Marked Target ~ Chapter Seven ~ 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: The pace slows down a bit as Lex tries to find where she fits in the world. She gets a little advice from the fellow Posse members. Valentine's Day, however, takes its toll on her. Although, she catches the eye of a certain hero. Is it good news or bad news for our "juvenile" delinquent?

---

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, and Dr. Henry Philip “Hank” McCoy, Beast, are trademarks of Marvel Comics. Posse and all associated members are trademarks of Detective Comics. All rights reserved. The pic, this time, has been brought to you by the lovely talents of Alina Urusov.

Author's Note :: This one's a little slower paced, but I'm really happy with the character development in it. Thanks to my beta readers, Lilith, and EnemyofFun for our lovely guest star in this chapter.

Congratulations -- Donjo and Misty Meenor are the two that caught my obscure little reference to Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog in Chapter Six and won the chance to beta-read this chapter. Their input has been invaluable. This little Whedonista thanks you kindly. ;)

---

Chapter Seven:

The next month seemed to fly by like the world was standing still. Damper, obviously the leader of the band, got the other guys in gear and sectioned off a room for me. They used some metal crates that were almost everywhere in the place. They used a piece of ruffled sheet metal as the roof, given that some of the glass roof had been broken out. It still rains during a San Francisco winter, but not nearly as much as one in Seattle. It’s mostly just cold and really foggy. So, I had my own little six-by-eight-foot “room” with an old army cot inside I used for a bed. My duffel bag got thrown into a corner and I pretty much lived out of it. Probe gave me some blankets without saying a word and Bonita saw fit to give me a teddy bear. I have to admit, snuggling that thing in my sleep actually kept me from having any nightmares. Weird, isn’t it?

Over time, the whole group warmed up to me and I began to feel like I belonged. I hadn’t felt that in a long time. Bonita was the most girly of the three candidates. She tried giving me advice on clothes, how to do my hair, and even tried to pressure me into the whole makeup thing. I wasn’t having it, but I had to admire her tenacity. Probe was the quiet one. She didn’t say much more than two sentences in any given day. Esteban was kind of the stoic older brother. Like Probe, he was very laconic, but he was one hell of a good cook. Scour was always passing jokes and trying to get somebody to join him in an old school SNL marathon on VHS. He and I had good laughs at the expense of young versions of Chevy Chase, Dan Aykroyd, and Steve Martin. Thumper was always tenacious in his attempt to get into my pants. I even had to pull the claws out on him, once. He nearly wet himself, but he kept trying. Damper kept everyone in line and was always hatching some grand scheme or another to get us food, booze, money, or any combination thereof.

Given what happened to me, I couldn’t help trying to fathom what they all looked like before they got their powers. The thought was fleeting, though. Not even an overactive imagination could envision them as anything other than what they were, now. That was something of a revelation for me.

There was one hitch in the works that I found out pretty early: It’s almost impossible for me to get drunk, now. That became apparent when I had drunk all of them “under the table” and still didn’t even feel buzzed, yet. It had to be something like the gas when I had been held captive. I began to conjecture that it must somehow be tied to my healing ability, but I didn’t really know how that all worked. Suffice to say, it would take about as much alcohol as we could pull from a single liquor store heist to maybe get me at least buzzed. That was kind of a bummer.

As gangs go, Posse was pretty low-key and small potatoes. We didn’t rustle too many feathers, didn’t engage in gang wars, and didn’t do much more than petty theft. Sure, we knocked over a liquor store now and then or defended our territory once in a while, but we were content to stay in the shadows. It kept us pretty much away from the attention of the police, for the most part. None of us really used our powers all that much, either. I mean, Damper would use his invisibility to help us run off with a lot of liquor, Thumper would be the one that carried most of it, and I used my claws as leverage in turf disputes, but that was about it. We were all aware that each of us could do a little more than we used most often, but it was never a necessity.

You know what I missed the most? Regular showers and clean laundry. Living in an old warehouse had more than a few setbacks. It wasn’t like living in a bed of roses, either. Bonita, Probe, and I would go down to the free clothing boxes, occasionally, or Bonita would offer to do my laundry at any number of drop-in centers across town. However, I began to familiarize myself with the raw scent difference between males and females. My biology professor would have chalked it up to differentiating pH levels and pheromones, but I wasn’t really sure. I just knew there was a very real difference between a woman who needed a shower and a man who needed one. After a while, I didn’t even have to open my eyes and I could tell you who was who by scent alone. That was a little creepy, but an education, nonetheless.

