his tie. Appearances were important, especially when meeting someone for the first time, the wrong impression could ruin everything.
His men entered the room without knocking, carrying his guest between them. The skinny little man didn't look like much. That wasn't surprising considering he wasn't anything much. The sallow skin, gaunt appearance, open sores on his face and his rotten teeth told Alastair everything he needed about his guest. Hopefully his brain still worked.
“Good evening Mr. Gustav, or would you prefer I call you Joseph?” he asked.
“I don't know nothing, and I ain't gonna say nothing. Now let me go,” the addict said.
Alastair allowed himself a small frown, bad manners were the bane of society. Lifting a finger, his men quickly left, locking the door behind them. Taking a sip of his wine, he watched his guest, much like a young boy would study a slug.
“Joseph, you were at the drug house that was attacked on Saturday night, is that correct?” he asked.
“Fuck you.”
Placing his wine glass on the table, he rose to his feet, towering over the addict who scurried away from him. The man didn't have anywhere to go, and Alastair forced him into a corner simply through his size and presence. Grabbing a skeletal forearm, he squeezed his thumb and forefinger together, turning flesh and bone into a messy pulp.
Returning to his chair, he sniffed the blood and bits of flesh on his fingers and scowled in disgust, wiping it off with a silk handkerchief from his pocket. “You aren't even good enough to become a snack,” he said, watching the writhing man scream in pain.
The show went on for several minutes, as he slowly sipped his wine and poured himself a second glass. He didn't mind the wait, he tried to keep his evenings free as a matter of habit, and had ensured that nothing would interrupt this special affair. Finally the addict was simply moaning and sobbing, clutching his arm protectively.
“Are you ready to answer now, Joseph?” he asked.
“I was there,” came the answer, barely understandable through the sobs of pain.
“Very good,” Alastair said. “When the men attacked, they used a strange weapon, what did it feel like?”
“It was like a drum was beating in my stomach. Really loud, shook my guts,” he said. “Made me shit myself. Felt bad, really bad and then it went away, but I still wanted to puke and shit.”
He had thought the heroes were telling the truth about the criminal devisor. Now the question was what were her plans? If she was just a regular supervillain, the Cano family could ignore her, or possibly hire her for their own uses. But if she was looking to create her own organization and claim territory, or side with another cartel, she would have to be dealt with.
Of course if she was a powerful devisor, even if she joined the Cano's, she could be a danger to his position. He would have to think about this very carefully.
“Now Joseph, this is very important, I was also told you know one of the attackers. Who is he and where can I find him?”
The addict looked at him nervously, whatever was left of his brain furiously thinking. “Let me go and I'll tell you.”
Once more rising to this feet, Alastair smiled. “I was hoping you would say that.”
Stepping into the centre of the room, the air began to shimmer, gaining colour and weight. It swirled around him, forming a massive, hulking body. After a moment, a naked, sexless giant with wild red hair and a mouth far too wide for its head was looking down at the cowering, pitiful man.
“When you want the pain to stop, tell me what I want to know,” The Cannibal said.
South Mountain, Phoenix
October 24th
Night
Foot Long sat on the curb, drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette, listening to his friends joke and talk. Everyone was in a good mood, they had more money than they knew what to do with, and they'd heard that Baby was going to be OK. So it had been a night of beer and strippers. They were taking a break before heading to another place to hook up with some hotties, and everything was right with the world.
“Hey when are we going to do another hit? There's this sweet ass ride I've been looking at, an old '84 Mustang, all fixed up, new engine, and one hell of a nice paint job,” Tweak said.
“Stop dreaming, all of that cash is going straight in a vein and up your nose,” Foot Long said.
“Well, some of it, yeah. But I've been keeping some off to the side, decided I should start saving some.”
Some of the others overheard their conversation. “Looks like we've got us an investor here. Gonna start wearing a suit and trading on the stocks soon, rich man!”
The rest joined in and for the next few minutes insults and rich jokes ran wild.
When they got bored of it, Tweak looked down at Foot Long. “So when are we gonna do something.”
“Clumsy and I are looking at some places. We got more heat than we wanted, so we're just scouting things out for now,” he said. “We've told a few others about Forte. So if we keep things cool for a month or two, the capes won't have such a hard-on when they hear about her stuff being used. And she said she'll have some really cool shit ready to go in a few weeks, now that she's got a lab going.”
“Like what, laser beams and jet packs?”
“Nah, dumb ass. She does her thing with sounds. She's got a piece that puts people to sleep, almost totally silent, point, shoot and boom, they pass out.” He saw that his buddy wasn't impressed by that. “Think about it. See someone you don't like driving a car, you hit em with it, they crash and no one can say you did anything. Or you wanna rob em, you shoot em, grab their stuff and you're gone, no risk. Or a cop or cape is giving you a hard time, you use it, and they go down. But if they come after you later, you didn't do nothing, you were just standing there and they fell over. Didn't even kick em when they were down, you're totally innocent.”
“Oh yeah,” Tweak said, his eyes widening as understanding blossomed.
“Another one we want is a wall buster. You stick it to a wall, and it makes it crumble. We're thinking of getting the first few of those and going after some jewelry stores. My sister knows a guy who buys diamonds. Doesn't care how hot they are.”
Finishing the last of his beer, Foot Long got to his feet. “Things are looking up for the Mountain Boys! Let's get back to the party!”
A giant figure stomped out of an alley. In the darkness all Foot Long could make out was the outline of a twelve-foot-tall monster, who was at least eight feet wide, with a mass of tangled hair. That was all he needed to see to realize that he and everyone around him were probably already dead. Everyone in Phoenix knew what The Cannibal looked like and what happened when he appeared.
The gang fled. They didn't run as a group, or help each other escape, it was a mad dash, every man for himself as terror took over.
Foot Long didn't make it far before he was scooped up in an enormous hand. The grip threatened to break his ribs, he could barely breathe, and with his arms trapped he couldn't even try to beat at the hand. Then he and The Cannibal were in the air, arcing through the sky to land on a nearby roof, where he was dropped, landing in a painful sprawl.
“I want to meet your devisor,” The Cannibal said, in a barely human growl.
“OK! I'LL CALL HER! I HAVE HER NUMBER RIGHT HERE!” Foot Long said, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
“No. I want it to be a surprise. Have her go to Goodman's Junkyard, make sure she's alone.”
Foot Long nodded. “Goodman's Junkyard. Alone. Got it. I'll make sure she goes there.”
“I'll be in touch with you tomorrow. If you don't have it set up by then, I will have a talk with you and your gang.” The way The Cannibal licked his lips left no room for doubt about what would happen.
The monster left the roof by the simple expedient of jumping, leaving Foot Long shaking in a puddle of urine.
Central Village, Phoenix
October 25th
Noon
A complicated harmony of sounds came from the speakers that surrounded a thick bracelet. Natalie tapped away at her laptop, altering certain notes, pitches and frequencies, trying to find the perfect mix. She'd been fine-tuning it all morning, after getting the basics prepared the day before, and she could tell she was almost there.
Making one last change she turned all her attention to one of her earliest examples of sonic metal. The bracelet began to vibrate and slowly lost its form, turning into a semi-liquid puddle. She hit a button and the speakers played a different, much deeper but simpler hum. she quickly added the specially treated copper wires, which made her sonic metal truly useful. It took several minutes for the two to bond with the aid of the binding acoustics. The wires turned golden and began to glow so brightly Natalie had to put on sunglasses to look at them directly.
Once the glow faded to a faint yellow, she shut off the program, added two more speakers to the ones already hooked up to her laptop, and started a new program. This one was an ear rending mix of different frequencies, pitches, whines and hums, that would be sheer mind numbing noise to anyone that heard it. She on the other hand listened carefully, doing her best to ensure nothing was out of tune.
The pool of sonic metal bubbled and oozed. Slowly it began to form a rectangle, about the size of her hand. Two small prongs jutted from one end. Taking two jumper cables that were already attached to a car battery, she placed them on the prongs, jumping a little as sparks flew up. The faintly glowing lines in the sonic metal began to glow more brightly. They were a bit brighter than she'd expected, but nothing set off any alarm bells in her mind. She sat back, grinning with delight.
The biggest problem with her sonic metal was powering it. Even with her cybernetics, anything beyond regular daily use would leave them drained fairly quickly. Now she had a battery that would be easy to carry and conceal, and would fit any of her cybernetics or armour. Once she had her first batch of improved sonic metal ready, she could make several more of them. Then when she made her new arm and legs, she could place slots in them, allowing her to store one in her arm and three in each leg to power her cybernetics or her armour.
She wanted to squeal with joy, but stayed silent so as not to disrupt the process.
Double checking the Dome of Silence ensuring no outside noise would damage her work, Natalie quietly left her workshop, hoping her growling stomach wasn't too loud, she'd forgotten to eat breakfast and was starving.
Throwing some leftover pizza in the microwave, she turned on her stereo and checked her phones. First her usual one that was under her name and useful for her civilian life, there was nothing but some follow up emails asking for reviews on the things she had bought during her shopping spree. It was about what she'd expected, her old life, friends and family had basically gone up in flames, which was one reason she was now living in Phoenix.
Her burner phone on the other hand was more interesting, with a message from Clumsy asking to call him right away. She was tempted to, but the smell of food was too enticing.
Eating pizza on the couch, listening to Benny Goodman, in the comfort of her own place, nice soft rugs on the floor, with two hands and her legs stretched out, while her devises were being created in the next room, and a bag of money stashed inside the wall, she felt at home and happy for the first time in far too long. While she would prefer to be in a mansion with a handsome guy at her side, eating pizza made by her personal chef, being served on a silver platter by yet another handsome man, she was willing to take what she could get. She couldn't be too greedy after all.
At least not yet.
Once lunch was done, she turned down the music and phoned Clumsy. He picked up the phone on the first ring.
“Hello?” he said.
“Hey Clumsy, this is Forte. What can I do for you?” she asked.
“I want the greatest sound system for my car that money can buy,” he said, not wasting time with small talk.
She raised an eyebrow at that, it definitely wasn't what she'd expected. Taking a moment to consider it, she shook her head, it could be an interesting job, but she didn't want to become known as the stereo repair villain. “That's not really my thing.”
“I thought you might say that, and I don't mean any disrespect, but I really do want the best sound system in Phoenix. I'm talking about subs and amps that will make the street shake, speakers that I can hear from across the neighbourhood, one of your domes of silence built in so when I need to I can be totally silent, the works. I know you devisors like to make all kinds of cool things, and I am willing to pay for anything you need, just as long as it works when you're done.”
The job suddenly sounded a lot more interesting. She'd been so focused on her prosthetics, and creating weapons, that she'd completely ignored what she could do to a stereo. Ideas started rising up in her mind. She squashed them down, forcing herself to focus on the moment. “I'm a little more interested, but I've still got a lot of things to do and this would be a big job.”
“I understand I'm asking you for something big, but I think I know what will get you really interested,” Clumsy said. Then he gave her a number.
Natalie blinked in shock, finding herself speechless for several seconds. “You'd pay that much?!”
“Damn right I would. No one else will have anything like it. For that kind of thing, money is not a problem,” he said.
“I can start Sunday. Where do you want to meet?”
“Goodman's Junkyard. It's out of the way, has a nice little garage to work in, and the owner owes me a favour. No one will bother you.”
“All right, I can be there at about one to look it over and come up with some ideas. See you then.”
Hanging up, she fell back onto the couch, kicking her feet and cheering with delight. Becoming a supervillain was turning out to be the best decision of her life.
Goodman's Junkyard, Phoenix
October 27th
Early Afternoon
Even with the garage door open and a fan going at full power it was hot in the small building. Despite her worries, Forte had taken off her jacket and changed her clothes. Wearing just a pair of shorts and a light t-shirt, her cybernetics were clearly visible and she felt over-exposed, but it was better than drowning in sweat. Working in the place during the summer would be hellish.
Despite the heat she was still smiling. She'd finished her sonic metal starter and fed it the first batch of tinfoil, which had begun to liquefy almost immediately. She'd gotten a call from a potential client and set up a meeting for Friday. And this job, which would fund her for a whole month was looking more and more interesting.
She'd already removed the speakers from the car, and was making a rough picture of the interior, trying to work out the best places to add extra speakers, subwoofers, amplifiers and a few completely new ideas that would blow anything on the market, completely out of the water. She just had to make sure her plans would look good. The practically new BMW was really nice looking, and she was going to make sure Clumsy got his money worth.
Taking a seat behind the steering wheel, she let herself imagine it was her car and the music from her earbuds was coming from the car stereo. She'd want to do some more modifications of course. With a bit of planning she could improve the engine, making it so silent, you wouldn't even know it was on. Sonic metal in the seat that would shift to provide the perfect support. She might even be able to make a forcefield for it, she had the plans for a sonic field that would stop bullets, but powering it was almost impossible.
Adjusting the rear view mirror to see how she looked sitting in the driver seat, she saw a person jogging past the door.
“Who could that be?” she asked herself, turning off her music. The only people she'd seen at the junkyard had been an old guy dozing near the gate, Clumsy and Foot Long, and those two had taken off an hour ago.
She was struck by indecision. If she got out of the car, her cybernetics would be seen and it would be easy to guess that she was the wanted criminal. But staying in the car would make her a sitting duck if the person wasn't just an employee or someone looking for a car part.
“Screw it,” she said. There was no way she was going to let fear control her. Getting out of the car, Forte walked towards the open door to see what was going on.
Someone just outside muttered something.
With her nerves already on edge, Forte ran for her jacket. She didn't know what was going on, but if she had to fight, she wanted her armour.
“Go!”
Shots echoed in the garage, at least one bullet came so close, she heard it crack past her ear. Diving for the floor, Forte covered her head with her right arm, and tried to hide behind her metal legs. The shooting seemed to go on forever, filling the garage with dust and smoke.
The second it stopped she lunged to her feet, staying as low as possible, trying to put the car between her and the gunmen. Her legs were sluggish, not moving with their usual grace. She didn't have time to see what the problem was, they worked well enough to let her scramble for cover, that was all that mattered.
People were shouting, she couldn't make out what they were saying over the ringing in her ears. There was another shot and once more Forte hit the ground, this time behind the car. The gunmen opened fire, filling the room with sparks and ricocheting bullets. Whistling, her fingers turned into claws and two-inch-long talons tore apart her shoes.
Glancing at her legs, there were several dents in the sonic metal, marring the yellow patterns. Her right arm had a similar dent on the bicep. Panic started to overwhelm her, she had been less than an inch from getting killed, and the gunmen were still shooting.
She allowed herself a single deep breath, forcing the panic down.
Getting into a runners crouch, she softly whistled and her legs began to glow more brightly. The second the shooting stopped, she leapt for her coat, moving as fast as an Olympic sprinter. Slamming painfully into the wall, she ripped her coat from it's hook, placed her foot against the wall and threw herself back behind the car.
There was more shouting from outside, she ignored it, focused solely on putting her coat on. Then she whistled and the sonic metal flowed over her. Flexible, segmented plates covered her torso, a short skirt of armour flowed over her pelvis and upper thighs, her left arm was covered in metal ending in a clawed gauntlet. A featureless mask with eye and nose slots protected her head. This was the older, basic armour she'd shown to Foot Long, there were no whip-like fingers and no hidden devises inside. But it was thicker and able to take a hit, time to see if it really was bulletproof.
The gunmen began shooting again, but this time bullets tore through the left wall, hitting her armour. When she didn't die, Forte began to laugh hysterically. Getting to her feet she raced for the exit, still laughing.
Two of the gunmen fired straight into her chest. She jumped at the nearest one, her legs whining, their batteries draining at an alarming speed. Hitting him in the chest, something inside of him crunched from the impact. Gripping his face, her right hand thrummed and the groaning man fell unconscious.
“Shit! I need help!” the second gunman shouted.
Forte ran at him, relying on speed and brutality over skill. He tried to shoot, only to be met with a click as he ran out of bullets. Her claws tore into his leg, making him drop and shriek in pain. Again her hand reached out, putting him to sleep.
Three gunmen, she hoped that was the last of them, came from the side of the building. Breathing hard, She used most of the remaining power in her legs to jump straight at them. Lashing out with claws and talons. The first man went down, clutching his stomach. The second one shoved a pistol into her side and began firing. Her talons shredded his face, while her devise knocked him out. The third tried to run. Grabbing a pistol from the ground, Forte paused to increase the strength and dexterity of her arm, then threw the pistol like a baseball, catching him in the back. He fell screaming, rolling on the ground clutching his side.
Falling to her knees, drained of all energy, Forte tried to comprehend what had just happened. She wanted to vomit, she wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, most of all she wanted to wake up from the nightmare.
Her body began to ache, every breath was agonizing.
Someone was clapping.
She looked up, and up, into the terrifying face of The Cannibal.
'I'm going to die,' she thought.
“Very good, Forte,” the monster said, somehow making its growl sound cheerful. “I really thought they would kill you.”
Forte didn't know what to say. She didn't have enough power in her legs to run away. She didn't have a chance against him in a fight, and she doubted she could put him to sleep. She was going to die and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. She was just as helpless as she had been a year and a half ago. Behind her mask, tears began to fall.
The Cannibal leaned down, looming over her like she was a bug. “Since you aren't dead, I have some questions for you. First, why are you in Phoenix?”
Old habits kicked in, jump-starting her numbed and terror-stricken brain. “Selling weapons, sir,” she answered in a whisper, as if she were a young child talking to a scary teacher.
His eyes widened a little, his lips almost seemed to curve upwards a hair. “Who are you working with?”
“No one, sir,” she answered.
“You just came to Phoenix and started selling weapons to a random street gang to make money?”
“Yes, sir.”
The monster began to chuckle, it quickly turned to laughter, a deep belly laugh that nearly knocked Forte over. She clutched her ears as the booming noise threatened to overwhelm her. Slowly the laughing stopped.
Looking back up at The Cannibal, she wondered what he would do next.
He stared down at her, his grotesque face looked curious. “You'll probably end up dead or enslaved, but if you survive, the Cano family may have some business with you in the future. Remember this moment, and think very carefully on it when naming a price.” He walked away, leaving his fallen men and Forte in the junkyard like so much garbage.
When he was out of sight, Forte struggled to her feet and headed into the bullet-riddled building to collect her things.
Central Village, Phoenix
Late Afternoon
Natalie stumbled out of the car, her legs barely working. She hobbled to the door and practically fell inside. Gasping in pain, she curled up into a ball clutching her ribs, trying not to breathe too deeply as every breath sent a wave of pain through her body.
