A Second Generation Whateley Academy Story
Making a Noise in the World
by Domoviye
Part 1
Phoenix, Arizona
Thursday, October, 13th, 2016
Mid-morning
No one paid much attention to the teenager as the bus made its way to Phoenix. She sat quietly near the back, her head gently rocking to the music from her ear pods, a large backpack sat on the seat beside her. Since the bus wasn't full, there were no complaints about her using both seats. The only odd thing about her was the black glove she wore on her right hand. But that wasn't enough to draw attention. She was dressed like a punk, from the black tights and too short Catholic school girl skirt to the messy pixie cut. A single glove was clearly just her attempt at being unique.
Natalie ignored the world around her, focusing on her notebook. She was busy sketching an arm covered in flowing lines with a musical note beside each one. Despite the sketch getting almost the entirety of her attention, a tiny portion of her mind focused on the music. Currently it was a traditional Chinese song, 'Fisherman's Song at Dusk'.
A small frown creased her brow. She had been practising the Chinese zither over a year ago, and had wanted to perform the same song on stage. Shaking her head, she forced the thoughts away. There was no point in crying over what had happened. Still she skipped to the next song, a piano piece she had mastered when she was ten.
A while later, the bus finally came to a stop. Natalie waited until everyone else was up and leaving before grabbing her backpack and standing up, taking a moment to stretch her back. She hung her ear buds by the wire around her neck and turned up the music. As she slowly followed the line, no one paid attention to the faint musical notes that sounded with each step she took. Once outside she headed through the station to the sidewalk out front, took a deep breath and grinned, looking at the city where she'd get her fresh start.
Taking a cab to a nearby budget hotel, she walked into the place like she owned it. Five minutes and one fake driver’s license later, she had a place to rest her head. Getting it for a week had nearly cleaned out her bank account, but that wouldn't be a problem for long.
Making sure the door was locked, Natalie took off her glove and shirt. Her left hand stroked the hard grey metal of her right arm, tracing the faintly glowing, yellow lines that ran along it, checking for scratches or damage. Satisfied that it was pristine, she emptied her backpack onto the bed. Her few clothes were set aside, while the much more important devises were carefully placed in a row.
“OK, I have four domes of silence, three boomers, five shrieks, the sleeper, and my suits.” she bit her lip, not sure if that would be enough. She wished she could have grabbed some tools, and she still regretted having to leave over five pounds of sonic metal behind, but there wasn't much she could do about it now.
“Remember,” she said to herself, “this is your start up, you just need enough cash to buy some tools, eat and get a place to live. Once you have that, you can build up. This will be easy.”
Taking a small bar made of the same metal as her arm, she placed it on the door and softly whistled, a single glowing line appeared on its surface. If the door opened up it would shriek loud enough to burst eardrums.
Stripping off the rest of her clothes, she took a minute to study her legs. Like her arm they were made of metal to just below her pelvis. There were less of the glowing lines on them, she didn't need as much dexterity to walk as she did to control her hand and fingers. Then she headed to the bathroom, her legs chiming with every step.
Filling up the bath, Natalie looked around nervously, as if afraid someone would appear. She went back into the room and picked up the sleeper, a gun like devise. More confidently she headed back to the bathroom. She spread the largest towel on the floor beside the tub, and placed several towels within easy reach, along with her small bag of soap and shampoo. Turning off the water, she stared at the tub then her limbs.
Closing her eyes, she began humming a simple song to calm herself. Once she felt confident enough, she sat on the side of the tub and whistled a complicated tune, causing her legs to straighten out. Carefully she eased them off from her precarious seat. It took a minute and a near fall but she got the prosthetics off of what was left of her thighs.
“OK, that was easy,” she muttered to herself, trying not to stare at the burned and scarred flesh. “Now the hard part.”
Using just her arms, she gently lowered herself into the warm water. Once she was settled, she grabbed her right arm and whistled another tune, there was a hissing sound and the arm hung loose in her hand. She eased it off revealing a stump that ended a few inches below her shoulder. Placing it on the towel, she once more began humming to herself.
Taking a washcloth, trying not to think of how many people had used the bath before her, she soaped it up and began washing herself onehanded with only a little bit of awkwardness. Her humming never stopped, and she pointedly avoided looking at what was left of her limbs, or the burn scars on the right side of her torso. She sprayed some dry shampoo into her hair, promising she'd wash it properly later.
Done with washing, she used her left arm to lever herself out of the tub and landed a little painfully on the towel. “Next hotel I get, I make sure they have a damn handheld sprayer,” she growled.
After drying herself off, she quickly put her legs and arm back on. Feeling like herself again, she dressed and headed out to scout the neighbourhood and to find a cheap meal.
South Mountain, Phoenix, Arizona
Late Evening
“Are you sure you want to be let out here?” the Uber driver asked. “It's not exactly a safe neighbourhood.”
“I'll be fine,” Natalie said, not at all sure if she really would be.
The driver looked at her like she was nuts, then shrugged his shoulders. “You're funeral,” he said as he pulled away.
She couldn't blame him, South Mountain wasn't the most dangerous part of Phoenix, but it was in the top five. A lone teen girl with a backpack walking around at night, with expensive earbuds hanging from her neck playing music, was a victim waiting to happen.
“OK Forte, time to put on your game face,” she said to herself. Straightening her studded, black jacket, she started down the street.
There was a distant gunshot, she forced herself to ignore it. Trying to act uncaring wasn't easy for her, coming from a small town where the worst thing at night were a few drunks. Getting glared at by prostitutes who ranged from pretty teen girls, some younger than she was, to worn out old women made her want to shiver. Seeing people slumped in alleyways, drunk, drugged or maybe dead was another new experience she could have done without.
Unthinkingly she began to hum to herself.
As she walked along, not exactly sure what she was looking for, a man came up beside her. “Give me your bag,” he said, pressing something hard into her side.
Forte froze, a cold flash running through her body. For a moment she had no idea what to do and her heart raced. 'Snap out of it, Forte!' she thought to herself.
“OK,” she meekly said, shifting away from the possible weapon so she could take her backpack off. As soon as there was space between her and the mugger, she jabbed him with her right hand. Two fingers brushed against his temple and there was a deep thrumming from her fingertips. The sound waves reverberated through his skull. He moaned and fell to the ground, unconscious for at least several minutes.
