Spring Combat Finals 2008

Kota sat beside Prairie Sun and Theresa watching the last day of combat finals. Prairie Sun had come down earlier that week to personally talk with Headmistress Carson about the enrollment of her daughter Estelle, and had decided to wait an extra week before traveling back home to Edmonton with Kota.

It was nerve wracking for Kota, despite being so happy that Prairie Sun was there, she couldn't forget how badly her first combat final had gone. Peeper had made fun of her baggy clothes, and she'd just ran away without even trying to win, not believing she could handle an actual fight. She'd gotten a C plus for how well she'd avoided the fight, but since her opponent was considered a little stronger than she was, it wasn't considered the best move. Now with the costume Prairie Sun had given her, plus a few holdouts, and the training she HAD to do better. She just wasn't sure if she actually could.

They were getting near the end of the combats, so hers would be coming up any time now and she couldn't sit still. The cityscape below looked perfect for running, even as it was being repaired after being blown up by TK blasts and mini-missiles.

The Ants finished their job and the overhead board lit up.

Code Name: TARMAC
Ratings: Manifester- 4/ Specialty: production and animation of black tar-like substance
Techniques: Goop Ball, Explosive Goop Ball, Protective Ball, Sled, Tar Armor, Tar Hammer,Tar Pit, Wall
Weak vs.: Extreme Heat/Cold
Backup/ Team affiliation: Barricade

Code Name:
Traceur
Ratings: Exemplar-2; PK-1; Regen-4
Techniques: Parkour
Weak vs.: Psychic powers, Magic
Backup/ Team affiliation: None Listed

She groaned, it was her, and she was suppose to fight Tarmac, a sophomore, who could throw tar and other stuff locking her down. Joy, they weren't going to make it easy for her.

Prairie Sun gave her arm a squeeze. “You can do it. You don't have to win, just let them know you can defend yourself and give him hell. I believe in you.”

“Thanks,” Kota said. She headed down to the gate, only to stop dead as Peeper started talking.

“Hey look it's Traceur. I wonder what oversized dumpster diving outfit she's going to wear this time as she runs away,” the little prick said.

Kota looked back to her seat hoping to get some support from Prairie Sun, but the woman wasn't there. With a sigh, she slunk towards the gate, feeling her already low confidence begin to crumble.

There was a crash from the speaker.

“Hey! Who are you? You can't be here!” Peeper said.

Someone spoke just quietly enough to be heard without actually being understandable. There was a little eep and Peeper was speaking again. “I'd like to apologize to Traceur, and every other girl on campus. I'm just a little... boy, who wasn't taught manners by his mommy. And I have a-” there was more whispering, “I have an inferiority complex because of how small I am... down there. I'm going to turn the mic over to my-” whisper, “my good friend Greasy until I learn how to act like a decent human being.”

There was laughter, clapping and cheering from the entire audience. Straightening her shoulders, Kota walked on with an actual smile on her face.

At the gate she reached down and undid the concealed seals on her pants, pulling most of the pant legs off, then rolled down the thin Kevra sleeves on her undershirt, which was hidden by her baggy shirt. Reaching into an inner pocket of her pants, she took out a mask, pulling it over her head, covering her hair and everything above her nose. Her long hair was rolled up and put into a pouch on the back where it couldn't be pulled and used against her. Then the edges of the mask hooked onto the undershirt sealing it up tightly. The entire process took about a minute, and she was wearing cut off shorts, that broke up the lines of her hips a loose black t-shirt and a body suit in grey and black that acted as light armour. Around her legs were thin, armoured pouches for her holdouts, not as easy as other methods to grab from, but there was almost no chance they snag or get caught on something. As Prairie Sun had said it was all about trade offs.

The combat finals were fairly simple, they had to catch a person who was trying to avoid being caught, you lost points if the target was killed, but anything could be used, including asking for help from police, screaming that the target had tried to kidnap you so bigger and stronger Ants tried to catch him, or hitting him with a car. The technician at the gate gave her a picture of the target, he was a tall man wearing a denim jacket and ripped jeans.

The gate opened, and Kota ran inside, heading for a fire escape to get a better look at the arena. She saw a large boy covered in tar walking down the street. She remembered hearing that in his first combat finals, he'd been tricked and confused by a girl crying her eyes out. From the looks of things, he wasn't going to fall for the same trick again. Not that she had any intention of crying.

Taking out a pair of tiny binoculars that easily fit into the palm of her hand, she searched for the target. Not seeing him, she jumped down the side of the building, catching herself on window ledges as she went down, using her PK field to soften the impact on her hands and legs. Grabbing a canister that was a little bigger than her thumb, she ran down the street, looking for a convenient building to use as a lookout point.