When she could move again, she dragged herself along the floor to the nearest wall socket. Trying to whistle, her ribs howled in agony. Crying, she pulled off her pants, her fingers tapped along the edge of her prosthetics. The now dead legs released her thighs, falling to the floor. Opening a compartment revealed a power cord that she plugged into the wall.
Moving more easily now, despite the pain, she pulled herself along the floor, grabbing her backpack. She began throwing clothes haphazardly into it. She would charge up her legs, then she would leave. She had enough money she could go anywhere, somewhere that didn't have freakish monsters who would eat her alive. There were safer places, like Nebraska or Kansas. She could figure out how to sell her things safely online.
It would be safer.
She needed to recharge her jacket. If anyone attacked her it didn't have enough power to let her do anything.
Taking it off she plugged it into a charger, and went to grab her vest that concealed another of her sonic metal suits. The heavy fabric felt safe and secure in her hands. As she put it on, the blood on her shirt filled her eyes.
Recoiling in disgust, Natalie ripped the t-shirt off. It was smeared with blood from her hand and arm, she didn't know whose blood it was, or how she hadn't noticed it before. Walking on her hands she tried to reach the bathroom, but couldn't move quickly enough. Vomiting noisily, bile and water soaked the carpet. The convulsions caused the ever present pain in her ribs to flare up.
Falling onto her back, she moaned in agony.
Time had no meaning as she lay on the floor, trying to shut out the terror and pain of the last few hours.
Desperately she hummed to herself, hoping the music would help clear her mind.
The doorbell brought her back to reality.
She cringed, a part of her mind screamed that it was The Cannibal, coming to kill her. The more rational part of her realized that he wouldn't knock on the door.
The bell rang again.
“Just a minute,” she shouted, then whimpered in pain.
She went and got a long shirt with extra long sleeves. Slowly she made her way to the door. “Who is it?” she asked, wincing as even talking made her ribs hurt.
“I'm a police officer, Ms.. We received a call saying you might be hurt, and just want to make sure everything is all right,” a woman said.
“I'm OK, thank you for coming, but everything is fine now,” she said.
The officer didn't go away. “I'm glad to hear that, Ms.. However I would appreciate it if you could open the door and tell me face to face. Is that possible?”
Swearing, Natalie briefly considered telling her to simply go away. Shaking her head, she decided that would be a red flag for the officer, proof that she really was in danger. Making sure her right hand was covered by her sleeve, she opened the door.
The officer clearly wasn't expecting to see a legless girl opening the door. She hid it well after an initial bit of confusion at having to look down so far. “Hello, Ms.?”
“Melody,” she replied. “I'm sorry about wasting your time. I was out exploring the city, and almost got hit by a car. My legs got all screwed up, and I hit the ground pretty hard. I must look terrible, I was just about to take a shower when you arrived.”
“I'm sorry to hear that,” the officer said. “Did you happen to get a look at the car?”
She shrugged. “A dark blue, I think.”
“Are you sure you're OK? You should probably be checked out by a doctor.”
Natalie shook her head. “No thanks, my legs took most of the damage. I've just got a few bruises. A hot shower, some pain pills and a good sleep will help deal with that. But if I start peeing blood or anything I'll head straight for the ER.”
That seemed to be enough for the officer. “All right, Melody. If you start feeling worse call an ambulance, and if you remember any details about the driver please give us a call. I hope you feel better soon.”
Closing the door, Natalie leaned against it and sighed. That had been terrifying.
Still, the talk had helped clear her head a bit. She probably did look like shit, leaving town without tidying herself up would only draw attention. Going to the bathroom, she undressed and took her arm off, strapped herself onto her seat and began to spray herself down.
Even with the shower on its softest setting, the water hurt. Studying her torso, there were swollen, ugly red bruises all over her chest and stomach, and her hip was worse. The spot where the gunman had unloaded his pistol at point blank range was not only horribly bruised, but the skin had split from the impact.
By the time she was done washing, exhaustion was threatening to put her to sleep in her chair. Barely bothering to dry herself off, she wrapped herself in a towel and crawled one-handed to the couch. Slipping under the soft blanket, she fell asleep almost immediately.
Central Village, Phoenix
October 28th
Early Morning
Natalie woke up with the sun in her eyes. Half remembered nightmares slowly fading from her mind.
Despite sleeping for so long she didn't feel rested. The knotted, sweaty sheets were wrapped so tightly around her that it was hard to breathe.
Rolling onto her front, she whimpered as the bruises made their presence known. Gazing sleepily around the room, clothes were thrown on the floor, her backpack was almost invisible under shirts and pants that had been haphazardly thrown into it, most of them only partially in the bag. Her legs were on the far side of the room, and she couldn't remember where she'd left her arm.
“Damn,” she whispered. Her mouth was sticky and dry, while her tongue felt so big she wanted to gag.
Sliding out of bed, she moaned as her bruised hip was jolted.
Finding some clean underwear beside her backpack, she put it on one handed. Feel a bit better she slowly dragged herself to her legs.
A minute later, she walked to the bathroom and found her arm lying on the floor. She slipped it on, it was low on power but it would do for now.
Getting a wet washcloth she wiped the sweat from her skin, trying not to press too hard on the many, very colourful bruises that covered her body. “Note to self, armour needs padding,” she muttered.
When her skin felt clean, she pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and wiped down her prosthetics. They were pockmarked from the bullets, which was messing with the feedback. That would take a few hours to fix.
Getting dressed, she poured herself a bowl of cereal and forced herself to think.
“I can run,” she said to herself. “But if I run, what happens the next time I get into a fight? There are supervillains and superheroes all over. Do I just keep running?”
She thought about the fight.
“I took down five men who ambushed me. I got hurt, but it's just bruises. My armour works. I couldn't fight The Cannibal, but I didn't actually have to fight him. He was testing me, and I didn't fail.”
Nodding, she continued down that train of thought.
“He's right my plans were laughable. But they did work. Now I need to fine-tune them. Take a few days to recover and come up with my next step.”
Her thoughts went to Clumsy and Foot Long.
“They betrayed me. I thought they would be helpful, and they set me up for that psycho,” she said, her voice flat and utterly devoid of emotion. “I have to make an example of them. I can't take out The Cannibal, yet, so I need to show the city what happens when they fuck with me.”
The music of creation rose in her mind. Finishing her breakfast, Forte went to her workshop, there was work to be done.
South Mountain, Phoenix
Bennie's Bar
Late Afternoon
It was a somber group that was drinking at their usual hangout. Last week they'd been thinking of their next big score, and now their plans were up in flames.
“Do we have anything left?” Tweak asked.
“Just the silence thing, and the shriekers,” Foot Long said. “Those are supposed to be noisy as fuck, don't want to use them without a good reason.”
“So what's the plan now?”
He shrugged. There wasn't a plan. They'd go back to selling drugs and getting protection money. No chance of moving up in the world or even expanding their territory. And despite handing Forte over to The Cannibal, they were still known to him. What that meant for the gang and him personally, he didn't want to think about.
“Do you think she's dead?”
Foot Long stared at his friend like he was an idiot. “You saying The Cannibal wanted to throw her a surprise party? What the fuck do you think?”
That brought the mood down even more.
“But what if she didn't die?” Tweak asked. “What if The Cannibal just wanted her to do something for him? Or was giving her a warning? He's done that before.”
He tried to think of something to say. He wanted to tell Tweak that that idea was a load of BS, but there was a chance it wasn't. What if she was alive? She was naive, but she wasn't helpless. She'd only sold and used weapons that were all non-lethal, but she said she kept the best for herself and she was trying to keep things quiet.
What would she do if she was pissed?
“Fuck. I've gotta call Clumsy.”
Central Village, Phoenix
After Midnight
The workshop reeked of sweat and chemicals. Acid stains marred the cement floor, and the paint was discoloured from the acrid fumes. Forte ignored all of it, too intent on the music that played in her mind, directing her actions, as she created her devises. The face mask she wore had been modified, with every breath she took golden wires lit up and it gently hummed, destroying harmful particles before they could reach her nose. Her hands and arms were covered in thick rubber gloves. A hastily designed speaker system alternated between a deep pulsing bass and a high pitched squeal, with a constant low hum in the background.
Her two jackets were hanging from hooks on the ceiling, their lining was cut along the seams, a tarp spread out under them. She sprayed a cloudy liquid on the fabric, making sure it got inside the sleeves and the lining, until they were thoroughly soaked. Slowly the sonic metal dripped out of the jackets, forming a pool on the tarp. Forte watched the entire two hour process.
The ruined jackets went into the garbage, along with the rags she used to mop up the thin layer of chemicals that covered the pure metal.
Wincing, she bit back a groan, as her bruised ribs let her know they didn't like how she was moving and stretching. Forcing herself to ignore her body's complaints, she placed several electrodes in the liquid metal, the other ends were attached to car batteries. They sparked and crackled briefly.
Taking her gloves off, Forte put in a pair of earplugs before starting up a new sound file. A wild cacophony erupted from the speakers, making her wince in pain. The sonic metal jumped, vibrating violently, while the yellow lines became painfully bright.
Taking a seat on the far side of the room, grateful for the chance to take a break, she watched her new suit take shape.
Desert View, Paradise Valley, Phoenix
October 29th
Morning
Alastair savoured his breakfast. It was almost impossible to go wrong with bacon, but his personal chef managed to turn a simple breakfast of bacon and eggs into a slice of heaven. Sipping his sweet corn atole, he let out a satisfied sigh. He wasn't fond of most Mexican food, but he had become a fan of the sweet drink soon after arriving in Arizona.
One of his men, carrying a folder, stepped quietly into the dining room and took a position by the wall. Alastair glanced at him, if it was urgent the man would say something. After a moment of silence, he returned to his breakfast, the news could wait. It had taken years to fill his organization with competent employees, who knew what was urgent and what could wait, were able to handle themselves competently in a fight, and didn't feel the need to act like macho men to prove themselves.
His thoughts went to the 'assassins' he had used against Forte. The petty thugs and drug dealers had spent months asking to move up. Then when given a simple job, ambushing and killing a naive devisor who didn't know how to fight, they had failed miserably. He had to admit she had some interesting tricks, the claws were unexpected, and her willingness to get her hands bloody was worth remembering, but anyone competent could have shot her in the back of the head before she knew they were there.
Overall the cost of tidying up the junkyard, which included removing the failed assassins, was well worth the results. He was no longer being pestered by incompetents, and he had a good idea of what to expect from the new devisor.
Now, provided she stayed in Phoenix, the question was how to make use of her.
Scraping up the last of the eggs, he pushed his plate away and looked at his patiently waiting employee.
“Sir, it looks like Forte is remaining in Phoenix. Our observers saw her working on her devises all of yesterday and most of last night,” the man said.
“And who is she?”
“We are fairly certain she's Natalie Foster, a seventeen year old, former musician,” he said, placing the folder on the table.
“How certain?”
He opened the folder to a picture of the girl, without legs, talking to a police officer. “It's almost a certainty. We assumed her metallic arm is a prosthetic like her legs, and we were able to use a basic web search to confirm her identity.”
Alastair flipped through the folder, a news article caught his eye. It was Forte, younger and with long hair, but clearly the same person. The headline read, 'YOUNG MUSICIAN CRITICALLY INJURED IN MUTANT ATTACK'.
“Interesting,” he said. He could definitely work with this when the time came.
Central Village, Phoenix
October 29th
Late Evening
Natalie laid stretched out on the couch, a heavily modified speaker held together by duct tape and screwed into the wall above her head, facing her body. It sounded like a giant purring cat.
For the first time since Sunday, she didn't hurt.
That morning she'd remembered reading once that a cats purr could help it heal. She didn't know if that was true or not, but the music started playing in her head almost immediately. Since her armour was still forming in her workshop, she'd taken some supplies and tools to the living room, then let the music overtake her. That had been at about nine in the morning, an hour ago she had finished cobbling together the bastardized healing speaker and created an audio program to go with it.
Her bruises weren't miraculously disappearing, but they didn't feel as tight and breathing deeply was only painful, not agonizing.
“Maybe I should get some science books,” she said to herself. “Then I might understand what exactly I'm doing.”
She hadn't hated science when she was in school, it simply wasn't her favourite subject-. Her lack of interest had simply been due to her wanting to play and study music rather than deal with temperatures, elements and chemicals. Now she had to wonder if that was holding her back.
Her devises worked, and she could make the simpler ones from memory alone. That was better than some devisors she'd studied, who could only make one of a kind devises. She could also kind of control the music when she worked, changing some notes to make her devises differently, a little less deadly, more protective, less showy, and things like that. And if she didn't want to make something, or didn't want to make it at that moment, stopping the music wasn't too hard, just a matter of self control, like not scratching an itch. She'd read one interview by a former supervillain called Lady Havok, who said she would often make devises without any conscious control of her actions.
Not being able to control your own mind sounded terrifying. She had enough problems already, losing her mind was at least as horrifying as the thought of losing her left hand.
“Stop thinking like that,” she told herself. “Once I get settled, I can get a few science books and maybe even take an online class. If it goes well, I'll see about learning more.”
With that settled, she closed her eyes, trying to rest.
Central Village, Phoenix
Wednesday, October 30th
Afternoon
Forte looked at herself in the mirror. Her new armour fit nicely, even with the padded kevra undershirt it had only taken a few minutes of work to adjust it around her breasts and shoulders.
Unlike her old armour, this one connected with her legs, allowing them to share their energy supply. It would tear holes in her pants or tights, but that was a small price to pay for protection. Like her old armour, this one was made of segmented plates, allowing her to move easily. But this time they went almost all the way to her knees, and were several millimetres thicker.
Her right arm was completely covered in metal, with a razor sharp blade on the outside of her forearm. It didn't go past her wrist, allowing her to move her hand freely. It looked scary, and Forte figured anything that let her hurt her opponent more was good. Her fingers remained human-like, but thicker, ending in two inch long claws. If she could get a grip on someone she'd be able to tear them apart.
Her left arm was also completely covered with a clawed gauntlet. However she had a buckler on the forearm, which would hopefully help block some hits.
Her mask was still featureless. She'd figured out how to put protective lenses over her eyes, it wasn't much, but it was better than before. She wished she could put a filter over the nose slit, however she didn't have enough sonic metal, and she couldn't quite figure out how to have the sonic metal move it from the backpack to her face. The lenses were flat, and could flow with the metal, the filter simply couldn't do that.
Tensing her right arm, her hand began to glow, relaxing it, the glow faded. Behind her mask, she grinned. The next time she got into a fight she was going to have a nice surprise on her side. Flexing various muscles, she increased and decreased power to her limbs, now she wouldn't have to whistle in a fight, making her actions more fluid and natural.
Softly she whistled the code for her armour. It flowed off her, disappearing into a backpack that had been hidden under the armour. Taking it off, she checked her new devised batteries. There were three of them nestled in their slots. The first battery was almost empty, just like she'd expected. The liquefying and solidifying of the sonic metal was extremely energy intensive, but that was why she had the other two batteries. Now she would be able to fight or run for several minutes without running low.
Forte grinned. She would take the rest of the day to make some devises, get a good night sleep and tomorrow night she'd go visit Clumsy and Foot Long.
South Mountain, Phoenix
Bennie's Bar
October 30th
Night
The bar was almost dead, even the regulars were largely avoiding the place.
Foot Long sat in the corner watching the door. What was left of the Mountain Boys, all seven of them, were either trying their best to get drunk, or were like him, waiting for the shoe to drop. Their wariness, and the rumours that they were on The Cannibal's shit list, had the locals avoiding them. He couldn't blame them, no one wanted to mess with that unstoppable killing machine.
And it wasn't like they could tell the truth, that they were worried about the newest supervillain in town. If word got around that they'd set up their supplier to get killed, no one would want anything to do with them.
So here they were, huddled together for protection, while trying to look like they weren't terrified. Six of their members had vanished. Some of them had said goodbye as they left to visit friends or family in different cities, the rest just vanished. If they were laying low, had left town, or were dead, no one knew, which only helped make everyone feel more on edge.
“I wish we coulda kept that BMW. She was fucking tight,” Tweak muttered.
“You're still moaning about that? We needed something to get her attention, it was lose the car or get turned into shit,” Foot Long replied.
“But it was the nicest car I've ever driven. She was a beauty, and now she's probably blown up or full of holes. It's sacrilegious!”
“Sacri-what?”
“Really Fucking bad,” Tweak explained.
Sipping his beer, Foot Long wondered if he should just go to the bathroom and keep walking. He had a nice thing going here, but being terrified of being eaten by an ogre, or getting attacked by a skinny girl who had threatened to destroy his brain was putting a pretty damn big damper on things. “Why not just steal another one?” he said, just to keep the conversation going.
“The security on them is a bitch, man. Finding the trackers, getting past the print scanner, and removing the security shut off is hard as hell,” Tweak moaned.
He barely listened as his friend complained, just nodding his head every once in a while. A few times someone in the gang would get a message and leave for a few minutes, quickly coming back with a bit more money in their pockets and a little less drugs. They weren't doing much, but they still had product to move.
Just when he was about to call it a night, the bouncer who had mostly been sitting by the door relaxing, stood up, shaking his head and motioning for someone to leave.
Then he was falling backwards, hitting the ground hard.
A girl holding what looked like a toy gun stepped around the motionless bouncer. She had black hair, but the glowing yellow hand made it clear who it was. Her eyes met his, and she whistled.
“SHIT!” he shouted, reaching for his gun.
His gang, the ones who weren't passed out, dove for cover or went for their guns as well. A few of them started shooting.
It didn't help, Forte had her armour up, and the few bullets that hit her bounced off harmlessly. The people in the bar dove for cover.
Then he saw Clumsy throw a ball.
Forte saw it as well, the lines on her legs flared as she jumped at least twenty feet straight back. A second later an ear piercing shriek erupted from the devise. Foot Long grimaced in pain as his ears rang, and a fiery needle pierced his brain. It only lasted a moment, but he was left shaking his head trying to clear it.
The people closer to the Shriek were on the ground clutching their heads, screaming in pain.
Raising his gun again, Foot Long started shooting. It didn't seem like bullets could hurt her, but it was better than nothing. The armoured supervillain sprinted forwards, her right hand glowing. She pointed it at Clumsy who was fumbling in his coat pocket for another Shriek. Her hand flared into a miniature sun.
It sounded like the end of the world.
Foot Long dropped his gun, covering his ears, trying to make the booming echoes stop. His head throbbed, bringing tears to his eyes. Looking over, Clumsy was sprawled on the floor, bleeding from his eyes, ears and nose.
“You move, you die,” Forte yelled, barely audible over the ringing in his ears.
