The Adventures of "Fish Guy" (Superhero fiction)

[Hermit]

There were also some tools at the store, and I put them to good use. I'm training for Civil Engineering at college, which if you know anything about engineering, means I am not some Star Trek engineer like in TV who always seem like they build or adjust anything. Fortunately, even outside of official academia, I had been given a few lessons by Mabel, who was herself a machine, and Lady Obsidian who actually is closer to a 'she can do it all' type of Engineer as well as a brilliant scientist. Heck, even some of the things my dad taught me about car mechanics came in a bit handy, though I tried (and failed) not to think of my dad.

 

Mister Martinez insisted on helping a little, and gave his word that he wouldn't betray any trusts. Frankly I'm not sure he learned enough to have the chance even if he wanted to, but he had skill. Between the two of us, we got things done. Well, we got stage one of things done.

 

The way I saw it, the cameras were the key and now was my chance to make them work for me. Not the Miscreant cameras, though I felt a bit guilty for not expanding my plan so I could help the team. But rather the cameras I suspected were set up by Ophiotaurus. This could be touch and go. Weight, balance, placement, all important; but of course, the big rule was don't get caught doing this.  

 

Ophiotaurus was hiring folks to humble the gods. I'd been compared to a god before, or more accurately, told I was playing god. Hell, if my growing suspicion was right, I owed Pinprick a beer  or five for figuring out things years ago. But I had a lot of angles to cover, and couldn't leap to conclusions even if the few pieces I had made perfect sense to me. But first, I had to make sure I caught one of his cameras before the Miscreants were defeated and the reasons for the camera withdrew. 

This might boil down as much on dumb luck as focus and planning.

The one place I was pretty sure there'd be one of the cameras I needed, would be Channel 3. Did I trust the rookies to rescue the hostages without needing me? Hell, I was about to use them as a distraction. This wasn't exactly proper. I took time to slip back in the base and change ouffits. Instead of my trademarked Eel costume, I had switched into a gray leotard with mask.  It was a weak means to hide both super and secret identity but anything that reduced signs I was still on the hunt worked for me.

 

Bramble was here, but I avoided her location, and knew OUR Camera placements enough  to do so. I even did a double check to make sure I avoided any hanging ferns.

 

If it seemed like my plans were sloppy and disjointed, that's because they were. I had about three paths to take, and I still wasn't sure I was taking the right one first. I knew one thing, I didn't trust myself to hold back. Not yet. Not while my emotions were still a jumble once I was in combat.

I'm not a killer, but some part of me really wanted to make an excuse if I caught Ophiotaurus, especially if he was responsible for my father paying for my choices. Coincidences runs rampant in the superworld,  but that doesn't mean I have to trust them.

 

"What the hell am I doing?" I muttered aloud to myself.

 

"As your friend, with some expectations formed due to past shared experiences, I'd say you were about to do something noble but foolish," The voice was not quite human. Then, neither was Mayo. The mystic sea dweller who was as pale as snow and blinded so he had to see by auras rather than light had met me in a dream at first. He was a reluctant soldier for a foul force who ended up  as one of the best allies I ever dreamed of. And one of my wisest friends. 

I saw him and I felt a surge of relief amid the inner turmoil, I felt hope not for my mission, but for me, and I felt very, very glad he was here.

 

So naturally, my first words to him personally were "Mayo? What the hell are you doing here?" I gaped at him. While a soldier turned mystic, he actually looked a bit like a superhero, in that over his pale flesh, at least in parts, was a navy blue costume but with runic stitching of silver along the sleeves and leggings. He also had a water filled glass mask over his nose and mouth, much more advanced than most diving equipment, and, of course, pumping water into his lungs.

 

"The currents of destiny as ever pull at you, Caleb of the Surface world," He intoned, and put a hand on my shoulder gazing with his unseeing eyes into my own, "once more, greater powers than either of us draw us together so I may advise you in this, your most difficult hour. Such is the way of magic."

I gave him a long look, then said "You realize that sounds like a load of crap right? I mean, a really huge load. I think I've faced one mystic threat recently and beyond that, not much. If destiny is calling, I think it has the wrong number."

A tilt of his head, "Fine, would you believe Ariana sent me a few messages letting me know you could use a 'guy friend since both of you were without your usual support. She feared you were missing them as much as she missed her confidants and pestered me repeatedly. I thought of, what's the term? Ghosting her?"

I winced "Oh she'd hate that, and possibly make you pay."

"I told you before I'm not a hero, Caleb," He smiled with gentleness, "Nor am I recklessly brave. I don't want on her bad side. Besides, you are my friend, and your aura is blazing with pain. You need someone to talk to."

 

"I need to keep moving or I'll curl up and quit for real," I told him, pretty sure that if I had even one beer in me right now I'd break down and cry on his shoulder, "And you could have just told me Ariana had sent for you instead of the greater powers cover story."

"You love her. She loves you. We both care for you. That is a greater power, my friend," He nodded, "So you see, what  What I told you told you was true, from a certain point of-"

I held up my hand, and he stopped. I'm not sure how auras told him I had made that gesture but he picked it up anyway as I said, "Don't do that. I don't no how, but they'll find out, and they'll sue." 

"Don't do what? And who are you talking of," For the first time he seemed perplexed.

 

"Nevermind, I don't know what I'm doing.  I just know that I nearly killed a man  and... my dad  he.... I need to stay busy," I actually felt my eyes threatening to grow wet. Maybe i should have used the damned therapist, because I was starting to think the beer count didn't matter, "I can't talk to Ariana about it , now when they need at least one functioning leader. She'll try to save me while doing it all and.... I won't do that to her. To them. Sorry, I'm feeling weak now."

"The passions you are struggling with are not weak, Eel," The mystic shook his head, "I know your cultural upbringing has you cautious about opening up, but you might as well with me. I wasn't lying about your aura. TALK to me my friend. While we move, if you insist, but talk. My mystic senses already see the tears, they just haven't left your eyes yet."

"Well," I choked a bit, "That's just rude."

And then? I told him.
Did I mention I really don't like mystic stuff?

****

 

[BoloOfEarth]

My curiosity is really piqued about what Eel was setting up at Hobby Wood.  And I think I need to quickly re-read Part Due to see if I can figure out who Ophiotaurus might be before the big reveal.  

 

I was *really* happy to see Mayo return in this latest installment.  I always enjoyed his and Caleb's friendship, and know Fish Guy will benefit from Mayo's wisdom.  Maybe this time we'll get to see Mayo strut his magic stuff?

 

I like the tongue-in-cheek Star Wars reference (though I had to look it up to truly get the joke).

 

No real suggestions come to mind.  Good job.

[Tom]

36 minutes ago, BoloOfEarth said:

My curiosity is really piqued about what Eel was setting up at Hobby Wood.  And I think I need to quickly re-read Part Due to see if I can figure out who Ophiotaurus might be before the big reveal.  

 

I was *really* happy to see Mayo return in this latest installment.  I always enjoyed his and Caleb's friendship, and know Fish Guy will benefit from Mayo's wisdom.  Maybe this time we'll get to see Mayo strut his magic stuff?

 

I like the tongue-in-cheek Star Wars reference (though I had to look it up to truly get the joke).

 

No real suggestions come to mind.  Good job.

I’ve got a pretty good idea  who Ophiotaurus is, but I’m curious about Eel’s hobby project as well. 

[BoloOfEarth]

1 hour ago, Tom said:

I’ve got a pretty good idea  who Ophiotaurus is, but I’m curious about Eel’s hobby project as well. 

 

Just did a quick re-read of sections of Part Due.  I think I have a good guess who Ophiotaurus might be as well.  But I'll hold my tongue and not spoil it.  If I'm right, I've got to say kudos to Hermit for laying the groundwork so well.  And points to Pinprick for calling it.   

[Hermit]

"You know," Mayo said, looking with blind eyes at the beer in his hand, "I don't really like these things."
"Just hold the can while we talk," I told him holding my own which I had barely sipped. You would think a guy who was almost born for ocean depths wouldn't show when he'd been crying but I was pretty sure my face had betrayed me by being splotchy.

"Because among your tribe, the carrying of this allows a man to share his feelings freely and with no shame?" Mayo inquired as if taking notes.
"Pretty much," I told him.
He rotated the can in his hand and made one of his comments, "For a man who is weirded out by mysticism, you certainly do engage in some very odd ceremonial rites and even fetishism."
Mayo couldn't see me shoot him a dirty look, but I trusted my aura was bristling appropriately to get the point across, "Don't lock this bridge."

He sighed, "I am sorry to mock, friend Caleb. I thought that you are hurting, and sometimes, not always, humor can be a balm where logic or supposedly wise words fail."
"Not going to tell me how this isn't my fault, not really. How I made the right choice? How I couldn't know my dad would get cancer years later after I threw away the cure?" I had told him everything, and mostly he had listened, "Not going to tell me I'm retreating into some crazy solo action in order to hold onto what few ideals of right or wrong seem solid?"
"I'm not in the habit of repeating, others no, though sometimes, it is a comfort to hear someone else say them. Do you need me to?" he asked.
"Nah," I said taking a light sip of the beer, then I paused, not really so certain now that I thought of it,  "Maybe. I don't know."

"You made the right choice at that time as best you knew with what little power of choice you were allowed. I know you. You are forever searching for ways to give of yourself," He tilted his head at my direction, "You do not gracefully accept your limitations. This has sometimes let you go beyond the realms of sense and into the realm of heroism."
"Thank you," I said cautiously, "I think? I mean, it almost sounds like you said the key to my victory was idiocy."

He gave a thin smile, "either that, or I was saying your moments of idiocy have made your victories all the more impressive," Before I could decide whether that was better or worse, he went on, "But let us not dwell on that. Let us instead dwell on the fact you are a good man who is not used to being powerless, and even then you try to do what is right. You try to do what helps. And you despise when the only choice is not between what might help others more, but rather, what will do the least harm? You were put in such a choice, and you made it. You carried the guilt for it,  and picked lightly at that wound. The fact it happened to your father has merely cut that improperly open wound wide open again. It is gushing. Logic, reason, even truth itself, are not going to heal you. They may sting and do you some good so the wound is cleaner this time, but it must heal on it's own."

