Dave Indigo was the son of Francis Indigo, better known as Doctor Infenso. His father was the most dangerous and cruel villain to ever blight the earth, Dave has a liberal arts degree. He is known simply as: Minion Eighteen
Lord Ferro's voice echoed through the lab. “Minion Eighteen! Report to the genetics wing for testing.” I sighed, he seemed to have it out for me. I survived more tests than any henchman in recent memory, so much so that my henchmates have a betting pool going.
Ferro was obsessed with making me 'worthwhile,' he was my father's best and brightest pupil. He seemed to have some strange idea about my 'carrying on the legacy of terror.' If it weren't for the fringe benefits, I might seriously consider quitting.
I walked to the genetics lab with a bit of trepidation, my luck was astonishing in a way. Most people are horribly maimed, killed, made into hideous monstrosities, develop super powers, or some combination of such. My eye colour changed from brown to green, and that was the only noticeable effect out of thousands of tests.
The current theory among the other henchmen is that I developed the super power of being immune to super-science early on.
Ferro beckoned me in as I entered, he was an odd man. Metallic skin, genius intellect, violent sociopathy... Everything my father wished of me, except for the skin part I'd wager. Though, my father was a weird man.
Ferro smiled at me, and started fiddling with the genetic manipulator. He grabbed a vial from a shelf labelled 'BNA,' I assume because they were out of 'D' shaped decals. He held it up to the light to read the label. “Ah, one Miss Alexandria 'Plasticia' Darrow. A rubber henchman would be quite useful.”
Plasticia was one of a handful of heroes to retire from the business, back in the eighties I believe. She works at the Librarium last I heard. I didn't question how Ferro had her BNA.
Ferro placed the vial in a machine that looked very much like a water heater with a door. It had plastic tubes and wires and lights strapped to it. At Ferro's beckoning I stepped into the chamber.
Vivaldi's Le Quattro Stagioni was playing as pinkish-grey fluid started flooding the chamber. It felt oddly nice, tingly and warm. Like cinnamon gum. By the time it was up to my knees I was growing woozy.
The smell hit me, it was like latex and copper. I was starting to get claustrophobic, but I carried on. Ferro would accept no less from me. The gunk was up to my navel now, it was heavy and thick. Like honey, but not sticky.
By the end of La Primavera the tank was totally full. I could still hear the music, but it was as though from far away. I felt it in my bones more than anything. I zoned out for a while, but noticed the tank start to drain at about halfway through L'inverno. The door opened to the last few notes, and I collapsed forward.
I came to sometime later strapped to a table. Ferro was standing over me, frowning. “Son, I have bad news. Your body is... Well degrading.” I gave him a sharp look. “What do you mean?”
He shook a jar full of strange liquid. “This was your uniform, your body will do the same thing.” A chill ran up my spine. “Can you fix it?” Ferro shrugged. “Kid, I respected your father... But you are just a henchman. It's just more cost effective to-” I moved through my binds and punched him in the face.
My fist kind of squished into his face, but the force was enough to send him backward. I ran out of the med bay and through the lab. Sirens were sounding, and I made a rash decision. I jumped out the window, on the fortieth floor.
I landed on the street with a splat, it took me about five minutes to pull myself together. I felt really weird, like my whole body was numb. I ran toward the gas station a few blocks away, my legs felt and acted like jelly.
I opened the phone box and dialled a number that anyone who lives in New Amsterdam knows. “Hello, this is the New Amsterdam Office of Costumed Heroism. How may we help you today?” I frowned, but answered her. “Medical emergency, lab accident. Unlicensed super-science.”
She tutted, but I think she got the idea. “Sir? I have dispatched a transport to your location, they will arrive shortly.”
By the time the hovercar arrived I was having trouble breathing. The men tried to help me in to the car, but I was too slippery. I managed to struggle in myself. The car dropped me off at the Ichor Centre for Metahuman Studies, I was gathered up by some more men. They put me in some sort of crate.