No one moved, those capable of it wouldn't dare.
She searched Clumsy's pockets, taking her devises back, along with all the drugs and cash he was carrying, throwing them into a bag. Turning to the rest of them, she pointed the plastic gun in their general direction. “Money and drugs, now,” she said, putting her bag on the table.
They didn't argue or even try to hide anything, it all went into the bag. When they'd emptied their pocket, she looked in the bag, then at him.
“This doesn't even cover the costs of your betrayal,” she said. Pointing her gun at him, she motioned for him to come forwards. “You and I are going to have a talk. Out the back, now!”
Shaking in fear he took the lead, praying that he wasn't about to die.
Forte walked past the innocent people who had been hit by the Shriek. Hopefully someone would call paramedics, they'd probably be OK, but having a doctor look them over would probably stop them from long term hearing loss.
She didn't give a shit about Clumsy, he deserved getting hit by a sonic boom, but she hadn't wanted the bystanders hurt.
Foot Long led them through the small kitchen and out the back door. With a bit of privacy, she shoved him against the wall and dug a single claw into his side. It wouldn't leave a bad cut, but it hurt and drew just enough blood for a good show.
“How much money did you get from robbing the drug house?” she demanded.
“I don't know! A couple of thousand,” he said.
She didn't know if he was telling the truth or not, she didn't really care. A nasty, vengeful side of her was hoping he wasn't lying. “Sucks to be you then,” she said, bringing her bloody claw up to his face. “Tomorrow night, I'll phone you with a location. You'll come running with 50K in cash.”
“I don't have that kind of money.”
“I don't care,” she said. “That cut I gave you, it's full of nanites. They're already moving through your body, crawling inside your veins, getting inside your heart, digging little holes just under your skin. In twenty four hours, they'll head to your brain. Once enough of them arrive, they'll go boom. It probably won't kill you, they're very tiny after all. But they'll destroy your neurons, veins, and more. It will be like a massive stroke, even the braincells that survive will be crushed as the blood floods your skull. You'll forget how to walk. Your childhood memories will probably vanish. You'll almost certainly never talk again. You'll shit yourself because you can't use a toilet without help. You might be able to tie your shoe laces if you're really lucky, after a few years of therapy. There are so many things that could happen, I almost want to take you home, tie you up and watch it happen.”
She got in very close, her armoured cheek touching his. “Whatever it does, I know this much. You'll spend your life in the hospital, having nurses bathe you, changing your diaper, feeding you with a spoon, carrying you from your bed to your wheelchair like a helpless, little, baby. Everyone who sees you will look at you with pity, or disgust, wondering what you did, to deserve becoming a useless, wretched creature. And every minute of your life, you'll wish you had died cleanly and painlessly.”
He started sobbing incoherently.
“Get me my money, and I'll get rid of the nanites,” she said.
Turning away from him, she increased the energy to her legs and sprinted away with her money.
Phoenix, Arizona
Police Department
Late at night
Lolomi drained his coffee cup and wished he had something stronger. After the day he'd had, waking up at two in the morning even for a potentially important interrogation was not something he was looking forward to.
“What do we have so far?” he asked the detective.
“That new supervillain attacked a bar, she seemed to be focused on the Mountain Boys, a small street gang that mostly stays below the radar. She blasted the gang leader, one Howard Wilson, with something loud and powerful, then ran off with the second in command, Conner Fox,” he said. “We have four of them in custody, two were too drunk to get away, the other two practically begged us to protect them. I'm about to question the first one now, if you want to take part.”
“I would. I'll let you do most of the talking,” Lolomi said, motioning for the detective to take the lead.
“He's called Tweak, his real name is Eddie Hernandez. He's got a record of vandalism, possession, assault, and he carjacked a few cars when he was sixteen, we suspect he's stolen a lot more. We were all waiting for him to get caught doing something big, so we could send him away and let him be someone elses problem. He's with his lawyer, and they've been talking for at least twenty minutes.”
They stepped into the interrogation room, which had a skinny young man who jumped as the door opened, and a tired looking lawyer, going over his notes.
“Good evening, Detective Perez, Lolomi. I'm Mr. Romero, Eddie's attorney,” the lawyer said. “I'd like to ask why my client, who was the victim of an attack by a clearly deranged supervillain is being held and interrogated?”
“Your client,” Detective Perez said, “asked us to bring him in for his own safety. Since he's so concerned about this villain we thought he'd like to give a statement and answer some questions in a safe place.”
“A statement is acceptable, as long as it doesn't turn into an interrogation of this traumatized young man,” Mr. Romero said.
“I wouldn't dream of it.”
“And of course,” Mr. Romero said, “I'll be right here helping my client.”
Detective Perez sighed. “Of course.”
“I'm glad we have an understanding. And I hope no one is talking to the other young men who you brought in. As their legal counsel, I want a chance to speak with them before anyone asks them questions.”
“Don't worry, we are making sure everything is done by the books.”
Lolomi bit his tongue, this was going to be a long and likely pointless night.
Central Village, Phoenix
October 31st
Midday
Natalie stretched out on her couch, catching up on the latest news about her, while her healing speaker purred above her. Her old bruises still ached, and despite the padding she had a few new ones from last night. The new ones were tiny, nowhere near comparable to her old bruises, but padding was still a work in progress.
The media and the police weren't keeping her attack on the Mountain Boys quiet, it wasn't everyday a supervillain marched into a bar and publicly took out a gang. They also knew that her name was Forte. Despite that she wasn't front page news, That honour went to a supervillain named Klepto, who had tried to rob a bank in downtown Phoenix only to be stopped by the Phoenix Warriors, while his crew successfully robbed a bank all the way across town during the fight.
It was a little more risky than she would do it, but she had to congratulate him on his plan, it had worked wonderfully.
Now if only she knew where to get some minions.
Maybe she should ask Foot Long about that when they met up.
Her thoughts went back to the previous night. No one had died, although Clumsy was apparently in serious condition at the hospital, so there was no blood on her hands. Still she had thought she would feel a little guilty over what she had done. She'd gone after them for revenge, they couldn't hurt her, they didn't even know where she lived. She'd hunted them down and made them know some of the fear she had felt.
Did that make her a monster?
A criminal and supervillain lived by their reputation. If she was seen as weak or incompetent, she would be eaten alive. Still no one really knew her yet. No one could have connected her to the Mountain Boys. Did she really need to go after them?
But...
There was always the but.
But once she did become better known, word might get out how they had screwed her over, setting her up to die at the hands of The Cannibal. Even though she was just starting out, that could hurt her. Now people knew she was serious. She had publicly walked through a hail of bullets and taken down seven armed men. If people thought about betraying her, they'd have some serious second thoughts.
“So,” she asked the room, “am I a monster?”
She still hadn't personally hurt anyone who was innocent. The bouncer had just been put to sleep, and Clumsy had thrown the Shriek. She hadn't been expecting that, and had almost fallen victim to it. That would have been embarrassing at best, and most likely deadly. So the only person she had injured was Clumsy, and that had been self defense. Actually now that she thought about it, if he had thrown the second devise, the people already hurt would have been even worse off. She had practically been the hero there, taking weapons away from people who were clearly too incompetent and untrustworthy to use them.
“I'm not good, and I'll never claim to be, but I'm not a monster. I'm just doing what I have to to survive, just like everyone else,” she said.
“Now,” she said, looking at her right hand, “let’s go try that new idea, so I won't have to wear a glove all the time. It's probably getting a bit too suspicious with all the pictures they have of Forte.”
Making a Noise in the World
Part 3
by
Domoviye
**
South Mountain, Phoenix
Monday, October 31st
Early Afternoon
Foot Long scratched at his arms. He could feel the nanites under his skin, crawling through his veins, digging into his flesh, making more of themselves before they went to his brain. As he waited for his friend, he stared at his bloody nails, something seemed to be moving through the blood. Was it a nanite?
His vision wavered.
“No! No! No!” he moaned. “Stay out of my brain!”
“Damn man, you OK?”
He looked up, almost crying with relief at seeing his friend. “Bobby, I need your help. I fucked up big time.”
“I'm here for you man. Come on inside and sit down, when was the last time you slept,” Bobby asked, opening the door to his apartment.
Drawing his gun, Foot Long pointed it at his friend. “I'm sorry Bobby, I need everything you've got. Cash, drugs, everything.”
Raising his hands in the air, Bobby tried to calm things down. “Hey Conner, calm down. You don't need to do this. Sit down and talk to me.”
“I can't calm down! I need to get 50K by tonight or I am fucking dead.”
“Let's get in my car, I can drive you to my brothers in New Mexico. You keep your head down there for a few days, get your shit toge-”
“You don't understand! They're in my head already. She put them there. I need the money to get them out before they blow up. She already fucked up Clumsy. He had all the money and shit.”
“Who is she?”
“Forte! She blames us for Cannibal. She like a fucking terminator and she's going to destroy my brain. Now give me EVERYTHING YOU'VE GOT!” he shouted, his pistol pointing straight at Bobby's head.
Five minutes later Foot Long ran out of the apartment. All told he had about fifteen thousand dollars in drugs, and almost ten thousand in cash. Hopping into his car, he tried to think of where he could get the rest of the money.
His nails left long bloody gouges in his arms.
Paradise Valley, Phoenix
Alastair leaned back in his chair, and gave his second in command a small smile. “Emma, thank you for coming so promptly,” he said, motioning for her to sit and accept the wine sitting in front of her.
“It was my pleasure, sir,” she replied, before taking a sip of her drink.
She didn't look like much. No one would look at the tiny, willowy woman and think she was the right hand woman of the second most feared cartel enforcer in the state, and that worked perfectly for him. While she had never killed anyone, or even overtly threatened a person, she was one of the reasons Alistair had been able to rise so high. The low level empath was truly gifted at reading people, being a highly intelligent, ice queen, who wanted money and power was an added bonus. He provided her the money and power she craved, and she helped ensure his operation ran smoothly.
“I want you to find a trusted middleman to buy some weapons for us,” he said.
“I assume this is for the new devisor you've been playing with?”
“Yes, I think she'll fit my plans quite well,” he replied
She tilted her head and looked at him curiously. “May I ask exactly how she fits?”
He nodded. “Did you ever watch Gilligans Island?”
Now she was very interested. “The shipwrecked people on an island? I saw a few episodes when I was a child.”
“Good. Forte is going to be Gilligan.”
“If I remember correctly, Gilligan was the idiot who always ruined the plans to get off the island. He wasn't exactly helpful,” she replied.
His smile grew bigger, it was always a pleasure to catch Emma by surprise, she had ears everywhere, even in his office, which was one reason he paid her so well. “Gilligan was an agent of chaos, naivety and stupidity, ruining everyone's plans, enemies and allies alike. We have many enemies, and they all have their many intricate plans to gain power, keep power, remove enemies, and gain allies. If I move one way, they each have three plans to deal with me. We are all bound up in threads, afraid to move, for fear of losing our balance and strangling ourselves.”
She nodded in understanding. “And our own enemies, and allies, are currently tightening their threads around our neck.”
“Exactly! I enjoy stability. I could happily stay like this until I retire, but my enemies won't let me. So I must show them that while I do well in the status quo, I thrive in chaos. And if my plans are destroyed in the process, it doesn't matter, I can always go back to my old ways.” He grinned, almost looking like his Cannibal persona.
“I can't cause the chaos myself, but given some time and quiet support, my little musician could. She has proven to have the ruthlessness, anger, and stupidity to go far, if she doesn't die first.” He hit a button and a holographic screen appeared, showing an article of Forte's attack on a local gang.
“So make sure she gets some money to build her toys, and a list of potentially helpful resources. If she doesn't use them properly, we can always kill her ourselves.”
Central Village, Phoenix, Arizona
Natalie peered at her right hand, moving each individual finger singly and together, looking and feeling for any snags, friction, or faults. Picking up a paper cup, she frowned as it bent a little, it wasn't crushed and she could drink from it, so it was ultimately a success, but the feedback wasn't what she was used to.
“I guess this will do,” she muttered, leaning back in her seat.
Her once sleek prosthetic was now covered in clip on plastic parts up to her elbow, that not only made her limb a little bulkier, but looked almost like a toy. It was a common look for prosthetic limbs, avoiding the uncanny valley look of more realistic designs, and looking like something a superhero would wear. She'd worn one for a while after losing her limbs, but it had never felt right. She'd also hated looking different.
Now, she needed to look different. If she kept wearing gloves all the time, people would start wondering why she and Forte always covered their hands. But a teen girl with an obviously missing arm, there was no way she could be a supervillain. Now if only she could work up the courage to leave her home with it on.
Her alarm went off. It was time to meet her potential new customer, and then she'd need to deal with Foot Long. If he believed her about the nanites, he was probably getting pretty desperate by now. Smiling to herself, she wondered if her bluff had worked. He'd looked terrified when she'd lied to him, a long night worrying about his brain turning to mush couldn't have been nice.
Unclipping the plastic pieces, which were to be kept as far from her business as possible, Forte went to get ready.
Alhambra, Phoenix, AZ
Late Afternoon
Forte looked around the dingy fast food joint. “Gotta say, I preferred the mall,” she muttered to herself.
Her contact was sitting at a table out of line of sight of the counter and staff, a half eaten meal in front of him, recognizing him by his Phoenix Suns hat. Brushing aside a long brown bang that refused to stay in place, she'd decided halfway there to cut it off when she had a chance to take the wig off, Forte walked over and took a seat, putting her heavy backpack on her lap for easy access.
“Hello Mitch, I'm Forte,” she said.
“I know,” he said. “Foot Long told me what you look like, he didn't say that you'd look so out of place.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“The Hot Topics get up,” he waved at her outfit, his distaste extremely obvious. “You're like a little rich girl slumming it for kicks. You stick out, it's bad for your business.”
“Do you still want to do business, or did I waste my time?” she asked.
He leaned in close. “I want to know why you went after Foot Long and his crew? It seemed like you guys were pretty tight, doing some good business together.”
“They shouldn't have set me up to be ambushed by The Cannibal. I take being almost killed, then questioned by a psychopath a little personally.”
His eyes widened a little. “You survived The Cannibal?”
“No,” she said very clearly. “I survived his men who wanted to see if I was bulletproof. When I took all five of them down, The Cannibal decided I was worth talking to. Do you want to see the bruises?”
She had thought very carefully about how she would answer any questions about her attack on The Mountain Boys. She didn't want to seem like a crazy person who would attack people mindlessly, but she also didn't want people thinking she was lying about The Cannibal to make herself look good. Telling the truth seemed like the best option.
“All right. I can respect that.” His phone buzzed. “Hold up a second.”
Mitch got up, pulling something from his pocket, keeping it well concealed in his hand. Walking over to a guy and girl who had just come into the restaurant. He grabbed the guy by the hand, giving him a half hug, then walked back to the table. She saw him slipping a wad of cash into his pocket, as the pair went to the counter.
He saw her looking around a bit nervously, and gave her a smile that was almost a sneer. “Lighten up. No cops come here, and I give a discount to the staff to leave me alone. You really are fresh. Now, I need one of your silence domes, how much?”
Forte decided that even if Mitch was an asshole, his money was good enough. She was still going to charge him extra. Smiling, she named her price.
South Mountain, Phoenix
Foot Long tore apart the room, leaving bloodstains on everything he touched. His arms were raw, open wounds, scabbed over in places, and weeping blood in others. He knew it was here somewhere, he just had to find it.
The front door opened.
“No, no, no, no,” he whispered. They weren't supposed to show up yet, he didn't want them to see him.
“Uncle Conner!” a child said. “Are you here to see daddy? He's in the doctors.”
“Hey there, Timmy,” he said. “I'm a little busy right now, how about you go and sit on the couch with your mommy and everyone else.”
Timmy gasped. “You're bleeding. Come on, mommy will get you a band-aid. Did you get hurt when daddy got hurt.”
Clumsy's wife came in, holding a baseball bat. “Conner, what are you doing here? And what the hell have you done,” she demanded, looking over the tossed room.
“Kat, I'm sorry,” Foot Long said, holding his hands up, hoping she would understand. “I need Clumsy’s stash. Forte did something to me, she's going to blow up my brain if I don't get her fifty thousand dollars tonight.”
“Get the fuck out of my house!” she shouted. “You're the one who shot that guy, which made everything go to hell. You are not getting my family's money. We need it for Howard. Do you have any idea what that bitch did to him? He'll probably never walk again.”
“I'm sorry! I didn't want any of this to happen! Give me the stash, and I'll pay you back, and I'll make sure you guys have enough to survive on until Clumsy gets better,” he said. “But for gods sake, I'm going to be even worse off than Clumsy if I don't get the money.”
She raised the bat. “You'll pay me back? How? You're a goddamn idiot, who only became important because you were Howard's friend. GET OUT!”
A baby started to cry in the living room, and Timmy had backed up against the bed, his eyes wide with fear and confusion as his uncle sobbed and his mother screamed.
“Mommy,” a little girl called, “Bobby's crying. What's going on?”
“Don't worry, honey, your uncle and I are just having a little argument. He's leaving now,” Kat said.
Foot Long scratched at his arm, drawing more blood. He had thirty three thousand dollars in cash and drugs, he'd sold everything he had, borrowed, begged and stolen from everyone he knew and a few he didn't. He was going to end up in the hospital, shitting his diaper, and never walking again. A spot floated in his vision.
He screamed in terror.
Grabbing Timmy, he pulled out his pistol and put it to the boys temple. “GIVE ME THE FUCKING STASH!”
“Don't hurt my baby,” Kat said. “I'll give it to you, but don't you dare hurt him.”
Putting down the bat, she went to the bed and crawled underneath. He heard wood being moved, and then she came out holding a small portable safe. Placing it on the bed, she opened it for him, revealing several tightly bound stacks of bills, and five sealed bags full of different kinds of drugs.
“It's all yours, just give me Timmy and leave,” she said.
Pushing the child away, he practically fell on the small fortune. With shaking hands, he started counting out the money. He only needed seventeen thousand, Kat could keep the rest of it, and he'd pay her back. It would all work out, he just needed to get the nanites out of his head and he could make everything better.
The baseball bat came down on his back. He rolled to the side, the bat grazing his arm as it struck a second time. Kat moved around the bed, raising it a third time, aiming for his head.
Foot Long emptied his pistol into her.
“God no! Why did you do that!” he screamed at the dead woman.
Her children were screaming. Timmy ran to his mother, holding her as she bled out onto the carpet. Grabbing the entire stash, Foot Long ran out of the apartment, leaving his pistol.