They were all in awe when I would step out into the big open space of the Hacienda and begin running through my taolu. I made it a point to do that every morning. There was no way I was going to allow myself to get rusty, at all. Thumper, Esteban, and Damper asked me to teach it to them so they could really bust some heads. However, their motivations were not where they should be, so I flat out refused. Study of the martial arts is about discipline, dedication, and self-defense–not who can beat the other guy up in a cooler-looking way. Regardless, there were many mornings where I had an audience. Most of the time, it was just Thumper, but other times all of them would just sit by and watch me. My conjecture was that they had seen one too many Kung Fu movies and had never actually seen anyone perform the real thing before. That likely explained their fascination.

One morning, I woke up in my little hovel of a room and felt like a train wreck. Even without a clock or a calendar, I knew exactly what day it was: Valentine’s Day. I could hear Damper and Bonita whispering sweet nothings to each other up in their room, the former foreman’s office, while the baby made her cute little noises in her crib. I could feel the tears start to well up in my eyes, but fought them back. Slipping out from underneath the blankets, I knew I was never going to get used to the effect the cold February air was having on my nipples. The things were so erect that they could probably cut glass. Annoying as it was, I ripped off my Punisher T-shirt, standing in just my panties as I glanced at where my yoga gear had gotten off to. Searching through the pile of clothes next to my duffel bag with all that exposed skin sent a shiver through my entire body. Needless to say, I dressed quickly and added these slipper-sock things that Bonita had given me to wear in lieu of shoes.

Trudging out into the warehouse gave me another shiver, but I knew that once I got into the taolu the cold wouldn’t phase me any longer. Strangely, nobody else was around this morning. Setting my body into the beginning stance, I closed my eyes and focused my breathing. In moments, the world disappeared around me. Nothing else mattered besides putting my body in the exact movements of the taolu. After about an hour, those were all finished. So, I bowed to no one in particular and began running through the stretches that Jenn had taught me. Bending forward and kissing my knees, I could hear someone approaching from the “living room”. One sniff of the air and I knew exactly who it was.

“Buenos dá­as, Talon.” He quietly greeted.

“Good morning, Esteban.” Came my somewhat muffled reply.

“You’re up early. Already done with your moves?”

Lifting up, I nodded. “Yea.” My eyes met his. “You’re talkative, this morning. What’s up?”

He thumbed behind him toward the Damper and Bonita’s room. “They get loud, sometimes.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Really? You, the chica who hears everything? No way.”

Another shrug. “I was focused. Sometimes, if you’re focused enough on the task at hand, the world around you suddenly doesn’t exist, anymore. It’s like meditation, but you’re moving.”

He nodded. “I think I get it.” He seemed a little somber.

Heck, so was I. A sigh escaped my lips. “Too bad I can’t sleep through until tomorrow.”

He sighed, too, his eyebrows raised. “Me too. For some, it’s a good day. For others…”

“It’s torture.” I finished his sentence. Seemingly of their own volition, my legs bent and brought my knees to my chest. I wrapped my arms around them and lay my chin on my knees. A little water built up in my eyes.

Noticing this, he moved and sat down in front of me. “Something you wanna talk about?”

There was no barrier between my mind and my mouth. The words just poured from me. I spoke as though I were eighty years old and talking about “the good ol’ days”. “You know, before all this, I had a pretty good life. I made video games for a living. It brought in good money. I had a nice apartment.” I choked back a sob. “Best of all, I had the best woman in the world.”

He nodded. “We all get like that, I think.”

Tears and all, I looked him right in the eyes. “I haven’t told anybody this, but… you know who I was before? I was ‘The Animal’ McKinley.”

His eyes got really big. “Wait… you was that big, buff fighter guy? I think I saw you on the TV, when it still worked! You were amazing in ‘the Octagon’!”

More tears built up and one rolled down my cheek. Sniffling, I continued. “I had just about everything I could ever ask for. Then, one night, it all got snatched away.” A sob I couldn’t stop erupted. “My girl, Julia, wouldn’t have anything to do with me when I finally saw her, again.”

He slid over and wrapped an arm over my shoulders, trying to be comforting. “Okay. You told me yours. It’s only fair that I tell, right?” I’m sure he could feel me shrug. “I didn’t have everything I wanted. Actually, I had nothing I wanted. When I was a kid, my dad… mi Papá¡… with him, I could do no wrong.” With him not facing me, I didn’t see the smirk. “I was his ‘la niá±a del papá¡’.”

