A Whateley Academy Tale
Imp 9: An Imp-eriled Heart
by
Morpheus
Part Two
Rochester NY, Saturday afternoon, Dec 29th 2007
Chris sat in cold silence, his entire being numb with shock. Over the past two days, he’d lost absolutely everything, and it was all because of one drunk driver… because some idiot had gotten behind the wheel of his car after having too much to drink.
Images of the car crash flashed through Chris’ mind, just as they had countless times since the accident. It had been so fast…so sudden. One moment everything had been fine, and the next… In the next moment, his life had been destroyed.
His parents had both died on impact while his mutant powers had protected him from the worst of it. When he’d been pried out of the wreckage, Chris only had a couple of broken bones and some lacerations, but those had all healed up within a couple hours, leaving him without a single physical scar. However, the wounds through the rest of his being were still fresh and bleeding.
After the accident, things had continued to worsen in a way that Chris never would have expected. With his parents having just died, there was the question of what would happen to him. However, every one of his relatives, his aunts, uncles, and grandparents, had all said that they couldn’t take him in. What they really meant was that they wouldn’t.
Chris had no doubts as to why his relatives had turned their backs on him when he’d needed them most. Maybe, if he’d just been adopted…or had just been a mutant, they still might have accepted him, but with his being both… That was just too much for them to accept.
Now, Chris was sitting in the front office of the local Child Protective Service, waiting for something, though he wasn’t quite sure what. And at that moment, he was too numb to really care.
Mrs. Keller, the CPS agent who was in charge of him, sat behind her desk a short distance away. She was a middle-aged woman with a sour expression, who kept giving him looks of distaste.
“Someone will be here to pick you up, shortly,” Mrs. Keller told Chris, looking just a little too satisfied for his comfort.
Chris merely nodded at that, not knowing who was going to pick him up and not caring enough to ask. He assumed it was probably some other CPS official, taking him off to some orphanage or foster home.
“It’s no wonder your relatives didn’t want you,” Mrs. Keller abruptly mused. “Who in their right mind would want a dangerous mutant around their kids?”
Chris winced at that. “Not relatives,” he muttered, reminding himself just as much as he was telling her. “I was adopted, so they were never really my relatives.”
He scowled, remembering the way a couple of his ‘cousins’ used to tease him about being adopted. Now, he wondered if they might have gotten that attitude from their parents. Considering how quickly the adults had abandoned him, that would make sense.
“At least the MCO will take you off my hands soon enough,” Mrs. Keller said.
“The MCO?” Chris asked, suddenly sitting up and becoming more alert.
Mrs. Keller gave him a smug look and practically sneered. “Of course, the MCO. They’re the ones responsible for looking after mutant children. We certainly can’t put you anywhere near normal children.”
“But…,” Chris started to protest.
“You are a dangerous mutant freak,” Mrs. Keller continued her building rant, completely ignoring Chris’ growing concern. Instead, his distress only seemed to fuel her even more. “It would be irresponsible to let one of your kind anywhere near real people… No one wants your kind around.” Then she gave him an even more malicious look as she rubbed it in more and pointedly told him, “No one wants YOU.”
Those words struck Chris like a physical blow as they struck the heart of his long-standing insecurities, which had only been reinforced by the recent events.
“WRONG,” a new voice suddenly announced. “I want him.”
Chris quickly looked to the door, where a woman had just entered. She wore a professional looking outfit with black slacks and a jacket, and her long hair was a shade of brown so dark that it nearly looked black.
There was something about this woman that seemed familiar, though Chris had no idea where he might possibly know her from. He didn’t think he knew her.
“Who are YOU?” Mrs. Keller demanded, glaring at this woman who’d just interrupted her rant.
The mysterious woman straightened up and fixed Mrs. Keller with a flat look. “My name is Christine Kade,” she stated firmly. “And I am his birth mother.”
Rochester NY, Saturday afternoon, Dec 29th 2007
“My name is Christine Kade,” I stated as I glared at the obnoxious woman in front of me, “And I am his birth mother.”
It felt extremely strange to say this aloud, both to be using my real name when I wasn’t in my artist persona, and to actually claim Chris as my own. I’d spent so long separating myself from that name and from my relationship to Chris, that I almost felt a flutter of panic.
Chris sat off to the side, staring at me with his mouth dropped open. At any other time, I’d take the time to tease him about that expression, maybe even taking pictures to rub it in later. However, this was definitely not the time nor circumstance for that kind of thing.