"Yep, that sounds truthful, and not helpful," I told him glumly.
"How about this then? I give you permission to hurt. I give you permission to give yourself permission to hurt. It is not my place too, but as logic has failed, then allow me to absolve you of the crime of being a person." He sat the can down, "You want suggestions? Talk to your father when you can. Tell him of your feelings. If he is as good a man as you? He will set you right that there is nothing to forgive, and then forgive you anyway. Talk to Ariana, who loves you and feels helpless to help you. Talk to them and trust them not to think less of you." A pause "if it helps, bring your aluminum  can fetish."
I snorted and winced, "I really wish you wouldn't word it that way."
"The metal is soft," He went on poking at my own can now, "We could mold it into the shape of a dollar sign like that object your god was slain on before returning."
"Cross" I corrected, "He died on a cross and..." I stopped and gave him a look, "Was that a social commentary dig meant to distract me from my emotional crisis?"
"Not necessarily," my fellow water breather said with exaggerated innocence, "But if it was? Did it work?"
I smiled despite myself. I needed to smile just a bit, and it almost hurt to do so, "I'm not going to reward you for trolling me. Not when I have so much to do."
"What do we have to do?" He asked and I noticed I'd had my choice of pronouns corrected.

"I need to steal a camera from the bad guy, then then after I tinker with it a bit, release it back into the wild as it were. I need to question a few sources who are in the henchmen for hire business, and I need to find a man, " I told him "I'm just not sure which order to do in is best."
"Who do we need to find?" He inquired.
"The guy who was there when the choice was made and chewed us out for it. The man who had the cure in his hands before we surrendered it. The guy who accused of playing Gods as if we were above the rest of humanity. One Doctor Bench. And currently, he's on the top of my list as the real name of the villain calling himself Ophiotaurus."

 

"I remember him," Mayo nodded, "Yes, he would be a good candidate."
"I just wish I knew how he had advanced so quickly in a mere two years. I mean, yes, he was a leader in Cancer research, but the things he'd have learned about not just us, but some tech outside his specialty so fast? Revenge can drive a man, but even there, if I'm right? How did he learn of all these villains in order to use them? How to contact them? Where they were?"
Mayo pondered this , then his blind eyes grew a bit wider, "Eel. If you're right. I don't think it is your doing, certainly not chiefly. I think it falls more on Doctor Salem and myself."
"You taught him magic? THAT quickly? Come on." I snorted.

"No, but we did shield him in the Balance, a place where time and space are open, infinity cascading into finality. A place where one can see it all and..."
I remembered the Balance, how your focus could send you thousands of miles away, or make you feel up close as a spider on the wall. It was dangerous to over reach yourself, something Dr. Bench would have been told. But maybe Doctor Bench and I were more like than I wanted to admit. Would I risk my sanity for the knowledge I thought I needed for Justice?
God help me, yes. "learn very quickly, if it doesn't break their sanity," I finished.
"Or even," Mayo pondered, "Even if it does. Yes. We warned him  not to open himself up. We thought he had listened. I came to help you because you are my friend. Now, I must insist for more selfish reasons than that. I once told you you should thank people for letting you save them. Please, let me help save you."

I looked at him "And save Dr. Bench?"
"If he can be saved," Mayo turned his head away, looking ashamed, "I am not sure he can be. Please, Eel, Caleb, let me help before his attempt to heal the world spreads and kills more than superheroes."
"I'm not going to understand all of his until the dust is settled, am I?" I asked even as I answered.
"Maybe not even then," Mayo told me "May I please save you, Caleb?"
"Yes," I put a hand on his shoulder, not sure what I was agreeing to. I only knew that he was feeling the same guilt I was now. Maybe on some level a far less selfish version of it. "yeah, you can save me."
He patted the hand on his shoulder, "Thank you."

 

[Hermit]

Living proof how weird my life is, I was going into the lair of my most hated enemy. By that, I meant News Channel 3. How many times had I wanted to take one of their news vans and fold it like a lawn chair? 

 

Not while anyone was IN  the van, of course. That would be murder.

Yet I really did have a a strong dislike for these sensationalist muckrakers in reporter clothing. They hadn't just trashed me, but every superhero who tried to help the city. They stoked anti-Super sentiment, and played so fast and loose with the facts it was almost an art form. I wouldn't want them harmed, but I admit, the fact they were bound and gagged right now wasn't inducing a lot of sympathy. Finally, someone had found a way to shut their anchorwoman up.
Of course, for all my mental carping (No pun intended) if any of them got badly hurt or even killed when I could have rescued them, I'd feel like dirt. But rescue wasn't the goal.

 

It was sabotage. I did my level best to evade the Miscreant drones and cameras they'd taken to using while searching for one that would lead me to Ophiotaurus. In theory, anyway. Mayo was with me and it may have helped my sanity, but it threw my tactics off. Mystics do not like giving a list of their powers. Heck, some deny having powers. No, it's stuff like "I have the knowledge arcane."

 

Dandy. Can you measure that in foot-pounds? Wattage? At least give me some Twinkie size comparisons; I've seen it done in movies! Nope. Even my buddy Mayo insists on being cryptic.

 

"Are you sure this is the safest path to our goal?" I whispered as we moved through the hallways, "I mean, we're looking for a drone camera of the sort you've never seen before but you said this is the way we need to go," I didn't point out that Mayo didn't know the layout to this building any better than I did.

"I've read the portents of the currents of chance as best my knowledge arcane, allows, Eel," Mayo informed me, "The best chance  lays on this path."

"If you're sure," I said cautiously. The halls we took were at least dark. I have an  edge in the dark though I don't advertise it.

Mayo sighed at my skeptical stance, "If you know of another mystic in the immediate area and would like to get a second opinion, I can write you a referral."

"Sorry," I winced. Okay, I had that coming, "Hey, what happened to the ornate Chinese style robe with Greek designs and that scrimshaw torc you wore? Why back on the breather?"

"I'm holding them in reserve," He whispered back, a touch melodramatically I thought, "Like you, I decided to do this not in costume so I could throw many enemies off to my regularly chosen identities."

 

I resisted the urge to point out that as a snow white obvious non human, I had serious doubts as to how much a 'he could be anybody' trick this was. Then I realized it was possible Mayo was having fun with me.

"Fine fine," I muttered, "I'll shush and search..." Then my eyes pierced the darkness and saw what I was looking for. In the corner at the end of this hallway looking down the hallway to the side was one of Ophiotaurus' drones, "There" I whispered, "now, to attach this with out  being noticed, this could be very very tricky."

Mayo nodded and extended a hand, the shadows in the hall took on vague shapes that one couldn't be certain of , and, the camera held.. still. Could a machine be mesmerized?  I didn't have times for these questions, racing forward and behind it, I hastily used the glue I purchased to affix the tracker I had taken from my communicator. It was a long shot, but when the drone returned to it's homebase, It would be my own little trojan horse into his gates.

That was the idea anyway and it seemed to work. I did the deed, backed up. 

 

Mayo was frowning.

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

"I sense approaching auras, one filled with resentment, bitterness, and lust, the other... terrified," Mayo answered as he rubbed at his arms as if fighting a chill. 
I turned an ear that direction, and tried to make out noises.

I heard a muffled sound, and saw a woman bound and gagged being dragged along by a very visually unpleasant individual. The woman looked about my age, her outfit professional screamed office assistant. While she was gagged, I could still hear the muffled cries of terror  as she flopped helplessly but unable to shake free of her assailant as he continued to pull her along.

 

The man? One should not judge by look, but the guy was ugly. Asymmetrical features, tuffs of coarse hair all over his body. And he was pissed.

"You're just not miscreant material, Scruffian. You don't have the sex appeal," He was talking to the terrified woman, "I helped break into this place and then, just to keep the drama going, they fire me on the show. " Scruffian pawed at her causing her to visibly flinch, "That seem fair to you? don't I deserve something?"

This time, she tried, to no effect to scream louder, choking at the end as she broke out in sobs behind her bindings.

I did NOT like where this conversation was going. I had wanted to plant the tracker, back out, but no plan was worth this. I just hoped I didn't kill the guy. I took a long quiet breath, and began to sneak closer.

Which, of course, is when a hurtling human locomotive wreathed in fire came charging through. Scruffian turned from whatever he was planning to do and caught a flaming fist on the chin! The flames made it look awesome, but it was the velocity of the powered punch that sent Scruffian into the wall with a resounding WHAM!

I was proud as hell. That shot was a textbook example of speed, precision, and power. There was no hesitation and no self doubt. 
Then she turned on me, "Your turn!" She declared.
The shadows I'd been hiding in were gone, cast aside by the light of the flames around her form. I was exposed. And I was not in my usual Eel jammies. She thought I was a bad guy!
Well, yippie, my 'disguise' was working.

 

[BoloOfEarth]

"Could a machine be memorized?"  Or did you mean mesmerized?   (Did Auto-Incorrect rear its ugly head there?)

 

I'd suggest adding a bit of how the woman hostage was reacting to Scruffian - screaming behind the gag, struggling, looking terrified.  Or was she unconscious?  If the former, a bit about her reactions would help build the tension.

 

Other than those two minor hiccups, another good installment.  I especially loved Trailblazer saving the day while simultaneously screwing up Eel's plan, and am really looking forward to how this plays out.

[Hermit]

8 minutes ago, BoloOfEarth said:

"Could a machine be memorized?"  Or did you mean mesmerized?   (Did Auto-Incorrect rear its ugly head there?)

 

I'd suggest adding a bit of how the woman hostage was reacting to Scruffian - screaming behind the gag, struggling, looking terrified.  Or was she unconscious?  If the former, a bit about her reactions would help build the tension.

 

Other than those two minor hiccups, another good installment.  I especially loved Trailblazer saving the day while simultaneously screwing up Eel's plan, and am really looking forward to how this plays out.

 

Yikes good catch.

 

I'm afraid the other day I hit a bit of a block, writing wise. I want to do closer to 2000 words a day, instead I managed half  that today, but weak progress is better than nothing. 