Understanding the similarities between Spanish and French, my head shot up with my eyes as big as dinner plates. “Wait… you mean…?”

He nodded. “Sá­, I was ‘Daddy’s Little Girl’. I was the only girl born to our family. Mamá¡ had two boys before me and two after. For my First Communion, they were so proud. I looked like a little bride.” He winked at me. “You should have seen my quincenera dress! I put Princess Diana to shame!” He actually laughed. “Abuelita, my grandmother, spent two months sewing it and getting it sized right.” For the first time ever, he looked down my top. “I was bigger than you, Talon.”

I blushed, covering any visible cleavage with one dainty hand. “I dunno. These puppies seem huge to me.”

He shook his head. “Not really. Average, I think. The women in mi familia were all bigger in the chest and the hips. Think about those gringas Betty Paige and Marilyn Monroe. That’s what all the girls in my family looked like. My booty would have made J-Lo jealous.” He let out a sigh. “So, I got into all that ‘girly’ stuff, y’know? I did the dresses, the cooking, the dances, the makeup, and all that. I was even a cheerleader and on the dance team in high school. Abuelita would always drag me into the kitchen, telling me ‘You can’t catch a man if you can’t cook, chica!’. She taught me everything I know.”

My heart sank for him. So, this whole change thing worked both ways? That was a pretty jagged pill to swallow. “Remind me to thank your Abuelita if I ever meet her. I’ve never had real Mexican food, before. You’re really good with it.”

“Gracias. You won’t meet her, though. One bad thing to being a woman: the men in your life take advantage of your love to do terrible things.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I was in college. Mamá¡ was so proud because I was the first in college and a woman. I fell for this cholo ‘bad boy’ and he got me mixed in with the wrong people. We went to parties, we drank a lot, we did drugs, and he had me dressing like a slut. When we ran out of money for things, I dropped out of college and became a puta, a hooker. He and two friends ganged up on me one night. I said ‘no’, but they wouldn’t stop. Then…”

“Then, you changed.” Finishing his sentence, I sighed.

He slowly nodded. “Sá­, I started growing and getting big. Something filled in my panties and I got hairy. They stood back and watched. I hated watching my breasts disappear. Those were my pride. I looked like a bad cross-dresser, y’know? Then, they beat me so bad that I had to go to the hospital. When I was there, my family came in and disowned me right there. Papá¡ told them he had four sons and shouted ‘ ¿Dá³nde está¡ mi hija? — Where is my daughter?’. Mamá¡ sat in the corner and repeated ‘Quiero que mi niá±a volviá³ a má­. — I want my little girl back’ a few times. It was the worst night of my life.” I could see a single tear fall down his cheek.

Several tears fell down my own face. It was difficult listening to such an account. “That’s why you’re so quiet?” He nodded. “Esteban, I’d trade places with you, if we could.”

He chuckled. “You can keep the periods, though. Those, I don’t miss so much.”

We shared a really good laugh–therapeutic, even.

Sniffling, I wiped tears from my eyes and off my face. “Thanks for sharing, Esteban.”

“De nada, Talon. All of us got bad breaks. That’s why we gotta stick together, y’know?”

“Yea, I get it.” A realization came to my mind. “You know, I haven’t even seen my family or called them since this all happened.” A shiver traveled the length of my spine. “I know my father wouldn’t like it. He’s an asshole. He used to call me ‘fag’ when I was a kid. I dunno about my mom, though. She’s a hard one to read.”

“You might be better off not knowing.”

“You’re probably right.” I started moving to stand.

He was on his feet before I realized it and held his hands out to me. At first, I looked at him quizzically, but his smile reassured me. I gave him my hands and he helped me to my feet. The inertia created by the action kept my body moving, even after I stood up. My body gently collided with his, sending a sensation through me that was incredibly foreign. A tingling sensation spread all over the surface of my skin and it seemed like my body rose in temperature a degree or two. I could feel my face flush. He was a little taller than I used to be, so I had to look up at him. My expression was one of confusion and something else I couldn’t describe. As my eyes met his, my nipples stiffened.

He leaned forward and gently kissed my forehead. “We’ll talk again, soon, chica.” Then, he simply walked away.

What the hell was wrong with me?