While this woman was gaping at me, I looked her over, taking in all the important details. Those, along with what I’d overheard upon entering the office, told me everything that I needed to know about her and her motives.
I quickly glanced at the name plaque on the desk, which read ‘MRS KELLER’. Now that I knew who I was dealing with, I slapped a folder full of paperwork down on her desk in front of her.
“This is all the legal paperwork to give me full custody over Chris,” I told Keller while keeping my tone flat and even. “Including a court order for him to be turned over to me immediately.”
“WHAT?” Keller and Chris both blurted out at the same time.
This paperwork was all real and legal, even if a few less than legal methods might have been used to cut through all the red tape in time. As soon as Carson knew what was going on and what I intended, she pulled on a few strings and called in a couple favors. And though I couldn’t prove anything, nor would I even attempt to do so, but I was sure that Hartford had done a bit of her magic at Carson’s request as well.
“It’s all there,” I told Keller, still not looking at Chris. “All official.”
Keller glared at me. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re wasting your time. This boy is not leaving with you.”
“The court order says otherwise,” I pointed out sweetly. My illusionary disguise hid my real features, including my tail twitching sharply.
“The MCO is taking custody of the boy,” Keller insisted. “They’ll be here within the hour.”
I bit my lip and refrained from doing what I really wanted to do at that moment. Violence had never been my first response to trouble. In fact, my first response was usually either mockery or escape, but neither of those would work in this situation either, at least not quite yet.
So, with a heroic demonstration of patience, I held up a single finger and told her, “The MCO does not have the legal authority to take custody of a minor who has not been charged with any crime.” I held up a second finger. “You do not have the legal authority to give him to the MCO or anyone else without the proper legal authority.” A third finger went up, though I also pointed to the folder that I’d placed on her desk. “This means that you ARE legally required to give him to me. Failure to do so will not only get you charged with violating a court order, but also sued for everything you have.”
Keller jumped to her feet and glared at me. “Now, listen here,” she started.
However, before she could charge into whatever rant she was about to go into, I held up the fourth finger. “And of course, all that legal trouble isn’t even taking into account what the mutant community might do if word gets out that you gave Chris to the MCO. I imagine that some of them might decide to hold you personally responsible for such a thing.”
I gave her my best predatory smile. And while my real features might have been hidden at the moment, that was still enough to make her pale and back away.
“You…you can’t threaten me,” Keller said, though she was shaking a bit.
“No threats,” I pointed out, once again keeping my tone sweet and friendly…with a sharp edge. “I am just pointing out the consequences of ignoring a legal court order. And if you happen to anger other people in the process…well…I have absolutely no control over what random people might decide to do on their own.”
Normally, I wasn’t one to give a damn about the law, much less use it to my own purposes, so this was quite the exception. Of course, this was probably the only time I’d ever had the law on my side, or at least, had someone like a judge who would make sure it was actually enforced.
Keller glared at me with pure hate in her expression. Then without another word, she quickly signed the paperwork that officially transferred custody of Chris to me.
“Now get out of here,” Keller ordered. “I don’t want to see either of you ever again.”
“It was a pleasure doing business with you,” I lied before finally turning my attention to Chris.
Chris was no longer sitting, having stood up sometime during our exchange. He was watching me with an expression of confusion and stunned disbelief.
“Come on,” I gently told him. “If you have any belongings here, you’d better grab them quick.”
He hesitated a moment before holding up a plastic grocery bag that didn’t seem to hold much more than spare underwear and some toiletries. “Just this.”
“Then let’s get out of here,” I told him, shooting a quick glance at Keller.
Chris didn’t recognize me through my disguise, but after giving his own quick look at Keller, he quickly followed me anyway. Once we’d stepped out the door, we both let out sighs of relief.
“I’ll have someone pick up your stuff from your old house,” I told him as we walked across the parking lot. “It won’t be safe for us to go there ourselves.”
“What do you mean?” he asked quietly.
“Keller is watching us out the window,” I explained, being careful not to look back at her since I didn’t want her to realize that I was onto her. “She probably wants to get a good description of my car and maybe even a license plate number. You can bet that as soon as she gets that, she’ll call her friends in Humanity First.”
“What?” Chris gasped. “Humanity First?”
I nodded at that. “Yeah. Didn’t you see the H1 pin on her jacket? She tried giving you to the MCO, and when that didn’t work, she’ll probably try to get her friends on it.”
