=== Curt ===

Cindi never checked up on me. That wasn't a surprise, really. She was like water. Fluid. If I tried to force her to stay, she'd freeze up and buck against me. But that's fine. I wouldn't change her. A few days after the Marcelli incident, I remembered that I had a meeting with Kari that I had completely spaced. So much had happened, between Wan En and planning the Marcelli job. Oh well. Not like it would have amounted to much anyway, I thought, laying on my back. I was pretty beat up from the job. Bruises and welts throbbed painfully. The Woman in Pink is way too fucking strong. I need to stay off her radar in the future. As I scrolled through the ever-changing feed of Twitter, I got a notification and a message.

Notifications

Kari Stewart @KariStews May 17

@curtreese418 follow me back, you goob

Kari Stewart is now following you.

I tapped on her profile and looked through it. There were some selfies, a lot of food pictures and some pictures of her in the city. Links to her Tak-Tik and short videos from it. It was really her. But she had half a million followers. I had five. Not really a good thing to really be visible in my line of work, you understand. I hesitated on tapping the follow button. Old memories surfaced. Bike riding, trampolines, laying across one another, her warm smile, her defending me from bullies. Maybe I should sic her on the Woman in Pink. No one would dare get in the way of Kar. I clicked the follow button and went on my way through my profile. When my app refreshed, I saw that Kari had retweeted a video of the Woman in Pink from some small news profile. I clicked on the video.

“Why are you here?” A curly-haired reporter asked the woman in the tight spandex and the ridiculous face mask, holding out the microphone to her. She was strong. She looked like a supermodel in her tights and spandex. Heroes aren't always good-looking, but a lot of them are very fit, and in some ways, that's enough. I couldn't see her face. Not really, anyway. Her stupid mask was somewhat like an astronaut's helmet. A shiny, reflective material that was more form-fitted over her face. It distorted her voice.

“I just want to help people. There are so many people who want to hurt others. Thieves and bullies who think that they can just do whatever they want. People like that concrete guy I took down or Esvanir.” The way she said my apparent moniker was pure venom.

“You mentioned a man made of concrete. Was that the individual that attacked the Avalare Open Air Mall?”

“Yeah, that was me. I was just in the area and l-left my costume el-elsewhere. Figured it would be a peaceful day,” the supposed heroine responded, stammering somewhat.

“So, you're Smash Gal, then?” The reporter asked, barely masking her smile. The Woman in Pink's shoulders sank and she nodded weakly. She reinflated a moment later.

“I didn't choose that name, but I guess it's as good as any. I am Smash Gal and I'm here to help!” She puffed out her chest. The spandex-like material stretching some. I frowned at the phone as the video started over again. There was something about her that seemed . . . familiar. Smash Gal. Well, it's good to know that I'm not the only one getting an unwanted moniker. I received a message.

Kari Stewart @KariStews

She/Her | BLM

Following 396 Followed by 545,423

Hey, sorry I missed our meetup! I got really busy. Ur not mad, r u? =)

She missed our meeting too? I thought, my frown deepening. That's not like her. Well, it wasn't like her. Oh well, can't be mad at something that I didn't go to anyway. I let the message sit for a while. Percolating a response.

=== Kari ===

I sent the message. I was a little nervous. Curt had always been harsh when people missed plans. He was always so organized. So forward-thinking. He forced me to be so, too. Turns out that's a good thing. I had lots of followers and I was always getting notifications and conversations and DMs and honestly, it was too much. I stared at the little read sign at the bottom of my message. Oh, God. He's mad. He's so mad. I wish I could tell him. I can trust Curt, right? I could just tell him.

“I'm Smash-Gal, superheroine,” I said, my voice echoing in the empty lab room. I didn't have a place yet.

“Of course you are, honey,” mom responded absently. “Do you want to go out for patrol? It's a little late.”

“Uh . . . Well, I kind of . . . Met up with Curt when I was in the city, mom.”

