Just Another Job (16 page)

“Alright. Let's jump in. I've never really
felt it necessary to give a meeting before sending you out to work,
but with recent events - “ said Erik.

“With Klaus,” said Chris still too eager.
Frank glared at him and Johnykin put her hand on his shoulder. The
fantasy he made for the day faded fast.

“Yes, with Klaus. But also with the national
focus tightening on our activities here. I'm sure you’ve heard and
felt the expectations being placed on Supers lately. As well as
those working with Supers. It’s important that today's patrol be
taken seriously and cautiously. Also I want to tell you that you
are representing something bigger than yourselves.”

“Of course,” said Johnykin. “Tell them where
we’re going.”

Erik glanced up at Johnykin and then quickly
away. “It should be fun. You’re pulling double security again, but
at the Giants game today. Lots of cameras and attention. Be good.
Now go.”

Outside of Erik's office, Frank punched
Chris in the arm.

“What was that for?” asked Chris rubbing the
spot.

“Get out of your head. I don’t care what
Erik fucking said. It’s not going to be a fun little frolic out
there today,” said Frank.

“This’ll be a big attention grabber. We're
supposed to look like we're having fun, Frank; but it is serious,
Chris,” said Johnykin.

“I'm serious. I haven't even said anything
yet and you're both all over me,” said Chris. He looked back and
forth between them. Frank appeared ready to hit Chris again if he
made light of their work. Chris knew better. Johnykin was satisfied
and gave a look for Chris to follow.

She went straight for the Fun Room. Chris
just behind her and Frank just behind him. When they went inside,
Walt stood next to three, new to Chris, Super suits.

“Hey, Walt,” said Johnykin. She squeezed his
arm and moved past to grab her suit without another word and left
for the locker room to change.

“I hope it fits right Ms. Claremont,” said
Walt, still smiling from Johnykin's contact with him.

“Looks good,” said Frank. He held one of the
suits familiarly and went off to get dressed as well.

“Chris. I wanted to show you you're new
suit,” said Walt. He grabbed the limp arm of the suit to show Chris
more closely.

“This is great,” said Chris. The suit was
thin, black, and a world’s away from the absurd umpire outfit Chris
was originally forced into.

“The fabric is nearly bullet proof,” said
Walt.

“Nearly?”

“Uh-huh. A close range direct shot will make
it through the material, but shouldn't do too much damage to your,
uh, body. Everything else will practically ricochet off you.”

“That's good.” Chris moved his hands over
the rest of the suit and up to the neck line. “What about my
head?”

“I do have a helmet made up for you, but I
wasn't sure if you wanted to wear it. Frank refuses to wear it and
I didn't really know.”

“Umm. What's it look like?”

Walt produced a smooth black helmet with a
leather chin strap. There was nothing particularly dorky about it,
but if the Supers didn't wear one and Frank didn't either Chris
couldn’t break away from the majority. He stared at it and tossed
it back and forth between his hands before putting it on his head.
Chris looked up as if he might see himself magically without a
mirror, then took it off again.

“It's very light and safe,” said Walt.

“Yeah. I'll take it with me and decide
later,” said Chris, before realizing how he sounded.

“Okay,” said Walt, and walked away having
nothing else to do.

Chris pulled off his clothes in a hurry and
jumped into the suit. Light was an understatement. He felt naked in
the skin tight fabric, but his training paid off. Even in black his
physique looked comparable to a professional athlete. Not too bulky
or freakish veins popping out, but in excellent shape. Chris felt
proud of how he looked and wished Sadie could see him without
worrying about what might happen while he was in it.

“Quit looking at yourself,” said Frank, who
obviously had kept in training too by the fit of his uniform. “We
need to train you how to use a gun.” Frank paused and then added,
“So you don’t shoot yourself or me.”

“Or anyone,” said Chris. “I’m not
comfortable carrying a gun and… using it. Shit, I mean I can barely
squish a spider in case I disrupt the space time continuum.”

“It’s just precautionary. We’re not going to
give you a fucking gun and have you walk around the ballpark. Think
for a second, Chris.”