“Oh shit,” he gasped, only to pause and glance at me with a nervous chuckle. “I guess, as a friend of mine might say…pardon my French.”
“Perfectly understandable, considering the situation,” I told him with a chuckle.
Once we were in the car and pulling out of the parking lot, I relaxed just a little. However, I kept a close watch on the streets around us, specifically, I looked for any vehicles that might be following us.
Finally, Chris gave me a suspicious look and asked, “Are you really my birth mother?”
I hesitated for several seconds, feeling my throat close up before I was able to answer. “Yes,” I told him in a quiet voice. “This isn’t how I imagined our official reunion would go…and I am very sorry that it happened in these circumstances. I’m sorry for what happened to your family.”
Chris didn’t say anything in response, but he did keep looking at me, as though caught between trying to sneak glances and just outright staring. This whole situation was strange for me, and I could only imagine how much worse it would be for him.
After just a couple minutes, I pulled the car off the road and into a parking lot. “Grab your things,” I told Chris. “We’re switching cars.”
“What?” he asked in confusion. “Why?”
“I had a feeling that we’d need to avoid trouble,” I answered as I got out of the car. “So, I left another car here…as a precaution.”
We quickly moved to the second car that I’d positioned ahead of time and took off again. If either H1 or the MCO came looking for us, they’d be searching for the wrong car.
“That takes care of the critical part of our getaway,” I told Chris. “From here on out, the smart move would be to just head to my place as fast as possible. We could probably even get there before anyone finds that car…” I gestured back to the car I’d just left behind.
“Where are we going?” Chris cautiously asked.
“Manhattan,” I answered, taking my eyes off the road just long enough to look at him for a moment. “But considering the situation…” I paused for a moment. “I imagine you have a lot of questions, and I think we need to talk…sooner rather than later.”
The motel was cheap. Not ‘by the hour’ cheap, but not really a whole lot better. Still, it had the advantages of taking cash and not asking questions, both of which were valuable when people might be on the lookout for us.
Once I’d made sure our room was clear of bugs, of the surveillance variety if not the skittering type, and that there were no peepholes, I decided that it was time to get down to business. With that, I pulled out a bottle of bourbon and two glasses, where I poured us each a couple fingers.
“You’re going to want something to drink,” I told Chris, who was giving me odd looks. “I know I will.”
“I’m underage,” he pointed out, his tone adding a silent ‘duh’.
I rolled my eyes and reminded him, “You’re a regenerator, so you don’t have to worry about getting drunk.”
Chris stared at me with a look of surprise. “How did you…?”
“I think it’s about time to change into something a little more comfortable,” I said, abruptly cutting Chris off. I took off my professional suit jacket and set it aside.
“Um, what are you…?” Chris started to ask, suddenly looking extremely uncomfortable. I was about to make that even worse.
A moment later, I reached up to the magic pendant that I wore and deactivated it, turning off the illusion that disguised my real appearance. In an instant, my devilish good looks were visible once again.
“IMP!” Chris blurted out, his eyes going wide in surprise.
“That should answer the question of how I knew about your powers,” I told him with a wry smile.
Chris just stared at me for several long seconds before he seemed to deflate. “So, I guess you made all that stuff up about being my real mom.”
“No,” I responded quietly. “I didn’t.” At his look of doubt, I explained, “Every word I told you today is the absolute truth.”
Before Chris could say anything, I carefully set something down on the table beside us. It was a pendant on a chain, which contained a small glass vial with a metal cap. The vial itself contained some of Chris’ blood, blood that he’d willingly donated as part of a magic spell. As soon as I pulled my hand away from the pendant, it began sliding across the table all on its own, moving right towards me.
Chris froze, his eyes locked firmly onto the still moving pendant. “That’s…” His voice was shaky as he obviously recognized the item. “I lost that…”
“And I found it stuck to my shoe,” I said. “Grimes told me what it was…and helped me figure out whose blood was inside.” I chuckled weakly as I added, “It was…surprising.”
Of course, Grimes had helped me find Chris by temporarily reversing the magic of the pendant, but that had long since worn off and it was back to the way it had originally been made… to track down Chris’ close blood relatives. Namely, me.
“No way,” Chris squeaked out while I snatched up the pendant and gave it back to him. He held it up and confirmed that it was still gently pulling towards me, which proved that I had a strong blood connection to him. “But you’re…”
“My real name is Christine Kade,” I quietly told him. “Technically, it’s Candice Christine Kade…but I never liked my first name.”