She looked down at the would be mugger then at her hand, still a little stunned at what had happened. Then she let out a squeal of glee. She hadn't had a chance to try out the sleeper on a human, she'd been sure it would work, but seeing it in action was so much different than planning it out and testing it on animals.
Getting herself back under control, Forte knelt down and checked his pockets, there was a small rusty gun, a wallet with some money in it and a phone. Holding the gun in her right hand, she began to squeeze, her entire arm hummed like a hydrolic press. It took a minute, but when she opened her hand there was only a twisted hunk of metal and cracked plastic in her palm. Destroying the phone was much easier. She took the money out of the wallet, tucking it into her backpack and tossed the wallet onto the road.
Ignoring the stares she was getting from a pair of prostitutes, she started walking again, not bothering to look back.
As it got closer to midnight more people wandered the street, many were looking for a good time, heading to a bar usually right after leaving, or being thrown out of, another bar. Others were quietly talking to each other, exchanging cash for a small package. And of course there were men seeking an arrangement with the many women who walked up and down the street.
She'd had to tell several men who propositioned her to screw off, they weren't who she was looking for. It was getting late and even after taking a nap before her meagre supper, she was getting tired. “At least I can be happy my feet don't get sore,” she muttered, allowing herself a momentary, bitter smile.
And then she saw what she had been looking for.
Five guys, wearing similar clothes, drinking some beer and looking cocky. A closer look and she saw one of them had a pistol sticking out of his pants. “All right, Forte, showtime,” she said.
Acting like she was on stage, about to give a performance, she forced a small confident smile to appear and walked up to the group, happy that her knees couldn't shake or give out on her.
“Hey guys,” the most sober of the guys said, “looks like tonight's our lucky night.”
“Girl, you want a good time. I'll give you the ride of your life,” one of them said, grabbing his crotch. The rest of the group laughed, and gave their own, endearing, greetings.
“As fun as that sounds,” Forte said, “I'm here on business.”
“We like business.” the first one said. “Come back to our place, pretty little thing and we'll make sure you get everything you want.” This was met with hoots and hollers.
“I'm not for sale, what I have is,” she said. “Do you have somewhere a little more private to talk?”
That got their attention. They started to circle around her, while the apparent leader said, “We don't like competition here, little girl. You want to sell anything, you gotta make sure we get a cut.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I figured. That's why I'm talking to you, and why I want to sell directly to you. Now do you want to do this right here on the street or somewhere we can sit down and really talk?” It was only thanks to her years of experience on stage that she could sound so confident, when she was on the verge of pissing herself.
“Come on,” the guy said, heading into the nearby bar. The rest of them boxed her in, making sure she followed him. The bouncer looked at her and the guys then pointedly ignored her. They sat down at a table near the back, and a waitress came over almost immediately with some beers.
They took a minute to take a drink and get a good look at each other. They didn't look that impressed with what they saw. When she took off her glove, revealing her metal hand, their eyes widened a little and they sat up straighter. She sipped her beer, making sure they saw how naturally her hand moved.
“So what do you want to sell?” the guy asked.
“Just a second,” she said, reaching into her bag. She pulled out a flat devise about the size of a large tablet, turned some dials and placed it on the table. The music and noise of the bar stopped instantly. Now she had their complete attention.
“I'm Forte, a devisor. That,” she said, pointing at the devise, “is a dome of silence. You can control how big the dome is, from as small as this table to the entire bar. No noise can penetrate it, no noise leaves it. Very useful for private conversations. Its battery will last for a maximum of six hours before it needs to be recharged. The devise itself will work for about five weeks before I need to give it a tune-up.”
They gave the devise an odd look. Everyone had heard of devises, the impossible machines some mutants could create, not many people saw them up close and personal. “No one can hear what we're saying, no matter how hard they try?”
“If they're not in the dome, not a chance,” she replied. That wasn't quite true, magic could probably break through the globe, but it was unlikely anyone would use magic to listen in on some low level gangsters.
“You got any of those cool weapons supervillains use?” one of the other gang members asked.
Forte pulled out two baseball-like objects, one black, one silver. “I've got two working models right now.” Picking up the black ball, she held it out for them to see. “This is the Shriek. Press the button, count to three and throw it. When it goes off, anyone within ten feet of it will have their eardrums popped, and have a headache from hell. Within twenty feet, they'll bleed from their ears and feel like shit.”
Placing it back on the table, she grabbed the silver one. “This is the Boomer. Same as the first, press the button, count to three and throw. When it goes off it lets out a subsonic boom that makes you want to vomit and crap your pants. When I tested it, everything within 10 feet fell down and couldn't get back up for over a minute.”
“How many of these do you have?” the leader asked.
“Right now my supplies are limited, I've got four domes of silence , three boomers, five shrieks. I am building a workshop, once it's set up I can begin making a steady supply of these, along with other items,” she said.
“And what if we just take what you have right now, including you, and make you work for us?”
She whistled. The studs of her coat turned into a liquid, spreading across the jacket and hardening again. From under her collar the same metal surged upwards covering her head, leaving tiny slits for her eyes and nose. The glowing lines on her right hand were almost blinding now and the humming sound set their teeth on edge.
“This is sonic metal. My own personal invention,” she said, her voice distorted by the metal. “Bulletproof, knife proof, and I have complete control over it. I'm willing to sell you some of my devises, but I keep the best ones for myself.”
The gang members were leaning away from her, not cowed by her demonstration, but definitely wary of her.
“Now,” she said, keeping all of them in her view, “there are three options for you. The best one, we make a deal and keep doing business in the future. The second best, I take my things and walk away with no hard feelings. Or the last option, you try to fuck with me and find out what happens when you piss off a supervillain who can turn your brain into slurry. What will it be?”
The leader began laughing. “I like a person with balls! My name's Foot Long. We'll talk tomorrow and we might have a deal.”
Forte was very glad her mask hid her blush and look of disbelief at his name. Getting her emotions back under control she whistled, making her armour disappear again. She was grateful that it hadn't come down to a fight, since she didn't know if her armour really was bulletproof. Hiding her fear behind a smile, she raised her beer, “I like a person with brains, Foot Long, lets hope we can make a deal.”
