Catelyn Winona
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Madame Science Chap 5 (ROUGH)
🕑 Added 2020-02-15 01:23:48 +0000 UTCOkay, I'm having one of those weeks where NOTHING I WRITE FEELS GOOD ENOUGH for this page. I really appreciate everyone who supports me on here. It means so much to me to know people are interested in my stories, especially on weeks like this.
I've finished up both Not the Hero and (an oldie) Twin Switch which I'm probably over-editing and will be posting this weekend. But while I'm editing, please enjoy more of Madame Science's first draft!
Thank you all again. It's really a privilege to have you here.
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I “sleep” in on Thursday morning. Scott texts me at 6am and Ms. Barry leaves me a voicemail at 8am, but neither know I’m awake to answer them. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes. I can just feel that today’s not going to be a good day.
The sucky thing about being a real girl is that I get up and do it anyway.
Ms. Barry wants the report on my conversation with Mr. Government Man. Scott just wants to make sure that we’re on good terms after he kicked me out of his apartment last night. I stare at his text while I brush my teeth.
This isn’t the first time that this has happened, though it is the closest I’ve ever gotten to his friends since we started dating. It used to not bother me at all, if I’m honest. I understand why I can’t meet them or even be in the same room as them, I do. But lately…
It doesn’t help that we haven’t had a proper date for a while. The one last week was more like running errands than anything romantic. When we moved out here, we were going on two or three dates a week. Then his work with the Hero Force picked up and there was less and less time for me. Again, I get it, but it’s starting to sting a little bit. I remember what it was like in those first couple of months when it was so exciting to learn about each other and do things together. Did I even feel like that anymore?
We just haven’t had enough time together lately, I tell myself. I spit out the toothpaste and meet my eyes in the mirror. The red of bad sleep really compliments my green irises. I snort. I’m overthinking things. I should just wait until Saturday. If I still feel stung like this, I’ll bring it up with Scott and see what he thinks.
With that in mind, I text him back a smiley face and a demand for sushi on Saturday. He answers right away, wishing me a good day and making no promises on the sushi. He’s not a fan of raw fish, but I know he’ll take me anyway. He likes tempura.
I throw on jeans and a nice blouse. I could spend all day inside and work on Momento’s upgrades, true, but I think it’d be better if I go out before I collapse back into bed. “Momento, send a note to Ms. Barry. I’m on my way.”
Momento is standing in the center of his little buddies. Not that weird. What’s weird is that they’re all on the coffee table and turn as one when I call out. I pause in the doorway of my bedroom, staring. I didn’t put them on the coffee table. Momento chirps and makes a swoosh sound, like the old email accounts made when sending messages. I didn’t program that into him either.
I narrow my eyes at them. Am I going to need to take them apart? Could the hive mind component be amplifying their intelligence? I’ve never worked with hive intelligence before so it’s definitely possible. “We good, Momento?”
The five of them nod. Momento and the pink cat wag their tails. It’s hard to tell if they’ve got bad intentions behind all that cuteness. I stop to pet Momento’s head on my way out. Well, they’re made. Evil or not, endlessly learning technology or not, there’s not much I can do about it now.
I swing by my favorite coffee shop on the way to Ms. Barry’s office as a prize and a bribe. A prize for me for actually leaving my apartment today and a bribe for Ms. Barry so she won’t be so mad at me for coming without an appointment. Technically she’s available to me any time she’s at Hero Force headquarters, but I’m not going to point that out. Ms. Barry would eviscerate me for implying she has to put up with my bullshit regularly.
Hero Force HQ looks like a church which I find a little heavy handed. Public perception of heroes is extremely important considering it takes a lot of voting power to keep super-powered individuals who destroy cities by accident on the government pay roll. I personally don’t think that’s a good enough reason to imply they’re some sort of savior to the people. Scott swears up and down that the architects of HQ were just following the art deco influences you can find in the corners of some of the older buildings in LA. Scott doesn’t think the Hero Force could be so conniving.
Ha. Scott forgets that the Hero Force maneuvered me into agreeing to work for them for free until I get my super-powered individual designation. Jerks.
I check in at the security desk. The Chicago chapter’s lobby area was all made of marble and stone. LA’s is tile and brown stucco and wood, like Union Station. It’s absolutely hideous, but easy to repair in the event of a Super fight. I hear they’ve got tons of the tile in the basement.
I juggle the coffees up to the second floor, dodging around a few staff members. Hero Force staff all wear black masks to protect their identities, powers or no, but that’s about the only uniform requirement. A woman in a power suit nearly runs me over when I pop out of the stairwell. She mutters a quick apology before racing off down the hall. Her feet aren’t touching the ground and I run through the list of LA based heroes with hovering capabilities. All I can come up with is Dirigible, Highflyer and Metawing. Since Metawing is the only one still in LA, I’m putting my money on her.