“Curt,” mom repeated absently. Her head shot up, eyes wide. “Curt? Curtis? First-Kiss Curt? You saw him?”

“Yeah, First-Kiss Curt,” I was still embarrassed that I had told her about that. But she's my mom. I can't hide secrets from my mom!

“What are the chances of that? Who would've thought . . . Did you meet him as you or as . . .” Mom let the sentence drop.

“I was me. Just plain ol' Kari,” I said, not realizing that I was relieved I had not met him as Smash Gal. In that costume.

“How is he?”

“He was angry. I . . . I never responded to his emails.” This wasn't really my fault. Mom and dad wouldn't let me have access to my email when we first moved. By the time I did have it back, things had changed. It had been so long. I didn't have the same friends. MySpace had faded into obscurity overnight and everyone was on Facebook. Then everyone was on Twitter. Then everyone was on Tak-Tik. I like Tak-Tik. A lot of the people there are fun and I can just be goofy. And there are already cosplayers of Smash Gal. Which is so cool! I should create a profile for Smash Gal! If I share a few videos as myself, I'm sure Smash Gal would be a . . . smash hit! I internally groaned at my own pun. Which means I had to share it with the world.

A notification from Twitter brought me back to reality. It was from Curt. I didn't rush over to it. At least not compared to my top speed. Mom came over and peered after my shoulder. “What does he look like?”

Curt Reese @curtreese418

Following 274 Followed by 8

I'm not mad. Honestly, I ended up a little busy and was . . . a bit late. I thought you left, so I didn't stick around for too long.

Haha, NBD. I just got distracted. Do u want to meet up?

Sure. If you want. What do you want to do?

U live in the city. U decide

=== Curt ===

I stared at the message for a long time. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know this person anymore. She isn't my Kari anymore. She's just someone that I used to know. I groaned as the song started to worm its way around my brain. Actually, I thought, this could be a great cover. I could use this meetup as a way of getting close to EnGin. See what their security is like. And there's a nice little cafe there. Nothing too serious. It's just a meetup. Catching up.

Starburst Cafe. Fifteenth and Madison. 8?

Sounds great! I'll be there!

I spent the rest of the afternoon agonizing over what to wear. It had to be casual and long-sleeved. Ultimately, I decided on a blue sweater and slacks. The sweater was baggy enough to fit my rig up underneath. And it looked okay. I slicked back my hair. God, I feel like a teenager. I wonder if this is what it's like for everyone?

=== Kari ===

“Oh, God! Mom, what do I wear? What do I wear?” I said over my shoulder as I dug through my closet, tossing aside shoes and shirts. “I don't have anything to wear!”

“Kari, come on. It's just a little dinner. Maybe some coffee. You'll look great regardless,” mom assured me, picking up my discarded shoes. I could hear the smile in her voice. “Just be yourself. Tennis shoes or heels, dress or pants, you're you and that's what matters.”

“Okay, Hallmark. But what do I wear?” I demanded again. She shook her head, still smiling. She helped me decide, finally. We settled on a floral skirt, my super leggings, heels, and a nice purple blouse that could cover my costume, with tennis shoes. An amalgamation of who I am. I was still a little nervous. I haven't been on a date since . . . ever. Not that I didn't want to. But I was home-schooled. Lab-schooled? Not a whole lot of options. I had snuck out a few times. Found some boys at the park, at convenience stores. I had kissed a few of them. Done a little more than that sometimes. I hadn't told mom or dad about that, but I think she knew. But it was all fun. And if a boy ever went too far, I could always show him what orbit was like. No always means no, but with me, it's not even a question. No one can take what I don't want to give. If only all girls had my power to do that.

We put my outfit in a bag. Someone might catch me if I fly in at Mach 8 in street clothes. Come to think of it, I doubt there'd be any clothes left! Well, except for my super suit. I had done a couple more patrols of the city and had gotten pretty good at navigating it. I found the restaurant Curt had suggested pretty easy. It was a small place. Cute. Curt was there 10 minutes early. It's just like him. He hasn't changed a bit. I thought. He'd chosen a seat on the outdoor patio. It was a warm night, so that wouldn't be an issue. But it was noncommittal. If he didn't like what was happening, he could bolt. That was also like him. He always had an exit strategy.