A couple hours later, I was fully dressed in a black-and-white “convict” stripe tank top, my trusty bondage pants, the hoodie with Jack Skellington’s face on the back, and my boots that didn’t have blade-claw holes in them. Esteban made some delicious breakfast burritos and we all ate like we hadn’t done so in weeks. Almost embarrassingly, I had finished mine first, so I was conscripted into feeding Alina a bottle of stored breast milk while Bonita ate her breakfast. In the past month, helping her take care of the baby didn’t bother me so much. It was weird that I was something of a natural, though. Maybe, it was my new body’s instincts? Honestly, it frightened me if I thought about it for more than half a second.

Maybe it was a bit of the “old me” bubbling up to the surface? I mean, there were certainly fantasies about motherhood and babies during my childhood. Unfortunately, a mountain of denial and reality had squashed them. Males lack the ability to incubate a fetus and deliver the baby in any imaginable way. The same fate lay waiting even for transsexual women. Hormones and surgery can do wonders to the body, but they can’t give you a uterus. The technology just wasn’t there. So, even if I had any inclination towards transition, I still wouldn’t be able to bear my own children. Now, I had all the equipment necessary for fetal incubation, vaginally delivered birth, and nurture of the child, once born–made evident by the fact I now required a steady supply of maxi pads and even tampons (which I have yet to use) while sporting a pair of mammary glands that the male of the species tended to stare at.

That train of thought left the station as soon as my eyes landed on Bonita and Damper on the couch. They’d finished breakfast and were checking each other’s tonsils for infection, with their tongues. As I watched them, the memory of that night after winning the chance at the semi-finals bounced around in my brain pan. Julia had straddled me to dab hydrogen peroxide on my cut lip. Soon, it evolved into a make out session right there on our living room couch. My lip stung like a needle was being driven through it every time our lips touched, but the taste of her lips alleviated the pain effectively. I remember caressing the soft flesh of her supple thighs with my big hands and the sensation of her gently rocking hips across the tops of my own thighs.

The strangest sensation came over me. That same tingling sensation danced over every inch of my skin, again, and my nipples stiffened against the fabric of my bra. My entire body seemed to rise a couple of degrees in temperature. Beyond that, I firmly held my legs together and flexed my quadriceps. Out of nowhere, there was this… hunger… in my groin for something I just couldn’t describe. It threw me through a loop because this was an experience I’d not had, yet. At that moment, I couldn’t begin to tell you what it was. I know now, but I was in the dark then.

Without realizing it, my eyes picked a spot in the distance and just stayed there while thoughts played out in my head. What brought me back to reality was an odd squeezing sensation on my left breast. A wave of pleasure shot through my body and ran down my spine. Letting out a yelp, I looked down. My right arm had gone limp, dislodging the bottle from Alina’s mouth. Being a resourceful baby, she had turned her head and went for the next best thing: straight to the source. First of all, she wasn’t going to get anything with my tank top and bra in the way. That didn’t stop her from nipping at my breast and making a really good pursuit of the milk she wanted. I arched my back in a way that pulled my chest away from her mouth.

“Hey, baby girl! Sorry, but you’re gonna be disappointed if you go there. I’ve got nothing for ya.” I cooed at the little darling.

Bonita and Damper stopped trying to suck each other’s faces off. Bonita’s eyes shot directly at her daughter. There was a second’s pause before the whole room burst into laughter and I blushed in embarrassment. The blonde girl stood, crossed over to me, and relieved me of baby duty.

“Sorry, Bonita. My brain just went somewhere and Alina decided she’d try her luck with me.” Still blushing.

Bonita giggled. “Babies are like that, I guess. I’ve got her, now, Talon. You’re free.”

Thumper scoffed. “Now, that ain’t right! I been tryin’ for a month and the baby gets to second base? That shit is whack!”

It didn’t take much to ignore him. I was getting pretty good at it. The others joined in laughing at his expense. As I stood up, my brain reminded me of what day it was.

Last year, I was locked up as some freak show experiment and was drugged into unconsciousness, so I don’t even remember the day. The year before that, Julia and I had dinner at the Space Needle. The reservation had been booked while I was dating another girl over the summer, but it seemed perfect when I met Julia. She was dressed to the nines in her gorgeous blue evening gown and these silver heels that made her legs look amazing. As if by miracle, she had gotten me to wear a three-piece suit. Dinner was a very romantic candle-lit affair and afterwards I surprised her with the fact that I knew how to waltz. My mother insisted on teaching me before I went into high school. Our lovemaking that night was the icing on the cake. The passion was so amazing that we actually fogged up the windows in my bedroom. Six months later, it became our bedroom.

