Unstoppable - 2

For Chapter 1 go here

Human Person sighed and leaned back in their workchair, swiveling it restlessly back and forth while they flipped their favorite wrench in one hand. Autobot had gone to pick up some parts for their next escapade – legally, this time, from a hardware store, though at least paid for with not-so-legal funds. Human consoled themself that it was at least somewhat shady – but the hardware store was local, and struggling, and would have been a pretty meager heist at best.

Human decided to go for a walk. They didn't have to take the new, improved Speedster everywhere, after all, though they were exceedingly proud of it, and had dubbed it the Hawkstrike 2.0, had any reporters cared to ask. They never did, but maybe someday ....

Outside it was in that darkling stage halfway between twilight and full night. A soft breeze blew, the air rich and fresh, and the soft pad of their footsteps mingled with the music of the crickets and night birds. The night was beautiful. The city, however, grew more decrepit by the day. It was a lure for every supervillain out there, and the city’s superheroes were struggling to withstand the deluge. Fine circumstances for Human Person’s benefit – and they’d certainly taken advantage of it – but the playing field had become uncomfortably crowded.

Maybe they should move, Human thought, blood pumping from muscle to brain as they walked. They could conquer any new place they chose. Maybe somewhere European and refined, or Eastern and exotic ….

But even as they thought it, they knew they’d never do it. The city had become, in some strange way, their home, and they would no more leave it than scrap Autobot for parts.

Human was so lost in thought that they didn’t hear the heavy thud of footsteps running toward them. But the solid thwack of something impacting their body and the bright flash of pain got their attention. The sharp crack in the air following close behind told Human they’d just been shot.

Of course, Human would no more leave their lair without their reinforced bodysuit than they would leave it naked – but without the plating of their supersuit it was little more than carbon fiber mesh, enough to stop the bullet but not the pain.

Human stumbled and fell to hands and knees, and the attacker bashed the pistol against their head and knocked them prone. The attacker started rifling through Human’s pockets, and they felt a baffled disbelief. Who mugged anyone anymore? Who even carried money to be stolen anymore? Human, dazed and hurting, opened their mouth to question the attacker’s reasoning – and then a throaty voice commanded, “Leave that person alone!”

The attacker shot to his feet just in time to catch a punch to the jaw. A few fragments of teeth pattered on Human’s back, and they levered themself up to watch the show.

The hero – for hero this clearly was, too neophyte for super status – was a woman fitted out entirely in black. Black cargo pants, black long-sleeved tee shirt, simple black hood, and with dark goggles concealing her eyes and black greasepaint smeared over the rest of her face. Her fists were gloved, but they glinted with silver as she pummeled the attacker, and Human caught sight of silver knuckles wrapped around her fingers.

The attacker, beaten, bruised, and bloody, tried to run for it – but the hero shot a whipcord from a device on her wrist, and the cord wrapped tight around his body. He fell, groaning, defeated, and the hero turned to Human.

“Are you all right?” she asked, panting.

Human pulled their aching body to a semblance of upright. “I think so,” they said. “Who are you?”

“I’m the Black Cat,” she said. “And how? I saw him shoot you!”

Human felt a twinge. The. They guessed you had to start it early. That had been their mistake.

Human realized they hadn’t answered her question. Didn’t really want to, either. They stalled. “I haven’t heard of you. You new in town?”

“Sort of,” she said, looking away, then back. “You’re avoiding the question.”

“Can’t I try to make conversation with someone who just saved my life?” Human protested.

She just looked at them for a long moment, then gave a little gasp. “You’re one, too!” she said.

“One what?”

“A supe!” she hissed.

“You got me,” Human said, and hoped she didn’t think to ask them on which team.

“I’ve never met another supe before,” she said. “I mean, I stood in line to get Wonder Man’s autograph once, but that doesn’t really count.” She hugged her arms around herself and asked slowly, “Do you – do you want to come back to my hideout?”

What they wanted was a handful of painkillers, an ice pack, and bed. Their body ached from the gunshot, their head from the pistol-whipping – their supersuit was equipped with an armored helmet, but that, like the plating, was back at the lair. But Human recognized the weight of her gesture, and inclined their head. “I would be honored,” they said.

They left the semiconscious attacker for the cops to find – eventually – and headed for a dilapidated industrial block.

“So, silver knuckles, huh?” Human said as they walked. “Not claws?”

“I have claws,” she said, and flexed her gloved hand. Five razor sharp metal claws pierced through the fabric at her motion. “But they’re mostly for climbing. Too easy to slice something vital by mistake.” 

Human took a moment to be deeply thankful that they never had to worry about their opponents’ wellbeing. “And the ropes?” they asked with a touch of professional curiosity.

“Actually a quick dry polymer,” she said, tapping the box on her wrist. “Self-adhesive. But, well, cats and string, you know? Besides, I needed something to hold the bad guys for the authorities.”

“Clever and effective,” Human said with honest appreciation. True, the Cat’s gear was pretty crude – but then, Human’s had been too, at the start.

There was a silence then which might have been awkward but wasn’t, and then the Cat turned down a narrow alley and stopped below a fire escape. She leaped lightly up, grabbed the ladder, and hauled it down.

“This way,” she said, and started climbing.

Human followed, and two flights of rickety stairs later she ducked into an open window and Human crawled in after her.

“I’m home!” she called out, and Human had a moment’s worry that this might be an elaborate trap – and then a heavy black tomcat bounded into the room, meowing reproachfully. He permitted the Cat to pet him, then turned gleaming eyes on Human.

Human crouched, and proffered their hand slowly. The cat sniffed, considered, and then rubbed his chin on Human’s fingers with a rumbly purr. Human took a chance and ran their hand gently over his fur, and the purring increased.

