Number Two, and Other Stories Pt 3 (Patreon)

 Seismic had caused another earthquake in LA. It was the same old story; the villain had rebuilt his quake machine, and had tried to hold the city to ransom. Again. When the heroes had attacked him – of course – he had fled, leaving his machine to set off the earth tremor in his wake. They had destroyed it, of course, but several city blocks had been badly damaged, and facilities had been cut off in a much wider area.

That was where I came in. I'm good at damage control. In fact, it's my thing. It's what I call myself, after all. What I'm really good at is permeation and control of my environment, seeing what's damaged, and fixing it. I'm less good at controlling things in other ways, though I can do it if pressed. In short, I'm not good at punching supervillains through walls, but I can, given adequate setup time, make the wall grab the villain, and give him a noogie.

What? Just because I'm a hero, I can't noogie the villain? Show me where that's written down.

Anyway, there was a lot of damage. Even with the latest earthquake-proofed buildings, that will happen. Correction; earthquake resistant buildings. Give them a big enough tremor, and they will fall down. Maybe the Japanese had the right idea, back in the day; make your buildings single story only, with rice paper for walls, and there's much less chance of being killed in a quake, or being trapped in a fallen building. But I digress.

I used my ForceTech flight pack to get me to the rough epicentre of the damaged area. It was a very useful piece of equipment; while most people found the controls to be too finicky, and the antigrav mechanism prone to malfunction, I had no problems in that area. So I set down on what appeared to be a relatively stable place to stand, made it more stable, and let my power flow outward.

When I'm not concentrating on it, my power tends to stabilise the environment around me. Newton's first law is given a little bit of a boost; things that are at rest are a little more prone to stay at rest, while things that are in motion stay in motion. In the finer detail, things become a little more orderly; coffee doesn't spill, pencils don't break, staplers and copy machines don't jam up. On the whole, bad things are less likely to happen.

This, by the way, was why I liked the ForceTech pack. It worked just the way I wanted it to, and the antigrav had yet to act out on me. I brought it back to Adam Force every thousand hours for a check-up, and he had yet to find anything wrong with it.

My power has other applications, if I'm concentrating a little. When it comes to random events that can be affected by changes in the environment, they tend to come out my way. In short, I'm 'lucky'. I never trip, stub my toe, lose anything that's important to me, or even drop anything that I don't want to drop. I also haven't lost a game of darts, billiards or beer pong in ten years, except on purpose. I do deliberately lose on occasion; I like having friends.

All the way through college, I seemed to live a charmed existence; pranks set up against me always backfired, while mine went off perfectly. It was only afterward, once my powers developed properly, that I realised what had been going on all that time.

I only tested my powers against the 'random chance' of a casino once. I visited Las Vegas and put down one dollar on the roulette wheel; six times they spun the wheel, and six times it came up on the number I selected. On the sixth spin, there was a burning smell, and sparks came out from under the wheel; whatever they were using to brake the thing had failed to overcome my power, and had burned out. It came down on my number anyway, but I never collected my winnings; I just got out of there.

Of course, when I'm really concentrating on my powers, the effect is a little more pronounced than 'good luck'.

Once I was sure that I had the entire damaged region within my ambit, I exerted my will. The effect was subtle at first; a shifting, a grinding, in the depths of the rubble. And then things started to move, to reassemble themselves. Gradually, defying entropy and gravity, the chunks of concrete and rebar started to work back together. Beneath, the water and gas electrical lines reconnected, sealed themselves up. Piece by piece, chunk by chunk, the collapsed buildings, the infrastructure, became as good as new.

On the way, I took note of substandard materials that had been used in one building; this had not materially contributed to the collapse, but had certainly not helped to prevent it. There was also an injured man in a broom closet on the fourth floor of one of the buildings. I could not mend him the same way as I mended the buildings, but I could send EMTs his way.

In a few more minutes, I was putting the finishing touches on my repairs. I had even fixed the street better than new; the asphalt was as fresh and clean, the paint as bright and new, as if it had been put down yesterday.

Lifting off on my flight pack, I flew the three blocks to where the police were holding the cordon. Touching down next to the command vehicle, I nodded to the officer in charge. “It's all clear. Everything is back the way it should be. I left the earthquake machine destroyed, of course. You'll need to send the EMTs up to the fourth floor of that building.” I told them about the injured man, and where he could be found.

