Wally and Dale decided to go back on patrol, and Simon was going to join them. I held his hand and asked him to stay with me until Greg and Sarah got back from their studies at the college lab during the quiet season for the facilities.

Simon was extremely uncomfortable, so I offered him a drink by waving a glass at him from the kitchen. He shook his head. “I’d rather not drink right now.”

I shrugged, which wasn’t easy with a hole in my shoulder. “Hey, suit yourself. I was kind of hoping you would talk to me, though. You’ve been acting depressed a lot lately, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m hogging the spotlight or—”

“No, Terry, it’s not you. You’re doing just fine as the team leader and flagship member of this team.” Simon sighed and looked away. “But, maybe I don’t want to be on the team anymore.”

“Why?”

“I can’t say,” Simon insisted.

(more…)

Although I hadn’t been in pain after the treatment, I didn’t go on patrol again for another two weeks. I spent a lot of time with “team building exercises,” which is a mature way to say we went out to play, or to crash bars and see exactly how much money it would take to break the bartenders’ moral convictions.

There was no point anyway, as the patrols we made could have been more accurately described as wandering aimlessly through the city. The police chief had been right, and our reputations as killers made the villains less willing to stay in City. The population of criminals had diminished to one third of their total numbers now that the game had lost its carefree charm.

In short, City was starting to look more like San Francisco in the years after The Rocket went insane and started killing villains indiscriminately. City might have looked the same way after The Rocket moved in, but he’d been defeated by Wallace, Leona, and then killed by Duggan. His final mad decline was covered in my dad’s story, so I won’t bother recapping it with too many extra details.

In this new crime-free silence, the East End Boys were honoring their truce. Our only real problems were caused by the other superheroes.

(more…)

My week had been going well when the East End Boys pulled themselves together for their next attack early one morning. We weren’t exactly patrolling at that hour, either.

No, we’d had major victory the night before against The Ghoulmaster, and we had partied all night long, passing out in the bar booth. We’d all woken up with stiff necks, and we were just then patrolling in search of any place open at that god-awful hour for breakfast and coffee.

Instead of a diner, we found the East End Boys. Then our day went sliding downhill so quickly that the basket we were riding in caught on fire. Then of course, the basket fell into Hell.

Our biggest problem was that the East End Boys were no longer affected by my “zeroing out the room,” or a small pocket of the air around us. We didn’t get to dictate the terms about the location, but thankfully it was so early that no one was caught in these temporary pockets of perfect cold.

But while the villains could move, they couldn’t use their energy attacks. They could still punch and kick well enough, and they hit harder than jackhammers.

When I turned back up the temperature, I found them able to use their powers, but I couldn’t zero out the room without putting Dale and Wally at a tactical disadvantage. And once the guys stopped moving, their opponents went to work on me instead. That’s three grown men beating on little old me, and all of them hitting harder than heavyweights.

Yeah, not good. That kind of abuse would make any day suck, but I was hosting a motherfucker hangover —that’s a scientific term, by the way—and taking an ass whooping every time I tried to pull off my best trick.

Obviously, I gave up on using it so the guys could take their fair share of the ass kicking.

(more…)

I woke up drunk and staggered to my window to stare with bloodshot eyes at the desolate grey clouds hanging low over the city. I thought of the people who had died of hypothermia because of me, and my chest became hollow.

Chet had refused to give me the actual number of casualties for fear of making the situation worse, so I wasn’t sure of how badly I had messed up.

I absently rubbed my throat while I searched for some sign of life beyond my room. But nothing moved under that cold, bleak sky.

I heard a soft knock on my front door before it opened.

“Terry?” Chet called.

“I’m still in my room,” I answered, turning toward my bedroom door.

Gasping when Sarah opened it instead of Chet, I crossed the room like a gunshot and leaned against her.

Sarah’s arms slipped around my waist, and I closed my eyes to fight against the urge to cry. “I missed you,” I said.

“I missed you too,” Sarah whispered, kissing the top of my head.

(more…)

When I got home, I sat on my couch with my head still weaving daydreams over my return home; plans that included wearing out my boyfriend, and possibly most of the furniture in my cabin.

I debated calling David right then, but I thought it would be better to wait until I knew for sure. No use getting his hopes up for nothing, right?

I guess I passed out, because it was six o’clock when I woke up to the sound of someone knocking on my door.

I smiled at Wally, grabbing my keys and locking my door before letting him fly me to Morgan’s lab.

