2.7

A couple days later I get my suit.

Well, not shipped to the dorm or anything, but Rook shows me to the deployment garage on the bottom floor of the tower, and in one of the lockers I find my suit and some papers detailing my ‘character’. Digging through the packet, I also find a small… pager? Retro.

Apparently, my name is Redline, now. A bit on the nose, considering the patterns on the costume.

Looking closer at the costume, it seems like they’ve included some baggy, tactical cargo pants along with the skintight part of the suit, so. At least there’s that.

The pants are padded, and adorned with a couple carefully placed plates of armor. The suit also comes with an armored chest piece and elbow pads, all lined in a bright vermilion.

It’s really not as bad as I thought it would be.

I take the next couple nights to read through the packet that came with the costume, along with working on the general courses on the laptop. During the days, I have martial arts lessons with Rook, as well as participating minimally in a couple practical drills with the other junior heroes. During this time, Rook usually likes to run through hero standard procedure and rules of engagement, which I sit in on and try to take as many notes as I can.

A total of four days later, I’m sitting in my still only partially unpacked room working on schoolwork when the pager, sitting on the desk next to me, goes off. Really loudly, and echoing from somewhere else in the dorms as well.

Struggling to remember the drill we did on this situation, I click the pager and toss it in my pocket, jogging out of my room and towards the dorm elevators.

I slide into the dangerous, red-outlined one next to Rory, who’s already standing next to the buttons.

He hits the controls, and we both grab onto the railings. The doors close, my stomach drops and I hear a muffled whoosh.

“You’re late,” Rory comments. I stare at him.

“How??”

“I was two seconds ahead of you.”

I huff. “Really.”

“Yes, really.” The elevator stops, and he steps out. “Keep up.”

We’re on the ground floor now, and Rory immediately sprints down the hallway.

He has a head start, but I catch up fairly quickly, and in no time we round the corner into the changing rooms. I grab my costume and dart into one of the stalls, as Rory does the same. They’re not separated by gender this time, I assume for efficiency.

I struggle with my costume for a minute before I hear Rory clunking out of the changing room. “You’re slow, again!” He calls back as he leaves.

“Ugh!” I complain to no one. The costume still fits weird. I tried it on during the drill and figured it’d be fine, but trying to don it quickly, I’m realizing it’s not. I huff, and activate my power.

Sinking into the murky red of biological information, I make a number of minor adjustments. Then, I sprint out of the changing room, helmet tucked under my arm, and gloves halfway through being pulled on.

Rory’s suit is similarly tactical, especially near his joints, but his is more heavily armored, and around his chest, arms and legs he wears heavy-looking white bracers with gold trim. A number of small rods and pucks hang off of his belt. His helmet is also a lot more ornate than mine is.

He looks at me as I jog into the garage, where a small transport vehicle labelled ‘USMC’ is waiting.

“You’re… shorter.”

I shrug. He drops it, opting instead to hop into the back of the armored van and buckle in. I follow him, closing the doors behind us as he knocks on the vehicle’s back wall and we speed off.

As soon as we hit the open road, he pulls a small tab from the ceiling, and down comes a screen attached to an arm. It automatically stabilizes as we drive up a ramp onto the highway.

“According to security footage, registered villain Clockwerk is currently committing armed robbery in District 3, at one of the Caldwell branch locations,” Rory starts as he messes with the screen. “Have you read Clockwerk’s file?”

No, but I know the basics. “Skimmed it,” I settle on.

“She has some form of remote kinetic manipulation. Expect kinetic tools and traps.” Remote in this case doesn’t actually mean distance. Even if I haven’t really gone through the registered files yet, I know the basics of power classification.

Remote essentially means she needs a medium to conduct her power through. Clockwerk’s medium is suspected to be, well. Gears.

Rory pauses for a moment. “I’ll go in through the front. It’s unlikely that Clockwerk will harm the hostages unless threatened, so I should be able to distract her long enough for you to evacuate them.” He swipes through the screen and turns it to face me, where I see it’s displaying footage from a security camera angled at a side entrance. “You’ll go around here, quietly move the hostages out of danger, and then join the fight if necessary.”

I don’t have a better plan. I nod.

The drive there only takes about five minutes. We pull up to the bank parking lot, and Rory opens the van doors. Two cop cars are positioned right outside, the cops looking nervous as one of them mutters to a handheld radio.

“Remember the plan?”

I nod.

He nods back. Then, he hops out of the van, jogging past the cop cars. I drop from the van and follow at his heels.

As I approach, I catch the cops giving us dirty looks as we run by.

Hm.

Rory closes in on the front door, and I head around to the right, watching through the tall glass windows as he kicks the door open.

Inside the bank, a small gaggle of hostages sit in a semicircle near the middle of the lobby, surrounding Clockwerk. She stands at the center, covered in leather and brass plates and holding a complex-looking machine that might be a firearm.