Clumsy's Apartment
Fifteen minutes later
Jackalope stood outside the door of the apartment, cradling a baby and two crying children, the oldest of whom couldn't be older than six and was covered in his mothers blood. He'd been walking nearby when his intuition had told him to cross the street and turn the corner. He'd heard the children screaming from the street.
Turning on his built-in camera, he asked, “Do you know who hurt your mommy?”
“Uncle Conner,” the boy sobbed.
“Why did he do it?”
“Said he needed money. He was yelling and crying and his arms were hurt bad.”
“Why did he need the money?”
“I don't know. He needed a lot or,” the child screwed up his face, trying to remember. “Or his brain would blow up.”
Jackalope gave him a squeeze. “Why would his brain blow up?”
“I don't know. He yelled about a fort, and he put his gun to my head and then he shot mommy.”
“Thank you. You are a very good and smart boy to remember all of that. You did a very good job,” he said, keeping his voice soft. Inside, hidden safely away, rage flared within him. He vowed that Forte would pay for this.
Sirens pulled up downstairs, the front door opened and people came running up the stairs. The cavalry had finally arrived.
South Mountain, Phoenix
Late Evening
It was a little later than she had planned, but she had finally managed to find a quiet spot and was now waiting for Foot Long to show up.
For some reason the area was full of cops, clearly looking for someone. Fortunately they didn't seem to want her, they hadn't even given her a second glance as she walked along with her hands in the pocket of her hoodie. She was still nervous, which was why she'd taken extra care in picking a meeting place.
From her spot on the roof of a run down business, she scanned the area and a smile came to her face. Foot Long was stumbling along with a beat up laptop bag under his arm. Taking her time, she studied him, he'd sounded terrible on the phone, and seeing him in person, he looked like shit.
Whistling, her armour surrounded her. She jumped off the roof, her legs and armour taking most of the impact, and walked over to her former customer. “You got what I want?” she demanded.
He threw the bag at her feet. His eyes seemed dead, none of the cockiness that had filled them when they'd first met remained. She noticed that blood was dripping from his fingers, the sleeves of his shirt were oddly dark and stiff.
“It's all here?” she asked. Opening it up to see several bound stacks of bills and bags of drugs.
“Yeah. Cash and drugs, couldn't get it all in cash.” His voice was a monotone whisper.
She was about to ask him what she was supposed to do with the drugs, but his voice and eyes were utterly dead. She had wanted to taunt him a bit, ask him a few questions about the supervillain scene of Phoenix, ask him some clinical questions about the non-existent nanites, but he was actually freaking her out. For a moment, Forte wondered if she'd gone too far. She forcefully shoved that thought away, he'd been the one to betray her.
“Get on your knees, getting rid of the nanites will knock you out for a minute. I don't want you cracking your skull and getting your blood on my shoes,” she said.
Foot Long fell to his knees, like a puppet who'd had its strings cut. She winced at the thought of how much that had to hurt the knees.
“I keep my side of a deal. When you wake up, you'll be completely clean, the nanites will dissolve and be absorbed in a few hours. I never want to see or hear you again. if you try to come after me in any way, I won't be so nice next time,” she said.
He nodded, utterly defeated.
Placing her right hand on his head, she put him to sleep. That was probably a mercy, it looked like he hadn't slept in days. The job done, she looked around for any observers, then took off her armour. It was time to go home, she needed a shower.
Central Village, Phoenix, Arizona
Tuesday, November 1st
Midday
Natalie clipped a black choker around her neck, adjusting it slightly to place the silver broach over her voice box. Tapping the broach twice, it hummed to life and then fell silent.
“I'm Forte,” she said. The choker tingled, causing her voice to sound much deeper and masculine.
Tapping a hidden wire on the side, she spoke again, her voice a barely understandable growl. “Your money or your life.”
Another tap made the choker heat up. “I'm going to fuck you up!” a chirpy three year old said.
The choker was becoming hot against her neck. “Muhahaha! I will conquer the world!” a witch cackled.
Taking the devise off, she giggled with delight. Once she worked out the bugs, it was going to be fun to use. It would also help make her a little harder to track, and it matched her new style. It was funny, two years ago she wouldn't have been caught dead looking punk, unless it was a costume for a show. Now it was her go to look. Being a supervillain with over fifty K in cash, and god only knew how much in drugs, was something else she wouldn't have thought would happen. She didn't know what was up with Foot Long, but he'd given her a hell of a lot more than she'd asked for, not that she was going to complain or give it back.
Falling onto the couch, Natalie picked up her phone and went to Villain Watch. Since her attempt at remaining mostly faceless had failed, it was time to see what type of name she was making for herself. The front page of the social media site was showing some fight from Italy between a goblin like villain and some hero dressed up like one of the three musketeers. Ignoring that, she searched for 'Forte'.
A page opened up, with her name and a C- at the top. She couldn't really complain about her ranking, she hadn't exactly done that much in front of a camera. It was also better to be underestimated than overestimated, she'd prefer not to have the heroes pulling the gloves off too soon.
There were videos of her 'fighting' Jackalope, the news conference where her codename was revealed, and a security camera from the bar showing a blurry image of taking down The Mountain Boys. Seeing herself in action brought a smile to her face, especially when she saw her sonic cannon work. At the time she hadn't been able to admire its effectiveness, now she could. Clumsy had been instantly put down, and everyone near him was stunned by the noise.
Surprisingly her page had about a dozen commentators having a go at trying to figure her out. They mostly seemed to be local, but one guy claimed to be from Sweden and liked her tech. He also complimented her figure, which made her smile.
There was a small but heated discussion about how old she was, most were guessing about twenty years old, a few thought she might be fifteen or sixteen and just looked older because she was a mutant. They seemed to have reached the conclusion that her codename was a reference to music and not about what she was good at. She almost wanted to confirm it, but held off, her phone wasn't exactly secure.
Then she got to the power ranking. These were ranked by letters, A being the lowest and G being the highest, a few supervillains had higher than G, but those were the biggest threats that required a virtual army to deal with. Each of the letters also had a bar graph, where the more obsessed members could see just how good the supervillain was in that area. These bar graphs had their own colour to make things easier. A was violet, B was blue, C was green, D was yellow, E was orange, F was red, and G was of course black.
It was all speculation of course. Cape and villain followers used pictures and videos to argue for hours about how powerful and skilled a particular person was until the majority sided with one or the other. And then it all started up again as soon as another video came out. When it came to strength, equipment and fighting skill, the site was actually pretty useful. For other powers, especially mental and magical powers, it left a lot to be desired.
While a couple of people were trying to say she had some special powers like shapeshifting or a psychic field that made people ignore her, to explain how she'd successfully gotten away with the bank robberies, they'd been shouted down pretty hard. She had to chuckle at some of their reasoning, they put far too much faith in people actually paying attention to what was going on around them.
The only three rankings listed for her were 'Fighting', 'Tech Development' and 'Combat Tech'.
As expected her Fighting rank was a low A. Natalie couldn't blame them, she really did have to find a trainer and time to learn how to fight effectively. But she had to wonder what they would think if they had seen her taking out the five hitmen.
Turning her attention to Tech Development, her eyes went wide.
“What the hell?!” she shouted. They had her as a rank B, and were currently arguing if she was a low or mid level. Did they have any idea how hard it was to create a metal that would go from liquid to a solid using simple sound? Getting it to do that had taken her months of work. She was at least a mid level D, and once she got a workshop going, getting up to E rank would be easy.
She was somewhat mollified at seeing they had her combat tech as a mid C. She could one shot a superhero, her cannon had impressed them, and jumping over twenty feet straight back without losing her balance was considered impressive. The argument for the last one was that most virtually skin tight power armour, couldn't enhance the users strength that much, so it had raised her from a low C to the current mid C.
“How little they know,” she muttered, tapping her leg.
She spent some time going over other Phoenix based villains to see if anything had changed for them since she'd last checked. The Sewer Queen's dead dogs had been seen out in Casa Grande, which was just on the outskirts of where she usually roamed. Speculation was running rampant on what was going on there, ranging from scouting out a potential enemy, assassinating someone who had annoyed her, expanding her territory, or meeting someone on neutral territory.
Natalie shivered at the photo of the pack of rotting dogs that had mushrooms growing out of their eyes and bodies. While the Sewer Queen had never attacked a civilian, no one wanted to be near her or her army of undead things that could be found in the Phoenix storm drains and sewers.
The only other bit of interesting news was some blurry webcam video from Chandler. That place usually wasn't in the news, being pretty safe and boring compared to the rest of the Phoenix metro area. That could be changing though, a tiny werewolf was running around at night. Natalie smirked, the werewolf really was a little thing, judging from the car it ran past, it had to be under five feet tall. Not very intimidating.
“Are you a villain, a hero, or some mutant out for a nightly jog?” she asked. Maybe she could go and sound them out. They were probably just as new as she was, but having a partner would make things easier, and they may know a bit of the local crime scene, which she desperately needed help with.
Finally she shook her head, it wasn't worth the risk. If it was some budding hero, it would draw unnecessary attention to herself. And if it was just some teen going for a jog, going and asking if they wanted to be a supervillain would make her look like an idiot. Best to ignore the little wolf until she had to deal with them.
Her break over, she went to her workroom, putting on her gas mask as soon as she stepped through the door. The filter hummed with every breath, the special frequency breaking apart the harmful fumes, leaving breathable air in its place with just a slightly higher than average oxygen content.
Putting on a pair of rubber gloves, she took a roll of aluminum foil and went to her soup pot of sonic metal. Lifting the lid off revealed a mound of silvery metal shaped much like a mushroom top. Ripping off a piece of foil, she draped it over top of the metal, and listened to the faint plinking sound that rose from it. The foil became duller, small cracks developed on the surface as it was absorbed into the growing sonic metal.
The plinking sound became louder.
It took five minutes for the foil to be completely absorbed. Behind the mask Natalie grinned, this batch was working 25% faster than her older batch. She couldn't wait to harvest it. Ripping up half of the foil, she filled the pot, put the lid back on and left the room, her mind dancing with ideas.
Tempe, Phoenix, Arizona
Friday November 4th
Mid-Morning
Forte stepped into the small office, carefully looking around, while trying not to look nervous. The other day she'd gotten a call from a man who claimed to be working as an agent for a potential client, and had set up the meeting. She couldn't tell if he was legitimate or not, but couldn't turn down a potential customer. She'd spent the last four hours nervously watching the small, relatively new building for any signs of an ambush, not that she really knew what to watch out for. She'd seen Jackalope off in the distance earlier, and had almost bolted, until he left looking frustrated. Other than that, it looked OK.
Now she was wearing a nice outfit that was perfect for the office, tan pants, a white turtle neck sweater that was great for the cool day, a brown vest, and white leather gloves. With her shoulder length dirty blonde wig, and makeup making her seem more mature, she looked like a young business woman who was dressed and ready for success.
No one would be able to guess that the vest was actually quite heavy, being filled with sonic metal. It was the last of her old suits, the other two being used for parts. It was also her weakest one, being little more than body armour. Which was why her satchel had several shrieks, boomers, and her sleep gun.
A well dressed middle aged man stood up to greet her. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Forte. Please take a seat.”
“Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Jackson,” she replied, gratefully taking a seat. She'd woken up with her left stump sore and itchy, putting on her leg had not been fun or easy. Still she couldn't risk losing a potential client, so it was a case of grin and bear it.
“My client has seen the effects of your devises, and is interested in purchasing several of them for security,” he said, getting straight to business.
“I have a few devises ready to go that I think would suit their purposes. I'm also working on several others that should be ready by the end of the month, after testing for quality control,” she replied. Reaching into her satchel, she pulled out her basic security alarm. “You mentioned wanting to keep certain rooms secure. You can stick this devise to metal, wood or plastic by squeezing the sides, then squeeze it again to remove it. When it's in place press the button on the side, and if it's dislodged it will cause a blinding headache to anyone within five feet, while alerting everyone for several hundred yards. Traditional means of disabling it won't work.”
He picked it up, studying the faint yellow line running through it. “This uses your special metal?”
“Yes, Mr. Jackson. It's a solid piece of sonic metal. It's relatively simple inside, so while its a devise, it won't break down for quite a while. The first one I made a year ago is still in working order. It will need periodic recharging, a typical wireless charger will work.” She allowed herself a small smile at one of her successes.
“And how do I disable it from the other side of the door?”
“I can provide a small key fob, that when placed against the door will use a specific series of harmonics to deactivate it. Generally I set one fob to one alarm, but I can change any number of alarms to work with it,” she said.
Nodding, he looked interested. “When you attacked that gang, you used a devise to put the bouncer to sleep. Is that for sale as well?”
Reaching into her satchel again, she pulled out the sleep gun. “I have a working copy here, but I'm not quite satisfied with it. The range is very poor and aiming it is a bit hit or miss. It's one of the devises that is being worked on, I'm currently debating creating something like a dart gun which can fire a small sleeping devise, or a tactical whip for hand to hand combat. Both devises would have to connect to the head to put the target to sleep.”
Mr. Jackson leaned back in his seat, putting his fingers together as he thought. “Start work on the tactical whip idea. When it’s ready I'll have some people test it out.”
“I'll get right on it,” Forte said.
“Now about your shriek and boomers, I'll want ten of both, along with five of your alarms and two fobs for all of them. When can I have them?” he asked.
“It will take a few hours to get the alarms and fobs synced up, and I'll want to give everything a last check. So lets say tomorrow afternoon at one. Will you want me to deliver them, or will you have someone pick them up, I know a good place to do the pickup.”
“Very well. Now about the price, I know how much you charged The Mountain Boys for their weapons. I believe it's a little high.”
Forte bit back a quick retort, she thought she'd given them a pretty good deal. “What were you thinking would be a better price?”
He placed a paper on the table. “You're very new to Phoenix, and my connections tell me you don't know who to talk to or where to go, to make things a little easier on yourself. This list has the names and numbers for doctors who don't ask questions, certain places that have things you will require, and places you can go to hire help. How much is that worth to you?”
Forte couldn't help it, her eyes lit up and her jaw dropped. If it was true, that list was worth everything she was selling today. “That would be useful. As for how much it's worth, are you thinking this will be a one time deal, or would you like a long term relationship?”
He smiled. “Let’s look at the long term.”
Forte's Home
Early afternoon
Natalie took the lid off her batch of sonic metal. She'd have preferred letting it build up a little more, there was a nice layer of ready metal, but it was going to be annoying to peel it from the starter. Unfortunately she needed the metal if she was going to make the alarms. She only had one of the new designs, she'd shown Mr. Jackson, the rest were activated by whistling. She had perfect pitch, so they worked for her, most people didn't have that skill.
Holding a tuning fork over the metal, she tapped it with a rubber hammer, creating a clear, perfect A note. She could have created a devise that generated a frequency of 440 Hz, but she preferred the traditional method, it reminded her of when she still played.
The sonic metal reacted to the sound, cracking and splitting into pieces. If there had been more ready metal it would have formed one neat crack down the middle, letting her peel off two large pieces. Instead she spent several minutes picking and peeling tiny chunks of the finished metal from the unfinished layer beneath it. It was finicky work, and she had to use tweezers to get the smallest pieces, carefully placing each piece and crumb into a metal bowl.
She fed the starter with more foil and sealed it up again. Then taking the bowl of sonic metal, Natalie put it in the middle of her speakers set up, hitting the play button on her laptop. The sonic metal reacted to the harmonics melting into a puddle. She dropped the prepared copper wires into the puddle, and looked away as they began to glow. She'd put in more copper than usual to help make up for the limited amount of sonic metal, it wouldn't hurt the finished product, and might even make it stronger.
Once the copper and metal were done bonding, she divided the metal into four small trays, hooked them up to separate car batteries, and started a new sound program. As Natalie watched the metal vibrate and form itself into tiny rectangles, she winced a little at the thought of how expensive her electricity bill was going to be. Her devises were a little power hungry.
Seeing the process was working nicely, she left her workshop, and collapsed on the couch. Pulling off her pants, she removed her left leg, forcing herself to look at the stump. Her skin was a brilliant red, and the bottom of the stump was developing a nasty bruise. She rubbed some antibiotic skin cream onto her leg, wincing as it felt like thousands of needles were piercing her flesh.
Taking off her right leg, she saw a similar red rashes forming around her thigh. Now that she was actually looking at them, they stung a little. The rash on her left leg must have started a few days ago and she simply hadn't noticed.
“OK, I need a doctor,” she said.
Looking over the contact list she'd been given as a down payment, with a not quite vocalized threat that bad things would happen to her if she didn't meet her end of the deal, Forte called the number simply labeled medical.
A machine picked up, and while it nattered on about health insurance, she tapped in a long set of numbers.
"Morris and Associates. How can I help you?" a young man asked.
“Hello, I'm Forte. I need to get an appointment for my legs,” she said, not quite sure how she was supposed to set up an appointment with a back alley doctor.
“You're a first time patient, correct?”
“Yeah. I only recently came to Phoenix.”
There was a pause and the sound of typing. “Are you free in the next hour? And will you be in an obvious costume?”
Forte looked around, the alarms would take a few hours to form, and once they were done, the program would shut itself off. She really didn't have anything else to worry about. “Yeah, I should be able to get wherever you are by then. And no costume, just a disguise.”
He gave her an address that wasn't too out of the way. “Someone will meet you there. Come alone.”
Thanking him, she hung up, hired an Uber and got ready to go.
Camelback East, Phoenix
Afternoon
Jackalope knelt on the roof of a parking garage watching the street below, looking for Forte.
He could usually find crimes just by following his hunches. He'd been tentatively listed as having precognition when he was a teenager, and years of use had improved it. The problem was it wasn't very good at finding things he really wanted, it was more general, focusing on things that were close by. To find someone it was almost useless.
However he'd found a way to combine his luck manipulation and his precognition. By focusing on something, usually a person, using his manipulation and 'pushing' very hard, he could sometimes get an idea of where he should go. It wasn't easy, and too much of it would give him a migraine, but it had proven invaluable sometimes.
And that was why he was here. Driving around the city he'd felt a pull to come this way, and sitting here it just felt right.
The place was mostly offices with a few small stores on the bottom floor, so there wasn't much foot traffic. Was she inside one of the offices doing business with a crooked owner? Or did she rent a place nearby for her base of operations?
A young woman came into sight walking down the street.
Pulling out a pair of binoculars, he got a closer look. She was limping, clearly in pain from the way she grimaced with every step. And she had a prosthetic arm, a colourful plastic one like he'd seen children and teen amputees using. Could that be Forte? Prosthetics could be changed.
