Wearing The Cape: Villains Inc. (18 page)

Then I heard the worst words a teenager can hear from an adult.

“Hope,” he said, “we need to talk.”

After more than half a century of comic-books before the Event and a decade after, American
superhumans
who fight crime are practically
required
to do it in costume. Not that they fight it much—a lot of
superhumans
share the same powers, and their costumes make them easily identifiable in the crunch when they need people to know who they are and take them seriously. The miracle of media programming is that we can take anyone in tights and a mask seriously.

Dr.
Mendell
,
Superhumans
and Society.

“We’ll up our security measures for your family and friends,” Blackstone said. “Just in case. Panic buttons, that kind of thing. But there are a couple of things I’ve been putting off talking to you about, and we’re out of time.”

I sat up straight, and he watched me take a breath.

“First, we’re getting more power on the team. Lei
Zi
, Riptide, Seven, Vulcan, have all been a boost for us, but the Sentinels are Chicago’s heavy-hitters. We’re the CAI heroes called in when serious firepower is needed, and we lost all three of our strongest, two of our most mobile, in LA. And I’m out of the field now, too. I think you’ll agree, after what almost happened last night, we need to toughen the point of our spear.”

He waited until I nodded.

“I’ve had feelers out for another Atlas-type hero since January, but it can’t be just any Atlas-type; we need someone at least up to your fighting weight, experienced, and able to continue your interrupted fight-training.” He raised a hand, stopping my protest. “You’re certified now, and John and Charles did a good job bringing you along fast, but you’re not finished and unless we find you serious sparring partners, you’ll lose what you’ve got.”

“Rook—”

“Offered, and that would help, but regular trips to LA won’t cut it; you need daily workouts, a hard-training program again.”

I couldn’t argue; a retired marine, he would know what it took to be fight-ready. “So, who?”

“You’ve met him. Lieutenant Troy
Dahmer
, ironically—the
supersoldier
who tried to recruit you for the Army. His current tour is up, and he’s looking for a civilian job.”

Lieutenant
Dahmer
: buzz-cut blond hair, nice face, thin scar from the corner of his eye down to his chin. A soldier’s soldier with a weird sense of humor. He sounded good, but it didn’t feel right. “Everyone will be comparing him to Atlas.”

“He could
be
Atlas,” Blackstone said.

“
No—
”

He held up his hand again.

“I said ‘could,’ not ‘is.’ The truth is, the team owns Atlas’ name and symbol; we could bring
Dahmer
in, slap the ‘A’ on his chest, and use him to continue the legacy John created. And there’ve been some suggestions in that direction. But John made Atlas a symbol that was bigger than just the Sentinels. He was the
first
, and he set the standard the public measures capes by.”

He ran a hand through his hair, the lines around his eyes deepening.

“Hope, John
wanted
the ‘A’ to be used. He was the goddamned Last Cowboy, and you
know
he always expected to die with his boots on.”

I nodded, my throat closing up.

“I never understood why, until afterward,” he went on. “But he saw the A like a marshal’s badge, a symbol to be passed on. He was wrong. Nobody else is going to wear the A. The current non-scandal will fade and all anyone will remember is the good he did, but you’re right; the public will see any Atlas-type we bring in as his replacement, and it won’t go down well. Unless
you’re
his replacement.”

“
Me
?” I squeaked.

“Sidekick, remember? You’re the real heir of his legacy. I’m not saying you’ve got to wear the A, and you certainly don’t want to use the name, but it’s time you stepped up. Drop the black. All the public sees now is a kid acting dramatic. Andrew sent you a new costume a month ago, in your old Atlas-colors, and if anyone knows what the public needs to see, it’s him. Step up, and we can bring Lt.
Dahmer
in without any blowback. The team will be stronger, you’ll be trained, and John will get his wish if not the way he expected; it’s a win for everyone. Think about it. Because tomorrow Lei
Zi
and I have a job for you.”

Blackstone left it at that, and I got on with my day. Tom drove me back to get my car, as silent as Tom-Bob-Willis—the whole Platoon gang—always was. I wondered if Platoon was Blackstone’s DSA contact. Finally back in my rooms in the Dome, I wrote up the incident report, then stripped down and walked into my closet.

Blackstone had said “step up” but he might as well have said “grow up.” Was I being that unprofessional? Why
had
I gone with black? I hadn’t felt comfortable, in the blue and white, but… Yuck. Maybe the tabloids were right for once; maybe I
was
acting like a drama-queen. How Victorian of me. I sighed. It couldn’t hurt to look.

Shelly popped in as I pulled the new costume out of its bag.

“Wow,” she said. “You’re going to do it?”

“Why?” I didn’t trust her playful grin.

“No reason. Just thinking you may need help.”

I dropped the outfit on my bed and looked at the picture and instructions that came with it.

“Oh,
hell
no!”

My BFF since childhood collapsed into shrieks of laughter.

