Damselfly 2.5 Back Nine

 

Looking like a coach carrying a couple of school equipment bags, Steve Sunderman, the original Mighty Skarab, trotted through the sticker patches and wild mustard growing in the shallow wash between his house and the ruined peach orchard where Kevin and I sat at a broken picnic table, sucking down the dregs of our Cokes and Mountain Dews. The screen of trees between us did not conceal our presence or his approach, besides, Kevin was already waving. "Back here, Unk," he called.

My wannabe-partner in future superheroics had just informed me that our ancient relative was one of the so-called 300; the most powerful metahumans on Planet Earth. "Gumpy?" I said, using my mom's nickname for him since he was two generations further back from being just my grandfather.

He trotted up the last little way just then. "You kids enjoy your lunch?" he asked, putting the equipment bags down against the picnic table.

"Yeah," said Kevin. "Thanks, Unk."

"It was good," I agreed. "But I wouldn't say I enjoyed it. Still, thanks and all."

"She's still grumpy about having boobs," said Kevin.

I threw a wadded-up empty Doritos bag at him and it bounced off somewhere. Steve and Kevin both laughed which did nothing to make me feel better about myself.

"What is it with you two?" I said, trying not to sound whiney. "Why are you being so insensitive? I'm…." I had to swallow to be able to keep talking. "I'm mad, upset and angry about what the ring did to me and you guys keep laughing!"

Kevin shrugged. "We're guys," he said.

"Ouch," said Gumpy. "You're not helping." But he couldn't hide his big Sunderman grin.

"MHP," said Kevin, swatting at the aluminum can I threw at his head. He sent it arcing into the nearest peach tree.

Steve looked from one of us to the other.

"Maximum Humor Potential," I told him. "Kevin's mantra, he always tries to say the funniest thing he can think of. It's part of his course in First Year Assholery. Especially if it is inappropriate and especially if its to me."

"Hey," said Kevin. "I apologized earlier and besides, you told me you didn't want me to treat you any different now."

"That's why I'm throwing soda cans instead of chunks of concrete," I said.

He laughed. I threw another can. He swatted it back at me, and I swatted it to him again. Little droplets of Mountain Dew flew from the can as we batted it back and forth, fifteen or twenty times, faster and faster, higher and wider until we both had to lean this way or that, then even run a bit to make the next hit. It didn't seem to be difficult for either of us to keep the rally going until Gumpy ended the game by grabbing the can out of midair and crushing it more than it was.

He grinned at both of us. "You're already finding out what you can do; your reflexes are three times as fast as normal people."

And neither Kevin nor I had even started breathing hard.

My hands felt sticky and I wanted to wipe them on something. When I glanced at them, I saw it wasn't just soda but little drops of blood, too. The can, battered again and again, had started coming apart into sharp edges and neither of us noticed we were being cut. I opened my mouth to say something but before I could speak, the little nicks and gouges on my hands sealed up and disappeared.

"Rapid healing, too," said Gumpy. "Healing factor is the third commonest meta-talent, but you two have the fast version."

"Jeebus, Unk," said Kevin staring at his own hands.

"It's more than just a nice thing to be able to do, like playing ping-pong with a tin can. Healing factor is what makes being a super possible." He glanced at me as if he meant to add more, but he paused while I looked really closely at my hand.

"Huh," I said. I couldn't find a mark on it. I flexed my fingers and made a fist. It didn't hurt at all, either.

"Not that you can keep doing that forever, you've got so much energy and when you start running low, you start getting hurt, harder and for longer." Gumpy went on. "And something that hurts you a lot all at once, like getting hit with a car or a bullet, that takes a lot of energy out of you all at once."

"Bullets?" I said, frowning at him.

"Cool!" said Kevin, looking eager.

"Moron!" I said. "He means people will be shooting at us!"

"And we're okay with that," said Kevin. "If we can't dodge the bullets, we can heal even if we do get hit."

I rolled my eyes but lost the force of my exasperation when I realized I was standing there in a Tanya pose, hands on my hips and leaning a bit forward, the stance she took when she wanted to warn someone she had better get her own way. I did not want to turn into my sister but when I crossed my arms under my boobs as an alternative, that felt worse and made an even worser mental image. Gah!

"The best idea is not to get hit," said Gumpy. "Even a ricochet that bounces off is going to hurt. And if someone hits you in the head, you're going down. And you better hope you can get back up…."

