So Not a Hero (24 page)

I blinked at her a few times, processing her words, and then shrugged. “I go by Karen, actually.”

She laughed again and tapped on the clipboard with the pen as she looked at me. “According to your mother, you only started calling yourself that when you were thirteen. Because of the way that nasty Summers boy down the street teased you.”

What the hell, Mother?
“She’s been telling people about me?” Well, duh, of course she had. I was her superhero daughter now. That’s the kind of thing Rebecca loved to brag about.

The nurse nodded. “I think my personal favorite is the one where you were convinced you could use an umbrella as a parachute and attempted to jump off the house to prove it. I got a kick out of hearing that one.”

My face grew warm. “I was only nine,” I explained. “I still didn’t have a good grasp on the ins and outs of air resistance.”

“Regardless,” she said as she took my mother’s wrist in her fingers. “She’s very proud of you. Even when she doesn’t actually say it, and that’s rare, you can tell in the way she tells people about you.”

I wondered if any of those cute, little stories dealt with my reign of terror as Crushette. Somehow I doubted it. She was probably happy to be on her way to repairing the reputation I’d tarnished. I glanced back down to the sleeping woman, the venom in my blood simmering back into its usual boil.

The nurse released her hold on my mother and wrote on the clipboard. “You know, sometimes your mom’s stories were the only thing that helped her and the others in her chemo group get through the treatments. The day you were revealed as a member of the Good Guys, she told everyone that passed through her room. Even called up a few of her former group members to tell them.”

I shrugged and headed for the door. I’d done enough of ‘the right thing.’ Now at least I knew that she only wanted me to come by so she could point and brag. It was like the Science Award and Honor Society crap all over again.
Here, look at my super smart and perfect daughter. She’s just like me, you know.
I clenched my jaw and silently prayed that I would run into some bad guy who I could slap around.

A nagging feeling at the base of my brain made me stop and look from the nurse to my mother. “How long was she in chemo?”

The pen bounced against her lips a couple of times as she looked up at the ceiling. “Let’s see. She had just finished her second cycle when I came onboard. And she had three more before the doctors felt it wasn’t doing any good and stopped it.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Almost three weeks ago.” She tapped her lips a few more times and then nodded. “Yes, three weeks ago yesterday.”

Three weeks? And she had five rounds of chemotherapy before that. I turned and walked towards the nurse. “And she’s been telling stories about me this whole time?”

Something in my voice or face must have registered an eleven on her danger meter, because she took several steps backwards, her eyes flicking from looking at me to searching for the call button next to my mother’s leg. Her head jerked up and down. “Uh, yes. They were good ones, though. Honest. The worst thing she ever said, that I know of, was that you’d made a mistake, but you’d paid more for it than you should have.”

I couldn’t speak. The nurse’s words and the implications behind them all collided in my brain, making a nightmarish traffic jam that prohibited any immediate vocal response. Instead, all I could manage was to open and close my mouth silently as my mind tried to adjust to this wholly unexpected paradigm. I felt like a fish out of water … and probably looked like one too.

The fear from seconds before morphed into occupational concern and she took a step towards me, reaching out tentatively. “Are you okay? You look like you’re either going to throw up or faint.”

“She … she said that? That my mistake was her fault?”

The nurse, hands still ready to catch me if I should fall—which wouldn’t have worked out well for either of us—nodded. “Yes. She never elaborated on it. It wasn’t until afterwards that we heard you’d been, uh, incarcerated.”

I’d been a Good Guy for less than a month. Less than a month. And yet my mother, the woman who’d called me a murdering freak right before she kicked me out of her life, had been telling people all kinds of good things about me. She’d been bragging on me, sharing childhood tales about me, for nearly six months. Which meant she didn’t start doing it because I’d become a hero.

She did it because I’d been released from prison.

I glanced at her sleeping form, not in a new light, but in an old one. A lost familiar one.

“Are you going to be okay?” she repeated, slowly lowering her hands.

I didn’t have an extensive enough vocabulary to accurately answer the question. While I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to faint, throwing up might still be on the agenda. I nodded slowly, and found some of my wayward words. “Yes. At least, I think so.”

She smiled and picked up the clipboard, stepping over to hang it on the side of my mother’s bed. “Good. I’ve got to see about my next patient, but I’ll be back through in two hours.”

I looked back at my mother and sighed. “I’ll probably be gone by then.”

“Okay. Have a good afternoon.” She smiled and walked to the door, patting me on the arm as she passed. Before she stepped out into the hall, she looked back at me. “Do you want me to tell her you were here? I think it would make her happy to know that you came to see her.”

