My Super Secret Life…Villain-3

Chapter 3

My home sweet home is the top floor of an old red brick seven story place, it‘s a walk up. The land lord and I have a deal going on cash rent or for services rendered. Not sex or even crime but he thinks I’ve a source for building materials and stuff. I can get stuff.

Yeah sometimes I steal from hardware chains too. It’s pretty easy to get lumber and stuff too because just about all these places have debit cards. Just get it delivered to a safe addy and I know a couple of guys that will use their half ton trucks to help me get it to here.

But I don’t have to do that much.

Anyway, it’s work stuff still and I’m home.

Home sweet home.

I unlock my door and walk in and Squeaker comes over to wrap around my legs and let out this kitten sounding meow even though she’s an adult cat. She’s a mutant like me but of the animal kind blue grey fur and solid chrome eyes she’s a rescue from some lab someone I know was involved in robbing. Dumped her on my fire escape. Any shelter would have put her down right away. No powers that I know of she’s just a spaz.

Like standing on her hind legs and looking through my bags both front legs in the bag as she paws through the stuff I bought.

I ditch the heels and plop myself on my couch and sink my feet into the thick pile rug. If you’ve been wearing shoes that hurt you feet get a good chunk of carpet and curl your toes into it over and over. It helps.

Being a TK really helps too in times like these I’m relaxing while I’m making coffee. I shouldn’t be having one I should be sleeping but I like coffee. Besides it’s not like I have school to got to or a normal job so I crash when I crash.

I get up and nudge the cat out of the bags and start putting things away. My cake first out of the box and into my cake dish. Then a few things into my closets…I store stuff you never know when you’re going to need something.

I think I’m a bit OCD about this stuff but I keep batteries, and bandages, pre-packaged food and candy plus my favorite survival food soup in a can. I know, canned soup’s canned soup but this is like the coffee in a can stuff that when you pop the top like a can of soda there’s this thing inside that heats the coffee or in this case the soup.

I’ve cases of all of them in the closet. They’re fast, taste okay and really useful. You’d be surprised how much goodwill you can earn with street people by the odd hot can of soup to drink on a crappy night. There’s been an idea there fermenting but I don’t quite have it yet.

My groceries go to the three fridges I have, I’ve recovered them from other apartments and one’s for food, one’s for drinks and the third is for my leftovers. I know it’s strange.

I’m strange.
And that’s a lonely self pitying thought I’m always living.

I get out of the girls clothes and I go and take a hot bath. I have one of those big deep square tubs and as small as I am I can really soak. No bubbles but I do like bath salts to help me relax. That and I put in my ear-buds for my Aqua-pod a P’hari version of the I-pod built for listening to music under water.

Hot water, music and I sink in the bath and I stay there for a long time. When I need to breath I pull a bubble of air down through the water and fit it over my mouth like a mask. I’m not actually using TK on the air that’s seriously hard to do but I’m wrapping air in water instead.

It’s so nice under here, I can just listen to my music and forget the world for awhile, forget myself.

Why?

I have no real gender. I was born male and when my lower sex organs changed I didn’t get the equipment inside to go with it. I don’t have hips or breasts, no female nipples, no muscles that bulge, no great shoulders or anything.

No sexual identity, no puberty, no sex drive….you have any idea what it’s like to be adrift like that? I want to feel it, to feel something…normal, to have a relationship.

Yeah I’ve tried the hormones, stole stuff on both sides but guess what? Another secret power! I’m immune to them, actually I’m immune to just about any kind of drug, or toxins for some reason. Including booze and over the counter stuff. I can’t get drunk, stoned, Tylenol type stuff won’t get rid of my headaches…

I’ve masturbated or tried to but…when you don’t feel it…

I cry while I’m under here. I just want what everybody else wants!

………………………………..............the water’s cold or close to it when I get out of the tub feeling drained and I slip into my panties. I just wear Hannity’s they’re just a mid range comfy panty, cotton and soft then my red flannel Pj’s and an Ark City Angels guy’s baseball hoody. (Baseball team.)

I get a big bowl mug out and TK form really compacted balls of vanilla ice cream and them pour just a bit of really strong black coffee over them and grab a few biscotti then sit on my sofa curled up and turn on the TV.

It was so now eating ice cream TV.