The memory of that night and our relationship together brought tears to my eyes, now. Wonderful, I was crying again. Had it really been two years? There was a gentle tug on my right arm and I followed the request without much thought. Once rounding the corner and away from the others, my chin was lifted to look up at Damper. There was understanding in his eyes and a warm smile on his face.

“Looks like you could use a break.” He stated, softly.

Sniffling, I pulled away from him. “No, I’m fine.”

“I’d be a shitty ass leader if I believe that bullshit. I can tell when my people are hurting. Talon, you got a wound that ain’t healed and today ain’t gonna make it better. What’re you gonna do when Bonita and me are all up in each other’s shit all day?” He shook his head and sighed. “Take a break, Talon.” His head nudged toward the door. “Go out there and do what you gotta do, then come back when you’re ready.”

“What are you saying?”

He scoffed. “Look, I don’t give a fuck what you do. Go get high! Go get drunk! Dance a motha-fuckin’ jig on the Golden Gate! It don’t matter!” Another sigh. “We ain’t doin’ nothin’ today. Besides, I can’t use you when you’re like this.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out some money. “Here’s five bucks to get you started. Just a warning: you’re alone so don’t do nothin’ stupid, a-right? We cool with Blue Beetle. She’s our girl. We ain’t cool with Green Arrow, though. Even with your shit, that girl will chew you up and spit you out. Dig?”

As he placed the wadded up cash in my palm and closed my fingers around it, I gave him a nod. “Thanks, Damper.”

“Now, get the fuck outta here. You crampin’ my style.” He smirked.

“Fuck you, too.” I returned his sarcasm.

Okay, so I knocked over a liquor store by myself. Sue me? The place wasn’t going to be open, officially, for another two hours. Impatience got the better of me. Using my claws, the flimsy iron gate was no match for a good swipe. After that, I put my fist through the glass door. It only hurt for a moment and I wouldn’t have to worry about the glass cuts very long. The alarm started blaring in my ears the moment the glass shattered. I only had a few minutes. Grabbing a reusable grocery bag, I made my way further into the store. Into the bag went two quarts of vodka, a bottle of Buttershots, some Crown Royal, and some rum for good measure. Finished “shopping”, I dropped the five-dollar bill on the counter before heading back out the door again. At least, I tried to pay for all that liquor.

I zigged and zagged my way through the city and away from the store. The police would be on the scene very soon and I really didn’t want to spend the day in a jail cell. With my luck and the way I looked, they’d probably feel more inclined to stick me in Juvenile Hall rather than actual jail. The prospect was a little insulting. After another hour, I felt safe enough to duck into an alley and begin my libations. If anyone came along and decided to scold me that it was too early in the day to start drinking, they’d find themselves in the hospital.

For the most part, the sounds of the city didn’t even register. My resolve was to lose myself in my own little world and drown my troubles. I was going to get drunk. Beginning with what I determined to be the bottle with the lowest alcohol content, I would move through each bottle up to the highest perceived alcohol content. In the first half-hour, gone were the rum, the Buttershots, and the Crown Royal. For good or ill, I wasn’t feeling a thing. With a frown, I opened the first bottle of vodka. By now, I’d gotten used to the harsh burn in my throat as the liquid washed down my esophagus. About halfway through the bottle, I heard a sound of boots on the rooftop across from me. Normally, this would have struck me as odd, but I chose to ignore it and take another big swig of the vodka.

“It's awfully early in the day for a girl your age to be drinking so much. Bad day?” A female voice echoed through the alleyway.

My eyes darted up and down the alley. There was no one else around. Must be talking to me. “Downright shitty, actually. Why do you care?”

“You’re a girl my age and that's a lot of booze.”

“I’ll be twenty-eight in a few months. Look, can I just attempt to get drunk in peace?”

“Attempt? I’m surprised you’re not unconscious!”

“Long story. Now, if you don’t mind…” I lifted the bottle to my lips and took another large gulp. I had to wince through the burn, though. Something impacted the bottle and it burst, spilling its contents into my lap. “Hey, now that’s alcohol abuse!”

Glancing over at the offending object, the only thing my eyes caught sight of was a green shafted, metal-tipped arrow. Needless to say, that really didn’t bode well. As my wide eyes focused on the arrow, there was an impact of a pair of boots onto the cement of the alley. My head slowly turned toward the sound. First, my eyes came upon a pair of green, flat-heeled boots that reached up to her knees. Then, the full-body black suit that hugged her every curve and muscle form. On her chest, it seemed an upward-pointing green arrow had been screen-printed onto the bodysuit. Metallic green armguards adorned her wrists. Over her shoulders, there was a green cloak that reached to the level of her knees and had a hood she wore over her head. She wore a black, double triangle mask over her eyes and a single tuft of blond hair blew in the wind beyond the confines of her hood. With the bow and quiver of arrows strapped to her back, there’s really only one personage that could be standing before me.