“Is it a big gun?”

“Are you shitting me?”

“Sorry. Let’s go.”

Frank led Chris to the corner of the Fun
Room he had never found himself near. On the way more serious
questions moved to the forefront of Chris’s mind. “Have you trained
with guns already?”

“’Have I trained with guns already?’ Yes,
Chris. It’s okay to shoot a gun, especially if it’s just a
target.”

“Do you take a gun out on missions? Have you
shot anybody on a mission?”

Frank didn’t want to lie and stopped
walking. Chris wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

“A couple missions I brought a gun along
just in case. It was for protection, just like why you need to
learn how to protect yourself,” said Frank.

“Did you kill anybody?”

“No.”

“No… Did you shoot the gun while on a
mission?”

“No.” Frank was getting impatient. “It’s
just for protection, Chris. I don’t want you getting hurt. Nobody
wants you to get hurt. Learning this is going to help you, not make
you into a killer or whatever fucking crazy idea you have in your
head.”

Frank slapped Chris hard on the back and
ushered him to the wall. Frank pressed firmly against the edge and
a section the size of a door hissed open. Chris wanted to say
something about the secret passage in front of them but again
wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the reasons behind it. Inside was
nothing spectacular, but rather just a dull looking firing range
with a small selection of firearms.

As soon as Chris fired a couple of rounds
under Frank’s explicit instructions, from a hidden speaker, Erik
implored them to wrap things up. Chris wasn’t used to the fast pace
of a mission day and found his brain switching to standby mode
while the rest of him followed Frank’s lead.

Outside the familiar black SUV sat at the
curb waiting for them. Johnykin was in the passenger side, leaving
Chris and Frank to share the back.

“Uni looks good,” said Johnykin to Chris as
he sat down.

“I was hoping for something see-through
but…” said Chris.

Frank stopped himself from laughing and
rolled his eyes. Johnykin smirked, but Chris wasn't sure if it was
towards his joke or Frank's reaction. It did the job, though. The
tension had dropped considerably. Another joke popped into Chris's
head. He looked around to his small audience. Frank was transfixed
to his phone and Johnykin gave in to the moving scenery outside. He
decided not to push his luck and pulled his own phone out to eat up
time.

It was an early afternoon game. Tailgaters
sprinkled across the parking lot enjoyed the excuse to get drunk
before lunch. Frank opened his window and the cool breeze off the
ocean rushed into the SUV to wake everyone out of their personal
stupors. The driver took them to the back of the park for security
clearance and entrance. A few staff members waved and welcomed the
Supers as they walked through the gates, while the rest ignored
them completely.

“Who are they playing today?” asked
Johnykin.

“Dodgers,” said Chris quickly.

“You looked it up on your phone right before
we got here,” said Frank.

“Yep. I’m cool like that,” said Chris, and
sped up to walk side by side with Johnykin in front.

Johnykin took in a wide view of the park
around them and then faced Chris and Frank. “Once the game starts
we'll be split up. Walt gave me the radio earpieces. Don't bother
each other until the end to meet up again. This is really a meet
and greet. Take pictures, sign autographs, whatever; just keep
walking around and look like you're enjoying yourself.”

“Can I get a beer?” asked Chris, as he put
in the earpiece and raised his eyebrows at Frank.

Johnykin glared the answer back at him.
Chris thought of another joke and couldn't pass it up. “Should I
wear my helmet in case of fly balls?” Johnykin walked away without
a word. The jokes were too much.

“We’re working, remember,” said Frank.

“Since when did you never have any fun at
work?” said Chris.

“Since my work was actually fun. Just take
it a little more serious.” Frank walked off.

Chris struggled to comprehend the different
approach of a man who once downloaded Chris’s entire route the day
before installation and toilet papered the houses, leaving Chris to
deal with a continuous string of pissed off customers. He also
realized Johnykin and Frank took off in the only two directions
they could walk around the park. To delay figuring out whose
footsteps to follow in, Chris put in his earpiece. It was more
comfortable than he would have guessed and dead silent. In fact he
could still hear everything around him without any distortion or
muffling. After being astonished over this miracle of technology,
Chris took a step along Frank's direction then saw a staircase and
moved up to the next level. The earpiece still amazed him. He
dreamed about Walt sitting at a little workbench with a screwdriver
and welding set putting everything together. A few steps later, the
dream turned to a real question. How the hell was he supposed to
turn the radio part on? It wouldn't be voice activated or they
would be bothering each other every few seconds.

