Lawrence lingered after their Thursday class with Romeo Avenger, waiting until the gym had emptied entirely. He’d spent a good portion of the afternoon in the back of Lola’s car again, and he was starting to feel guilty. “Can I ask for some advice?” he asked his teacher.
“What’s up KP?” Romeo asked, glancing at the door.
Lawrence talked fast, seeing that Romeo wanted to get out of there. “I was just wondering--women really like you.”
“I know.” Romeo flashed him a smile he didn’t really want to analyze.
“So I guess what I’m asking is, well, do you have like, a secret identity girlfriend and a super hero girlfriend? I mean, can that work?”
Romeo grinned at him. “I see. Good for you kid!”
“I’m not feeling very good about it,” Lawrence said. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, but--”
“You have a rare opportunity,” Romeo said. “It is socially acceptable for you to live a double life--not many guys get that option. No one will get hurt as long as you keep your two identities separate. Those are the rules anyway.”
“So it’s okay?”
“Of course.”
“You’re sure.”
“Absolutely.”
“Great,” Lawrence said, not feeling any better. “Thanks.”
He followed Romeo Avenger out of the gym, so he got a full view of Cloud flying (literally) into Romeo’s arms, the two embracing in a kiss that, after about thirty seconds, became very uncomfortable to watch. Lawrence waited for them to finish and unblock the doorway. “Cheers,” Romeo said to Lawrence, and walked down the hall with his arm around Cloud’s waist.
Lawrence had a vague feeling of disapproval, and what did that mean in relation to his behavior? He caught sight of Torch in the hall, watching the couple as well. His face was twisted up into an expression of disgust. “I know what you mean,” Lawrence said, realizing that he needed to do the exact opposite of anything Romeo tells him in relation to women.
America or Lola. He couldn’t have both.
*****
Lola was watching the news that evening when Lawrence called her. “What’s up?” she asked, only half listening as she caught a news item. The chief of police would be holding a live press conference on Monday to address the Dark Lothario problem. The idea sparked through her braid so quickly she barely heard what Lawrence was saying to her. “…so I don’t think we should, you know, fool around anymore…”
“Why?” There was nothing like a live press conference to show people you mean business--to prove to them you were worthy to get into their silly little super villain club.
“I just--I just want to be friends.”
Lola’s fantasies of making the chief of police bark like a dog died as she realized what Lawrence was saying. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“We weren’t really dating, were we?”
“I paid for dinner,” Lola said, feeling dumb. No one had ever had the gall to break up with her before. “Look, can’t we talk about this?”
“No, Lola, I’m sorry. You’re a really great girl and I hope we can still be friends.”
“Friends.” She felt a cold weight settle into her chest. How could anyone say that? She had never understood the concept. Why would she want to be friends with someone who didn’t want to date her anymore. “Great. Sure.” She hung up the phone and tossed it to the other side of the couch. I should march over to his dorm room right now and make him change his mind, she thought. It would serve him right.
She glanced at the television, the newscast now covering a robbery that had been committed by a gang of mimes. “I bet they’re allowed in the club,” she said to herself. She wasn’t sure what she should do. Sit there and cry? Or do something constructive? One of the mimes had been captured and he was speaking to the reporter in sign language, explaining that he worked for the Silent Rogue.
She retrieved her phone and dialed Hannah. She needed exposure if she was going to get anywhere in this city.
*****
Glory sat cross-legged on her bed with her math book, not wanting to concentrate on school. What was the point of going to college when she was going to be a super hero anyway? Wasn’t truth, justice, and the American way more important than Algebra? “Hey Glory,” Lola’s voice called through the door, “I’m going out for a while. Don’t wait up.”
“Out with your boyfriend?” Glory answered in a sing-song voice. When Lola didn’t respond Glory shrugged and got up to stretch. Math was exhausting. She needed brain food if she was going to get anything done.
In the kitchen Glory dug around in the fridge for something interesting but settled for a grilled cheese sandwich. While she was cooking she noticed a burning smell. But it wasn’t coming from her pan. “What the--” Glory looked out the window and saw a column of smoke rising into the sky. It looked like it was only a few blocks away.
She turned off her pan immediately and was already pulling off her shirt and feeling in her drawer for her costume before she stopped herself. She wasn’t supposed to fight crime on her own.
But its not crime--it’s a fire. Someone might need my help. And helping people was more important than the rules.
She flew down the street at her top speed, skidding to a halt at the burning house three blocks away. She’d passed it before and knew it was empty. She had always thought it looked sad with its peeling paint and boarded up windows, but now great orange flames were shooting out of gaping black holes, and everything was so bright and so hot….
Fire trucks were just pulling up as she arrived, and in the ensuing bustle she almost didn’t notice the small huddled figure on the grass in front of the building. Glory recognized Torch’s black fire-resistant suit immediately, and it didn’t take long to figure out what had happened. She hurried to his side. “Torch?” He looked up and she faltered. He wasn’t wearing his mask. They weren’t supposed to see each other without their masks.
Probably realizing the same thing he ducked his head again. “To hell with it,” she said, feeling fierce. “Are you hurt?”
“N-no,” he managed to sputter, still hiding his face.
“C’mon. We have to get you out of here before people start asking questions.”
All of the neighbors were out in their yards watching the carnage, and someone shouted as they moved out of the yard of the burning house, but Glory didn’t stop moving, picking up speed until her velocity was carrying Torch along with her. He didn’t weigh much, and soon they were flying though the streets back to her apartment. Glory didn’t even muse on this handy new aspect of her super-speed, not even once she had him deposited on the couch in the living room.
“I-I shouldn’t be here,” he said.
“Get over it,” Glory said. “Are you sure you’re okay? You should go to the hospital. You might have smoke inhalation or something.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted. She got him a glass of water and he tried to hide his face in his arm when she handed it to him. She noticed a shiny burn scar across his cheek, usually covered by his mask.
“This is ridiculous,” she said, and disappeared into her room, returning with her old pink mask.
He slipped it on. “Thank you,” he said, finally looking at her.
“What happened?”
“I…got upset.”
“Obviously. What on earth were you doing in that crummy old house?”
“Staying there.”
“What?”
“I c-can’t go to school,” he said simply. “It’s too difficult. So no scholarship for me.”
“So the league just dumped you on the streets?”
“No one offered anything better.”
“I’m calling KP,” Glory said, reaching for her phone. “This is absolutely ridiculous. The league doesn’t give us important medical information, they leave you to starve on the streets--what the hell is wrong with this program?”
“America, I’m f-fine. D-don’t call anyone. I’m okay.”
“Like hell you are.”
“We’re in enough trouble as it is.”
“I don’t care. If the League doesn’t want to take care of you, that’s fine. But we’re your friends, Torch. We’re going to take care of you.”
****
Lola explained to her minions exactly what she wanted to do at the press conference from behind her desk, but the two were less than enthusiastic. “It’s not that it isn’t a cool idea Boss,” Hannah said. “But I don’t think we really have the man-power to take on the entire police department.” Kioshi glanced at Hannah and gave a small, apologetic nod.
“I can have the entire room incapacitated with a few words,” Lola said, feeling contrary. “You don’t think I can handle it?”
“Have you ever tried to control that many people at once?” Kioshi asked.
“I can do it,” Lola snapped. She had no idea how many people she could control at once.
“All I’m saying,” Hannah said, “is that if you really want to do this, I think we’re going to have to bring out the big guns. Literally.”
Lola frowned. She couldn’t think of how she could scrounge up any guns on such a short notice. She didn’t like guns as a rule, but at the same time, Hannah made sense. She was hardly going to throw common sense to the wind just because she’d been dumped. “And if I can get you these big guns?” Lola asked.
“I’ll do it,” Kioshi said.
“Me too.” Hannah agreed, but turned to Kioshi. “Have you ever shot a gun?” she asked in a mock whisper.
“No,” he answered back.
“I’m right here,” Lola snapped, annoyed.
“We know,” Hannah said. “Just to check, when we’re arrested, you can post bail and get us a good lawyer, right?”
Lola leaned back in her chair with a groan and stared up at the ceiling. “Next time I need minions I’m going for brainwashed drones.”
“We love you too Boss,” Hannah said, getting up with a bounce. “Make sure my gun is very big. Something…intimidating.”
“Of course.” She slumped in her chair as they left, sighing. That was supposed to go better, she thought. She wasn’t sure what came next. Why did he break up with me? Men love me. It didn’t make sense. She threw herself out of her chair and slammed out of her lair.
It was cold in the middle of the night, so Lola walked quickly to keep warm, the thick high heels of her boots thudding on the sidewalk. She found herself back at the red door. She pounded on it with her flat palm, slapping the door. “Daffodil, damn you,” she cried. “I want in.” The voice on the other end of the intercom didn’t even give her a reply.
“Dammit.”
“Hey, Tits.” Lola recognized the voice. She found Ratface sitting on an empty milk crate behind a garbage can playing a handheld video game.
“Are you always here?” she asked. “And my name isn’t ‘tits’ thank you very much.”
“Nearly always. I can see they’re not letting you in yet.”
“All in good time. Hey--” she said, hoping but not expecting him to be any help. “Do you now where I can get big guns? I need big guns.”
He turned off his game and stashed it in his jacket before standing up. “You say ‘big guns’ like you’re afraid of them.” He shoved his hands into his back pockets, making it obvious that he wanted her to see the handgun tucked into his belt as his clothing shifted. “You claim to be some sort of big bad. So what are you afraid of guns for?”
“I’ve never needed them,” she admitted, staring at his hip where the gun was again concealed by his jacket. She really didn’t like guns.
Ratface laughed out loud. “You don’t know what you’re doing, do you? What are you?”
At that moment it occurred to her that Ratface was not a college student or an engineer. He was a real criminal, and she and her minions, they were just playing like they knew what they were doing. He might be scruffy and odd-looking, but he knew things they didn’t, had done things she could hardly imagine. She was sure he had used that gun. It scared her, and it made her realize what an idiot she had been.
“Are you still looking for a job?” she asked.
“Depends. What do you do, exactly?”
“I make people do what I want them to do.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Jump,” she commanded, and he did. “Smack yourself in the face.” The slap seemed to echo through the alley.
“Ow,” he complained, rubbing his cheek.
“Again--harder.” Ratface complied, wincing even as he did it. This is a wonderful stress reliever. Lola thought.
“Okay, I believe you,” Ratface cried. “So what do you want from me?”
“You’re right. I’m not a criminal,” she said. “I don’t know how to be and neither do my minions. You know. I can tell.”
“And it’s a paying gig?”
“Absolutely.”
“Benefits?”
“You mean like health insurance?”
“Bail, lawyers, that kind of thing. I won’t be thrown to the dogs on you’re your payroll.” The sound of his voice suggested that it might have happened before.
“Of course. But I’d rather none of us got caught. I’m too pretty for prison, though I’m sure I could sway a jury fairly easily.”
“You got it Boss. So what did you need again? Guns?”
“Big guns.”
He laughed. “Sure.”
“By Monday.”
“Doable if you have access to a large amount of cash.” She nodded. “What happens Monday?”
She smiled, her earlier glee returning and Lawrence slipping from her mind for the moment. “I’m going to make the chief of police bark like a dog.”
Ratface threw back his head and laughed. “I think I like you.”
******
Lawrence stretched out on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, a sick feeling in his gut. Dumping Lola was the right thing to do. He knew that. But it didn’t feel right. It felt like he had been on the verge of exploring a new world, but instead he turned around and ran back home. His cell phone rang and afraid that it might be Lola, he almost didn’t answer it. When he saw America’s name on the caller ID, he felt even worse, but he answered.
“You need to come over to my place,” she said before even saying hello, her voice rushing. “Torch is in trouble.”
“Uh, yeah,” he said, sitting up, forgetting his guilt. “Is he hurt?”
“No, it’s just…bad.”
She hung up before he could get anything else out of her, and he called her back as he got up and shoved his feet into shoes. “America? Where do you live?”
A few minutes later he pulled his truck up in front of a rambling Victorian house a couple miles from campus. America and Torch were sitting on the front steps, both in their costumes, except Torch was wearing a sparkly pink mask. “What happened?” he demanded, and America told him about the fire in rushed tones.
“…So Torch needs a place to stay,” she finished quickly.
“I don’t,” he protested. “I can f-find another abandoned house--it’s no big deal.”
“It’s a huge deal,” America said.
“She’s right,” Lawrence said before Torch could protest again. “You need a real place to live.” He took a deep breath, not sure if what he was going to say next was the best thing for him, but he knew it was for Torch. “I have an empty bed in my dorm room. You can come stay with me.”
Torch shook his head so hard his hair flew around him. “I can’t--I can’t do that. I can’t control what happens in my dreams--I could catch the whole dorm on fire. I can’t have so many lives in my hands like th-that.”
Lawrence considered this. “What if we went back to Mim, the costume woman? She could make like, a sleeping bag or something out of that fire resistant material.”
America beamed. “That would be perfect!”
Torch stared at them. “Wh-what about the rules? What about the fact that we’re n-not supposed to know about each other?”
“You shouldn’t have to be alone,” Lawrence said. “We don’t have to tell each other our names if you don’t want to. Hell, if you want to wear a mask all the time, I won’t stop you either. Just let us help you.”
Torch sighed. “You-you won’t take n-no for an answer, will you?”
“Absolutely not,” America replied for Lawrence. He nodded.
“Okay.” Torch said finally.
America hugged him, then jumped up and hugged Lawrence. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck briefly, feeling like he had made the right decision after all.
*****
A/N:
Is it spring yet? Been snowed in all week, and so bored I couldn't barely do more than stare at the TV.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Ch. 11 Week 9
In the steamy interior of Lola’s BMW she climbed up to the front seat to check her lipstick in the rearview mirror. It definitely needed some touching up, since most of it had smeared off across several portions of Lawrence’s anatomy. In the back he was pulling his shirt back on. He leaned forward. “What time is it?” he asked, still breathing heavy.
Lola fished her cell phone out of her purse. “Going on five.”
“Crap,” he said, and leaned over her to retrieve his flannel shirt from the dashboard. “I gotta get going.”
“You have another hot date?” Lola questioned, digging in her bag for her lipstick.
“Night class,” he said, buttoning his shirt.
Lola found her hairbrush and raked it through her now sloppy waves. “I gotta get going too,” she offered. “Job.”
“You work?” he questioned, sounding surprised.
“Here and there,” she answered, doing her best to be vague. “Need me to drop you anywhere?”
“No thanks, I can walk.”
They both tumbled out of the car and Lola stood opposite Lawrence. She grinned when she saw he had miss-buttoned his shirt, but didn’t say anything. He had a slightly glazed expression from a good hour in her backseat. “Well,” he said. “That was um, enlightening.”
“I’ll have you corrupted yet,” she teased. They hadn’t had sex, which was fine with her, if only because the back of a car was not really roomy enough if there were other options. Something seemed to be holding him back. Maybe he wanted to take things slow. It was kind of sweet, and definitely a refreshing change. Of course, this was the first time she wanted a guy for something other than sex or to look good on her arm at parties.
“Soon,” he promised, and they kissed, Lawrence surprising her by pushing her up against the car, his hand sliding up her skirt and clutching her hip. Lola moaned against his lips…why did he have to go…
Lawrence pulled away too soon. “I’ll call you later, he offered, and she nodded. “And coffee tomorrow?”
“Unless you can think of anything more interesting to do,” she said, and he left her alone in the parking deck, with an annoying warmth in her lower extremities that refused to go away. “You’re doomed,” she told herself, climbing into the car and starting the engine. She had better things to do than lust after a math geek that looked twelve.
Lola drove over to the garage where she kept her Lotus. She had brainwashed a man into letting her use it. It opened up into an alley that was rarely occupied by more than a garbage can or a stray cat. She changed into the Mind Mistress’s costume and traded cars, driving the rest of the way to her lair in style.
Kioshi and Hannah were waiting for her there, matching in their black dusters and black t-shirts. She had talked to Kioshi earlier that evening--apparently they had good news for her. She’d sent them out to comb the city looking for any signs of a meeting place for other super villains. Despite her minions, despite Lawrence, she still felt alone. The city was crawling with dozens of super villains and hundreds of more run of the mill criminals. She was sure they were off networking somewhere in the city.
“What have you got for me?” she asked them.
“We found a club,” Hannah told her, handing her a slip of paper with a west side address on it, only a few blocks from the lair. “No name, just the address. It’s very underground. There’s a red door. You need a password.”
“Wonderful.”
“We couldn’t figure it out.”
“That’s okay,” Lola said. If her mother could mind control herself into a bank vault, getting past a password was bound to be little difficulty.
Kioshi spoke up. “Do you want us to come with you?”
“No,” Lola said after some consideration. “Not until I’ve scouted the place out. I wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble before I know its trustworthy.”
“But our job is to protect you,” Kioshi argued, and Hannah nodded in agreement. “You can’t go on your own.”
“Sure I can.” If Dark Lothario was there she didn’t want to meet her potential father with a slew of people in tow. She’d wondered what she wanted to happen when the time came. Did she want him to recognize her, to accept her? Glory was right--what he did to those women was terrible, no matter how much they enjoyed it at the time. Her mother was bad, but at least Mesmera didn’t ruin people’s lives. Her instincts told her that he was her father. Maybe it would be best if her instincts were wrong.
“I’ll be fine,” Lola promised them. “If I run into trouble I’ll call you.” She had given them both phones with all the bells and whistles available.
“We’ll stay here so we’ll be close,” Hannah told her.
Lola nodded in acquiescence.
******
Lawrence arrived a few minutes late to his second meeting with the Golden Swami. She had confiscated one of the second floor classrooms--they were mostly empty--and had turned it into a large spacious office. She a large chair situated behind an old wooden desk at the front of the room and had scattered brightly woven rugs across the floor and filled a ledge under the windows lining one wall with various plants. She was sitting in a well upholstered armchair in one corner, a small table sporting a full tea service at her side, while he had an old wooden folding chair to sit in in front of a table littered with various objects that he was supposed to practice with.
“You’re late,” she chided as soon as he stepped into the door, giving him a studying look. He hoped there wasn’t any lipstick on his face or collar. Lola had been…wonderful. And in the car there wasn’t as many items or enough space to send stuff flying around them, which was good because if there had been…it would have looked like a tornado.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sitting down in the hard chair. “I had--a thing.”
“Your shirt is buttoned wrong,” she told him.
“Oh.” He started to undo his shirt but a yardstick flashed out of nowhere and smacked his knuckles. He yelped and jumped back, out of the Swami’s limited reach. “Hey!”
She propped the stick up against the arm of her chair. “Don’t use your fingers,” she told him. “Use your mind.”
Use my mind? A mind still reeling from the time spent with Lola? A mind that was incapable of voluntary activity greater than turning a page in a book? “I don’t think I can,” he told her.
“You’re not leaving tonight until you figure it out.” She gave him a demure smile and poured herself a cup of tea. It was going to be a long night.
*****
Lola could feel her hands shaking with nervousness as she approached the address Hannah had given her. The building was an abandoned factory, but she could tell that it wasn’t really. It was a little bit better kept up than other buildings on the block, and Lola found the red door Hannah had mentioned almost immediately. It was heavy and didn’t budge when she tried to open it. There was no buzzer, so she simply knocked.
