Eric Stever - Non Metallic

“Damn. I thought that would work,” the guard said, but it spoke in Mentissa’s voice. “Regardless, your plan is dreadful.”

Bob-Ten readied his fist, felt the old anger rise in him. It was a few beats too late though, as the guard/Mentissa raised its weapon.

“The thing about your quaint plan Bob, is that you have no real goal beyond fighting. You’ll rely on luck and hope to get you through. But where exactly are you trying to go?”

“Then what, we give up?” Bob-Ten growled.

The guard dropped to the ground again, and Mentissa strode forward, appearing from nowhere. She pushed her sharp features close to his, let him feel the heat from her body. A strand of silver hair, fine as silk, brushed against the side of his cheek.

“There are too many steps between you and the ones you really want to kill, too many summer-soldiers when what you want are the kings and priests.”

She could hypnotize him, Bob-Ten thought, but only in the way a woman can always ensnare a man. Mentissa smiled as if she realized this.

“What?” he mumbled, afraid his bad breath might cause her to move, to break eye contact. Those gray eyes not spinning or whirling, but appraising him. Would she consider it? War did strange things to strange people.

Mentissa spoke softly to him. “I mean that killing slaves won’t help us win the war. The guards and the other creatures are just slaves. We want the masters, and this little boy is our ticket.” She didn’t break eye contact, but Bob-Ten heard her foot thud into the guard’s abdomen.

Bob-Ten wanted to break away but still couldn’t. He knew she was leading him, that he wasn’t totally immune. “How do we do that?”

Mentissa smiled, looked down long enough for Bob-Ten to feel panic, then leaned in closer. “I can embody this Sightful now, control it. That means eventually I can embody its master, then work up the chain of command. But while I do that I need someone to protect my body, feed me, alert me to danger.”

Bob-Ten nodded, wanting to agree to anything at all. His plan had failed so why not? He snapped back into the familiar role of a sidekick.

“What else Mentissa?” he asked. Her name felt electric on his lips.

“I need you to go see a man for me, over in Dark Corridors, a place called Chrome Street.”

Mentissa looked up at him, and he felt a tingle that had nothing to do with hypnosis. “I need some Heroine-6.”

Somewhere in a faraway and wiser part of himself, Bob-Ten chuckled. Heroine-6 was a dangerously addictive psychic amplifier. But what else would he expect from an evil genius?

He stared into her eyes, and then followed the path of all good sidekicks.

Bob-Ten agreed to do it.

It was sunset by the time Bob-Ten the sidekick entered the part of Lago City known as Dark Corridors. The wind coming off of the lakes blew cold here jabbing at his exposed legs like thousands of tiny needles. Before the invasion this place had been run-down, decrepit. But now it just looked like everything else. It was normal to him.

It had been easy to escape with Mentissa’s help, and he had crushed the larynx of a Sightful guard that she was slow to hypnotize. Maybe she had been slow, Bob-Ten thought, but maybe he had been angry at himself for giving in so quickly. He needed to blow off some steam.

And now he was here in Dark Corridors, looking for the man. Looking for his fix. Bob-Ten sent a garbage can in his path flying against the wall. What would his brother think? They used to crack the heads of users just for a warm-up. Now he walked alone. A sidekick to an evil genius.

Bob-Ten walked toward a group of dirty men gathered around a burning couch. They were arguing. He thought that was good because he felt like arguing too, maybe fighting. There were six of them, so it was a fair fight, assuming they were all human.

“’Cause I told you to get the phone books, Sertain,” one of the men said, agitated. He was dressed in a green couch cushion, giving his shoulders a wide flair. He gestured at the couch, which had the sharp smell of gasoline.

Another man in the group leaned in, warming by the fire, his neck covered in hundreds of bead necklaces that covered a torn pink t-shirt reading “Baby Girl”. “You ain’t using this couch now, you ain’t using it later. You said ‘get the fire going Sertain’, so I did what we always—”

“Shut up Sertain,” another in the group said, gesturing at Bob-Ten.

The men turned as a whole. And for a while there was only the sound of the couch burning, and the wind blowing off the lake.

Bob-Ten tensed as the man with beaded necklaces, Sertain, walked toward him. Having the strength of six men didn’t mean he could defeat all six. Why hadn’t he thought this through? Sertain reached out slowly and touched Bob-Ten’s neck.

“It’s not me you’re worried about,” Sertain said softly. “It’s the one in that upper window who’s got his aim on you right now. Optonian, human, superhero, whatever you are, he’s gonna take you out.”

Sertain’s fingers squeezed Bob’s neck and worked their way to the side of his head. He turned back to the group. “He’s not modified,” he said, loud enough for the street to hear him. “Probably too ugly for the Optonians to take.”

Bob-Ten grinned, but then faltered. He was a superhero after all. Would they sell him anything? He had to play it cool.

“I’m here to buy some drugs.”

For a beat there was only the hiss of burning fabric. Then the group of men laughed.

“To buy what?” Sertain asked.

Bob-Ten’s face went tight. What if they wouldn’t sell it to him. “Drugs… Heroine-6.”

“DrugsHeroineSix?” Sertain said, with a mocking smile. “Times, do we have any DrugsHeroineSix for this ugly, superho, sell-out?”

One of the other men shook his head. “Never heard of that,”

Bob-Ten shuffled his feet. “How did you know I’m a superhero?” And more importantly, he thought, is there really someone aiming a weapon at me right now, or was that a bluff? His brother would have known, would have planned this out.

“Let’s see,” Sertain said. “You show up here, by yourself, in the daylight. Never captured by the Optonians ’cause you’re not branded.” His eyes rolled up the front of Bob-Ten’s robe. “And you haven’t missed a meal.”

“No, I mean yeah I’m a… I was a superhero, me and my brother, we was a team. But that’s all over now, right?”

Sertain narrowed his eyes, took a step forward, his necklaces clacking against each other. “And so now you want to drown your troubles in the strongest drug we got?” Sertain shook his head, and his necklaces shook with him. Clickity-clack. “No way, don’t believe it. This is what’s really going on. You can’t beat them,” he said pointing at the Optonian ships in the sky. “So you want to beat us, get your confidence back.”

Bob-Ten felt his heartbeat quicken, and wondered if it was the last time. Sertain was right. He had come here to take the drugs, to fight these men, maybe to die. But seeing them up close, really seeing them, Bob-Ten knew something else. It was the human criminals that knew how to fight powers greater than them. They knew when to hide, and when to stand.

Bob-Ten understood he had walked into a trap. If he was going to survive he would have to be quick, play to his strengths. Bob-Ten reached under his skirt and took out the plaz-gun. He pointed it at Sertain.

“This will kill all six of you, even if I die,” he said.

Sertain smiled, but started to back away. “And?”

“And, it will kill any superhero too,” Bob-Ten said. He threw the gun at Sertain’s feet. His smile felt tight and false but it was there when he needed it. “I got ten more, just like it. You can use it to protect yourselves, ambush the Optonians, or start an empire. I don’t give a damn. Like I said, the old ways are over. If you’re fighting the Optonians then you’re on my side whether you admit it or not.”