 

[BoloOfEarth]

4 hours ago, Hermit said:

I'm afraid the other day I hit a bit of a block, writing wise. I want to do closer to 2000 words a day, instead I managed half  that today, but weak progress is better than nothing. 

 

By "weak" I hope you're referring purely to your word count.  Better to put out 1000 words of good content as you've done than to produce 2000 words of crap.

[Hermit]

On 11/14/2021 at 12:16 AM, BoloOfEarth said:

 

By "weak" I hope you're referring purely to your word count.  Better to put out 1000 words of good content as you've done than to produce 2000 words of crap.

 

I meant word count. I wasn't impressed by my last bit mind you, not the best I've done. But I have edited in your suggestion and that helped both.

[Hermit]

In my career, most of the fastest speedsters I've seen have actually been villains. Tornado is grace and power, agile as hell, but he's not the fastest guy in the air compared to other speedsters. He supplements this 'lack' (Though he's still a whirlwind compared to the rest of us on the team) with with some martial arts skills adapted to flight. After all, when you don't have to worry about standing on the ground, you can kick and punch pretty easily. 

 

Trailblazer wasn't near his league at accuracy or agility, but she was still damn quick and the plain truth of it is, for every punch a guy like me landed, she got down three. So the passage between her informing me I was next, and then making me next was now. As if... she sad it on the N... and hit me on the ow!

 

I didn't just stand there, of course. My attempt to weave out of the way was what led to her getting a blistering strike to my thigh rather than the flaming punch to my family jewels! I suppose that was a fair and just shot, considering she was probably thinking I was about to aid Scrufian in his sexual assault attempt of an innocent woman rather than the sneak attack on him I'd really been winding up for. 

 

But it was still a near thing. Less than a half second difference and I would have been singing 'Chestnuts roasting on an open fire' possibly in soprano. There was no performance anxiety here. I imagine part of it was whatever tune she was listening to helping her not to overthink it, but I suspected another large factor was righteous fury! 

 

While athletic, she's not super-strong, but the speed at which she hit me added more than enough  power to make sure I felt it. Worse was the flames! I can shrug off low caliber bullets casually, heck, I've waded through shotgun blasts with a smile. Fire goes a lot further and hurts a lot more. I registered the force of the punch, the heat of it? That's what caused real pain. And she was already coming in with an uppercut. 

 

This disguise had backfired, it was time to talk, "Trailblazer, stop, it's.."

 

Eel's not a big word: One syllable, three letters. I have been told I talk too much in fights, but always prided myself of talking quick enough (by Southern standards) to have my say. As Trailblazer's uppercut struck my jaw square and blazing, actually lifting me off my feet, I realized in my fast, furious, and flaming apprentice, we'd found someone who shut me up.

 

Not only did the combination blast of fire/uppercut lift me up, I bit my tongue! The fire hurt the most, but the latter was definitely insult to injury! Adding insult to insult, I swore I heard a Girl Power song playing as she did it! Entirely possible given her approved playlist.

 

I landed on my ass, and said something like "Sthopf, iz me, Eeeel!" which she did not seem to understand in the slightest! What she did understand was that I was tough, and taking her hits well. I  could see it in her eyes. She'd decided then and there that she didn't need to hold back anymore.

Again, I felt a flush of pride. She was really on her game today, accessing her foe so quickly. Rather than talk, I decided it was time for something she might not expect. No clever words now, or even not clever chatter, from my sitting position I kicked out and downward, not at her, but at the section of floor she was standing on. If she suspected this was coming, she'd be able to move to the side!

 

Luckily for me, youth and power will never defeat slightly older power and treachery! Especially when gravity decides to join in on the treachery. The floor boards beneath her broke wide open, her forcefield and my thick hide protecting each of us from the flying debris, but not providing her with the gift of flight. Down she went through the rookie sized hole. Her friction field would protect her from such a short drop as one floor down.

Confirming that, I heard a light thump, and a blue streak of curses that I never suspected she knew. An idea came to me, and I grabbed the still out cold Scruffian, and dropped him down after saying "Thith ith yours"

 

My tongue was obviously still swollen, but as I heard another blast down there , and I wasn't the target, I was pretty Scruffian wouldn't be getting up again for a few hours at least. Normally I might give a speech about hitting a downed opponent, but given my swollen tongue, Scruffian's attempted crime, and the fact Trailblazer had rated well on respect for life, I trusted she wouldn't kill or torture him.  It just wasn't in her nature.

 

Wondering where Mayo had been through all this, I turned and got my answer. He was freeing the Channel 3 employee from her bonds. She was understandably shaken, and frankly, Mayo doesn't look human so despite his liberating her, she pulled away as soon as she could, turned, perhaps to run only to face me. My generic low budget ninja look was further diminished by the fact it now had burn marks on thigh and chin. 

 

"Please, don't hurt me," She whimpered. 

 

I said as gently as I could "Nubudy vill hurt oo.. go outhide to.." A swallowed, trying "Nobody will hurt you, the good guys are here and coming in force. Go outside to safety, but move quick." 

 

I did not need to tell her twice. She actually moved in a pretty impressive sprint down the halls and to the stairway.

 

And I? I grinned, "Did you see her? Did you see that?" I asked Mayo, who, if he was feeling offended at not being thanked, didn't show it.

 

"Who, the employee I just unbound? Yes, she makes good speed," he nodded.

 

"Not her," I said with a scoff, "Trailblazer! Did you see how on her game she was? She took out Scruffian with one punch and kept going to her next target-"

 

"That next target being you," He pointed out.

 

"Not important," I waved it off, feeling too proud to dwell in the petty details. Indeed, I was positively filled with a pleasure of a sort I'd rarely felt. Trailblazer had been one of two problem children for our group, and now she was showing her true potential!

 

"It feels important," Mayo observed, "You're injured."

 

"Feh," I waved it off, "Nothing a shower won't speed heal. She was so timid and and unfocused just a short time ago, but she nearly paddled my ass and hung me out to dry just now." As we talked I kept moving with him to get out of the building ourselves.

 

After all, there was a very fast, possibly still angry, flaming woman who might be coming up here any second (literally) for a rematch. Now that I knew the New Samaritans were here, and my little adjustment to a certain drone was underway, it was time to keep moving. 

 

Didn't stop me from gushing though, "And she was gauging the effects of her blows. Upping them as needed! At the same time, not a single accidental fire about. Now that is control!"

 

Mayo's unseeing eyes turned my way, "Friend Eel, you are almost revoltingly pleased with yourself. If Pride were energy, I could use you to jump start one of your land vehicles."

"Not with myself, with her," I corrected him, "This was her progress," Then I confessed, "Okay, I am proud to have helped her get there. And Valerosa would be too if she saw what I did. Heck, Lady Obsidian would smile at that performance. She's the one who saw the potential in the woman and got her the booster."

Mayo smiled a bit "it is possible your mentorship has paid off, yes."

"Yeah,"  I smiled, "It wasn't for nothing."

"Well, if it makes you happy, gush on," Mayo allowed with a gentle tone, "I hope when the time comes to take an apprentice of my own, which maybe many years, I can find as much joy as you have in it."

"Oh," I remembered what Dr. Salem had once said, "That's right, every mystic's duty at least once in their life."

"Just so," He agreed, "Of course, I plan to take just one, certainly just one at a time, unlike your small group."

"Ah ,they're all good guys," I said, "Even Hussar is coming along. You wait. After this program, they'll be fighting crime with the best of them, saving the day whether they're in a team or struggling solo."

 

"Hopefully they will be a part of a team though?" He inquired.

"Yeah," I had to agree, "as a rule, doing it on your own can only go so far in the hero world. Some threats are just too great for one man.  Hitting it solo when you don't have to is kind of dumb."

Mayo stroked at his chin like a proper wizard, even if he had no beard, "Yes, for example, to hatch a scheme of plans behind the scenes hoping to catch the mastermind at a time when you are shaken to your core? Probably not a wise idea to do THAT alone."

I shot him a dirty look, "My aura is glaring at you now. Just wanted you to know."

"I endure this dire situation with fortitude and zen," he replied looking a bit pleased with himself "What is next?"

"Next? We talk to some seedy unpleasant type," I told him.

"Pinprick is back already?" He asked deadpan.

I laughed. Weird as it was, nearly getting my ass kicked by one of my own students had been almost therapeutic. Dad's situation was still needling in the back of my mind, but, it wasn't ALL that filled my world. I don't know if that was a selfish thought or not but the pride in Trailblazer still lingered anyway.

[Hermit]

"I think I dislike this part of your plan," Mayo muttered to me.
"Sorry, Buddy, but you're a bit conspicuous in or out of costume," There, I said it, "you're not human, or at least, not the boring mainstream version."
"Ah, so I am a victim of profiling," Mayo shook his head sadly, "I had heard of this but did not expect it to come for me."
I raised a brow and hope it showed as a crinkle in my aura or something, "While it's great to see you're catching up with surface culture, I hope you're pulling my leg?"
"Why would I seize your limb?" he asked confused.

"You know what profiling means but you don't know what pulling my leg means? It's a figure of speech," I explained, "It means you're faking in order to have fun with me."
"Ah, I see. Perhaps," He grudgingly confessed, "I do worry about you going in alone to find this goon you were told to seek out. Particularly since your disguise while well set, is not perfect."

I had seriously considered shaving my head or trying to at least dye the hair, maybe trying to mess with make up to make my complexion look different. But I didn't want to lose all my hair yet, thanks. And I wasn't good enough with make up or dyes to really pull off the other stuff. Instead, I had raided Tornado's room and borrowed a few things which I pay for if they got damaged. Chiefly? A wig, shades, and , god help me, a mustache. I looked up a video on applying such things, and was soon done. The effect was not perfect. I ended up looking like a young Tom Selleck imposter but it did obscure my real identity. 

 

Honestly, I didn't think anyone in this place had the chops to tear off my mustache or wig, so I wasn't too worried. Yes, it's arrogant, but the odds of a genuine supervillain in this little henchman hiring hot spot was low. Most supervillains with any connections at all ended up in better places than this, or a super-prison like the Tank. Or as Pinprick told me once "Five stars or prison bars."

"I'll be okay," I assured Mayo, "And yes I still need you in case something does go wrong."