A moment later she heard the crackle of a hidden intercom. “Password?” a man’s voice asked.
Lola stood up straight and tried to feel confident, though she knew it wasn’t going to work. She couldn’t force anyone to do anything through an intercom. She needed both visual and auditory contact. “My name is the Mind Mistress,” she said. “Let me in.”
“Not the password.”
She frowned and looked around for any clue at all. The street boasted only a cracked sidewalk and a few stacks of empty crates against one wall of the building. The stack of crates began to laugh at her. “Who’s there?” she demanded.
“Just me,” the laugh answered, and emerged from behind the crates as a compact, beady-eyed young man with off-brown hair and dirty jeans. “I’m called Ratface.”
“I can see why,” she replied. He had a sly look to his slightly pointy face.
“I’m a henchman,” he offered. “Though, out of work at the moment,” he
added.
“Well, I already have minions, I’m sorry,” she said, annoyed with the whole situation.
“Minion? Me? Never. I want cash, lady, if I’m going to be working for anyone.” He sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of one of the fingerless gloves he was wearing. She could see why he was out of work.
“Do you know the password?” she asked him hopefully.
“Well I don’t think I’d be sharing it with the likes of you, now would I?” he replied. “Who’re you anyway, Miss Mind Mistress?”
“I’m new in town,” she told him.
“I know you are. I would have noticed a chick like you.” His eyes traveled over her body.
“Stop looking at my boobs.” His chin snapped up, giving her the eye contact that she needed. “Tell me the password.”
“It’s ‘daffodil,’” he answered. “But it doesn’t matter. They wont let you in if they haven’t heard of you. Why do you think I’m sitting out here? I’m hoping to ride in on someone else’s coat tails. Instead, you show up. No bleeping help there.”
“I need to get inside,” she insisted. “There has to be a way.”
“It’s an elite club,” Ratface said. “They won’t let just anyone in, no matter how hot you are.”
Lola sighed and turned on her heels, knowing when she was beat. Ratface called after her: “Hey! You need a henchman? I’m cheap!” She rolled her eyes and kept walking.
******
It took Lawrence most of the evening to master buttoning and unbuttoning his shirt, but finally he was able to do it with little difficulty, and the Golden Swami seemed pleased with their work. “I can practically feel the talent waiting to burst out of you,” she told him. “You just have to learn to let it flow.” She used her telekinesis to lift herself up out of the chair and she floated past him and out of the room.
“Show off,” he muttered, buttoning his shirt with his actual fingers for a last time.
******
Glory sat on the floor in the hall outside the Golden Swami’s office. She’d been waiting for KP forever. All of her homework was done and packed back into her bag and she was reading a romance novel her mother had sent her, “Bethany’s Bridegroom,” when the door finally opened. Glory stared at the Swami floating down the hall, and KP trudged out behind her, looking tired and pale.
“That woman is trying to kill me,” he said, offering a hand and pulling Glory to her feet. “I have the worst migraine ever.”
“Poor baby,” she cooed, being properly concerned and giving him a tight hug. “Does she burn incense in there?” she asked him, noting a less than masculine aroma on his clothes. “You smell like flowers.”
“Um, yeah,” he said, pulling away. “Let’s go downstairs and get something to eat.”
He picked up her bag and they made their way to the lounge, empty in the late hour. KP collapsed on one of the couches while Glory sifted through the kitchen. “Pizza?” she asked, opening the freezer.
“Sounds good.”
Glory put a frozen pizza in the oven and KP sat up to make room for her on the couch. It was very quiet in the empty lounge and she was acutely aware of how alone they were. Ever since the day he had pushed her up against the lockers she had been a little nervous about being alone with him, not because she was afraid he would try to do something she didn’t want him to, but because she just hated the idea of telling him ‘no‘. “What did you learn today?” she asked.
She felt a sudden coolness at her collar and she looked down to see the top button of her lavender polo shirt had popped open. As she watched the second button worked its way out of its hole. “That is so cool,” she breathed, momentarily enthralled with the concept of being literally undressed by a man’s mind. Stupid romance novel, she cursed to herself.
Glory sat completely still as the third button came undone. The shirt was old and leaning towards too small so the collar gaped open, showing the slightest bit of cleavage. She’d worn less around KP in Romeo’s class, but this was different.
“You are so bright and beautiful and glorious,” KP said quietly, and Glory’s heart surged in her chest. She couldn’t tell him her name, but he still knew. “I wish you’d let me in.”
She bit her lower lip. “KP…I don’t believe in getting too physical unless there is a strong, loving, permanent relationship. We’re not there yet,” she said softly. “I hope we will be one day.”
He nodded, looking grim. “Okay America.”
“I understand if you don’t want to see me any more.”
“Do you really think I’m so shallow?”
She shrugged, wanting to cry. “You’re a boy. Boys want to have sex. And it’s not that I don’t--I do--I just want it to mean something.”
He gave her a hug. “Okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. And I’m sorry if you’ve felt pressured. I didn’t mean for you to.”
Feeling a sense of relief, Glory leaned against him. “I’m glad.”
******
A/N:
Sorry for the lateness. School is out and I dont have internet or a car, and it's been snowy. Updates might be wonky over xmas break, but they will still happen weekly. It'll just be a surprise which day.
This is my favorite chapter so far. I cackled madly while writing the end with Glory and Lawrence. And then there's the intro of Ratface, who will be important. He's named after a cat I used to have. He was cute in an ugly sort of way.
Anon: if you catch a typo go ahead and tell me. I might not be motivated enough to go fix it, but it's good to know they're there. :) Glad you like the story.
Lola fished her cell phone out of her purse. “Going on five.”
“Crap,” he said, and leaned over her to retrieve his flannel shirt from the dashboard. “I gotta get going.”
“You have another hot date?” Lola questioned, digging in her bag for her lipstick.
“Night class,” he said, buttoning his shirt.
Lola found her hairbrush and raked it through her now sloppy waves. “I gotta get going too,” she offered. “Job.”
“You work?” he questioned, sounding surprised.
“Here and there,” she answered, doing her best to be vague. “Need me to drop you anywhere?”
“No thanks, I can walk.”
They both tumbled out of the car and Lola stood opposite Lawrence. She grinned when she saw he had miss-buttoned his shirt, but didn’t say anything. He had a slightly glazed expression from a good hour in her backseat. “Well,” he said. “That was um, enlightening.”
“I’ll have you corrupted yet,” she teased. They hadn’t had sex, which was fine with her, if only because the back of a car was not really roomy enough if there were other options. Something seemed to be holding him back. Maybe he wanted to take things slow. It was kind of sweet, and definitely a refreshing change. Of course, this was the first time she wanted a guy for something other than sex or to look good on her arm at parties.
“Soon,” he promised, and they kissed, Lawrence surprising her by pushing her up against the car, his hand sliding up her skirt and clutching her hip. Lola moaned against his lips…why did he have to go…
Lawrence pulled away too soon. “I’ll call you later, he offered, and she nodded. “And coffee tomorrow?”
“Unless you can think of anything more interesting to do,” she said, and he left her alone in the parking deck, with an annoying warmth in her lower extremities that refused to go away. “You’re doomed,” she told herself, climbing into the car and starting the engine. She had better things to do than lust after a math geek that looked twelve.
Lola drove over to the garage where she kept her Lotus. She had brainwashed a man into letting her use it. It opened up into an alley that was rarely occupied by more than a garbage can or a stray cat. She changed into the Mind Mistress’s costume and traded cars, driving the rest of the way to her lair in style.
Kioshi and Hannah were waiting for her there, matching in their black dusters and black t-shirts. She had talked to Kioshi earlier that evening--apparently they had good news for her. She’d sent them out to comb the city looking for any signs of a meeting place for other super villains. Despite her minions, despite Lawrence, she still felt alone. The city was crawling with dozens of super villains and hundreds of more run of the mill criminals. She was sure they were off networking somewhere in the city.
“What have you got for me?” she asked them.
“We found a club,” Hannah told her, handing her a slip of paper with a west side address on it, only a few blocks from the lair. “No name, just the address. It’s very underground. There’s a red door. You need a password.”
“Wonderful.”
“We couldn’t figure it out.”
“That’s okay,” Lola said. If her mother could mind control herself into a bank vault, getting past a password was bound to be little difficulty.
Kioshi spoke up. “Do you want us to come with you?”
“No,” Lola said after some consideration. “Not until I’ve scouted the place out. I wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble before I know its trustworthy.”
“But our job is to protect you,” Kioshi argued, and Hannah nodded in agreement. “You can’t go on your own.”
“Sure I can.” If Dark Lothario was there she didn’t want to meet her potential father with a slew of people in tow. She’d wondered what she wanted to happen when the time came. Did she want him to recognize her, to accept her? Glory was right--what he did to those women was terrible, no matter how much they enjoyed it at the time. Her mother was bad, but at least Mesmera didn’t ruin people’s lives. Her instincts told her that he was her father. Maybe it would be best if her instincts were wrong.
“I’ll be fine,” Lola promised them. “If I run into trouble I’ll call you.” She had given them both phones with all the bells and whistles available.
“We’ll stay here so we’ll be close,” Hannah told her.
Lola nodded in acquiescence.
******
Lawrence arrived a few minutes late to his second meeting with the Golden Swami. She had confiscated one of the second floor classrooms--they were mostly empty--and had turned it into a large spacious office. She a large chair situated behind an old wooden desk at the front of the room and had scattered brightly woven rugs across the floor and filled a ledge under the windows lining one wall with various plants. She was sitting in a well upholstered armchair in one corner, a small table sporting a full tea service at her side, while he had an old wooden folding chair to sit in in front of a table littered with various objects that he was supposed to practice with.
“You’re late,” she chided as soon as he stepped into the door, giving him a studying look. He hoped there wasn’t any lipstick on his face or collar. Lola had been…wonderful. And in the car there wasn’t as many items or enough space to send stuff flying around them, which was good because if there had been…it would have looked like a tornado.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sitting down in the hard chair. “I had--a thing.”
“Your shirt is buttoned wrong,” she told him.
“Oh.” He started to undo his shirt but a yardstick flashed out of nowhere and smacked his knuckles. He yelped and jumped back, out of the Swami’s limited reach. “Hey!”
She propped the stick up against the arm of her chair. “Don’t use your fingers,” she told him. “Use your mind.”
Use my mind? A mind still reeling from the time spent with Lola? A mind that was incapable of voluntary activity greater than turning a page in a book? “I don’t think I can,” he told her.
“You’re not leaving tonight until you figure it out.” She gave him a demure smile and poured herself a cup of tea. It was going to be a long night.
*****
Lola could feel her hands shaking with nervousness as she approached the address Hannah had given her. The building was an abandoned factory, but she could tell that it wasn’t really. It was a little bit better kept up than other buildings on the block, and Lola found the red door Hannah had mentioned almost immediately. It was heavy and didn’t budge when she tried to open it. There was no buzzer, so she simply knocked.
A moment later she heard the crackle of a hidden intercom. “Password?” a man’s voice asked.
Lola stood up straight and tried to feel confident, though she knew it wasn’t going to work. She couldn’t force anyone to do anything through an intercom. She needed both visual and auditory contact. “My name is the Mind Mistress,” she said. “Let me in.”
“Not the password.”
She frowned and looked around for any clue at all. The street boasted only a cracked sidewalk and a few stacks of empty crates against one wall of the building. The stack of crates began to laugh at her. “Who’s there?” she demanded.
“Just me,” the laugh answered, and emerged from behind the crates as a compact, beady-eyed young man with off-brown hair and dirty jeans. “I’m called Ratface.”
“I can see why,” she replied. He had a sly look to his slightly pointy face.
“I’m a henchman,” he offered. “Though, out of work at the moment,” he
added.
“Well, I already have minions, I’m sorry,” she said, annoyed with the whole situation.
“Minion? Me? Never. I want cash, lady, if I’m going to be working for anyone.” He sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of one of the fingerless gloves he was wearing. She could see why he was out of work.
“Do you know the password?” she asked him hopefully.
“Well I don’t think I’d be sharing it with the likes of you, now would I?” he replied. “Who’re you anyway, Miss Mind Mistress?”
“I’m new in town,” she told him.
“I know you are. I would have noticed a chick like you.” His eyes traveled over her body.
“Stop looking at my boobs.” His chin snapped up, giving her the eye contact that she needed. “Tell me the password.”
“It’s ‘daffodil,’” he answered. “But it doesn’t matter. They wont let you in if they haven’t heard of you. Why do you think I’m sitting out here? I’m hoping to ride in on someone else’s coat tails. Instead, you show up. No bleeping help there.”
“I need to get inside,” she insisted. “There has to be a way.”
“It’s an elite club,” Ratface said. “They won’t let just anyone in, no matter how hot you are.”
Lola sighed and turned on her heels, knowing when she was beat. Ratface called after her: “Hey! You need a henchman? I’m cheap!” She rolled her eyes and kept walking.
******
It took Lawrence most of the evening to master buttoning and unbuttoning his shirt, but finally he was able to do it with little difficulty, and the Golden Swami seemed pleased with their work. “I can practically feel the talent waiting to burst out of you,” she told him. “You just have to learn to let it flow.” She used her telekinesis to lift herself up out of the chair and she floated past him and out of the room.
“Show off,” he muttered, buttoning his shirt with his actual fingers for a last time.
******
Glory sat on the floor in the hall outside the Golden Swami’s office. She’d been waiting for KP forever. All of her homework was done and packed back into her bag and she was reading a romance novel her mother had sent her, “Bethany’s Bridegroom,” when the door finally opened. Glory stared at the Swami floating down the hall, and KP trudged out behind her, looking tired and pale.
“That woman is trying to kill me,” he said, offering a hand and pulling Glory to her feet. “I have the worst migraine ever.”
“Poor baby,” she cooed, being properly concerned and giving him a tight hug. “Does she burn incense in there?” she asked him, noting a less than masculine aroma on his clothes. “You smell like flowers.”
“Um, yeah,” he said, pulling away. “Let’s go downstairs and get something to eat.”
He picked up her bag and they made their way to the lounge, empty in the late hour. KP collapsed on one of the couches while Glory sifted through the kitchen. “Pizza?” she asked, opening the freezer.
“Sounds good.”
Glory put a frozen pizza in the oven and KP sat up to make room for her on the couch. It was very quiet in the empty lounge and she was acutely aware of how alone they were. Ever since the day he had pushed her up against the lockers she had been a little nervous about being alone with him, not because she was afraid he would try to do something she didn’t want him to, but because she just hated the idea of telling him ‘no‘. “What did you learn today?” she asked.
She felt a sudden coolness at her collar and she looked down to see the top button of her lavender polo shirt had popped open. As she watched the second button worked its way out of its hole. “That is so cool,” she breathed, momentarily enthralled with the concept of being literally undressed by a man’s mind. Stupid romance novel, she cursed to herself.
Glory sat completely still as the third button came undone. The shirt was old and leaning towards too small so the collar gaped open, showing the slightest bit of cleavage. She’d worn less around KP in Romeo’s class, but this was different.
“You are so bright and beautiful and glorious,” KP said quietly, and Glory’s heart surged in her chest. She couldn’t tell him her name, but he still knew. “I wish you’d let me in.”
She bit her lower lip. “KP…I don’t believe in getting too physical unless there is a strong, loving, permanent relationship. We’re not there yet,” she said softly. “I hope we will be one day.”
He nodded, looking grim. “Okay America.”
“I understand if you don’t want to see me any more.”
“Do you really think I’m so shallow?”
She shrugged, wanting to cry. “You’re a boy. Boys want to have sex. And it’s not that I don’t--I do--I just want it to mean something.”
He gave her a hug. “Okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. And I’m sorry if you’ve felt pressured. I didn’t mean for you to.”
Feeling a sense of relief, Glory leaned against him. “I’m glad.”
******
A/N:
Sorry for the lateness. School is out and I dont have internet or a car, and it's been snowy. Updates might be wonky over xmas break, but they will still happen weekly. It'll just be a surprise which day.
This is my favorite chapter so far. I cackled madly while writing the end with Glory and Lawrence. And then there's the intro of Ratface, who will be important. He's named after a cat I used to have. He was cute in an ugly sort of way.
Anon: if you catch a typo go ahead and tell me. I might not be motivated enough to go fix it, but it's good to know they're there. :) Glad you like the story.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Ch. 10 Week 8
Lola found herself inexplicably looking forward to tuesday afternoon, when Lawrence Lawrence would be waiting for her as she got out of Psychology. As soon as the professor gave them the signal she packed up her books and was out the door. Lawrence was waiting, as usual.
"Hi," he said, and she resisted the urge to kiss him in greeting. What was she thinking?
Glory was right. He was no Antonio, no Jean-Luc. Why on earth did she find him so fascinating? She tried to quell the nervous fluttering in her chest. Antonio had never done this to her. "Hello, Lawrence," she said, trying to stay cool. "Coffee?"
"Of course." They walked together in companionable silence.
"How was your weekend?" he asked her eventually.
"Uneventful," she said. The truth was, she had taken the Lotus out for a joy ride and had to mind control herself out of not one, but two speeding tickets. "Studying, mostly. What about you?"
"The same."
"We are boring people," she offered, and he laughed a little too readily. "Lawrence?"
"Yes?"
"Do you want to go out? Like on a date?" She hadn't had any intentions on asking him, the invitation blurting out of her mouth by pure instinct. He stopped dead on the stairs they were climbing down.
"Are you serious?"
"I think so."
"I thought you just wanted to be friends. We've been having coffee for two weeks now...you didn't even want the first cup if I remember correctly."
"Well, I changed my mind," she said. "Do you want to go out with me or what? I can be a lot of fun." She gave him her best seductive smile. It usually had a melting effect on men, and this was no exception. She had to grab onto his arm to keep him from stumbling down the stairs.
"I guess we could go out."
"Great. What are you doing Wednesday night? " Glory would be at her League meeting until late--Lola would have the apartment to herself.
"I can't on Wednesday," he said quickly. "I have Friday free."
"Friday it is," she said with a smile. "You still want that coffee?" He nodded. "Great. Don’t fall down the stairs anymore."
*****
Lawrence could hardly believe his luck. The beautiful, sexy, wonderful Lola wanted to go on a date--with short, dweebish him. He felt like he could float as high as Cloud, but one small dread kept him grounded. America. He wasn’t against lying in general--it was a necessary evil when it came to keeping his two identities separate--but going out with another girl behind America's back seemed a little bit more severe.
We never said we were exclusive, he thought to himself as he walked to Memorial Hall for their Tuesday night class with Romeo. And for all I know Lola and I won't work out. There is no reason to feel the least bit guilty.
The thought was of little comfort when America ran to meet him, all smiles and blond hair and innocence. She was nothing like Lola. Her body was firm and athletic, her radiance so much that he felt sure she emitted an actual glow sometimes. She couldn’t be seductive if she tried.
"I missed you," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. "It's not fair that you need to take an extra class every week. I barely get to see you now."