Friday October, 14th, 2016
Late morning
Natalie buttered another scone and leaned back contentedly, as instrumental jazz filled her ears. She probably shouldn't have spent so much on brunch, but thanks to taking the muggers wallet she had some money to spare. It wasn't enough to start buying any decent tools or rent a place, so it might as well go towards keeping her fat and happy.
She checked her phone again to make sure she hadn't missed a message from Foot Long. She still couldn't believe that was his nickname, even after he'd offered, numerous times, to show why he'd gotten the name.
Still nothing.
Nibbling on her scone, she began writing down the cheapest tools and chemicals she would need to begin her plans. Most of it was easy enough to get, a quick trip to a hardware store and a big box store would do. She'd figured out how to make sonic metal with stuff she found in her parents home, and a lot of recycling. With her own work space, not having to hide what she was doing, and working with an actual budget she could start making her more complicated designs and really begin building.
Her biggest problem would be transporting everything. Uber, public transit and her own feet could work for basic errands, but going to a weapons deal, moving the product, and other things needed something a bit more discreet. She glared at her cybernetic hand, unfortunately she didn't know how to drive.
How did criminals and supervillains hire help? She knew about the Syndicate and other groups, they weren't exactly secret. But knowing about them from TV and the net was different from actually knowing how to contact them in real life. Maybe she could find one of the many supervillains in the city and talk to them.
Natalie shook her head at that one, she'd come off looking weak and she'd owe a favour to a supervillain. Frankly, she'd much rather have them owe her favours. A bigger problem was if they thought she was a plant or something went wrong, then she'd be in a fight. She had some tricks to deal with violence, but she'd be the first person to admit that fighting wasn't her thing. Best to avoid the possibility as much as possible.
Her scone went flying as her phone buzzed.
Blushing at the stares from the waitresses, she picked up the scone, putting it off to the side before looking at the message. It was from Foot Long telling her to meet him and his people at Arizona Mills shopping mall, at two.
Her eyebrows raised at that. She'd thought they'd want to meet at some bar again, or maybe an abandoned building, but a shopping mall, especially the biggest one in the city. She was not expecting that. Still, that would make it harder for either of them to screw the other over.
Smiling to herself, she began packing up her things. There were things to do before she showed up.
Arizona Mills,
Afternoon
“Oh yeah, this is a great place to meet,” Forte muttered to herself.
The Phoenix Warriors were putting on a display for the crowd. The entire team wasn't there of course, since it was a weekday and just a little before 2pm, there weren't enough people to make it worth their time just yet. Instead the two newest members of the team, Sun Hawk and the rookie Mogollon Monster were signing autographs, getting their pictures taken, and generally showing off.
She had to admit that seeing Sun Hawk flying in her golden, feathered costume was impressive, and watching the Sasquatch-like Mogollon juggle two truck engines made her hope she never had to fight the big mutant.
Superheroes had never interested her before. She knew the basics and would watch them on the news sometimes, but her focus had always been on music. However in the last six months, as she'd developed her plans learning more about them had become her top priority. The online community was pretty sure Sun Hawk was a college student, who could fly, had slightly above human strength and relied on speed and agility to fight. She was primarily a scout, who did hit and run attacks on major threats, and would remove minor threats and minions as quickly as possible. Mogollon had appeared in the summer, so he was probably eighteen and just finished high school. Not much was known about him other than that he had gone toe to toe with The Cannibal for over a minute and came out of it with a few bruises after being tossed in front of a speeding transport truck.
Both of them would be bad news if it came to a fight. Against Sun Hawk, she would have to try to catch the hero off guard and hit her with whatever she could and not stop until the hero was down for the count, not exactly an easy task. Her only hope against Mogollon would be putting him to sleep for a few minutes so she could run like hell.
Sun Hawk landed beside her. Cursing herself for staring, Forte forced herself to smile, hoping they wouldn't hear the faint notes of her cybernetics over the noise of the mall and her earbuds.
“Shouldn't you be in school?” the hero asked.
“I- uh, I graduated last term,” she said. Her cheeks lit up at how terribly she'd lied.
The superhero laughed, she sounded and looked young, only a few years older then Forte. “Right. Don't worry, playing hooky, once in a while, isn't too bad. Just don't make a habit of it,” she stressed. “Do you want a picture with us?”
“Sure,” Forte's mouth said, without checking with her brain first. Not that it mattered much anyways, all her brain could do was pray to whatever gods were listening that the superheroes didn't check her backpack and discover the weapons.
Sun Hawk waved Mogollon over. He walked over grinning, showing off enormous teeth, as he loomed several feet above her. “Hi,” he said, his accent sounded Korean or maybe Chinese. Kneeling down so he was able to look at her eye to eye, he held out his hand. “I'm Mogollon, and you are?”
“Nat,” she said, barely stopping herself from saying her full name. She put her gloved hand in his and gingerly shook. The feedback sensors in her arm told her that his grip was very light, barely touching her, she didn't want to think of what he could do to her hand if he used even a fraction of his strength.
“If you give Mogollon your phone, he can get all of us in the shot. He's a great photographer and his long arms are fantastic for selfies,” Sun Hawk said.
Very carefully so as not to show anything that she shouldn't, Forte pulled her phone out of her bag. It was only through a supreme act of will that the smile stayed in place. Handing over the phone, which looked like a toy in the huge hero's hand, she let the heroes lean in and made a peace sign. She looked out of place with her black studded jacket and punk look, next to the jeans and polo shirt of Mogollon and the golden suit of Sun Hawk, but they didn't seem to care and there was no way she was taking off her protective jacket.
When she got her phone back so they could look at the photo, she had to admit that Mogollon really was good at taking photos. She wondered if she should print it out and frame it, in honour of tricking the heroes.
“That is really nice,” Sun Hawk said. “Do you mind if we post it online?”
Her heart stopped. If she said no, it would look suspicious. If she said yes, her face would be plastered online with superheroes. “Sure, that would be great!” she said, her mouth once more acting without her brains permission. It took a moment to share the photo, and then Forte knew she had to leave before she did something truly stupid or had a heart attack. “Thanks, but now I've really gotta go now. I'm meeting friends and stuff,” she said.