"I cannot read aura's accurately from out here," he frowned behind his rebreather.

"Yeah, but I know the target looks like. Who knows, maybe I can talk him out here close enough for you to get a read on him?" I tried to mollify him. Here was a back alley that smelled of vomit, beer, and trash. The building it was connected to? Well, it looked like a degraded and dirty sports bar that had seen better days; and it was. It was also a major hiring area for muscle of the non powered kind. These were the guys who, for the right price, were willing to wear some want to be mastermind's goofy uniforms and shout the slogans while waving the blaster you hand provided around. Need some skulks and sneaks who would report to you or call in if they saw a superhero closing on your secret lair? Some of those too. And yeah, you could get hackers or techie types if you were very lucky. Far from brainless muscle, much as I might scowl at their lack of morals, these guys were not desperate. Or at least, they were not just desperate, they were tougher than your average scumballs and had some useful skills.

"mmmph" My mystical friend thought about, "Very well, but remember what you said to me. I would be allowed to take part. You gave me permission to rescue you."

 

"I remember," I nodded.  And in this, I don't think he was joking. Mayo had a unique perspective of the universe, a way of seeing things from angles many of us wouldn't consider. I guess that's one reason he'd been picked as Salem's apprentice.

"If you weren't blind," I continued, "I'd ask you how my mustache looked."
At that, the touched the new fixture to my upper lip, "Well, I don't 'see' it no, but if it were a Sea anemone, I would worry it had caught ill."

"Thanks," I responded dryly, "Wish me luck and stay hidden."

"Good fortune, friend," He nodded and backed away.

 

I slipped into the the goon hangout and scoped out the place through the thick shades I wore. A half dozen heads glanced my way, some openly, others more circumspect. For my part I took the advice I'd been given, and acted like I belonged here and had been here before. You'd be surprised how well staying calm and acting like you belong in a place and know it can work for you. I went straight to the bartender, a scrawny kind of guy, who had tattoos all over his body, mostly of spiders and snakes but a few skulls, and, oddly, a poinsettia flower that didn't seem to fit the rest of the theme. 

 

"Beer," I said. He poured a tap and handed it to me cavalierly and jerked a thumb to the prices on the chalkboard behind him. I paid him, threw in a reasonable tip on top of it, and looked around as casually as I could. The place had, ambiance, I'll give it that much. Almost everyone here had a hard scrabble made good look. Or maybe the proper term would be made bad but successful enough? A few were getting on in years, and the wear and tear of facing the forces of the law had taken their toll on them, yet they were still here, not in prison, at least not now, and that counted for something in their world.

 

I could respect their 'can do' attitude, if it weren't for the 'did do' criminal lifestyle.

It was interesting to note that some conversations, the ones who hadn't died, were about my team. Most specifically the new trainees, and their current test against the Miscreants. To my surprise, they were rooting for us.

"The Miscreants? Now there's a reality show that should have been canceled after the first three years," One shaved headed guy grumbled.
"They're working the system, I'll give them that, " A guy with a pink COEXIST shirt and a machete attached to his belt shrugged, "Win or lose they make money."

 

"Yeah," came a gravely voice from one of the few women in the room, "But they draw too much attention. And they don't hire local, when they do they treat us like we're supposed to fetch their drink orders. Bad for our economy, gets the supers riled, and then they run like chickens**ts leaving the cops eager to throw ANYONE in jail they can find to appease the town council. I hope the New Samaritans kick their asses."

"Oh the old team would take the Miscreants down no problem, these new guys? Not sure so sure..." another person joined in.
"Oh hell, the new ones have more to prove. Trust me," said an old timer, "The veterans are easier to deal with. They know we're small fry, some rookie will go after you like you shot the president and forget about the big fish."
This started a bit of a side discussion on  which heroes were better to get your assed handed to you by. I was a bit amused but I really needed to focus.

Finally, I got a glimpse of the one who fit the description of the man I wanted. I figured I'd try the friendly approach and see how it played out. He was one of the few guys there in a suit. Mind it was an off the rack, seen better days, I had to wonder who he rolled to get it kind of suit, not some tailor made high end thing. He looked like he tried to shave, but it was irregular, leading to a rough 'what o clock is it?' shadow on his face. I was no expert on hats, but I think that was a porkpie type on his head. I glanced at his own nearly empty drink. Yeah, that was the guy, or at least a guy who fit his description-The man known as Clamdigger. 

 

Honest to god, when Tornado gave us that suggestion as a contact, I thought he was having fun at my expense.

 

I turned to the bartender, "Another beer, please." Of course I had barely touched mine so he got the hint and gave me a new glass. I paid once more then, with two beers in hand, sat down next Clamdigger like we were poker buddies "Hey, Clamdigger, there you are. Long time, no see."

See how subtle I was?

 

Clamdigger's eyes ran over my face, searching his own memory, and perhaps trying to decide if he wanted to rip my mustache off.  Instead, he took the offered beer, "Very long," Almost agreeably, "How's tricks?"

"Not bad," I answered, gratified when most prying eyes grew bored and turned back to their original conversations, "I got lucky. A guy passed on a his poker winnings to me as a favor. See?" I put the poker chip down. It was pretty standard, except, of course, for the magic-markered T on the side. 

 

Clamdigger's eyes went wide, and he gave a look to the windows and door as if expecting Tornado to break through them any second. Seeing that wasn't the case, he continued our charade, "Ah, that old thing. Come on, let's got to my office" He offered but I noticed he took the chip as well as his beer ,and lead me into a private room in the back for either more detailed information and open talk, or an ambush.

 

Either one was entirely possible.

 

[BoloOfEarth]

The first installment today (the fight with Trailblazer) had some genuine LOL moments for me.  I particularly liked "and hit me on the ow!" and "Pinprick is back already?"  I really enjoyed that, with the caveat that you don't want to do that too much or it kills the tension you're setting.  (Not saying you overdid it, just providing a word of caution.)

 

Nice thug and goon hangout.  It wouldn't be Rose's Bar, by any chance, would it?    Sorry, I used that hex map so much it's held together with duct tape and Champions players' tears.

 

 

 

 

[Lawnmower Boy]

On 11/7/2021 at 11:09 AM, Hermit said:

odd curious but not entirely warm edge as she looked away from the camera and at Tino, "Are you saying I was easy

Fake mustache? I have no words.

[Hermit]

3 hours ago, BoloOfEarth said:

The first installment today (the fight with Trailblazer) had some genuine LOL moments for me.  I particularly liked "and hit me on the ow!" and "Pinprick is back already?"  I really enjoyed that, with the caveat that you don't want to do that too much or it kills the tension you're setting.  (Not saying you overdid it, just providing a word of caution.)

 

Nice thug and goon hangout.  It wouldn't be Rose's Bar, by any chance, would it?    Sorry, I used that hex map so much it's held together with duct tape and Champions players' tears.

 

 

 

 

Ha. In my champions setting, Rose's is a coffee joint. But nope   Not Roses.

Fair warning about humor over use. I knew I was cutting it close, but the idea of Eel dropping Scrufian down the hole after Trailblazer so she wouldn't lose her victory tickled me. 

2 hours ago, Lawnmower Boy said:

Fake mustache? I have no words.

 

[Hermit]

Well, if it was an ambush, it was taking it's sweet time. I followed Clamdigger into that private room. I figure it must have once been a surplus storage space, too big to be a pantry, too small to be a proper bonus room.  It was tight, which surprised me, because there was really no exit to get out except the door we came through, and I figured Clamdigger was the kind of guy who tried to keep an exit for himself. Then again, I had just met the man.

 

It was spartan enough, there was a small table with two plain wooden chairs, a stool in a corner in case of a third person. Solid brickwork made up the walls here, and the main source of illumination was a lamp that swing from a precarious chain but provided a steady if weak light. 

 

Clamdigger motioned for me to take a seat, which I did, and he took the opposing one and looked me over, "Tornado sent you, huh?" Then he took a slow sip of the beer I had bought him, "He's getting awful free with my services, passing it around like that."

"From what I hear, it's not so much services, as a solid you owe him," No Tornado had not given us details on how the debt was acquired, but I wasn't going to tell Clamdigger just how ignorant I was but I knew it wasn't a one time trade off, so I added, "A lot."

"Pretty cocky for a guy who has mustache misaligned," Clamdigger grumbled, then eyed my beer, "Take a drink, already. I don't trust a man who won't drink with you. I don't many who do, but meet me a third of the way here."

 

I sipped obligingly. I didn't think it was likely the bartender had spiked it. Of course, two seconds after I sipped, it occurred to me there was a slim chance Clamdigger had. I didn't think he had, but there was a chance. Paranoia is less a mental problem and more a lifestyle in the spandex set. 

"Happy? " as I set the drink back down after sip.

"Dripping with joy," He said and I detected a sardonic note in his tone, "What do you want?"

"I'm looking to see if any science types are hiring themselves some minions, new villain, not much of a rep yet I would imagine," I began.

"Minions? Seriously?" Clamdigger raised a brow while scratching the stubble on one side of his chin, "Why not lackeys, perhaps you prefer it old school, and care to refer to them as knaves?"

 

I nodded in faux understanding, "I see I may have hurt your feelings. Look, I try to be open minded, and defer to folks' sensibilities, but would you really prefer I call them 'scumballs for hire', 'criminal punching bags', and it gets worse from there." Maybe any other day I'd try to placate, but despite my pride in a student, news of my father had put finding the politically correct term for leg-breakers at the bottom of my list.

"How about just 'the talent'?" Clamdigger proposed.

How about I take this poker chip and shove it where the sun don't shine? I thought, but did not say. I raised a brow "Probably won't stick for me. Let's move on?"

 

"See, this is why I prefer to deal with Tornado himself, easy going, affable, has the common man's touch, not some yokel who thinks he can hide his accent under a fake mustache," Clamdigger snorted.

 

For a second, I froze. I had been trying to down play my accent, years on the California coast had helped dim it, or so I thought, but even with immersion in the Pacific time zone and conscious effort to hide it, Clamdigger had picked it out. I instantly grew a bit more respectful, not of 'the talent' out there, but of his talent.

