Paresthesia Pt. 06

She fails in just the same way I did. She looks down to the tantalizing gaze and realizes how small she really is. She is falling, she is tumbling, and she is losing control with the simple act of lick and kiss. My hands, my fingers touch me a bit a harder, little more grip, little more strength. I am still sensitive and hollow, but I still yearn for the vice embrace.

Hannah keeps falling, more stars in the sky to collapse from and I offer no rope to pull her back up. I throw my head back and stretch, letting the half hard sway and dip. I flex and it bobs before my hands go back to steady and stroke. Good, a mind numbing good that does not tip the scale, start the fall, I feel good watching her torture.

She whines again like a tea kettle and can't seem to keep anything inside anymore. Tense, tense enough to shatter a skull, and I can only imagine how Kieran is holding on. I assume experience. I probably wouldn't survive something like that.

And it is the silence that finally comes when she has reached the end of her fall. The noises all fall away, even the ones that come from Kieran. She rests her head on Hannah's stomach and I loathe the fact that I cannot see her face from this angle. I can just see her back slowly rise and fall from her breath.

She is steady in the onslaught of Hannah's release. The long whine winds through the air. I feel bad for the snakes. I don't know if they can hear, but if they can, this can't be pleasant. It's not really all that nice for me. She sounds much better when her thighs muffle the noise. But still, watching both of them rock and sway with the wavering note is captivating. Alessandra still looks better from behind, but I do not disparage any art for simply existing. Kieran does a lot more than just exist.

The whine falls in pitch to a low moan and Hannah's legs simply give out. There is no strength to tense them anymore. Slack and twitching, resting on Kieran's back, while the head tilts and simply stops thinking about anything at all. She is there and there is a tongue and hand slowly drawing everything out into blinding stardust. I am not there. The chair is not there. the room, the walls, the ceiling all slowly fade as her eyes glaze over and tremors wrack her body.

The noise stops and Kieran stands, looking very pleased with herself. Side to side, I watch the muscles move against one another. Not quite as toned as Hannah, not quite as fleshy and pert as Alessandra, but heavy and moving and mesmerizing. I do not look away when she sees me ogling. I don't think I can.

"What's the timer say?" she asks of me. With the dregs of my will, I turn my head to the clock on the end table. I smile.

"I win," I say, "I held out longer."

"No way," moans Hannah, "I don't believe you. Challenge the call. Ref, ref, red card that man."

"He's right, sweetie," Kieran says, "Not by a lot, but he did hold out longer. You'll just have to try harder next time."

"He cheated. He did the time thing. There's no way that he lasted longer than me without cheating.

I sit smug and sure and terribly self-assured of everything that I am. I held out longer. The clock said so. The referee said so. I say so. If Hannah does not want to accept the simple fact that I am better than her, then that is her reality to ignore. It does not change the fact. Nothing she can say or do or whine about will. I did not cheat and I won and that means I'm better than her. I still love her and will support her in whatever she does. But I won.

Kieran, our loving contestant, host, producer and whatever else the world deems she is, gets us both more water. I needed it. Hannah definitely needed it. Kieran might have needed it, but I would definitely bet she wanted it. It's hard work, doing this game we decided to play.

"If you give us a few moments," I say with a deep stretch, "We can do something with you."

That seems to mollify Hannah a bit. I have no doubts she is better at attending to her. Allow her to get back some pieces of her shattered pride. But alas, her pride shall remain in tiny, dashed pieces.

"That's sweet of you, but I'm good," she sighs, "There is pleasure to be hand just in the act of giving, and I think I gave the both of you more than enough."

"I can't argue with that," I say, "Damn. Just damn."

"Boo. I don't want to be done," Hannah says. Her legs move to get her to standing, but the cause and effect of us all denies her yet again. They wobble and shake and end of giving out on her. She hits the floor before either of us can save her from her overextension. I try to help, but my own strength only gets me halfway towards her before I have to sink. At least I have the dignity to slowly lower myself down instead of flop and flail.

"I think you are though," I say. I kiss her nose and that doesn't seem to make her feel any better. I don't know why. It would make me feel better.

"Kieran, Kieran. Come join us on the floor. It's nice and cool. There's a certain dignity to just lying on the floor."

