Talyesin's Tales

Ragdoll and I head back to my place. She’s got a spare costume in my secret closet. I’m still thinking about what just happened.

How did all that Praxis tech get down there, set up, and running without anyone knowing anything about it? And, more troubling... Who knows about Boost’s potential for mutating the dead? Because Big Guy was a corpse, remember, animated by AI and servo-motors. I decide that while we’re home I’m going to give Doc Sterling a call.

But first we’ve got to make a stop. Ragdoll knows this and she’s heading there already. We drop down a fire escape, racing each other - she’s sliding down the stair-railings, I’m climbing straight down the wall - to the alley below. There’s a painted metal door with no handle behind an old dumpster. Ragdoll makes it there first - she smirks at me - and knocks.

The door opens and we’re let in by the Old Blind Lady. I don’t know what her name is, she never speaks. She doesn’t have any eyes, none at all - just skin grown smooth over what should be her eye sockets. She closes the door behind us, sealing us in the small room with concrete walls and one other door, lit by fluorescent lighting. looks at us and points to the trenchcoats hanging on pegs along the wall. We’ve done this before, we know the drill. We each take a trenchcoat and pull it on. Then we unmask, stuffing the masks in our pockets. When this is done she opens the inner door for us.

Inside is essentially a doctor’s waiting room. There’s two or three people sitting in uncomfortable chairs, reading old magazines. A radio in the corner is playing easy-listening muzak. Kimmy and I sit down and wait our turn.

It doesn’t take long, maybe ten minutes. The three others are called into the doctor’s room by an intercom system announcing, “Next.” Kimmy and I go in together.

The African-American man inside used to be a costumed crimefighter back in the Seventies. He was Brother Caduceus, and his power was healing people. He didn’t last long - healing people isn’t terribly efficient against guys who are throwing buses at you. So he got out of it, set up shop in Lower Uptown, healing all comers. Both sides. He only had two rules - cash only, and no masks. Knowing everyone’s faces meant he was safe from repercussions on both sides. Sure we could shake him down for info about the three who were here before us, but if he coughs up for us, who’s to say he won’t cough up for them? So no one touches him.

He smiles as we walk in, recognizing us. Kimmy goes first, hopping up onto the table. He puts his hands on either side of her head, takes a deep breath, smiles once, and she suddenly glows in this healing white light, and all her injuries heal. She smiles up at him - the process leaves you feeling great - and hops off the table. I’m next. Same deal. I get off the table, strip the goop splint off my healed finger, and say, “How much?”

He makes a mental calculation and says, “Two hundred.”

Personally I think that’s pretty steep - we only had minor cuts, bruises, scrapes and strains, and I had one broken finger, but whatever, I pay him from the stash of cash I keep in my boot. Kimmy used to laugh at me, keeping money in my boot, but her costume doesn’t have any pockets either, so I’m not sure why she found it so funny.

We thank him and head out another door, leaving the trenchcoats behind. We’re off and running.

We get back to my place and undress, grabbing a quick shower. I check out the condition of my tail - it got trashed in Junkernaut’s explosion. It’s a loss. I have a spare but it’s an older one, not in much better condition. I’m going to have to make a trip to the Costumer again, and he’s not cheap. Shaking my head, I try to see if I can’t salvage whatever I can from the older one, and make my call to Doc Sterling.

Surprisingly, Reed answers. Normally he’s too caught up in his experiments, and one of the others answers the vidphone.

“Matthew!” he says, a big grin spreading across his face. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Hiya Doc,” I answer. “How’s things?”

“Oh, quiet... Julia and the children are in Avalon, Carmine’s attending a Patriot Squad reunion, Curt’s on a date.”

“It’s the middle of the day.”

“Curt’s date often... ahem... take several days.”

Curt - Living Lightning - had been a rock star once. Some habits don’t die easily.

“Right... Listen Doc, Ragdoll, Ace and I just shut down the Boost lab that’s been operating out of Downtown.”

“Matt, that’s great news! Well done!”

“Thanks... only thing is, the whole operation was running off of Praxis tech.”

“Really.”

His face goes hard when I mention Praxis. They’re the number one competition for Sterling Enterprises, and the rivalry goes beyond mere corporate wars. Praxis uses a lot of questionable practices and methodology. Reed objects to them on moral grounds, even if there wasn’t the corporate conflict.

“They were extracting-"

“Metahuman adrenaline, yes, I know. I only got around to analysing a sample last week.”

This is a guy who saves the entire world on a monthly basis. He travels to other dimensions every other week, and invents four impossible things before breakfast. He deals with ancient alien races and hidden civilizations. He cures six or seven diseases every year. He’s a busy guy. And he made time to try and figure out what Boost was, and knowing him, probably figure out a way to counter it.

“Here’s the thing, Reed. A sample of Boost got injected into an animated corpse of a powered human. The guy mutated into this huge thing that nearly killed us all.”

“Holy socks... Matt this has incredible and potentially terrible ramifications.”

“Thought you’d want to know.”

“Yes,” he answers, and I can see his thoughts are going lightspeed. “Thanks Matt.”

“Anytime, Doc,” I say, signing off.

“Come on, hon, we’re going to be late,” Kimmy says. She’s not in costume, but then I remember we’re going to lunch. I put aside the old tail and get dressed.

We grab a cab and head out to Julius’. It’s a quiet bar, almost hidden. We could go in costume if we wanted - and often do, lots of folks on the job like Julius’ - but we’re in civvies for this. A few minutes later we pull up. I pay the cab and follow Kimmy into the bar.

Rick is sitting at in a booth near the window. He spots us and waves us over. I can see through the doorway to the back room there’s a few costumed crimefighters back there, catching a quick bite before heading back out.

We sit down across from him in the booth. The waitress comes over and takes our drink orders. We sit in an odd silence until the drinks come.

Rick lifts his beer and says, “To a job well done.”

I lift my beer and Kimmy raises her white wine spritzer. She’s funny - in costume she’s a hard drinker, Scotch mainly, but in civvies she drinks girl drinks.

The three of us clink glasses and drink.

“Worked out well,” I agree.

“The three of us work well together,” he says.

We both look at Kimmy, who’s looking at her drink, stirring it with the slice of lemon on a pick.

“I know what you’re going to say,” she says quietly.

“Kimmy, teaming up would-" Rick starts to say, but she interrupts.

“When it became clear that I could do what I can do,” she says, meaning bend every which way and balance on one toe on a flag pole, “My mother expected me to follow after her. A legacy, you know. My training started when I was seven. My first case was when I was twelve. Because Mother had been on a team, the entire world expected me to be on a team. See, she had only ever worked on a team. She was synonymous with the Super Teens. The New Super Teens had just formed, everyone just knew I would join. I didn’t have a choice.

“So I joined. I mean, I was thirteen. You can’t exactly say no to that kind of pressure when you’re thirteen. So I joined, and it was fun at first. But teens being teens, hormones going crazy, people started pairing up and getting jealous of each other and one day we got sold out by one of our own, and people died. Good people. Friends. And the team broke up.

“That day I swore I’d never be on another team.”