The rep from the Mayor's office was there, of course. He approached me as I finished talking to the cops. “Mr, ah, Damage Control. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

I smiled as I shook his hand. I knew he was a little taken aback by my costume, or lack thereof. But it suited my theme, and so I stuck with it. A hard hat, denim work shirt and overalls, heavy work gloves and boots, and a toolbelt that I never actually made use of, except to store my phone. A domino mask that I usually hid under oversized sunglasses completed my ensemble. Apart from the jetpack, of course. “All my pleasure, Mr, uh … ?“

“Wells, Colin Wells,” he informed me. “The Mayor is aware of the arrangement you have with the government, and is willing to reimburse you for your time to the usual value.”

I nodded. One percent of the estimated value of what was repaired might not seem like much, but the zeroes tended to mount up. And when compared to the cost of rebuilding it all … it was a pittance to someone like the Mayor of the city of Los Angeles.

Who, I noted, could not even be bothered to come and meet with me himself. Behind my shades, I rolled my eyes. “Sounds good to me, Mr Wells.”

“So, where would you like the funds deposited, sir?” asked Wells.

I raised an eyebrow. Really? What does this clown think he's playing at? “A check works just fine for me, Mr Wells,” I pointed out.

“I, uh, the Mayor's office, would feel much more secure with online banking - “

I cut him off. “No. You hand me a check, I look it over and go on my way. I do not wait three to five working days for the funds to clear. And I do not suffer strange and mysterious banking fees. And most importantly, I do not hand over my banking information to just anyone. Is that abundantly clear, Mr Wells?”

He swallowed. “Uh, yes, uh, sir. Sorry about the miscommunication.” Reaching into his inside pocket, he pulled out an envelope and handed it to me. I opened it and pulled out the check, and read the amount on it.

Wells cleared his throat. “If we're done here, sir -”

“Wells.”

“Yes, sir?”

“What, exactly, is this?” I was keeping my voice level, with just a little effort.

“It's, uh, the check that you requested, sir.”

“This amount,” I persisted. “Where's the rest of it? I think you missed a zero.”

“It's the amount that was deemed appropriate,” he ventured. “One percent of the appraisal value of the property that was damaged.” He was starting to sweat, now.

I read the amount on the check again. “Wells, I've been doing this for a while. Sometimes someone decides to lowball the appraisal value. You know what happens then?”

He blinked behind his glasses. “What?”

“Nothing.” I took my shades off, so that I could look him in the eye. “I never, ever go back to where they stiffed me, until they make up the rest of the amount. Think about that for a moment.”

“Sir, I assure you -”

I cut him off. “Save it. I'm done here. Next disaster hits, next villain decides to level a city block, don't call me unless you've got the rest of this money waiting for me before I start work. As well as the payment for the job at hand.”

Folding the check, I put it into my pocket, then I slid my shades back on to my face. “LA's a big place, Wells. Shit will happen, sooner or later. Your boss wants my help cleaning up afterward, he'd better pony up.”

Before he could answer, I kicked in the flight pack and lifted up and away.

At that moment, my phone earpiece buzzed. “Incoming call. Do you accept?”

“Yes.” I was still seething. “Who is it?”

“Hi, honey, it's me.”

Despite my foul mood, I smiled. “Hello, dear. What's up?”

“Just touching base. You all right, sweetie?”

“Not really. I might be early home for once.”

She was perceptive, I gave her that. “Oh? What's the matter?”

“Bastards lowballed the LA job. Smarmy little weasel gave me a check for about one-tenth what it should have been.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Anyway, enough of my day. How about yours?”

“Oh, I was thinking I might go shopping. Retail therapy, you know.”

“Remember, lowball. Make sure you leave something behind in the shops, all right?”

“Oh, ha ha. Chicken wings all right for dinner tonight?”

“My favourite. See you at home.”

“See you there.”

She made kissing noises, and ended the call. I found myself smiling again; she always knew how to cheer me up. Not many people could say that they'd met the love of their life in college, but I had. She had been the one person who could bring me down to earth and keep me there, and I loved her for it.

<><>​

I had been in the air five minutes, heading for LAX, when my phone buzzed again. “Incoming call. Do you accept?”