“Go have fun,” Sun Hawk said. “But on Monday be in class on time, got it?”
“I will,” she replied, before hurrying away.
A few minutes later she saw her potential customers sitting in the food court, talking, sipping some drinks and snacking on fries. She had to admit they didn't look like they wanted to cause any trouble, much less that they were about to buy some weapons.
“Hey Foot Long,” she said, taking a seat across from him and an older guy she didn't know.
“Forte, this is Clumsy,” he said. “I've told him about your stuff and he's interested.”
“It's a pleasure to meet you, Clumsy,” she said.
He looked her up and down, his face not revealing anything. “Lets see that silencer of yours,” he said.
Since the dome of silence didn't look like anything except an interesting electronic device, she didn't hesitate to dig it out of her bag. Placing it on the table, she turned it on, letting them both clearly see what she was doing.
“You said this lasts for six hours, how do you recharge it?” Clumsy asked.
“Use a universal USB charger. It'll take ten hours to fully recharge, I'm working on ways to speed that up. And it will last 6 hours at its lowest setting. If you set it at max it'll last about an hour,” she said.
“How about this tune up thing you told my guys about?”
“It's a high end devise, it only works because of my power. So when its away from me it starts to wear out. With the simpler things like the shriek or boomer, they'll be good for three or four months,” she explained. “When it runs out, you bring it to me and for a small fee I'll get it working again in an hour or two.”
He nodded, still not revealing his thoughts. “About your weapons, we don't need grenades. The cops and heroes would be on our asses for that.”
“Right, but these aren't regular grenades,” she said. “If you use them all that witnesses will hear is a loud noise. There wouldn't be any explosions, no damage besides maybe a few windows breaking, and no dead bodies. The people will be down and out, so you can do whatever you want to them, including leaving them alone. Even a medical report will just show that they have popped eardrums and maybe a few burst blood vessels in their eyes. And these are reusable. You can pick them up again, bring them to me and I just have to change a few minor parts to have them working again. Even if you leave them there, all the cops have is a weird ball full of useless electronics and a speaker.”
Now he leaned forward, clearly interested. “I'll think about the weapons. But I'll want a demonstration to see that they work.”
“Of course,” she agreed.
“Now how much for the silencer?” he asked.
Smiling, she leaned in ready to haggle.
Evening
“That's disappointing,” Natalie said, looking over her funds.
She'd gotten a nice chunk of change for the dome of silence, but it wasn't nearly enough to do everything she wanted. Spending more time wandering the streets looking for a gang to do business with was one option, but it wasn't a great one. Finding Foot Long and Clumsy had been a remarkable stroke of luck already. If she was lucky, they'd start spreading the word among people they knew. But to do it twice in the same week, that was unlikely.
If they'd bought the weapons as well as the dome, she would have had enough to work with, but as it was, she was going to be in trouble.
“There's only one thing I can do,” she said, “I've gotta rob a bank.”
Saturday, October 15th, 2016
Afternoon
“Well that sucked,” Natalie muttered to herself while waiting for the server to come back with her food.
She'd spent all day going around the city looking for supplies, the basic things weren't that hard to get, her backpack was full of cables, electronic parts, portable speakers, and a nice little electronic tool set. She could start working on the innards of some of her devises with that.
But most of her big plans needed things that she couldn't buy without the proper licenses, and a seventeen year old high school dropout wasn't about to get those licenses anytime soon. Without at least some nitric acid, sodium perchlorate, and about half a dozen other restricted chemicals, she wouldn't be able to improve her cybernetics. She had three formulas and plans that would cover the notes that played every time she moved her legs and arm, but they all required things she couldn't get legally.
This was worse than when she was back home and had to carefully steal everything she needed while her parents were at work. She had complete freedom to do what she wanted, but not enough money or supplies to actually do anything.
Even worse, if she successfully robbed a bank, she still couldn't get the most important things. Where did the other supervillains get their stuff?
Her angry thoughts were cut off with the arrival of food. Digging into her meal she began planning.
Phoenix College
Sunday, October, 16th, 2016
Noon
Forte strolled through the college campus, humming to herself, trying to look inconspicuous. She was wearing a black wig and had carefully done her makeup to look older, she also had her large backpack seemingly holding books, pens and other things. The campus wasn't very active, most of the students and staff were off doing something for the weekend or were inside eating lunch.
This wasn't her first time at the campus. When she had been fourteen, she'd taken a summer course on contemporary music that was open to a small number of Arizona teens. She allowed herself a small smile at the happy memory of playing in a band of equally talented kids her own age. Of course that had been topped a year later when she and her parents had the opportunity to visit the Yale School of Music and talk to several of the music professors. They hadn't guaranteed her a spot after graduating high school, but they'd told her to apply there first.
The smile dropped from her face. Applying to college wasn't in her future anymore, now she was simply robbing them.
“Focus, Forte,” she said, scolding herself. “You cannot screw this up. Who ever heard of a supervillain being arrested robbing a college?”
She came to the Dalby building, home of the science department. Humming once more, she tried the door and found it unlocked. She'd thought it would be, presumably professors and students would want to access the building for different reasons, but she hadn't been sure. It would have been embarrassing to be stopped by a single locked door.
Now came the big problem, finding the supply room. She'd looked for a detailed map before coming, but for some reason they hadn't marked down the room holding dangerous chemicals for the general public. So she resorted to the old fashion method, walking down the halls casually looking at doors until she found the right one.
The room she was looking for was on the second floor. Marking it down in her mind she kept walking, looking into each room with an open door to see if anyone was around. Satisfied that she was alone, Forte raised her right hand pointing it down the hallway and let loose a high pitched whine. The hallway lights went out, and so did any security cameras that might be recording things.
Jogging to the storage room she put her hand against the door and released another whine which would destroy any alarms on the door itself. Kneeling down, Forte switched most of the remaining power in her cybernetic arm into its strength, made a fist and punched the door handle. Her arm moved far more rapidly than a natural one could, breaking not only the handle but leaving a fair sized hole where the handle used to be.
