Marked Target ~ Chapter Eleven ~ by: Danielle Krieger (c) 2011 Lawrence "Lex" McKinley lives about as average a life as one can with metahumans popping up everywhere. Well, as normal as someone who spends their free time as an MMA fighter really can. He's about to get the shock of his life--the punch he never saw coming. In this installment: Lex enjoys a fateful reunion with someone from her past and must confront all the ramifications of it. Agent Helligan and a lawyer help iron out the details. A long awaited heart-to-heart finally occurs. Lex shows her mettle to those who would doubt her.

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DISCLAIMER :: This is a retroactive continuity. A “ret-con”, if you will. It follows other stories in Lilith Langtree’s “Comics RetCon Universe”. The story is mine, but some of the characters are not. This is a RetCon of X-23, from Marvel Comics’ X-men (with a special guest appearance from Dr. Hank McCoy). Laura Kinney, X-23, Dr. Henry Philip “Hank” McCoy, Beast, and Jennifer Walters, SheHulk, are trademarks of Marvel Comics. Agent Helligan is a trademark of Detective Comics. All rights reserved. The pic for this chapter was lovingly created by Phil Noto.

Author's Note :: Yes, it's been a long time since there's been an update. I'm really sorry for that. You can check my blog posts if you want the details (what little I provided). It's been a rough go.

This chapter and this posting would NOT be possible without EnemyofFun. Were it not for a file transfer on Skype, I still wouldn't have the part I'd actually written of this chapter. Thank you for your continued support and the occasional shoulder to cry on. Asari Adept is STILL the best class in ME3 multiplayer. :P

Of course, not one word of this story would exist without the idea from Lilith Langtree. Thanks for letting us play in your sandbox, hon. ;)

The beta readers for this chapter were Valentine and Joe_Q, who both found the reference in Chapter 10. It's been a while and they had to go back to read ALL TEN CHAPTERS, thus far, to accurately beta THIS chapter. You guys ROCK! xD

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Chapter Eleven:

Standing there like an idiot for a moment, I was nothing except dumbfounded. Even though I hadn’t seen her in about three years or so, it was as though my eyes were seeing this woman for the very first time. Ever since this whole thing started, it seemed as though my whole perspective toward everything had changed. My mother was now an inch taller than I was, rather than four inches shorter. She may have been approaching fifty, but not a single gray hair blemished her chocolate locks. Even filling with tears, her eyes were a stunning green. Now, I knew where I got my eyes from. There wasn’t time to reflect on how I’d managed to miss that detail. Her slender form approached me and thoroughly embraced me.

For a moment, I was overwhelmed with shock and hesitated. That was fleeting as I was filled with a sense of comfort, security, and familiarity. There was a great deal of love in my mother’s embrace. Also, there was a sense of regret, happiness, and relief in there somewhere. I have no idea how I knew that. I could just feel it in the way her muscles gripped around my form. Slowly, tears formed in my eyes and my arms slipped around her. My head turned and rested on her shoulder with relative ease. Interestingly enough, I could even tell this was my mother by her scent. I have no theory on that, either.

I didn’t want it to end, but my mother released with a sniffle. “Let me look at you.” Next, her hands were gently caressing my face and pushing my hair back. Her smile broadened. “There you are. You’ve got your grandmother’s hair, my eyes and chin, along with your grandfather’s little ears.” She nibbled her lower lip. “I don’t know where that forehead, that nose, or those lips came from. They’re not from me, though.” She glanced down at my chest. “And, those are definitely not mine.”

Blushing, I instinctively crossed my arms over my chest, blushed deeply, and whined at her. “Mo-ommm…” There was no doubt, now. Only my mother could embarrass me like that.

She seemed to giggle. “I’m sorry, Lex. It’s been a while and a few things have changed, okay? Humor me?”

Letting out a sigh of defeat, I grumbled. “Fine. Just… close the door, would you?”

As I spun and began heading to the parlor, she pushed the door closed and grabbed my arm. “I don’t think so, young lady. You’d best get upstairs and at least put some pants on.” She lightly and playfully swatted my rear end.

Surprised, a squeak escaped my lips. Spinning back to her, my brow furrowed. “Is that a request or an order? I’m not a child anymore, Mother.”

She put her hands on her hips and smirked at me with a raised eyebrow. Oh, it was an order. “Not from where I’m standing. Now, get up there and do as I’ve asked, please?”

Okay… maybe a suggestion? She had always been rather vexing. I let out a groan. “Fine.”

My feet slapped against the hardwood floor, again, as I trudged toward to the stairs. Behind me, her footsteps echoed slowly. She was obviously scanning the house with her eyes and taking her time getting to the parlor. Once arriving in my room, I started rifling through the clothes on the floor to grab a pair of jeans. Everything was pretty clean, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. Even with my hearing, I could barely make out the small talk going on between Agent Helligan and my mother. They spoke in rather hushed tones, so I could only hear mumbles. Grabbing a random pair of blue jeans and shimmying into them, I was back downstairs pretty quickly.