“Yes. Who is it?”

“This is Lieutenant-Colonel Groves, of the Military Liaison Group.”

“I remember you, Lieutenant-Colonel. We met last year, in Dallas.”

“Yes, we did. We have need of your talents again. Catastrophe is in New York.”

“Oh, god,” I muttered. “Casualties?”

“Thankfully few, but there is extensive property damage. The Mayor's office is citing seven figures.”

Which meant that I'd get five, if and when I got paid. If they didn't lowball again. “Sure. Tell 'em I'm on my way. Where can you pick me up from?”

“Actually, I'm on your six, about half a mile out.”

I slowed the pack to a hover, and looked around. The aircraft coming up from behind was a ForceTech special, produced for the military. It looked like nothing on earth, but I knew from personal experience that this one, and its brothers and sisters, could also fly like nothing on earth.

All the same, I would never set foot on one without my own personal luck field.

As it approached, all sleek lines and smooth fairings, I guided my pack around to where the rear hatch was opening. Groves was standing there, waiting for me as I landed inside; I shook his hand. Groves was one of the good guys. He'd never tried to doubletalk me.

“Good to see you again,” he greeted me. “Buckle up, we're going hypersonic in ninety.”

By which I knew that he meant ninety seconds, not ninety minutes.

With practised movements, I shed the pack and clipped it on to a bracket, sat in a seat that configured itself to my form, and let the auto-buckle system work itself out. When the scramjets cut in, I felt as though all the skin on my face was trying to leave via the rear hatch. Groves seemed to be merely relaxing, as though this was a daily occurrence for him. And to be honest, it probably was.

"So," he commented, once the acceleration had eased off. "The LA guys stiffed you, huh?"

"How the hell did you know that?" I demanded, though I wasn't overly surprised. Groves was a very savvy operator, and there was little that went on in the world of independent heroes that he wasn't privy to.

"Little birdie told me," he responded casually. "Branch of the Mayor's office that handles that sort of thing recently had a change of leadership. New guy in charge decided that they had to look into cutting costs."

"Which means stiffing us independents," I concluded.

"Got it in one." He eyed me from his seat. "You really gonna hold out for the payment up front before you work in LA again?"

I shrugged. "They're gonna short me once, they'll do it again. Gotta send a message, am I right?"

"Not saying you're wrong," he observed. "But demanding payment before you even do the work, that could be taken as extortion or even blackmail."

I rolled my eyes. "Damn it, Groves. I do good work. You know I do good work. But what am I gonna do, with these penny-pinchers gouging me even when I put the place back to better than new condition?"

"Well, shit, I know it, all right," he agreed. "Wouldn't call on you, otherwise. Just saying what they're like to say, you demand payment up front like that."

"That happens, I walk," I stated flatly. "They don't need me. But they'll sure as hell find out that I'm a damn sight cheaper than anyone else."

"Might could be they'll try to use legal means to force you to do the work," he warned me.

I grinned at him. “Your hillbilly roots are showing through, Lieutenant-Colonel.”

He grinned back. “Oh, shet yore pie-hole.”

“Anyway, if they do try to coerce me with legalities,” I went on, “they can whistle in the wind for all I care.”

“But if they do pull up some bullshit legality that says you have to do the work?”

I shrugged. “They agreed to the terms, and if they want to play fast and loose with their assessments of property value, we can go there. I figure I can rebuild to the value of the assessment if I want to. Might be less than what they're looking for, but that really isn't my problem now, is it?”

“Well now,” he mused. “That would make 'em scream just a little. I'd pay money to see that.”

I chuckled and leaned back in my seat. “Stick around, the next time you give me a ride to LA. You just might get your chance.”

<><>​

It took us roughly twenty minutes to get to New York, during which time we discussed Catastrophe. Groves didn't have any new intelligence on her; at least, none that he was sharing with me. All that was known, or presumed, was that she was female, and that she was somewhere between eighteen and forty years old. Her earliest appearance had been ten years previously, when she devastated three city blocks of Fifth Avenue. Since then, she had appeared intermittently, causing mayhem with what was more or less the inverse of my power set.