Rushing inside, she began reading the labels of the various bottles that were stored neatly around the room. The ones she needed went into her bag. She had to rip open a few locked cabinets to find the more dangerous chemicals, like mercury, but even with that delay she was out of the room in less than three minutes.
Walking back across campus with her bag full of chemicals, Forte forced herself to be casual. As long as no one stopped her before she got on the bus, her first crime had gone flawlessly. Unfortunately, her right arm was almost out of power after all of that. It wasn't quite dead weight, but she wouldn't want to rely on it for anything important. If she got into a fight now, she'd have to activate her suit to have a chance.
Fortunately no one stopped her, and once she was on the bus she was able to lean back and relax.
Goodkind Bank, Downtown Phoenix
Monday, October, 17th, 2016
Mid-morning
Forte hummed to herself as she waited in line. Between looking for supplies, robbing the college she hadn’t had as much time to prepare for the bank robbery as she’d have liked, but having spent an hour watching the bank, she decided it was a safe bet, especially with her disguise. Instead of being a punk girl with short brown hair, she looked like a proper young woman, with shoulder length blonde hair, an ankle length beige skirt, a white blouse, a light brown vest, a cross hanging from her neck, and a pair of thin white cotton gloves.
The bank wasn't very busy, which could be good or bad, depending on what happened in the next few minutes. She decided to take it as a good sign, there was less chance of anyone stopping her if things did go wrong.
Stepping up to the teller, she put on her brightest smile. “Hello there. I'd like to make a withdrawal please.”
She held a check size piece of paper where the teller could read it. 'Please fill two envelopes with cash, and do not leave my sight.'
The tellers eyes widened a little, but she didn't panic. Forte breathed a sigh of relief at that, if anyone started screaming about a robbery there wasn't much she could do except run for it. She kept smiling and hummed pleasantly to herself, trying to act as normal as possible.
The teller did as she was told, and placed two large envelopes on the counter, they looked quite thick. Placing her right hand on the envelopes there was a momentary whine that made her teeth ache, then she put them and the note in her oversized bag. “Thank you very much and god bless,” she said.
Heading for the doors, she forced herself to walk normally and to keep her eyes on the door. She couldn't screw things up now. She picked up the pace once she was outside, taking a turn at the first opportunity.
Taking a hat from her bag she pulled the wig off and put the hat on in one smooth motion. The wig went into the bag. She pulled her blouse up, unbuttoned it and tied it up to show off her stomach and breasts better. Then she pulled at her skirt, the hidden seam let go and she was suddenly wearing a mini skirt and white stockings. The tear away fabric was quickly folded and placed in her bag. Finally she put on a pair of John Lennon sunglasses. The only things that she kept unchanged were the cotton gloves and the vest.
One or two people were looking at her oddly for the quick change, but no one stopped her. A police car raced past, sirens blaring, she watched it go past and grinned when they never gave her a second glance.
She began to skip to the bus stop and a minute later was on a bus heading well away from the scene of the crime.
Late Afternoon
Sitting in her hotel room, Natalie had her ill-gotten goods out on the bed, counting her earnings.
“Four thousand eight hundred seventy,” she said, putting the last bill down in the proper pile. “Damn! I should rob banks more often.” It wasn't a fortune, but it was more money than she'd ever personally had, and far more than she'd ever held in her hand. Best of all her expenses had been minimal, just some new clothes and a wig.
Then she looked at another much smaller pile. This one contained a dye pack, and two very small GPS transmitters; they'd been disabled in the bank thanks to her in-built devise. Her grin got bigger thinking of how frustrating that must have been for the police and the bank. The parts and dye could be useful as well, looking over blueprints online was one thing, having the actual electronics to study was infinitely better.
Turning on the news, she saw that while her robbery wasn't the top story, it was being mentioned. The police and the public were looking for a blonde teenager, which made her laugh with delight. She had been pretty certain her plan would succeed, she'd studied enough bank robberies before coming to Phoenix, but she hadn't thought it would go so well.
This was definitely a reason to celebrate.
Musical Instrument Museum
Tuesday, October, 17th, 2016
Early Morning
Natalie felt truly at home for the first time in over a year. Looking at the hundreds of instruments that filled the gallery, music filled her mind, and her fingers twitched, eager to play along. She'd been here many times as a child, every time her family had come to Phoenix, she'd begged them to take her to the music museum.
A class of young students was slowly making its way through the museum, heading towards the Experience Gallery. She decided to follow along, remembering how much she'd enjoyed it when she was their age.
In the large gallery were instruments from all around the world, percussion and string instruments, accordions, singing bowls, keyboards and pianos, and unique, one of a kind machines that produced musical notes. Museum staff were showing the children how to use each one, making sure they didn't damage anything, and chuckling as the children made a racket that they claimed was music.
Natalie went to a clear space near the harps and sat down to watch. She remembered being like them once, but she hadn't been content to just make noise. She'd practised at home, at school, on the bus. First she had sung, then she'd gotten piano lessons, then the violin and guitar, and then she'd insisted on more exotic instruments, harps, the bamboo flute, and more.
Her fingers stroked the string of a harp.
“Can you play?”
She almost jumped, she hadn't seen or heard the young boy come over as she'd been lost in thought. “I used to, I can't anymore,” she said.
“Why not?” he asked.
She raised her gloved right hand. “I got hurt.”
“Oh. This museum is boring,” he said, in the typical bluntness of children.
“You don't like music?”
He shrugged.
“Would you like to hear a song?” she asked.
“I thought you couldn't play?” he said.
“I can play a little,” she admitted.
He sat on the floor, looking up at her, still looking bored but willing to listen.
Taking off her glove, he let out a gasp at the faintly glowing swooping lines and whirls the covered it. She gently whistled, causing the metal fingers to sharpen into tiny talons. “OK, I haven't played a harp in over a year, so don't laugh if I make a mistake.”
He nodded, his eyes glued on her hand.
She began strumming, running her finger over the strings. “This is Peruvian harp, It's lighter than a European harp, and you play it more like a guitar,” she said. The boy probably wouldn't remember what she said, but she couldn't resist passing on a bit of what she knew and loved.
Her left hand quickly remembered what it was supposed to do, plucking the strings with her fingernails. Her right hand wasn't so cooperative. She winced as the fingers refused to move as quickly or as smoothly as they should. It took a minute to work out the pattern of muscle movements that allowed her to at least move her fingers in something resembling the proper order.