As he watched, she kept shifting her arm, covering it with her left hand, then uncovering it, putting it into her jacket pocket, then struggling to pull it out. She even glared at it for a moment.
He thought about going down to talk to her, or getting a closer look, but decided not to. A hero bothering a young woman, who was having a bad day, and an amputee at that, that would look great on social media. Shaking his head, he decided it wasn't Forte. There was nothing confident about the girl, she looked like a nervous wreck.
Putting away the binoculars he got into his car and started it up. It seemed like today was one of those days where his powers just didn't want to work with him.
Wincing with every step, Forte cursed her legs. It hadn't been so painful when she didn't know how bad the rash was, now that she did, every move was agonizing. She almost wished she had her wheelchair again. The fact she also had the plastic disguise covering her prosthetic arm made her feel even worse. The clearly fake arm was drawing too much attention, she felt like eyes on her and didn't like it.
She came to the place, a large parking garage. Leaning against a handrail close to an elevator, she looked around for any sign of life. It was actually kind of creepy, being all alone in the garage, waiting for a stranger. With her long skirt she really wasn't dressed for trouble either,. Even with her backpack armour, running or fighting in the skirt would be annoying. But putting on a pair of pants would make getting her legs off for the doctor a real pain.
Five minutes into her wait, she looked at her phone to make sure she was in the right place.
Then the elevator dinged and a man stepped out. “Sorry about the wait,” he said, sounding like the person she'd spoken to on the phone. “If you'll come with me, we can get you checked in immediately.
Getting into the elevator, Forte began to hum, her fingers tapping her thigh.
The man hit a few buttons on the elevator and they went down further down than there were floors. They came out in a lobby that wouldn't be out of place at a small town doctors office, her humming got louder.
“I just need to ask you a few questions before Doc Morris sees you,” he said, pulling out a tablet.
“Yeah. Yeah sure,” Natalie said. Her mind flashing back to the painful weeks spent in the hospital not that long ago.
“You said you have a problem with your legs, what exactly is the problem?”
Biting her lip, she lifted her skirt, revealing her prosthetics. “My stumps have a bad rash, and my left stump is developing a bruise around the bone. I didn't feel it until today.”
“How long have you had the prosthetics?”
“These ones, about two months. I've had a few different types in the last year and a half.”
“Any previous problems with these in particular?”
“No. I made them myself to deal with problems like this.” Her fingers began tapping the counter.
“How did you lose your limbs?”
“An explosion. Took my legs and right arm,” she said, through gritted teeth.
The rest of the questions were easier, just her blood type, allergies and similar. Then she was led to a room where a grey haired man in a lab coat, and a woman in scrubs were waiting for her. She had to stop in the doorway, with her eyes closed for a few moments, concentrating on her breathing, before she could step into the room.
“Hello Forte, I'm Doc Morris, and this is my nurse Isabella. Please take a seat on the bed and remove your prosthetics,” the doctor said.
“Yeah. Ok,” Natalie said, taking off her backpack. With tiny steps, she moved to the bed, lifting her skirt as she sat. Her left hand shook as she took off her left leg. Trying to take off her other leg, her right hand spasmed. She got it under control and was able to take it off.
Covering her underwear with her skirt, she revealed her stumps and looked away.
“Do you have a phobia of hospitals?” Doc Morris asked.
Natalie realized she'd been humming rather loudly. “Spent way too much time in them recently. I can handle it.”
“If it gets too hard for you, I can give you a mild sedative to help,” he offered.
“No. I'll deal with it. Let’s just get this over with,” she said.
He glanced at her leg, nodded, then took one of her prosthetics and looked inside. Pressing his finger into the padded socket where her leg went, he glanced at her, then went back to studying the prosthetic. A minute later, he put it back down. “Isabella, can you clean the rashes with the #3 antibacterial cream.”
“So what's the problem?” Natalie asked, staring up at the ceiling.
“Contact dermatitis, caused by a build up of natural oils, sweat, dead skin and soap residue. How often do you clean your prosthetics?” he asked.
“Every night. When they recharge, a devise inside breaks down the sweat, oil and other stuff, I know how to keep myself clean,” she said, feeling a little insulted.
“Not clean enough, there's still traces of oil and dirt in the padding. Were you told about compression socks by your former doctor?”
She nodded, her mind only half on the doctor. The rest of her attention was desperately trying not to think about the nurse who was busy rubbing cream on her stumps.
“Why aren't you wearing them?” he asked.
“My legs and arm mold themselves to fit my body when I put them on. They keep the swelling down and are a lot more comfortable.”
He nodded, seemingly placated by that. “You have three problems. First, you need to remove and properly clean the padding in your prosthetics. Replacing and cleaning them everyday will keep the chances of developing rashes or infections down.”
That would be annoying, it would take a whole day at least to make them replaceable. Still she nodded, a bit of work to avoid painful rashes was an easy decision. “And the second?”
“You need to use more padding. For regular use, you've created a nice design. But you aren't using them in the regular way. If you don't increase the padding by at least half, you'll risk severe injury to your vestigial limbs. You have the bone pressing directly into your flesh, which it isn't designed for. Without the padding, you'll get bruising, internal bleeding and a severe risk of infection. Your remaining leg bones will also lose some density and strength over time. Again, normally not a serious concern, but if you're going to be fighting, jumping extreme distances and other things the baseline human leg doesn't normally do, it raises the risk of fractures and bone splinters. If any of these get bad enough, it could lead to further amputation of your limbs,” he said.
A wave of dizziness overcame her. The nurse grabbed her shoulders before she could fall off the bed. They couldn't cut her like that again. She couldn't go through that again. She wouldn't go through that again.
Doc Morris handed her a cup of water and a pill.
“What's this?” she asked, trying not to drop the cup.
“A very mild sedative. It will help calm you down.”
“I don't want it,” she said, realizing that she sounded like a stubborn child, but she couldn't help it.
He put the pill directly into her hand. “You're on the verge of fainting or having a panic attack. This is doctors orders, take the pill or I'll get a needle.”
Very grudgingly, Natalie realized he was right. Popping it into her mouth, she used the water to wash it down. Almost instantly she felt a little calmer. When she was certain she wasn't about to faint, she said, “You said there were three things, what's the third?”
“Get over your disgust at your disability.”
“What?!” She hadn't been expecting that.
“You haven't once, willingly looked at your residual limbs. From the way you designed your prosthetics it seems you want to deal with them as little as possible. When you wash, do you look at them?” he asked.
“No,” Natalie replied, looking away.
“I thought so. If you had, you would have noticed the rash starting much sooner, letting it get this bad is almost self abuse,” he said.
“It's not that easy.”
His voice became a little softer. “I'd recommend therapy, I can set you up with a person who is very discreet.”
“Tried therapy, it didn't go well,” she said, thinking about the numerous support group meetings and therapy sessions her parents had insisted she go to.
He patted her shoulder. “If you really don't want to go that route, you should find someone you can talk to. Can you at least promise me you will look at your limbs when you wash them?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
“All right, that's good enough for now,” he said. “Do you have anything else you're worried about?”
She shook her head, then remembered something. “Wait. Do you know where I can do some power testing, without the MCO or anyone knowing?”
“We can do that here, Robert will set it all up before you leave,” he said. “I'll let you get sorted then. Take the bottle of cream, rub it on in the morning and at night until the rash goes away. Store it in the fridge, it will last for a year in case you need it again.”
“Thanks,” she replied as he and the nurse left.
She leaned against the wall, letting the sedative work, softly humming to herself. When she trusted herself to move, she slipped her prosthetics on, grabbed her backpack and left the room. In the waiting room the receptionist met her.
“Forte, are you free on the thirteenth for powers testing? You should clear the day for it,” Robert said.
She nodded, just wanting to leave now that her leg was feeling better and she was sure she wouldn't collapse.
“All right, I'll set that up for nine in the morning. Now, how would you like to pay your bill?” he asked, handing her a piece of paper.
Her eyes went wide at the numbers and she felt like fainting again. “Do you take cash?” she squeaked.
Glendale, Phoenix Metropolitan Area
Monday, November 7th
Late Afternoon
Forte was glad to be out and about. She'd spent the last two days in her workshop, with her only real break being a short trip to deliver the order to Mr. Jackson. The rest of her time had been taken up with making her alarms, and then improving her legs. She'd stayed up until six that morning getting the new padding to fit comfortably while still being removable. And she still had to work on her right arm, that was going to be a pain, with only her left arm to do everything.
So after waking up a little after noon, she'd decided to take it easy for the rest of the day. It was time to get a drink, a nice meal, and meet some people.
“Outlaw's Tavern,” Forte said, reading the graffiti . “They aren't exactly subtle about who they are.”
The place was at the back of a run down building, which had a big sign offering cheap office space. It was covered in graffiti and a lot of the windows were cracked, possibly from bullets. This was the kind of place she would have gone around the block to avoid before she'd decided on her career. Now, she opened the battered door like she owned the place.
Stepping inside, she found the interior was much nicer than the exterior. Old country music was playing quietly, the tables and floor were immaculate, and the decor was muted. There was a bar off to the side and a row of stools for the drinkers. A handful of customers turned to look at her, and that's where things got odd.
A man and a woman were sharing a bottle of wine and holding hands. He had a tacky green costume that looked like it was made of hundred dollar bills, while she was wearing armour that looked like it was pure gold. She recognized them from Villains Net, Mr. Green and Carat.
Another person didn't have a costume, but his face was way too handsome to be a baseline, the way his eyes seemed to be made out of flames was another clue that he wasn't strictly normal.
Before she could study the rest of the room, a very large woman got up from her chair. Forte looked up at her, guessing she was about nine feet tall, then she realized that the woman also had four arms, each one thicker than her waist.
“Turn around girl, your kind isn't wanted here,” the bouncer said.
Forte almost turned around and ran for the door. She managed to stop herself and took off her gloves. Holding up her metallic right hand that had glowing yellow lines all through it, she forced herself to smile. “How about now?” she asked.
The bouncer looked her up and down, nodded and stepped aside. “You're good.”
Walking over she took a seat at the bar. The bartender, dressed up in a red vest, white shirt and black trousers, came over. “Welcome to Outlaw's Tavern, I'm Delany, the owner and bartender. And you would be?” he asked, even though he clearly knew her codename simply by glancing at her hand, despite her waist length, red wig.
“Forte,” she said. “You've got a nice place here.”
“Thank you, my customers' comfort and privacy is my top priority. And speaking of comfort, what can I get you?”
“A ginger beer, please.”
“Alcoholic or non-alcoholic? We don't card people here,” he said, giving her a cheerful smile.
“Non-alcohol for now.”
A bottle and a glass full of ice appeared in his hand. Placing the glass in front of her, he popped the cap and held it above her glass for a moment. When she didn't say anything he filled her glass. “Would it be prying if I ask what brings you here?”
“Decided it was time to meet some new people, learn a bit about the community, maybe make some deals,” she said.
“You've come to the right place,” Delany said. “If you hang around here long enough, people will get curious. If you want to leave a message for someone, just ask myself or one of our servers, we'll pass it on, for a reasonable tip. Or if you need someone with a special skill, I can make sure the right people hear about it.”
“For a reasonable tip, of course?
He grinned at her. “Nothing in life is free, except the peanuts,” he said, placing a bowl of shelled peanuts in front of her.
Forte had to chuckle at the cheesy line. She could like it here. Taking a sip of her drink, she was surprised at how good it was, the type she usually got wasn't nearly so flavourful.
Delaney excused himself for a moment when a server with knee length inky black hair that writhed and shifted came up. A moment later a bottle of expensive looking wine and two glasses appeared out of nowhere on the bar.
“You're new to Phoenix?” he asked.
“Yeah. I visited a lot in the past, but now I'm living here. Just the typical small town girl wanting to make it in the big city.”
It was his turn to chuckle. “Since you're here, I wouldn't consider you very typical. Would you like a bit of advice I give most people new to the business? Just a few tips for working in Phoenix.”
She raised her eyebrow. “I thought nothing was for free?”
“Call it a long term investment. The more you know, the more likely I am to get a repeat customer.”
“I can get behind that. Lay it on me.”
“Avoid working with Flame Fist, he has a... thing for young women, and a few have disappeared or died while working with him.”
Delaney's face was very serious as he spoke, with no trace of the cheerful bartender that had been there seconds before. She nodded, and was happy to see the smile return.
“You already know about how important a reputation is, that will save some time. At least I assume that's why you took out The Mountain Boys after they set up your meeting with The Cannibal.”
“How do you know about that?” Forte asked.
“Phoenix supervillains have a precarious position. We have the law on one side, and the very wealthy, vicious and organized cartels on the other. Any independent Phoenix supervillain is either very powerful, very smart, or is small enough to be ignored,” he explained. “For a devisor like yourself, it's even more dangerous. Your skills make you a high value item. You have more eyes on you than you know.”
The ginger beer suddenly didn't taste so good. The Cannibals words ran unbidden through her mind, “You'll probably end up dead or enslaved, but if you survive, the Cano family may have some business with you in the future. Remember this moment, and think very carefully on it when naming a price.” She took another sip from her drink trying to hide her fear.
He must have seen her shudder. “You've already made a decent start at your reputation. People know you have some fight in you, that will help keep a lot of the bottom feeders looking for an easy edge from bothering you.”
“Thanks,” she muttered. “Anymore advice?”
“Always pay your tab. People in your career exist on favours and debt. Cash is good, but a favour can save your life. If you welsh on a deal without a very good reason, you will find yourself with no friends and a lot of enemies. More than one new hotshot has made a deal then broke it for one reason or another. Most of them are in an unmarked grave, prison, or were shown the errors of their ways and paid up. You show you're trustworthy and not stupid, life is a lot easier.”
“So no promises I can't keep, I can do that.” She'd already figured that being an 'honest' weapons dealer was the best way to go, it was all part of her future reputation. It was still useful advice.
“Don't start off trying to take over the world. Selling to gangs and baseline criminals at first isn't a bad idea, it lets you build up your reputation and if things go wrong you can handle it personally. But remember that vengeance is bad for business. Defend your reputation, but think ahead and make sure you're helping yourself, not just making yourself feel better.
“And that leads into the most important rule. Know what you want and realize when you've gotten it. Don't be one of those people who rushes from one thing to another like a toddler with ADHD. And when you've achieved your goal, short term or long term, come here to celebrate, and then plan the next step. People not realizing when they've won, has caused too many disputes to escalate from being something both sides could walk away from, to a bloody mess. Walking away, alive and with your freedom, from The Cannibal is a win. Learn from it, plan for a possible rematch, but accept the win and keep moving towards your main goal,” he said.
Forte nodded. She'd already done that, but it was good advice. Then the tiny voice in the back of her head asked if maybe she had gone too far with the Mountain Boys. She pushed it away, even if she had, it was too late to fix it now, best to move on.
“And the last bit are the basic rules of the bar. Don't lead any heroes here. Don't start a fight, we have security for that. No major crime happens in the bar. You can make deals, talk about your plans, and other things, but if it would bring a superhero and an MCO tactical team here, please go somewhere else,” he said with his trademark grin.
She nodded. “Easy enough. But why don't the superheroes bust down the door and arrest everyone?”
Delaney leaned in close, and lowered his voice a little. “My customers are the type who can break bones by patting someone on the back too hard, sometimes forget that they can shoot laser beams from their eyes while drunk, have hair trigger anger issues and carry weapons that can take out a tank. What do you think would happen if they were getting drunk in a regular bar?”
Forte thought of the armour concealed in her backpack, and her prosthetics. “Yeah, that's a disaster waiting to happen.”
He nodded in agreement. “So I make sure no one does anything too stupid or illegal here, the heroes and police turn a blind eye, and my customers get a nice place to relax, enjoy a drink and have a nice meal.”
Putting a hundred on the bar, Forte stood up with her drink. “Thanks for the advice. If you know anyone who is looking for a devisor, I'd appreciate it if you gave them my name.”
“I'll be sure to do that,” he said.
She went to a nearby table and had a seat, it was time to see how good the food was.
Outside Outlaw's Tavern
Early Evening
Jackalope sat in a doorway smoking a cigarette. He was out of costume, hoping that he might have more luck finding Forte if he was a little less obvious. A hunch had brought him close to Outlaw's Tavern, a place he generally avoided due to the unspoken arrangement between the owner and the side of justice. He wasn't planning on doing any crime fighting, he just wanted to find Forte and follow her.
Across the street, a young woman with long red hair came walking out of the alley leading to the villains bar. Her age, height and location were already pretty good evidence she was Forte, the gloves all but confirmed it. As casually as possible he got to his feet and followed her.
He realized this was well over the line of personal, and he didn't care. He knew it was irrational, but he took the deaths and violence that Forte had caused personally. The memory of the three kids, especially the boy covered in his mothers blood, wouldn't leave him alone. He'd been the first person to see her, and he'd utterly failed to stop her.
She didn't go very far, crossing to his side of the street to wait at a bus stop. He stopped as well, keeping a few yards away and looking at his watch, while he considered his options. If there were more people he could pickpocket her backpack, getting her wallet, phone or some sort of ID. Talking to her was out, he was a bit too old for her and would come off as creepy, and she would probably give him a fake name. He'd have to keep following her and see what happened.
A bus came and she hopped on, he was a few feet behind her.
He watched as she got the last free seat, putting her backpack on her lap with her arms tightly wrapped around it. Pickpocketing was definitely out. He stood while away from her, keeping watch from the corner of his eye.
Ten stops later, he followed her off the bus, then watched as she checked her phone and sat on the bench to wait for another one.
Didn't she have a vehicle of her own, he wondered? What would she do if she needed to make a quick getaway or had to do something at night or where buses weren't running, use a rideshare?
He wished she was being a bit less observant. If she stopped looking around so much, he could try to get her picture and do a facial recognition search. The only photo's they had of her actual face weren't clear enough to do a decent search.
Leaning against a wall, he waited to see what bus she was going to catch next.
Forte stood in the uncomfortably cramped bus, trying not to look straight at the guy following her. She wasn't certain he was following her, but she'd seen him outside of Outlaw's, and then he'd followed her onto two buses. It could be a coincidence, unfortunately in her career she couldn't trust coincidences.
She didn't recognize him, dark brown hair, a tan, an old plain shirt and light blue jacket, he wouldn't stand out in a crowd. So was he from The Cannibal, a friend of the Mountain Boys, working with someone else, law enforcement?
At least he wasn't too close to her. That gave her some options.
The bus stopped, one or two people got off, but several more got on, making it even more cramped. The potential follower got closer to her.
Something needed to be done to lose him.