The woman in question, the only one of us still in control of her body in every way, decides that coming down to tour level might actually be a good change of pace. And it is nice to just lie here and bask in the dignity of being below everyone else.

"So, I assume the both of you are staying the night," she says.

"If that's ok. We'll duck out early. We have a thing to do," Hannah says as she moves to lie in the crook of her arm.

"Is it a stealing things thing?"

"No."

"I'm going to pretend to believe you. And of course, it's ok. I'll admit, I like the cool floor. But I also like a warm bed."

I put my head on her stomach and try to stretch out the aches and tremors. I get most of them, but there is still a wobble and a teeter by the time we all decide that a mattress would be much better than floor.

---

I feel bad. I feel good. I feel both competing and jostling in my mind for space to drip and form and take over every part of my being. I feel good in my joints, my muscles, my shoulders. Everything there sags in the best way. I am loose and flowing as the train car rattles along the tracks. Nothing seems to bother the body, even the sway and jostle of our metal bullet coffin cocooning me doesn't seem to be all that bad.

I feel bad in my stomach, my head, my fingers. My head aches and throbs with the rattle of the tracks. Clear enough call and response, but still, it is rather unpleasant. Hannah feels better, but not by much. My stomach, though, is a bit more complicated. The aftereffects of today's joy borrowed last night, the debt is paid from now. But there is another little twist that comes from the red eyes boring into me. I look out the window at the various posters plastering the subway tunnel. They are much more forgiving than Alessandra.

She has most of her kit on, save for the long coat and mask. She sits with crossed legs and spread arms, trying to burn me a live with a glare that could scare small children into studious enterprises and financial success. She is trying to figure out whether or not to go over the plan again, if me and Hannah are worth the effort of clarification. We are alone in the rattling car. My neon green fin signaled enough danger to everyone involved that commutes are best taken elsewhere. I wouldn't mind. Public transport is an important part of any civic endeavor and it should be open to all. Or maybe the John and Jane Q. Public are afraid of the demon woman seething in anger.

"I'm not mad at you," Alessandra says.

"You're mad at us," says Hannah, "Only people who are mad say they aren't mad. That's when they're the maddest."

"I'm not mad."

"You seem kind of mad," I say, "And we apologized for it. We didn't mean to get caught up like that. We should have called, sure, but we were what? 10, 15 minutes late? That's not that bad."

"Try 35. Had to wait outside the station in my full suit with all those people trying to get a picture of me. I know those are going to be online, then my mom will find them, then she'll ask what I did while I was out and it'll just be this whole big thing. So many people trying to chat me up, too. God, this city is so horny."

"Is that such a bad thing though," Hannah says, "It's fun being horny. I'm pretty sure you're horny right now."

"I'm not. There is nothing about being trapped in a small space with the two people I had a crush on when I was a teenager, obviously coming back after a night of heavy, sweaty sex, that makes me horny."

The words take a minute to sit on the air and politely inform all of us of their presence.

"Forget I said that," Alessandra says. She is not mad. Now, she is livid and annoyed and I think her arm hand friend is going to show and break something. I hope it does.

"Wait, no. No, I will not. I cannot forget that. You had a crush on us?" Hannah says, "When? Why? How? What?"

"I'm not talking about it. I just want to go to Solar's house, see if there's a card for the Hall and steal his bike. Which I will then gift to you, because it was kind of unfair that I didn't get you two anything when I showed up."

"Keep it," I say, "But you have to tell us about the crush."

"You're not going to drop it?"

"Nope," we both say. Alessandra sighs and she is annoyed and that means she likes us.

"I was just a fan, y'know? Like I had some of your posters in my room when I was growing up and you were both just a bit older than me, so it felt relatable. And it just grew from there. That's about it. Then Minuteman became Adagio and disappeared, and you got that one-piece costume and that just made things worse. It was just a normal high school celebrity crush. I know you both had something like that. Everyone does. I just got to meet mine. And sleep with them."

I can't help but giggle. It's fun. It's normal and plain and everyone has something like that. It's weird, sure, because the object on the other end is a person with their own agency, but man's inhumanity to man is an oddly humanizing and unifying thing in common. She shifts in her seat and suddenly the burning gaze doesn't seem so harsh.