Upon arriving in the parlor, there was another surprise waiting for me. There was another brunette in a suit sitting and talking with Agent Helligan and my mom. Her hair was lighter than my mother’s, as was the shade of green in her eyes. Unlike the federal agent whom was clad in a pantsuit, this woman wore a navy skirt suit with suntan nylons but the sensible pumps were there. She had her hair tied up in a messy bun and black plastic-framed glasses adorned her face. Her perfume had a sweet smell and was, thankfully, very light.

Obviously, I entered the room with a puzzled expression on my face. The three of them stood. The new girl was a few inches taller than my mother, but that could have been attributed to her heels. Thus, I brushed off her height, for the time being. Agent Helligan nodded toward the new girl who smiled at me.

“Talon, this is…” She began.

The tall woman approached me, holding out her hand. She looked pretty young to me. At best guess, she was in her very early twenties. “Jennifer Walters. Pleasure to meet you.”

She got a guarded expression rather than my hand. “Who let you in my house and why are you here?”

“I let her in, Talon. She is here as legal counsel.” Agent Helligan informed me. “For you.”

“A lawyer? Do I need a lawyer?” My questioning eyes darted between my mother, Agent Helligan, and the woman whose hand was still held out for me to shake. “How are you a lawyer, anyway? You look a little young for that.”

She smiled. “I get that a lot, now.” A quick breath escaped her lips. “Well, has anyone laid out your particular rights and responsibilities according to the Metahuman Classification and Protection Act of 2011 or any subsequent laws passed by the California legislature?” The lawyer woman asked.

My expression went blank. “Well, no, but…”

“Precisely why I’m here. Let’s try this again, shall we? I’m Jennifer Walters and I’ll be your legal counsel, today.” She smiled again.

Finally, I shook her hand. “Generically, I’m known as Talon.”

“Well, Talon, that’s one of the things we’ll be discussing, today. If you’d like to take a seat next to your mother, we can begin the whole process. Sorry, but there’s quite a bit of paperwork to go through.” She looked genuinely remorseful.

Agent Helligan sighed. “Yes, there is a bit of paperwork. I’m sorry it cuts into your reunion with your mother, but it must be done.”

Letting out a sigh, my feet trudged their way into the parlor and I sat down on the couch with my mother. To my left sat Ms. Walters. To my right sat Agent Helligan. Giving me a meek smile, my mom slid her arm over my shoulders. I couldn’t really tell whether she was trying to comfort me or she was just touching me to show a little affection. Did it really matter?

Agent Helligan cleared her throat. “First of all, Talon, I would like to inform you that the claims that man made back in Seattle about your funeral were correct. Everyone you knew was informed that you had been killed in a fire while camping.”

My eyes quickly blinked a few times. “Wait… so, Julia was right when she was all in hysterics when I kept insisting I was me?”

Agent Helligan nodded. “Unfortunately, that is correct. Whoever took you faked your death.”

I could hear my mom sniffle. “It was terrible, Lex. We were so sure we’d lost you.”

Tears welled up in my eyes and my head turned to her. “I’m sorry, Mom. That must have been really hard for you.”

Her grip tightened around me, confirming my suspicions.

“Regardless of that tragic event, your mother gave us permission to exhume the body. We quickly learned that it wasn’t Lawrence McKinley, at all, but a clever fake aimed to detract any further investigation. Dr. McCoy and Dr. Hamilton collaborated and were able to prove that you are, in fact, this woman’s child.” She motioned towards my mother. “Her medical records told us that she only ever had one child, so the deduction from there was rather simple. With that in hand and empirical evidence from other metahumans, we have confirmed your identity.”

“Oh, thank the Maker…” The game had rubbed off a little, but that didn’t change my elation and relief. “I’m really me.”

Now, the lawyer spoke. “Yes, you are legally whom you claim to be. Now, since you are a metahuman, Agent Helligan is now authorized to process your legal paperwork. This includes a new birth certificate, identification cards, immunization records, school records, and even a passport, if you wish. All of that was outlined in the MCPA as her duties.” Agent Helligan handed her a small bundle of paperwork. “This packet, here, includes all the necessary documentation to start that process. You may choose a new name. I would advise discretion because this will be your legal name from this moment forward.” Her eyes met mine and she handed me the bundle. “Have you given the prospect any thought?”

I shook my head. “Honestly? Not really. I mean, I’m not really married to my old name. First, I hate ‘Lawrence’. Second, I’m not a fan of ‘Alexander’, either.” I glanced over at Mom, who was reviewing the papers. “Sorry, Mom.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay, sweetheart. ‘Lawrence’ was Randy’s idea, anyway. Even I didn’t like it.”

Agent Helligan smiled. “Well, neither of those is hardly appropriate, now.”

My mom’s gaze met my own. She, too, bore a smile. “You know I love you, Lex, but it was always a dream of mine to have a daughter. I think every woman secretly dreams of having a little girl to bring up in the world.” Tears welled up in her eyes again. “I never regretted having you, Lex. Not for one minute. It looks like I finally got my wish, though.” She sniffled. “I never would have willingly wished this upon you. Just know that, okay?” Her hand squeezed my shoulder.