No one said anything for a moment. Could an insect-powered overman regrow an eye or a brain? It didn't seem likely. It sure took my mind off how much I probably looked like Tanya.

"Anybody ever get killed doing this, Unk?" Kevin finally asked.

Steve nodded slowly. "I'll tell you later. But kids, you don't want to be afraid of dying. It doesn't hurt as much as failing your partner does."

"You would know?" I asked.

He smiled like an old, old man. "Vincent Rochambeaux isn't the only meta who has had to bury a partner or spend time in Hades' Court."

Kevin had told me that Gumpy had come back from the dead more than once but hearing the old man say it was… impressive? I'm not sure why but all I could do was stare at him for a moment. And the bit about burying a partner; I knew he probably meant the first Damselfly, my great-great-grandmother Josephine, who like me, first put the ring on as a boy.

Gumpy shook the mood off and said, "I'll tell you later, there's lots to tell. But right now, the important thing is to get started on your training. I've planned things to make it more fun."

"I'm not ready to have fun," I said.

For some reason, that amused the two morons as much as anything I had ever said. They laughed like jackasses and I stood there trying to resist putting my hands on my hips again. I didn't say anything; everything I wanted to say sounded too much like my sister throwing a snit fit.

"C'mon, kids," said Gumpy after wiping his eyes and shouldering one of the equipment bags again. "Let's get on to the back nine and do some training."

Kevin grabbed the other bag without even being told; Aunt Marlette would not have believed it. He and the old man trotted through the screen of peach trees to reveal a little pasture as big as three city blocks or so, set off by a sandy berm on two sides, the orchard on one and the creek bed on the other.

I followed them down the little embankment to floor of the canyon. I'm still not sure why I went along even that much, but I began to wish I had on sturdier shoes than the little folding slipper-things I had found in the garage closet. Not that my feet hurt, but I could see stones and thorns and who knew, there might be nails or broken glass hidden in the pasture. Then again, I had healing factor, didn't I?

Gumpy dropped his bag and looked at Kevin and I, "You two want to get into uniform?"

I shook my head, but Kevin said, "Sure!" He dropped his bag beside the other and grabbed my right with his left then held out his other hand for me to twist the jewel on the ring.

"Let me wear the ring and you twist it," I suggested. I didn't want to co-operate in wearing that stupid costume any more than I had to.

Kevin looked doubtful.

"We'll take turns," I suggested, easing up a little.

Kevin grinned. "Ladies first?" he said, taking the ring off. "But before I give this to you, another agreement."

"What?" I said, grabbing for the ring.

He held it out of reach, reminding me that the doofus was several inches taller than me now. "That I get to call you 'Darla' when you're a girl and not in costume, and you won't get mad."

I scowled. "Why can't you just call me 'Darryl'? It's my name."

"Doesn't feel right, you don't look like a Darryl."

I didn't even want to mention Daryl Hannah, the actress, who spelled her name with only one 'r,' she was tall and beautiful and I was short and.... I didn't want to think about the word cute. "Gumpy!" I protested to Steve.

The old man just stood there like he'd been carved from stone mined in his father's little village back in Elbonia. He had a faraway look in his eye even though he must have seen us standing there arguing.

"Look," said Kevin. "How you gonna convince the ring spirit to let you turn into a boy unless you go along with being a girl when it's necessary?"

"That doesn't make any sense!" I yelped.

Steve finally spoke. "Kevin, give me the ring."

Must have been something in the way he said it, Kevin instantly gave him the ring. Steve slipped it onto his own sausage-size finger which it magically fit, and then he held out a hand to each of us. "Darryl, grab my hand and Kevin, grab hers then reach and twist the ring."

We grabbed his hand; it didn't seem wise not to do what he said. I didn't even protest him calling me 'her.'

Kevin reached up and twisted the ring. I felt the ripple go through me, not as strong as when it first happened, but it didn't have to turn me into a girl this time. I looked down at myself—green and yellow skintight costume with the oval cutouts showing cleavage and thigh. Something added different though, the circles around my boots were magenta, and I had on a yellow belt showing a green stone in the buckle.

Steve, right in front of me had on a blue-black costume now with red boots, gloves and blue-jeweled belt and a bluer outline of a scarab beetle on his chest.

I heard a "Yipe!" to my left and turned to look. A girl stood there in the Maidenfly costume, magenta with green on the boots and yellow on the gloves but no belt or jewel. Kevin had been turned into Maidenfly!

"Now," said Steve to me. "I'm sure you'll let Karen call you Darla, won't you?"