Masks XXV: A Conflict of Expectations

by

Rodford Edmiston

Part One

"You feeling all right?" said Mesa, noticing his team leader working her shoulder, as the third - and junior - member of their group watched silently.

"Just pulled something in my workout this morning," said Steel Lace, with a wince which he could see through her armored veil.

He nodded, and said nothing, but kept watching her. She was only a few years older than him, but he was a physical super, and had to be in good shape. As a gadgeteer, Steel Lace had less need for physical proficiency. Though there was still a need.

"Oh, put away your paramedic training until it's needed," said Steel Lace, trying to make her statement a good-natured grouse, and almost succeeding. "It's nothing."

"If you say so," said Mesa. "I'm just saying that regeneration tanks are a lot more common, these days. As well as faster and safer than they used to be."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Steel Lace, dryly. "I think the main problem with our current situation is that there's just not much room to move in this minivan."

That was an understatement. Though there were only three people currently in the vehicle, two were quite large and the third was in powered armor. Even with Steel Lace keeping her flexible outfit in "body hugging" mode things were tight in the van. However, that was currently part of the job. They were on stakeout, watching a building connected with the mysterious disappearance of several low-level supers. It might just be what it claimed to be; an employment opportunity center which bragged about including supers among its clientele. However, there had been multiple reports of people with powers who used the service simply dropping out of sight. Including out of contact with friends and family.

"I just don't understand why we're out here in the middle of the night," said Cong, the trio's newest and youngest member, frowning as he eyed the building. "All the info we have implies that if there is something underhanded going on, it's at wherever people are sent to, or on the way. Not here."

"Except we don't show where that is," said Steel Lace, patiently. "It could even be several different locations. If there is something underhanded going on, as you put it, there's a good chance the people responsible will come back after everyone else is gone to deal with any evidence of illegal activities. Since the people reporting the problem claim that some of the people whom we know came here and then vanished weren't even clients, at the very least they're incinerating or otherwise disposing of any paperwork showing that those people were actually here; probably at night. If the people behind the disappearances have for whatever reason to keep records of their illegal activities, that material is likewise probably moved somewhere offsite when there's no-one else around to notice."

Unfortunately, despite the Bay Area Guardians covering the business in shifts from closing to opening the next morning, nothing illegal was observed beyond a few incidents of jaywalking and someone parking in a handicapped only spot without the proper certificate. All of this at times of little vehicular or even foot traffic.

As so often happened in law enforcement work - of all types - nothing significant happened. That night. There were plenty more nights to come.

* * *

"Nervous?" said Vic, grinning, as she pulled the Corolla wagon into a parking space near the Ramsey Technical College gym.

"Only a little," said Michelle, as her wife shut off the ignition. "This isn't my first test, you know."

"A few hours after passing my black belt test I was in a car accident which triggered my powers," said Vic, dramatically.

"I doubt history will repeat itself in just that way," said Michelle, with a laugh. "Oh! There's my parents' car! I'm glad they made it."

That vehicle was far from the only one already in the parking lot. Coach Jude Trujillo had obtained permission to run a regular martial arts school at Ramsey after hours. This was when he taught and tested those who wished to learn self defense but weren't students at the college. That included former Ramsey students, such as Vic, and many others.

Vic wasn't up for a new belt at this time, but Michelle was testing for her Shodan, or First Degree Black Belt. Vic and Trujillo had both emphasized that this was a major step, and that it was actually the beginning of true martial arts learning. That in fact the rank was often translated as "beginning degree." Considering what she had already learned, Michelle found the idea that she was just beginning her martial arts education a bit intimidating. Of course, considering what she had seen both Vic and Coach - or Soke in this setting - Trujillo do she could understand that attitude.

Inside people - students and observers - milled around a bit, the former with their shoes off. Then Trujillo called the class to order. The observers went to the bleachers and the students to the mat. He led a brief warmup, then had the students sit on the floor beyond the mat. After fiddling a bit with some papers he called the board to join him. Vic gave Michelle a grin and a friendly pat on the shoulder, then rose and went to sit on the board.