Suddenly, there was a tempest of emotion inside of me. Thoughts of my childhood came flooding back to the surface. I had dreamed of being a mother, some day. Sure, the thought of sleeping with a man repulsed me, still, but it was a dream. When I was a child, I didn’t know the mechanics involved. It was really a pipe dream. Growing up was a little awkward, but I’d somehow found a way to cope with the maelstrom inside. Conflicting feelings had hit me from all sides that I’d never been able to pin down. That is, not until all of this had happened to me. In some ways, I still acted like a guy. That was probably going to be a given. For some reason, though, I never really fully hated the transformation from tall, muscular, mid-twenties guy to short, small-statured, teenage girl. At the very least, I made a cute girl.

The dam was insufficient. Tears rolled down my cheeks. With the hormones coursing through my veins and the tempest of emotions, it was inevitable that they would fall. “Mom… I’m not sure how else to put this…”

“You know what I was going to name you, had you been born the way you are now?” She smiled, interrupting me. I shook my head. “Laura.” She let out a sigh. “That doesn’t really seem appropriate, though. It’s dated. A girl your age would get lynched with a name like that.” She took her arm from over my shoulders and took my hand. “What do you think of ‘Lauren’? It’s more appropriate for a teenager, these days.”

A meek smile creased my lips. “I’d like that, Mom. It seems only fitting for you to name me.”

“I hadn’t thought of a middle name, though.” She lamented. “There wasn’t really the time…”

“Alexis.” My reply was swift and automatic. At her questioning look, I nodded. “Blame Rachel for that one. It was all her idea. She used it so she could still call me ‘Lex’, but in reference to a girl’s name. Call me crazy, but I kinda like it.”

“Lauren Alexis…” She mulled over the name, trying it on for size, I’d wager. “That really sounds nice together like that.”

“Very well.” Agent Helligan commented. “So, it’s to be ‘Lauren Alexis Kinney’, then? That’s very nice.”

Again, I blinked. “Kinney?” My eyes darted to my mother for confirmation.

She nodded. “That’s right, honey. We’ll be using my maiden name. As it turns out, Randall isn’t really your father, after all.”

“Oh, thank God!” I breathed. “Mom, not to jab a blunt spoon through your heart, but you’re better off without that asshole.”

“He was a good man… once. I loved the man I knew before we got married. I stayed with him because I didn’t know anything else.” She squeezed my hand gently. “I’m sorry I put you through those things merely because of my own insecurities.”

More tears. Fucking hormones. “You didn’t do it, Mom. Randall did. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Ms. Walters took a breath. “Right. I hate to break it up, ladies, but we’ve got quite the ordeal to undertake. Ms. Kinney, if you’ll go ahead, fill out the required spaces, and sign the appropriate pages, we can move on from here.”

My mom took a pen provided and began to fill out the forms.

“I know this must be hard on the both of you, but I want you to know that you have the full support of the DMA on this.” Agent Helligan explained. Her gaze fell on me. “Now, Lauren, I want you to know that this information is going into an individual file through the U.S. Marshal’s Witness Protection Program. It will all remain in paper format. It will not be converted into computer files until you give the authorization. That’s not going to be my call to make. When you feel safe and don’t feel that people are actively searching for you, any longer, then you just say the word and we’ll get it all sorted out. Does that sound like a plan to you?”

My brow furrowed. It was a little weird hearing the name my mother had just bestowed on me being used for the first time. “So, it’s my call to make about when to put it into the computer? Wow. Thanks.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome. I know there’s an atmosphere of distrust. Given what you’ve been through, I can’t say that I blame you. I just wanted you to know that I understand the reasoning for you paranoia.”

“What changed your mind on that?”

“The lengths these people went through to fake your death and attempt to cover up what was really going on struck a messy chord. We still don’t have a positive I-D on that facility you mentioned, but give it time.” She turned and dug into her briefcase once more. She pulled out a rather sizable file folder. “For the sake of your safety, I had some friends go through and create a whole new identity for you. Other than the name, they’ve established everything. Everything you would imagine could be in a sixteen-year-old girl’s file is in here.”

“May I examine those, Agent Helligan?” Ms. Walters asked.

The agent passed the bundle to the lawyer. “It’s a whole new life for you. It even comes with a stipend from Uncle Sam, to the tune of $15,000.”

The lawyer mumbled from the paper work. “Article 2, Section 4, Subsection C of the MCPA: A stipend to be awarded to newly confirmed metahumans shall be given under the discretion of the local Special Agent In Charge and determined by the SAIC and Director on a case-by-case basis. A one-time-only award shall be given to cover expenses associated with any and all anticipated metamorphoses.”

Agent Helligan nodded. “Exactly. Very astute recitation, Ms. Walters.”

The lawyer glanced over the frame of her glasses toward the federal agent. “I am very good at what I do, Agent Helligan.”

I blinked. “So, what does this all mean for me, exactly?”

“A new beginning.” Agent Helligan smiled. “This is the start of a new life for you.”

Ms. Walters thumbed through the pages. “Yes, well, everything is in here. It has a new birth certificate that states Sarah as the mother, but doesn’t list a father. There are immunization records, a passport form, and school records as well. Apparently, you’re on your way to a 4.0, young lady. I wouldn’t tarnish that. It also states that you’re to be transferred as a sophomore into Jack Kirby Central High School after Spring Break.”