“Oh crap…” My voice surrendered. Standing ten feet in front of me was Green Arrow, herself.

She smirked at me. “Guilty conscience?”

“Um… well…” I stammered.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Well, under age drinking and the fact you’re not in school can have that effect on a girl. Care to explain?”

Being star-struck has major disadvantages. For me, my words and voice were failing me. Also, considering that I’d just knocked over a liquor store, my nerves were on edge. No matter how hard I tried, a response just wouldn’t come. Strangely, she tilted her head to the side.

“You sure, Speedy?” She seemed to be listening, then glanced back at me. “Got it.” Her eyes narrowed on me. “So, how long have you been here drinking?”

My brain had the answer immediately. It took a few moments for the rest of me to catch up. “Um… about an hour or so?”

“So, is it coincidence that someone matching your description broke into and robbed a liquor store in that timeframe?” She cocked her head to the side, slightly. “Did you leave five bucks on the counter?”

Admittedly, it probably wasn’t the best plan to get annoyed with the superhero right in front of me. “Well, we can’t all be Miss Olivia Queen, now can we? With uncontrollable inflation for the past twenty-odd years, that’s probably all the stuff is really worth.” I spun around. “Just cuff me and get it over with.”

“What’s your name?”

“Talon.”

“No, I mean your real name.”

“That is my real name. I don’t have another one.”

“And why not?”

I took a deep breath. “Because I, technically, don’t exist. Are you going to cuff me, now?”

“You don’t have parents?”

“That’s a long story I really don’t feel like going into, right now. Suffice to say, I’m dead to them, okay?”

“So, you’re a runaway? Homeless?”

With a sarcastic expression on my face, I finally turned to face her, again. “How can I be a runaway when I’m fully emancipated because I reached the legal age of adulthood almost a decade ago?” I shrugged. “That last part… you pegged me. Though, can’t complain too much. At least, I have my own room.”

She balked at that. “You do?”

“Yea… I’m with Posse.” It was dumb to reveal that. Her eyes narrowed on me and she nocked an arrow faster than I’d seen anyone accomplish the task. I threw my hands up in surrender. “Whoa! Whoa! It’s not like that! It’s the only safe place I could get!”

“There’s plenty of shelters in this city.”

“You remember that part where I technically don’t exist? No identification… of any kind.”

“So, you run with Posse? They only admit Metas into their ranks.”

It was my turn to smirk. “Yea, I know that.”

“You’re meta?”

My head lowered. “Yes, I am.”

She lowered her bow. “There are ways for Metas to get identification.”

I scoffed. “And deal with the government? No thanks. It’s better for me to stay under the radar. There are some powerful people that are after me. Not only that… there was… a situation… back home.” Not really trusting her, there was no way I was going to reveal what happened back in Seattle. I’d spent six months in a jail cell and really wasn’t looking forward to going back.

She didn’t say anything for a few minutes. It made me more than a little nervous. Then, a half smile graced her face. “I’ve got some friends in high places. We can double-check your story. If you’re lying to me, I’ll hand you over to SFPD. Deal?”

My mind reviewed her proposal. Did I need help? Probably. Did I trust her? Absolutely not. For all intents and purposes, I was a criminal and she was the caped crusader. This would not go well for me. However, half of my problem was because I didn’t exist. I needed help. I needed answers. Then, it clicked. Automatically, my hand reached into my back pocket and pulled out a small three-by-five-inch card and held it out for her to take.

“Someone who helped me, against all odds, gave me this. I trust her judgment.”

After returning her arrow to the quiver and switching which hand she held the bow in, she took the card, reading it over. An expression of surprise graced her face. “Professor McCoy? Why would she give you his card from the university?”

“She told me that if I wanted answers then I should go see him.”

She spun around and started walking down the alley, still focused on the card. “Come with me.”

For a few moments, I didn’t honor the request. Instead, I just stood there, dumfounded. I had no idea what she was asking me to do, really.

She spun back to me. “Are you coming, or what?” She went to take a step, then turned back to me. “Leave the booze.” Then, she continued on her way.

Slowly, I started following this superhero with the odd requests.