Squeezing past some people, Forte made her way towards the door, coming to a stop surrounded by men, with a well dressed woman close by. There was another stop, letting more people come on, and her tail was almost on top of her. If she was going to do something it had to be by the next stop.
Very slowly and casually she slipped her right hand through the small space between two of the men. She was barely breathing, planting her feet to avoid bumping into anyone as the bus moved, silently praying the people around her were too lost in their own little worlds to notice her arm.
The bus started to slow down for the next stop.
As the door opened, she grabbed the woman's ass, squeezing it hard enough to hurt, while driving her middle finger into the crack.
The woman screamed in shock, anger and pain.
Whipping her hand back, Forte used the confusion to shove her way through the door, and took off running down the street. From the uproar behind her, she had at least a few seconds to get a good head start.
Jackalope cursed as he watched Forte run away. There was no way for him to get through the confused mess of people by the door, as a woman angrily accused one of the men of grabbing her, while the men proclaimed their innocence. Even if he could get out, he was clearly busted, and even his power couldn't help him.
Ranch outside of Phoenix
Thursday November 10th
Afternoon
Alastair stepped out of the SUV, wearing a pitch black suit. Three of his best men were standing outside the ranch door, they nodded to him, indicating that everything was ready. He wasn't in his Cannibal persona for the meeting, a display of strength to show how little his enemies worried him. It was also a matter of practicality, as he wouldn't fit in the SUV or ranch house in his full size.
His men weren't the only ones there. The Luna and Barrera cartels had their own three man squads at the ready. They'd spent all morning ensuring the ranch was clean and no one was trying to set an ambush. Over a dozen men from all three family's were spread around the property, watching for outside threats. Now that the meeting was about to start the cartel leaders and their enforcers had arrived.
Two more cars came to a stop, they weren't as big as the Cano SUV, but they were almost certainly just as heavily armoured and had force fields. The cartel leaders deserved only the best protection, especially on a day like this, where the three major cartels would make deals, resolve disputes, and deal with potential problems.
Depending on what needed to be worked out, negotiations could last for as little as thirty or forty minutes, until well after midnight. It made the meeting a particularly good target. If the leaders were killed, it would take several days for the cartels to recover. That was more than enough time for their many enemies to take territory, resources and kill more key members. Avoiding this was one of the few things the cartels could agree on.
From the first car a veiled woman in white stepped out. La Llorona had the body of a true beauty, but something about her was repellent, even with the veil that hid her misshapen face. She was also extremely deadly, as Alastair had learned the first and only time they had ever fought in the ruins of the Luna mansion. He gave her a mocking smile, which she completely ignored.
The third enforcer stumbled out of the car. Her stained, rotten rags, that looked like something worn by Asian peasants centuries ago, were almost as disgusting as her greenish-black flesh. she held large Buddhist prayer beads in her hands, muttering to herself in Chinese, seemingly ignoring the world. Without waiting for her employer, The Hungry Ghost headed into the ranch. The nine hardened men, standing guard at the doors unconsciously leaned away from the monstrosity, even the Barrera guards who had to deal with her regularly looked uncomfortable.
The three leaders stepped out and headed for the ranch, each of them had a pair of guards at their back. Alastair fell in behind his employer, Don Cano, who entered the ranch before the others. As the Cano cartel was the strongest of the three, they needed to show power and strength whenever possible, without pushing their enemies so hard it became a war.
The ancient Senor Luna was next, La Llorona was at his side, not quite offering an arm of support to her great grandfather. While the man was frail, his mind was sharp, and discounting him was a mistake Alastair had only made once.
Don Barrera came last, flanked by his baseline guards. His family was the weakest of all, almost destroyed five years ago in the bloody drug war that Alastair had helped start. They'd only survived by somehow making a deal with The Hungry Ghost, and she was no true enforcer. She was a missile they pointed at their enemies and then stood well back as she left a trail of dead in her wake.
The baseline guards took their positions around the front room. The enforcers and the leaders moved further into the specially prepared ranch. They passed a smaller room where The Hungry Ghost had already made herself comfortable kneeling before a wall, still praying. La Llorona and Alistair entered the final room, which had been reinforced with magic, devises and more traditional means to be as secure as humanly possible.
A large table had an assortment of drinks, snacks and fruits, a smaller one was set for the talks. No device or person would enter the room unless summoned, once the door was closed. Sweeping the room one last time for threats or bugs, La Llorona and Alastair left, closing the door securely behind them. They, and The Hungry Ghost now guarded the only weak point.
Alastair and La Llorona ignored the chairs that were set out, opting to stand near the outer door, well away from The Hungry Ghost who was still kneeling in the corner, but had begun banging her head against the floor as she prayed. Both of the enforcers kept a wary eye on the monster, in case it turned rabid on them.
“How have you been, La Llorona? It's been too long since we last talked,” he said, leering at her. While the leaders talked to keep the peace, it was just as useful for La Llorona and himself to share information on potential threats.
Her mismatched eyes looked at him, much like she would a slug. “Things have been quiet. A group of supervillains thought they could steal some of our goods. They aren't a problem anymore.”
“It's been the same for us. Since the law finished punishing Barrera and the rest of us for the murder of Laughing Man,” he cast a dark look at The Hungry Ghost, “life has been boring.”
“I thought you'd found a new play toy.”
He gave her a curious look.
“The Mogollon Monster,” she said. “He was matching you almost blow for blow when you fought him this summer.”
He gave her an honest smile, it was a mild relief that she didn't know of his new interest yet. “He has balls, and some talent. Give him a few years of experience and it will be a good fight. But it's not the no holds barred, life on the line fight I truly enjoy. It's been five years since I've felt that. Maybe we should try it again.”
She removed her veil, revealing a face that almost made him shudder. There was no single thing about the misshapen and oddly proportioned features that made the gorge rise in his throat. But combined, the too wide mouth, the too little nose, the unbalanced ears, and more, was somehow even more unnerving than the rotting flesh of The Hungry Ghost.
“If you want a real fight, monster, I will gladly give you one. I still remember how you ran away bleeding the last time,” she said, giving him a lopsided smile.
He grinned in return. “I remember that as well. But this time your foster father won't be there with a plasma cannon.”
She put her veil back on and walked to the far side of the room. He'd handily won the round, so at least the day wasn't a total loss. Going to the bar he got himself a beer and sat down, seemingly without a care in the world.
Doc Morris Clinic, Phoenix
Sunday, November 13th
Morning
Forte felt a little better about being in Doc Morris' clinic this time. Unlike the last visit she wasn't there to be checked out by doctors, just to get power tested. It was different, and she had chosen to be there, it wasn't for some treatment or problem. She could handle it easily enough.
“Before we start,” she said, “will you send this information to the MCO or DPA?”
Doc Morris shook his head. “I'll keep a file for my records, and provide you with a document of the results with the official seal and paperwork. Simply hand them over to the MCO and they'll give you an MID.”
“So if I don't give it to them, no one will ever know about this?” she asked, wanting to confirm everything.
“That's correct. But it is advisable to have an MID,” he said.
She nodded. “I know, I'm just thinking about my secret identity. How easy is it to fake out the tests?”
“Not as easy as you think, but easier than they would like. If you are worried about your secret identity, I would recommend going out of state to get your MID, and don't pretend to have a different power, that will almost certainly fail,” he said. “Will you try to fake the results today?”
“No,” Forte said. “I want to know what I can do.”
“Good,” he said. “I don't want to waste my time.”
They entered a gym, which surprised Forte, she hadn't expected an underground clinic to be so big. She looked around and wondered what she was supposed to do, or more specifically how she was supposed to do it. Did she keep her prosthetics on or take them off?
“With your disability, most of the regular physical tests would be pointless, and you clearly don't have regeneration, or you wouldn't have gotten the skin rash,” he said. “So the only test we'll do here is weight lifting, with your left arm only.”
“Oh joy,” Forte said.
Three hours of testing later, Forte was looking over the results of her power testing. “So I'm a devisor 4, with a focus on sonics,” she said. “I was kind of hoping for more.”
“It's a respectable rating,” Doc Morris said. “And with your focus, you'll be able to make some very impressive devises, like your prosthetics.”
“It also makes me easy to spot and track,” she said. “How easy is it for a devisor with my type of specialization to shift track into something else?”
He gave her a skeptical look. “Not that easy. For some devisors it's virtually impossible. A few have been able to shift their thinking to something similar to their focus. I know of one gadgeteer who focused on biochemistry, when his interest turned to the environment, it took him two or three years to shift to a more environmental chemistry focus. Similar, but different enough to cause him some headaches.”
“So it is possible, at least.”
“If you want to fake your focus for the MCO test, you will need to work very hard at it. You also don't have much time. If you wait too long, the MCO will be very curious why you waited until you were over eighteen to register,” he warned her.
Grinning with a confidence she didn't quite feel, she said, “Well then, I'd better get started.”
Forte's Home
Late Afternoon
“OK, what is sound?” Natalie asked herself. “It's just vibrations. Vibrations are easy to do, the problem is making sure it isn't too noisy. If they feel it but don't hear it, most people won't think of sonics.”
Pulling out a notepad, she started writing. “A handheld devise that causes vomiting? I could use the basic boomer plan, but make it contact, so it's like a hand held vibrator.”
She crossed it out. “No, that's too much like the boomer, any half decent check will have them wondering why they're almost exactly the same.”
Her eyes went to her arm. “Anything with sonic metal is right out. Too obvious, and I can't bring any with me.”
A new thought rose in her head. “FUCK!” she shouted. “I can't use my arm or legs. Even if I cover them up, they'll probably want to look at them. They are not getting their hands on my limbs.”
She realized exactly what she needed to do, and she hated it. “I'm going to have to buy some regular prosthetics.” She let out a long stream of curses. She tried them before, but they hadn't felt right. She could walk with the legs, and use the arm, but they were clumsy, heavy and uncomfortable compared to her sonic metal ones.
There was another problem with them, they were expensive. Unless she went with the cheapest available, which were practically useless, she didn't have enough money to pay for them. How was she supposed to pay for supplies, basic living expenses, a new workshop, and prosthetics?
“What if I just got a wheelchair and a prosthetic arm?” she wondered. It would save money. She shook her head, she didn’t want to look that helpless.
“Maybe I should rob another bank?” she said.
Her mood ruined, Natalie went to her makeshift workshop to work on her newest project, the tactical whip sleeper devise.
Chandler, Phoenix Metropolitan Area
Monday, November 14th
Afternoon
“As you can see everything is still in good condition. Electricity and water are hooked up, we'll just need a day to get it running. The security system is dated, but the secret entrance will keep most people from even realizing it's here,” Jane said.
She'd decided that it was time to get a proper workshop and had called Jane that morning, using the very helpful list Mr. Jackson had given her. She'd expected someone a bit more cloak and daggers, but the real estate agent was surprisingly friendly and professional. It was more like looking at a house or condo than a supervillains lair.
Forte looked around the dark room. The lighting sucked, but it was solid, relatively clean, and had a large room for a workshop, and a separate living space, about the size of a small studio apartment. For a secret lair it wasn't too bad.
“This is really the only place I have in your price range, Forte,” Jane said. “The other two are quite far off in the desert.”
“It's good,” she said. “But why is it so cheap?”
The woman didn't look very happy that she'd asked, but it was a resigned look, rather than an angry one. “When the lair was constructed in the 1980's, the land above us was for business purposes only. Then the owner disappeared and it was forgotten for over a decade, until it came to my employers attention and they took control of it. In that time there was a zoning change, and a middle school was built on the land. It actually just opened up two years ago.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, realizing the problem. A supervillain hiding out under a school would not look good if they were discovered. It wasn't quite as bad as kidnapping children, but heroes, police, the MCO, and judges would take a very dim view of potentially putting children in harms way.
Still, it was cheap. She also wasn't planning on doing anything that would draw attention to the base itself, and both the main entrance and emergency exit were off of school property.
“You said you had a moving crew that knows how to handle devises, right?” Forte said, making her decision.
Jane beamed. “They're the best movers in the Southwest.”
Outlaw's Tavern
Evening
Forte was sitting back enjoying a ginger beer, letting her dinner digest, watching the very colourful crowd that filled the villains bar. Seeing over a dozen people in costumes, it felt more like being at a Halloween party than a tavern, and she was beginning to feel underdressed. Nice jeans and a sweater just didn't compare to a skin tight outfit that looked like it was made out of fire, golden armour, a silver dress that moved like water, or a beautiful fur collar that actually growled.
Delaney had been too busy to chat much, he did tell her that a few people asked about her, but no one had mentioned anything about wanting to talk to her yet. She didn't mind too much, it was still early days, and she was relatively unknown. Expecting to strike it big right off the bat would only leave her frustrated.
Finishing her drink, she was just about ready to call it a night when a girl with short peroxide blonde hair, came up to her. “Hey!” she said, a bubble came out of her mouth as she spoke. “You're the new devisor right? Forte?
Forte looked the girl up and down, she was dressed for a dance club, in a hot pink, latex micro-skirt and tube top, a lot of glittery makeup and an elaborate glittery pink mask that covered her nose, eyes and forehead. “Yeah, I'm Forte. What can I do for you?”
“I'm Bubbly. My gang and I are planning a heist and we totally need a devisor to help pull it off. Are you interested?” she asked, more bubbles escaping her mouth.
She thought very hard for several seconds on just how smart it would be to follow a girl called Bubbly, who sounded and dressed like a party girl. Then she remembered that between renting a lair for three months, medical bills, buying supplies, and needing to buy civilian prosthetics, she was not only going to be broke, but also in debt. Beggars couldn't be choosers.
“Sure, do you-” She was dragged out of her seat by the surprisingly strong supervillain, and found herself being hugged hard enough for her spine to crack.
“Oh wow! Your arm is solid metal all the way up! That is so cool!” Bubbly exclaimed, grabbing her right arm to take a closer look at it. “Zip said you couldn't be that good, because you don't have a costume, but he's a bit of an idiot when it comes to fashion. I told him you would be great. Come on,” she said, dragging Forte towards the stairs.
Given the choice of following or quite literally losing her arm, Forte followed, snatching up her backpack as she went. She whispered to herself, “What the hell have I gotten myself into?”
They went to the second floor where the tables were spaced well apart with electronic privacy screens muting the conversations and obscuring the customers. They went to the first table, and Forte found herself thrust into a seat, across from two guys. One of them had a bluish tinge to his pale skin and spiky bluish white hair, he had skin tight, dark blue tracksuit and thick goggles over his eyes which worked better than a basic domino mask at covering his face. The other was wearing a tuxedo and had a black mask covering his hair, ears and upper face, a top hat was on the seat beside him.
“Forte, these are Zip and Ta-Da, my partners. Together we're the Triple Threat!” Bubbly said.
Forte resisted the overwhelming urge to face palm and walk away. Maybe they were better at planning than dressing. She'd known a few people who looked like complete flakes, but give them an instrument and they were masters of the craft. Instead she smiled, “Hi. So I heard you need a devisor.”
Ta-Da put his hands together, leaning forward and began to speak with an obviously faked deep voice. “We have a client who wants us to acquire a prototype and destroy as much of their research as possible from a tech company in the city. We already have the talent to get the items quickly,” he motioned to Zip. “I can mesmerize any guards or employees we see. And if we need something broken or run into trouble, Bubbly is more than capable of handling things. But we need someone who can take out the electronic security.”
“How much of a pay off are you looking at?” Forte asked.
“If we get the prototype and destroy what we can, we're looking at a payday of 200k,” he said.
That payout was potentially worth the risk. “What's the company?”
“A start up, Cutting Edge Cyber-Tek. They're doing some cutting edge work on computer technology.” He chuckled at his little joke.
“Do you have the building's blueprints and any information on their security system?” Forte had never planned a heist before, but she'd studied enough that she had an idea of what to look for.
Bubbly reached into a large bag, pulling out a long poster tube. She was practically jumping with glee, while Ta-Da pushed the glasses and bottles to the side of the table.
“Hey!” Zip shouted. “Why are we showing this new person the plans? We don't even know if she's in or out.”
“And you won't know if I'm in or out until I see what we're going to be dealing with and what your plan is. I'm not going to risk going to jail if I don't think we can do it,” Forte said.
“Come on, Zip. This is really uncool,” Bubbly said.
“How do we know she won't take all of our planning and steal the stuff herself?” Zip said.
“OK, say I steal the stuff, who do I sell it to?” Forte asked. “I have zero clue who your client is, and I won't ask for any details about them. I don't have a fence. And the main thing I do with computers in my devises is use them for audio programs. This stuff is less than useless to me.”
“See Zip,” Ta-Da said. “I told you, you worry too much. She's a professional.”
He didn't look happy, but the blue boy at least sat back in his seat and drank his beer. “Fine, you guys like her, I won't say anything.”
Bubbly was instantly smiling again and unrolling the blue prints, which also had a very basic rundown on their security. Forte looked over them for about an hour, as the Triple Threat talked among themselves and occasionally asked her questions. If she had more experience with blueprints, she would have been done much quicker, but since she didn't it was slow, steady and thorough for her. At least her brain seemed to pick up the details fairly quickly, so she understood what she was looking at, and what she saw wasn't great.
“OK,” Forte finally said. “What's your plan?”
“We are planning on hitting them around midnight,” Ta-Da said. “You cut off their alarms, Bubbly smashes the door in. We go in, you use your trick to destroy electronics, I mesmerize the guards, Bubbly destroys anything that looks important. You give Zip a devise to get the vault open, he runs in gets the chip and we're out in a couple of minutes.”
Forte almost walked away. That was the stupidest plan she had ever heard of, and they had failed to read the blueprints or security info. But there was a chance of making this work, if she could make them understand the problems with their plan, and make a completely new one.
“That won't work.”
“Why not?” Zip demanded.
She pointed at the safe. “First the safe is on a timer lock. Once it closes about the only thing my knocking out the electronics on it will do, is keep it closed. You'll either need a safe cracker or some way to destroy it. Bubbly, since you seem to be the muscle, how much can you bench press?”
“Like three tonnes,” she said.
“Yeah, unless one of you can dissolve solid steel, that door is not opening.” She turned to Ta-Da. “Those guards you want to mesmerize will use their cell phones to call police. I can destroy electronics, but not for the entire building in one shot.
“So you're saying it's hopeless?” Bubbly said.
“No, we just need to make a new plan, and I think I have one. How big of a risk are you guys willing to take to succeed?” Forte asked. Despite herself she was smiling as music filled her mind.
Forte's Home
Tuesday, November 15th
Morning
Forte poured herself a cup of tea, and took a sip of the hot liquid, hoping it would wake her up. She'd talked long into the night with the Triple Threat working out the details and keeping their enthusiasm in check. Well after midnight they had come up with a plan that would probably work. It all hinged on one critical detail that she was about to do.