 

"Fine," I said, still stubbornly refusing to slip into my normal speaking voice. I had done interviews after all, if he had that good an ear and the knowledge to back it up, best not to confirm stuff, "Do you have any scientific mastermind types looking for local talent?"

"Sure do," He nodded, "What do I call you anyway?" Clamdigger asked "I know you won't be giving your real name, you're that big an amateur at this, but since we're getting all mannerly now, heyyou seems rude."

 

I wasn't sure HE had been that mannerly, but decided not to press, "Marlowe" I answered.

 

Clamdigger gaped at me, then broke into a laugh, "Right. Okay you got points there, Boggie, sure, I'll call you Marlowe. If nothing else to honor your taste in pulp books."

 

I was tempted to bust his chops and burst out 'it was a book too?' but I figured there was no point in antagonizing him, besides, the yokel comment rankled and why perpetuate the idea that just because I had a bit of twang in my voice I never read a book.

 

"Thank you, Clamdigger," I said, "Now, you said 'sure do'?" I was hopeful.

"Yeah, like five of them, all hiring," he told me.

"Five?" so much for polish, "There are five scientific masterminds in Costa Sagrado, all hiring NOW?"

"Mastermind is often a self bestowed title, Marlowe" He explained, "And while I wouldn't scoff at it, scientific genius is a lot more common than defying gravity through will power, or even innate super strength. Lot of folks these days seem to take science classes just so they have a shot at being evil masterminds, and some heroes too."

 

I hadn't considered that. I briefly imagined some of my fellow students in my science and engineering classes cursing at their mounting student loan debts and the red ink on their papers snapping into a 'I'll show them, I'll show them all' kind of rant. The sad thing is, a few of them made really good candidates.  I refocused on the here and now.

"This one would be a specialist in medicine, genetics, biology: not that he would necessarily advertise it," I decided to risk it, "Goes by Ophiotaurus?"

There was a pause so pregnant, I was sure we had gone past the due date. Clamdigger's poker face was good. I didn't see surprise, upset, anger, or relief. Only the pause itself gave me a clue that something was wrong or at least a factor. I should have waited, but thinking of Ophiotaurus, made me think of Dr. Bench, thinking of Dr. Bench made me think of cancer, and that made me think of my father.

And I wanted to hurl the table into the wall behind me.

Instead, my impatience manifested a bit more healthily, but it was still impatient, "Well? You must know SOMETHING?"

 

Clamdigger looked at something in his right palm, I glanced and saw that it was the poker chip that served as a reminder of his debt. He was mulling it over.

"Lives are on the line here, Clamdigger," I told him.

"Marlowe?" He  flipped the chip in the air and caught it again in a smooth motion, "You don't know the half of how right you are. I'm sure how much I can share on this, not and not get killed if word goes out I put the finger on Ophiotaurus. See, he's made a lot of friends."

That did surprise me, "Ophiotaurus has made friends among the talent? He didn't strike me as warm and fuzzy, or completely sane for that matter," I wasn't about to explain to him Mayo's worry about the Balance being a part in Bench's mental collapse.

"Oh, he's as batty as a cave full of guano," Clamdigger nodded, "He's also been providing pretty free health care for half the guys in this building, maybe more."

 

I gaped at him, "He patches them up, for free?"

"Oh well," Clamdigger shrugs "Free is relative. A lot of 'you'll pay me back one day if you can' . He takes information, what people have seen, got a real interest in the New Samaritans, let me tell you. Tornado is  lucky I don't need an appendix taken out, or debt or no debt I'd be tempted. People here get hurt, and thanks to superheroes, they get some odd injuries. Injuries doctors are expected to report. No legit doctor worth his salt is going to risk his medical license over some supervillain's muscle's secrecy. He sees signs of super-strength induced bone breaks. Radiation burns....Shield injuries? Who the hell but us and the bosses get SHIELD Injuries? The legit docs report it, and the net closes on us. There are doctors who will risk it but those few patch up your holes, then take an arm and a leg for it. They don't get paid small around here and you never know when they'll have a change of heart. Ophiotaurus isn't just saving a lot of us money , maybe a few lives, and lots of us aren't having to go to early retirement due to poorly healed injury."

 

I processed this, and I felt a swell of desperation rising, "Clamdigger, I really need to know where to find Ophiotaurus. You have no idea how desperately I need to find him," I realized that my tone had gotten a bit primal. Was it smart, telling this guy demand was high for the knowledge he had? Not in the slightest but I could feel a chance slipping away. What if my impromptu tracer on the camera drone didn't work? What if Ophiotaurus  found it? or blocked it? He'd blocked signals before. At least I think that was him. I needed to be sure, and I needed to know what this man knew, in detail, to ensure a better chance. Ophiotaurus might have the cure I had sold for safety. Hell, he might have found out my identity and caused my father to develop cancer! Either way, I needed to know and I needed to know now!

 

Clamdigger shook his head, "I cannot afford, in my line of work, to become a target  of every blaster equipped, or gun totting henchmen in this city. If Tornado were here, I might trust his discretion, but you heroes are normally too sloppy, to rash, for me to be sure the story wouldn't get out. I'm sorry but-"

 

The next thing I knew, Clamdigger was being lifted in the air, his feet struggling to find the chair he was in but instead kicking it away as he made choking sounds. A pair of hands was holding him aloft with a grip of iron, cutting off his air supply as easily as an   Osprey plucking out a fish that had gotten too close to the surface.

 

Then I realized those hands that were holding Clamdigger up, ready to choke him out or even snap his neck were mine!

 

"Where! Is! Ophiotaurus?!" I hissed at him. And some part of me realized I had snapped. That I completely lost it. But that part seemed to be no where near my internal driver's seat. 

 

At first, Clamdigger looked scared, but then a kind of calm set over him. I expect him to kick, or cry out. I didn't expect the needle. It must have been up a sleeve or something, because this small syringe of clear liquid almost magically appeared in his hand, and he stabbed at my arm with it. It was a smooth motion. I think he would have tried to stab me in the neck if he could of reached it.

Had I been an ordinary man, the needle would have gone in deep, and filled me with what I suspect was a fast acting sedative.
But I wasn't ordinary, and while at times there seemed to be a surplus of high tech metals and mystical blades that could cut my flesh, this wasn't one of them.

 

The needle bent.

Now, Clamdigger did look scared, realization went into his eyes that I was not just some guy Tornado used as a messenger.  Meanwhile, the color in his face was changing and not for the better. I could loosen his air intake just a bit, give him one more chance to tell me, then break an arm to give him a reason to go to Ophiotaurus. I'd use him like a compass to find his way, and if he lost use of his arm, he'd brought it on himself for not helping me save my dad!

"Jesus Christ," I heard a voice saying, and was relieved to find it was mine, and I dropped Clamdigger gasping and coughing onto the floor. Had I just thought of a plan of killing or MAIMING a guy to use his trail of blood as a path to a villain? 

 

My hands were free of his neck, but they were shaking. Nevertheless, I clumsily used them, putting a hand on Clamdigger's shoulder, "Let me see how badly I hurt you, I don't think I did any permanent damage but if there is I can get you medical help. I am so sorry. I crossed..."

He gave two more coughs, and waved me off, pushing my hand away, something he had to know wouldn't work unless I let him.

I let him.

He staggered up to the table, and took a swig from that beer, a long one, then painfully at first, but with greater ease, swallowed.
"Are you okay?"  The only emotion my voice this time was a mix of concern, and profound shame. I had nearly tortured, or at least maimed a man, just to get to Bench. 
:"Yeah yeah" He said, his voice raspy and winded but gaining some strength back, "I didn't read how badly you wanted this guy for real. You heroic types tend to be dramatic, but you really meant it."

"I am so sorry," I began to repeat, "I'll let Tornado know I just used up that debt and more." I did not look forward to telling Tornado and Lady Obsidian of my disgrace, but it would have to come, "Are you sure you don't need medical help?"

He looked at me as if I were crazy then gave a wheezy laugh, "Holy crap, you're seriously upset about this?"

Shame, for one brief precious moment, was replaced by confusion, "I just choked the hell out of you, I almost deliberately hurt you to see I could follow you going to Ophiotaurus for medical help."

"Damn," Clamdigger said, but rather than being upset he said "That might have worked. I mean, I consider myself a pro, but hurt me bad enough and the guys here might have sent me straight to him. That's pretty damned clever. Why didn't you go with that?"

I was very glad for the shades and fake mustache, but it didn't obscure my look of disbelief, "Are you mental? I could have killed you, Clamdigger."
And he snerked again, "Eel, right?" He asked picking his hat off from the floor, "Never mind, don't answer. Only so many folks with needle proof skin on the team and a grip like that, so not hard to guess."

Great. Let's hope this disguise was enough.

"Eel," he continued, "One of my earliest encounters with Tornado, he almost let me fall to my death."
"He would have caught you," I assured.

"Oh yeah, sure, but he didn't let me know that. And not all heroes are as nice as your team, though I could tell you stories of how they messed up some folks around here, arguably because they felt they had no choice. Besides, you'll have to do better than that to put the long term fear in me from a little air loss. I got garroted by Bloodwatch once. On the predators in spandex, you're small fish, Eel."

"If Bloodwatch is the comparison, I'm very happy to fall short, " I told him feeling a shiver in my gut at the notion I had even come close. 
"If it helps, I'm sorry. If  you'd come for anyone else, if you knew Ophiotaurus' secretary or something, not that there is one, I could pretend to go after her instead. Just, I can't be caught going after Ophiotaurus. You get me? And don't worry about the neck thing. " Clamdigger continued, seeming so casual about nearly losing touch with oxygen forever that the only thing I saw on his face now was amusement and a weird kind of mea culpa, "That was good. Anyone else would have broke for it. Remember that one, might help you in the future."

I decided Clamdigger's whole world view was insane, his moral compass was bent,  and I prepared leave with my tail between my legs, 

Then it hit me and I looked back at him, "Wait. What if I told you to go after someone everyone here thought was an ordinary guy? What if I knew, or suspected I knew, Ophiotaurus' secret ID?"