“Yeah. I’m sure my father will tell her as well. Thanks.”

She nodded and vanished into the hallway. When it was just the two of us again, I went back to the bedside, wincing at the damage I’d done to the railing. Have to make sure that gets billed to me.

I stared at the dying woman, trying to overturn years of anger and frustration. It wasn’t the least bit like turning on or off a light. While I felt a little better due to what the nurse had revealed, there was still so much pain to process and clear away. It was going to take time. Time I was afraid I wasn’t going to have.

“You better not die, you stubborn bitch,” I said, tears forming with a smile. “Not when there’s a chance for us to be a family again.” I leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. The skin beneath my lips was warm and I pulled back before I lost control again and turned into another blubbering mess. “I’ll be back.”

I found my father sitting in a chair outside and he immediately popped to his feet when I came out of the room. From the look on his face, I could guess that the nurse had given him a rundown of our talk.

“Kaori,” he said. “Thank you.”

I waved my hand. “I’m still dealing with this, Father. Let’s not make it a bigger deal than it is.”

“It is a big deal. To me and your mother.”

“I have to go.” I walked past him and stopped a few feet away. “You’ll contact me? If anything changes?”

He nodded. “I promise.”

“Okay,” I said and gave him a tiny smile before walking away.

Outside the hospital, the late afternoon sun had settled behind the taller skyscrapers nearby, casting most of the grounds in grayish shadows. I walked around the courtyard towards the parking garage, thumbing my earpiece as I did.

“Kayo, checking in.”

“Copy that,” Alexis said into my ear. “Greg’s over in the Eastman District. I’ll tell him you’re in the game.”

I added a little impromptu bounce in my step as I passed by the garage entrance, almost wishing I had flight as an Enhancement rather than super speed. “Roger. Tell him I’m going to work my way in his direction.”

At the very moment I realized someone was right behind me, a hand slipped up through the hair on the back of my head and grabbed tight. Before I could spin around, I was yanked sharply upwards, the toes of my boots scraping against the concrete. Then I felt warm breath on the back of my exposed neck.

“Hey there, Red.” Colonel Tank said, giving me a little shake. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

CHAPTER 16: MAKING FRIENDS AND INJURING ENEMIES

“Let go of me, shithead.” I snapped as I grabbed his hand with both of mine and kicked backwards blindly. One of my heels slammed into something that felt like a slab of dura-steel and I was rewarded with a slight “Oomph” from the muscled moron.

He gave me another shake, like an excited puppy with a new toy, and my teeth rattled in my mouth. “Be nice, Red,” he growled.

“What the hell do you want?” I pried at his hand, trying to break either his hold or his fingers. I really didn’t give a damn which.

“To make you to fly again,” he said in a jovial tone. “It was so hilarious the first time.”

He snapped his arm sideways, sending my legs flying out in the opposite direction. My scalp screamed from the pressure and I had a brief moment to question if my durability protected me from being ripped bald. Then his arm swooped back the other way, whiplashing my spine, and his hand released me. I sailed through the air, tumbling in a half-roll through the entrance of the garage and into a nearby row of parked cars.

I hit the first one like a missile, right above the driver’s side door. The strength behind Tank’s throw partnered up with my density and invulnerability and I ripped through the sedan like it had been made of rice paper. The roof sheared off and glass exploded around me as I passed through the other side. The second car—a bright red SUV of some type—fared only slightly better. The side of it simply caved in around me, formed a little pocket of twisted metal, and stopped me from going any further. The cacophony born of the impacts echoed off the concrete walls of the garage.

I shook off the stunned fog and glanced up to see Tank stalking towards me, pounding a fist repeatedly into the palm of his other hand. The malicious smile on his face screamed that he was going to thoroughly enjoy what he had planned for me. Which meant I probably would not. I grabbed the remains of the vehicle’s frame and hauled myself to my feet.

His eyes narrowed and his grin got a little bit wider. I supposed it was at the prospect that playtime wasn’t over yet. “I’m just supposed to rough you up a bit. Make you bleed.” His voice dripped with the promise of agonies-yet-to-come. “Of course, there was no real instruction as to how rough.”

I stepped out of the remains of the SUV and gave the area a quick glance. The last thing I needed was another In-Bee to keep safe while I tangoed with tall, muscular, and stupid. Vaporizer hadn’t directly targeted the civilians in the park, he had just not cared. Tank, on the other hand, would certainly hurt anyone around. He was that kind of guy.

I backed up slowly, brain working double overtime to come up with a plan. “I don’t suppose you want to share who’s bankrolling this visit, would you?” I asked. My confrontation with him during the university battle had been the result of our conflicting objectives. This reeked of being personal.