Morgan was standing behind the chomps as soon as the elevator door opened, a smirk stretching his deformed lips.

“Please tell me that smile means what I think it does,” I said as I knelt down to pet the chomps. Mitsy seemed to slink away from me while Fluffy cuddled with me for a moment before backing away respectfully.

But Morgan was still silent, and it was starting to annoy me. “Can you cure me?”

“I think we can,” Morgan said. He glanced at Mitsy when she hissed and slithered away on her stomach instead of rising up on her tentacles.

(more…)

I had a massive hangover the next day when I finally woke up. The commissioner had paid the bounty for all of the Sugar Gliders, along with a bonus for Dale’s “sculpture.” You may think I’m joking, but the museum sealed the body in preserving enzymes, and it became a part of the regular display the same day.

Yeah, that’s how weird City is.

The museum even asked Dale to make another statue…using City’s illustrious mayor. Of course, that may have to do with his cutting their funding that year.

Needless to say, we turned down their generous offer.

Anyway, we went to this one little cantina that’s a known dive for the city’s villains, and let me tell you, that place was empty the second we walked in. We had to hunt down the bartender and band to drag them back in, but the night went pretty smoothly after that.

(more…)

Simon waved to everyone before leading me by the hand out of the bank. No one waved back. They were still too stunned by Simon’s performance to do anything but stand and stare.

How strange we must have looked as we made our exit. Me, a rather bland looking girl who appeared twelve, walking hand in hand with a boy who seemed nine or ten at best, and even then he would have to be called a runt. We were both dressed in plain clothes, and neither of us looked the least bit threatening.

I got over my shock only a few steps out of the bank. What Simon had done was strange, sure. But I was so used to strange events that this didn’t have the power to render me speechless.

Thus we were only a half a block away when I started laughing. “You didn’t need my help at all. You just wanted an audience.”

Simon’s eyes twinkled with merry glee as he nodded. “It seemed like a fair trade for the line dancing seminar you held at Petey Pest’s Pizza.” Chuckling with a wickedness that seemed wrong for his voice and his body, he added, “I haven’t seen anything that funny since Lil’ Joe’s record release party.”

(more…)

I went to Wally’s shop as soon as I woke up and changed clothes. I didn’t bother with showering since the hole in my side would make it into a task too complex for my liking.

I was hoping I could get some news on my nanites while I picked up extra cans of healing spray. My open wounds ached, and I had trouble just walking because I was still only breathing with one lung.

Despite my poor condition, Wally took me to breakfast first. I ate four eggs and half a dozen sausage patties like I was starving, and we talked about the fight the night before, and about the odd appearance of a boulder in the rock pile. We could think of no logical answers for how it got there, so we pushed the matter aside for another time and went to the lab.

I knew Morgan wouldn’t have any answers for me just yet, but I still felt nervous as Wally and I rode the elevator down to the lab.

The chomps greeted us at the door, and Fluffy nuzzled me affectionately, putting some of his body weight on me and straining my wounds.

I noticed that Fluffy seemed smaller than he had been on my last visit. But more than that, his body was much lighter than I would have expected. He certainly hadn’t felt so light last time. It was like he was now just a furry balloon.

(more…)

It took us forever to get to the pizza parlor because we let Dale pick the place he wanted to go. We also let him take the lead, so of course we got to there about a half an hour after we left Wally’s shop.

Still fuming over being teased, I was silent for most of the trip. Wally and Dale spent that time discussing the better vegetable to go on pizza: pepperoni or chocolate chips.

To be honest, Dale did most of the talking while Wally stared with an expression of morbid fascination.

My mood improved once I’d had a few slices of pizza, and I was even smiling when Dale pleaded for permission to go play games.

He took off and Wally chuckled, shaking his head at me. “Okay, you like him for what reason?”

(more…)

When I woke up, all of my skin had returned, though I was covered in thick white scars that burned. Dale stood over me, and I had again found myself on the same table. The blood had disappeared from the room, so I was fairly certain that all my parts were back in order.

I grabbed a canister of healing spay from Wally and practically showered in it, sighing with relief as my pain was reduced to a minor itch.

My second “nap” had lasted three hours, and in that time Dale had adapted to his collar quickly. Dale stood beside me, waving his arms excitedly as he described his first trial flight with a collar.

He finished and stood panting the middle of the room, his eyes glowing. “Flying is neat,” he decided at last. “I think I could look everywhere at once.”

(more…)