If Ms. Barry knew I made it a game to guess which hero was under the black mask, she’d uninvite me from HQ in a heartbeat. It’s not like figuring it out is particularly hard. Heroes are notoriously relaxed in headquarters, even after that big breach in 2008 that saw half of them get relocated with new identities. Most of them don’t think lightning can strike twice.
I’ve thought about breaking into Hero Force headquarters before. I think pretty much every villain has entertained the idea at some point, whether it be to get back at a hero, steal documents, or just to claim bragging rights. The Hero Force poses a challenge. No one’s quite sure how much of their protection methods come from superpowers or tech. It makes each headquarters a unique challenge that people like me have a hard time resisting.
I eye the security camera at the end of the hall. As far as I know, LA is almost entirely protected by electronic security, an easy hack for me. The biggest issue would be that Atlas is visiting. He protected San Francisco by literally erasing the entire headquarters from everyone’s mind. I’d want to wait until he got off site before making a move.
I use my foot to open the door to the legal department’s offices. There’s a waiting room already filled with expectant people in black masks sitting in grey, plastic chairs on the other side. Hardly anyone looks up when I come in, which is normal. Anyone that has reason to come to this department is usually pretty involved with their own issues.
The receptionist and I are best friends. She’s one of the coolest people I’ve met in LA and I can’t wait to get brunch with her when I’m no longer a client of her department. She doesn’t know she’s my best friend, true, but I know we vibe.
“‘Sup, Jane?” I crow cheerfully. I surprise a couple of the people waiting and I catch a couple stares before they remember not to pay attention to me. I grin when Jane doesn’t so much as twitch. Her real name isn’t Jane, but it’s what she goes by when she’s working. I’m not supposed to know what she’s called outside of work though her identity isn’t as hard to guess as the Hero Force would hope.
Even if she didn’t lose control of her aura when someone gets on her nerves, Sorceress is distinctive. The greenish tinge under her skin comes from a unique type of energy she’s able to direct rather explosively. There’s not much call for absolute tanks like her whose only power is to destroy, so I’m not surprised that she works in HQ more than anyone sees her in the field.
Jane, without looking up, peels a black mask from the stack on her desk and holds it out to me. “At check in.”
She means that I’m supposed to have received and put on my visitor mask at the security check when I first came in. Like Scott, Jane is a stickler for the rules. Like me, the rest of the staff understands that a thin black mask put on after entering HQ is basically pointless.
I respect her though so I set the coffees on her desk and put it on. Mm, itchy and hot, delightful. I lean on my arms so I can see behind her desk. As usual, every memo is written in code. “Ms. Barry free? I brought her coffee.”
“She’s in a meeting,” Jane says. Her eyes are an incredibly bright purple today. They’re not a result of her powers. She just likes contacts. “You’ll have to wait.”
I cock my head. There’s no screaming or chairs breaking. Is her office soundproof or does she actually have normal meetings sometimes? “Do you know how long?”
Jane shrugs and snags both coffees. When I protest her confiscating my coffee she raises an eyebrow. “Don’t forget mine next time then.”
I splutter. I’ve brought her over a dozen different types of drinks, all of which ended up in the trash. “You don’t drink it!”
“I will now,” Jane says. She drinks from mine, not breaking eye contact with me. I swear there’s smugness lurking behind those contacts. She licks her lips when she lowers the cup and explains, “I’m immune to poison.”
“What?” I ask but she’s already marching back to the offices, intent on delivering Ms. Barry her coffee. Did she pick up poison immunity or was she joking? I can never tell with her.
I might as well grab a seat. The waiting room isn’t as full as I thought. I choose the chair that puts my back against the wall, two empty seats on either side of me. Then, because nobody else is looking up from their lapse, I try to gauge who’s here for what.
There’s a lanky, dark-skinned guy sitting in the chair across from me, long legs stretching well out of his space and into mine. He’s got soft cheeks, a narrow nose, and a widow’s peak under the mask. He’s uncomfortable with it though, fingers coming up to ghost along the edge, so I’m pretty sure he’s not a hero. He’s got superpowers to be here—the Hero Force claims it doesn’t hire based on powers, but they do—but nothing substantial.
Not like the tiny, dark-haired lady in the far corner doing her best to not draw attention to herself.
See, here’s the problem with heroes--they know they’re heroes. Once you accept that knowledge, it changes all these little unconscious things about you. There’s more steel in your spine, you don’t look at people the same way, or maybe your nose gets stuck up in the air permanently. Whatever it is, heroes don’t carry themselves like normal people.