“I’ll keep that nugget to myself, Red. If you don’t mind.” He waved me towards him with the fingers of one hand. “Tell you what. Come over here and I’ll whisper it in your ear.”

The last pieces of an idea dropped into place and I shook my head. “No way, pal. You need a mint or something first.” I sniffed at the shoulder of my uniform and waved my hand in front of my nose. “That stink of yours is never going to come out.”

The over-muscled thug roared and charged, crossing the space between us faster than someone his size should be able. His arms spread wide, hands ready to test just how indestructible I really was. I think he expected me to stand there and wait for him to lay down the smack. Instead, I did what any intelligent young woman would do in that situation.

I ran the other way.

“Hey!” Tank yelled. “Get back here!”

“Marco!” I screamed as I ran past the undamaged vehicles and kicked into super speed mode, leaving the bruiser in my dust. At the end of the row, I rounded the corner as tightly as possible, managing to not run into an expensive-looking Mercedes. Halfway down this row, on the others side of the wall, was another exit. I pumped my arms back and forth as I pushed towards the opening.

The loud crash that followed me indicated that Tank had destroyed something else, probably another car. The accompanying roars lacked actual words and came off more like the bellow of an angry beast. Guess someone wasn’t happy I’d vamoosed. I only hoped he would continue throwing his tantrum for a little while longer. While it might not be good for some other folks’ insurance premiums, it was vital for what I had in mind.

Outside, I made a sharp left on the sidewalk. I took the turn wide to keep from flattening an old lady walking her dog, and clipped a newspaper machine with my foot. The box jumped free from its mooring and arced over the mostly-empty street, scattering the Sunday editions to the winds, coming down with a crash on the sidewalk. It didn’t even slow me down.

I ran along the outer wall of the parking deck, listening to the sounds of more metal being smashed, and rounded the next corner, this time without damaging any property.

I was back to where this whole dance had started, and the entrance Tank had thrown me through loomed ahead, approaching rapidly. I clenched my teeth and balled my fists as I reached the opening and turned inside. I cannot express the actual joy I felt at the scene before me. Other than to say that the willpower it took not to scream “Yes!” was staggering.

He had his back to me, still facing the direction in which I’d fled. A silver Honda Civic hoisted in his hands. In addition to the two cars I’d destroyed, he had smashed another three. They formed a pile of twisted scrap metal that would take hours to separate. The little coupe was about to be Number Four in the group.

“Polo!” I surged straight toward Tank’s rear, praying silently under my breath that he wouldn’t turn around before I got to him. About ten feet away, I sprang forward with my arms stretched out in front of me. I flew—Supergirl-style—the remaining distance at well over a hundred miles per hour. At the end of the short trip, both of my fists collided with his lower back, one on either side of his spine.

I’d always been a bit of a science nerd, particularly when it came to physics. My favorite equation? Force equals mass times acceleration. And at this moment, my dense mass and the super speed with which I was travelling combined to make me one hell of a force. The impact’s shockwave shattered the windows of the surrounding cars and made my ears ring. It also sent bolts of actual pain shooting up my arms, from wrists to shoulders.

I rebounded backwards like a cue ball and hit the floor of the deck, tumbling several feet before sliding to a stop looking the ceiling. Every bone in my body seemed to vibrate in time with the beat of my heart, and I felt sure that most of my pre-Activation fillings had come loose. Despite the fact that I needed a few minutes—or hours—to recover, I had to get up back before Tank recovered and responded. With a louder groan than I wanted, I sat up and examined the scene.

Tank had dropped the Honda when I hit him and it lay on its side in the middle of the lot. The man himself had been knocked forward and embedded face-first into the Sculpture du Autos, unmoving. I shook the tingling out of my hands as I walked slowly over to him. I couldn’t be sure if he was playing possum or had actually been knocked out. I hoped it was the latter. I slowed to a stop a few feet away and yelled at the bulky, prone form.

“Hey, Tank.” I kept an eye on his hands and legs. I doubted he could bounce up faster than I could run away again, but there was no need to take unnecessary chances. “Is the poor, wittle baby all sleepy from playtime?”

“Mmmm. Mmmph.” His words were unintelligible between the ringing in my ears and the fact that his face was buried in the side of a car door.

“What was that?” I asked as I moved a few steps closer.