Catastrophe's main power seemed to be the ability to spread chaos; she caused cars to stall or to swerve into obstacles or each other. Electrical conduits sparked wildly or shorted out altogether. Nothing that was finicky or delicate lasted long around her, and the only images they had of her at all had been taken through a security camera with a badly warped cover; the camera had taken three frames, and then self-immolated.

Like my powers, however, hers always manifested in a way that benefited her; nothing that shorted out or exploded or otherwise malfunctioned did it in a way that harmed her. If someone tried to shoot me, my power would keep the primer from exploding; in her case, the entire gun would explode in the firer's hand.

Our powers had another connection, which manifested itself as the ForceTech plane slowed to a hover over Manhattan. “She's nearby,” I told Groves. “But she's leaving.”

“What, she's in the city?” he asked. “Right now?”

I nodded. “I've encountered her before. Our powers have a mutual-exclusion thing going on. The closer we get, the weaker our powers become.”

“But you could follow her,” he pointed out. “When her powers get weak enough, we could identify her, capture her.”

I shook my head. “Nope. I'm not that sort of superhero. I'm not the guy who chases down the supervillain. I just fix the damage, afterward. I leave that sort of thing to the real heroes.”

Reluctantly, he nodded. “You got a point. Suppose it's a good thing that she's leaving, so you can actually fix the damage.”

“Got that right,” I agreed. He lowered the hatch; I strapped on the flight pack, tipped him an ironic salute, and dived out of the aircraft.

<><>​

Groves must have had words with the Mayor's office; when I finished fixing the damage that Catastrophe had left behind, they were very prompt with the check, and the amount was gratifyingly impressive. Or maybe they never intended to short me in the first place. In any case, I tucked the slip of paper away next to the one from LA. These would serve to cover a few bills, plus build my nest egg up a little more.

The Liaison aircraft dropped me off over Lake Michigan; by the time I had fallen a thousand feet, they had turned tail and accelerated out of sight, the sonic boom dopplering into the distance. I activated the flight pack, and skimmed low over the lake through the early evening haze. Landing in a lakeside park, I stowed the flight pack, helmet and mask in my duffel, shouldered it, and strolled down the lane toward my house.

As I walked, I felt my range shrinking all the time, my power attenuating. I knew exactly what this meant; Catastrophe was in the area. I completed the walk home, and let myself in through the back door.

“Hi, honey, I'm home,” I called out, as I dropped the duffel in the corner. The aroma of chicken wings wafted to me as I kicked my boots off. “That smells wonderful.”

She appeared from the living room, came over, and kissed me gently. “Thank you, darling,” she murmured. “So, did you get to New York?”

“You certainly made a mess there,” I noted. “Thanks for keeping the casualties down. Though I still think it's total bullshit that you can fly and I can't.”

“Hey,” she retorted playfully. “Them's the breaks. And even if I have to break stuff, I don't have to kill anyone.”

I nodded. “And next time, maybe LA. Or maybe the time after. Don't want anyone getting suspicious.”

She smiled as I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Whatever your heart desires. We have to pay the bills somehow, right?”

“Right,” I agreed, and kissed her soundly. “Have I told you how much I love you, recently?”

Her tone was sultry. “I can always do with being told again – eeek!”

The shriek was due to her being scooped into my arms; giggling, she snuggled into my arms as I carried her upstairs.

<><>​

We had met in college, she and I. She had always been able to bring me down to earth, while I was the stable friend who never had anything bad happen to them. Her power was unpredictable then, and prone to lashing out. People got hurt around her; minor accidents, occasional illnesses, that sort of thing. She could not find a boyfriend who could last more than a week. Until we made that first step, becoming more than friends. After that, we were inseparable.

Her powers are like mine; always on, to a certain degree. Unlike mine, the destructive urges will build up over time. If they break loose of their own accord, she risks causing widespread destruction. But if she lets them out every now and again, she can release the pressure, so to speak, making things safe for a while. And I'm there to clean up her messes, which she appreciates. According to her, it feels wonderful to let loose, but she keeps herself in check for my sake. Which I appreciate.

I fell in love with her because she was always able to puncture my self-delusions, making me see myself for what I was. She fell in love with me because I could see past her self-hate, and taught her to see herself as something more than a monster. In her arms, I was a normal person. In my arms, she could love and be loved, without hurting anyone.

Really, we're perfect for each other.