 

He looked at the poker chip, "Huh... why that, Mister Eel, would grant me plausible deniability with my peers." He put his chair back down, sat down, and invited me to take my seat again. I noticed he was adding my beer to his own, partial payment for mussing his suit I guess,  "Tell about this.. completely unrelated man you want to find."

 

Not believing this, and still feeling my fingers tremble now and then, I sat down and said "Doctor Bench. Full name..."

And Clamdigger took notes.

****

[BoloOfEarth]

Eel tossing Scruffian down to Trailblazer was tactically very sound, IMO.  It kept her from coming back up after him, unless she wanted to lug the unconscious bad guy around (which would probably slow her down) or risk Scruffian getting away (if she left him behind).  While I chuckled at Eel's comment, I didn't read that bit as just for humor's sake.

 

As to the latest installment, I liked Clamdigger taking a big of affront at effectively being called a minion.  Everybody (even the bad guys) sees themselves as the heroes of their own story, and doesn't like being reminded that they're not a hero in the grand scheme of things.  (That's why I'm not fond of villains being depicted as evil just for the sake of being evil.  It's too 2-dimensional.  A little complexity makes them much better antagonists.)

[Hermit]

It didn't take much time for Clamdigger to get started. He told me to wait in the room for five minutes after he left, and then he did so. I was still too mortified by my behavior despite the guy's assurance he'd had it worse. That didn't excuse me, none of this did. This wasn't a situation where I knew thousands would die tonight if I didn't get the information  I needed. And even then I've never liked the ethical ramifications of the ends justifying the means.  And yet, I couldn't say I hadn't done just that before. It bothered me when I did it, but I did it. Feeling guilty is not some sort of absolution, not by itself.

 

It took action. I'd like to think my actions were good, upright, moral. But I needed to make amends with deeds. Not that Claimdigger seemed to agree, but selfish as this sounds, my soul has little to do with his views. A man's got to be able to live with himself, my dad always says, or he'll never be at home in his life.

 

My dad has cancer.

 

I slapped the table as that thought intruded, not hard enough to break it, thank goodness. And rose. I didn't know if I'd been in here the full five minutes or not. I might have spaced out for ten, or it might have only been one, but I was done here regardless. Rising up, I left the small room and went into the bigger one. I didn't have many eyes openly on me. So either I had pulled this off seamlessly, or already blown it and folks were covering. I made my way to the door, nodded to the bartender as if I were a regular here, but before I cold get to the egress, someone else came in.

With the duster flowing about him, it was hard to make out his frame at first, but it did seem to be on the slender if athletic side. His eyes were covered in dark shades, and he had.. a mustache, that looked a lot like the one I had applied save bushier. I had seen that mustache in fact, when I was gathering materials for my own disguise. This could be very bad.

 

The new guy looked about, and said "Hey guys, heroes? am I right?" the disgust with heroes was.. a bit of the top, "Makes it hard for a working man to make a living."

 

The crowd was not impressed : Some grunts, some lifted eyebrows, but mostly they ignored him. Me? I knew that voice. Oh, it was deeper than usual but I was 90% sure it was Aspirant. What the hell was he doing here? 

 

Despite his shades, I could tell he was giving some individuals some slow, intense looks as he started to move past me. Then I realized exactly what he was doing, and why it wouldn't work. While his shades helped dilute the effect, he was still taking long slow looks at individuals in order to use his telepathy. I doubt any could feel his mind invading theirs, but in this place, prolonged stares were a challenge. Heck, in some American high schools this was a challenge. 

 

Lovely.

"You got a problem, slim?" One man with an eyepatch glared back at Aspirant.

"Maybe he's lost," another said, not subtly slipping on some brass knuckles.

 

Now I know Aspirant could wipe the floor with several of these guys. His powers aren't physical, but they'd never lay a glove on him. However, a crowd this big, this many thoughts, might be harder to sort. Five or six guys, yeah, but we moved into dozens, unless they did the 'stupid hollywood ninja' stunt where they came one at a time instead of USING their superior numbers, well, he' could be in trouble. Somehow, with what Clamdigger had said about them, I didn't think 'The Talent' was that stupid.

 

Well, this was not in the plan, but before any hostilities could really begin, I grabbed Aspirant by the shoulder and thought really hard 'It's Eel, just go with what i say' hoping he'd pick it up. I guess he started to read my thoughts because his breath caught for a second.

"I told you you're not old enough for this place yet," I pulled him along "Just because I'm in the profession doesn't mean you should be. I swear to god you're so damn embarrassing...like I need flack from your mother."

The Talent in the room stopped any advance, and then broke into some smiles and dark chuckles. Yeah, family making you nuts was apparently a near universal constant. Some shook their heads as they sat back down. 

"And get rid of that fake mustache you're using to make yourself look older," I added now that our backs were to the crowd.

Apirant played along, "But I can do this. I can be a bad ass.. you watch. I got the stuff... you won't tell mom will you?"

Best acting he'd done all day. It got a few laughs instead of just chuckles, and we were out of there.

 

In my head he was grousing, 'I would have used a better mustache, but it turns out SOMEONE took the good one. What are you doing here, Eel? And... are you okay?'

'I'm fine,' I lied and was immediately caught on it.

'No you're not, you've got so much so much guilt and self loathing right now I feel the urge to drink to pass out, and for me it's secondary. Not American beer, of course, Our moose piss is stronger and better tasting stuff than that' Despite his dig on American beer, I could feel the undercurrent of concern. The kid had a kind soul. I was touched.

'Let's just say you're feeling the reason I bailed on you guys. Combat's not good for me right now. I .. might cross a line'. More like, I had already.

 

He didn't 'speak' in my head, but I did feel a spike of pure surprise wrapped in an additional layer of concern.

'I'm very sorry to let you all down, ' I winced and not from the telepathy. 

'You hate being benched' he did not leave any room for doubt, 'but rather than risk a life due to your pain, you benched yourself. I'm actually kind impressed . But what caused the pain in the first place?' 

 

Before I could answer, I could feel, or maybe it was just a guess, that he was looking for the answer and he found it. Not like it wasn't going off like clock work constantly in my head anyway.

'Oh, Eel, your dad, I'm sorry I..'

 

"OUT!" I snapped at him verbally.

 

He stepped back. Fortunately we were in the same spot where Mayo was waiting. I glared at Aspirant, "That was none of your business." I felt pissed and I'm sure to his senses it came off like waves of heat.

 

"Friend Eel, stop. The boy a 90% pure soul, he means only support and concern," It was Mayo's voice in my ears that helped me check the anger in my skull, at least a little.

 

"Thanks," Aspirant spoke rather than thought it, then he turned to see Mayo and nearly jumped.

"Hey, Aspirant, be nice, he's odd looking, but he's not ugly," I informed the rookie, irked on a friend's behalf instead of my own.

"Sorry, sorry, it's not that," he assured me, "I tried reading his mind and I.... uhm."

"He blocked you?" I smirked, feeling now a bit proud of Mayo.

 

"No, he opened up so much I passed right through before I could even see anything" Aspirant explained to me, "It's like opening the front door to a house, stepping through only to find you've gone to the back yard in one step," He lowered those shades and gazed at Mayo with amazed confusion, "Man, Mystics are weird."

 

"See, THAT I agree with," I told the rookie with enthusiasm, "They can't just block, they've got to zen super fast tour, they can't just shoot energy, they hit you with the lash of Wotan or something..." 

 

"It's the waves of Wotan, and you  both remember I can hear you, yes?"  Mayo ahemed, "And yes, that was a mental technique I developed to discourage telepaths."

 

"Well," Aspirant conceded, "It works. I feel discouraged," Then he looked at me, "And confused. Why didn't you tell us about your dad?"

 

I sighed, "Valerosa knows, she's the only one who need to know. I'm trying to help in... non combative ways. It's going differently than I expected but I've opened up some avenues. What were YOU doing in that place?"

 

"Valerosa sent me to get information, telepathically scan some muscle hoping some of them knew of our target. I mean, sure I'm not actor, but once i found that contact, I could have just taken the knowledge and ran" he answered me, "I didn't see the contact there though," He was clearly 

And I? I felt like a damned idiot. We had a telepath! I didn't' have to even talk to Clamdigger. All I had to do was wave Aspirant over him like an air port security wand, and boom, we would have had all the information we had wanted.

 

I groaned, "if he'd been Chekov's Gun he would have shot me."

 

"Huh?"  "Pardon?" Aspirant and Mayo said at the same time.

"Just remembering that, in many ways, my girlfriend is smarter than I am," I told them both honestly, "Which beats the alternative theory that she's only of average intellect and I'm a moron."

 

"In your defense," Mayo brought up, "By your own admission, you have been very distracted and distressed."

"Also, Valerosa did miss something, in that she doesn't even know you're doing this or she might not have sent me," Aspirant added then realized, "I didn't get many thoughts of use in that place. What am I supposed to tell her?"

I sighed, I did not want to share my outrage with the group, my near slip. And, I realized, I didn't really have to, at least I didn't have to telepathically anymore than I already had,  "Listen very carefully, and I'm going to tell you what happened now I.. " I looked at our telepath and aura reader both "It's just the three of us here, right?"

They looked about, Aspirant with a look of intense focus, Mayo as if he were drifting on a zen cloud, then they both nodded at my question. 

"Fine, I made contact with the guy Valerosa sent you to find," I told him, "And.. here's how it went down."

 

Aspirant took it all in, then looked at me, "You didn't have to face this alone, you know?"

"My very words to him," Mayo nodded, "I've noticed the purely physical heroes can be noble and brave, but they sometimes seem emotionally stunted. I wonder if it's an over reliance on brawn?"

Aspirant seemed to agree, "I feel you. If it were up to them, it would be just hammers and nails. Good thing they have us more thoughtful folk."

 

I  rolled my eyes, "Okay, MY Turn to say I can hear you both," Another thought hit me, "How'd you guys do against the Miscreants? I saw Trailblazer, she was amazing."

"Trailblazer's pissed, "He answered, "She said got ditched by some meathead in a solid gray costume. She's looking for payback if she finds him."
"Tell her to meet me in the gym once all this is over," I told him wryly.
He gave me another funny look, then focused and pried into my head . This time I didn't gripe.
The telepath broke into a grin after that, "She's going to be so embarrassed."