"It is necessary if I want to be of any use to the League," he answered, returning her kiss with one on the mouth. She was wearing strawberry flavored lip gloss. "Between my weak telekinesis and my poor fighting skills, I wouldn’t last one battle with the most lame of super villains." One evening with the Gold Swami had left him properly humbled. The tiny woman could do things he had never even dreamed possible, and he was beginning to understand how much he had hindered his progress by trying to hide and ignore his powers.
"You need to practice," America agreed. "I can't go around dating a wimp, now can I?"
"That makes me feel really good about myself," he said, and she grinned and took off to meet with Cloud, who had just entered the room. Lawrence saw Torch sitting on the bleachers, his hands still heavily bandaged. He went over to sit down next to his friend. "How are you doing?"
"M-managing."
"Good."
"I'm going to have to go to physical therapy for a few weeks, but the doctors don’t think I'm going to suh-suffer long term."
"That's good too," Lawrence offered.
"The League is arranging--arranging both therapy and training for me," Torch continued, looking dejected. "I've b-been in therapy for thirteen years. I don’t think it's helping any." Torch didn’t offer anymore details, and Lawrence didn’t ask, though he was highly curious.
As soon as class started Lawrence had to concentrate on his stance and
footing, and didn’t have time to dwell on Torch, or America and Lola for that matter. That was probably a good thing.
*******
Lola both looked forward to and dreaded Friday night. She loved spending time with Lawrence, but Glory was right. He wasn’t her type, at all. Maybe it wouldn’t work out, and she wouldn’t have to worry about it. Maybe it didn’t matter.
He met her at a little Italian restaurant downtown. Luigi’s was authentic--down to the checkered tablecloths and candles in bottles. Lola had found it with Glory before school had started, back when it was more normal between them and she actually saw her best friend. That’s why you’re attracted to him, she told herself, watching him pull up to the curb in a disgusting white pickup truck. You’re just lonely. “Maybe I should get an actual puppy instead.”
Lawrence looked nervous and cute. He was usually scruffy, but he had tried to clean himself up and was wearing a button-up black shirt (un-tucked) and jeans. “You’re beautiful,” he offered. She was just wearing her school clothes for that day--knee-high black boots and grey tights under a short black dress--but he didn’t seem to care.
“It’s no big deal,” she offered.
“You always look so…polished.” She wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, so she just smiled, and he opened the door for her and they went inside.
Once they were seated Lawrence looked at the menu and his eyes widened at the prices. She could see him begin to do calculations in his head. “Don’t worry about it,” she offered. “Its my treat.”
He blushed. “You can’t pay--”
“Sure I can,” she shot back immediately. “I asked you out, remember? I do the asking, I do the buying.” He looked like he was going to argue. “Just drop it,” she ordered, and he did.
When the waiter came Lola ordered a bottle of wine. “ID please?” he asked her. He didn’t look much older.
“He’s got you there Lola,” Lawrence remarked.
If she were by herself she could simply force the man to bring her a bottle, but Lawrence had his eye on her, watching what she did next. She reached for her purse and pulled out a fifty. “You’ll have another one on the table at the end of the night if you bring me a bottle of your best.”
He glanced around the restaurant before accepting the bill. “I’ll be happy to,” he said, and disappeared.
Lawrence was staring at her.
“If you give anyone enough money, they’ll do whatever you want,” she explained.
“I wish I could throw around money like that,” Lawrence said, looking down at his menu.
“My mother is Jolie Marriweather,” she offered. “She’s a famous writer.”
“Never heard of her,” he said.
“It’s always shocking how often I hear that.” She hid a grin. Her mother might enjoy brainwashing people into thinking she was someone special, but Lola kept up the story only because announcing to your date that your mother was a bank robber tended to make the evening weird.
When the wine arrived Lawrence took a sip and nodded. “You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a little scary sometimes, Lola,” he said.
“Is that bad or good?”
He swallows a gulp of wine. “I wish I knew.”
*****
Lawrence felt awkward when Lola forked over a small fortune for dinner, but she didn’t seem too concerned about it, so he tried not to be either. After they ate Lola suggested they take a walk, as it was uncharacteristically warm for October.
Downtown was well lit, and he was a super hero after all, so Lawrence agreed, and they fell in step together down the sidewalk. He felt her freeze for a moment when he slipped his hand into hers, and he dropped it immediately. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“No, it’s okay,” she answered. “I’m just not used to the idea of hand-holding.”
“You’ve never held hands with anyone before?” He assumed that was what girls liked to do--whenever he was with America her hand seemed to gravitate towards his.
“I don’t usually date guys who are into…holding hands.”
He didn’t want to ask, but was compelled to anyway. “So what are they into?” She gave him a wicked grin, and glanced around them. Though it was late there were still people out and about. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the doorway of a boutique that had already closed for the night. Her body was pressed up close against him, and he stared into her big dark eyes. “Lola?”
She kissed him lightly, cupping his cheek with one hand. “You are adorable,” she whispered. “So not my type.” Her lips were close to his--if he just leaned forward a few centimeters…
“Then why are you here?” he managed to ask.
“Have you ever been corrupted?” she asked. He shook his head. “Do you want to be?” All Lawrence could do was nod, and she leaned forward, pressing her mouth against his, and it was all over from there. He had never been kissed like that before. Granted, before joining the League he had never been kissed, but Lawrence knew that Lola was something special.
He found himself clutching her tightly against him, as his mouth explored her lips and tongue before trekking further to taste her neck. He held her tight around the waist but was afraid to let his hands stray elsewhere, because he knew that she was going to realize that he didn’t know what the hell he was doing, and laugh in his face.
Behind them something crashed, and Lola jumped, knocking her forehead into his. “Ow,” she said, and laughed, pulling away. “What was that?”
Lawrence rubbed his forehead and turned to see what the issue was. What had once been a neat shop window, mannequins lined up sporting the latest fall fashions, was now a mess. All of the dummies had fallen into a heap, white plastic limbs sticking up everywhere. “Must have been a chain reaction,” Lawrence offered. “One fell and the rest followed.” Or he had knocked them over. Like the floating coffee cup. Was being a hero really worth not being normal?
“Weird,” she offered. “I wonder how they fell.” But she didn’t wonder too long, because she was grinning at him. It was an odd, honest sort of smile, not like her usual seductive expressions. “Well? What do you think?”
“I think I’ve been sufficiently corrupted,” Lawrence offered. “Thank you.”
Lola laughed. “You’re welcome.”
“But we’d better head back. Everything is closing now--we don’t want to be the only ones out here.”
“There’s safety in numbers,” she offered, but she let him lead her back to her car, a shiny black BMW. She was rich. Really rich. “It’s got a big back seat,” she offered, and he was tempted.
“Let’s save something for the second date,” he said finally.
“You are too much of a gentleman,” she offered, and kissed his cheek before getting into the car. “I’ll see you Tuesday.”
“Definitely.”
Once she had driven away he walked back to his truck, not feeling anywhere near as exulted as he should.
*****
Glory bounced around the apartment Saturday afternoon before heading out to her League training. “Have you seen my silver dangly earrings?” she asked, popping her head into Lola’s room. Lola was wearing an oversized green t-shirt and a pair of striped underwear, stretched out on the floor surrounded with books. Her friend was so weird.
“They were by the sink a few days ago,” Lola offered.
“I tried there--I think I moved them.”
“Why do you need earrings for a combat class?”
“KP and are going to hang out afterward. I want to look my best.”
“So it’s a date?”
“Not really,” Glory said with a frown. “We’re both pretty tapped, and we get all kinds of weird looks when we go out in public wearing masks. Mostly we just hang out on campus or in Memorial Hall.” The lack of actual dates didn’t bother her--she liked the casual camaraderie they were building. Still, dressing up and going out sometime might be fun.
“I’m sure he’ll get over you not wearing earrings. Guys don’t notice that stuff anyway.”
“Well, I do,” Glory said. “Oh well. I’m gonna be late anyway.”
“Better run,” Lola agreed.
“Not a problem.” And she rushed out of the apartment, her feet barely skimming the sidewalk as she crossed the city and reached class just as Romeo did.
*****
Lawrence dreaded meeting America before their training session, but she was almost late and wasn’t able to do more than say hello before they got started, giving him an extra hour to figure out what the hell he was doing.
He had no clue. America was wonderful--beautiful and strong, a goddess. And she was honest. That was the most painful thing. She was so true, and he was…not. But he didn’t want to break up with her. She understood what it was like to have powers, to be in the program. How long could he really hide his true identity from Lola before she started suspecting something?
And Lola. What if he turned out to be a disappointment to her? What if she kept wanting to go out to fancy restaurants that he couldn’t afford? The idea of getting a job while both training and going to school was ridiculous. He could never be what she wanted. America was the rational choice. They could be together, training for the League, and down the line, once they were sure, they could reveal their true identities to each other and go on and have a real life with no secrets and no lies.
****
Later that afternoon America cuddled up next to him in the lounge, watching TV. Torch was in the room, trying to make himself disappear in the corner, but Chameleon sat on the other couch eating chips and slurping on a soda. She kept smiling and winking at them. “Do you want to go somewhere more private?” he whispered into America’s ear.
“Why?”
“You know,” he said. “So we can be alone.” He let his hand fall onto her upper thigh, but she pushed it away.
“Be good.” She was smiling, but serious. And he longed for the few minutes with Lola in that doorway, or in her back seat.
I’m doomed.
*****
A/N:
Okay. I'm really sorry about the last chapter--it was supposed to go up on monday and somehow I didnt hit the 'post' button. It's been sitting done and ready all week. I had a nasty stomach virus over thanksgiving, so I wasnt thinking about Secret Identities at all while I was throwing up...and this week has been hectic. I have two papers due on monday and two exams on tuesday, and then glorious christmas break. This is my first semester as a full time student in almost 8 years, and did it ever kick my ass.
So...this is where Lawrence might start bothering ppl. I definitely do not condone cheating on your girlfriend because she wont put out, but w/ these 3 characters its so funny I dont really care. I have the whole story plotted out, except for what happens between these 3. I'm not sure how it's going to end.
A note on Torch's stutter. I definitely think he should have one as a character. It is however, damn annoying to write, and probably to read too, so he doesn't do it a lot--you can just pretend he does.
"Hi," he said, and she resisted the urge to kiss him in greeting. What was she thinking?
Glory was right. He was no Antonio, no Jean-Luc. Why on earth did she find him so fascinating? She tried to quell the nervous fluttering in her chest. Antonio had never done this to her. "Hello, Lawrence," she said, trying to stay cool. "Coffee?"
"Of course." They walked together in companionable silence.
"How was your weekend?" he asked her eventually.
"Uneventful," she said. The truth was, she had taken the Lotus out for a joy ride and had to mind control herself out of not one, but two speeding tickets. "Studying, mostly. What about you?"
"The same."
"We are boring people," she offered, and he laughed a little too readily. "Lawrence?"
"Yes?"
"Do you want to go out? Like on a date?" She hadn't had any intentions on asking him, the invitation blurting out of her mouth by pure instinct. He stopped dead on the stairs they were climbing down.
"Are you serious?"
"I think so."
"I thought you just wanted to be friends. We've been having coffee for two weeks now...you didn't even want the first cup if I remember correctly."
"Well, I changed my mind," she said. "Do you want to go out with me or what? I can be a lot of fun." She gave him her best seductive smile. It usually had a melting effect on men, and this was no exception. She had to grab onto his arm to keep him from stumbling down the stairs.
"I guess we could go out."
"Great. What are you doing Wednesday night? " Glory would be at her League meeting until late--Lola would have the apartment to herself.
"I can't on Wednesday," he said quickly. "I have Friday free."
"Friday it is," she said with a smile. "You still want that coffee?" He nodded. "Great. Don’t fall down the stairs anymore."
*****
Lawrence could hardly believe his luck. The beautiful, sexy, wonderful Lola wanted to go on a date--with short, dweebish him. He felt like he could float as high as Cloud, but one small dread kept him grounded. America. He wasn’t against lying in general--it was a necessary evil when it came to keeping his two identities separate--but going out with another girl behind America's back seemed a little bit more severe.
We never said we were exclusive, he thought to himself as he walked to Memorial Hall for their Tuesday night class with Romeo. And for all I know Lola and I won't work out. There is no reason to feel the least bit guilty.
The thought was of little comfort when America ran to meet him, all smiles and blond hair and innocence. She was nothing like Lola. Her body was firm and athletic, her radiance so much that he felt sure she emitted an actual glow sometimes. She couldn’t be seductive if she tried.
"I missed you," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. "It's not fair that you need to take an extra class every week. I barely get to see you now."
"It is necessary if I want to be of any use to the League," he answered, returning her kiss with one on the mouth. She was wearing strawberry flavored lip gloss. "Between my weak telekinesis and my poor fighting skills, I wouldn’t last one battle with the most lame of super villains." One evening with the Gold Swami had left him properly humbled. The tiny woman could do things he had never even dreamed possible, and he was beginning to understand how much he had hindered his progress by trying to hide and ignore his powers.
"You need to practice," America agreed. "I can't go around dating a wimp, now can I?"
"That makes me feel really good about myself," he said, and she grinned and took off to meet with Cloud, who had just entered the room. Lawrence saw Torch sitting on the bleachers, his hands still heavily bandaged. He went over to sit down next to his friend. "How are you doing?"
"M-managing."
"Good."
"I'm going to have to go to physical therapy for a few weeks, but the doctors don’t think I'm going to suh-suffer long term."
"That's good too," Lawrence offered.
"The League is arranging--arranging both therapy and training for me," Torch continued, looking dejected. "I've b-been in therapy for thirteen years. I don’t think it's helping any." Torch didn’t offer anymore details, and Lawrence didn’t ask, though he was highly curious.
As soon as class started Lawrence had to concentrate on his stance and
footing, and didn’t have time to dwell on Torch, or America and Lola for that matter. That was probably a good thing.
*******
Lola both looked forward to and dreaded Friday night. She loved spending time with Lawrence, but Glory was right. He wasn’t her type, at all. Maybe it wouldn’t work out, and she wouldn’t have to worry about it. Maybe it didn’t matter.
He met her at a little Italian restaurant downtown. Luigi’s was authentic--down to the checkered tablecloths and candles in bottles. Lola had found it with Glory before school had started, back when it was more normal between them and she actually saw her best friend. That’s why you’re attracted to him, she told herself, watching him pull up to the curb in a disgusting white pickup truck. You’re just lonely. “Maybe I should get an actual puppy instead.”
Lawrence looked nervous and cute. He was usually scruffy, but he had tried to clean himself up and was wearing a button-up black shirt (un-tucked) and jeans. “You’re beautiful,” he offered. She was just wearing her school clothes for that day--knee-high black boots and grey tights under a short black dress--but he didn’t seem to care.
“It’s no big deal,” she offered.
“You always look so…polished.” She wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, so she just smiled, and he opened the door for her and they went inside.
Once they were seated Lawrence looked at the menu and his eyes widened at the prices. She could see him begin to do calculations in his head. “Don’t worry about it,” she offered. “Its my treat.”
He blushed. “You can’t pay--”
“Sure I can,” she shot back immediately. “I asked you out, remember? I do the asking, I do the buying.” He looked like he was going to argue. “Just drop it,” she ordered, and he did.
When the waiter came Lola ordered a bottle of wine. “ID please?” he asked her. He didn’t look much older.
“He’s got you there Lola,” Lawrence remarked.
If she were by herself she could simply force the man to bring her a bottle, but Lawrence had his eye on her, watching what she did next. She reached for her purse and pulled out a fifty. “You’ll have another one on the table at the end of the night if you bring me a bottle of your best.”
He glanced around the restaurant before accepting the bill. “I’ll be happy to,” he said, and disappeared.
Lawrence was staring at her.
“If you give anyone enough money, they’ll do whatever you want,” she explained.
“I wish I could throw around money like that,” Lawrence said, looking down at his menu.
“My mother is Jolie Marriweather,” she offered. “She’s a famous writer.”
“Never heard of her,” he said.
“It’s always shocking how often I hear that.” She hid a grin. Her mother might enjoy brainwashing people into thinking she was someone special, but Lola kept up the story only because announcing to your date that your mother was a bank robber tended to make the evening weird.
When the wine arrived Lawrence took a sip and nodded. “You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a little scary sometimes, Lola,” he said.
“Is that bad or good?”
He swallows a gulp of wine. “I wish I knew.”
*****
Lawrence felt awkward when Lola forked over a small fortune for dinner, but she didn’t seem too concerned about it, so he tried not to be either. After they ate Lola suggested they take a walk, as it was uncharacteristically warm for October.
Downtown was well lit, and he was a super hero after all, so Lawrence agreed, and they fell in step together down the sidewalk. He felt her freeze for a moment when he slipped his hand into hers, and he dropped it immediately. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“No, it’s okay,” she answered. “I’m just not used to the idea of hand-holding.”
“You’ve never held hands with anyone before?” He assumed that was what girls liked to do--whenever he was with America her hand seemed to gravitate towards his.
“I don’t usually date guys who are into…holding hands.”
He didn’t want to ask, but was compelled to anyway. “So what are they into?” She gave him a wicked grin, and glanced around them. Though it was late there were still people out and about. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the doorway of a boutique that had already closed for the night. Her body was pressed up close against him, and he stared into her big dark eyes. “Lola?”
She kissed him lightly, cupping his cheek with one hand. “You are adorable,” she whispered. “So not my type.” Her lips were close to his--if he just leaned forward a few centimeters…
“Then why are you here?” he managed to ask.
“Have you ever been corrupted?” she asked. He shook his head. “Do you want to be?” All Lawrence could do was nod, and she leaned forward, pressing her mouth against his, and it was all over from there. He had never been kissed like that before. Granted, before joining the League he had never been kissed, but Lawrence knew that Lola was something special.
He found himself clutching her tightly against him, as his mouth explored her lips and tongue before trekking further to taste her neck. He held her tight around the waist but was afraid to let his hands stray elsewhere, because he knew that she was going to realize that he didn’t know what the hell he was doing, and laugh in his face.
Behind them something crashed, and Lola jumped, knocking her forehead into his. “Ow,” she said, and laughed, pulling away. “What was that?”
Lawrence rubbed his forehead and turned to see what the issue was. What had once been a neat shop window, mannequins lined up sporting the latest fall fashions, was now a mess. All of the dummies had fallen into a heap, white plastic limbs sticking up everywhere. “Must have been a chain reaction,” Lawrence offered. “One fell and the rest followed.” Or he had knocked them over. Like the floating coffee cup. Was being a hero really worth not being normal?
“Weird,” she offered. “I wonder how they fell.” But she didn’t wonder too long, because she was grinning at him. It was an odd, honest sort of smile, not like her usual seductive expressions. “Well? What do you think?”
“I think I’ve been sufficiently corrupted,” Lawrence offered. “Thank you.”
Lola laughed. “You’re welcome.”
“But we’d better head back. Everything is closing now--we don’t want to be the only ones out here.”
“There’s safety in numbers,” she offered, but she let him lead her back to her car, a shiny black BMW. She was rich. Really rich. “It’s got a big back seat,” she offered, and he was tempted.
“Let’s save something for the second date,” he said finally.