Now Chris was staring at me with a look of stunned disbelief. “That name… My mom told me that she used to have a friend named that…”
“Yeah,” I said with a sigh as I sat down. “Suzie Q…your mom was my best friend when we were growing up. We were thick as thieves, well before I ever actually became one.” I gave him a self-conscious smile.
“She said that Candice…that you were dead,” Chris whispered.
I reached up and tapped one of my horns. “My parents were so embarrassed by these that they told everyone I was dead.” I picked up my glass of bourbon and took a sip. “And I was too embarrassed to contradict them.”
Chris nodded along as though understanding. Then again, maybe he did understand. Some of his friends and classmates had similar stories.
“When I was looking for someone I could trust,” I quietly told him, finding it hard to get out the words, “…to be the mother that I couldn’t…I immediately thought of my old best friend. I picked Suzie Q to be your mom.”
For several long seconds, Chris just stared at me before he finally said, “You… You really are my birth mom…” He looked and sounded completely shaken by that revelation, though he was taking it a little better than I’d expected. Then he grabbed his glass of bourbon and tried to down it in one gulp
Rochester NY, Sunday morning, Dec 30th 2007
I woke up in the morning after what had been a strange and awkward night for both Chris and myself. Sure, we’d slept in separate beds, but it had been in the same motel room, and in spite of our biological connection, until recently we had only been student and teacher.
It was uncomfortable to sleep this close to someone who was little more than an acquaintance, but we’d made it work for the night. This had mostly involved wearing clothes to bed and not looking too closely at each other as well.
But in spite of how awkward it had been to share sleeping arrangements like this, the day before had been strangely nice. Chris and I had just talked for hours. I told him a little about my past, about how I’d run away from home and had been homeless until I’d fallen in with the crew who taught me my profession. However, I’d been light on many details.
Most of what we talked about had been Suzie Q, my former best friend and his mother. At one point, she’d been my closest friend, and after decades apart, it had been great to talk with her again. It had felt right, like a missing piece of my life was finally back where it belonged. But now, right after we’d reconnected, she was gone for good.
Chris and I both grieved for the woman, though in very different ways. I’d lost a childhood friend while he’d lost the only mother he’d ever known. So, we mostly talked about her and her life.
I told Chris all about Suzie Q, the girl I’d known while growing up, long before he had ever been born. This was a side of her that he knew little about, so he listened in rapt attention as I regaled him with stories of our shared misadventures. A few of them, she’d already told him about herself, which helped to cement our history together.
Once I was awake and ready, I asked Chris, “How are you holding up?”
“Fine,” he answered in a voice that was drained of energy. Even I could tell that he wasn’t fine.
“You know, Bart,” I said, using the nickname that I’d given him back at Whateley when I’d first begun teaching him. I knew that it annoyed him, which was the point. I wanted to see if I could spark a bit more life back into him. “Staying here probably wasn’t very smart.”
Chris brightened up a bit, enough to give me a defiant glare. “If I’m Bart, then doesn’t that make you Marge?”
“D’oh,” I responded sharply, letting him feel like he’d won that exchange.
My eyes went to his hair, which was bleach blonde and spikey, the very thing that had earned him the nickname of ‘Bart’. “You know,” I thought aloud, “your hair is VERY distinctive… If anyone is on the lookout for us, they’ll be looking for that…”
“Oh,” he responded, self-consciously reaching up to touch his hair.
“I’ll get you a hat to cover that up with,” I told him with a nod, reaching up to activate my magic pendant so that I could hide my own appearance long enough to go out in public. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
With that, I slipped out of the motel room and quickly looked around the area, trying to see if there were any signs of suspicious activity, or of anyone watching us. I immediately spotted some suspicious activity, but more in the line of a small-time drug deal going down rather than anything related to me and Chris.
There was a gas station convenience store right across the street, which was exactly what I was looking for. It would be open first thing in the morning, and it would likely have a broad mix of crap, including breakfast items and cheap trucker hats.
Rochester NY, Sunday morning, Dec 30th 2007
Chris stared at the door that the Imp had just left from. The Imp. His mother. The birth mother he’d been curious about for his entire life had actually been right under his own nose for the last couple months, and he hadn’t had a single clue.
The whole situation seemed ridiculous, like some kind of weird prank. However, even the Imp wouldn’t play a prank like this. In fact, ever since she’d shown up and saved him from Mrs. Keller, she’d actually been surprisingly serious.