I dipped into an alley and put on all my clothes in an instant, then check a compact mirror. I put the blouse on backwards. Damn. I have to practice this! In a spin, it was on correctly. I walked over to him and was there exactly at 8. I put my hand on his shoulder and he jumped. He looked up at me and put on a smile. “Oh, you scared me.”

“I'm not that scary, am I? I asked, smiling. I took the seat across from him. A waitress came by and took our order. I ordered chocolate milk and a sandwich. I was starving after flying that fast. According to mom and dad, I can use calories much much much more efficiently than regular humans, but I was still so hungry after flying that fast. “How are you, Curt?”

“I'm well. And yourself?” He said, stiffly. Oh, he must still be mad. I would be mad if he hadn't tried to reach out to me too. But I couldn't. I also couldn't just tell him why. That I was a super-woman.

“I'm super. Just getting used to the city. What have you been up to since . . .” I trailed off. I was going to say since I last saw him, but that had been fourteen years. Tons of things happened and he was unhappy about it.

“Since middle school?” He asked, his tone a little icy. “The usual. Went to school, got a degree. Doing some work, here and there. What about you? How have the last fifteen years treated you? You look healthy, considering.”

“Considering?” I asked, frowning.

“You were sick. That's why you had to move away.”

“Oh, right. Yeah. Uh, mom and dad found a treatment regimen that worked. Took some years before I got the . . . condition under control.” I wasn't lying. I had a condition. It could be considered medical. And it did take me years to get control over it. The waitress saved me from having to explain further as she sat down with our food. Curt had ordered a plain black coffee and a small salad. Which wasn't like him. He was voracious when he was a kid. He had filled out a little since then. No longer the scrawny little kid I first met, bordering on starving to death.

“You look good, Curt. Do you work out?” He blushed, looking away from me. Complimenting shy guys was always so cute. The shy ones never knew how to react. The arrogant ones always tripped up eventually.

“I . . . I do some sparring. Mostly me dodging hits. Had some practice at it, after all,” he said. I got the sense that there was more to it. But I didn't press on. “As I stated, you look . . . wow. You look great. No longer that lanky girl that was all elbows and knees.”

“Like you're one to talk. When we hugged, each one of your ribs stabbed me!” I retorted, unable to keep the smile off my face. He was smiling too. We chatted a bit more. I found out so much. He still played Sorcerer's some. I hadn't really kept up with it, but he said that there was a good online app for it. It sounded like the game had changed a lot. I'd have to look it up again. I heard a slam in the distance. Crunching stone and screeching metal. I stood up and said “I have to go . . . To the bathroom.”

=== Curt ===

I watched Kari go, smiling. It was almost like old times. Some things just came naturally. But now that she was gone, this was the perfect chance. I put down some cash for the dinner and the waitress came by as I was pulling on a coat that made me look lumpier and more awkward than I really was. “Don't clean up just yet, we'll be back. Try to hold the table for us, okay?”

She was reticent at first, but I stuffed an extra twenty in her hand and she just smiled and nodded and went back to check in on another table. I headed to the bathroom, slipping on my augmented reality glasses and when I turned down the hall, I snapped. The world went sideways for a moment, but I found myself in the lobby of a building with polished, marble floors behind a plant. Before I came to the date, I had mapped out some of the cameras. At least the ones on the outside and a few in the lobby. I looked around carefully. The guard hadn't noticed me yet. Good. I mapped out the cameras, highlighting them with my glasses. There were few blind spots. Makes sense, I guess. EnGin wouldn't skimp out on security. Not with the stuff that they make. I sketched out some rough calculations with the help of my AR system. I concentrated on one of my projected blind spots and snapped my finger. My stomach lurched as I appeared there. That's why I ate light. Teleportation is rough on the stomach. I stalked over to the elevator. There was no helping it. I had tried to find floor plans, but somehow they were always unavailable for public review. And worse is an elevator is a death box. You're trapped. The equations for teleporting when you're moving are incredibly complicated. Momentum is hard to lose even when you appear somewhere else.