“You are too much of a gentleman,” she offered, and kissed his cheek before getting into the car. “I’ll see you Tuesday.”
“Definitely.”
Once she had driven away he walked back to his truck, not feeling anywhere near as exulted as he should.
*****
Glory bounced around the apartment Saturday afternoon before heading out to her League training. “Have you seen my silver dangly earrings?” she asked, popping her head into Lola’s room. Lola was wearing an oversized green t-shirt and a pair of striped underwear, stretched out on the floor surrounded with books. Her friend was so weird.
“They were by the sink a few days ago,” Lola offered.
“I tried there--I think I moved them.”
“Why do you need earrings for a combat class?”
“KP and are going to hang out afterward. I want to look my best.”
“So it’s a date?”
“Not really,” Glory said with a frown. “We’re both pretty tapped, and we get all kinds of weird looks when we go out in public wearing masks. Mostly we just hang out on campus or in Memorial Hall.” The lack of actual dates didn’t bother her--she liked the casual camaraderie they were building. Still, dressing up and going out sometime might be fun.
“I’m sure he’ll get over you not wearing earrings. Guys don’t notice that stuff anyway.”
“Well, I do,” Glory said. “Oh well. I’m gonna be late anyway.”
“Better run,” Lola agreed.
“Not a problem.” And she rushed out of the apartment, her feet barely skimming the sidewalk as she crossed the city and reached class just as Romeo did.
*****
Lawrence dreaded meeting America before their training session, but she was almost late and wasn’t able to do more than say hello before they got started, giving him an extra hour to figure out what the hell he was doing.
He had no clue. America was wonderful--beautiful and strong, a goddess. And she was honest. That was the most painful thing. She was so true, and he was…not. But he didn’t want to break up with her. She understood what it was like to have powers, to be in the program. How long could he really hide his true identity from Lola before she started suspecting something?
And Lola. What if he turned out to be a disappointment to her? What if she kept wanting to go out to fancy restaurants that he couldn’t afford? The idea of getting a job while both training and going to school was ridiculous. He could never be what she wanted. America was the rational choice. They could be together, training for the League, and down the line, once they were sure, they could reveal their true identities to each other and go on and have a real life with no secrets and no lies.
****
Later that afternoon America cuddled up next to him in the lounge, watching TV. Torch was in the room, trying to make himself disappear in the corner, but Chameleon sat on the other couch eating chips and slurping on a soda. She kept smiling and winking at them. “Do you want to go somewhere more private?” he whispered into America’s ear.
“Why?”
“You know,” he said. “So we can be alone.” He let his hand fall onto her upper thigh, but she pushed it away.
“Be good.” She was smiling, but serious. And he longed for the few minutes with Lola in that doorway, or in her back seat.
I’m doomed.
*****
A/N:
Okay. I'm really sorry about the last chapter--it was supposed to go up on monday and somehow I didnt hit the 'post' button. It's been sitting done and ready all week. I had a nasty stomach virus over thanksgiving, so I wasnt thinking about Secret Identities at all while I was throwing up...and this week has been hectic. I have two papers due on monday and two exams on tuesday, and then glorious christmas break. This is my first semester as a full time student in almost 8 years, and did it ever kick my ass.
So...this is where Lawrence might start bothering ppl. I definitely do not condone cheating on your girlfriend because she wont put out, but w/ these 3 characters its so funny I dont really care. I have the whole story plotted out, except for what happens between these 3. I'm not sure how it's going to end.
A note on Torch's stutter. I definitely think he should have one as a character. It is however, damn annoying to write, and probably to read too, so he doesn't do it a lot--you can just pretend he does.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Ch. 9 Week 7
Lawrence didn’t think he was going to have any trouble passing his aptitude test. He was so nervous there wasn’t a single small object in the conference room that wasn’t moving. The fake plant in the corner quivered slightly, and he had set a pencil spinning in the air in front of him. When the door opened Lawrence jumped, and the pencil flew through the air, burying itself halfway into the plaster wall next to the doorjamb. Valkyrie glanced at the pencil and stepped into the room. “Anymore surprises?” she asked.
“Sorry.” Lawrence grabbed at the fluttering pages of his Calculus book sitting in front of him. Behind Valkyrie was a squat, indeterminate person of either gender. The dwarf was dressed in an off-white tunic and loose pants and wore his or her hair in a long grey plait.
“This is the Golden Swami,” Valkyrie introduced.
“Pleased to meet you,” the Swami said with a slight Indian accent and Lawrence was relieved to hear a distinctly female voice coming from her throat, and also noticed dangling gold earrings and a glittering nose stud that suggested that she was indeed a woman. “So you are The Kinetic Professor?” She struggled into a too-tall chair.
“Yes.”
She had a large bag with her and she opened it and began to set out objects
in front of her--a baseball, a few hand weights of various sizes, an orange. She spoke as she unpacked the bag. “When did you first notice your powers?”
“Um, fourteen.”
“Do you remember the circumstances in which they were revealed?”
He felt himself color behind his mask. “Yes, but I’d rather not talk about it.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she offered. “Masturbation is a healthy part of any normal sex drive.” Before he could respond she continued. “How often do you practice?” He stared at her. “Your telekinetic abilities. How often do you practice them?”
“Oh, um, sometimes if I don’t feel like getting up I’ll use them to get a book or something…I guess haven’t had a lot of practice.”
“This shouldn’t take long then,” she said, pursing her lips. Lawrence was able to roll the baseball across the table and lift the one and two pound weights, but that was about it.
“Peel the orange,” The Swami ordered.
“Peel it? With my mind?”
“Of course.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Try.” Lawrence stared stupidly at the orange. He knew how to move things. He couldn’t dismantle something just by thinking it. He tried to do as she asked, but only succeeded in floating it a foot off the table. “I can’t,” he said finally, and the orange bounced off the table and hit the floor.
A moment later the orange was hovering in the middle of the table. Lawrence watched as the peel began to pull away from the fruit in a neat spiral and fall to the table. The Swami let the peeled orange drop down in front of her and suddenly the segments of orange simply fell away from each other, perfectly dissected. The Swami picked up one of the sections and popped it into her mouth. “You need to stop being afraid of your talents,” she explained, a bit of orange juice squirting out between her teeth. “I will teach you.” She glanced at Valkyrie. “So much for my retirement.”
“We really appreciate your help,” Valkyrie offered.
“I like having students,” the Swami assured, still eating her orange. “Teaching touches the sadist in me.” She looked up at Lawrence. “Are you free Monday evenings?” He was running out of free evenings, but nodded anyway. “Good. Six o’ clock, room 137. Got it?”
“Yes ma’am.”
The Swami’s mouth broke into a smile. “I love it when they call me ‘ma’am.’ Make sure you practice.”
Lawrence nodded and collected up his book bag. “Very pleased to meet you,” he managed to sputter as he left the room.
America was waiting for him in the hallway. “How did it go?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I have to take classes.” He glanced at her. “What about you?”
America shrugged. “I don’t know either. I was going too fast for Stone’s radar gun.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Not to brag or anything.”
“You would never brag,” he said.
“That’s sweet of you to say,” she said, but gave him a smile that made her glow. “I am Glorious.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at her. ’Glorious’ was her favorite word. “Yeah. I know you are. Let’s go get some food.” She clutched his arm tightly as they walked down the hall together, any arguments from the previous week forgotten.
“I hope Torch does okay on his,” Lawrence added.
“He’s very scatter-brained, isn’t he?” America mused. “And he doesn’t talk much, I guess because of his stutter.”
“He’s had a hard time of things. He told me a bit about his life.”
“Really?” America said with surprise. “We’re not supposed to--”
“It wasn’t anything specific,” Lawrence said. “It’s just--his life has been rough.”
They made their way to the lounge downstairs. The girls had started taking turns cooking--Lawrence knew there was a big pot of leftover chili in the fridge. He was glad of the magically renewing fridge. He didn’t have time for a job, and even though the League was paying for his school and dorm room, he was still running low on funds. He knew America was in the same situation.
He forgot about money and food as soon as they stepped into the lounge. Torch was sitting in the middle of the now-blackened love seat, staring at his hands. The skin was blistered and raw. A few scorched remnants of his clothes remained, but the fire-retardant bodysuit he wore underneath had protected the rest of him. Black stood aside holding a spent fire extinguisher. “What happened!” America ran to Torch’s side but he pulled away.
“D-don’t come any closer!” He shouted. “What are you, crazy? Do you want me to catch you on fire too?”
“He was blazing when I got here,” Black explained, setting aside the extinguisher. “I take it his assessment did not go well. This place is so screwed up--it took me forever to find an extinguisher.”
“I’m okay now,” Torch said. “You can g-go.”
“You’re not okay,” America said. “Look at your hands!”
“It happens all the time. I’ll be ok-kay.”
“No,” Lawrence agreed. “You need to go to the hospital. Those burns could
get nasty if they become infected, and you must be in a lot of pain.” He and America both took him by the shoulders and eased him up. Obviously in too much pain to protest, Torch went with them.
“We can take my car,” Black offered. “I’m parked at the loading dock out back.” Lawrence looked over at him, surprised that he had offered his assistance. The young man in the black suit and dark glasses hadn’t exactly been unfriendly, but he didn’t talk much either.
“Thank you,” Lawrence said.
Black’s car was large and black--completely unsurprising. Lawrence and Glory slid into the roomy back seat with Torch between them. Lawrence hoped that now someone was taking care of him, Torch was of no danger to anyone.
When they got to the hospital Black drove past the emergency entrance. “Um, we were supposed to pull in back there,” Lawrence offered.
“Because four people in masks and costumes would be a normal thing to see in the emergency room,” Black replied. Lawrence decided not to point out that Black looked like a government spook, not a super hero.
Black pulled up to a nondescript door on the side of the building. There was no sign, and when Lawrence pulled on the door it was locked. Black pushed a button on the intercom next to the door. “Ms. X sent us,” he said, and the door buzzed open.
“How did you know about this?” America asked, struggling with Lawrence to hold up Torch. Apparently he had gone into shock at some point during the ride, and was barely walking.
“The important thing is now you know too,” he said. An orderly appeared right inside the doorway with a wheelchair and helped Torch into it. The three heroes followed them into a small but well decorated lobby. The orderly wheeled Torch through a set of double doors, but instead of following Lawrence stopped to take in the place.
Black immediately tossed himself into one of the chairs and picked up a magazine. Lawrence took America by the hand and they walked up to the registration desk. “What is this place?” he asked the receptionist.
She blinked at him. “Why the League’s private hospital of course,” she said. “What happened to your friend?”
“He caught himself on fire.”
“Ah. He must be Torch,” she said, turning to her computer. “We were warned that we had a pyrokinetic in the training program.”
“Come sit down,” Black called without looking up from his magazine. “Have some coffee.” Lawrence noted an expensive coffee machine on a table, along with a tray of pastries and muffins.
“Why didn’t Stone and Valkyrie tell us about this place?” America asked Black, while Lawrence still wondered how Black knew.
“We’re not in the league yet,” Black said. “They’re not going to tell us all their secrets, now are they?”
“I think a secret hospital is one they should have let us in on,” America said, a hard edge to her voice.
“I’m not going to disagree,” Black replied.
“I hate all this secrecy!” America burst out suddenly. “It’s not fair!”
“No, it isn’t fair,” Black agreed, still not looking up.
America bit back a scream of frustration. Lawrence grabbed her by the hand and pulled her way. She gripped his hand too tightly. “Why don’t you go do a few laps around the building?” he suggested.
“Why?”
“To calm down?” In her eyes he could see defiance, but eventually she conceded.
“Okay. I’ll be back in a little bit.”
“I’ll check on Torch,” he told her, and America left through the way they came. Lawrence glanced at the receptionist, who was working on her computer, so he stepped through the double doors.
The doors opened into a small area with a few beds in it and branched into two hallways. Someone in nurse scrubs went into a room down one hall, so Lawrence followed. Torch was laying in the bed still in his costume, a woman in a white coat examining his hands. “Is he going to be okay?” Lawrence demanded.
The doctor looked up. “It’s not so bad. Second degree, probably. But he’s had them before.”
Torch nodded slightly. They already had an IV in his arm. “It’s okay,” he told Lawrence. “I’m used to it.” He let his head fall back on the bed. “What’s a little more scar tissue?”
“We’ll keep him here for a day or two, just to make sure,” the doctor continued. “He’ll be fine.”
“Do you want us to stay?” Lawrence asked Torch.
“They gave me morphine--I’m good.”
Lawrence smiled through his worry. “You’re not stuttering.”
“That happens on morphine,” Torch said. “Really, I’m fine. Go on.” Lawrence turned to leave. “Hey, KP?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. And thank Black for putting me out. It was really decent of him.”
“Sure thing. America and I will come check on you tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
******
Glory started with a few laps around the building, but after nearly colliding with an ambulance she slowed down and widened her loop to include the whole block, moving slow enough that people could at least see her, and she instinctually moved around them with no problem. She didn’t know how Black knew about the hospital, and she didn’t care. She only cared that she didn’t know about it. She could understand them not being allowed into headquarters right away, but this was medical care. It was important. What if they had gone to the normal emergency room and Torch had burnt his face and they cut his mask off? What would have happened then?
She ran for about half an hour, but her anger had not cooled, when, going past Black’s car, KP’s arm shot out and caught her, nearly knocking the wind out of her. “Sorry,” he offered. “I tried calling your name the last time you passed, but you didn’t seem to hear me.”
“I was thinking.”
“Torch is going to be okay,” he said. “They’re keeping him overnight
though. Let’s go.”
“I think I’ll just run home.” She looked away from the hurt expression on his face. “I’m sorry, I know you’re stressed too, but I need to run this out. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay,” he said, and she kissed him to make up for it. “Call me later.” He climbed into the passenger seat of Black’s car, and America began to run again, this time straight--straight through the city and into the suburbs before her anger abated, and she was too tired to run back. She fished her cell phone out of her pocket and called Lola for a ride, sitting down under a tree in someone’s front yard to wait.
A/N:
So sorry for last week! This is last weeks update, today, which should have been up last week, except I had the plague and its finals and everything is a mess.
This week's chapter will be up either later today or monday, depending on how my english lit class goes.
“Sorry.” Lawrence grabbed at the fluttering pages of his Calculus book sitting in front of him. Behind Valkyrie was a squat, indeterminate person of either gender. The dwarf was dressed in an off-white tunic and loose pants and wore his or her hair in a long grey plait.
“This is the Golden Swami,” Valkyrie introduced.
“Pleased to meet you,” the Swami said with a slight Indian accent and Lawrence was relieved to hear a distinctly female voice coming from her throat, and also noticed dangling gold earrings and a glittering nose stud that suggested that she was indeed a woman. “So you are The Kinetic Professor?” She struggled into a too-tall chair.
“Yes.”
She had a large bag with her and she opened it and began to set out objects
in front of her--a baseball, a few hand weights of various sizes, an orange. She spoke as she unpacked the bag. “When did you first notice your powers?”
“Um, fourteen.”
“Do you remember the circumstances in which they were revealed?”
He felt himself color behind his mask. “Yes, but I’d rather not talk about it.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she offered. “Masturbation is a healthy part of any normal sex drive.” Before he could respond she continued. “How often do you practice?” He stared at her. “Your telekinetic abilities. How often do you practice them?”
“Oh, um, sometimes if I don’t feel like getting up I’ll use them to get a book or something…I guess haven’t had a lot of practice.”
“This shouldn’t take long then,” she said, pursing her lips. Lawrence was able to roll the baseball across the table and lift the one and two pound weights, but that was about it.
“Peel the orange,” The Swami ordered.
“Peel it? With my mind?”
“Of course.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Try.” Lawrence stared stupidly at the orange. He knew how to move things. He couldn’t dismantle something just by thinking it. He tried to do as she asked, but only succeeded in floating it a foot off the table. “I can’t,” he said finally, and the orange bounced off the table and hit the floor.
A moment later the orange was hovering in the middle of the table. Lawrence watched as the peel began to pull away from the fruit in a neat spiral and fall to the table. The Swami let the peeled orange drop down in front of her and suddenly the segments of orange simply fell away from each other, perfectly dissected. The Swami picked up one of the sections and popped it into her mouth. “You need to stop being afraid of your talents,” she explained, a bit of orange juice squirting out between her teeth. “I will teach you.” She glanced at Valkyrie. “So much for my retirement.”
“We really appreciate your help,” Valkyrie offered.
“I like having students,” the Swami assured, still eating her orange. “Teaching touches the sadist in me.” She looked up at Lawrence. “Are you free Monday evenings?” He was running out of free evenings, but nodded anyway. “Good. Six o’ clock, room 137. Got it?”
“Yes ma’am.”
The Swami’s mouth broke into a smile. “I love it when they call me ‘ma’am.’ Make sure you practice.”
Lawrence nodded and collected up his book bag. “Very pleased to meet you,” he managed to sputter as he left the room.
America was waiting for him in the hallway. “How did it go?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I have to take classes.” He glanced at her. “What about you?”
America shrugged. “I don’t know either. I was going too fast for Stone’s radar gun.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Not to brag or anything.”
“You would never brag,” he said.
“That’s sweet of you to say,” she said, but gave him a smile that made her glow. “I am Glorious.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at her. ’Glorious’ was her favorite word. “Yeah. I know you are. Let’s go get some food.” She clutched his arm tightly as they walked down the hall together, any arguments from the previous week forgotten.
“I hope Torch does okay on his,” Lawrence added.
“He’s very scatter-brained, isn’t he?” America mused. “And he doesn’t talk much, I guess because of his stutter.”
“He’s had a hard time of things. He told me a bit about his life.”
“Really?” America said with surprise. “We’re not supposed to--”
“It wasn’t anything specific,” Lawrence said. “It’s just--his life has been rough.”
They made their way to the lounge downstairs. The girls had started taking turns cooking--Lawrence knew there was a big pot of leftover chili in the fridge. He was glad of the magically renewing fridge. He didn’t have time for a job, and even though the League was paying for his school and dorm room, he was still running low on funds. He knew America was in the same situation.
He forgot about money and food as soon as they stepped into the lounge. Torch was sitting in the middle of the now-blackened love seat, staring at his hands. The skin was blistered and raw. A few scorched remnants of his clothes remained, but the fire-retardant bodysuit he wore underneath had protected the rest of him. Black stood aside holding a spent fire extinguisher. “What happened!” America ran to Torch’s side but he pulled away.
“D-don’t come any closer!” He shouted. “What are you, crazy? Do you want me to catch you on fire too?”
“He was blazing when I got here,” Black explained, setting aside the extinguisher. “I take it his assessment did not go well. This place is so screwed up--it took me forever to find an extinguisher.”
“I’m okay now,” Torch said. “You can g-go.”
“You’re not okay,” America said. “Look at your hands!”
“It happens all the time. I’ll be ok-kay.”
“No,” Lawrence agreed. “You need to go to the hospital. Those burns could
get nasty if they become infected, and you must be in a lot of pain.” He and America both took him by the shoulders and eased him up. Obviously in too much pain to protest, Torch went with them.
“We can take my car,” Black offered. “I’m parked at the loading dock out back.” Lawrence looked over at him, surprised that he had offered his assistance. The young man in the black suit and dark glasses hadn’t exactly been unfriendly, but he didn’t talk much either.