The tests were given in rank order, and there were many of them before Michelle's. She watched the earlier tests with keen attention, sitting beyond the far edge of the mat from the board, with the other students. In part she was so attentive because she was being retested on a few things which she had barely done well enough on her previous test, the one for her Ikkyu (First Rank Brown Belt). In part because she wanted to learn from what those before her got right... and what they got wrong. In part this was to keep herself occupied, since Vic - as a senior student and black belt - was not with her and she didn't feel like exchanging whispers with other students.

This whole test was a serious matter. There was very little talking after it began except from Soke Trujillo, or in answer to something he said.

Several times a member of the board came out to act as uke for their student. Even Trujillo would uke for a student of his who was testing in something unusual of if their usual uke couldn't be there. Always, uke and tori who were about to be tested were sent aside early enough to warm up and stretch but a bit more. Partly because of this, partly due to the mats and partly due to the school's policy of safe practice, there were no injuries, despite some mistakes and some advanced techniques being evaluated.

Finally, Vic got the nod to go to one side and warm up with Michelle. They didn't talk much, though Michelle occasionally caught her wife grinning at her. Which she found irritating. Though that did take her mind off the test. Which may have been the intent. Or maybe Vic was just proud of her.

Michelle was called out, and her test began. Three times she was asked to repeat a technique - getting no help from Vic at all in advice as to what she might have done wrong, though Trujillo in one case asked her to think about something before doing it again - but for the most part her test went quickly and smoothly. For her weapon katas Michelle used an ordinary, crook-topped cane which had belonged to her maternal grandmother. Finally, she and Vic bowed off. Michelle went back to sitting with the other students of her current rank, and Vic went back to her seat on the board. Michelle was tired, but felt that she had done well.

Several more black belt candidates tested, then several who already had one tested for higher degrees. Finally, the tests over, Trujillo had everyone stand, and the board went into his office to score the participants.

Now those left behind could talk. The students - both those who had tested and their non-board partners - milled around, along with the families and friends of those testing. Michelle took advantage to talk for a bit with her parents and the one sibling - her older brother - who had come to watch. She later didn't remember much of what any of them said, despite the board being adjourned for nearly half an hour. Though she had a vague memory of her father talking about how they had done things differently when he had been in martial arts.

Finally, the board members filed back out into the gym. Everyone quickly resumed their seats and got quiet.

Each person who had tested was now called up in the same order they were tested. Their test was critiqued and they were told what they needed to work on, then they were told whether they had passed. Nearly everyone did. Including Michelle. Who had a hard time maintaining the proper demeanor when told.

Then came the ceremonial tying on of the new belt for those who had passed. Michelle was surprised to discover that Vic had obtained a custom black belt for her, with her name and new rank embroidered on the appropriate ends in white. The last part of the test was Soke Trujillo formally lining all the students up and bowing them off.

Afterwards there was celebration and socializing. However, while this was just getting underway, Trujillo asked Vic to come into his office. Michelle wondered what was going on.

* * *

Trujillo sat behind his desk, and motioned for Vic to sit in one of the chairs in front of it.

"First, I have a question about one of Michelle's techniques which I forgot to ask about during the scoring. Was that Ouchigari as hard as it looked?"

"Well... she almost put me through the mat," said Vic, a bit reluctantly.

"That's what I thought. I'll work with her on being easier on her uke." He laughed. "She's gotten too used to working with you. You're so good at slapping out of a throw I doubt you usually notice."

"I have told her a few times to go easier," said Vic, nodding.

"Now, there's another matter I want to talk with you about," said Trujillo.

He sighed, and looked tired.

"A friend of mine from my own time wearing a mask contacted me three days ago," said Coach Trujillo. "These days he calls himself Satchel. After a satchel charge. He used to be called Torpedo. Says he got suckered into a racket involving cage fights between supers, and the only way he could get out was by playing dead."

"Uh..." said Vic.