She began playing a simple lullaby, anything more complicated was impossible for her now. Closing her eyes, she let the music overtake her. When she finished the song, she immediately began another one. The mistakes rang loudly in her ears, but simply holding an instrument again and making some music, no matter how simple, made her smile.
Opening her eyes, she realized she had an audience. Several children were now sitting around her, listening to her play and a few of the adults were coming over as well. Backing away from the harp she tried to put her glove on, but it caught on her talons.
“That was really good,” a museum worker said. “You've had professional training?”
“A little,” she replied, putting her right hand behind her back.
“Can you play anything else?” a little girl asked.
“No, I don't think so,” Natalie said, still trying to put her glove on, before anyone saw her cybernetics .
The worker looked at her more closely. “Hey aren't you Natalie Foster?”
“What?!”
“I remember you now. You used to come in here a few times a year and try to play every instrument, I watched you perform two years ago at the Young Musicians Concert,” he said.
She remembered that concert. She'd done so well she was supposed to go to the next one, but then the accident happened. “I'm sorry you have the wrong person.”
“Why is your hand glowing?” a child asked.
Natalie turned to see several children leaning in close to look at her hand. Putting her hands back in front of her, she gave the glove a hard yank. The fabric was shredded by the talons. The adults could clearly see it now.
“What is that?”
“Is she a mutant?”
“Are those claws?”
Natalie pulled her sleeve down trying to cover her hand that way. “I should go,” she said, ducking her head and practically racing for the exit to escape the questions and looks. She called an Uber as soon as she was outside, and hid her hand inside her purse until she was back in her hotel room.
Sitting on the bed, she stared at her hand. It wasn't good enough. It needed to be better. She needed to be better.
“I need proper tools and a workshop,” she said. “I'm going to need more money.”
Bank of America
Wednesday, October, 17th, 2016
Late Morning
Forte, now with black hair and black gloves, looked fairly ordinary in faded, stretchy jeans, a beaded black jacket and a black backpack, smiled at the teller as she held up her bank robbery note. As expected the teller filled the two envelopes with money and handed them over. Using her inbuilt devise to break any electronics that might be hidden in the money, Forte calmly slipped them into her backpack and walked out smiling.
If anyone had told her a year ago that she would become a successful two time bank robber, she would have laughed at them. Actually a year ago she probably would have cursed them out using every swear and insult she knew and then fallen even deeper into suicidal depression. Laughing quietly to herself, while still heading for the nearest side street, she marvelled at how much things had changed.
“Miss, I don't think you filled out the forms for that money,” a man said.
She didn't look around to see who had spoken to her, she didn't pause in shock, she didn't even start thinking of excuses, she simply started running as fast as she could down the street. She managed to make it all of five steps when she stepped on an empty bottle and her foot went up, and she went down, painfully landing on her back.
Blinking spots of pain from her eyes, she looked up at a masked man. She groaned in disgust, his grey mask that gave the impression of rabbit ears was distinctive, she was dealing Jackalope. He was a street level crime fighter, who could screw with peoples luck. It was usually something minor, hitting a traffic jam, coming to a locked door, a gun misfiring, running into a cop, or tripping on something.
“I was trying to catch the bus, think you can help me get a lift to the Arts District?” she asked, not getting up and hoping to buy time for the pain to stop.
“No, I'm going to have to insist you come with me to the police station. Then we can see about getting you a lawyer,” he paused, looking at her a bit more closely, “or your parents. How old are you?”
Ignoring the question, Forte started to roll onto her knees and stopped with a groan that was one hundred percent real. Raising her left hand, she asked, “Can you give me a hand? I think I might have sprained something.”
He eyed her very carefully before moving to help her. She tried to keep her eyes on the ground avoiding him and the onlookers, trying to look ashamed. She kept her right hand close to her side as if it were hurt. His grip was very firm, and he pulled her upright extremely easily. She stumbled a little, getting in closer than he planned.
Her right hand lashed out, aiming for his head, her sleeper devise already humming.
He stepped out of the way, giving her a little push so she landed on her hands and knees. The growing crowd of onlookers burst out laughing. “This is getting embarrassing,” Jackalope said. “If you keep this up, you're not only going to get hurt, but you'll get charged with assault. You're a teen, you give up now, you can get off with some time in juvie and a lot of community service.”
Forte whistled. The beads on her jacket popped off revealing sonic metal which covered the lining of her coat. Her wig was pushed off by the flowing metal that formed a helmet over her head. Her left arm gained a clawed gauntlet and armour all along it. Her cybernetic arm was covered in twisted strands of metal and her fingers grew to reach her knees becoming supple and whip-like. The crowd backed away in shock and fear.
Jackalope had jumped back and pulled a metal baton from his belt in the few seconds it took for the armour to form. “OK, now things have gotten serious,” he said. “But you still haven't hurt anyone, we can deal with this peacefully. I'll help you out with the MCO, and get you a fair deal with the prosecutor. You're young, you've made some mistakes, but it doesn't have to be the end of the world.”
Forte tried to keep her emotions under control. This was not what she wanted. If she'd just managed to touch his head she'd have been home free. Now she had to fight, and she had no idea how to actually do that.
Police sirens wailed.
There was only one option for her.
The yellow flowing lines of her suit became brighter, a loud rumbling came from the metal. “EVERYONE!” she shouted. “Get back!”
The onlookers hurriedly moved away. The smarter ones kept going, the ones aiming for a Darwin award only backed up a few yards.
Jackalope didn't move. “The police are here, and I just called the Phoenix Warriors. If you-”
“Time to make a noise in the world,” she whispered.
The rumbling stopped, replaced by a subsonic noise that the human ear couldn't detect. The sound waves spread out from the suit, glass cracked from the vibrations. As the waves hit the crowd, people recoiled, retching and vomiting, some fell to their knees and soiled themselves. Those who were far enough away merely gagged as their guts and bones began to vibrate.
Jackalope somehow stayed upright, but he was bent over, noisily throwing up. All around him lights flickered, doors slammed open and shut, and electronics went haywire. Even when the subsonics stopped a few seconds later, he couldn't stop vomiting. Stepping towards him, Forte gently brushed her long fingers across his mask. He collapsed to the sidewalk, asleep and dead to the world.