Just when she spotted a good one, there was a yell of triumph. Kota reacted instantly by jumping over a moving car and into the middle of the street, a car mirror clipped her thigh. She ignored the pain which wasn't that bad thanks to her costume, and dodged around some more traffic as balls of tar exploded just behind her. Throwing down the canister, the area was enveloped in thick smoke, giving her a few seconds to get away, running confidently with her regeneration having already fixed the bruise. Ignoring the screeching of brakes, and screams of the Ants, she got out of sight, climbing up a drain pipe to the top of a building.

Peering over the side, she watched Tarmac stepping out of the smoke, coughing and waving his hand in front of his face.

Taking a ball, about the size of a baseball, out of a pocket that shouldn't be able to hold it, Kota lined up and threw it to land a yard away from the boy. He saw it at the last second, raising a wall of tar to protect himself. The flashbang went off, causing Tarmac to shake his head and bang on his ears from the noise, but he wasn't blinded. Kota ran to the far edge of the building while gobs of tar fell from the sky like mortars. The next building was just close enough that she should be able to jump it, not slowing down she threw herself over the side, even with her PK giving her a small push she barely made it.

Her left foot hit the side of the building, sending her tumbling along the roof. Gasping in pain, she knew her toes were broken, to say nothing of the bruises all along her body. Controlling her breathing, she waited the few moments for her body to heal.

There was no sign of Tarmac, so she took out her binoculars again and looked for the target. She couldn't hope to beat the other student so she just had to beat him to the target. She saw the Ant walking along the street, a baseball bat over his shoulder. Jumping to a street light beside the building, Kota was on the ground in seconds, running towards the man.

She was almost on top of the man, dodging and weaving between Ants, benches, bicycles and cars, just in case Tarmac saw her and tried anything. Slowing for a second to pull another holdout which Prairie Sun had said was a knockout gas, she allowed herself a small smile of triumph reaching out to wrap her arms around the targets neck.

The baseball bat moved almost faster than she could see, slamming into her gut, folding her over the hard wood. The target, still holding his bat took off running, leaving Kota kneeling on the ground struggling to breathe and not throw up all over herself.

Tarmac came storming out from a street just in front of her, not even seeming to notice that she was within in spitting distance and practically helpless. Forcing herself to her feet, stretching out the cramp that was quickly easing, Kota ran after the two guys. Grabbing another smoke bomb, she quickly caught up to Tarmac.

“Yo Tar Boy!” she yelled from right behind him.

He turned, a startled look on his face, probably because he hadn't thought she'd get so close to him. Pressing a button on the bomb, Kota threw it against his chest where it stuck and jets of smoke erupted from it.

Not pausing to enjoy the victory, she ducked and dodged the tar balls which were exploding all around her, capturing and coating Ants, cars, and almost everything else. Her back and sides were speckled black, with some fist size clumps of tar clinging to her, but nothing that could really slow her down. The target wasn't that far ahead, taking out another flashbang, Kota threw it as hard as she could. It landed and rolled under his feet, exploding practically under him.

Cheering for herself, she ran up pulling out some zip ties. Her knee was on the dazed man's back, when a wave of tar covered everything for several yards around her, including herself and the target. Fortunately her face was away from Tarmac, so she cold still breath, but moving was almost impossible.

Tarmac came over, smoke was coming out of his back, and his tar armour bulged strangely, like it was breathing heavily, or there were worms under it.

Grabbing the target, the boy wrapped the ant in even more tar. The bell rang declaring him the winner.

His tar armour disappeared from most of his face, just leaving the eyes covered, revealing a big grin, Waving his hand the tar around Kota moved off of her, leaving her sticky, black, but able to move. “Let your clothes soak in really soapy water overnight, and then wash them with a bit of bleach. It will come clean. Good fight.” He held his hand out to help her up.

“Thanks,” she muttered, taking his hand.

He shrugged and they walked together silently to the nearest gate which was open and waiting for them.

Prairie Sun was waiting for her at the gate, she had somehow gotten a sheet and wrapped it around Kota's shoulders before giving her a hug. “You did great out there.”

“I still lost,” feeling the depression she still sometimes suffered from coming back.

“You put up a good fight, and almost won against a more powerful opponent. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” Sun turned to look at Gunny Bardue, “Any idea what Traceur is going to get?”

“I'll need to ask Mr. Anderson, but I'd say a pretty solid B,” the big guy said.

“See,” Prairie Sun said, giving her another hug, “you improved. I'll work with you over the summer, and next term you'll kick their asses.”

Kota finally returned the hug. “You think I can?”

“Yeah I do.”

She smiled and felt her confidence rising. “Ok, I'll do it,” she said.

Sun stepped back, and wiped some tar off of her cheek. “Now let's get you to a shower, you REALLY need it.”

Holding the hero's hand, Kota walked to her cottage, her head held high.

**

Moose Lake, Alberta
Last Day of School

It was the last evening at school and everyone was getting excited about going home the next morning, and a little teary eyed at leaving their friends for the entire summer. I was getting butterflies, since I wasn't coming back, and it was my last official day as a girl. I really wished that Mom would be there to pick me up that evening, but she'd had some business at Whateley, so it was just Dad and I.