“Thank you,” Lawrence said.
Black’s car was large and black--completely unsurprising. Lawrence and Glory slid into the roomy back seat with Torch between them. Lawrence hoped that now someone was taking care of him, Torch was of no danger to anyone.
When they got to the hospital Black drove past the emergency entrance. “Um, we were supposed to pull in back there,” Lawrence offered.
“Because four people in masks and costumes would be a normal thing to see in the emergency room,” Black replied. Lawrence decided not to point out that Black looked like a government spook, not a super hero.
Black pulled up to a nondescript door on the side of the building. There was no sign, and when Lawrence pulled on the door it was locked. Black pushed a button on the intercom next to the door. “Ms. X sent us,” he said, and the door buzzed open.
“How did you know about this?” America asked, struggling with Lawrence to hold up Torch. Apparently he had gone into shock at some point during the ride, and was barely walking.
“The important thing is now you know too,” he said. An orderly appeared right inside the doorway with a wheelchair and helped Torch into it. The three heroes followed them into a small but well decorated lobby. The orderly wheeled Torch through a set of double doors, but instead of following Lawrence stopped to take in the place.
Black immediately tossed himself into one of the chairs and picked up a magazine. Lawrence took America by the hand and they walked up to the registration desk. “What is this place?” he asked the receptionist.
She blinked at him. “Why the League’s private hospital of course,” she said. “What happened to your friend?”
“He caught himself on fire.”
“Ah. He must be Torch,” she said, turning to her computer. “We were warned that we had a pyrokinetic in the training program.”
“Come sit down,” Black called without looking up from his magazine. “Have some coffee.” Lawrence noted an expensive coffee machine on a table, along with a tray of pastries and muffins.
“Why didn’t Stone and Valkyrie tell us about this place?” America asked Black, while Lawrence still wondered how Black knew.
“We’re not in the league yet,” Black said. “They’re not going to tell us all their secrets, now are they?”
“I think a secret hospital is one they should have let us in on,” America said, a hard edge to her voice.
“I’m not going to disagree,” Black replied.
“I hate all this secrecy!” America burst out suddenly. “It’s not fair!”
“No, it isn’t fair,” Black agreed, still not looking up.
America bit back a scream of frustration. Lawrence grabbed her by the hand and pulled her way. She gripped his hand too tightly. “Why don’t you go do a few laps around the building?” he suggested.
“Why?”
“To calm down?” In her eyes he could see defiance, but eventually she conceded.
“Okay. I’ll be back in a little bit.”
“I’ll check on Torch,” he told her, and America left through the way they came. Lawrence glanced at the receptionist, who was working on her computer, so he stepped through the double doors.
The doors opened into a small area with a few beds in it and branched into two hallways. Someone in nurse scrubs went into a room down one hall, so Lawrence followed. Torch was laying in the bed still in his costume, a woman in a white coat examining his hands. “Is he going to be okay?” Lawrence demanded.
The doctor looked up. “It’s not so bad. Second degree, probably. But he’s had them before.”
Torch nodded slightly. They already had an IV in his arm. “It’s okay,” he told Lawrence. “I’m used to it.” He let his head fall back on the bed. “What’s a little more scar tissue?”
“We’ll keep him here for a day or two, just to make sure,” the doctor continued. “He’ll be fine.”
“Do you want us to stay?” Lawrence asked Torch.
“They gave me morphine--I’m good.”
Lawrence smiled through his worry. “You’re not stuttering.”
“That happens on morphine,” Torch said. “Really, I’m fine. Go on.” Lawrence turned to leave. “Hey, KP?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. And thank Black for putting me out. It was really decent of him.”
“Sure thing. America and I will come check on you tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
******
Glory started with a few laps around the building, but after nearly colliding with an ambulance she slowed down and widened her loop to include the whole block, moving slow enough that people could at least see her, and she instinctually moved around them with no problem. She didn’t know how Black knew about the hospital, and she didn’t care. She only cared that she didn’t know about it. She could understand them not being allowed into headquarters right away, but this was medical care. It was important. What if they had gone to the normal emergency room and Torch had burnt his face and they cut his mask off? What would have happened then?
She ran for about half an hour, but her anger had not cooled, when, going past Black’s car, KP’s arm shot out and caught her, nearly knocking the wind out of her. “Sorry,” he offered. “I tried calling your name the last time you passed, but you didn’t seem to hear me.”
“I was thinking.”
“Torch is going to be okay,” he said. “They’re keeping him overnight
though. Let’s go.”
“I think I’ll just run home.” She looked away from the hurt expression on his face. “I’m sorry, I know you’re stressed too, but I need to run this out. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay,” he said, and she kissed him to make up for it. “Call me later.” He climbed into the passenger seat of Black’s car, and America began to run again, this time straight--straight through the city and into the suburbs before her anger abated, and she was too tired to run back. She fished her cell phone out of her pocket and called Lola for a ride, sitting down under a tree in someone’s front yard to wait.
A/N:
So sorry for last week! This is last weeks update, today, which should have been up last week, except I had the plague and its finals and everything is a mess.
This week's chapter will be up either later today or monday, depending on how my english lit class goes.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Ch 8 Week 6
“What’s with you?” Glory asked Lola Tuesday morning before they left for class. The newspaper lay between them on the table while they ate--Richard Wyler’s wife was filing for divorce before he had a chance to give away her alimony. The story was all over the place--Glory didn’t know what to make of it.
“Mid-term blues?” Lola suggested, but Glory knew her friend was lying.
“Try again.”
“I don’t know,” Lola admitted with a sigh, letting Glory in for once, tired of secrets. “I just feel…empty. Alone.”
“It’s my fault!” Glory exclaimed, guilt flooding her system. “I’ve been running around doing my super hero thing, bragging about my costume, about Valkyrie and Romeo--of course you feel left out!” She should have known immediately. Lola didn’t make friends easily--Glory was probably all she had in this new place, and she’d more or less forgotten all about her.
“No, Glory,” Lola tried to say.
“You don’t have to deny it--we both know its true,” Glory continued. “I have all of these new friends and you never mention anyone--”
“I’ve met a few people,” Lola protested. “Um, three. Sort of.”
“I’ll tell you what--I do have to go to my meeting Saturday afternoon, but I’ll tell KP I’m busy, and you and I can stay in and have a proper girls’ night, okay?”
“I’m--” Lola was about to tell her no and Glory gave her a glare. “Yeah. That sounds like a great idea. Are you sure you don’t mind blowing off your date?”
“Friends have to come before boyfriends,” Glory assured, meaning it.
*****
“I saw her again,” a girl whispered to her friend behind Lola in the middle of Psychology. She was good at tuning people out, but the next thing caught her attention. “The blond girl in the mask.”
“Yeah? A friend of mine has a class with the blue one. She got special permission--no one knows what her real name is and she wears a mask all the time.”
“Weird.”
“I know. Anyone in this room could have secret powers.” Lola thought about using her secret powers to shut them up.
“I dare you to talk to one of them next time you walk by Memorial Hall. That‘s where they hang out and why no one else ever has classes there. it’s like, League headquarters.”
“The only one I want to talk to is Romeo Avenger.” There was an eruption of giggles from the two girls and the professor gave them a sharp look. “Or Dark Lothario,” her friend said, triggering more giggles. Lola put her head on her desk and groaned.
Lola knew she should have been jubilant in the days following her successful brainwashing of Richard Wyler. The day after her visit he called a press conference and announced he was giving away his fortune to save the rainforest. The city had gone crazy--the story even bumped Dark Lothario off the news for a few days. She was thrilled that her plan had worked, but she hated that no one knew that she was the cause of his new personality. As she drove her BMW to school she felt like she was driving a clunker, and she when walked across campus she felt invisible. She had changed the world a little bit that day, but no one knew except her minions. She knew that was as it should be, but it still bothered her, leaving her in a rotten mood. Once she had finished school she could take on her super villain persona full-time, but that was years and years away….
To make her day even better when she exited the classroom Lawrence Lawrence was waiting for her. “I don’t want to deal with you,” she said. “Go away.” She began to walk, but Lawrence followed behind her.
“Just give me your name,” he pleaded.
She turned around to look him in the eye. “Go away,” she repeated, this time ordering him. He faltered and blinked, as though he were fighting some sort of internal conflict.
“Not until you tell me your name.”
Lola nearly screamed with frustration. “It’s Lola, okay?”
She started walking again, moving as fast as her high heels would let her. “Lola, huh?” Lawrence said, still behind her. “That’s a good name. It’s nice to put a name with the face after all these weeks. Look, I wanted to--”
“Take me out to coffee, I know,” she said, slowing down to consider. Here was a guy who had managed to resist her on two occasions. That was interesting. She’d never met anyone--especially a male anyone--who’d been able to do that. She stopped walking in the middle of the hall, forcing everyone else to swarm around her. Lawrence surprised her by grabbing her hand and pulling her to the side before she was run over.
“Are you okay?”
“Just stress,” she offered. She studied him, looking into his soft, pleading eyes. “Okay. We’ll go out for coffee.”
*****
Lawrence sat dumbfounded and amazed, staring at Lola drinking coffee with him. Him. It was incomprehensible. He could understand America’s draw to the Kinetic Professor. He was a super hero, and she was so sweet and innocent. Lola didn’t know the meaning of either word. Why someone like her would give him the time of day was impossible to guess, but he wasn’t going to complain. She sat sideways in her seat with one knee crossed over the other, revealing long beautiful legs in grey tights under her black sweater dress.
He was staring at her legs when she realized his coffee cup was trying to float off the table top and grabbed the handle before Lola noticed.
“Are you still undecided?” she asked him. “On your major?”
“How did you--”
“We’ve been here before,” she said, her voice deadpan.
“Right. I’m a little fuzzy over--”
“Don’t worry about it.” She had the most commanding voice, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to simply do what he told her.
“Well,” Lawrence said, “I’m thinking I might like to teach. I like the idea of always having summer vacations, you know?”
“What level?”
“Definitely college,” he said, shuddering at the thought of teaching children--or teenagers. “I just haven’t really decided what subject…”
“From what I’ve taken so far, Psychology is fun, but Neuro-engineering is much more challenging. I’m going for a double major.”
“Psychology and Neuro-engineering?” She was beautiful and brilliant. How lucky could he get? He tried not to think about America. Because Lola, Lola was amazing.
“I’m very interested in the human mind,” she said. “I want to cover both the psychological and physiological aspects. Really, they go hand in hand.”
“That’s fascinating.”
“My roommate thinks it’s crazy.”
He laughed. “Well clearly, your roommate is an idiot.”
“I love her dearly,” Lola said, “but she is simple and naïve in her ways.”
“That’s too bad.” Lola sighed. “So what’s really wrong?” he asked her. He had a distinct feeling the only reason she had agreed to come with him was because she didn’t have the energy to say no.
“What do you think about going to school here?” she asked instead.
He shrugged. “The weather sucks.”
“I mean, with the League being here and all.”
He shrugged again, trying to be non-committal. Officially there was no training program at the University Noir, but everyone knew about it. “I guess it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“It doesn’t bug you that there are people running around with super powers, but no one knows about it?” He shrugged again. She looked so serious holding her coffee cup with both hands. “I could have super powers, and you’d never know.”
“I think I would have noticed you running around in a mask.”
“Lola could be my secret identity. I could be anyone.”
The way she was looking at him made him nervous. He laughed to shrug it off. “And Lawrence Lawrence could be mine.”
Her laughter was real. “I couldn’t imagine a cute little thing like you fighting crime,” she said, standing up. “I’m going to get more coffee. Do you want a refill?”
*****
“A quick announcement,” Romeo said as Glory took the place between Chameleon and Cloud in the front row for their Saturday training session. “Instead of your usual meeting with Stone and Valkyrie on Wednesday you’ll each have a separate meeting while they assess your powers.” Everyone looked around at each other.
“A t-test?” Torch stuttered, and Glory looked around to see what was going to catch on fire. Above Romeo a basketball hoop burst into flames. It burnt out before anyone rushed to the fire extinguisher, bits of charred net falling to the floor in front of him.
“Calm down,” Romeo said. “You won’t be graded. The league just wants to see what levels you’re all at. Some of you might have an expert sitting in to help assess.”
“What if we don’t do well?” KP asked.
“It depends.”
“We wont be kicked out, will we?” Glory said, raising alarm.
“No one will be kicked out of the program, so you can all relax. Just see me before you leave so I can give you your assessment times and locations.”
Glory watched KP during their training with Romeo Avenger that night. They were learning how to spar and Romeo had teamed them up by height, so KP was working with Torch and Glory was paired with Chameleon. KP had barely looked at her all evening, and she was beginning to worry. “Pay attention!” Chameleon said when Glory narrowly missed being hit in the face by her friend. “With your super-speed you should be avoiding me no problem.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“How do you feel about the aptitude test next week?”
“Oh.” She’d nearly forgotten about that. “Fine. I’m actually curious to see how fast I really am. It’s never been measured.”
“I’m a little nervous.” Glory couldn’t see why. Chameleon was a very difficult person to spar with--she was the color of the bleachers behind her, and Glory found herself focusing more on her clothes to gauge where she was. “I know I’m really good at blending,” Chameleon continued. “It’s the unbending that concerns me.”
“Well, how important is that in the long run?”
“Very important, when it comes to being normal.”
They both paused at the sound of a small explosion and turned. KP and Torch were standing six feet apart with a scorch mark on the floor between them. “I’m sorry,” Torch said, his voice tiny, making him look even smaller than he normally did.
“Normalcy is overrated,” Glory said, staring at the burned floor.
She caught KP later as he was coming out of the men’s locker room, his hair damp from the shower. “Hey.”
“Oh, hey America.”
“Where’s your brain been today?”
“Trying not to get blown up,” he replied.
“Before that. You’ve been distant all day.”
“School stuff.”
“That‘s what you said last time I asked you if there was something wrong. Don‘t lie to me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s real life, secret identity stuff. I’ll be better.”
This is why identities are a bad idea. They lead to secrets. She did her best to smile. “You’d better be better,” she said. “I know I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
He smiled, and it seemed sincere. “Yes, you are.” He pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead.
“I have bad news though,” she said, watching for his reaction. “I have to cancel our date this weekend.”
“Why?”
“Girl issues. My best friend needs me. You understand.”
“Of course.”
He didn’t seem upset enough. Was their relationship over already? He had hardly given it enough chance to begin.
*****
It was just coffee, Lawrence told himself as he left Memorial Hall that evening, watching America go off on her own. She only walked a few paces before she was off in a blond flash, disappearing across campus. It was two cups of coffee--he’d met again with Lola on Thursday. Lola didn’t seem to have any interest in Lawrence beyond friends, but he was going to take whatever he could get. I’m not doing anything wrong. He stared down the quad after America. It wasn’t cheating if nothing happened.
“KP?” Lawrence turned and saw Torch, hands behind his back. He was still wearing the fire-proof outfit Mim had found for him. Torch wore it all the time now, Lawrence noted, even under his clothes. Lawrence had seen him changing after practice--there were burns all over his slight frame. The suit protected him from himself.
“What’s up?”
“I just wanted to apol-apologize for nearly setting you on f-fire today.”
“It happens,” Lawrence said, trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. The truth was, it had been a slightly terrifying experience.
“I know it h-happens,” Torch said. “It always happens--that’s the p-problem.”
“You’ll learn to control it,” Lawrence said, trying to be gentle. If Torch didn’t calm down he was going to set something else on fire. “That’s why we’re here.”
“P-people have tried to fix me before you know,” Torch said. “Psycho therapy, drugs--”
“I’m sorry.”
“It never worked. They had me in a stain--a stainless steel room before I came here.”
“You-you were institutionalized?”
“That was the only place I couldn’t hurt anyone but myself. I should g-go back.”
“No, no,” Lawrence said. “It’s not your fault that things catch on fire.”
“If I c-could c-control my emotions b-better it wouldn’t happen.”
“That comes with time,” Lawrence said. “Look at Chameleon or Cloud.” The former was a different color every time Lawrence looked at her, and the latter spent most of their training sessions with Romeo floating several inches to several feet above ground.
“But they c-can’t hurt anyone.”
“Not true,” Lawrence said quickly. “Cloud kicked Righteous in the head the other day, remember?”
Torch cracked a smile. “It was f-funny.”
“And I can’t control my powers very well either,” Lawrence said, finishing.
“I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you d-do anything,” Torch admitted.
“That’s because I’m not very good.” He didn’t like admitting it, but he knew it was the truth. He wasn’t looking forward to the aptitude test the next week at all. “But powerful emotions do seem to send things flying around the room.”
“So how do you avoid it?”
He remembered his floating coffee cup earlier that week. There had been a few near misses since that first cup of coffee with Lola. “I try not to feel anything.” And until America and Lola, that hadn’t been a problem.
******
Glory came home from her training that Saturday with her hands full of grocery bags. Unable to reach for the knob, she kicked on the door until Lola opened it. Lola had obviously been home for a while--she was wearing sweat pants and a tank top with no bra, her hair wet and wrapped up in a turban of a towel. “You look gorgeous,” Glory joked and handed off some of her bags.
“What did you do?” Lola asked, looking in the bags, “Rob a grocery store?”
“We need snacks for a girls night. Did you order the pizza?”
“It’ll be here in fifteen minutes. And look what I got.” She dumped Glory’s bags on the table and held up two 4 packs of wine coolers.
“How did you get those? We’re underage.”
Lola gave her a slightly wicked grin. “I can be very persuasive.”
“It’s against the law.”
“So does that mean you don’t want any?”
“I didn’t say that--lets put a movie on.”
*****
“I’m okay now,” Lola told Glory half way through their John Hughs marathon. The pizza box sat open and empty on the floor in front of them, and both girls were sipping on wine coolers.
“Will you tell me what was wrong?”
“I’ll tell you what’s right,” Lola said instead, ignoring the question she would like so much to answer. “I went out for coffee with a boy--twice.”
Glory let out a small squeal. “Excellent, Lola!”
“It’s not like that--he’s just a friend.”
“If it wasn’t ’like that’ you wouldn’t be telling me like its some deep dark secret. What’s he like?”
Lola mused. “Like a puppy,” she said finally. “Like a geeky little puppy.”
Glory, stifling a laugh, snorted. “That’s not your usual type.”
“My type?”
“You know--twenty-somethings with two hundred dollar haircuts and accents.”
“Not true.”
Glory rolled her eyes. “There was that guy over Christmas break last year--”
Lola smiled a little. “Antonio. That was in Italy.”
“And that French guy--”
“Jean-Luc. That was the summer of ‘09.”
“You’ve only ever had vacation boyfriends,” Glory said. “You never had one in school before. This is good for you.”
“The boys at school were lame.”
“Of course they were. Do you know how many times I had to defend you at our high school?”
“No one liked me but you,” Lola said, turning sober.
“I’m your best friend. I kinda’ have to like you.”
“I guess I was never lonely before this year because having you was enough,” Lola said, and she knew immediately that it was true. She was always so much richer than everyone else, and that put up a barrier that became taller and wider as she grew older. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have friends--she did--but Glory was the only one who really cared.