Looking around she saw several police cars had stopped well away from her. A soft note in her ear informed her that her suit was low on power. She took off running.
Phoenix Warriors HQ
Early Afternoon
Jackalope, wearing a pair of sweats while his costume was washed, sipped a can of ginger ale, trying to make his stomach stop doing flip flops. There was a knock on the door, a few seconds later the door to the guest bedroom opened up and Lolomi, leader of the Phoenix Warriors stepped inside. He didn't look like much at the moment wearing a basic turquoise, white, and yellow uniform with a large domino mask that didn’t cover his greying, black hair. But his uniform wasn't really important. When the origin hero activated his power very little could actually harm him, and he would be hard to miss.
“Hey Iggy. How are you feeling?” Lolomi asked.
“Like I had an all you can eat smorgasbord from a shitty Chinese restaurant dumpster in July,” Jackalope said. “What the hell did she hit me with?”
“Janet is pretty sure it was a sonic attack. Non-lethal but very incapacitating, and you got hit twice. First by the one that did a number on your stomach and then by another that basically put you to sleep.”
“That shouldn’t have worked. I have earplugs that block sonics,” he said.
Taking a seat, Lolomi said, “According to Janet the attacks bypassed your ears. The sound waves hit your body and made your bones vibrate. Regular sonic protection is useless against it.”
“Damn. Did she hurt anyone after I went down?” he asked.
Lolomi shook his head. “No. There were about a dozen people who got hit like you, a few of them needed a change of clothes, they got anti-nausea medicine if they needed it and were released. You got it worse because you were so close. After taking you out, she took off running, losing the police by entering a building, where she did something that took out all the electronics in her immediate area. We suspect she dropped the armour and ran away with everyone else in the chaos.”
“Yeah, that sounds like something she'd do,” Jackalope said.
That earned a questioning look.
“I only dealt with her today,” Jackalope said, “but she is definitely not a fighter. I saw her attack coming a mile away, and even with her scary suit she used that vomit attack instead of going hand to hand. Anyone with some training and a suit like that would give me a run for my money.”
“So she's some scared kid, who can't entirely use her powers or tech?”
“She isn't scared. She knows what she can and can't do and had a plan. You saw the videos from the first robbery, she was calm, acted naturally, and did a quick change to throw off pursuit. When I caught her, she didn't act scared. She tried to run, then to trick me, and only when they all failed did she pull out her big guns. As soon as I was out, she escaped, apparently with a plan for that as well.” He shook his head. “That is not something a scared or stupid teenager does.”
Lolomi scratched his chin, thinking it over. “Did she reveal anything? Like a name?”
“Nothing like that. She mentioned the Art District, I'd be shocked if she was actually staying there. She looked to be about seventeen or eighteen, but with mutants she could be thirteen or forty. Still I'd say late teens from how she acted. When she activated her armour she whistled, and you said she used a sonic attack? So a devisor who specializes in sonics?” he thought out loud.
“A devisor is my first guess as well, but let's not get too far ahead of ourselves just yet, this could be a shifter, magic, a manifestor, an experiment, someone with stolen or borrowed tech, a non-human entity, it could even be a GSD case using something to look baseline. Remember the Devil of Dallas?”
Jackalope winced at the memory of that fiasco. Too many people had died thinking they were simply dealing with a powerful mutant, who had turned out to be a Class X entity.
“Janet hasn't found any reports of someone like her,” Lolomi continued. “Armour covered in glowing yellow lines isn't exactly subtle, so she's almost certainly new to the scene. A search of MIDs didn't come up with any teens or adults like her either. We could be missing something there, but right now it's the best we can do. So barring robots and non-human entities, we're probably dealing with a teen, possibly thrown out of their house, a runaway, or an experiment. They likely gained their powers within the last few months to five years. Not a fighter. Smart and likes to plan. Cool under pressure. Trying to be secretive, but willing and able to throw down. Fortunately, she doesn't seem to want to hurt people, but she will use area of effect attacks.” Lolomi frowned. “We'll want the experts to really dig into things to create a proper profile, but I don't like this. If we don't get her under wraps, we could end up with a competent supervillain.”
That was not a pleasant thought. Phoenix already had enough problems trying to keep the cartels from breaking into open warfare or becoming a serious threat to civilians, along with regular high crime and supervillains. Adding another threat would just stretch them that much further. And if the girl was a runaway who thought she didn't have any other choice, Jackalope didn't want to let her fall into crime.
“What can we do about her?” he asked.
“If she's just getting some funds to leave town, she's probably already gone, so we can't do much besides spreading the word. If she's planning on sticking around we need to catch her quickly and cleanly. Since we don't know her exact powers or origin, I'll put out the word that if she is spotted we try to avoid going after her solo. Follow her, track her to wherever she's laying low and call in reinforcements.” He paused for a few moments, closing his eyes in thought.
“If she's a non-human, we hand her over to the DPA. Provided we can take her alive or are willing to try,” Lomoni said, his expression grim. “If she's a teenager, she's our problem. She's probably too old to ship off to Whateley, but she's smart. If she's willing to play ball, I can pull some strings and get her working for us under probation and house arrest. Butter her up a bit, get Mogollon and Sun Hawk to be friendly. If she's a devisor or gadgeteer, have Janet offer to mentor her. If she's a mage I'll talk Old Scratch into teaching her and playing nice. Then we could get her on our side. By the time she's twenty-one she'll be a free woman, hopefully with a life and a job with us or someone we trust, and we can all celebrate by taking her out for her first official drink.”
“And how likely do you think that is?”
“It's Phoenix, if this doesn't blow up in our faces I'll have to pinch myself,” the hero said.
South Mountain, Phoenix, Arizona
Mid-Afternoon
Foot Long woke up to someone banging on his door. Wincing at the light coming in through the window, he grabbed his pistol, shoved it into his boxers, and went to the door. “Who is it?” he shouted.
“It's me, Clumsy. Open up man, got something to show ya.”
Opening the door, he went and grabbed two beers from his fridge. “What do you want, man? It's too early in the day to be awake.”