Every channel, every channel had the massive battle going on downtown between the AA’s and the Ultimatum. It’s a really huge fight, the Ultimatum are big league villains, stark raving psychos really led by this guy called Paragon and he’s a really powerful meta and one of those might makes right we are the next step of evolution idiots.

I don’t have any desire to be ant better or any different than anyone else. The only thing I’d wished for would have been a decent family life before all this started but why should I be any different than anyone else.

But Paragon…he’s one of those guys that normal means useless, or next to it. The thing that keeps him from running a place like freak town into a meta army is the fact that he’s a snob. Anthro’s make up a lot of the mutant kind here on New Haven, actually over half most likely. To this psycho they’re made not born and one step above human normals.

But this shit, this amount of devastation and people getting hurt will just come down harder on all of us. The politicos will get all horned up over this, something this big will get on the news feeds in the galactic media.

It’s like watching a terror attack going on and being part of the terrorists “Demographic.”

It’s one of those things that you hate to watch but gotta watch.

What?

Me, go help?

Get arrested…and what could I do really? I’m not a hero, I’m not the kind of person that goes out on a limb to that. I’d get killed. Still I pull my knees to my chest and chew on my thumb.

I watch for hours like most of the planet.

Then…

~Help.~

~Please Help!~

“What?”

I see a flash…

* It’s a bus, an old one and inside there’s children, kids, anthro’s and meta kids and there’s these guys. Grey urban cammo’s grey lycra masks and sledgehammers. They’re bashing the hell out of the bus and yelling, laughing….*

These guys I know, racists, purists called The New Masons.

I’m not a good person. I don’t do these things. I don’t get involved.

Wig, black lycra body suit, belt of heavy pouches with hold outs, boots, white pancake make up studded choker and gloves.

I’m running over the rooftops, TK Parkour, I’m strong enough to cancel my weight off, and boost my jumps, control my falls and landings.

These are kids.

Kids.

One of them had called me scared, so scared.

And now I’m moving even before I could talk myself out of it.

I come off seven stories to land hard on the roof of the bus and shed off the force of my fall all that kinetics I transmit out and shove the closest Masons to the ground. There’s two adults fighting them or were trying to but there’s four cars that cut the bus off from going anywhere…it was like twenty to two here.

One of the defenders I think I’ve heard of an Anthro-German-Sheppard ex-cop by the name of Sheppard he’s in a hoody and long coat with a crook-staff and he’s an expert with the thing. The other’s a girl? An elf? Green stocking cap like a bad x-mas joke over a blonde mop and dressed in an army surplus jacket and from what I can see black jeggings and snakeskin cowboy boots with a sword and a shield.

They step closer to the bus given a breather. The Masons look up towards me and I stand and TH tweak my voice a trick that I’ve been trying to adding this hollow tone to my voice.

“Step back and away from the children and you can leave.”

“Go to hell you fucking mutie freak!” one of them yells.

I open several of my belt pouches.

They have sledgehammers but those are just their signature weapons. Several have knives, axes, machetes, and guns.

“Get the freaks!”

They start firing with the guns and I focus as I drop off the bus kicking a hammer in the face.

Focus…?

A TK plug. In the barrel of the guns, see bullets need to get out of the guns for the guns to work…I fill the whole gun with force being able to feel the hollow tube more than focus on the end of the barrel. Ask any gun nut, the barrel needs to be clear. If the fired one shot they’d be fine but these guys are just street-thug-red-necked assholes so I’m smiling when they squeeze off several rounds and their gun blow apart, some get off okay others are screaming because the gun blew and they got hurt.

Then it’s on.

I’m not a fighter, but I can. You don’t go to a place like freak town and get out alive unless you can defend yourself or are ganged up. It’s dangerous being an independent. I unleash my weapons from my pouch black glass marbles. My whole lift weight like I said isn’t much but….I can lift that much my mind, when I throw something it’s all focused, there’s no body mechanics to fight in hurling something.

It doesn’t take much to get dangerous velocity on them. “Sheppard get them out of here.”

“Can’t they shot through the engine block.”

“Fuck, hold on.”

I wade into them and I hit them hard and every time they swing on me I have marbles to spare and they hit arms, hands, balls, I avoid the face or the head. I could kill them and a murder charge or several are the last things I need added to my rap-sheet. As it is I’m breaking and fracturing things on them and I don’t care. In fact I do more than what I’d need to stop them. I hail the hits on some of them, beat them black, blue and bloody. Until I leave about six still up and able to get out of there.