This lady is a prime example. The waiting room is dull, sterile, and small. There are four people sitting around her, all twice her size, and the man closest to her is growling off and on in the dead quiet. She’s sitting right in the corner next to the fake office plant, hands folded neatly in her lap, and she’s not even twitching. I’ve got a weapon in my shoe and I can still feel my soul leaving my body when Wolverine over there starts listing towards me. When a line of drool drips from his lip to his shirt? His mysteriously stained, possibly blood stained shirt? I nearly pull out my homemade crossbow and shoot him with sedatives right then and there.
She? She tips her head back and goes the fuck to sleep.
Sometimes I really, really wonder what a workday for Ms. Barry and her associates looks like.
I’m at eight minutes waiting when I realize who the tiny lady is. It’s not my fault for not realizing it sooner--I’ve never heard of Strong Woman, a Washington DC hero, coming any further west than Chicago. The only reason I know it’s her--I think? Pretty sure?--is because she’s not sitting on a regular chair. She’s sitting on a wooden crate, something that looks like it could be used to ship museum artifacts, and when she leans back it creaks. The strongest person in the world is heavy, something not many people think about.
I only figured it out by calculating what weight she would’ve had to be to stop that truck in D.C. The number is higher than the one you’re thinking. Higher.
I’d ask for her autograph if Jane wouldn’t take me out for comprising another client’s identity.
I frown and tap my fingers against my knee. There’re a lot of out of town heroes here this week. Atlas is from San Francisco, Phantasma from New York, and now Strong Woman from DC. If you add in the fact Dreadwatt’s a Houston villain, you’ve practically got the whole country visiting.
What brings them all to LA?
Scott and I have talked about how much I should pay attention to the Hero Force in the news. I’m still allowed to watch any normal television channels and read any civilian papers, but we both agreed it might be better if I stayed as far away from it all as possible until my probation’s over. I have a tendency to get...over-involved in everything since it was my world for so long.
Something’s going on, but it’s not my business. I try to focus back on the waiting room.
There’s another hero, sitting a chair down from me in fact. I don’t know his identity, but normal humans don’t smell of campfires and lava. I look at him again out of the corner of my eye and grimace. He’s comfortable in the mask, but he’s younger than I first thought. With any luck, he’s here to sign up for the Hero Force’s training academy and isn’t already out on the streets.
The way the world’s been going lately, I’m not as sold on that as I should be.
I end up waiting nearly an hour before Ms. Barry has a moment to spare me. I consider leaving and just sending her an email, but I don’t have anything else scheduled for the day besides working on Momento and his accomplices. It’s not great that my social circle is made up of my boyfriend and my lawyer now that I think about it.
Jane gestures me into Ms. Barry’s office. My coffee is nowhere to be seen, that jerk. There’s no expression on her face, but I swear I can see her hiding a little smirk. Worse, she doesn’t even escort me there. The least she can do is show me a little hospitality after stealing my drink.
Ms. Barry’s office is pristine. I eye the wood chairs across from her desk dubiously. “Do you replace these when your clients break them?”
“Like I have the budget,” Ms. Barry says. She points to a chair with her pen. “Sit. Talk.”
I wander to the bookshelf against the wall instead. “I’ve been sitting for too long.” The usual law books are there and, oddly, a few on physics. I pull one of the physics books off the shelf. “Oh, hey, I think I’ve read this one before.”
“No, you haven’t,” Ms. Barry says.
“No, I haven’t,” I agree. Ms. Barry is one of the few people who believe me when I say science! is my power. It doesn’t do me a lot of good to study. I put the book back on the shelf and say as nonchalantly as possible, “How willing are you to bend a few rules?”
There’s a beat. Ms. Barry sets her pen down. “What rules are you thinking about bending?”
Hot dog, that’s as good as permission.
“I’m not great at morality,” I start to say.
Ms. Barry interrupts. “I’ve seen your scores, yes.”
“Rude.” I drift back over to the guest chairs and grip the back of one. I consider her. Ms. Barry is actually giving me her full attention, glacial eyes fixed on me. “Hypothetically, what would you say if I told you the DOD is hiding incredibly dangerous technology from the Hero Force?”
Ms. Barry studies me. Carefully she asks, “Hypothetically I’d want to know how dangerous?”
“Hypothetically,” I say, “very dangerous.” I want to tell her about New York, but can’t risk her deciding it’s enough to risk both our jobs. I grimace. “It ate a hole through a bunch of stuff I’ve never seen get eaten before.”
Nice. Vague. Succinct.
“Hm.” Ms. Barry leans back in her chair, folding her arms. There’s not a trace of a reaction on her face. “Any casualties?”