I'd already said goodbye to all the girls who still talked to me, and the teachers who hadn't been jerks. So it was just my close friends and I relaxing in the warm evening sitting around a stone table. Something had been bothering me for a while and I decided to get the answer while I still could.

“Tammy, what happened?” I asked. “You seem to hate heroes, but you've been really nice to me ever since you found out I was a mutant and my parents are superheroes.”

“You're not grandstanding,” she said. At my look of confusion, she explained, “Most heroes, including your parents, want everyone to know how great they are, and get upset if people don't say how amazing they are. You kept quiet, you haven't shown off, and the only thing you've demanded is to have your familiar with you. I like that.”

“Oh,” was all I could think of to say. I didn't think my parents demanded people pay attention to them, but I could see what she was saying. “Thanks. I'm going to miss you now. I'm going to miss all of you,” I said, feeling the tears start to well up.

As I hugged my friends, I wondered if I'd be able to talk so freely and show my emotions like this around boys.

**

After a final goodbye to my friends the next morning, I and my body guards met Dad in the parking lot. “Dad!” I shouted, running up to hug him.

While I didn't press my face and body against him, not very hard anyways, my hands pressed right against his back. And his own hands grabbed me right back. The cybernetic interface that let me touch my parents had been added to my right hand as well, and Dad had the same thing on his natural hand. However the curse worked, we could feel each other normally with the gloves and our hands felt almost normal to the person we were touching. Mom had the same treatment given to her, although with her regeneration, it had taken longer to get it working properly. Dr. Sharpe had talked about giving us a whole body suit, but that was a little too risky to try. We'd settle for just being able to touch each other with our hands.

Dr. Sharpe figured that the reason other attempts at bypassing the curse with cybernetic sensors was that they hadn't gone far enough. The previous attempts had just gone a millimeter under the skin. But with what Dad and I had to use was much deeper, and connected more firmly with our nervous system. So the curse was almost literally skin deep, and we hadn't been desperate enough to cut into ourselves quite the deeply.

So we'd gone from not touching each other, to pats on the back, hugs, holding hands, and touching hair, cheeks, and fixing clothes. It probably looked a little odd, how often we did it actually, but we had to make up for fourteen years worth of not touching.

“Are you ready for this?” Dad asked as we loaded my things into our SUV.

“No,” I said, letting a little whimper come out.

“Tough, can't back out now, I've already planned everything,” he said, messing up my hair.

“I'm still not a boy, I reserve the right to cry at least five times today.”

He nodded. “Ok, but not one time more.”

“No deal.”

We drove away from the school for the last time, and I tried to prepare myself for the future.

**

“So what style do you want honey?” the stylist asked.

I pulled a picture out of my purse. It was a guys haircut, but it was a little long, had some nice volume and waves to it, I thought it would look ok, especially now that my hair was dark brown again. “I'd like this, please,” I said, fighting back tears.

I'd expected her to tell me not to, that it was a guys hairstyle, but she just said ok, and got to work. I guess that Dad told her not to make it harder on me when he set up the appointment. When the first of my hair, which hung past my shoulders was cut to just a little above the nape of my neck, the tears came.

The stylist handed me some tissue, and kept cutting. By this point my face looked androgynous, my chin was more prominent, my nose bigger, my face a little longer and broader, everything was a bit more angular rather than rounded. Not excessively but enough to notice, in my regular clothes people would still say I was a girl.

As my hair was cut, I leaned more towards the male side than the female. I didn't lose it, but I was biting my lip and my nails were digging deep into my palms. Beetle who was invisible, sat on my lap under the sheet licking my hand, letting me know everything was ok. When my hair was cut I looked like a very masculine girl with A-cup breasts. I thanked the stylist for doing a good job and walked with Dad to the bathrooms where I went into the large single bathroom for families.

I took off my blouse and pulled out a tenser bandage. I'd been practicing for a while so I was able to bind what was left of my breasts pretty quickly. With my widening waist and shrinking hips, I looked like a thin, feminine boy now. A blue dress shirt, just a little loose, black boy jeans, with a thin belt and black shoes, finished the look. My blouse, slacks, heels, and bra went into my bag for the last time. Looking in the mirror, I'd be mistaken for a twelve or thirteen year old boy just starting puberty.

Slipping on a large metal watch, which would give me a shock to charge me up if I needed it, and I was ready to go. Looking at myself in the mirror, I didn't recognize myself. “Bye Estelle, it was nice knowing you,” I whispered.

Stepping out, I looked shyly at Dad. “How do I look?”

“Very handsome, El,” he said.

I refused to cry, no matter how much I wanted to. “Let's go get some clothes.”

Putting his hand on my shoulder we headed for the clothes stores. I needed an entirely new wardrobe, since everything I'd ever owned, would look silly on me now. It was time to see how the other side lived.