The thing came in two parts, plus cape, mask, boots, and gloves. The mask was my old leather half-mask and wig, in Atlas’ cobalt blue. The short cape looked the same too, but blue with my star in white. But the body of the costume…

I sighed. I’d dress,
then
I’d go strangle Andrew. He at least deserved to see why he was going to die.

First I put on the white spandex tights. The legs ended in stirrups for my feet, and the high waist attached to suspenders with snaps. The blue bodysuit was harder to get into. Of layered and seamed spandex, it had the high neck and long sleeves that I liked, but its bottom might as well have been a thong. The bodysuit had to weigh at least ten pounds on its own, with reinforced ribbing that made it tight as a corset under the spandex, and heavy snaps up the front that locked me in. The suit’s leg came up to the top of my hips, and despite the tights I felt like I had a permanent
wedgy
.

I attached the cape and looked down, ignoring Shell’s ongoing giggle-fits.

“Nice boo-
teh
,” she gasped.

“Can I go out in
public
in this?”

“It’s not like you’re flashing skin. Fact—you’re covering more than you used to. At least the cape hides your butt.”

I groaned, then pulled on the boots and gloves and looked in the mirror. Whatever else Andrew had been thinking, it did make me look more grown up. No costume could give me stature or make me look anything but elfin and petite, but the bodysuit pulled in my already-small waist and it had the usual bust enhancement, giving me an almost hourglass shape. The bright silver snaps displaced my crest, so Andrew had shrunk it and moved it higher and to the left so I wore the six-pointed star like a sheriff’s badge. The tabloids could call me a minor all they wanted, but nobody seeing me in this would pay much attention to them.

I looked at the instruction card again, flipped it over. He must have anticipated my reaction, because on the back he’d scrawled
The snaps are titanium-alloy and can take temps as hot as you can, and the reinforcement and fireproofing will prevent wardrobe malfunctions. You shred too many costumes, girl.

Maybe The Harlequin wouldn’t mind if I only hurt Andrew a little.

I dropped to the bed. “Hey!” Shelly complained, rolling over so I wasn’t lying through her virtual self anymore. I wiggled with the unfamiliar feel of the costume, sighed.

She echoed me. “Did we do it?”

“Do what?”

“Save Blackstone. I mean—we
outed
the villain that killed him before, right? And the Outfit’s
so
not after him now. They don’t want anything to do with any of us, or what was the point of today?”

“I don’t know,” I said slowly, sitting up and hugging my knees. “I wish we knew why the Wicked Witch killed him in the first place. Maybe only Blackstone was a threat to her before, but the whole
team’s
a threat now,
and
the police,
and
the DSA if she manages to get out of Chicago and becomes an interstate fugitive.”

I chewed my lip, but before I could chase my thoughts around some more Shelly got that abstracted look. She made a face.

“We’ve got a call from the CPD Detective Division, Fisher’s team,” she said. “He wants you at the Great Lakes Mercedes dealership. It’s another murder.”

“Of course he does.” I looked down at myself. I could change, but what would be the point? I’d already made up my mind.

“Blackstone flagged us,” Shelly added. “You’re supposed to take Galatea.”

“
Aaand
that’s the plum in the pudding.”

“She’s different,” Fisher said, smiling. “You, too.”

“Galatea, this is Detective Fisher. Detective, Galatea, Vulcan’s
gynoid
field unit.”

“Good evening, detective. I am pleased to meet you.”

“Are you really?”

She looked at me. “Is that a normal social response?”

“Don’t make me hurt you,” I said to Fisher, rolling my eyes. “Galatea, file Detective Fisher’s response under ‘humor’ and don’t use it.”

“Thank you, Astra.”

Fisher chuckled, crushed out his cigarette, and opened the door to usher us into the dealership showroom. He hardly needed to; every one of the building’s bay windows had been shattered and we could have stepped in anywhere. I opened my mouth to ask him about the
Millibrand
case, and he shook his head.
Later
.

Phelps and Wyatt turned our way as we stepped inside. Both stopped what they were doing and couldn’t decide who to look at, making me think it might have been a good idea to bring Galatea along after all; her silver and white neoprene
catsuit
showed the ridges and bumps of her articulation, and her mannequin’s face, barely mobile, gave away what she was to anyone who watched her for more than a second.

Officer Wyatt settled for nodding to me before turning back to his interview, but Phelps joined us.

“George is talking to the last customer,” he said. “I’ve got the sales manager waiting upstairs. What’s this?”

“
She
,” I said, “is Galatea, and she’s with me.”

“Phelps,” Fisher said as the junior detective started to puff up. “I’ll be upstairs in a minute, after I show Astra and Galatea the security footage and they’ve had a look around.” He led the two of us to the other side of the floor. “Two in two weeks. Sorry about this, kid.”

I choked. I recognized the body hidden by the silver Mercedes.