He didn’t know what to think of the situation or of his mother’s identity. On one hand, he was thankful to finally know who she was, but on the other hand… She was the Imp. She was a criminal…a former supervillain. She was also the teacher who’d helped him out more than any other teacher ever had.
Then he thought of the Imp again, and of the way she’d marched straight into Mrs. Keller’s office and stated that she wanted him. The way she spoke… It had been with absolute certainty, and a conviction that he couldn’t doubt, even if he didn’t understand it. After all, if she really had wanted him that badly, then why had she given him up in the first place?
“Mom,” Chris whispered, thinking not of his birth mother but of his real mom, the one who’d raised him. “Dad…”
Tears ran down his eyes as he thought of them and the fact that they were now gone for good. He’d never be able to see them again. And while he was happy to have discovered his birth mother, their loss was too great a price.
Chris staggered to the bathroom, thinking about what the Imp had said about changing his appearance. His hair style was too recognizable and could give him away to the people who were trying to find him.
“Like she isn’t recognizable,” he muttered. The horns, tail, and scales all stood out far more than his hair. Of course, she had that magic medallion which hid all that while he didn’t.
He stared at his reflection in the mirror, feeling a growing sense of frustration that broke through the shock he’d been feeling. He’d originally bleached his hair blonde so that he could fit in better with his family, so that it wouldn’t be as obvious that he’d been adopted.
Then on a sudden impulse, he threw open the medicine cabinet and looked at the contents, which had been left behind by some previous person. There was a small travel-sized tube of toothpaste, a toothbrush, a comb, and even a pair of electric clippers. Chris had discovered these things the night before and wondered if the room cleaners had ever bothered to look in there.
Chris grabbed the clippers and before he could think better of it, he turned them on and ran them over his head. Once, twice, and then a third time. He let out a loud howl of rage as he cut off his hair until it was all gone. Then he looked down into the sink, which was now covered with his blonde locks.
For a minute, Chris stood there, staring at his reflection again, the surge of emotion having burned out and leaving him feeling drained once again. With that, he turned away from the mirror, feeling just a tiny bit better for having let it all out like that.
Rochester NY, Sunday morning, Dec 30th 2007
I finished up and got back to the motel room about fifteen minutes after I’d left, but as I stood just outside the door, I heard a yell from inside. It didn’t sound like a yell of pain…at least not the physical kind. It sounded like someone yelling in grief, anger and frustration.
“Chris,” I whispered quietly.
I slowly opened the door, making sure to take my time with it and to make enough noise so that I didn’t catch him by surprise. But once I stepped inside, I realized that I was no longer hearing the cry of distress, but the sound of something buzzing in the bathroom.
“I’m back,” I called out. “I got you a hat.”
The buzzing stopped and Chris came out of the bathroom, holding a pair of electric clippers in his hand. I had no idea where he’d gotten them, unless he’d brought them with the rest of his toiletries in that plastic bag. However, what really caught my attention was his hair…or lack of it.
“I…I don’t need a hat anymore,” Chris said as he ran a hand over his head, which was now covered in dark stubble rather than his usual blonde spiky locks.
“I can see that,” I responded, deciding not to make a big deal about the hair…or about the fact that his eyes were red and a bit puffy, as though he’d been crying. After all, even I knew that this wasn’t really about the hair. This was probably about him feeling like he no longer had any control over his own life and seizing control over the one thing that he could control. “Well, you have a new hat anyway.”
Chris nodded and accepted the hat without a word. He looked tired, somewhere between being emotionally drained and defiant, possibly both at the same time.
“I got breakfast,” I announced, holding up the bag I’d brought with me. “Danishes and cheap breakfast sandwiches.” Then I held up the cup of coffee I’d bought for myself. “And I got myself a little go juice… Mmmmm, coffee…”
“Does that even do you any good?” Chris cautiously asked. “I mean, the caffeine. You’re a regenerator so…”
“So, caffeine doesn’t work on me much,” I agreed with a nod and another sip from the cup. “You should never underestimate the value of the placebo effect, especially as a regenerator. Sometimes, just going through the motions can help.”
“Oh,” he responded with a thoughtful look.
“Besides,” I added with a grin. “I like the taste.”
After this, we ate breakfast in silence. I was careful not to look too closely at Chris’ shaved head and he seemed to be doing the same with my horns and tail.