"Yeah, he's not very bright and not very coherent. However, from what I could get out of him - and after that one call I haven't been able to contact him again - it was a really bad scene. This was for a group called The Super Battle Federation. He says he was a prisoner, and wasn't the only person held there against his will, either. Though where 'there' was he wasn't too sure about. I think it's something the feds should investigate. Especially since it involves supers."

"Yeah, that sounds... important," said Vic, nodding.

"Anyway, I'm not even sure this guy deliberately played dead. He has regeneration, but if he gets injured past a certain level his metabolism goes anaerobic. No respiration, no heartbeat until his body makes basic repairs. He says that when he woke up he was in clothes that weren't his, lying on the ground, in some woods. That there were several other bodies in the area, in varying stages of decomposition. Just lying there."

"That sounds suspiciously like a body farm," said Vic, who had been given a rather unsettling tour of one as part of a college course in crime investigation.

"That was my guess." Trujillo pulled out two sheets of paper; a map and a written description. "I think I found where he was. I printed out a map of the area where he said he found himself and a transcript of what he said, as best I could remember."

"Thanks," said Vic, nodding as she accepted the two stapled sheets. "I'll definitely check into this. Hopefully, if it was a legitimate body farm they'll have noticed when one of their subjects wandered off. There have been scattered reports the past few months of masks going missing. This could help us find some of them."

"One last thing," said Trujillo, as Vic folded the papers and tucked them into her gi top. "Have you noticed Michelle demonstrating any mystical martial arts abilities?"

"Not noticed, no," said Vic, surprised. "I supposed I should start paying attention to that."

"Yes, you should. Now, let's get back to the celebration."

As the final part of that, everyone was invited to a celebratory dinner at a nearby Chinese restaurant. Most - including the families and friends there to observe the tests - went.

* * *

"It's a social instinct," I muttered, after reading an article online.

"What is?" said Sally.

I was in my office, reading my online clipping service for the morning. Sally was on the opposite side of the room, making use of my Ethernet for her own mysterious purposes. I suspected those purposes included porn, but was in no position to be critical about that.

"Helping people. It triggers endorphin release, something programmed into most people by our evolution as a social species. For some people it can become habit-forming. Even compulsive."

"I hear the voice of experience speaking," she said, clearly amused.

"Oh, it's not universal. It's also not the only motivation or even the only dubious motivation. Some supers are in it for the praise, the adoration of the masses or some other social benefit. Or a practical one, such as leniency from a government, or even cash rewards. Some people just like to solve problems. Most masks are in it for a mixture of reasons, including frustration over the perception that no-one else is doing something about a particular problem they see. However, the 'makes me feel good' motivation is definitely in there."

"That's not always chemical, you know," she said, a bit sternly.

"I did say that some people like solving problems," I playfully countered.

"I meant that there are people who are altruistic just because they want to help."

She sounded rather determined, so I decided that cowardice was the better part of domestic peace.

"I never said there weren't. Just that most people get a bit of a lift from playing the hero."

She muttered something I didn't catch and turned back to her computer.

"What I'm worried about," she said, a few minutes later, startling me, "is that US Senator in California..."

"Kraighearn? Members of his family keep getting elected, have been for over a century, despite attitudes like his. They look - and act - so much alike some people say they're all the same immortal politician."

"Yeah. Him. Anyway, he's introduced a bill to keep people with powers from voting. He says they - we - have different concerns from those of ordinary humans and therefore superhumans can't make informed votes which represent normal human attitudes."

"Despite that willingness to look at problems from new directions being something which supports the need to listen to supers," I said, sighing. "That's also almost exactly what that Louisiana gubernatorial candidate is saying. Even though he's in the other party, and they are pretty much at opposite ends of the political spectrum on just about everything else. What's not explicit in anything they are saying or writing for public consumption but is definitely implicit is that if they have their way every person will have to be tested for powers - probably a genetic test - and prove they're 'normal' before they can be allowed to vote."

"That's crazy!"

"That's politics."