It was possible to negate, but you have to be willing to either be physics' plaything or really really good at math on the fly. Or program something that is. And that's why I was here. I had found a powerful predictive algorithm in Marcelli's systems that allowed him to predict all races with a 1% margin for error. Everything from horse racing to illegal street racing. It took so much into account. It was a marvelous program. And I had started butchering it to make it do what I wanted to. I got into the elevator and pressed a random floor. It didn't really matter. There was a camera in here and I just needed the elevator as a platform. Before the doors were closed I snapped my fingers, having calculated approximately how high the elevator was. Teleporting blind was really dangerous, too. If I was off, I might end up getting stuck in a wall or slicing myself in half. That's why I invented the AR map and had specific places I could come back to whenever I wanted. Default spots. The elevator started to move and I waited for it to stop before snapping again. The doors of the elevator were closing on a pair of people and they might have seen me. Fuck! I hate teleporting blind. I had to hurry, in case they did. I pulled on a mask to hide my face. I got to the stairs and looked around. With these, I had access to the whole place. I checked every floor, trying to avoid the cameras as best as I could, marking them as I went. If I appeared for a frame or two, that was fine. Human eyes would barely register me.

Eventually, I got to the floor I wanted. R&D. Excellent. They'll have the chip I need. EnGin had developed a nano-chip that was thinner than a hair and about the size of a piece of dust that was capable of quantum computing, the ability to do math in almost an instant with the right software. I went around and mapped the cameras. Popping in and out of existence with a snap of my fingers. There was a tightness in my chest. There almost always was when I was on a job. Nerves saved my life more than once. But they also could fuck things up. When I found the lab, a fidgeting foot set off a floor sensor.

“Damn it! This is why I wanted to have Cherry on this job. To avoid exactly this,” I exclaimed. The nano-chip was floating in a stasis field. This was supposed to be a recon job. That's all. Just learn where the cameras are. What their security was like. But if I don't take it now, I may never get a chance. I frowned then snapped my fingers, appearing before the stasis field. I looked around the lab. There was another stasis container about the size of a two liter. If the nano-chip touched air, it could offset it. Dust molecules were enough to unsettle it. I was going to have to update my rig to use it. I hadn't made the modifications yet, because I didn't know exactly what it would require. Not until I got the specs for it. I popped to the computer and slid in a USB. The screen flashed alive. A login screen appeared for a few seconds, then it was logging in. The program in the USB started scanning for blueprints, patents, and specifications and when it found any at all, it started a download. In the meantime, I grabbed the stasis bottle, dug through the cabinets, and found two batteries. I slotted one into the main slot and one into the backup. The chip was surrounded by a stasis field, which would repel me. Another reason that I wanted Cherry on the job. I did some quick calculations and grabbed the USB which had finished its job. Their cybersecurity was shit, fortunately for me. I took out a multitool I kept with me and removed some panels from the stasis field. It was a mess of wires. Probably some dummy wires.

I didn't have time to figure out what was what. So I set up a few portals. I could queue them to appear as long as the queue wasn't more than a few seconds long. Another thing that I might be able to figure out how to extend with the chip. I cut all of the wires at the same time, figuring I'd already tripped the alarm. No use in subtlety now. The stasis field died. I dropped the stasis bottle, now open through a portal, which appeared under the chip. It fell in. There was a rush of air. I pulled the stasis bottle back out and capped it. I could see the little chip floating among bouncing blue waves. Good. Then I heard a voice cry out. “Esvanir! Stop where you are!”

I stood up and looked out from the other side of the stasis machine. “Smash Gal. Fuck.”