"She's got nothing to be embarrassed about," I told him, "If you pried, you felt my pride. See, I made a funny." 
"Actually, it's a homonym, not sure if the American education system covered that, but a homonym is when..." Aspirant became pedantic, how much of it was busting my chops, I wasn't sure.
"We have them in American English too," I told him.
"Yes, sir," he said smirking. Okay, now I was sure.
"You realize you're not wearing your usual mask? The one that covers your lips" I gave him a look, "Meaning, I can see that you're smirking."

His smirk vanished instantly, "Ahhh sorry?"
I thought of something, "Just how often are you smirking in class?"

"I plead the 5th," He blurted hastily.

I looked at Mayo, "Let it be known that the Canadian who hates American beer still recognizes how awesome our Bill of Rights is."

"Recorded for the ages," Mayo responded. Now there was a master of the placid expression!

"Get out of here," I informed Aspirant, "And thanks for worrying about me, but for now I've got back up.

For a moment, I thought the kid was going to give me lip and refuse to go. He glanced over at Mayo. Somehow, even though Mayo is blind, they locked gazes. Then they nodded at each other, and Aspirant and his second rate mustache left.

"Did you two have some freaky telepath mystic communique about me just now?" I asked suspiciously.
"My aren't we vain?" He said then added, "Of course we did, friend Eel. He worries. He likes you, he thinks you should sit this out completely, but he likes you and respects you."
I smiled a bit "mm that's nice."
"Mind you, he's not completely sure why, but I told him that was normal," Mayo did not bother hiding HIS smirk.

I snorted ,then the humor dimmed utterly as I recalled what happened, "I nearly lost it in there," I told him a bit more grimly, "Just caught me like an undertow and the next thing I knew I was sucked into it."

"You pulled out of it," he said knowingly and put a hand on my shoulder, "Don't worry, when the time is right, you'll do what is right, not what is smart. Chalk my faith in that up to experience, I've known you for a while now."
"Thanks," I looked sideways at him, "I think."

Who knows, with friends like Mayo, I might just make it.

[BoloOfEarth]

You have:  "Thanks," Mayo spoke rather than thought it -- And I think that should be Aspirant.

 

I have to say, I'm surprised Valerosa sent Aspirant by himself.  I mean, I know he'd be the only one to go into the bar, but I'd expect one of the others to be hanging around nearby (maybe Viewpoint or Pogo keeping watch from a distance, ready if he should signal over the comms?)   I figured they'd still be under the "no solo acts" rule.  I'd suggest adding a mention, maybe when Eel asks if they're the only ones there, that [other hero] is nearby but not close enough to overhear.

 

Other that those bits, nothing of concern that I saw.  But if someone else noticed anything, feel free to chime in.

[Hermit]

5 minutes ago, BoloOfEarth said:

You have:  "Thanks," Mayo spoke rather than thought it -- And I think that should be Aspirant.

 

I have to say, I'm surprised Valerosa sent Aspirant by himself.  I mean, I know he'd be the only one to go into the bar, but I'd expect one of the others to be hanging around nearby (maybe Viewpoint or Pogo keeping watch from a distance, ready if he should signal over the comms?)   I figured they'd still be under the "no solo acts" rule.  I'd suggest adding a mention, maybe when Eel asks if they're the only ones there, that [other hero] is nearby but not close enough to overhear.

 

Other that those bits, nothing of concern that I saw.  But if someone else noticed anything, feel free to chime in.

 

Ignore the furious editing behind the curtain!!

 

I mean, thank you.

I think it's possible one of the others IS relatively nearby, but obviously I painted myself in a corner that there has to be SOME Distance of Mayo would have reported them when they made sure it was "just the three of them"

 

Or WOULD he? Mystics can be treacherous! Not to be trusted.

[Hermit]

Things both were, and weren't going according to plan. I had a tracker on a camera, but it hadn't gone to base yet. I had feelers out for Bench, but the guy doing it might not have been as warm and fuzzy about being choked as he claimed to be. The miscreants had been dealt with, but I missed 90% of it, and deserted the team, only to have one of the rookies find out why later after I had gotten in the way of yet another. 

I stared at the tracker, "I guess it will be unreasonable to expect Clamdigger to have all the info within the hour, and the tracker isn't showing any one location that that drone is going to for more than five minutes. That could take hours."

 

Mayo and I had gathered under a wharf, to give a bit of a buffer from the louder waves. I do wish one of the seals that hung out nearby would be a bit quieter. Every two minutes he let loose a bark that could shake your ears. He seemed to pay what Mayo and I wanted no mind.  Like me, Mayo wasn't really bothered by the cold of the ocean, so we both were half immersed anyway. It was, kind of soothing, at least for me. Any injuries I had were by now already healed up. Water is kind to me.

 

My friend basked a bit  and noted my time keeping guesswork gently, "So we have time. Perhaps you should put that time to good use."

"You mean , Patrol? No can do. I already nearly lost it on just a regular guy, 'talent' or not, If I met a villain I didn't gauge right in my state of mind I'd risk lack of control even more," I wanted to settle that fast.

 

"That's not what I was going to suggest," Mayo told me, " i was going to suggest something much harder while you had time."

"You want me to get into a staring contest with Viewpoint?" I quipped weakly.

 

"Returning to your team is probably the wisest thing you can do, but not the most necessary," He told me, and continued on, "You need to speak to your father and mother.  And perhaps, so do I.  As I said, if Bench is behind this, it is possibly by mystical means he gained even more knowledge. But  that aside, you need to talk to them."

 

"Oh hell no," I blurted before I even thought the words. Realizing I had to explain why now, I went on, "My father is a good man, a kind man, but even if he forgives me, especially if he forgives me, I think it's going to hurt all the more. I'd almost rather her chewed me out." No, I realized, no almost about it, I would feel better if he tore me up verbally and spit out the pieces. 

 

Unfortunately for me, Mayo didn't confuse his sympathy for me with capitulation, "And yet, we both know you are not one to put your pain before the needs of others. Your father needs to know this  for his own sake, so he can understand why you seem to have withdrawn. Otherwise you are hurting him in ways his ailment cannot."

 

I glared at him, "What color is my aura now, when I kind of want to yeet you several miles out into the deep water?"

"A sort of angry ochre, if you must know," he answered. I had no idea if he was lying or not, "Am I wrong?"

"No, you're not," I said through gritted teeth, "Hence the ochre." 

"Then, yeet me, I'll swim back and we can , ritual done, go to your father," A pause, "Ah, what is it to yeet? I mean, I have a notion given context but-"

I smiled, picked him up, and showed him. I have to say, Mayo was not that aerodynamic. Which is the excuse I'm going to give that he didn't really get 'yeeted' that far. 

 

"Not enough spin," I observed sadly.

He swam back, of course, "You," he informed me, "Are a petty petty man."
"Yes I am," I smiled, "Don't offer if you don't mean it next time."
"A truth" he conceded, and we moved along. I did not look forward to seeing dad. I think I must have tried to side track at least four or five times.

Mayo didn't let me. He used wisdom of the ages, emotional support, and flat out shaming techniques. I honestly think mystics have a 'good? bad? I'm the guy with the staff.' attitude in their approach to problem solving at times. It's irritating, but effective.

 

And I certainly wasn't going to go to my folks in a water soaked generic gray costume. Instead, I got into some blue jeans, a pull over shirt and some sneakers. I don't know why I went SO casual, maybe it was that anything formal smacked of funerals. Then again, some in my family would dress in a funeral like that. I guess in the end it's not quite that important.

 

I returned to my folks hotel room, and, knocked. Mayo was there, he had dressed in a hoodie which.. helped I suppose, but I still expected someone to bump into him and freak out that we were being invaded. 

 

Mom was the one who opened the door. Her eyes locked on me with relief, then hugged me, "Caleb, you came back. Please, you and your friend come here. Airana is already here. She said you'd be here."

 

I was confused. How the hell did Ariana know that I'd be here. I didn't even know I'd be here so it couldn't be Aspirant even if he had peeped me. Then I remembered the look between Mayo and him. That conversation they had I wasn't part of. There was more than concern involved.

"I feel set up," I muttered, hoping I didn't sound like I was whining.

 

"Only by those who love you," Ariana said, "Come on in, please. I've been apologizing to your mother for our abrupt departure. She's been most kind."

 

"Feeling like a selfish fool more like than kind," Mom admitted as Mayo and I came in and closed the door behind us, "I know you have important life saving work. Not like it's been a secret to us."

 

"Super-strength sure is handy for stump removal," My dad said, holding up a shot of bourbon.  It was a bit early for it, but hell, the man had a right to drink whatever he wanted.

 

"Ariana, what are you doing here?" I turned to her first, mostly because I worried if I looked straight at dad I might just make a stir as if I were eight years old and not a grown man, "The others need a... well, looking after."

 

"They have someone looking after," She replied, then looked at mom and dad before deciding the pretense of secrecy was way past us, "Slime is with them, Viewpoint and Pogo on patrol."

"Oh," I said, feeling any chance of making a fuss as a delaying tactic dwindling.  I turned to mom and dad, "Well, I'm sorry too."

 

"Son, are you okay?" My dad asked, "We saw the Miscreants taken down on the TV. You weren't there, what happened, were you hurt? Some other threat come up?"

 

My mouth caught. How do I tell my dad that I am SO close to snapping from bottled self loathing I might kill someone if I slip even a bit? That I almost tortured a guy for information? None of that is how he raised me. I wanted to say words, but nothing came out.

 

"Eel," Ariana stepped forward and kissed my cheek, "Chose to work behind the scenes, and Mayo came into help. Our fighting allowed a distraction from his information gathering. Your son is actually rather clever."

 

"Oh, lord love a duck," My mom beamed "We know that. Though he could be stubborn about homework if it bored him. Loved him some history, but oh my he didn't care too licks about grammar. " 

 

"I didn't like your mother either," Dad turned said to mom at the mention of 'grammar' and we groaned. Dad was Dad joking long before it was a term. 