I shake my head. “The problem is that Mr. Government Man is lying about this particular case being the only one of its kind. He also let slip that they might push me for more than an analysis.”
“More than an analysis?” Ms. Barry prompts.
“Reverse engineering.”
“Can you?”
I smile at her and don’t say anything.
Ms. Barry doesn’t push. “What are you asking me, Christine?”
“At what point do I drop the hypothetical on this?” I ask. I come around the chair and finally sit. I gesture with my hands. “I’m supposed to trust the system and I’m trying, but this case is making me nervous. Best case, the origin is from some shady government organization doing unauthorized testing. Worst case, this is someone like me and the Hero Force needs to get involved before they escalate.”
“Are you worried about escalation?”
I snort. Didn’t I just say that? “Four out of seven incidents happened in major cities. I’m worried about it continuing.”
Ms. Barry picks her pen back up so she can twirl it between her fingers. “The Hero Force pays me, but I work for you on this. As your lawyer, I’m obligated to remind you that you even bringing these concerns to me tests the boundaries of your agreements. Do you understand?”
Ah, the Scott Response. I nod to let her know I understand. Officially, I shouldn’t be thinking about this stuff in front of Ms. Barry.
“Unofficially,” Ms. Barry continues, “there’re three options. We can both forget about this conversation. You concoct some half-assed report on the incident and trust the DOD to handle it from their end. That’s the safest option. Of the other two, one barely keeps you within the law, the other is very heroic.”
“I’m guessing the heroic one involves me breaking my parole,” I say dryly. I wave her on. “Give me the one most likely to keep me out of jail.”
“Find a way to link it to a super-powered individual,” Ms. Barry says. Her pen twirls faster. “Any criminal damage linked to a super-powered individual is, by law, required to be reported to the Hero Force. Only then can you legally inform them of anything.”
“But it’s not being caused by a super-powered individual,” I say. I’m sure of that. “It’s someone like me.”
Ms. Barry stands. “You may not have the designation, but we both know you have power.” She comes around her desk to open her door. “That’s the best I can do for you, Christine. Come back if there’s a casualty or a connection to someone with powers but, until then, there’s no reason for the Hero Force to get involved.”
I allow myself to be shooed out of her office, thanking her absently for her time. I drop my mask back off with Jane and leave headquarters. LA’s bustling, the sidewalk streaming with people, and I join the crowds rather than going back to my car. I need time to think.
Ms. Barry’s given me a loophole. Mr. Government Man wouldn’t be happy with me digging for the culprit over analysing the photos, but he (probably) couldn’t punish me for it. He’d be even less happy if I turned over a super-powered culprit to the Hero Force, but, again, there’d be very little he could do about it. The Hero Force has jurisdiction over anyone with powers and they don’t need to explain how they discovered them.
The problem is that I know whoever made the bionanites isn’t, legally, a super-powered individual. I mean, probably not. The likelihood of them being able to magically blow bubbles and fabricate microscopic machines is pretty low.
If I was smart, I’d let this go. I’ve already put a year of good time into my community service and I’d be an idiot to mess that up because someone’s burning holes in cities. I did way worse when I was a villain. As long as there’s no casualties, what do I care?
I buy myself a taco from a food truck. The skyscrapers around me are starting to thin out, shrinking as I head a little out of downtown. The streets are pockmarked and stained with years of filth out here. That’s how you know the shabby restaurants on either side of the road are good. The dirtier LA gets, the more flavor it acquires.
I eat and walk. There’s no way to tell if there are going to be casualties or not. I know the bionanites are fully capable of liquefying steel; a human body wouldn’t be a problem for them.
This is why people with my abilities need to be brought under super-powered legislation. If someone was out there using fire to burn the city, heroes would already be out to detain them. No exceptions. Supers have the right to use their powers, sure, but the moment they do so in public, they become criminals. Instead, the DOD is playing some sort of demented game of telephone with me in the hopes of acquiring the technology that can melt through bedrock.
Mr. Government Man gave himself away with his reverse-engineering comment. He basically told me that they weren’t using my abilities to stop the attacks. I have no doubt that it’s a bigger priority to them than detaining the culprit.
I throw away my taco napkin and make a u-turn back towards my car. My best bet is to find the culprit, super-powered or not. I don’t have enough information to move forward. I’m not going to give Mr. Government Man a reconstruction of the bionanite—it’s exactly the sort of technology the DOD’s confiscated and abused before. They’ve gotten enough inventions from me to last a lifetime. I’m not just going to hand over someone else’s.
At the same time, I’m not going to let some super scientist run around doing whatever they want. I’m the only super scientist allowed to do that and I’m retired.
When I get back to my car, I’ve got a parking ticket for parking in a Hero Force spot without Hero Force tags.
Being retired sucks.