“What?!” My mother and I chorused.

“For your protection, Lauren, we have made arrangements for you to attend school. There are U.S. Marshals watching the house and we have a detail that will be ready for surveillance at the school. For the sake of safety, we thought it best for you to procure the identity of an average teenage girl. It’s the best I could come up with.” Agent Helligan explained.

“But… I’ve graduated high school! I’m the Class of 2003 at Falls City High! I graduated from the University of Washington in 2007, magna cum laude I might add! Why do I have to go back to High School?” This was starting to piss me off.

“Do you not believe those men are still after you? If so, the best thing we can do is everything possible to keep you safe. Do you want to be cooped up in the house all day or would you rather develop some semblance of a social life? This is a second chance at life that most would kill for.”

Rising angrily, my glare zeroed in on Agent Helligan. Tears rolled down my face at record pace, but I didn’t care. Even if my voice went shrill, I had to get this out. “I don’t want a new life, Miss Federal Agent! I want my life back! I want to go back to my home! I want to hang out with my friends, again! I want my naive sense of security back! I want my dream job back!”

Sobs were beginning to overtake me. “Do you know that ever since I first laid eyes on Super Mario World that I knew what I wanted to do with my life? Ever since I picked up a Genesis controller and rolled around a level as Sonic, I knew that. When I first touched Golden Eye, I wanted to know the code they used to transfer the ricochet and explosion animations into paintball splatter! I wanted all of that!”

A huge sob forced me to take an audible breath. I could feel my knees start to buckle as sobs rippled through me. “I want to hold the only woman I’ve ever truly loved in my arms, again. Life doesn’t mean a goddamn thing without what we shared together.” A sobbing, defeated sigh emitted from deep within the bowels of my resolve. “I want the lives of those seven men back. Not just for myself and my own conscience, but for their families and their friends.” The river of tears continued, I sniffled. “I want all of that back. You can’t give it to me and neither can your measly fifteen-grand.”

Nearly limp, my body sank back down onto the couch. I could feel my mother’s arms wrap around me in a comforting embrace. For a few moments, nothing was said. The heaviness of the mood in the room engulfed us all. Finally, Agent Helligan cleared her throat.

“Lex, I cannot begin to comprehend what you’re going through. I’m sorry if I have seemed to not be compassionate about your plight. You expressed that you don’t feel safe. I wanted to give you that, but it appears that we’ve gone about it the wrong way.”

I felt a hand gently land on my knee. When I looked up, Ms. Walters was right beside me. “I can comprehend it, Lex. You see, I am a metahuman, as well. Looking at me, you’d probably never guess that just last year I was a forty-six-year-old man. I was five-feet-eleven, had a good build, and shared my bed with beautiful women who were just as attracted to my looks as my money. I was a successful attorney at an up-and-coming firm with a mountain of cases under my belt. In my short tenure, I had made partner and enjoyed the perks. Today, I’m three inches shorter, twenty-six years younger, very female, and in an entry level position at a different firm. Thankfully, I’m not paid at a twenty-percent reduction most female employees face in my line of work. Believe me; I get all of your anger and frustration.

“From a purely legal standpoint, Agent Helligan is doing everything she possibly can to ensure your safety without having to sacrifice too many comforts. I would whole-heartedly object to her or the U.S. Marshals placing you on some kind of house arrest. You’ve done nothing wrong, in the eyes of the law. The attack at the Washington State Convention Center has been ruled as self-defense, but we can’t announce that publicly–not with people trying to track you down, anyway. Until something can be done about the people tracking you down, there are limited options. The Witness Protection Program seems the most logical step.”

My mother’s arm tightened across my shoulders. “I’m right here with you, Lex.”

I glanced back at her. “So… why your maiden name, then? Why didn’t Randall come with you?”

“That man is currently awaiting trial for Assault and Battery, visited on your mother. He attacked her right in front of my team and me in the next instant after we told him that he wasn’t your actual father.” Agent Helligan explained. Was that venom in her voice?

My forehead fell into my palm. “Wow, he really was a fucking bastard, wasn't he?”

My mother spun and glared at me. “Lauren Alexis!” She blinked. “Wow, that really rolled off my tongue easier than I thought it would.”

My eyes darted between the three of them. “So… who really is my dad?”

Agent Helligan shrugged. “We don’t actually know.”

“It’s not in any of your paperwork.” Ms. Walters confirmed.

“I…” My mother began. “Well, if it isn’t Randall, then I’m not entirely sure, honey.” Then, something hit her. “Wait… just before he and I were engaged, I did my residency at a hospital in Toronto.” She blushed. “There were three men that I slept with while I was there. I was young and impulsive.”

“Why didn’t you mention any of this before, Ms. Kinney?” Agent Helligan raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t really think it was all that relevant, actually. I was a stupid young girl, then. Besides, I only ever got their first names, anyway. They were one-night-stands.” Again, she blushed.

My stomach wretched, “I think I’m going to be sick…” My mother’s chiding glare met my eyes. “Oh, come on! I don’t want to be privy to my mother’s sexual exploits, thanks!”

