Peter Clines - Ex-Heroes

“Are you sure?” She stood in front of the ladder and held her arms out to either side.

“Stop putting it off and strip,” he said with a smirk.

“Fuck you.” She blinked a few commands to the suit’s computer, whispered a passcode, and across the armor two dozen matchbooksized panels popped open to expose bolts. The wide collar of armor slid apart to reveal another four sockets. “The head first.”

“Yeah I know.” He stepped up the ladder and looked her in the eyes. “We’ve done this a couple dozen times now.”

“Sorry.”

Gorgon slid the Allen wrench into the collar and worked out each of the front bolts. A few minutes later he reached around the armored skull and loosened the two in the back. He pocketed the wrench and grabbed the helmet with both hands. “Ready?”

Cerberus nodded, the faint hum of the battle suit vanished, and its eyes went gray as it stiffened into a statue. He heaved and the armor’s sixty-pound head came up. He heard a faint hiss as seals opened, half a dozen clicks as USB plugs popped out of sockets, and then a deep breath.

Danielle had pale skin that made her freckles stand out. Her strawberry-blonde hair was damp and plastered in strings against her forehead. She winced at the sudden expanse of open space, blinked a couple times, and tried to peek over the armored collar. “Got it?”

“Yes, I’ve got it,” he sighed. He stepped down the ladder and set the helmet down in one of the cradles near the laptop. “You reek, you know that? How long have you been in there?”

“Thirty-nine hours.”

He climbed back up the ladder and attacked the bolts on her left shoulder. Fifteen minutes later the armored limb was in its own cradle and he was working on the next one.

She shook out her hand and squeezed the fingers into a fist two or three times. Her arm was sheathed in black Lycra. It looked skinny and frail compared to the rest of the battlesuit.

Gorgon moved the ladder behind her. Six bolts held the back half of the torso in place. He finished the last one and tapped her on the head. “Ready to get out?”

She wrapped her arms around the suit’s chest and nodded.

The armor plates scraped apart and the torso split down the sides. The back half was the size of a car hood. Six interlocking plates attached to a titanium spine weighing three hundred pounds. Gorgon tipped the section toward himself, took a step down the ladder, and let it drop into his arms. He took a few steps back and set it down on one of the tables.

Danielle twisted her head back. “Good?”

He stepped up the ladder and put a hand on the small of her back just below a harness strap. The Lycra was damp with sweat. “Got you.”

She let go of the chest plate and dropped back. He got his arms around her, took another step up, and lifted. She wiggled her hips and her legs slid free of the armor.

“Jesus,” he said. “You stink like a locker room.”

“Shut up and put me down. And watch your hands for once.”

He let her legs drop and she put weight on her feet. Her knees buckled and she grabbed at him.

“Sure you’re good?”

Her skintight suit let him see every tremble and quiver. “I’m fine,” she said. “It just takes a minute.” She took a few wobbly steps until she was used to being human again and stumbled to the nearest table.

“We’ve still got about forty minutes if you want to shower.”

Danielle stretched a pair of cables from the laptop to the helmet. “You’re not exactly springtime fresh yourself,” she said.

He glanced down at the wet spot she’d left on his chest. “Yeah, well, that’s why I always bring a spare.” He peeled off his tee-shirt and tossed it on the table near the armor’s right arm.

A longer cable unspooled to the back section on the next table. She seated it and accessed the main processors along the armor’s spine. Her attention went to the laptop and made it clear she had no interest in seeing his very broad and naked torso. A few strokes on the mousepad activated a set of diagnostic programs and she glanced over the screen to watch him pull the fresh shirt across his chest.

“I’m going to hit the shower,” she said. “Are you going to wait?”

He shrugged. “If you want.”

She nodded at the flimsy curtain separating the bathroom from the workspace. “I’m trusting you to at least act like a gentleman.”

“I’ll be working on my goggles with my back to you.”

Danielle rolled her eyes and wondered if he was ever going to take the hint. A minute later she was surrounded by the comfort of the tiny shower stall. She left the curtain open just enough so it didn’t look deliberate. Not enough she felt exposed. Ten minutes later she walked from the shower to her bedroom in a wet towel and bared her teeth at his back.

“Set,” she said a few minutes later.

“Wait there.” He gave one of the tiny screwdrivers a half turn and tapped the trigger a few times. On the workbench, his goggles flashed open and shut. Another slight adjustment, another test, and he lifted the lenses back to his face.

“You good?” She’d walked up right behind him.

He turned. “Yeah. Thanks for the tools.”

“No problem. Let’s get this over with.”

She killed the overheads at the door, leaving a circle of light at the center of the room. The last sections of the armor still stood between the workbenches, headless, armless, and backless. The power cable ran off into the darkness. Only a few hours and she could have it back on.

* * * *

Gorgon scowled across the table. “What’s he doing here?” Josh sighed and turned to St. George. “I told you this would be a waste of time.”

“He is here because I asked him to be,” said Stealth. “Why?” asked Danielle. “Connelly’s our senior doctor. If anyone should be here it’s her.”

“Because he understands the virus,” said Stealth. “And he understands us.”

“And Doctor Connelly’s setting a broken arm right now,” said Josh. “Nice to see you, too, Danielle.” Barry placed his palms on the table and hefted himself up out of the wheelchair. He swung his butt onto the tabletop. There were half a dozen pictures of the prisoner scattered across Stealth’s usual collection of maps. “You are all aware of this new development. The Seventeens have found a means of keeping their intellect and awareness when they transform into exes. It would appear they still pose a threat to us.” She held up one of the photographs. “Eduardo, last name unknown. He claims to be here under the orders of the gang’s boss, an individual by the name of Peasy.

According to Gorgon, the number and style of Eduardo’s tattoos indicate he has only been with the Seventeens for a few months at best, which would be the proper rank for such an assignment.” Danielle blinked. “They’re still initiating people?” Gorgon nodded. “It’s what they do. The gang just exists to grow, build up prestige, grab territory. There’s no outside system left, but they still want the power.”

“Next question,” said St. George. “Have many of the Seventeens changed? Are most of them exes?”

“I dropped over a dozen of them when they attacked the other night. They’re still alive. The majority of them, at least. And all five prisoners were alive when they were brought in.”

“Are you sure your power doesn’t work on the …” St. George shrugged. “On the smart ones? Maybe they’re different somehow.”

“I tried Eduardo in the cell. No effect. He’s dead.”

“About that,” asked Barry, “did all the prisoners change?” Stealth set her fist on the table and rested on her knuckles.

“The two who committed suicide both became exes. So far only Eduardo has shown signs of intelligence.”