The next thing I know I'm in another tank, and someone is talking to me through a speaker set. “Sir? We isolated the problem, and are going to try to reverse then neutralize the vectors.” The tank fills very quickly. The liquid is clear, cold, and almost unnaturally light.
I spent several hours in the tank, but I could feel myself solidifying. My hair started to float around me. There was something odd about that thought, but I was too woozy to figure out what.
The tank slowly drained, and I was led out by an older man wearing a labcoat. “It's alright, but there's been a slight complication...” I was sat down on a bed.
I was still woozy, but I heard the word 'complication' sure enough. “What happened?” My voice sounded weird. The scientist cringed. “Eh, well...” He handed me a mirror. The face I saw in the mirror was enough to snap me out of my funk. “What the hell? I'm a girl.”
The scientist nodded. “It seems that you were exposed to some sort of vector designed to infuse you with metahuman DNA, the problem was that it was highly unstable. We couldn't redesign the vector to sync with your DNA, so we redesigned your genetic structure to be compatible.”
I frowned. “So, I'm a woman because...” He sighed. “Uh, well we identified the metahuman mutation as belonging to Plasticia. We tried several combinations, her as your mother, her as your father, both of your parents in either role, and even as a gender reversed clone of her. None were sucessful, and time was not on our side.”
I looked at my face in the mirror, I still resembled my father as I always did. There was no trace of my mother, and my hair was black. It used to be dirty blond. I was disappointed to find my eyes still green.
I looked up at him. “Can I change back?” He frowned. “Not likely, at least not until we understand more about metahuman genetics. This institute's been here for decades, and we've barely scratched the surface. Though, there's a chance that if you refine your new abilities enough you could change yourself back.”
I looked down at my hands. They were small, and dainty. I grabbed onto my finger and pulled, my finger stretched. It was harder than I expected, it felt just like it always did. Fingery. It snapped back when I let go.
The scientist was interested. “Hmm, you seem to be elastic. Plasticia was of course plastic. Curious.”
I laid myself back on the bed, and noticed that I was wearing a robe. “What do I do? I lost my job, and how am I going to prove my iden-” I was interrupted. “Relax, the OCH will fix everything. All you have to do is apply as a member.”
I cringed. “I am, or was I suppose, a henchman of Lord Ferro.” The scientist's eyes shot up. “Maximus Ferro? That shouldn't be too much of an issue, you might have to pass a psychic screening but they should accept you no problem. Especially if you pass on some inside info.”
Turning on Ferro, I smirked. That would show up that asshole, but could I really make it as a hero? I supposed it couldn't be too different from being a henchman. “Alright, I'll sign up. Couldn't hurt.”
The scientist nodded, and stuck out his hand. “Welcome aboard.” I shook his hand, but gave him an odd look. “Isn't that a bit premature?”
He shrugged. “I guess, but I like to trust my instincts. If the psychic okays you, then I don't see any reason to not allow you to join our little group.” I looked at him more closely. The cut of his jaw, the salt and pepper hair, the steely eyes... I can't believe I didn't notice before, I was talking with Captain Ichor the whole time! “Ichor?”
He nodded and flashed his million dollar grin. “Rest a bit, I'm sure you're exhausted. I'll have one of our mentalists get you sorted later.” Now that he mentioned it, I was rather tired.
I went to sleep thinking of the big day that was sure to come.
To Be Continued...
I woke up about twelve hours later, and felt immensely better. There was a care package on the stand next to the bed. It had a note from Ichor on it.
'A little something to help you out. Even if you don't join us, keep it. I feel I owe you for not being able to help you more. - Captain Ichor.'
The note smelled like saffron, probably some of his famous ichor. I smiled, then opened the package. Inside was some clothing, shorts, a blouse, shoes, some underthings, and a watch. It also had walking around money, a driver's licence, passport, and even a birth certificate.