Picking up her phone, she dialed Cutting Edge Cyber-Tek.
“Cutting Edge Cyber-Tek, how can I help you?” a woman asked.
“Hi,” Forte said, making herself sound enthusiastic and a little nervous. “I'm Miss Newman, a student journalist with the Phoenix U newspaper. I've been following your company's work for the last few months, and I was hoping I could write a story about your company.”
“If you'll please hold for a minute, I'll forward you to Ms. Dembele, she's in charge of PR.”
“That would be fantastic. Thank you very much,” she said. It took a few minutes of annoying muzak, before someone got back to her.
“Hello, this is Grace Dembele, and you are?”
“Hello, I'm Valerie Newman, a student journalist with the Phoenix U newspaper. Cutting Edge Cyber-Tek has started making some big waves in the tech field with your new graphene processors. So I'm wondering if I could do an article on your company, and maybe interview one or two of your employees to let our readers know about the next generation in computer technology?” Forte asked, crossing her fingers.
“I'm not sure if that's possible,” Ms. Dembele said. “We're at a critical stage of development, so time is rather tight.”
“I completely understand,” Forte said. “But I think this is very important news. So I'm willing to go whenever it's most convenient for you, morning, lunch hour, evening, midnight.”
There was a pause, and the sound of typing. “OK, you sound enthusiastic, you can come on the twenty-first, at four thirty, you'll get a short tour, and can talk to one of our engineers.”
“Thank you very much! That is perfect for me.”
“Your welcome Valerie. Be sure to be here at four thirty sharp. Have a good day,” Ms. Dembele said before hanging up.
Forte immediately phoned Bubbly, “We're in!”
Chandler, Phoenix Metropolitan Area
Midnight
Forte nervously watched her boxes of supplies and chemicals float through the air, carried by a telekinetic mutant under the cover of darkness. They moved gently from the back of the large box van through the rusty door at the back of a building, and through a secret doorway that was impossible to see when it wasn't open. In a matter of minutes, all of her things were moved into her new workshop.
Her old place was bare, the only sign she'd ever been there were chemical stains on the cement floor, and how clean it was otherwise. She'd left her keys on the counter and a message on her ex-landlords phone.
Closing the doors leading to her new lair, she couldn't help but grin. She'd been at rock bottom a year ago, and now she was rising high, being sought out for her skills, and about to really start working.
Sitting down on her couch, Forte put on her night shirt, took off her prosthetics, plugging them in to recharge, removed the padding, setting it aside to be washed, and put new padding within easy reach for morning. Laying back, in near total darkness, except for the dim light coming from the kitchen, she couldn't wait to see what was going to happen next.
Turning off the last light, she slept like a baby.
A tiny were-wolf like figure moved through the darkness of the alley. Its enormous ears were alert for any strange noises, as it sniffed the air. It had heard the truck a few minutes earlier and arrived just in time to see the last of the boxes float into the building.
Going to the rusty door, it took a deep breath. There was the smell of a woman, but it was strange, it was mixed with copper. Taking another large sniff, it snorted at the faint odour of harsh chemicals. Backing away from the door, it sat on its haunches and cocked its head.
“Who are you, and what are you doing in my neighbourhood?” it asked, its words an almost unintelligible growl.
Forte's Workshop
Thursday, November 17th
Early evening
Forte swung the tactical whip, watching how it bent and flexed. The weapon had a comfortable grip, and forty-eight inches of flexible metal cable, that hurt a lot when swung. She had modified it by wrapping several dozen strands of sonic metal around the metal cable, ensuring it stayed flexible. The grip had a small hole drilled through it where the wires connected to the sleeper devise. Pressing a button on the handle she held the cable in her hand feeling the vibrations numb her hand.
It seemed to be working properly, but there was only one way to confirm it. Laying on the couch, set the timer on her phone, and brushed the whip across her temple.
She opened her eyes, wincing at the mild headache. Looking at her phone, a little over five minutes had passed. Her sleeper whip wasn't as good as her hand or the gun, but it was definitely acceptable. Now that she had a working prototype, she needed to pretty it up and see how durable it was, but that would have to wait.
Moving through her new workshop, she checked on the dozen pots that were growing the starter for her sonic metal. Once they were ready, she'd be getting several pounds of sonic metal each month and she could really start building. A single dome of silence kept the process from being interrupted. A proper work table was covered in speaker parts, wires and other debris, while a large shelf held a few domes of silence, and the easily made boomers and shrieks.
Now that she had the workshop going, she had another problem. Even using as few chemicals as possible, she was out of mercury and most of the restricted chemicals. She had found a few places to buy mercury legally, but they sold it in such small amounts it was virtually useless. Once she was done with her current heist, she'd have to ask around to find a source for chemicals.
Looking at her watch, she saw it was time to leave. Throwing some devises into her backpack, she went to the door and checked the security cameras. Flipping through the cameras, she saw the stairwell, the entrance, and all along the alleyway was clear. Throwing on her shoes and a hoodie, Forte went out to meet her fellow supervillains.
Outlaw's Tavern
Late Evening
“You've finally arrived,” Zip said, as Forte came to their usual booth.
“You're here!” Bubbly shrieked, giving her a hug.
Ta-Da snored, his head in his arms.
“What's up with him?” Forte asked.
“He worked hard last night spotting all the cameras and things in Cutting Edge Cyber-Tek with his brain. He was up all night and a lot of this morning with a headache,” Bubbly explained.
“Did he see anything?”
Zip tossed her a few papers, each one showing the floor plan for one level of the building. There were several dozen little circles drawn on each of them. “Good enough for you?” he demanded.
“These are very good,” Forte said, putting them into her backpack. “I'll memorize them and try my best to have the devises take them out for the main event.”
Bubbly handed her a notebook. “I watched the building everyday this week. I wrote down how many people go in and out each hour, how many security guards they have, when most of them leave, and how often cops drove past.”
She gave the girl a big smile. “Great work. We'll be kicking things off ten minutes after five. I'll be wrapping up the 'interview' around then, and it will be the start of rush hour, so that the police and heroes will be slower. This will help us get a good idea of what to expect.”
“So what will you do about your hand?” Zip asked.
“What?”
“Your freaky robot hand, it's a dead giveaway, and you never wear a mask, people are going to recognize you,” he said.
Natalie almost laughed at the blue skinned, white haired speedster calling her hand freaky. “I have wigs and I know how to use makeup and clothes to make myself look different. And don't worry about my hand, I've had to hide it in more dangerous situations than this. But if something goes wrong, that's why we have a plan B.”
“But why are you going in at all? Why don't we just rush the place?”
“We've been over this,” she said. “We need someone in the building to take out as much of the security as possible the moment we begin. If I'm in there, I can place my devises in the hallways and rooms, that will destroy the power supply, alarms, security doors and cameras. I'll also be talking to people in an open office. As soon as I armour up, I take them hostage and keep them together until it's time to go. If I'm not there, there's a good chance they'll try to escape and get help.
“But if you would rather go instead of me, or have Bubbly or Ta-Da do it, be my guest,” she offered.
Zip didn't take her up on the offer.
“OK, I'm going to order some food, and we can go over the plan in more detail, any objections?” she asked.
Zip stayed quiet, while Bubbly started suggesting what they should order.
Forte's Workshop
Saturday, November 19>th
Morning
Sweat dripped down Natalie's nose and her head ached from the discordant, cacophony of noise that filled it.
Glaring at the stupid pile of junk on the work bench, she resisted the urge to throw it at the wall, she could tear it apart for pieces later. She'd been trying to make something that didn't use ultrasonic vibrations to work, but nothing had worked.
She had devised a knife that acted like an ultrasonic cutting device, it was a lot like what were already on the market, just much better, being capable of cutting through solid steel. The vibrations were silent, but the moment the MCO studied it, they'd realize it used ultrasonic vibrations, and she'd be tagged as focusing on sonic energy.
“Why is this so hard?!” she shouted.
All she wanted was something that didn't use sound waves. It didn't even have to be anything complicated, a toy that walked across a table on toothpicks and somehow kept its balance, would be perfect. Simple, stupid, harmless, was that too much to ask for?
Stalking over to the living quarters, she popped a painkiller, put on some Japanese Wood Flute music, and laid down on her couch. Once her headache went away she'd work on the last of the anti-electronic devises for the coming heist. Tomorrow she would run all of her devises through her cleaner, which would gently shake away any fingerprints they had on them.
**
Cutting Edge Cyber-Tek, Phoenix, Arizona
Monday, November 21st
4:20pm
Forte tried to ignore the weird feeling of having superglue covering the fingers and palm of her left hand as she spoke quietly into her burner phone. It was better to feel weird then to leave finger prints all over the place. “You guys in position?” she asked.
“Yeah, let's get going, I'm getting bored,” Zip said.
“Ready and waiting! This is going to be so cool!” Bubbly said, giggling with excitement.
“Just give the word,” Ta-Da said, his voice squeaking a little.
Nodding to herself, she said, “Alright, cross your fingers.”
Putting the phone away, she gave herself one last look in the reflective glass. She was using her dirty blonde wig again, not too showy and fairly professional, her skin was very pale, with makeup that was a bit subdued, like a student who didn't get out in the sun enough and was hoping to be taken as more than a pretty face. Her wide legged white pants went all the way down to her white flats, and it was topped by a thin white sweater. She also had her backpack with her, she was a student after all. The only thing out of place was the sling over her shoulder which was holding her right arm and bandaged right hand.
Satisfied with her appearance, she walked into the start up and was immediately greeted by a receptionist.
“Hello, I'm Valerie Newman, from Phoenix University, I have an appointment for a tour and interview.”
“We've been expecting you. Just have a seat and I'll let Ms. Dembele know you're here,” the receptionist said.
Taking a seat, Forte waited until the receptionist was looking away, than gently tapped her foot. A small square devise, about three inches on each side and an inch thick, fell out of her pants. Without looking, she used her foot to maneuver the devise behind a potted plant. It wasn't the ideal place for it, but it should be able to destroy all the electronics in the immediate area.
A few minutes of waiting and two people came into the reception area. Forte stood up to greet them, with a nervous, yet excited, smile.
“Hello, Miss Newman, I'm Ms. Dembele,” the well dressed PR manager said. She started to hold her hand out, but seeing the sling, smoothly brought her hand back. “What happened to your hand?”
“I fell and sprained it pretty badly yesterday,” Forte said, using her discomfort she felt at having her hand pointed out, to make it seem like she was embarrassed.
“Oh you poor dear. I hope it doesn't hurt too much.”
“It only hurts if I use it, so I've got the sling to remind me to take it easy on the hand,” she said. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a tiny and expensive recording device. “Fortunately I have my little helper.”
“Oh, no. I'm not sure if that can be used around the office. Carla, can you call security, we need to have them look this over,” Ms. Dembele said to the receptionist.
“But, what will I do for the interview?” Forte asked.
The older woman patted her gently on her left arm. “Don't worry. I understand how important this is for you, if security has a problem with it, we'll work something out.”
Sighing, Forte turned away to take off her backpack, digging around in it she pulled out a much older and cheaper mini-microphone recorder. She'd had Triple Threat scour the city finding it, smart phones and much higher end recorders that could also take video were used by almost everyone. The one she was holding was virtually unheard of now. “I guess I can use this if I really have to. My Dad will be happy I found a use for it at least,” she joked.
“Hopefully it won't come to that.” Stepping aside, Ms. Dembele motioned to the cute young man who looked a little uncomfortable in his suit. “This is Darrin, one of our interns. He'll be your guide and explain a bit of what we're doing here. Unfortunately everyone else is quite busy, so he'll also do the interview. But he'll be able to answer everything, and he'll mostly avoid too much technical jargon, so you're readers will actually understand what he's saying.”
“I'm sure my readers, and editor, will appreciate that,” Forte said.
She saw a man in a black suit arrive. She tried to casually look him over, noticing that his jacket mostly concealed a holstered pistol, and his shirt looked a little blocky, like he had a vest underneath. Ms. Dembele took him off to the side, showing him the recording device.
“Hi, Miss Newman,” Darrin said. “It's great to see more people getting interested in what we're doing here.”
“Please call me Valerie, no reason to be formal with me,” she said. “So they're really strict with security aren't they?”
“We've got some cutting edge stuff here. Companies that are a lot bigger than us are hoping to be the first to create a working graphene processor, we've managed to get a jump on all of them. By late 2018, we'll be mass producing them, and your phone, computer, tablet, everything that needs a chip, will be at least ten thousand times faster,” he explained.
She whistled, that was impressive.
Ms. Dembele interrupted their little chat. “I'm really sorry, but your recorder would break a few of our rules. You can either use your simpler one, or you can just do the interview. Either way we can provide some pictures for your article, including the prototype.”
“I'll take the tour, it's not everyday I get the chance to see the future in computer technology after all,” she said. “But what about my recorder?”
“Security will hold it until you leave. They'll take good care of it.”
Forte gave her a relieved smile, that was one hundred percent genuine. “That's perfect. Thank you very much, I really should have realized that it might have been a problem.”
She only half listened as the woman assured her it was fine, and said good-bye. While it wasn't critical, getting the recorder into security made her plan much more likely to succeed.
“Well now that that's all dealt with, how about we start the tour,” she said, beaming at Darrin.
Cutting Edge Cyber-Tek
5:05
“So Darrin, now that you've covered all the technical information, I'd like to get to know a little bit more about the company and people that make up Cutting Edge Cyber-Tek. What is it like being an employee here?” Forte asked.
They were sitting in a corner of the open office well away from most of the workers. She'd already seen all the parts of the building that weren't off limits, which actually wasn't much. Darrin had quickly stomped on her request to see the actual chip. She wasn't very upset about that, it was in the building, that was all that mattered.
She nodded along, acting like she cared as Darrin talked about the great people, the chance to be on the ground floor of a company that was going to make history, and how it was a dream job. As he talked, she dropped another devise from her pant leg, kicking it under her chair. It wasn't really concealed, but at this point it didn't matter. She'd already dropped two devises in this particular room, and three more in other areas of the building.
“Um,” she looked embarrassed. “Can you wait two minutes, I really need to go to the bathroom.”
He suddenly looked as embarrassed as her. “Oh, yeah, sure. They're just over there,” he said, pointing towards the bathrooms halfway across the office.
Stepping into the bathroom, she saw a woman using some eye drops by the mirror. Taking her right arm out of her sling, Forte tapped her on the head, putting her to sleep with her inbuilt devise. She caught the woman as she fell, making sure she wasn't injured.
Slipping off the sling, she quickly unwrapped the bandage, and took off her wig, throwing all of them in her backpack. The bandages probably wouldn't have been a problem for her armour, but better to remove them entirely.
Putting her backpack back on, she whistled.
The sonic metal poured out and over her backpack, encasing it and her in semi liquid metal. It tore through the sleeve of her sweater, encircling her arm. Tendrils of the metal pierced her pants, bonding to her legs. In a matter of seconds, Forte was ready for anything.
“Let the show begin,” she said.
Darrin grinned, the interview was going great. When he'd been voluntold for the job, he'd thought he'd be dealing with some pasty geek or an airhead, not a cute girl who seemed a bit nervous and out of her depth but was honestly interested in what he had to say. She was probably more interested in getting the best story she could, but he kind of felt there might be a bit of a connection.
Maybe he could ask her out for a coffee.
Leaning forward in his chair trying to think of the best way to ask, he noticed something under her chair.
He picked up a tiny black box, it looked like it had been glued together out pieces of cut up plastic. Holding it up in the air, he loudly said, “Hey does anyone know-”
Before he could finish asking, the devise let out an ear piercing squeal. He dropped it, clutching his ears, yelling in pain. All around him the lights, computers and everything else with wires died.
The security room was peaceful and boring, just how Jorge liked it. There'd been a rumour that they were being targeted by some of their competitors for corporate espionage, and like most rumours it seemed to be a false alarm.
Still he was watching the kid reporter fairly closely. She seemed nice enough, and hadn't even squeaked when he'd taken away her recording devise, but it was always a good idea to play it safe. He'd actually advised against letting her come into the building, and as expected he'd been overruled. The big shots wanted to start showing off their toys.
Fortunately she'd only be in the building for another twenty minutes at most, then everything would go back to running smoothly.
A muffled whine came from the security box. Jorge started to get out of his seat to see what the noise was, when three quarters of his security cameras went dead. The ones that remained showed dead lights and people clutching their airs.
He slammed his hand down on the alarm. He had no idea what was going on, but he was certain he'd need outside support.
The lights went off inside the building.
Zip threw back his hood and ran across the street, dodging and jumping over cars. He was through the door in less than a second and ran right past the receptionist who was holding her ears looking around in confusion.
Zipping through the halls, he made his way to the basement. Taking a devise Forte had given him, he pressed the button and dropped it as he got to the bottom of the stairs. The earplugs he'd bought made the whine only annoying and not painful. The lights in the hallway died, but the vault room was still brightly lit.
He reached the vault and saw that the door was slowly closing. As Forte had expected, they kept the vault door open for easy access during the day, but made sure it would seal if there was even a hint of trouble. She'd also thought it would be guarded. The sight of two security guards raising their guns at him, once again proved she was correct.
Running past them, trusting his speed to make him too hard to hit, he ripped a pistol out of the nearest guard's hand. He stopped just inside the vault, bent down and shoved the gun into the hinge.
A bullet ricocheted off the metal, right where his head had been.
He slammed into the armed guard, knocking him into the wall at over forty miles an hour. A second later, he broke the second guards nose, leaving him unconscious on the ground.
Turning back to the vault, the door was still closing, but much slower now as the pistol was crushed. Taking a second devise from his pouch, he placed it on the vault door and pressed a button. He felt the devise vibrate for several seconds.
The vault door kept closing, and then ground to a halt. The electronic automatic door hopelessly broken, while the contents of the vault were perfectly fine. Finding the right lock box, courtesy of their employers info, he placed a devise on the keyhole and started it. While it picked the lock, Zip took some C-4 and placed it around the inside of the vault, hooking it up to a digital timer.
By the time he was done, the devise had completed its job. Putting it back in his pouch, he grinned, “Best purchase I ever made.”
The chip was right there, he took it out of its box, placing it in a small padded box, and put it safely in an inside pocket, where it wouldn't get lost. Starting the timer, he grabbed the two unconscious guards, dragging them into the hallway where they'd be safe and ran for it.
Forte had told him his job was most important, and for once he agreed with her. He had the goods, now he had to keep them safe. The best way to do that was to get as far away from the area as possible.