“In that case, Ms. Kinney, why don’t we step into the other room? We can talk about those details while Ms. Walters explains some of the legal jargon to your daughter.” Agent Helligan suggested.

Three days passed. My mother moved into the room across the hall from me. A team of U.S. Marshalls and DMA agents moved into three apartments in the building across the street. My mind was still trying to grapple with all the details of what was happening. Ms. Walters had gotten a hotel room downtown rather than commute from Los Angeles to help my mom and me through all the paperwork and legal ramifications of my new reality. Like waves on a beach, the whole episode seemed like a torrent at first and then calmed down to a nearly unnerving placid.

As one would expect, my mother spent a day or two waiting on me hand and foot, doting on me every chance she got. Without a second thought, I dove into my video games again, making a desperate attempt to shut it all out and find some sense of normalcy where none existed. Naturally, my mother scolded me for wasting time and brain cells on the “pointless” activity, then asked me to take the trash out. Figures. I’m not going to lie: it was nice to have some of her home-cooked meals again. I had sorely missed them.

One morning, though, seemed different. My eyelids fluttered open to the gentle beams of sunlight dripping through the window. My body still didn’t feel like moving, so I lay there for a few moments to let my brain catch up and my body to get with the program. One of the many things about my mother moving in was the assault on my olfactory system. It definitely smelt like a woman lived in the house. Granted, I did use “womanly” shampoo, conditioner, and body wash when I showered and that was in the air. On the other hand, my mother had felt it necessary to pummel the place with some kind of floral scent, too, as if the air somehow needed feminizing. I don’t think it would have bothered me so much if my nose weren’t so bloody sensitive.

Grudgingly, I rose from the bed, scratched my scalp absently, and trudged toward the bathroom. After doing my “business”, I trudged downstairs like a zombie looking for their next meal. At that moment, the strong scent of roasted and percolated Arabica beans hit my nostrils. Wonderful! There was coffee. With a tired smile, I continued my impression of the walking undead toward the kitchen where I was greeted with a large cup of “Joe” and my favorite creamer sitting atop the breakfast bar. My mother was behind the counter in the actual kitchen and greeted me with a smile.

“Good morning, Lex.” She almost sang like a nightingale.

“Mornin’,” came my lower-pitched, exhausted reply. “You’ve never made me coffee in the morning. What’s the occasion?”

She poured herself a cup, sweetened it with a little creamer, and then leaned over the counter. “Julia told me quite a few things about you that I didn’t really know about after you left home. The fact that you like coffee in the morning was one of them.” She smiled, taking a sip. “I thought we’d have a little heart-to-heart, this morning.”

My eyes didn’t meet hers; they were too focused on pouring the creamer into my coffee and stirring. “Um… what about?”

Her tone became very serious. “Don’t get me wrong, Lex. I love you dearly and I’m very happy to know my child is alive, after all.” A sigh escaped her lips. “I have cleaned this whole house, done all the laundry, vacuumed all the carpet, even cleaned your room and tidied up a bit.”

Setting the creamer down and pulling the cup to my lips, my eyes finally met hers. “Yes, I’ve noticed that.” I took a sip.

Her eyes lowered. “I’m ashamed to admit it, honey, but I’ve been avoiding you.”

That engendered an instant confused expression. “What for?”

Another sigh. Great. “You really have changed a lot, honey… and I’m not just talking about your body. I’ve been noticing… little things that are different than the child I knew. I’m not going to lie to you. This whole thing is very strange to me. At first, I was just happy you were alive. Now that things have settled down, the gravity of the situation has taken hold.”

A scoff escaped me. “Tell me about it.”

She gave me a smirk that seemed to convey ‘Will you take this seriously?!’ “It’s not every day that a mother is told the son she raised is now her daughter and she has to live with that reality.”

“You’d be surprised, Mom. There’s more than a few people that I’ve met who have gone through exactly what you have.”

“That may be, but it’s new and a little… can I say ‘weird’?”

A sarcastic chuckle was the first thing out of my mouth. “Yea… you can say that. It’s weird for me, too, okay? I mean, you should have seen some of the promo photos that were taken of me when I was in the MMA circuit.”

“The what?” A lot of confusion was written on her face. Apparently, nobody told her about that aspect of my life. I considered it a pity that no one saw fit to tell my mother what I did when I wasn’t at work. I mean, I worked pretty hard for all the accomplishments I’d made and my own mother wouldn’t even have known about it? That got to me, more than a little.

“I was a fighter, Mom. MMA is ‘mixed martial arts’. You know those Chuck Norris and Jean Claude Van Dam movies?” My brain struggled for a frame of reference she would understand.

“I guess so? I think Randy used to watch some of them, but they were really violent and really not up my alley.”

I shook my head and let out a sigh, grasping for straws. “What about Karate Kid?”

She perked up. “Yes, I liked that movie.”

My smile couldn’t have expressed my elation at finally arriving at our shared frame of reference properly. “You know when Daniel goes to that tournament and finally takes on the Cobra Kai boys that had been bullying him through the whole movie?”

“Yes, and Mr. Miyagi does that thing with his hands to heal Daniel?”