Taking the second beer, Clumsy pulled out his phone. “Like I said, I got something to show ya. You'll love this shit.”
“Damn well better,” he said.
Rubbing gunk out of his eyes, Foot Long saw the hero Jackalope shouting at some cute girl, who took off running only to fall on her ass a moment later. He smirked at the sight, he'd had something like that happen to him the last time he'd met the asshole, but at least his humiliation hadn't been recorded. “OK, some chick is getting humiliated, why do I have to watch it?” he asked, as the girl was pushed to the ground.
“Watch,” Clumsy said.
Seeing the girl turn into an armoured monster, covered in yellow lines, jolted him awake. “Shit! That's Forte! Damn did she get aw-” He shut up as her suit lit up, followed by Jackalope throwing up and collapsing to the ground.
“Holy shit. She wasn't fucking joking about how tough she is,” he said. A wave of relief swept over him that she hadn't taken his threats personally.
“She said one of her weapons is a boom- something. Makes people want to shit themselves and vomit. I want them,” Clumsy said. “If she isn't in jail tonight, give her a call and set something up.”
Foot Long nodded. “Are we going to need them soon?” he asked.
Clumsy gave one of his nasty little smiles that he only used when he had a really good plan. “Oh yeah. We're gonna make a whole lotta cash.”
East Tempe, Arizona
“Dae-Jung, come here,” Sun Hawk called.
The Mogollon Monster came out of their shared bedroom, with one of his graphic novels held in an enormous hand. “Shouldn't you have left for class, June?”
“Yeah, I'm late, but I've been looking over the email the boss sent and somethings bugging me,” she said, moving to the side so he could look at her laptop.
He knelt down and wrapped his arm around her, giving her an indecent squeeze as he looked at the screen. It was a close up of the new supervillains face. “What am I looking at?”
“Doesn't she look familiar to you?”
“Can't really say, all of you hairless, little apes look the same to me,” he said, grinning at her.
She flicked his ear. “I'm being serious here. I've seen that face somewhere, I'm sure of it.”
Studying the face more closely he still couldn't place it. “We were meeting and talking to hundreds of people last week with that stupid mall PR stunt. You're probably mistaking her for one of them.”
Frowning, she leaned back in her chair. “Maybe. But this is annoying me! And that PR stuff isn't stupid, it's a good way to meet and greet the public, let them know who we are and that we aren't scary. You even gained some fans.”
“Sure,” he said. “Now you're late for class, get going.”
“I'm not late, yet.” She closed down her laptop and went looking for her book bag. “I'll just have to fly to school. I can be there in no time.”
Mogollon looked upwards seeking strength. “Have you ever heard of a secret identity?”
“I'm openly dating you, honey,” she said. “To the assholes I'm already evil. It won't be much worse if they know I'm a mutant to. And if they try anything against me, I have a legitimate reason to kick their ass. Now while I'm gone, really think about that girl.” She saw him grin. “Not in that way! But I know I've seen her recently, so you probably did to.”
He opened the window so she could fly out. “I will think very hard about her and if anything pops up I'll let you know.”
“Thanks, I'll be back in time for supper,” she said, jumping out the window and flying off to the college.
“Now where was I?” he asked himself, heading back to the comfort of the king sized bed and his book.
Late Afternoon
Sitting alone at a table, sipping on some chocolate milk, Natalie was finally able to relax. It had been a few hours since her run-in with Jackalope and she was still nervous, but it was manageable now. She hadn't taken off her jacket, which was now covered in musical notes that had a silvery appearance, but she was no longer constantly looking over her shoulder.
She knew that going back to the hotel was the smart idea. Her suit was almost out of power, she had thousands of dollars worth of stolen money in her bag, and there was currently a manhunt searching for her. But she couldn't be sure that the police weren't there waiting for her. Even going into the cafe had been difficult. Only exhaustion and the risk of heat stroke if she kept wandering the streets had made her go inside.
The TV that was playing in the background caught her eye. A reporter was interviewing someone, while her fight with Jackalope played in the background. Taking her things she got closer to hear what they were saying about her.
“-mutant likely suffers from Diedrick's Syndrome. It's a common problem for those who have manifested, making them act irrationally and usually violently.”
“So this supervillain is a danger to the public?” the reporter asked.
“Most definitely. We saw that she was willing to use a dangerous weapon that affected onlookers without any care for their wellbeing. And over what? A few thousand dollars. Her suit is clearly developed for battle, if it wasn't for the warning that the Phoenix Warriors were on the way, it's reasonable to assume she would have done something truly violent,” the interviewee said.
The reporter nodded in agreement. “What about the mutants parents, do you believe they may be supporting her?”
“That is harder to say. Often mutants run away from home, not wanting to live under the restrictions of regular society. Other times the parents will believe that the world is out to get their child, and attempt to keep them hidden away from the MCO and the public,” he paused to let the audience absorb the news. “In this case I believe it's reasonable to assume she is a runaway, quite likely having injured or even murdered her parents in one of her rages.”
Natalie almost burst out laughing at that. Watching them talk about her, making so many assumptions about her life and how dangerous she was, with absolutely no facts was interesting, much like watching a car crash.
Returning to her seat, she thought about the interview.
She knew she was a supervillain. She wasn't going to lie to herself that she had no choice, or that she was doing it for the greater good. She wanted money and power. So ultimately what the so-called expert said didn't matter, neither did public perception. She wouldn't hurt anyone on a whim, she wasn't a monster, but she wouldn't flinch from it either. Today she had gotten lucky. Against a tougher superhero or one who wasn't nice enough to try to get her to surrender she would almost certainly have been knocked out and sent to prison. Any superhero she dealt with in the future would take the gloves off right away.
There was only one solution, she had to become stronger and better.
A grin slowly formed.
She had made mistakes today, but they allowed her to see her weak spots, and she had ultimately succeeded. Learning how to overcome her weaknesses was simply a matter of time and effort. It wouldn't be easy, but she would manage it just like she'd managed everything else. The world had already thrown the worst it possibly could at her, destroying her body and her dreams. So she'd made herself a new body, now all that was left was achieving her new dream.
“Watch out world,” Forte whispered, “I'm coming for you.”