One of his arms moved slowly towards his head, the limb trembling in an unexpected manner. His hand pressed down, lifting the top half of him from its resting place so his face could turn to me. From the way his eyes roved back and forth, I could tell was having trouble focusing. “I don’t care what he ordered,” Tank croaked. “I’m going to kill—”

I took two quick steps forward and brought my fist down on his upturned jaw. Tank’s head whipped around the other way and his arm collapsed, dumping him back down on the trashed cars. “Oh, shut the hell up.” I prodded him with my foot to see if he was actually out before I backed away and pressed against the device in my ear. “Phantasm?” There was a tremor in my voice. Probably from the relief that the giant crazy man hadn’t beaten me to a pulp.

“Hey, Karen. What’s up?”

“I need the EAPF to come to Queen Memorial. Actually, the … uh … the parking garage on Terrace. And an ambulance, I think.”

“An ambulance? Karen, what’s wrong?” The note of panic slipping into the teen’s voice didn’t help to enhance my calm.

“Uh … Colonel Tank jumped me on the street and we fought.” I took another step back from the villain. “I think he’s hurt. Pretty badly.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I, uh, knocked him out. Like, cold out.” I couldn’t remember ever hearing about anyone actually knocking out Colonel Tank.

“Kayo,” Greg’s voice cut into the line. “I’m on my way to your location now. Phantasm, notify the EAPF and tell them that we’ve apprehended Colonel Tank. Have them dispatch a transport with an EMU.”

Emu. Enhanced Medical Unit. Basically it was an armored transport with the latest in medical devices designed expressly for treating powered patients.

“Copy, Manpower. Be careful, Kayo. He might be faking.”

I shook my head for the benefit of nobody. “I don’t think so, Lexi-chan.” I kicked Tank’s foot again. “I really don’t think so.”

When the first EAPF officers on the scene arrived fifteen minutes later, the muscle-bound man was still face-down, chest expanding and contracting at a normal rate. I had expected him to wake up before any help arrived. By some miracle, however, he was still snoozing when one of the officers slapped bonding bands around his wrists, waist, and ankles.

Once activated, the bands on his wrists would be pulled to the one around his waist with a redundantly increasing attraction, holding them fast. The same would happen to the units around his ankles. The harder he tried to pull them apart, the greater the opposing force. It was the only way to securely shackle an Enhanced with strength at Class Three and above.

I’d worn the same devices several times during my stay at the Max. I’d found them to be less than comfortable and more than slightly humiliating. Waddling along with your hands right above your crotch and your feet inches apart wasn’t a pretty look for a girl like me. I could only imagine what it be like for Tank with his over-muscled arms.

The second officer brought a hover-stretcher to carry the unconscious brute back to the transport, but neither of them possessed the ability to even roll him over, much less pick him up. I watched them actually try for a few minutes and then decided that, at the rate they were going, Tank would be wide awake and still on the ground. With a sigh, I walked over and looked at them with a smile. “Need a hand?”

One of the officers, a fresh-faced female who looked like she might have just graduated from the academy, laughed. Her partner just gave me a scowl.

“We didn’t realize we’d need to ask one of the Good Guys to help.” The tone of his voice made me want to knock him out too.

“If you want, I can put a bow on him, too.” I shook my head and reached down to haul Tank off the pile of scrap and drop him unceremoniously onto the stretcher. He was lighter than I’d expected, considering his bulk and durability. Apparently he hadn’t been saddled with the “weigh ten times more than you should” clause. I patted the out-cold villain on the head and looked at the female officer. “There you go. My suggestion is to stick him in a deep hole and weld the door shut.”

She nodded and pressed a button on the side of the carrier, disabling the anchor beam so she could push Tank out of the garage to the awaiting transport ship. Her partner looked around the destroyed area and snorted.

“Wonder how much this is going to cost somebody,” he said as he turned back to me with an accusing eye.

Before I could open my mouth—and possibly say something that I would probably regret—Greg’s voice came from behind us. “I don’t think that’s really your concern, officer,” he said as he approached. I turned and saw Kurt a few feet behind him. Conflicting desires bounced through me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kiss him right there or just run away. Again.

“Most businesses have E.A. insurance,” Greg added as he looked around at the results of my battle with Colonel Tank. “And anything not covered by that will be reimbursed from the Paulus Foundation.” He walked over to examine the impression in the scrap metal.

The law enforcer held up his hands, as if needing to defend himself. “Just thinking out loud, Mister Manpower. No need to jump my case, you know?”

Kurt glared at his subordinate. “Concern about compensation for the victims of personal and property damage isn’t a part of your job description, Drake.” He arched a brow. “Unless you got a promotion I wasn’t aware of.”

The officer stiffened and the reddish hue in his face could have been from either embarrassment or anger. He shook his head. “No, sir. As I said, thinking out loud.” He gave me another quick glance and walked away. “I’ll go see if Officer Lane needs a hand with Colonel Tank.”