“Right, we’re on the same page.” I set down the cup of coffee to offer visual aids with my hands. “Well, MMA is like that, but the ring is shaped like a stop sign, The Octagon, and the guys all have really good muscle tone. Two muscle-bound men wearing shorts, padded fingerless gloves, and special boots battle it out for points. There’s a whole tournament and everything.” In my voice, there was a tone of regretful reminiscence. I really, truly, missed having my fights. “I was really good at it, Mom. Some said I was well on my way to the national championship.”

“You really did all this… fighting? What did your boss say?”

I smirked. “He was more jealous of my battle scars than how it affected my work performance, which it didn’t. It was pretty rough. I had bumps, bruises, abrasions, and the occasional cut in odd places on my face. It sometimes drove Julia crazy with worry, but I really did enjoy it.” A reflexive sigh escaped. “To go from that to…” My eyes and hands indicated my new body. “…this? Yea, it was really rough… and weird. So, I get it.”

She shook her head, sipping more coffee as I wrapped my hands around my own cup again. “I told you, Lex, that it’s not just your body. It’s not about the fact that you’re a little shorter than me, or that you have breasts on your chest, or your much narrower waist, or your widened hips, or your meaty legs, or the vagina between your thighs. There are other things, too.”

My right eyebrow rose, signaling my curiosity. “Like what?”

“Well, your voice is much higher, but the way you speak is different. You speak melodically, now. You don’t just swagger into the room, anymore, you sachet. And, that thing you were doing with your hands? That’s new, too. There’s others, but we don’t have all day for me to list them out.”

I let out a giggle as I took a sip. “You’ve been watching me, then?”

She immediately pointed at me, as if accusing me of something. “See? You never used to ‘giggle’.” She shook her head. “I’m getting off topic. My point is there are a lot of things about you that are really… feminine. It wasn’t like that before, so it’s a little jarring. It’s almost like… I have to get to know the child I raised from a baby all over again. Does that make sense?”

My eyes lowered. There was some power in the universe that really wanted us to have this conversation. In a way, I was glad for it, but still pretty scared. My eyes lowered as if I were embarrassed by the whole thing. “Well, Mom, in all reality, I was… kind of always like this.”

She furrowed her brow, immediately recognizing how important a step I was taking. “What do you mean by that, sweetheart?”

Feeling her hand touch mine in a comforting and supportive gesture really helped. “I never felt like I could tell anyone. I always bottled it inside. Regardless of whether I enjoyed it or not, I originally got into MMA to beat the feelings out of myself and, in a way, punish myself for not living my life how it all should have been. In some small way, I kinda had a death wish because I blundered into the whole thing without any training expecting it to turn out like street fighting.”

Her voice became somber. “You could have talked to me, honey. Did you not know that?”

Damn hormones. Tears started building up. “I didn’t feel safe in that house, Mom. I didn’t feel safe in Falls City. There was a trans man, a girl becoming a guy, in our town that was brutally beaten, raped, and shot–execution style–all for being himself in that small town. Once I heard that, I freaked out. That’s why I got into the ‘You-dub’ and moved to Seattle, in the first place.”

From the tone of her voice, I could tell she was tearing up, too. I couldn’t look at her, though. “I’m sorry, sweetie… I didn’t know.”

“I wasn’t ready to tell you, yet.” I sniffled. “I did my best to keep it all inside and not let anyone know. Mom, I loved Julia. To a point, I still do, but the relationship started as a farce. I only really got with her to appear ‘normal’.”

“So… you had to make yourself appear as the toughest, most manly guy on the block so you wouldn’t be a victim. Is that it?”

My shoulders moved slightly in an attempt to shrug. “I guess so. That… and try in some way to convince myself that I was a ‘manly man’ in the first place.”

For the next couple of hours, we continued the back and forth question and answer session. It was the first time I’d really ever been open with my mom. I told her everything, including the dream of being a mother some day. She listened and tried to be as supportive as she could. After a bit, we moved from the kitchen area to the couches in the parlor and just kept the conversation going. It had moments of laughter and moments of tears. I told her about the kidnapping, the ‘imprisonment’, my escape, the time with Mike and Steven, and everything that had happened in San Francisco. She wasn’t thrilled about the drinking story, but laughed about Green Arrow breaking the bottle of vodka all over my clothes. All in all, it was the best conversation we’d ever had because of all the honesty flowing between us.

“So, when did you start wearing panties?” My mother asked as we were winding down and she pointed out my sleep shirt’s inability to cover everything up when I sat ‘Indian style’.

Glancing down, I pulled the shirt down between my legs and blushed. “Well… about the start of my period, I guess? I think we both know that they’re kind of a necessity, at that point.”

“So, the transformation really was that thorough, huh?”

“Yes… much to my chagrin, most of the time.”

She let out a remorseful sigh. “I really have missed a lot, haven’t I?” Her serious eyes met mine. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I’ll have to make it up to you, somehow.”

“Why are you apologizing? It’s not like you knew anything. I told you, Mike and Steven had to put me through some pretty rigorous testing before they were certain I was me. The people who kidnapped me made everyone, including you, believe I was dead. You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

She chuckled. “Oh, really? A gay man taught you how to use a maxi pad and you call that sufficient?”