Chris stopped walking and leaned against a
pillar out of the way of the flow of staff traffic bustling around
him. All of them had stopped acknowledging his presence. Probably,
hopefully he thought, because they were busy getting ready for the
game. While still pondering the workings of the very vital piece of
machinery in his ear, Chris pulled the suit’s collar to peer along
the inside for a microphone. He looked for any bump or obvious
mechanical device sewn into the material. There was nothing so he
continued to his arms. He ran his left hand from the shoulder to
the wrist of his right arm slowly and over every inch of fabric.
Nothing. Chris switched and caressed his left arm just as
determinedly. Where could it be he thought. Losing himself in the
search, he ran his thumb underneath the collar on his back and then
groped his shoulder blades, chest, stomach, and lower back without
any more luck. It couldn't be in his waste or legs, could it? He'd
already gone this far. Chris began the search again from his butt
and around his hips to his crotch. Definitely not there. Next his
thighs and finally down his calves.

“What the fuck? You do not look that good in
a Super suit to be doing whatever you’re doing,” said Frank,
watching Chris stand up after checking the end of the suit around
his ankles.

“Huh?” asked Chris

“Oh my God.” Frank laughed, and went to
leave.

Chris finally understood what Frank was
thinking. “I was looking for the receiver or mike for the radio. In
our ears.”

Frank stopped. His back was to Chris and he
lifted his head up, trying to decide if he should believe it.
“You're such an idiot, but fuck... man. Did you try tapping the
radio? Like the parade broadcasters.” Frank tapped his own ear in
exaggerated form.

Chris pushed air into his lips and looked
askance trying his best to appear suspicious of the advice. Feeling
the moment was waning, Chris copied his friend and tapped the radio
in his ear. A short bit of static blipped in and then was cut off
by Frank's words.

“You’re making us look like idiots. Just
work. I like this job and don’t want it screwed up.”

Chris pulled his eyes to his shoes. A
stubborn side flashed in his gut. He should apologize to me. Then
the unseen pressure took over.

“Sorry.”

The words echoed with a slight delay in his
ear. The stubborn part jumped out of his stomach in disgust, but
Chris didn't say anything else. Frank had left once Chris looked
up.

Chris made his way past rows of seats to get
to the edge so he could look out into the pristine grass and dirt
of the playing field. It was a beautiful day. Chris looked at the
seat nearest him and without thinking sat down. Then sprung back up
as a small crackle hit his ear.

“Don't you dare sit down,” said Frank
through the radio. “And don't let me catch you touching yourself in
public again. Listen. It’s like you’re ADHD but not. Pay attention
to what you’re doing.”

“Paying attention,” said Chris.

“Then turn your damn radio off and get to
work.” Another quick buzz of static and silence.

Chris smiled out into the park and reached
his hand up to press the radio off as Frank commanded. Another buzz
popped on with a voice that wasn't Frank's.

“Johnykin, do you read? Johnykin, are you
there? You were supposed to be on by now.”

There was nothing else, which gave Chris a
moment to place the voice. It had to be someone from the labs.
Walt? Don't be stupid, Chris told himself. A new voice bailed him
out.

“Erik, I'm here,” said Johnykin over the
radio.

“What's your analysis of the situation?”
asked Erik.

“Stop trying to talk like a general. You're
terrible at it. Things are fine. The game's about to start. Staff
is busy running around and has gotten over our presence.”

“Then tell me what I want to here.”

“No. It's too big and too early.”

“That's not... Let me remind you who you’re
working for… No…”

The third silence continued for so long
Chris thought his earpiece had turned off.

“Okay, okay. I trust your judgment. We'll
get something else in line quickly. Enjoy the game.”