”What’s his name?” Human asked.

She paused for a long moment, and they thought she might not answer, but then she said shortly, “Friend.” There was a world of loneliness hidden in that word that Human had the decency not to pry into.

“Well, you certainly have a lot of space,” Human said, straightening up and looking around with approval. They stood in an open room encompassing an entire floor of the warehouse, high ceilinged and with wide windows on every wall, only some of which were boarded with plywood. A few scattered lights fought a losing battle with the shadows. Boxes and racks littered the periphery, shoved aside to make room for a padded training area, a workbench hefting a scattering of tools, and a card table holding a computer and a police scanner. In the far corner, Human saw a makeshift kitchenette consisting of a utility sink, camp stove, microwave, and minifridge. Beside that lay a neatly made bed, merely a mattress lying on the concrete floor.

“Do you want something to drink?” she asked, as the cat alternated rubbing against her ankles and Human’s. “I have coffee, or water, or, um, coffee ….”

“Coffee would be great,” said Human.

They followed her over to the kitchenette, where she filled a worn electric kettle, plugged it in, and pulled a French press – they still made those? Human thought – out of a box.

“There’s cold packs in the fridge,” she said. “He walloped you pretty good. You’re gonna have a black eye.”

“Won’t be the first time,” Human said, but opened the fridge. Inside, they saw a large pile of gel cold packs, a half-empty jug of milk, and a foil-wrapped can of cooked chicken. There was nothing else.

Human took a cold pack silently, pressed it to their head, and quietly shut the fridge. The Cat carried the French press and two mugs over to the bed, and plopped down cross-legged. She patted the mattress beside her, and Human sat down as well. It was better than the floor, at least, though not by a lot. She pressed the grounds, poured the coffee, and handed them a cup.

Human took a tiny sip. Steaming hot, but delicious. They said as much.

“Thanks,” the Cat said.

They sipped in silence for a moment, then Human spoke to fill the air. “You’ve got a good setup here to start with,” they said. “What’s your security system look like?” Human felt a stab of more than professional concern about this, and wondered at themself.

“Well, I’ve got some cameras outside, and one on the entrance,” she said, a little awkwardly.

“That’s it? No stun rays, no sonic fields, no hidden electric zappers of any kind?”

“Well, no,” she said, almost apologetically; then, with growing realization, “Hey, is that your power? Are you a tech?”

“Something like that,” Human said, and tried to turn the subject. “What’s yours?”

She was quiet for a moment, but Human knew heroes loved talking about their powers almost as much as villains did.

“I don’t think I can die,” she said finally.

Human digested that. “You don’t think?” they said. “Seems like something you’d want to be sure of. What makes you think so?”

“I’m not really sure how it works,” she said. “But anytime it seems like I’m just about to die, things get very, very clear. And then there’s a feeling like a push, and then things change. A bullet ricochets, a knife slips, a bad guy suddenly trips over his own feet. Usually something small, something just enough for me to live through what was going to kill me.”

Human considered this carefully. “Well, it’s not as flashy as flight or superstrength, but it sounds impressive to me.”

“You really think so?”

“Definitely. I think you’ve got a lot of potential, Cat.” And then Human had a truly brilliant idea. “In fact, I think all you need is some proper financing.”

“Financing?” she said, and scowled. “I won’t take charity.”

“Not charity. It just so happens that I have some connections to a sort of … scholarship fund. Helping starting superheroes get off the ground. I think you’re an excellent candidate.”

“How come I’ve never heard of it?” she asked.

“It’s very hush-hush,” Human prevaricated, pulling out their sleek cellphone and tapping while they talked. “Word of mouth sort of thing. Point is, I know, and now you know, and it’ll go a lot easier if you just give me your wire transfer numbers with a smile, okay?”

The Cat hesitated, then pulled out her own battered cellphone and tapped a few entries. She handed it to Human wordlessly. Human took it, made the arrangements, sent through the transfer, and handed it back. They couldn’t see her eyes through the goggles, but they heard her long, slow intake of breath.

“I’ve never seen so many numbers in my account,” she managed, awed.

“It’s a monthly stipend, too,” Human fabricated. “So no hoarding. Spend it all on improvements.”

They stood, placed their mug in the sink, and returned the cold pack to the fridge with a glare of vicious satisfaction at the empty shelves. Then they headed for the entrance window. The Cat followed, wondering and a little lost. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she began.

“You can thank me,” Human interjected, “by making sure this is the last time anyone gets through this window unannounced without being fried by ten thousand volts.”

And then with a roar and a flash the Hawkstrike 2.0 blasted into the space next to the catwalk and hovered, waiting, drawn by the summons Human had sent through on their phone.

“Will I see you again?” the Cat asked softly.

“You think I didn’t put your number in my phone?” Human asked, grinning wickedly and clambering onto the scooter. “I’ll be in touch, Cat.”

Then they gunned the engine and blasted off into the night.

*****

The Autobot groaned a metallic grinding of gears and queried, “Oh, Master, what have you done now?”

“What?” Human asked defensively, still typing away on their computer. “What do you mean?”

“You are 157% more cheerful, 132% more animated, and 285% more smug than usual. You are also humming, which is a certain indication that you are up to something very troublesome indeed.”

“Nonsense, Autobot,” Human said. “Now go sort the parts from the hardware store. I’m a bit busy here.”

The Autobot emitted a longsuffering beep and whir, but complied.

Human typed, and searched, and thought. A scholarship fund for needy superheroes, they should have thought of it years ago. That would help clear the crowded villain field, and keep the city intact enough to be worth pillaging. Human hummed, softly, wickedly, and crawled through the net, looking for prospects.