My blush darkened. “Not really, at first, but I got the hang of it.”

“Well, honey…” She set down her empty coffee cup and leaned a little closer to me. “When we had your… funeral, I met with that lovely young woman you were so in love with. She was very much in love with you, too. We shared a lot of things together. Mostly, it was all the memories. From what she and I talked about, I would say that I succeeded in teaching you to be a gentleman. I’m glad for that.” She smiled and rubbed my cheek with her thumb. “It seems that now I have to teach you how to be a lady.”

My eyes rolled, my body fell back against the sofa, my hand smacked my forehead, and I let out a groan. “Oh, just great… as if my life couldn’t be any more complicated…”

Her only response was to giggle… hysterically.

A week passed and it seemed my life was beginning to smooth out into some semblance of a ‘normal’ routine. My mom and I continued to have our morning coffee and chat session. All the paperwork was signed, notarized, copied into Ms. Walters’ file, and sent off to some vault at the U.S. Marshal’s office. Once Agent Helligan dropped off my check from the government, my mother insisted on some “mother-daughter shopping time”. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but doing this sort of thing with my mother was really weird. Thankfully, I got to keep a few “boyish habits”–as my mother called them–because a tomboy girl was relatively acceptable. Getting fitted for some bras and shopping for underwear was awkward for both of us, thankfully. When my mother had me sitting in a makeup artist’s chair, I wanted to just hide somewhere. The lessons were going well, I guess.

Finally getting some time to myself, a thought crossed my mind. Mom had gotten me some workout clothes after she learned how important Kung Fu really was to me. Of course, she suggested I take some yoga classes, but that seemed like taking a step too far to me. My assumption that yoga was too “girly” was obviously unfounded. Still, slipping on a sports bra, some workout leggings, and an oversized, three-quarter length shirt that hung off my shoulders was comfortable enough. At the very least, I could stuff some shoes in my saddlebags while all my leathers fit on over top of the whole outfit. As I scurried through the house toward the garage, my mother spotted my outfit and insisted on tying my hair back into a ponytail. She’s gotten into a bad habit of messing with my hair every chance she got. When she was finished, I was excused.

I needed to do a workout. I needed something I knew as routine. Everything was just coming at me from all angles all at once and I was unprepared for it. Not having a computer and the internet accessible was a hindrance. Shifu never advertised online, in the newspaper, or anything. If someone trained with him, it was because they’d heard about him from another student or they lived in the neighborhood around the academy. Having been plucked from the grapevine about where to go gave me no other option than to scout the neighborhood. After slipping on my leathers and jumping on the bike, I started my search. Regrettably, I hadn’t really learned too much about the area. There was nothing but Gold’s Gym, Bally, and 24-hour Fitness in the area I lived. Fucking yuppies.

I searched the Marina District. I searched the Richmond District. I searched the Market District. I stayed away from the Castro District knowing that any gyms there would be populated by a majority of gay men and that’s not an environment I wanted to get in the way of. Stopped at a light four hours later, I spotted a run-down looking place on the eastern side of the peninsula. The building was wedged between an old dollar store and an antique mall. It looked like it had once been painted proudly in some combination of white and black tiger stripes, but all the colors had faded with age and the paint seemed to be peeling. The whole front visage had windows, but the dust had engulfed those years ago. I could barely make out the sign stenciled on the front door, but the place looked promising to my eye. I can’t explain why.

Thankfully, the place had a small parking lot across the street, so I left the bike there as I walked with my workout bag to the front entrance. From the look of the place, it was probably a good idea I left my leathers on so I looked a little tougher. Amazingly, the helmet didn’t mess up my hair too much. My mom was a genius. Stopping at the door, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It’s always jarring to enter a new gym. The current stock of regulars will always size you up like a slab of meat. I would be prepared for that. Inside, the sound of men grunting, punching various sand bags, landing on a boxing ring, and weights being lifted filled the air. Unfortunately, the smell of sweating men filled my nostrils. I tried my best to block it out. With another breath, I swung the door open and walked inside.

Off to the far left of the entrance sat a rock climbing wall. Further back from that was a free weight area. To the far right, it seemed like someone had constructed a dojo in Japan and just dropped it into the place. The center, of course, was the regulation boxing ring. The place went from the sounds of activity to a deafening silence. The men all seemed to turn around and look at me in some kind of slow motion. I could hear someone’s footsteps approaching and my eyes turned to the sound. It sounded like a rather burly man, at least.

“Welcome to the Wild Cat Gym. How can I help y…” The large man with slicked back black hair with some graying around his temples looked down at me and immediately got angry. “Oh, fuck me! Not another one!”

In all honesty, even for someone like me, the guy was intimidating. The only sign of his aging was the aforementioned gray hair. He was built like an ox. His face, though, looked like Sylvester Stallone’s if Rocky’s bouts in the ring actually showed on it. His nose was beat to hell and there was a scar that crossed over his left eye. He wore a black muscle shirt and woodland fatigues that looked like he originally bought them in the 1970’s, or something. Both his hands were wrapped in boxing tape. From the condition, it didn’t look like he ever took the tape off.

