VELVETEEN vs. Recovery #4
On the fifth roof, Velveteen stopped, creeping to the edge again before she gave a little hop of delight and signaled for him to come closer.
She held up three fingers, then pointed.
Action Dude followed the angle of the gesture.
Three men lurked in the alley across the street, their attention fixed on a woman who was walking briskly toward them, rummaging in her purse the whole time.
She was paying no attention to her surroundings, so close to her car that she probably thought she was home free.
Action Dude nodded. It was possible the men weren’t planning to do anything wrong.
They weren’t wearing masks or carrying visible weapons.
Superhero insurance covered a lot of things.
Property damage, injuries sustained by individuals who had been actively committing a crime when apprehended, even injuries sustained by the people they had been trying to save.
It did not cover injuries sustained by individuals who just really enjoyed lurking in alleys.
(Every so often someone who had taken the works of Philip K.
Dick a little too far to heart would start babbling about “pre-crime” and the duty of the superhuman to protect mankind from itself.
The hero and villain communities were united in thinking that this sort of thought-policing was a step too far for either good or evil, and had dutifully ignored—and occasionally poisoned; half of them were villains, after all—anyone who suggested it.)
The woman reached the mouth of the alley. One of the men reached out and grabbed her. She screamed, high and shrill and terrified.
Action Dude looked at the smile on Velveteen’s face and thought the muggers were about to learn a very important lesson about true fear.
* * *
Because it was Velveteen’s show, Action Dude had been more than happy to hang back in his charcoal-colored stealth suit and watch as she and her army of highly motivated toys descended on the poor, unsuspecting muggers like the wrath of a highly ironic god.
She couldn’t fly, but she had mastered the art of using small flying helicopters, their vacant cartoon faces distorted into grimaces of malicious glee, to slow her fall.
It might have been better if the muggers had never seen what hit them.
As it was, Action Dude was pretty sure that their prison terms were going to be followed by a lengthy time under the care of a psychiatrist. The one on the left, for example, was probably never going to see a fashion doll without screaming again.
Those tiny stiletto heels were sharp. Anyone who thought toys had to be chrome and shaped like weapons to do damage had clearly never been besieged by an entire herd of angry plastic horses.
When the dust had settled and the screaming had stopped, Velveteen picked up the woman’s purse from the sidewalk, offered it back to her, and said, “Here. This is yours.”
The woman took it cautiously, watching the various plush toys for signs that they were about to attack. “Um,” she said. “Thank you?”
“It was my pleasure,” said Velveteen. She hesitated. “Look, I don’t mean to be a rescue-and-request girl, but I’m sort of not licensed for Kansas City. Can you do me a huge favor and not, you know, mention exactly who saved you?”
The woman’s eyes widened. “You’re Velveteen,” she said. “I thought you might be, but then I thought no, no way. No one’s seen you in weeks.”
“I got hurt,” said Velveteen. It wasn’t quite a lie: the hollows of her cheeks and the bruises under her eyes made it endlessly believable. “I’m supposed to be resting, but I was getting cabin fever, so they let me out for a little bit. Please, can you keep this secret? For me?”
“Absolutely,” said the woman. Before Velveteen could react, she grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug.
“Thank you,” said the woman again, voice slightly muffled by the tangle of Velveteen’s hair.
“What you did…my nephew is an elementalist. He’s going to get training and stay with our family, and it’s because you made them change their rules.
We owe you so much. Of course I’ll keep your secret. ”
“Thank you,” whispered Velveteen, and pulled away.
The woman stood there watching silently as Velveteen walked across the street and vanished into the shadows. If she saw the flicker of motion from the nearby rooftop, she didn’t say anything. She just waited until she was sure Velveteen was gone before turning and heading, finally, to her car.
* * *
They stepped through the mirror together, Velveteen laughing a little as she leaned on Action Dude’s arm, her face flushed with exertion and her army of toys sticking to her heels.
Not for the first time, Action Dude wondered how she could ever fit them all on her belt; there had to be a small amount of matter manipulation built into her power set, tucked off to one side, where almost no one noticed it.
The Princess, who had been curled in an overstuffed chair reading through a stack of romance novels, looked up at the sound of their footsteps and smiled, rising gracefully as she set her book aside. “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she said. “How was your night of freedom, sweetheart?”
“Amazing,” said Velveteen. If the hand she had braced on Action Dude’s arm shook slightly, he was too polite to mention it. “Thank you both so much.”
“Just keep getting better,” said the Princess. Night Shift—one iteration of her, anyway—stepped out of the hallway, and Velveteen found herself summarily bundled away, back to bed, back to her recovery.
The Princess turned to Action Dude. “Thank you for keeping an eye on her tonight. Everything go all right?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Action Dude, thinking of a smile bright enough to light the sky, of laughter ringing out over the unforgettable sounds of plastic hitting flesh. “Everything was great.”
“Good,” said the Princess. “Now get out.” She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Action Dude behind. He waited until he was sure he was alone before he groaned and put his hands over his face.
“Fuck,” he said. “I am so screwed.”
Nothing in the Crystal Glitter Unicorn Cloud Castle saw fit to argue.