Even as we took time to eat, I couldn’t help but think about the fact that we’d stayed in the area a little too long. If we’d just continued driving yesterday, we could have gotten well ahead of any potential pursuers, escaping them before they’d even realized there was a chase. But now, we would have to deal with possible lookouts and active searches in the area. Still, I couldn’t regret having spent the time with Chris, especially since I’d always thought that I’d never even get to see my son again.
“SLUG BUG,” I called out as I carefully watched the other vehicles on the road.
Chris snorted at that, then asked, “Did you see Alyss’ new car?”
I smiled faintly, relieved to see that he was willing to interact again. Ever since we’d hit the road a short time ago, he’d been lost in his own thoughts.
“The monster truck?” I asked in amusement. “If a guy made a car like that, I’d joke about him compensating for something.”
Chris chuckled slightly. “She is kind of short.”
I nodded my agreement, thinking of his friend. Alyss, or Ribbon as she was also called, was an odd duck, and I meant that in the best sense of the word. Sure, she looked like she was only ten years old, which made her the target of some teasing among her classmates, but she understood my jokes and references a lot better than most of her peers.
“There,” I mused, spotting a car that was parked along the road. There was a prominent H1 sticker in the window. “Another one.”
Ever since we’d left the motel, I’d spotted a number of vehicles with Humanity First stickers, more than I normally would. It seemed that they were out in force, keeping a lookout for Chris and me. Or at least, I assumed that they were looking for us.
“We must have really pissed that Keller woman off,” I said with a chuckle. “It looks like she’s called in all her friends…”
I grinned evilly. The next time I was bored and looking for a ‘special friend’ to entertain me, her name would be up near the top of the list.
Chris self-consciously reached up and touched his head. “What if they recognize me?” Then he looked at me and asked, “Shouldn’t you wear a disguise too?”
“This is my disguise,” I reminded him wryly, gesturing down at myself and the illusion that hid my GSD. “Besides, I’m not distinctive enough to stand out when I’m like this. One hot looking brunette looks much like any other.”
We drove in silence for another minute before Chris awkwardly said, “A couple of my friends and I were talking about Humanity First awhile back. Alyss says that she thinks most of them aren’t really bad people, just people who are scared and trying to protect their families from potential threats that they don’t understand and feel powerless against.”
“That…might be true,” I admitted with a shake of my head. “But pretty much every interaction that I’ve ever had with them has been…negative.” I chuckled at that understatement. “Scared people can be dangerous…no matter how good they might be otherwise.”
Chris nodded. “Alyss says that all it takes is one or two angry assholes to rile up a bunch of people into doing things they normally wouldn’t.”
“And that is definitely true,” I agreed with a shake of my head. “Pretty much, every riot starts that way. The problem is, there are a lot of assholes in the world, and even the nicest person can become one, depending on the circumstances.”
“Yeah,” he responded with a deep sigh, “I guess that’s true.”
After this, we were both silent for several minutes before Chris abruptly changed the subject and asked, “If you’re my birth mom….then who is my dad?”
I nearly started to choke at that, and it was everything I could do to keep my eye on the road. After a few seconds, I cleared my throat and asked, “Have you ever heard of Captain Condom?”
Chris’ eyes went wide with a look of horror. “You’re kidding…”
“I’ve never met the guy,” I finished with a smirk.
Chris glared at me for several seconds before turning to stare out the window, apparently dropping the subject for the moment. That was a relief because I wasn’t ready to talk about that topic and wouldn’t be anytime soon.
“I call shotgun,” I announced as we walked across the parking lot back to the car.
“I don’t think it works that way when you’re the one driving,” Chris pointed out.
Chris and I had been on the road for several hours but hadn’t actually made it very far. Between holiday traffic, several bad accidents, and just general bad luck, we’d been stuck in an almost solid traffic jam for most of that entire time. That was why, by the time we stopped for lunch and a potty break, we’d barely made it fifteen miles from the motel.
“Spoilsport,” I teased him.
As we reached the car again, I noticed the way Chris gave it an unhappy look and hesitated at the door. Then it struck me. Just a few days ago, he’d been in a serious car crash that cost him the lives of his parents. That kind of thing left an impact, and the trauma sure as hell didn’t fade away that quickly. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a bit of PTSD related to cars now.
“So, he doesn’t really like riding in cars anymore,” I quietly muttered to myself with an ache in my heart. “Of all the things he could have inherited from me.”