“I’m sorry I’m so busy all the time.”
“No--you’re doing exactly what you need to be doing. You always knew you were destined for greater things.” She had no right to complain about anything Glory did, when she was the one leading the lie. Glory would hate her if she knew…
“Glorious things.”
Lola smiled. “Yes. Glorious. You need to go on being Glorious. I’m fine.”
“You’re sure.”
“Yes. Besides, now I have Lawrence Lawrence to keep me company.”
Glory laughed. “His name is Lawrence Lawrence?”
******
A/N: So I've been informed that there is already a "Mindmistress" running around the internet as a webcomic, so Lola needs a new name. I want something vaguely BDSM-y, you know? Gold star to anyone who can come up with something good.
You guys got a treat this chapter--it's 3000 words long. Cool, huh? I have a feeling a lot of you are going to get mad at Lawrence in the next few chapters....but I'm having a blast with him, so dont get too mad.
“Mid-term blues?” Lola suggested, but Glory knew her friend was lying.
“Try again.”
“I don’t know,” Lola admitted with a sigh, letting Glory in for once, tired of secrets. “I just feel…empty. Alone.”
“It’s my fault!” Glory exclaimed, guilt flooding her system. “I’ve been running around doing my super hero thing, bragging about my costume, about Valkyrie and Romeo--of course you feel left out!” She should have known immediately. Lola didn’t make friends easily--Glory was probably all she had in this new place, and she’d more or less forgotten all about her.
“No, Glory,” Lola tried to say.
“You don’t have to deny it--we both know its true,” Glory continued. “I have all of these new friends and you never mention anyone--”
“I’ve met a few people,” Lola protested. “Um, three. Sort of.”
“I’ll tell you what--I do have to go to my meeting Saturday afternoon, but I’ll tell KP I’m busy, and you and I can stay in and have a proper girls’ night, okay?”
“I’m--” Lola was about to tell her no and Glory gave her a glare. “Yeah. That sounds like a great idea. Are you sure you don’t mind blowing off your date?”
“Friends have to come before boyfriends,” Glory assured, meaning it.
*****
“I saw her again,” a girl whispered to her friend behind Lola in the middle of Psychology. She was good at tuning people out, but the next thing caught her attention. “The blond girl in the mask.”
“Yeah? A friend of mine has a class with the blue one. She got special permission--no one knows what her real name is and she wears a mask all the time.”
“Weird.”
“I know. Anyone in this room could have secret powers.” Lola thought about using her secret powers to shut them up.
“I dare you to talk to one of them next time you walk by Memorial Hall. That‘s where they hang out and why no one else ever has classes there. it’s like, League headquarters.”
“The only one I want to talk to is Romeo Avenger.” There was an eruption of giggles from the two girls and the professor gave them a sharp look. “Or Dark Lothario,” her friend said, triggering more giggles. Lola put her head on her desk and groaned.
Lola knew she should have been jubilant in the days following her successful brainwashing of Richard Wyler. The day after her visit he called a press conference and announced he was giving away his fortune to save the rainforest. The city had gone crazy--the story even bumped Dark Lothario off the news for a few days. She was thrilled that her plan had worked, but she hated that no one knew that she was the cause of his new personality. As she drove her BMW to school she felt like she was driving a clunker, and she when walked across campus she felt invisible. She had changed the world a little bit that day, but no one knew except her minions. She knew that was as it should be, but it still bothered her, leaving her in a rotten mood. Once she had finished school she could take on her super villain persona full-time, but that was years and years away….
To make her day even better when she exited the classroom Lawrence Lawrence was waiting for her. “I don’t want to deal with you,” she said. “Go away.” She began to walk, but Lawrence followed behind her.
“Just give me your name,” he pleaded.
She turned around to look him in the eye. “Go away,” she repeated, this time ordering him. He faltered and blinked, as though he were fighting some sort of internal conflict.
“Not until you tell me your name.”
Lola nearly screamed with frustration. “It’s Lola, okay?”
She started walking again, moving as fast as her high heels would let her. “Lola, huh?” Lawrence said, still behind her. “That’s a good name. It’s nice to put a name with the face after all these weeks. Look, I wanted to--”
“Take me out to coffee, I know,” she said, slowing down to consider. Here was a guy who had managed to resist her on two occasions. That was interesting. She’d never met anyone--especially a male anyone--who’d been able to do that. She stopped walking in the middle of the hall, forcing everyone else to swarm around her. Lawrence surprised her by grabbing her hand and pulling her to the side before she was run over.
“Are you okay?”
“Just stress,” she offered. She studied him, looking into his soft, pleading eyes. “Okay. We’ll go out for coffee.”
*****
Lawrence sat dumbfounded and amazed, staring at Lola drinking coffee with him. Him. It was incomprehensible. He could understand America’s draw to the Kinetic Professor. He was a super hero, and she was so sweet and innocent. Lola didn’t know the meaning of either word. Why someone like her would give him the time of day was impossible to guess, but he wasn’t going to complain. She sat sideways in her seat with one knee crossed over the other, revealing long beautiful legs in grey tights under her black sweater dress.
He was staring at her legs when she realized his coffee cup was trying to float off the table top and grabbed the handle before Lola noticed.
“Are you still undecided?” she asked him. “On your major?”
“How did you--”
“We’ve been here before,” she said, her voice deadpan.
“Right. I’m a little fuzzy over--”
“Don’t worry about it.” She had the most commanding voice, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to simply do what he told her.
“Well,” Lawrence said, “I’m thinking I might like to teach. I like the idea of always having summer vacations, you know?”
“What level?”
“Definitely college,” he said, shuddering at the thought of teaching children--or teenagers. “I just haven’t really decided what subject…”
“From what I’ve taken so far, Psychology is fun, but Neuro-engineering is much more challenging. I’m going for a double major.”
“Psychology and Neuro-engineering?” She was beautiful and brilliant. How lucky could he get? He tried not to think about America. Because Lola, Lola was amazing.
“I’m very interested in the human mind,” she said. “I want to cover both the psychological and physiological aspects. Really, they go hand in hand.”
“That’s fascinating.”
“My roommate thinks it’s crazy.”
He laughed. “Well clearly, your roommate is an idiot.”
“I love her dearly,” Lola said, “but she is simple and naïve in her ways.”
“That’s too bad.” Lola sighed. “So what’s really wrong?” he asked her. He had a distinct feeling the only reason she had agreed to come with him was because she didn’t have the energy to say no.
“What do you think about going to school here?” she asked instead.
He shrugged. “The weather sucks.”
“I mean, with the League being here and all.”
He shrugged again, trying to be non-committal. Officially there was no training program at the University Noir, but everyone knew about it. “I guess it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“It doesn’t bug you that there are people running around with super powers, but no one knows about it?” He shrugged again. She looked so serious holding her coffee cup with both hands. “I could have super powers, and you’d never know.”
“I think I would have noticed you running around in a mask.”
“Lola could be my secret identity. I could be anyone.”
The way she was looking at him made him nervous. He laughed to shrug it off. “And Lawrence Lawrence could be mine.”
Her laughter was real. “I couldn’t imagine a cute little thing like you fighting crime,” she said, standing up. “I’m going to get more coffee. Do you want a refill?”
*****
“A quick announcement,” Romeo said as Glory took the place between Chameleon and Cloud in the front row for their Saturday training session. “Instead of your usual meeting with Stone and Valkyrie on Wednesday you’ll each have a separate meeting while they assess your powers.” Everyone looked around at each other.
“A t-test?” Torch stuttered, and Glory looked around to see what was going to catch on fire. Above Romeo a basketball hoop burst into flames. It burnt out before anyone rushed to the fire extinguisher, bits of charred net falling to the floor in front of him.
“Calm down,” Romeo said. “You won’t be graded. The league just wants to see what levels you’re all at. Some of you might have an expert sitting in to help assess.”
“What if we don’t do well?” KP asked.
“It depends.”
“We wont be kicked out, will we?” Glory said, raising alarm.
“No one will be kicked out of the program, so you can all relax. Just see me before you leave so I can give you your assessment times and locations.”
Glory watched KP during their training with Romeo Avenger that night. They were learning how to spar and Romeo had teamed them up by height, so KP was working with Torch and Glory was paired with Chameleon. KP had barely looked at her all evening, and she was beginning to worry. “Pay attention!” Chameleon said when Glory narrowly missed being hit in the face by her friend. “With your super-speed you should be avoiding me no problem.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“How do you feel about the aptitude test next week?”
“Oh.” She’d nearly forgotten about that. “Fine. I’m actually curious to see how fast I really am. It’s never been measured.”
“I’m a little nervous.” Glory couldn’t see why. Chameleon was a very difficult person to spar with--she was the color of the bleachers behind her, and Glory found herself focusing more on her clothes to gauge where she was. “I know I’m really good at blending,” Chameleon continued. “It’s the unbending that concerns me.”
“Well, how important is that in the long run?”
“Very important, when it comes to being normal.”
They both paused at the sound of a small explosion and turned. KP and Torch were standing six feet apart with a scorch mark on the floor between them. “I’m sorry,” Torch said, his voice tiny, making him look even smaller than he normally did.
“Normalcy is overrated,” Glory said, staring at the burned floor.
She caught KP later as he was coming out of the men’s locker room, his hair damp from the shower. “Hey.”
“Oh, hey America.”
“Where’s your brain been today?”
“Trying not to get blown up,” he replied.
“Before that. You’ve been distant all day.”
“School stuff.”
“That‘s what you said last time I asked you if there was something wrong. Don‘t lie to me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s real life, secret identity stuff. I’ll be better.”
This is why identities are a bad idea. They lead to secrets. She did her best to smile. “You’d better be better,” she said. “I know I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
He smiled, and it seemed sincere. “Yes, you are.” He pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead.
“I have bad news though,” she said, watching for his reaction. “I have to cancel our date this weekend.”
“Why?”
“Girl issues. My best friend needs me. You understand.”
“Of course.”
He didn’t seem upset enough. Was their relationship over already? He had hardly given it enough chance to begin.
*****
It was just coffee, Lawrence told himself as he left Memorial Hall that evening, watching America go off on her own. She only walked a few paces before she was off in a blond flash, disappearing across campus. It was two cups of coffee--he’d met again with Lola on Thursday. Lola didn’t seem to have any interest in Lawrence beyond friends, but he was going to take whatever he could get. I’m not doing anything wrong. He stared down the quad after America. It wasn’t cheating if nothing happened.
“KP?” Lawrence turned and saw Torch, hands behind his back. He was still wearing the fire-proof outfit Mim had found for him. Torch wore it all the time now, Lawrence noted, even under his clothes. Lawrence had seen him changing after practice--there were burns all over his slight frame. The suit protected him from himself.
“What’s up?”
“I just wanted to apol-apologize for nearly setting you on f-fire today.”
“It happens,” Lawrence said, trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. The truth was, it had been a slightly terrifying experience.
“I know it h-happens,” Torch said. “It always happens--that’s the p-problem.”
“You’ll learn to control it,” Lawrence said, trying to be gentle. If Torch didn’t calm down he was going to set something else on fire. “That’s why we’re here.”
“P-people have tried to fix me before you know,” Torch said. “Psycho therapy, drugs--”
“I’m sorry.”
“It never worked. They had me in a stain--a stainless steel room before I came here.”
“You-you were institutionalized?”
“That was the only place I couldn’t hurt anyone but myself. I should g-go back.”
“No, no,” Lawrence said. “It’s not your fault that things catch on fire.”
“If I c-could c-control my emotions b-better it wouldn’t happen.”
“That comes with time,” Lawrence said. “Look at Chameleon or Cloud.” The former was a different color every time Lawrence looked at her, and the latter spent most of their training sessions with Romeo floating several inches to several feet above ground.
“But they c-can’t hurt anyone.”
“Not true,” Lawrence said quickly. “Cloud kicked Righteous in the head the other day, remember?”
Torch cracked a smile. “It was f-funny.”
“And I can’t control my powers very well either,” Lawrence said, finishing.
“I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you d-do anything,” Torch admitted.
“That’s because I’m not very good.” He didn’t like admitting it, but he knew it was the truth. He wasn’t looking forward to the aptitude test the next week at all. “But powerful emotions do seem to send things flying around the room.”
“So how do you avoid it?”
He remembered his floating coffee cup earlier that week. There had been a few near misses since that first cup of coffee with Lola. “I try not to feel anything.” And until America and Lola, that hadn’t been a problem.
******
Glory came home from her training that Saturday with her hands full of grocery bags. Unable to reach for the knob, she kicked on the door until Lola opened it. Lola had obviously been home for a while--she was wearing sweat pants and a tank top with no bra, her hair wet and wrapped up in a turban of a towel. “You look gorgeous,” Glory joked and handed off some of her bags.
“What did you do?” Lola asked, looking in the bags, “Rob a grocery store?”
“We need snacks for a girls night. Did you order the pizza?”
“It’ll be here in fifteen minutes. And look what I got.” She dumped Glory’s bags on the table and held up two 4 packs of wine coolers.
“How did you get those? We’re underage.”
Lola gave her a slightly wicked grin. “I can be very persuasive.”
“It’s against the law.”
“So does that mean you don’t want any?”
“I didn’t say that--lets put a movie on.”
*****
“I’m okay now,” Lola told Glory half way through their John Hughs marathon. The pizza box sat open and empty on the floor in front of them, and both girls were sipping on wine coolers.
“Will you tell me what was wrong?”
“I’ll tell you what’s right,” Lola said instead, ignoring the question she would like so much to answer. “I went out for coffee with a boy--twice.”
Glory let out a small squeal. “Excellent, Lola!”
“It’s not like that--he’s just a friend.”
“If it wasn’t ’like that’ you wouldn’t be telling me like its some deep dark secret. What’s he like?”
Lola mused. “Like a puppy,” she said finally. “Like a geeky little puppy.”
Glory, stifling a laugh, snorted. “That’s not your usual type.”
“My type?”
“You know--twenty-somethings with two hundred dollar haircuts and accents.”
“Not true.”
Glory rolled her eyes. “There was that guy over Christmas break last year--”
Lola smiled a little. “Antonio. That was in Italy.”
“And that French guy--”
“Jean-Luc. That was the summer of ‘09.”
“You’ve only ever had vacation boyfriends,” Glory said. “You never had one in school before. This is good for you.”
“The boys at school were lame.”
“Of course they were. Do you know how many times I had to defend you at our high school?”
“No one liked me but you,” Lola said, turning sober.
“I’m your best friend. I kinda’ have to like you.”
“I guess I was never lonely before this year because having you was enough,” Lola said, and she knew immediately that it was true. She was always so much richer than everyone else, and that put up a barrier that became taller and wider as she grew older. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have friends--she did--but Glory was the only one who really cared.
“I’m sorry I’m so busy all the time.”
“No--you’re doing exactly what you need to be doing. You always knew you were destined for greater things.” She had no right to complain about anything Glory did, when she was the one leading the lie. Glory would hate her if she knew…
“Glorious things.”
Lola smiled. “Yes. Glorious. You need to go on being Glorious. I’m fine.”
“You’re sure.”
“Yes. Besides, now I have Lawrence Lawrence to keep me company.”
Glory laughed. “His name is Lawrence Lawrence?”
******
A/N: So I've been informed that there is already a "Mindmistress" running around the internet as a webcomic, so Lola needs a new name. I want something vaguely BDSM-y, you know? Gold star to anyone who can come up with something good.
You guys got a treat this chapter--it's 3000 words long. Cool, huh? I have a feeling a lot of you are going to get mad at Lawrence in the next few chapters....but I'm having a blast with him, so dont get too mad.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Ch 7: Week 5
Kent Hall was a labyrinth, as far as Lawrence was concerned. He’d found the bathroom, but wasn’t sure if he could find his way out again. Classes were letting out and the halls were becoming choked with people. He saw her hair first, and then those legs, clad in grey tights and knee-high boots. She turned her head and he caught sight of those eyes, and the girl he had tried so hard to forget was standing in front of him--no--walking away. He hurried after her. “Hey! Wait!” A shiver rushed through his body when he touched her shoulder.
She spun around to face him. “Yes?”
“Um…” What had happened to his voice? “I think we had coffee once.”
He saw recognition in her face. “Lawrence Lawrence,” she said, and he breathed a sigh of relief. It hadn’t been a dream.
“That’s right.”
“You shouldn’t remember me.”
“Shouldn’t I?”
“I told you--” She hit her forehead with her palm. “Forget this conversation,” she muttered to herself. “Not forget me.”
“I could never forget you,” he said, confused, but hardly caring. “Do you want to go get coffee again?” he asked.
“Of course not,” she said. “Excuse me--I have to go.”
“Wait a minute. What’s your name?” He tried to follow her but there were too many people. She left him standing in the middle of the hall, jostled by other students, as he watched her hurry away. He looked up and made note of the room she had come out of, and what time it was. Now that he knew she was real, he wasn’t going to let her just disappear again.
It wasn’t until later, sitting in class, that he remembered he had a girlfriend.
******
Glory wore her new costume to their next meeting. It was a training session, so the boys were all dressed in normal work-out clothes (they had all bypassed the tights except for Torch, since Mim had a tasteful black outfit made up of fabric that repelled fire), but Cloud and Blue were both wearing their outfits. “Mine’s not ready,” Chameleon said, looking at them longingly. “Since Mim had to make it up from nothing.”
Even though red was not her color Glory felt good to be in costume, and nearly danced over to KP. “Tell me I’m beautiful,” she demanded.
“You know you are,” he said, not looking up from where he was stretching on the floor. His eyes were somewhere on the floor in front of him.
She sat down at his side. “You didn’t even look at me.”
He gave her a guilty glance. “Sorry. My mind is pretty full at the moment.”
“Full of what?” she asked. Instead of answering he leaned over and kissed her, in front of everybody. Behind her Chameleon whistled, and Glory blushed as she pulled away. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” he said, embarrassed himself.
Glory glanced around. The entire class was watching them. “I’m not much for public displays of affection,” she said.
“Sure you are,” Chameleon called across the room.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll try to remember.”
At that point Romeo came into the room, calling them to attention. “Whatever is wrong,” Glory said, “we’ll talk about it after class.”
After their session they all gathered in the lounge, but Glory pulled KP into the now empty girls’ locker room. “Are we okay?” she asked him. “You seemed distant earlier.”
“Yeah, we’re fine,” he said. “School’s just been rough lately.”
“You don’t even have a major,” she said. “I’m sure you’re getting all A’s in everything. What is it really?”
Instead of answering her he kissed her, pulling her close until she was pressed up against him. His mouth was urgent against hers, and he pushed her backward until she was pinned between his body and the set of lockers, one of the handles digging painfully into her lower back. “Stop it,” she said, pushing him away. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing you?”
“It doesn’t feel like it,” she said. They had only been going out a few weeks, and between school and their League meetings they didn’t spend that much time together outside of Memorial Hall. Their kisses and handholding had been chaste and innocent. She didn’t feel they were at the level of unabashed passion against walls.
“I’m sorry,” he said. His mask had gone askew while he was kissing her and she could see one of his eyebrows. Somehow this made him shockingly exposed to her. “I haven’t been myself today.” He frowned. “I don’t know who ‘myself’ is.”