They put my name as Amelia Indigo. That was odd, how did they know my name in the first place? Did I tell them when I was all woozy?
Putting those questions aside for now I put on my new clothes, and was surprised to find they fit perfectly. The bra was a sports number, and was easily figured out. I strapped the watch on, and walked out of the room.
The Institute was huge. High ceilings, glass walls, polished metal, people milling about. There was a large man carrying a giant block of marble. He spotted me and waved, he dropped the block on a man who was leading him through the room.
I gasped as the man was brutally crushed by the block, blood very quickly pooled from underneath it. The big man cringed. “Darn, third time this month!” He picked the block up, and placed it sideways.
The crushed man started pulsing, and each pulse drew his blood back to his body. Once that was done, his body started rebuilding itself with horrible cracking and gurgling sounds. He was back into working shape in less than a minute. “Crash! You need to focus, what if you cracked the block!?”
Crash grimaced. “Sorry Steve, I was just excited to see the new girl.” Steve frowned. “Call me Morph when I'm in uniform!” I walked up to them. “Sorry about that.” Crash smiled, and shook my hand. “No problem little lady, it was my fault entirely.”
Morph was cordial, but I could tell he was in a hurry to get back to work. I waved goodbye, and went on my way. I left the Institute and hailed a taxi, I told the driver to take me to the OCH building.
I arrived at Ericson Square, which was a block or so from where I was going. I paid the driver, and walked the rest of the way. This place was a lot more sedate and formal. I grabbed a 'New Hero Application,' and filled it out. I used my new information. I listed my 'Powers and Abilities' as elasticity and resistance to super-science.
I couldn't think of a good codename, so I just jotted down Minion Eighteen. Hey, it's what I'm used to. I turned my paper in to the rather extreme looking woman at the reception desk. She tutted, to which I rolled my eyes, and sent me to the waiting room.
They called for me, as Miss Indigo, and I walked to the back rooms. An older guy wearing a trench coat met me, and ushered me to a room.
His office was amazing, leather chairs, real books, plasma television, lava lamp, a chess table, and a grandfather clock.
He pulled some cigars from his coat. “Do you mind?” I shook my head. He lit one with a small burst of fire from his finger. “Want one? They're Cuban.” I declined.
He took a draw from his cigar. “My name is Harry, they call me Jester.” I hadn't heard of him, which meant he wasn't one of my father's old enemies. “You Infenso's kid?” I nodded.
He scratched at his chin. “I used to run with your father. Of course, I was known as the Knave of Swords back then.” My jaw dropped. This man was the Knave, my father's Dragon. The only person he feared.
Harry sighed. “Kid, that was almost forty years ago. I'm not that woman any more. I can't undo the past, but the future is our own to forge. You should know that more than most” I nodded hesitantly.
“Why are you a man now, did you have an accident like me?” Harry shook his head then laughed. “No kid, I just decided to let the real me out.” We talked for a while about how he became the man he was today, which made me feel a lot better. He understood how I felt more than anyone.
He smiled warmly. “How about a game, and we can talk about you for a bit, sound good?” He motioned to the chess set. I smiled and moved my chair over. We played for a while, and he asked me a lot of questions.
About my father, my childhood, my schooling, my life as a henchman, Ferro's plans and anything I knew that could be of use, the last few days, and how I'm doing right now.
He won the match, but I put up a good fight. Harry nodded and clapped his hands. “Well, everything seems to check out. You have my vote.” He stamped my file, leaving a big red 'APPROVED' mark on it. “Now you just need to get an ID, stop by the Institute for power testing, and sign up for active duty.”
I frowned. “What about my uniform, do I have to make my own?” He chuckled. “Nah, just use the gauntlet.” He pointed to my watch. He saw my confusion and showed me his, he held a couple of the buttons. “Patrol mode.”