We climbed into the car a few seconds later and I noticed a truck driving past. What I noticed was the MCO markings on the side. That was the second time I’d seen that truck in the past hour, or at least, one like it. The MCO still had a presence in the area and I didn’t know if it was related to Chris or not.
“We need to get out of here as soon as possible,” I said aloud, once again regretting that I hadn’t driven us a bit further away before we’d stopped for our talk. “I’ll feel better once you’re safely back at Whateley.”
Chris gave me a look of surprise. “But my tuition…”
“Is taken care of,” I assured him. “Don’t worry about that.”
“But…” he began to protest.
Just then, there was the roar of an engine as a car raced down the street in front of us, amazing me with how fast they were going since we’d spent so long stuck in stop and go traffic. But then the car made a rapid turn, or at least tried to, because in an instant, the car was rolling over and slamming into the side of a nearby building.
Chris leapt out of our car and ran for that one. I called for him to wait, but it was too late.
“Damn heroic instincts,” I grumbled as I looked around nervously, remembering the MCO truck I’d seen just a few minutes earlier. “We don’t need this kind of attention.”
I climbed out of the car and ran after Chris, who was already beside the crashed car, looking to see if everyone was all right. He tried pulling the door open, but when it was jammed, he shifted to using his powers. His entire body glowed with a golden aura as he pulled on the door, finally breaking it open enough for the passengers to get out.
“Too much attention,” I muttered, fully aware of the fact that I was still hidden by my illusion, and just as importantly, that Chris was still glowing. “You did your good deed for the day,” I called out to him. “Now we have to get out of here.”
Before Chris could even move a step, a flash of blue came rushing down the street towards us, moving just as fast as that car had been going if not faster. It was a man in a blue and white costume, who was also wearing a blue helmet that covered most of his head, leaving only his lower face exposed.
A moment later, the costumed man slammed into Chris, intentionally ramming right into him and coming to an immediately halt. Chris’ PK shell flared bright gold as he was thrown back twenty feet where he slammed into a wall.
“CHRIS,” I exclaimed.
“I WON’T LET YOU HURT THOSE PEOPLE, YOU VILLAIN,” the costumed man shouted.
“Oh great,” I groaned. “Another idiot hero.”
“My name is Speedrun,” the hero announced while posing heroically. “And I will protect you from this dangerous fiend.”
Chris was already getting back to his feet, obviously shaken and even hurt from the impact. However, he’d taken even bigger hits while at school, and I knew that given a little time, his regeneration would take care of the injuries.
“What are you talking about?” Chris demanded, looking both confused and angry. “I was trying to help those people…”
“Enough with your lies,” Speedrun exclaimed, clearly showing off for everyone watching. “You must be that dangerous runaway mutant the MCO is looking for…”
I scowled at that, wondering exactly what story Keller had been spreading. Once we were clear, I’d have to call both Carson and my lawyer to get this all straightened out. After all, I had all the legal paperwork for Chris, including that bitch’s signature acknowledging that.
“Or maybe,” I thought aloud, “the MCO just made up the story on their own.”
They were known for that kind of thing, which was why I’d always avoided them like the plague. It was way too dangerous to get on their radar.
Speedrun shifted position and I could see that he was about to charge at Chris again. I wasn’t about to let that happen though. So, the moment he began to move, I threw several of my throwing spikes, using my PK aura to put a little extra ‘oomph’ behind them. Both spikes struck the hero in the leg, causing him to suddenly fall face first into the ground just as he was rushing off.
“Come on,” I called out to Chris. “Let’s get out of here before Speedbump recovers.”
Chris stared at the downed hero in surprise, then up at me. He gulped, nodded his head, and then staggered towards me as quickly as he could while keeping a nervous eye on Speedrun.
“How bad are you hurt?” I asked Chris as he reached me.
“Mostly bruised,” he responded before grudgingly admitted, “And maybe a cracked rib.”
I nodded at that, not saying a word since I knew that for a regenerator like him, that wasn’t too serious an injury. Bruises would heal in no time at all and even a cracked rib would only be a memory within the hour.
“He… He just attacked me,” Chris complained as we got back into the car. “That guy didn’t even check on the people in the car…”
“I noticed,” I responded with a nod.
The truth was, I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised to learn that the reason that car had been speeding was because the driver was trying to escape Speedrun. That would certainly explain why he’d been on the scene so quickly.
“Let’s get home,” I told Chris, hoping that we didn’t run into any more delays.