“Good luck guys,” he said, as he ran down the street.
Bubbly and Ta-Da ran into the building several seconds after Zip.
As soon as they got through the door, Bubbly opened her mouth letting out a stream of bubbles that quickly covered her. She stood a foot taller than before, and was much thicker. She slid her feet along the floor, riding her bubbles towards the server room.
Behind her, she heard Ta-Da ordering the receptionist to hide under her desk and not to move, in his bossy voice. If anyone came in, he would deal with them.
She passed a bunch of confused employees. As soon as they saw her bubbly form, they quickly found somewhere else to be. She was able to get to the server room really easily, thanks to her exemplar memory, and would have gone right in, but there were three security guards standing guard.
They started firing as soon as they saw her, making her flinch back. But the bullets got stuck in her bubbles, so she didn't even feel them. Raising her arms, dozens of bubbles erupted from her limbs. Wherever they hit got covered in gooey slime. The guards were knocked flat on their backs, and glued to the floor.
Giggling, she moved past them knocking the metal door off its hinges. There were two geeks cowering in the corner. “Everybody out! Bubbly is here, and I've got a job to do!”
The geeks ran.
Spinning in a circle, Bubbly spun through the room smashing her fists into everything that looked important, squealing with glee. Her fun was interrupted when the building shook, and a loud boom came from the basement. A little dizzy, she left the thoroughly trashed server room and headed for the exit.
Forte strode out of the bathroom.
“EVERYONE LISTEN UP!” she shouted, bringing silence to the confused and increasingly scared crowd.
“Get into the middle of the room. If you try to run, I'll have to get nasty,” she said, making her hand glow as emphasis.
Slowly the employees obeyed her. Some were crying, a few looked angry, most just looked shocked and scared. As long as they did what she said, she could deal with that.
“I'm here on a job, but it doesn't involve you. Sit tight, and you'll be able to leave soon.” Kneeling down, she grabbed a plastic baggie that was duct taped to her leg. It was full of nails she'd spray painted a bright glittery yellow.
Gunshots rang out in the hallway, which made the hostages scream and cower. Forte ignored them, she had her job to do and her partners had theirs.
Walking to the door, she took a nail out and jammed it into the wall, leaving most of it sticking out. Circling the room, she put a nail every few yards, until she arrived at the door again. Stepping into the hallway, she snapped her fingers.
“Those are a devise,” she said, pointing at the nails. “They're connected to each other and have a battery life of thirty minutes. If you try to go past them, crawl under them, or do anything that doesn't involve staying where you are, they'll let out a sonic burst strong enough to liquefy all of your brains. So sit tight, wait thirty minutes, and you can all go home tonight.”
Walking down the hall, she kicked down several office doors, and used her inbuilt devise to destroy the electronics in each one. She ignored the people inside, who were mostly hiding under their desks, or calling the police if their phones worked.
The building shook. “Huh, Zip isn't completely useless,” she said.
It was time to go. Running for the exit, she got there at about the same time as Bubbly. Ta-Da was watching the door, while five people, two of whom were cops, were hugging each other on the floor, staring glassy eyed at each other. Looking at the clock, Forte saw that only five minutes had passed.
“Let's go. Remember your escape route,” she said, stepping outside.
Bubbly picked up Ta-Da, and slid away, leaving a trail of soapy slime that quickly evaporated. Forte was impressed at how fast the girl could go.
Going in the opposite direction, Forte increased the energy to her legs and began running. She just had to go a block and she had a place planned out where she could lose the armour and throw on a coat, then she could act like an ordinary girl out on the town.
The pedestrians on the crowded sidewalk gave way to her. Even if they didn't know who she was, a person running faster than most humans could, while in glowing armour, was someone they wanted to avoid.
She was almost at her destination, when a car pulled out of a side road. Somehow Forte was looking in the wrong direction and didn't hear it over a kid yelling about how cool she looked. It wasn't going fast enough to injure her, but it hit her legs and she fell onto the hood then rolled off onto the street.
Forte was on her feet almost instantly, and found herself looking at Jackalope who was coming at her with a raised baton. She managed to get the buckler on her left arm raised quickly enough to catch the blow. She threw a quick jab, mostly to get some space and was glad to see him back off.
“Hi Jackalope,” she said, trying to sound calm.
“Forte, have you gotten any more people murdered today?” Jackalope asked.
“You seem pretty upset about someone allegedly using my devises to take out a drug house,” she said.
“Your actions got a mother killed in front of her three kids.”
That was not what she had expected to hear. She cocked her head, trying to figure out what he meant.
“After you attacked The Mountain Boys, Foot Long went on a robbing spree. Claiming he was going to die, saying you had done something to him,” he said. “Then he went to Clumsy's home, looking for cash. Clumsy's wife and kids caught him in the act, he shot her. I was the first one there. I had to calm down a seven year old boy covered in his mothers blood.”
Jackalope didn't sound like he usually did. She'd heard him often enough on the news, he was usually happy and upbeat. Even when he'd been talking to her the first time, he'd been almost amused. Now his voice was hard, full of anger and hate. She knew that type of voice all too well, she'd spoken just like that far too often after her accident.
“I-” What could she say? Was he even telling the truth?
“So tell me, whose blood is on your hands this time?”
''I haven't killed anyone. What Foot Long did, he did it on his own. It's not my fault,” Forte said.
“You really believe that? You've been in the city for what, a month? And you've managed to get two people killed so far. You personally put another one in a wheelchair for life. What do you think Clumsy is going to do, with three kids, a dead wife, and years of rehab in front of him?”
That hit home. Natalie remembered all too well what rehab was like. Learning how to walk on legs that weren’t hers, that never felt right. Dealing with phantom pain that had made her scream. Trying to do anything without a right hand.
“Am I missing anyone else whose life you've destroyed?” Jackalope asked. “You've obviously been busy behind the scenes, got a few bodies hidden away where we just haven't found them yet?”
He looked at her like she was the scum of the earth. “Congratulations kid, you wanted to be a supervillain, you've succeeded. What are you going to do for an encore?”
Natalie's mind went blank. He might have been lying, but it didn’t sound like he was, and Foot Long had been in a daze when she’d last seen him. She could believe he had done something like that.
She hadn't known or cared where the money had come from, only that she had it. She desperately tried to think of something to say, but the words wouldn't come. If her hand and legs were real flesh and blood, they would have been shaking. Instead she stood as motionless as a statue, trying to bring some control to her mind and emotions. Unwilling to show weakness, and unable to respond.
Jackalope waited for her to say something, anything. When the silence didn't end, he broke it. “Lolomi still thinks you can be saved. He asked any hero who found you to pass this on. If you surrender and tell us everything you've done, who you've worked with or sold weapons to, he'll get you a good plea deal.
“Right now,” he continued remorselessly, “you're looking at twenty years for the armed bank robbery.”
“I wasn't armed in the bank,” Natalie said, her voice weak.
“That armour you were wearing, it's a weapon. You used it to escape, it's armed robbery. They'll probably try to get you on two counts of armed robbery, since you likely had on similar armour the first time. So twenty or forty years in prison already. Seven counts of aggravated assault with a deadly weapon for attacking The Mountain Boys, that's a minimum of five years prison. Selling restricted and illegal weapons, breaking and entry, theft, resisting arrest, whatever the hell you just did, you'll need a very good lawyer if you want to see daylight before you're an old woman. Or you can take Lolomi's deal.”
She noticed that they were surrounded by police. They weren't firing, just keeping the crowd well back. “What's the deal?” Natalie asked.
“You'll be going to jail, but it will only be for a few years and it will be minimum security. You behave yourself, you'll have the option of finishing the rest of your sentence doing community service with the Phoenix Warriors creating devises for them and other heroes.” Jackalope didn't sound happy about the deal.
“That's a pretty good deal, isn't it?”
“Yes it is. The best you're going to get.” His voice lowered a little, becoming a touch softer. “I don't know what you've been through, and maybe you didn't plan for all of this. Maybe you thought this would be a fun ride where you get to act tough and make money. Or you thought it was the only way you could survive. Well, this is reality, people get hurt and die. You have one chance of getting out of this, you turn down this offer, and the gloves come off. You'll spend the rest of your life fighting and running until you end up dead or so deep in jail you won't see sunlight.”
Natalie resisted the urge to stroke her fake arm.
He was right.
She had thought it would be fun and profitable. It would be hard work and dangerous, but that just made it a challenge, she hadn't realized what would happen. Nearly dying to a hit squad, being threatened by The Cannibal. That had been terrifying and painful, almost as bad as what had led to all of this. Being betrayed by Foot Long, that had hurt too.
Natalie thought about Cutting Edge Cyber-Tek. The people had been scared of her, some of them had been terrified. She wondered if she'd looked the same just before she'd lost everything.
Jackalope was right. She did have blood on her hands. Even if the five men had been trying to kill her, she'd likely killed at least one or two of them. And she'd broken Clumsy, leaving him almost as badly off as she had been.
If she kept doing this, what else would she have to do?
“I'll have to give up all my devises, won't I?” Natalie asked.
“Yes. Prisoners aren't allowed to have weapons. Once you get out on community service, you'll be able to create them under supervision, as part of your service, for work and some personal devises. But you'll need to prove you're trustworthy first,” he said.
She was going to lose everything.
Maybe she deserved it.
Natalie pursed her lips together. All she had to do was whistle, and she could get rid of the armour, then accept the punishment she deserved. She could apologize to her parents as well, they had to be so worried about her.
She'd have to give up her arm and legs.
She was going to be helpless.
People wouldn't look at her with pity, they'd look at her with contempt.
The limbless freak who tried to be a supervillain.
No money, no power, no respect.
The failed musician and supervillain.
All of her dreams turned to ashes.
“I'm sorry,” Forte whispered. “I can't accept that.”
Her cannon roared.
Sun Hawk raced towards the fight.
She was cursing herself and her stupidity, wondering how she could call herself a hero. She'd been patched into Jackalopes camera, listening to his talk with Forte. The girl had been so close to surrendering it was infuriating.
But worse than that, she knew where she'd seen Forte before. When the girl dropped the supervillain persona, she had sounded just like that punk from the mall, the one with the gloves. She'd given a name, Pat or Nat, something like that. She'd shut her mouth so fast after saying it, it might even be her real name.
They'd even gotten her picture. They could have had her caught in a few days.
A sonic boom sent a police car skidding across the road as she arrived at the fight. She took a moment to take in what was happening. Jackalope was beating Forte with his baton, striking her arms and legs, trying to keep her off balance, while the girl struck back with claws and tried to fire her sonic cannon. The police were staying back, one of their cars was flipped onto its side, a massive dent had caved in the side.
It was time to take the villain down. Dropping feet first, Sun Hawk aimed for Forte.
Forte swore, her left arm was stinging from the hits it was taking, Jackalope was good with his baton. At least he was sticking mostly to her legs and right arm, they could take the blows. If he'd been aiming for her head, she'd probably have a concussion already.
The crowd shouted, some of them even pointed upwards.
Not knowing what was happening, but assuming it was bad, Forte jumped to the side. Half a second later a golden figure landed right where she'd been standing. The night just kept getting worse and worse.
“Hello, Nat,” Sun Hawk said.
Out of breath and full of adrenaline, Forte didn't react to the name. She knew a distraction when she heard one, the important thing to worry about now, was surviving the fight and escaping, anything else she could worry about later.
Raising her glowing hand, she fired her cannon at the newcomer. Sun Hawk easily dodged it, and Jackalope struck her knee again, nearly making her fall on her ass.
With her power falling rapidly, Forte looked for a way to escape.
Sun Hawk jerked back as razor sharp claws scraped against her helmet. The girl was getting desperate, they just had to keep the pressure on her and she'd make a mistake.
Using her shock baton, she cracked it against Forte's head, staggering her.
Jackalope took the opening tackling the girl to the ground. With Forte on her back, he easily grabbed hold of her left arm, and after almost slicing off his fingers on the stupid forearm blade, got a grip on her right hand. “GET THE CUFFS!” he shouted.
Somehow Forte kicked Jackalope.
Sun Hawk saw the villains leg glow through her pants. It rose impossibly fast, and bent the wrong way at the knee, cracking against the back of Jackalopes skull. He was motionless for a second, then collapsed to the side.
Forte rolled to her knees, trying to get to her feet. Sun Hawk was faster, kicking her in the gut, knocking her into a police car.
Using all her strength, Sun Hawk brought her baton down, going for a head strike. Forte raised her right arm, catching the blow on her forearm blade. The weapon snapped in half.
Off balance, Sun Hawk tried to fly backwards. Forte’s legs glowed again as the girl threw herself into the air, catching her around the waist, bringing them both back down to the street. Sun Hawk found herself struggling to keep the supervillain from clawing her face off.
“Need help! This girls fucking nuts!” she shouted into her radio.
“Let me put you to sleep, you stupid bitch,” Forte snarled, trying to put the hero down. Just scraping her claws against the helmet wasn't working, but if she could get a grip on her helmet, there was a good chance the vibrations would carry over.
She needed to end this fight immediately. Her right leg was sending weird signals, after she practically broke her knee kicking Jackalope. Now she wasn't quite sure where it was at any given second, it seemed to be off by an inch or two. And the longer she fought the more likely another hero would show up.
Trying to shift her balance, Forte found herself falling as her knee was several inches off the ground, when she thought it was touching the pavement. Sun Hawk reacted instantly, throwing her off, and jumping on her back.
Forte found herself in a full nelson, her head being pushed into her chest making it hard to breathe, and her arms were painfuly pulled back and upwards. And then Sun Hawk flew into the air.
Before she could figure out how to get out of the lock, they were at least fifty feet in the air and still rising.
“Lolomi,” Sun Hawk said, practically in her ear. “Where are you? I've got Forte, but she's hard to hold and she's not really subdued.”
She didn't hear the response, but Sun Hawk began flying with a purpose.
“Will you stop fighting, I'm going to drop you,” Sun Hawk yelled, as Forte struggled to get more air into her lungs.
Forte looked down, they were well over a hundred feet in the sky. Even if she wasn't in a metal suit, that wasn't survivable. Hanging painfully from her shoulders, the hopelessness of the situation washed over her. She was going to go to prison. She'd thrown away her one chance at leniency for nothing. They would send her away even longer now, she'd hurt Jackalope, maybe even killed him.
They were going to take her devises away.
She was going to be a limbless freak again.
She might as well be dead.
Then it struck her, there was one chance to escape. It would hurt and probably kill her, but it was a chance. That was all she wanted, a chance.
“Drop me,” she snarled.
“What? Are you insane?” Sun Hawk asked.
“Last chance, let me go.”
“Forte. Nat, I'm not going to kill you.”
Forte forced her right arm back even further, groaning in pain. Twisting her hand she pointed it at Sun Hawks head. Using a fraction of its power, she fired the sonic cannon at point blank range. She caught part of the blast on the back of her head. The focused sonic boom almost broke her neck. For a moment she didn't know which way was up, she was seeing double and only knew she was falling. She saw a golden figure plummeting towards the ground, limp and lifeless. That snapped her mind into focus.
Spreading her arms and legs, she flipped around so she was facing the ground. She was going too fast, and not coming in at enough of an angle. Pointing her arm at the ground, she had just enough time to charge her cannon.
She fired it at full blast.
The shockwave hit the pavement and was reflected back on her. She'd been falling at an angle and the blast cushioned her fall slightly before throwing her back and to the side, so it wasn't instantly fatal. Forte hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. Something snap inside her. Her helmet slammed into a curb cracking a lens. She wanted to scream as agonizing pain erupted throughout her body, but blackness overcame her.
“Oh my god! Are you alive? I've called 911, just hold still and don't move,” a woman said.
Forte looked up, she was seeing triple and her body felt numb. She moved her legs, the feedback was weak, still they seemed to be working. Trying to move her left arm made her shriek, fortunately her right arm worked.
“Don't move, you've probably broken your back,” the woman insisted. “An ambulance is coming.”
Ambulance... An ambulance meant police. She was going to be arrested.
Gritting her teeth, Forte raised her right arm. “Help me up,” she said.
“No, I told you-”
She tensed her arm, the sonic cannon sparked, the glow flickered momentarily before steadying. It was weak, but it was working. Pointing it at the woman, she said, “Get me up, or I'll kill you.”
The woman gasped, moving a few steps back. “Please don't hurt me. I was just trying to help.”
“GET ME UP!”
The woman came back. Even with her vision fading in and out Forte could tell she was terrified. Getting to her feet with the woman gripping her upper left arm, was excruciating, she almost bit through her tongue to avoid screaming. Her right leg didn't want to work. Looking down, she saw her foot was sideways, and her hip looked oddly disjointed. Trying not to throw up from pain, she asked, “Do you have a car?”
“Yeah. It's yours, just don't hurt me.”
“You're driving me- out of here. Get me- into the back. Cannon can kill. Don't run a-way.”
They limped to the old car which was still running, close to the small crater Forte had left on the road. Getting into the back made her shriek in pain, but her hand remained pointed at the woman. As soon as her hostage was in the drivers seat, Forte laid down, whimpering in pain. “Drive, get us out of here. Go somewhere quiet.”
The woman looked at the glowing hand, and started driving. She was speaking, something about her family, Forte didn't care, she was too busy simply trying to stay conscious. They drove for a while, it might have been five minute or five hours for all she knew. Finally Forte had the strength to speak again.
“Find an alley or something. Somewhere out of the way.”
They came to a stop a minute later.
“Please don't kill me. I did everything you asked.”
“Go to sleep,” Forte said, brushing her hand against the womans head.
She whistled, removing her armour. The movement made her shriek again, she came to the edge of passing out. Desperation pushed the darkness back.
She wanted to just lay there. Maybe lose consciousness. That would make the pain go away.
“Can't stop now,” she told herself, gritting her teeth so hard it felt like they were going to shatter.
Gutting the pain, she reached into her backpack, pulling out her phone. The screen was badly cracked, but it was usable, her armour had protected it from the devise earlier. Thankful for small mercies, she found her location, then tried to remember the number for Doc Morris.
Slowly and painfully she dialed the number.
She ignored the fake spiel, tapping in the sequence of buttons that would get her to the doctor.
"Morris and Associates. How can I help you?" the person asked.
“Forte here. Injured. Need pick up,” she said.
“Are you currently being chased or around witnesses?”
“No. Out of armour. In car. Owner asleep for a while.”
“What's your location?”
She gave it, and a description of the car.
“A car will be there soon. Stay out of sight.”
She let the phone drop, and drifted into unconsciousness.