He received a light loving swat as was the tradition for mocking grandmother. I shot him a grateful look for trying to lighten the mood. And another to my lady for making it sound like my quitting was a noble deed. It wasn't , but, it was nice to not have to tell dad about my stress. He had enough troubles, obviously. Real troubles.

 

Still, it was time to get to things, "Dad. I'm sorry you have cancer, I guess it threw me for a loop when I heard it."

"You are not alone in that," he assured me, "I feel like I quit smoking for nothing."

"You smoked?" I was surprised.

"One of your mother's conditions for our dating. She didn't date smokers," He told me.

"Ah, so it wasn't for nothing," Ariana corrected my dad, "It was for everything."

My mom looked over at my Latina lover and gave a slight smile, "If you're trying to use flattery to win me over, it's working."

 

A few chuckles , it was so weird they didn't seem to be freaking out the REAL fish guy in the room, the pale one, "Ah, this is my friend Mayo, not sure if I introduced him. He's .. he's possibly my best friend . He's helped me through all this. We've been in the deep together. In every sense of the word."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mayo," My dad said.

"I am honored to meet you both as well, " Mayo told them, "Your son is a true hero, and I am pleased you realize this as your auras light with pride."

"Mayo," I hissed as my father actually looked a bit sheepish, "No announcing emotions to the room. It's rude."

"And yet surfacers invented opera," Mayo said, then turned to my dad again, "I am sorry, Mister Lambert if  I over stepped."

 

"Quite all right," he nods "Just ah, don't open your yap when I watch my wife bend over."

Okay NOW Mom was blushing. Dad got another light swat that wouldn't dislodge a fly.

They were chuckling, laughing, light banter, all so happy while the weight of my guilt became heavier and heavier.

 

It just suddenly slipped out, "We had the cure for cancer a few years ago and then had to give it up. I'm so sorry. I think I made the wrong choice." I wasn't crying but my voice choked a bit.

 

And everyone grew really quiet.
 
 

[Lawnmower Boy]

Having a private conversation while standing hip deep in the water at a rocky beach is perhaps a scenario that works better in a Tennessean imagination than in real life. 

 

I mean, it would be private in the sense that no-one else could hear it over the surf, but . . . 

[Hermit]

Hey, Tennessee was once ocean front property! I don't think humans were around then, but not the point!

Neither is that I've crossed some terrain and been in an ocean.

Nope, the point is, you're right!!

It does read off. And might cause folks to lose their suspension of disbelief. I may have to go back and have them share a rock higher up or something.

Thanks

 

Right now I'm working on getting my 50000 words for Nanowrimo , so speed over.. uhm.. well legibility let alone common sense but I am taking notes from you guys and making adjustments

[Lawnmower Boy]

Having given it all the deep and serious thought it deserves, I think "under a wharf" works better and gives you an "under the boardwalk" joke to pad the old word content.

[Hermit]

My father looked at me for a long time, then, in his elegant way, asked "Caleb, what the hell are you talking about? You had a cure for cancer and gave it up? What is it you claimed to have done, traded it for magic beans?"

 

If dad was trying to lighten my guilt, he was failing miserably, "I'm not joking," I told him, "The Fumian situation. A lot of their stuff was a mix of monkey's paw and snake oil; you buy it, but the price was always ten times the cost and it goes wrong. But this? It would have, it did work. I know, the hospital is proof of that."

"Hospital?" Mom sounded confused, and no wonder, how would any of this make sense?

 

Then Ariana took my hand and showed how it could make sense, calmly, kindly, she pulled me back, and  the next thing I knew I was sitting on a sofa with a drink in my other hand while she held on tight to the other.one, "What Caleb is saying is true, though he gives us more choice than we had in my opinion. This will take a moment, but if you'll be patient, I'll tell you all that happened, and why we had a cure we can no longer share, even though we really really wish we could. It may upset you, but I want you to know if you are going to be upset by our choice, it was OUR Choice, the team, as much a choice as we had. Do you have time to let me tell it?"

 

"Enough to hear this," My father's double meaning to that wasn't lost on me. He was trying to be reassuring. 
I didn't feel reassured. Not batting a thousand today, dad.
My mother? She just nodded.

 

And Ariana stole my thunder so to speak. She told the story calmly, but not coldly. She related how it came to be, how happy we felt when we discovered the cure, and how another alien race grew desperate to keep us from repeating their mistake with a eugenics 'fix' gone wild. That out our choice was to win and kill a small army and invite invasion with a chance of a Nazi's dreams come true when, not if, it fell into the wrong hands.

During this, my father's brow furrowed at certain key points, a soft nod now and then, a look of sad resignation. Other than those moments, he was as stoic as a statue. Mom's face was much easier to read. Horror at the villains we fought, hope at our victories, sorrow at the lost cure. 

"My god," She finally said when Ariana was done.

"Son," My father looked at me, "Not to sleight your lady, but... is that how you see that story?"

 

"In my mind, I could have done more, made a different choice," I told him, "It might have saved you, but otherwise, yes. She didn't miss a beat," I took a deep breath to calm myself, "I'm sorry, dad. I'm supposed to be saving lives, not choosing which lives are worth saving. And now I can't save you."

 

And I knew, knew mind you, that however dad really felt, he'd tell me that it was okay. He'd back my play a little, or he'd back my play a lot. That's how he was wired. He'd talk about his place in heaven being secured, even if it was a bit premature. He'd do his best to protect me from pain, to shield me from myself. He was always doing that, trying to take it on himself, trying to carry the load alone. Good god, the man was annoying in that way. The downside with that was anything he said was suspect due to that.

 

Mom? Mom  I was sure, would rip me a new one. She loved dad with all her heart. She believed that you didn't let family down, you stood by them. Dad saw himself as the expendable one. Mom believed none of us were expendable. And even Ariana's story might be seen as my deciding some people were just that. I was not looking forward to the outrage she would surely express.

 

My dad looked at me, "You're my son. It's not your job to look after me, it's my job to look after you. You couldn't know, and frankly sounds like you didn't have as much a choice as you were going on. Heck, it's amazing you managed to get to help those kids in that hospital. Times like this, I like to think at least there's good beer in heaven, just maybe I'll be tasting it a few years sooner than I expected."

 

Two thoughts rushed to my head at his comment. The first was a smug 'I knew it' when he acted just like I thought he would. The second was a less rational focus on the beer comment with a 'Heaven is in Canada?'. Damn Aspirant, he'd gotten into my head in more ways than one.

 

I looked at my mom and braced myself.

 

"Well," She said, " I love the man but frankly I think your father is full of it. We're a family, we look after each other, not on anyone of us to take all the load without the others lending support. I think an apology is in order for some nearsightedness."

 

Ariana, still holding my hand, stiffened, and her normally kind eyes grow hard as stone gazing at my mother. Heck, I thought I heard her teeth grind as, jaw set,  she started to rise from the sofa to give my mom what for in my defense. Great, the two most important women in my life were about to clash.  I readied to pull Ariana back and see if I could wordlessly convey that I was ready to take my lumps. I guess I called it with mom's reaction too.

 

I opened my mouth to apologize to mom  before Ariana could start a verbal scrap with her.

 

But mom's mouth was quick, "Caleb, we've known you were a hero for a while now. We've watched your exploits on TV and the Supertube and what not.  We've been so proud. We've asked how you were doing and you always told you fine and we went with it because we know secrecy is how you try to protect us. And while we've been on the other side of the country, there is no excuse, none, for how we've neglected you."

 

"Ariana, mom, stop figh-" I started to say, then I did a re-wind in my brain. What did she just say?

Ariana's own jaw had dropped. She was all geared up to go a mom like two lionesses in a quarrel, only to have the rug pulled under her. She wasn't as surprised as I was. She couldn't be.

 

"True that, as you youngn's say," Dad spoke up, "Son we get that communications can be hacked or tapped so you have to speak in code, but , your mom is right .We should have realized how traumatic some of what you do is."

 

Mom nodded, and continued, "Caleb, why didn't you tell us the holidays after that event, when you were home, that you'd been burdened with such a terrible terrible choice? I know you have this fine young lady, and your team mates to talk to , but we're still your family, we would have been in your corner, helped your pain."

 

"Boy takes too much on himself," My dad shook his head, "It's his worse trait," He pointed a finger at me, "You need to work on that, son."

 

And Mayo, who had been still as a statue through all this, broke out into a laugh, causing us all to turn and look at him.

 

The blind mystic seemed to sense rather than see the attention, "My apologies, Mister Lambert.. It's just I and others have said that very same thing."

"Well, there you go," My father said, vindicated, and looked to his wife, "Ain't that always been Caleb's problem?"

"Always has," She agreed, "Don't know where he gets it from." And she and Ariana exchanged mutually sympathetic looks.

 

"Mom, I thought you'd be upset? Outraged," I blurted.

 

"Of course I am, told you why too, one cattywampus situation after another, family not talking to family so we can tend to each other's aches. Lord, Love a duck, I AM upset, but -" A realization "Oh, you think I'd be upset at you? Humphh, what is it because your mother is a woman? I'm supposed to be all hysterical? " She looked at Ariana, "I am so sorry, Ariana, he's had some backwards values creep in his upbringing despite our best efforts. I was hoping California would balance those out with some hipster think."

 

Ariana's briefly hard glare had long vanished, and now she looked warmly at my mom, "Oh no, please don't apologize. You've raised a good man, but he's had a few years here already. Some areas he can be a bit of a slow learner. Was he like that at home? Stubborn about changing?"

 

"Oh dear girl, we need to have ourselves some more chats , just you and I, sometime," My mom told her.

 

"Aren't you glad we came, Caleb?" My dad joked at that.

 

I hadn't realized it, but tears , as much of relief as sorrow, threatened to overwhelm , "As. .a matter of fact, I am. I need to use the bathroom" 

Dad noticed the need, maybe even the real reason for it "Right there in the corner," he pointed at the bathroom door. 

"Thanks," I said, "be.. right back."

 

 As I moved past Mayo towards it, I heard him mutter, "You're an amazingly blessed man, Caleb. I think I envy you." but he smiled when he said it.

 

"You should," I told him, and retreated into the toilet adorned haven. If I did break into tears, I didn't want it to be in front of folks I cared about. 

 

I had backwards influences in my youth, don't you know?