It’s not the same one from when I saw her last, but it still makes me nervous.

Along with her armored knee and elbow plates, she sports bracers with some kind of mechanism attached, and a sling dotted with small brass boxes. Hanging off of her back is a thin leather bag filled with metal bolts, which solidifies my fear about the mechanism she’s holding.

I move around to the side entrance, watching Rory’s fight through the glass. I want to see how he handles Clockwerk.

“Clockwerk!” He announces, pulling a puck from his belt. “You’re under arrest!”

“Real original!” She fires back, hefting the bolt gun.

Rory doesn’t skip a beat. Bright yellow light flickers into existence over the puck as he drops it onto the ceramic tile in front of him. It takes shape as a tall glowing barrier as he kicks the puck, and it goes sliding across the room. The projection follows like they’re welded together.

Clockwerk fires her bolt gun, and the bolt cracks the yellow barrier, sending it and the puck spinning off to the side.

Rory’s already taken advantage of the distraction, running up behind the makeshift shield and closing in on Clockwerk.

He’s assumed that her bolt gun only has one shot. From previous encounters?

Whatever the reason, he’s miscalculated. Clockwerk yanks back a handle attached to the side of the gun and fires again. This time, the bolt glances off of Rory’s armor, denting it and making him stumble. As I reach the building’s side door, Clockwerk rips one of the brass boxes off of her sling and points it at Rory.

I grit my teeth and run inside as I hear a bang go off and see smoke leaking around the corner of the hallway I’m in.

I run to the end and, after a moment of hesitation, slowly peek my head out of the door.

I’ve ended up next to the gaggle of hostages. Off closer to the center of the lobby is Clockwerk and Rory, who is… unharmed. And tangled in a net, struggling like a wild animal.

Clockwerk chuckles. “What, you thought I’d just keep using the same gear forever? Moron!” She berates, strolling closer.

She stops a good distance away.

I hear a crackle of static in my ear. “Redline, do you read me?” It’s Rory’s voice, interspersed with various grunts.

He’s faking it?

“Yeah…” I respond, tentatively. I don’t really know how to work the comms unit.

“Dammit, she’s not close enough. Listen, focus on evacuating the hostages, I’ll keep her distracted,” Rory asserts. I nod, before realizing he can’t see that.

“Sure.”

The comms cut off. “Let me out!” Rory shouts out loud.

Clockwerk laughs. “No!”

Slowly, I creep forward, and when one of the hostages catches sight of me, I hold up a finger to my mouth — helmet.

They nod, and as the others notice my presence, I wave them over. They hurriedly begin to shuffle over to the hallway I entered from.

After about half of them exit, one of the hostage’s shoes scuff against the linoleum floor. Clockwerk immediately turns. “Hey — !”

I stand, falling into a sloppy combat stance. Before I can act, though, thin yellow blades snap into existence in a small ring around Rory. He’s hunched over something on the floor, and as he shifts I watch as the blades whirl, cleaving through the net.

Clockwerk turns back around as the rope falls, and Rory stands up, dispelling the saw and clutching another puck in his hand.

With his other hand outstretched, he lunges toward Clockwerk, tapping the end of the bolt gun and projecting an orb of yellow light around the barrel.

Clockwerk responds by lashing out with a forward kick, metal snapping as the mechanism attached to her bracer fires and clunks against Rory’s armor, sending him tumbling. Then she turns and runs in my direction.

I panic a little. At this point, the hostages have left the lobby and are likely somewhere outside. My only issue is making sure Clockwerk doesn’t escape.

But — I really don’t want to get shot. How many bolts does that thing hold?

She stops as she catches sight of me. “Oh! A new one! What, do you control bikes or something?” Huh? Is it the helmet? I try to ignore her and come up with a plan while Rory’s still wheezing on the floor.

“Nah, that would be too cool,” I mutter. If I don’t want to get shot, I have to take the initiative. I’m supposed to excel in close combat. I take a tentative step forward.

Clockwerk huffs. “Heh. Do I know you from somewhere?”

I falter. What? There’s no way.

I go for the grab, reaching out to snag her collar. She ducks, and my world turns as my legs slide out from under me and I hit the floor with a grunt. Behind me, I hear boots against tile and the sound of the hallway door swinging open.

I sigh. This whole hero thing really isn’t working out for me.

—

Back at the garage, I hop out of the van and head to my locker. “Debrief in an hour,” Rory calls after me.

I stash my costume in the locker and pull my clothes back on.

When I stumble back into my room, sweaty and exhausted, hair and clothes disheveled, Eva looks up at me from her spot hanging off of my bed with more than a little concern.

“Wow, you look awful.”

I roll my eyes. “Thanks.”

“No, seriously, even I didn’t look that bad when I got back from my first mission.”

Chuckling, I sit down at my desk and flick open my laptop.