My right eyebrow rose on its own. “Excuse me? Is that how you greet all potential customers?”

He violently shook his head. “No. Not gonna happen. There are no girls allowed in my gym! You better turn around and walk that sweet little ass back out the door!”

I dropped my bag and immediately pointed an accusing finger at him. “First of all, fuck you! Second of all, I just walked through the door and suddenly I’m being harassed? Not gonna cut it, Mister! You ever heard of discrimination?!”

He seemed to puff up like a silverback gorilla preparing to charge. “Little lady, this is a fighter’s gym. I have trained some of the best boxers, wrestlers, and MMA fighters in the last three decades. I don’t train anymore. I certainly don’t train girls.”

Even though I was beyond pissed off, my eyes did lighten up a little. “Serious? A fighter’s gym? That’s just what I’m lookin’ for!”

He started laughing and half the room joined him. “Missy, I said I train fighters! You look like a god damn cheerleader. There’s no cheerleading coach here.”

A second later, my memory clicked. He was clearly hazing me. The guys at my first gym did this to me when I came looking to train. It’s all a grotesque display of masculine territorial defense and a test of mettle, to see if the “new guy” is up to the challenge. In a way, it was almost like reverse psychology except I was getting the impression this guy really didn’t like me. A cocky smirk started growing on my face.

“Fine! We’ll settle this!” My eyes darted into the main room then back up at the man. “I’ll take on any one of these pussies and make them my bitch!”

Every last one of them laughed but it was the man in front of me who continued to speak. “Are you fucking serious? These boys will murder you, girly.”

“Well, let’s see it, then! Prove it!” I was on to his little game and I think it frustrated him more. Good.

He pointed into the main room with his thumb. “You’re gonna get into that ring with one of these fighters and expect to live?”

“Fuck your bravado and put your money where your fucking mouth is, big man!”

He laughed again. “Well, it’s your funeral. There’s no ladies’ locker room. You’ll have to change in the…”

“No need.” I slipped off my jacket. “I came prepared.”

Another laugh. “Yea… prepared to hit the dance studio…” He continued laughing as he trudged down the hall. “Come on, Flash Dance.”

Reluctantly, he led me down the arrival corridor lined with trophy cases that were stuffed full of various rewards and the pictures of past legendary fighters who had won the awards. I recognized many of them, but a lot of the older ones were a mystery to me. He took himself seriously, though. That much was obvious. When we arrived in the main area, the ring dominated the space. Everyone remained silent and the ring was cleared rather quickly. He spun at me with a smirk.

“You need me to hold the ropes for you, girly?” His condescendence drizzled out the sides of his mouth.

“This isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve got it.” My glare reached him but it didn’t faze him.

Setting my jacket on top of my bag and slipping off my boots, I shimmied out of my leather pants and received a few wolf whistles from various people in the room. Ignoring them for the time being, I proceeded to wrap up my hands and wrists to avoid needlessly risking any damage to them. All truth told, I was scared out of my wits and pretty embarrassed to be in the room with these men ogling me. There was no reason to bother with my shoes, for now. Instead, I popped in my mouth protection. With effortless ease, I climbed into the ring over all three ropes. The owner huffed at me and leaned against one of the support poles in the corner.

As I stood in the ring, my eyes met… well, my eyes. Across the room and hanging on the back wall was a promotional poster of me back before all this happened to me. My muscles seemed to want to tear out of my flesh and the look on my face was the face of danger and intimidation. Now, my muscles had never been all that big–not like Mike’s, anyway–but they looked huge, compared to the me of right now. They had rubbed me down with Vaseline and then sprayed water to make it look like I was super sweaty. I looked like a total badass in that poster. With a smile growing on my lips, my nerve returned. I knew where I’d been and what I’d become. I needed this for my own sake and some dumbass man wasn’t going to take that from me.

A Hispanic man stepped into the ring. He wasn’t more than two or three inches taller than me, but he was certainly bigger. Even without the Vaseline and water, the man had beads of sweat on his skin and his muscles were clearly defined. He’d been training for a big fight, from the looks of him. All he had on were his boxing shorts and his hand wraps. My loins responded in an uncomfortable manner, but I shook my head to focus on the fight not what my crotch had in mind.

“This here is Lenny, little lady. He’s one of the biggest stars, right now.” The gym owner announced. “You beat him and I’ll let you play with the boys like some weird ass lesbian.”

Lenny smirked. “You ain’t nothin’ to me, bitch. You’re just a stepping stone.”

My eyebrows rose in unison. “Who was he training to fight, Mighty Mouse?”

“Right, smart ass. He was trainin’ to fight The Animal, before that man’s untimely death.” The owner pointed at the aforementioned poster. “That right there was the scourge of the West Coast MMA circuit and probably would have been the national champ. You ain’t in his league, but Lenny was. Good luck. If I have to call an ambulance instead of a hearse, I’ll call it a good day.”

I scoffed and glared at Lenny. “Let’s see if you really were in The Animal’s league, pipsqueak.”

“You’re dead, bitch!”

The bell sounded and we both lunged at each other.