Then I stop.

“This is the brickyards, this is my turf you little assholes. This never happens again or I play dirty.”

“Dirty, fuck you mutie, if you had dirty…”

I Vader choke him. “Shut the fuck up dirt bag.”

I look purposefully to one of the downed gunmen and I float up but spare gunclips and press and release all the rounds catching them mentally and making them hover and move like the marbles.

“You could’ve been dead a long time ago. And yes I can play dirty.” I aim all forty two rounds at one of their cars and I depress all the primers at the same time massively peppering the shit out of the car.

It’s a bluff. Tk shooting, needs a barrel to be accurate and I’m shooting these at an unmoving sedan at twenty feet away. It’s a good bluff. They don’t know better…

“Take your friends and run, get the fuck out of here and the next time I will get nasty.”

They get the ones the can away and they carry the rest and take off in the remaining cars.

“Let’s get going.” I say after a few minutes with them gone.

“The bus is fucked…?”

“Rook, they call me Rook.”

He looks at me, limping over. “We can’t get it going Rook and sooner or later there will be government types and cops getting over here.”

“They’re already on their way, likely someone in the Mason’s has contacts within the Homeworld Security offices just for times like this.” I look at the bus. “How far you gotta go?”

“Delacroix Station.”

I kneel looking under the bus and feeling. “Alright, get everyone on.”

“I said.”

“I know, I can get you there but I can’t drive.”

“I can drive. But…”

The elf girl comes over minus her sword and shield? “Sheppard don’t look a gift horse in the mouth huh.”

“Okay you’re right you sure you can do this?”

“Yeah.”

Oh I hope this works.

I get on with them reaching out and concentrating and it’s hard, it’s really hard to get it started…move…move…turn…and spin that transmission and the faster I get it going the easier it is.

“Go…I’m not sure how long I can do this for.”

There’s a quiet cheer as we move forwards, I can see these are forwarders, Chinese clothes and Red Star army surplus stuff. Anthro-wise I see tigers, a few other felines, panda’s some others and about just over a dozen stark white skinned Chinese people. Refugee’s, and they’re non-human refugee’s according to homeworld security.

Lots and lots of bullshit…Quarantines designed to turn people away, send and ship them away. Scared who might be dangerous…people should not have to grow up like these people have…I see barcodes on a lot of wrists.

………………………………...... We get to Delacroix Station it’s this old condemned railway and subway station way out near the edge of The Brickyards and the start of The Pipes. That’s the outer cities industrial old sectors, The Brickyards were build as the home and neighborhoods for The Pipes. You name it they brew it or build it here. The Station was part of the hub of the old subway system. It’s been made irrelevant with the invention of the three section hover busses and the skyrail mag-trains. And it being too expensive to reuse it or tear it down it’s been left and closed.

It’s one of the ways to get down, well it’s the start of that trip.

I’m leaning on the bus watching them taking the damned few things they have and getting ready to take that long, long trek down there. It startled me a little when the elf girl was there beside me.

“Rook right?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for this, …. This was a big deal…”

“No, I was defending my stuff, my streets…”

“But you’re a hood, hoods don’t do that.”

“Whatever…” I hunch my shoulders and push off the bus. She takes my wrist before I leave and she stares at me.

“I’m sorry, it’s just Sheppard said stuff.”

“It’s likely right.”

“You saved us Rook, you saved us when you just could’ve left us to twist in the wind. That says a lot about you. Even the way you handled it and didn’t sink to their level….you…you don’t see that anymore….thank you.”

She steps up and she kisses me, she kisses me and…it’s passionate and it’s long and deep and…her fingers slip through my hair, tease my scalp and…and….God…I can’t think, I can’t breathe right and she keeps going until I’m sitting on the steps of the bus then breaks the kiss.

“I’ve gotta go…it’s a long trip…” She lick her lips, teeth bite-scrapes them like she’s tasting me as she walks away from me backwards and I …I…I’ve never met, seen anyone like her…I’m sweating…from being kissed? Why’s it so hot? It’s hard to breathe…

I’m sitting there…feeling I don’t know…?

She’s almost out of sight down the tunnel and I yell out. “Wait..! What’s your name?”

“Link!, They call me Link!”

Then she’s gone.

I sit there trying to figure out what’s happening to me…there’s this ache, this warmth and this…oh…oh…I’m…wet.

God I’m feeling something…oh bloody hell…what do I do?