Glory replied, her voice firm and commanding. “I’ll forgive you, this time. But don’t screw up again.”
“I promise.”
“Okay. Let’s go back to the others…they already think terrible things about us after your display in the gym earlier.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, and followed her meekly out the door.
******
When America forgave him in that warning tone, she reminded him of his mystery woman, and he felt guilty all over again. He knew now that he had to be careful about over-compensating. America was an innocent after all. Lawrence laughed at himself as he walked back to his dorm. An innocent. As though he had any more experience than she did. He didn’t tell her that she was his first girlfriend, his first kiss. She didn’t need to know how pitiful he was in real life. As The Kinetic Professor he could be anything he wanted, even an experienced lover. Except America wasn’t ready for that, and he wasn’t either.
In his room he took a cold shower and threw himself naked on the bed, again glad that he didn’t have a roommate. He thought about America, and his dark-haired goddess. They were both beautiful, and he wasn’t sure he could chose one over the other. It doesn’t matter, he told himself. She doesn’t want anything to do with you. Except she remembered his name when he couldn’t remember hers. What did that mean?
It was a long time before Lawrence finally fell asleep.
******
“Stupid, stupid,” Lola was still lecturing herself hours after her encounter with Lawrence Lawrence. Had she made any other mistakes during her search for proper minions? She walked up the stairs to her lair in her new costume, running over everyone she had talked to that week in her mind. No, no. Lawrence was the only was she had been careless with.
“No harm done,” she said to herself, but didn’t believe it. He had abnormal memories now, and they were of her. Why did I mess up? she thought. He was a puppy, a pet. He barely looked old enough to be in college. But she had found that attractive when she first met him, and it still held true that afternoon. Maybe she wanted a pet.
She opened the door to her lair to be greeted by Hannah and Kioshi. The former immediately began to exclaim over her new costume, while the latter’s eyes couldn’t help but travel over her figure. Pets? Who needs pets when I have minions?
Now that she had a costume Lola was ready to go out and cause some damage, and Hannah and Kioshi were prepared and eager to storm Wyler Industries.
Lola was perfectly satisfied with walking in the front doors and simply brainwashing everyone she came in contact with, but the Lawrence Lawrence fiasco reminded her that not all minds could be swayed, so she didn’t argue when Hannah and Kioshi suggested a more stealthy approach.
They entered Wyler Industries through a loading dock in the back of the building and moved through the maintenance department. “His office is on the top floor of course,” Hannah said, glancing at the floor plan she had tracked down. “There should be a service elevator down this--” she paused while she turned the paper around, “--that hallway.”
Lola couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “I hired you because you’re supposed to be the best.”
“Biology major,” Hannah protested. “Not cartographer.” But they found the elevator with no problems. As they rode up Hannah looked at Lola with bright, wide eyes. “This is the most fun I’ve had in months,” she said. “Thank you.”
Lola smiled. “We haven’t gotten to the fun part yet.” She couldn’t help but be pleased. If Hannah was enjoying herself that meant Lola had chosen well.
They encountered no one in the halls, but Wyler had a secretary, a skinny, plastic-perfect blond that Lola immediately disliked. “What the hell are you?” she demanded reaching for the phone, no doubt to call security. Something flashed through the air and knocked the receiver out of her hand. She cried out as a shining throwing star clanked to the floor when it hit the wall behind her.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” Hannah said to Kioshi, impressed.
“I’ve been practicing for six years--I never expected to actually need to use one.” The look on his face and the sound of his voice suggested that he was just as impressed with himself as Hannah.
Lola approached the woman, who was still rubbing her injured hand. “You can’t just walk in here like a bunch of goth rejects,” she started, but Lola cut her off.
“Reject?” she hissed. “I am the Mind Mistress, and you will obey me.”
The woman looked into her eyes. “I will obey you.” Lola was using her powers for her very first crime. She felt light and almost giddy.
“You are going to go take a break,” Lola told her. “At Doughnut Land, across the street. You will have no recollection of this meeting. Your only memory will be eating cream sticks. They are your new favorite food. You want them three times a day.”
“I think I want a cream stick,” the secretary said, standing up and reaching for her jacket and purse from a coat rack behind her desk.
“Good girl,” Lola said and watched her go.
“Cream sticks?” Kioshi questioned once she was gone.
“She called us goth rejects,” Lola said, bristling. “And I think she could stand to gain thirty pounds.”
Hannah, who was no twig herself, grinned. “I love you boss.”
But there were more important matters than playing with secretaries. There was a double door leading into Wyler’s office, and Lola threw them open, marching in with Hannah and Kioshi side by side behind her.
Wyler was a paunchy, balding man in his fifties. He stood in his shirt sleeves with a putter in his hands, practicing golf on a strip of Astroturf. “What the hell is this?” he demanded as Hannah stepped forward and took the golf club from his hands. As he was too surprised to react, she met no resistance.
“Have a seat,” Lola said, still speaking normally. She wanted to play with him a little bit before getting down to business.
“Ordering me around my own office--what the hell do you want?”
“Sit!” This was a command, and Wyler complied, though she doubted he knew why he did it.
He sat down in a chair in front of his desk. “What the hell is wrong with you costumed freaks? Can never leave well enough alone…I have an understanding with you people.” Lola didn’t doubt it. The only difference between Wyler and the criminals on the street was the lack of a mask and an expensive car (Lola had every plan to eliminate that difference). “Dark Lothario is going to hear about this, mark my words.”
“You know Dark Lothario?” Lola demanded, forgetting herself for a moment.
“He throws the best parties,” Wyler shot back.
Behind her Kioshi cleared his throat. Right. Business. “Do you know what your crimes are?” she asked Wyler, hoping that by standing over him she looked scary and intimidating. He laughed.
“Do you think the law can touch me? I’m the most powerful man in the city.”
“Maybe the law can’t touch you,” Lola said. “But I’m not the law. I am order where there is chaos. I make people become whatever I want them to be. I am the Mind Mistress.”
“Nice catchphrase,” he answered sarcastically. “What exactly are you supposed to be?”
“Relax,” she said. “I just want to fix you.”
She thought over the research Hannah and Kioshi had brought her. “You have decided to take a vow of poverty. You will sell all of your assets. You will take a six million dollar pay cut, and use that money to repair the damage you and your company have done. You will give money to social and environmental causes. Anyone working for your company making under fifty thousand a year will get a raise. You will fire the corrupt managers at your plants and replace them with fair, decent people. All new hires will be women and minorities. You will give Maxine Gross a raise, as much as anyone else on the board.” Lola looked up at Kioshi and Hannah. “Am I forgetting anything?”
“The car,” Kioshi offered.
“Right.” She grinned at Wyler. “And you will give me your Lotus. As a gift.”
Wyler reached into his pocket and handed her a set of keys. “Here,” he offered. His voice sounded far away, and Lola wondered briefly if it was too much, too many orders. Oh well.
“Thank you,” she said.
Lola felt giddy as they left, making their way to the parking deck beneath the building. The Lotus was parked in its own special spot right beside the door, a full space open on either side of it. “Who’s up for a spin?” she asked, holding up the keys.
Hannah let out a small whoop and climbed in eagerly when Lola unlocked the door. It was a tight squeeze as Kioshi and Hannah were both tall, but no one seemed to care when they were flying down the highway a short time later with the top down, moving so fast Lola’s mask was in danger of flying off.
“Well?” she asked Kioshi, slowing down enough for her voice to be heard. He had been quiet since leaving Wyler Industries.
His face broke into a smile. “You are amazing.”
Behind them Hannah laughed. “Yeah,” Lola said. “I know.”
*****
A/N: This is really more two chapters in one, which is one of the problems is this week-a-chapter format.
I love Lola's reaction to Lawrence in this chapter, and Kioshi and Hannah. I love those two.
She spun around to face him. “Yes?”
“Um…” What had happened to his voice? “I think we had coffee once.”
He saw recognition in her face. “Lawrence Lawrence,” she said, and he breathed a sigh of relief. It hadn’t been a dream.
“That’s right.”
“You shouldn’t remember me.”
“Shouldn’t I?”
“I told you--” She hit her forehead with her palm. “Forget this conversation,” she muttered to herself. “Not forget me.”
“I could never forget you,” he said, confused, but hardly caring. “Do you want to go get coffee again?” he asked.
“Of course not,” she said. “Excuse me--I have to go.”
“Wait a minute. What’s your name?” He tried to follow her but there were too many people. She left him standing in the middle of the hall, jostled by other students, as he watched her hurry away. He looked up and made note of the room she had come out of, and what time it was. Now that he knew she was real, he wasn’t going to let her just disappear again.
It wasn’t until later, sitting in class, that he remembered he had a girlfriend.
******
Glory wore her new costume to their next meeting. It was a training session, so the boys were all dressed in normal work-out clothes (they had all bypassed the tights except for Torch, since Mim had a tasteful black outfit made up of fabric that repelled fire), but Cloud and Blue were both wearing their outfits. “Mine’s not ready,” Chameleon said, looking at them longingly. “Since Mim had to make it up from nothing.”
Even though red was not her color Glory felt good to be in costume, and nearly danced over to KP. “Tell me I’m beautiful,” she demanded.
“You know you are,” he said, not looking up from where he was stretching on the floor. His eyes were somewhere on the floor in front of him.
She sat down at his side. “You didn’t even look at me.”
He gave her a guilty glance. “Sorry. My mind is pretty full at the moment.”
“Full of what?” she asked. Instead of answering he leaned over and kissed her, in front of everybody. Behind her Chameleon whistled, and Glory blushed as she pulled away. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” he said, embarrassed himself.
Glory glanced around. The entire class was watching them. “I’m not much for public displays of affection,” she said.
“Sure you are,” Chameleon called across the room.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll try to remember.”
At that point Romeo came into the room, calling them to attention. “Whatever is wrong,” Glory said, “we’ll talk about it after class.”
After their session they all gathered in the lounge, but Glory pulled KP into the now empty girls’ locker room. “Are we okay?” she asked him. “You seemed distant earlier.”
“Yeah, we’re fine,” he said. “School’s just been rough lately.”
“You don’t even have a major,” she said. “I’m sure you’re getting all A’s in everything. What is it really?”
Instead of answering her he kissed her, pulling her close until she was pressed up against him. His mouth was urgent against hers, and he pushed her backward until she was pinned between his body and the set of lockers, one of the handles digging painfully into her lower back. “Stop it,” she said, pushing him away. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing you?”
“It doesn’t feel like it,” she said. They had only been going out a few weeks, and between school and their League meetings they didn’t spend that much time together outside of Memorial Hall. Their kisses and handholding had been chaste and innocent. She didn’t feel they were at the level of unabashed passion against walls.
“I’m sorry,” he said. His mask had gone askew while he was kissing her and she could see one of his eyebrows. Somehow this made him shockingly exposed to her. “I haven’t been myself today.” He frowned. “I don’t know who ‘myself’ is.”
Glory replied, her voice firm and commanding. “I’ll forgive you, this time. But don’t screw up again.”
“I promise.”
“Okay. Let’s go back to the others…they already think terrible things about us after your display in the gym earlier.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, and followed her meekly out the door.
******
When America forgave him in that warning tone, she reminded him of his mystery woman, and he felt guilty all over again. He knew now that he had to be careful about over-compensating. America was an innocent after all. Lawrence laughed at himself as he walked back to his dorm. An innocent. As though he had any more experience than she did. He didn’t tell her that she was his first girlfriend, his first kiss. She didn’t need to know how pitiful he was in real life. As The Kinetic Professor he could be anything he wanted, even an experienced lover. Except America wasn’t ready for that, and he wasn’t either.
In his room he took a cold shower and threw himself naked on the bed, again glad that he didn’t have a roommate. He thought about America, and his dark-haired goddess. They were both beautiful, and he wasn’t sure he could chose one over the other. It doesn’t matter, he told himself. She doesn’t want anything to do with you. Except she remembered his name when he couldn’t remember hers. What did that mean?
It was a long time before Lawrence finally fell asleep.
******
“Stupid, stupid,” Lola was still lecturing herself hours after her encounter with Lawrence Lawrence. Had she made any other mistakes during her search for proper minions? She walked up the stairs to her lair in her new costume, running over everyone she had talked to that week in her mind. No, no. Lawrence was the only was she had been careless with.
“No harm done,” she said to herself, but didn’t believe it. He had abnormal memories now, and they were of her. Why did I mess up? she thought. He was a puppy, a pet. He barely looked old enough to be in college. But she had found that attractive when she first met him, and it still held true that afternoon. Maybe she wanted a pet.
She opened the door to her lair to be greeted by Hannah and Kioshi. The former immediately began to exclaim over her new costume, while the latter’s eyes couldn’t help but travel over her figure. Pets? Who needs pets when I have minions?
Now that she had a costume Lola was ready to go out and cause some damage, and Hannah and Kioshi were prepared and eager to storm Wyler Industries.
Lola was perfectly satisfied with walking in the front doors and simply brainwashing everyone she came in contact with, but the Lawrence Lawrence fiasco reminded her that not all minds could be swayed, so she didn’t argue when Hannah and Kioshi suggested a more stealthy approach.
They entered Wyler Industries through a loading dock in the back of the building and moved through the maintenance department. “His office is on the top floor of course,” Hannah said, glancing at the floor plan she had tracked down. “There should be a service elevator down this--” she paused while she turned the paper around, “--that hallway.”
Lola couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “I hired you because you’re supposed to be the best.”
“Biology major,” Hannah protested. “Not cartographer.” But they found the elevator with no problems. As they rode up Hannah looked at Lola with bright, wide eyes. “This is the most fun I’ve had in months,” she said. “Thank you.”
Lola smiled. “We haven’t gotten to the fun part yet.” She couldn’t help but be pleased. If Hannah was enjoying herself that meant Lola had chosen well.
They encountered no one in the halls, but Wyler had a secretary, a skinny, plastic-perfect blond that Lola immediately disliked. “What the hell are you?” she demanded reaching for the phone, no doubt to call security. Something flashed through the air and knocked the receiver out of her hand. She cried out as a shining throwing star clanked to the floor when it hit the wall behind her.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” Hannah said to Kioshi, impressed.
“I’ve been practicing for six years--I never expected to actually need to use one.” The look on his face and the sound of his voice suggested that he was just as impressed with himself as Hannah.
Lola approached the woman, who was still rubbing her injured hand. “You can’t just walk in here like a bunch of goth rejects,” she started, but Lola cut her off.
“Reject?” she hissed. “I am the Mind Mistress, and you will obey me.”
The woman looked into her eyes. “I will obey you.” Lola was using her powers for her very first crime. She felt light and almost giddy.
“You are going to go take a break,” Lola told her. “At Doughnut Land, across the street. You will have no recollection of this meeting. Your only memory will be eating cream sticks. They are your new favorite food. You want them three times a day.”
“I think I want a cream stick,” the secretary said, standing up and reaching for her jacket and purse from a coat rack behind her desk.
“Good girl,” Lola said and watched her go.
“Cream sticks?” Kioshi questioned once she was gone.
“She called us goth rejects,” Lola said, bristling. “And I think she could stand to gain thirty pounds.”
Hannah, who was no twig herself, grinned. “I love you boss.”
But there were more important matters than playing with secretaries. There was a double door leading into Wyler’s office, and Lola threw them open, marching in with Hannah and Kioshi side by side behind her.
Wyler was a paunchy, balding man in his fifties. He stood in his shirt sleeves with a putter in his hands, practicing golf on a strip of Astroturf. “What the hell is this?” he demanded as Hannah stepped forward and took the golf club from his hands. As he was too surprised to react, she met no resistance.
“Have a seat,” Lola said, still speaking normally. She wanted to play with him a little bit before getting down to business.
“Ordering me around my own office--what the hell do you want?”
“Sit!” This was a command, and Wyler complied, though she doubted he knew why he did it.
He sat down in a chair in front of his desk. “What the hell is wrong with you costumed freaks? Can never leave well enough alone…I have an understanding with you people.” Lola didn’t doubt it. The only difference between Wyler and the criminals on the street was the lack of a mask and an expensive car (Lola had every plan to eliminate that difference). “Dark Lothario is going to hear about this, mark my words.”
“You know Dark Lothario?” Lola demanded, forgetting herself for a moment.
“He throws the best parties,” Wyler shot back.
Behind her Kioshi cleared his throat. Right. Business. “Do you know what your crimes are?” she asked Wyler, hoping that by standing over him she looked scary and intimidating. He laughed.
“Do you think the law can touch me? I’m the most powerful man in the city.”
“Maybe the law can’t touch you,” Lola said. “But I’m not the law. I am order where there is chaos. I make people become whatever I want them to be. I am the Mind Mistress.”
“Nice catchphrase,” he answered sarcastically. “What exactly are you supposed to be?”
“Relax,” she said. “I just want to fix you.”
She thought over the research Hannah and Kioshi had brought her. “You have decided to take a vow of poverty. You will sell all of your assets. You will take a six million dollar pay cut, and use that money to repair the damage you and your company have done. You will give money to social and environmental causes. Anyone working for your company making under fifty thousand a year will get a raise. You will fire the corrupt managers at your plants and replace them with fair, decent people. All new hires will be women and minorities. You will give Maxine Gross a raise, as much as anyone else on the board.” Lola looked up at Kioshi and Hannah. “Am I forgetting anything?”
“The car,” Kioshi offered.
“Right.” She grinned at Wyler. “And you will give me your Lotus. As a gift.”
Wyler reached into his pocket and handed her a set of keys. “Here,” he offered. His voice sounded far away, and Lola wondered briefly if it was too much, too many orders. Oh well.
“Thank you,” she said.
Lola felt giddy as they left, making their way to the parking deck beneath the building. The Lotus was parked in its own special spot right beside the door, a full space open on either side of it. “Who’s up for a spin?” she asked, holding up the keys.
Hannah let out a small whoop and climbed in eagerly when Lola unlocked the door. It was a tight squeeze as Kioshi and Hannah were both tall, but no one seemed to care when they were flying down the highway a short time later with the top down, moving so fast Lola’s mask was in danger of flying off.
“Well?” she asked Kioshi, slowing down enough for her voice to be heard. He had been quiet since leaving Wyler Industries.
His face broke into a smile. “You are amazing.”
Behind them Hannah laughed. “Yeah,” Lola said. “I know.”
*****
A/N: This is really more two chapters in one, which is one of the problems is this week-a-chapter format.
I love Lola's reaction to Lawrence in this chapter, and Kioshi and Hannah. I love those two.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Ch. 6: Week 4
Can it possibly be a month already? Glory thought to herself as she walked towards Memorial hall on her way to a meeting. September was coming to a close and fall was beginning to show in the leaves. She had the hood of her jacket up to protect against a fine mist of rain, hands buried in her pockets for warmth. At the doors she met up with KP, and she kissed him, immediately feeling the warmth of his lips, of his arms as they wrapped around her. “Hi,” she said when they separated, and she grinned. It was so nice to have a boyfriend.