His clothes shifted around. He still had the trench coat, but it became black, his pants became leather and heavier. Belts and straps appeared haphazardly, his shirt became a red and black affair. Knives, darts, and other small weapons started appearing.
A long and wicked looking sceptre was on his back, a domino mask was on his face and on his head was a three pointed hat. He activated the watch.”Stealth mode.” His civvies shifted back into existence. “The watches are nanite factories, they infuse our clothes and can manufacture weapons and armour and such at a moment's notice.” He handed me a pamphlet from his desk. “Destroy this after you memorize it.”
I put it in my pocket and activated my watch. “Patrol mode.” My clothes morphed into a jumpsuit. It was grey and red, I had heavy boots and gloves. I also had goggles, and my hair became feathery and a light brown. My chest was emblazoned with the number eighteen, and I got a utility belt! A quick check in the mirror showed my lips were the same red as my outfit, but they didn't feel any different.
Harry nodded. “You look good kid, now get. But, remember that you can talk to me whenever you want. Just ask for Jester.”
Getting the ID was pretty straightforward, I turned in my file and they took pictures of me both in and out of uniform. The card I was given reflected my information based on what guise I was in. I put it in my utility belt, the pouch closest to where my right pocket would be seemed appropriate.
I made a mental note to check what's in the pockets, and to pick up some stuff to put in it. I signed up for active duty at the front desk, and they said I'd be sorted into an existing squad based on my power testing.
I walked out to the street to find a hover transport waiting for me. The grizzled looking pilot waved me in. “Courtesy of the Good Captain.” Ichor again, he must feel pretty bad about not being able to 'rescue' me.
The pilot had Loverboy on the radio. “Nice uniform, my first one was crap.” I smiled. “Oh?” He nodded and laughed. “Yeah, short shorts and a cape.” I laughed as well. “So, you were a sidekick.” He shook his head. “Kid, I was the sidekick.” Ah, I wondered what happened to him. “So you were Calibre?” He nodded, and sighed. Gunslinging heroes were 'phased out' in the seventies, too many accidents.
He winked at me as I left, and I had the distinct impression he was watching me as I walked into the building. I flashed my ID to the guy at the front desk, and he said to head to the back. Once I arrived at the testing lab, a man wearing a labcoat led me to a exam table.
He had grey hair and was unshaven. “Wait right here.” He had a slight Irish accent and was chewing gum. He walked over to some cabinets and took out some boxes.
He rummaged around in it, and pulled out what looked like a tuning fork. He pressed a button on his gauntlet and my clothes went back to civilian mode. He poked me with the fork, and pressed a button. Sparks flew out from it, and it made a horrible cracking noise, but I felt nothing. “Hmm...”
He went back to the box and pulled out a blowtorch, he turned the knob and a small flame shot out. “Take off your shirt.” I was a bit nervous, but did as he asked. He moved the torch around on my back for just a second then pulled it away. He poked my back with his finger, and moved it around. He did the same on a spot that wasn't torched.
“No thermal degradation at one thirty, let's try one seventy.” That continued for about an hour, he got up to three thousand degrees before stopping. “Dang kid, you have a TPP rating at least as good as firefighting gear.”
Three hours, and countless tests, later he just finished testing my resistance to radiation. “Well, you seem to handle everything like a champ. It's a shame you still need to breathe, eat, and sleep though. Time for the last test!” He led me to the shooting range.
I stood at the far end of the range, and he took aim with a pistol. He shot me in the gut, and the bullet sank into me. I felt a pulling sensation for a second, before the bullet shot back out and hit the scientist right in the forehead.
There was a bit of blood dripping down his face, but he seemed fine. He grabbed a phone from the wall and spoke into it. His voice came to me form some speakers in the ceiling. “Alright, now come closer. I need to try the shotgun, and it's always more fun from point-blank range.”
To Be Continued...
AN: A boon to the first person ot figure out why Steve's codename is Morph, before I bring it up in the story anyway.