“Let’s get inside,” he hurried to open the door and usher her in. The air of the hall was warm and comfortable as they made their way to the conference room where they held Valkyrie and Stone’s lectures. She had been dreading going after her argument with Stone, except that during their previous Saturday training session Romeo had announced that he would be at their next meeting instead. She liked Romeo (what woman didn’t?) and was eager to see what he had to teach them.
They all waited patiently until Romeo arrived exactly on time. “Don’t get comfortable,” he announced. “We’re not staying here today. It’s time for a field trip.”
“Field trip?” Glory asked, interested.
“Yes. We’re going to go pick out your costumes. Even though you wont be going out into the field until next semester, we want you to get them now, to help you get a feel for them, to get comfortable in them. Are you ready?”
Glory and the other girls nodded eagerly. The boys looked skeptical. “Do we have to wear tights?” KP asked.
“Hey,” Glory whispered to him, “I bet you look good in tights.”
Romeo shrugged. “We’ll have to see. Come on then.” He led them downstairs and out a loading dock entrance on the other side of the building. A large white van was waiting for them and they all piled in. Cloud took the passenger seat and the other two girls sat immediately behind them. Glory pulled KP into the second set of seats, leaving the last three boys in the way-back.
“I don’t want to wear tights,” KP said again, and Torch nodded in agreement.
Glory only laughed at them, twisting around in her seat to face the back. “Romeo wears tights,” she offered, and Captain Righteous gave a stifled laugh.
“Romeo’s a fruit,” he said.
“No I’m not,” Romeo called back from the driver’s seat as he started up the van. “Don’t think that super-grace and perfect technique are my only abilities, Righteous. I can hear everything you say.”
Captain Righteous rolled his eyes.
They drove downtown to the main shopping district on Main Street, pulling the van into a parking lot beside a large grey stone building. It’s wide windows were full of mannequins dressed in feather boas, tutus, and even a gorilla suit. The sign said “Hathaway’s Theater and Dance Supply.” It looked like a normal costume shop, and Glory wondered what they were doing there. As soon as they stepped onto the street Romeo was swarmed by a small group of women pushing pens and scraps of paper towards him. Righteous started laughing as Romeo signed autographs.
“You put up with the public,” Romeo explained as he ushered them inside. “You’re their hero, they love you.” He glanced at Righteous, still scoffing. “Besides,” he said, putting his hand on Cloud’s shoulder so she giggled. “Put on a mask and a pair of tights, and women can’t resist you.”
He continued on past Cloud, and Cloud caught Glory’s eye. She couldn’t help but wonder if there was something there. Cloud’s beauty could not be hidden by her mask any more than Glory’s could. She had dark brown hair and smooth skin the same bronze as Lola--Glory wondered if she might be Hawaiian with her dark almond eyes, but didn’t think it was right to ask--the whole secret identity thing.
“Can I help you?” a voice rang out through the store before it attached to a body, emerging from behind a rack of makeup. It was a tall, thin woman, her black hair pulled so tight her eyebrows looked like they were being pulled along too. Her face broke into a wide smile when she saw Romeo.
“Hello Mim,” Romeo said, and they embraced and brushed kisses over each other’s cheeks.
“I almost forgot you were coming,” she said, eyeing the group waiting behind Romeo.
“This is Mim Hathaway,” Romeo introduced. “She’s been doing costumes for the League in this area for fifteen years.”
“It’s my pleasure,” she said. “Most of the east cost comes here for costumes you know--this way.” She led them through the store. They passed displays of greasepaint, a wall of dancing shoes, racks of costumes for familiar shows like The Wizard of Oz and Cats. She pushed aside a rolling rack of poodle skirts and leather jackets and there was a door in the wall. They went through in single-file, Glory leading the other students behind Romeo.
The room opened up like a giant warehouse, and Glory let out the breath she had been holding. In front of them were rack after rack of costumes, and beyond that bolts of fabrics, along with several messy tables with sewing machines, scissors, piles of thread…a young woman a few years older than Glory looked up from one of the tables as they came in. “Go ahead and look around,” Mim said. “See what you like--I can make anything to order as well, if you have something specific in mind. My daughter Zim and I will be coming around to help.”
Glory separated from KP, wandering over to the women’s costumes with the other girls. They were separated on the racks by color, and Glory gravitated over to the pinks.
“This is the best part,” Blue said in her soft voice, flipping through a selection of white outfits.
Chameleon looked at the rainbow of colors and frowned. She pulled a magenta cat suit off the rack and held it up to herself. Immediately she changed the same shade. There was a lot of will power involved in keeping her regular skin tone, and one way she did it was by wearing lots of neutral colors--tans, browns, off-white. Usually she was several shades darker or lighter, depending on her outfit. Immediately Mim was sweeping over to her side. “I see your problem dear,” Mim said, taking her by the hand. “I have some body-heat activated fabric that should help you blend properly.” They crossed the room and soon she had Chameleon wrapped in a grey fabric that turned colors with Chameleon as she blended in with the wall,
the floor, and a red plastic chair.
“America,” Cloud called, holding up a pale blue outfit with a short skirt. “I think it needs a cape.”
“Definitely,” Glory replied, and turned to see Zim at her side. She hadn’t even heard her approach.
“Your name is America?” she asked.
“America the Beautiful,” Glory replied.
“You can’t wear pink!” Zim said, plucking from her hands a skirt made of some sort of shiny pink plastic. “Let me show you our red, white, and blue selections.” She more or less pulled Glory over to one of the longest racks. “All of our outfits are fire and tear-resistant. Most of them will offer some sort of protection from blades--but you’ll want something armored if you want to be bullet proof…” She went through the pros and cons of each fabric, explained why they might prefer one option over the other.
Blue and Cloud listened, but Glory was just looking at the row of patriotic outfits. She looked terrible in stripes. She liked pink. Half her wardrobe was pink; it looked excellent with her hair and skin tone. But at the same time, she knew Zim was right. It didn’t make sense to wear pink with her name. Was it too late to change her name? As Glory she could wear any color she wanted…
In the end she picked out a red costume made out of heavy, clinging silk. “It’s specially spun,” Zim said. “Impossible to rip or tear.” Glory just liked the sound the skirt and short cape made when the fabric moved. It was sleeveless and left her legs bare, but she found a pair of red and gold boots that matched perfectly. They were flat-soled and designed for running and laced up to just under her knees. She stood at the mirror patiently while Mim pinned up the skirt to be hemmed when KP came up to her. He was wearing slacks and a brown tweed jacket.
“That’s not a costume,” she told him, but he smiled.
“It’s lined with Kevlar,” he explained. “Zim is going to design a logo for me and embroider it on some handkerchiefs to put in the breast pocket.
“Cute,” she said. “Are you going to wear a tweed mask too?”
“You don’t like it?”
“I just wanted to tease you about tights,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t like red.”
“It’s a good color for you,” Mim told her. “As for your young man, these days most young male heroes don’t want to wear tights. I’m a traditionalist myself, but what can you do?”
“Indeed,” KP said.
She leaned over and straightened his bow-tie. “I like it,” she said. “You look like a real professor now. It’s called Geek Chic you know.”
******
A bold red super-hero burst into Lola’s bedroom that evening and she jumped in surprise, dropping her book on the floor. As soon as she got over the shock she realized it was Glory. “We got our costumes today,” Glory said, unnecessarily. “What do you think?”
Used to seeing Glory in nothing but pink, Lola found the red to be an improvement and told her so. “Good,” Glory said. “It was the closest thing I could get to pink while still being patriotic.”
“And you went with a cape,” Lola said, the fabric billowing out behind Glory as she spun around to display it.
“I like the way it flows behind me when I run,” she said. Glory proceeded to go over her entire trip in minute detail, and for once, Lola took notice of what would normally be an extremely dull narrative. As Glory told her about Mim and Zim Lola thought of her poor lycra cat suit shoved under the bed. A miracle seamstress was just what she needed.
Lola skipped class the next day to go downtown. Glory hadn’t mentioned a name of a store, but there was only one costume shop in town. “Can I help you?” a woman she supposed to be Mim asked when she walked into the door.
“Take me to your back room,” Lola commanded.
“Yes,” Mim said, and Lola followed her to a plain door in the back of the store.
As soon as they entered another woman stood up from where she was working with some grey material. “Mom? Who’s this?”
“I’m nobody.” Lola’s voice seemed to echo through the big room, and the woman didn’t ask any more questions. “Show me what you have in black.”
She found what she was looking for in the very back, covered in a thin layer of dust. Zim helped Lola zip herself into it and she found a pair of black stiletto boots. Lola stood in front of a half circle of mirrors so she could see herself at all angles. “I look like a dominatrix,” she said, pleased. The suit covered her from ankle to fingertips, but was low cut, showing off cleavage properly supported from the boning that also gave her a proper waist. It was made of a leather-like material (apparently it resisted bullets) and was lined in purple satin so it was fairly comfortable. She looked dangerous and sexy beneath a new leather mask.
“You wont remember me,” she said, turning to the two women who had been so helpful without knowing why. “I was never here. This outfit never existed.”
“You were never here,” Mim and Zim repeated in unison. Satisfied, Lola gathered up her clothes and headed home.
******
A/N:
I spent an entire chapter on a shopping trip, which just shows what a girl I am. (DES had a long shopping sequence too.) I don't have anything especially enlightening to say about this chapter. My favorite bit is the "Romeo is a fruit" exchange between Capt. Righteous and Romeo Avenger.
I'm trying to imbibe the lesser heroes in training with some semblance of personality, even though they dont play huge roles in the narrative. Black is the hardest, probably because of a role he's supposed to have later that I'm not positive will work. Glory has a closer relationship with the girls than I've managed to show so far, but unfortunately most of the story is in the guys.
“Let’s get inside,” he hurried to open the door and usher her in. The air of the hall was warm and comfortable as they made their way to the conference room where they held Valkyrie and Stone’s lectures. She had been dreading going after her argument with Stone, except that during their previous Saturday training session Romeo had announced that he would be at their next meeting instead. She liked Romeo (what woman didn’t?) and was eager to see what he had to teach them.
They all waited patiently until Romeo arrived exactly on time. “Don’t get comfortable,” he announced. “We’re not staying here today. It’s time for a field trip.”
“Field trip?” Glory asked, interested.
“Yes. We’re going to go pick out your costumes. Even though you wont be going out into the field until next semester, we want you to get them now, to help you get a feel for them, to get comfortable in them. Are you ready?”
Glory and the other girls nodded eagerly. The boys looked skeptical. “Do we have to wear tights?” KP asked.
“Hey,” Glory whispered to him, “I bet you look good in tights.”
Romeo shrugged. “We’ll have to see. Come on then.” He led them downstairs and out a loading dock entrance on the other side of the building. A large white van was waiting for them and they all piled in. Cloud took the passenger seat and the other two girls sat immediately behind them. Glory pulled KP into the second set of seats, leaving the last three boys in the way-back.
“I don’t want to wear tights,” KP said again, and Torch nodded in agreement.
Glory only laughed at them, twisting around in her seat to face the back. “Romeo wears tights,” she offered, and Captain Righteous gave a stifled laugh.
“Romeo’s a fruit,” he said.
“No I’m not,” Romeo called back from the driver’s seat as he started up the van. “Don’t think that super-grace and perfect technique are my only abilities, Righteous. I can hear everything you say.”
Captain Righteous rolled his eyes.
They drove downtown to the main shopping district on Main Street, pulling the van into a parking lot beside a large grey stone building. It’s wide windows were full of mannequins dressed in feather boas, tutus, and even a gorilla suit. The sign said “Hathaway’s Theater and Dance Supply.” It looked like a normal costume shop, and Glory wondered what they were doing there. As soon as they stepped onto the street Romeo was swarmed by a small group of women pushing pens and scraps of paper towards him. Righteous started laughing as Romeo signed autographs.
“You put up with the public,” Romeo explained as he ushered them inside. “You’re their hero, they love you.” He glanced at Righteous, still scoffing. “Besides,” he said, putting his hand on Cloud’s shoulder so she giggled. “Put on a mask and a pair of tights, and women can’t resist you.”
He continued on past Cloud, and Cloud caught Glory’s eye. She couldn’t help but wonder if there was something there. Cloud’s beauty could not be hidden by her mask any more than Glory’s could. She had dark brown hair and smooth skin the same bronze as Lola--Glory wondered if she might be Hawaiian with her dark almond eyes, but didn’t think it was right to ask--the whole secret identity thing.
“Can I help you?” a voice rang out through the store before it attached to a body, emerging from behind a rack of makeup. It was a tall, thin woman, her black hair pulled so tight her eyebrows looked like they were being pulled along too. Her face broke into a wide smile when she saw Romeo.
“Hello Mim,” Romeo said, and they embraced and brushed kisses over each other’s cheeks.
“I almost forgot you were coming,” she said, eyeing the group waiting behind Romeo.
“This is Mim Hathaway,” Romeo introduced. “She’s been doing costumes for the League in this area for fifteen years.”
“It’s my pleasure,” she said. “Most of the east cost comes here for costumes you know--this way.” She led them through the store. They passed displays of greasepaint, a wall of dancing shoes, racks of costumes for familiar shows like The Wizard of Oz and Cats. She pushed aside a rolling rack of poodle skirts and leather jackets and there was a door in the wall. They went through in single-file, Glory leading the other students behind Romeo.
The room opened up like a giant warehouse, and Glory let out the breath she had been holding. In front of them were rack after rack of costumes, and beyond that bolts of fabrics, along with several messy tables with sewing machines, scissors, piles of thread…a young woman a few years older than Glory looked up from one of the tables as they came in. “Go ahead and look around,” Mim said. “See what you like--I can make anything to order as well, if you have something specific in mind. My daughter Zim and I will be coming around to help.”
Glory separated from KP, wandering over to the women’s costumes with the other girls. They were separated on the racks by color, and Glory gravitated over to the pinks.
“This is the best part,” Blue said in her soft voice, flipping through a selection of white outfits.
Chameleon looked at the rainbow of colors and frowned. She pulled a magenta cat suit off the rack and held it up to herself. Immediately she changed the same shade. There was a lot of will power involved in keeping her regular skin tone, and one way she did it was by wearing lots of neutral colors--tans, browns, off-white. Usually she was several shades darker or lighter, depending on her outfit. Immediately Mim was sweeping over to her side. “I see your problem dear,” Mim said, taking her by the hand. “I have some body-heat activated fabric that should help you blend properly.” They crossed the room and soon she had Chameleon wrapped in a grey fabric that turned colors with Chameleon as she blended in with the wall,
the floor, and a red plastic chair.
“America,” Cloud called, holding up a pale blue outfit with a short skirt. “I think it needs a cape.”
“Definitely,” Glory replied, and turned to see Zim at her side. She hadn’t even heard her approach.
“Your name is America?” she asked.
“America the Beautiful,” Glory replied.
“You can’t wear pink!” Zim said, plucking from her hands a skirt made of some sort of shiny pink plastic. “Let me show you our red, white, and blue selections.” She more or less pulled Glory over to one of the longest racks. “All of our outfits are fire and tear-resistant. Most of them will offer some sort of protection from blades--but you’ll want something armored if you want to be bullet proof…” She went through the pros and cons of each fabric, explained why they might prefer one option over the other.
Blue and Cloud listened, but Glory was just looking at the row of patriotic outfits. She looked terrible in stripes. She liked pink. Half her wardrobe was pink; it looked excellent with her hair and skin tone. But at the same time, she knew Zim was right. It didn’t make sense to wear pink with her name. Was it too late to change her name? As Glory she could wear any color she wanted…
In the end she picked out a red costume made out of heavy, clinging silk. “It’s specially spun,” Zim said. “Impossible to rip or tear.” Glory just liked the sound the skirt and short cape made when the fabric moved. It was sleeveless and left her legs bare, but she found a pair of red and gold boots that matched perfectly. They were flat-soled and designed for running and laced up to just under her knees. She stood at the mirror patiently while Mim pinned up the skirt to be hemmed when KP came up to her. He was wearing slacks and a brown tweed jacket.
“That’s not a costume,” she told him, but he smiled.
“It’s lined with Kevlar,” he explained. “Zim is going to design a logo for me and embroider it on some handkerchiefs to put in the breast pocket.
“Cute,” she said. “Are you going to wear a tweed mask too?”
“You don’t like it?”
“I just wanted to tease you about tights,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t like red.”
“It’s a good color for you,” Mim told her. “As for your young man, these days most young male heroes don’t want to wear tights. I’m a traditionalist myself, but what can you do?”
“Indeed,” KP said.
She leaned over and straightened his bow-tie. “I like it,” she said. “You look like a real professor now. It’s called Geek Chic you know.”
******
A bold red super-hero burst into Lola’s bedroom that evening and she jumped in surprise, dropping her book on the floor. As soon as she got over the shock she realized it was Glory. “We got our costumes today,” Glory said, unnecessarily. “What do you think?”
Used to seeing Glory in nothing but pink, Lola found the red to be an improvement and told her so. “Good,” Glory said. “It was the closest thing I could get to pink while still being patriotic.”
“And you went with a cape,” Lola said, the fabric billowing out behind Glory as she spun around to display it.
“I like the way it flows behind me when I run,” she said. Glory proceeded to go over her entire trip in minute detail, and for once, Lola took notice of what would normally be an extremely dull narrative. As Glory told her about Mim and Zim Lola thought of her poor lycra cat suit shoved under the bed. A miracle seamstress was just what she needed.
Lola skipped class the next day to go downtown. Glory hadn’t mentioned a name of a store, but there was only one costume shop in town. “Can I help you?” a woman she supposed to be Mim asked when she walked into the door.
“Take me to your back room,” Lola commanded.
“Yes,” Mim said, and Lola followed her to a plain door in the back of the store.
As soon as they entered another woman stood up from where she was working with some grey material. “Mom? Who’s this?”
“I’m nobody.” Lola’s voice seemed to echo through the big room, and the woman didn’t ask any more questions. “Show me what you have in black.”
She found what she was looking for in the very back, covered in a thin layer of dust. Zim helped Lola zip herself into it and she found a pair of black stiletto boots. Lola stood in front of a half circle of mirrors so she could see herself at all angles. “I look like a dominatrix,” she said, pleased. The suit covered her from ankle to fingertips, but was low cut, showing off cleavage properly supported from the boning that also gave her a proper waist. It was made of a leather-like material (apparently it resisted bullets) and was lined in purple satin so it was fairly comfortable. She looked dangerous and sexy beneath a new leather mask.
“You wont remember me,” she said, turning to the two women who had been so helpful without knowing why. “I was never here. This outfit never existed.”
“You were never here,” Mim and Zim repeated in unison. Satisfied, Lola gathered up her clothes and headed home.
******
A/N:
I spent an entire chapter on a shopping trip, which just shows what a girl I am. (DES had a long shopping sequence too.) I don't have anything especially enlightening to say about this chapter. My favorite bit is the "Romeo is a fruit" exchange between Capt. Righteous and Romeo Avenger.
I'm trying to imbibe the lesser heroes in training with some semblance of personality, even though they dont play huge roles in the narrative. Black is the hardest, probably because of a role he's supposed to have later that I'm not positive will work. Glory has a closer relationship with the girls than I've managed to show so far, but unfortunately most of the story is in the guys.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)