"Serpentor," I say, "That was, is a big one. Weird because I worked with her, and she certainly didn't do anything to stop it. Her and Rabbitpunch."

"Vintage," Hannah says, "I didn't know you liked her. I got one on Powerbomb, he's down south, and Serpentor too. And we got to sleep with her."

That last little bit is said with obvious pride and our mutual friend turns back up to angry.

"Of course, you did. Is Violence in on this? Doppel? Deadman? Azure?"

"No, just you and her," I say, "Although, perhaps, maybe..."

She doesn't look at me as the train rattles on and the words fade away. She is not paying attention to me. She is not thinking about me and Hannah and every one of our costumed friends rolling around in a big naked cuddle puddle with things going in and out and in and out, over and over and over again. The blush across her face is from something entirely.

"So, what if we don't find a card he left," I say, "There's gotta be a backup."

"If your League is like my old, then the vehicles are also ID tagged. I know for a fact that one of his Solar Cycles is still there. It might be locked, but if the physical chip is in the thing, then we can go from there. Not guaranteed, but it's step one," Alizarin says. The blush lingers on, but the shop talk at least gets her back in control. The emotions flicker one last time, but the mask is up. All she needs to do is put on the real thing and she's the part again.

"They do have those," Riot says, "I'd honestly wouldn't be surprised if his is still active. It can take a while to update things. You were still in the system for a while when you left, Beat. Got your out of office reply and everything on emails."

"I don't even think I set those up."

"They sounded like Serpentor. Maybe it was her. I don't know. I don't think you've ever sent me an email."

The train rattles and bumps and my grip on the rail slips. A jagged hand of ruby glass pushes my chest. I am back up right. I nod and the hand nods back.

"Sorry, still kind of wobbly. Didn't even get a chance to shower after last night," I say.

"Don't brag," Alizarin says, "It just makes me madder. The east side just has a chain link fence. I brought bolt cutters, but I think I can handle it. As far as I can tell, it's not heavily staffed. A couple thumb boys out front and a perimeter. Still, don't want to get too hot in there. I don't want to bring down anyone else."

"Oh, but those are so fun," Riot says, "And you still need to meet the other guys. Deadman's cool. And Serpentor might show up. That would be so weird, but like good weird. It would be great."

"I don't want to meet them. I'm supposed to be kind of incognito, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. Roulette Club though. Next time we go, we'll drag you along."

"I'm not really one for clubbing."

"Not really a club type of place. More of a lounge, bar, thing. Think it was a speakeasy at some point."

She gives us a hard maybe and that's about as good as we're going to get. The cage rattles around a corner and I do not stumble. We're finally out of the city tunnels and back into open air. I keep looking out of the window, into the hills. On the tallest one sits a spire of glass, a glowing star sitting on top. I kind of want to make it fall. It would make a beautiful noise once it shatters.

---

It's hard to be stealthy in neon green hair. I manage. Riot and Alizarin have a better time of it. Dark colors all around, although the red is a bit much. It would work better if it was muddy. Red and brown are close enough, but it works. The helmets cut things off, it seems. The thumbs tried to see us. They really did. But they didn't and we crept around the side to the Solarium and its towering glass.

It has to get super-hot in there. It's a hot house. It tries to be a cathedral, a castle, a mansion, but it's just good for tomatoes and cucumbers and all sorts of veggies. I have ideas for it, but that's for later. A few weeks since he left, and it's already overgrown. Creeping vines and high grass, weeds and nettles and thistles. It's the hothouse vibe. It has to be. Plants know what that aura is, so they grow nice and big and wild. I appreciate them and wish them well. Long may the sun shine. That said, this thing is a fire hazard. One errant ray of sunshine and the whole hillside burns up. Really, I should smash it. I like the environment. I want to conserve it.

Alizarin takes point and just like she said, there is a simple chain link fence separating the grass on other side. Those black-red crystals of the hidden buddy pierce the skin and elongate the joints. With a hiss and an acrid coil of smoke, the chain starts to fall away into molten slag. An us sized hole later, and we are in. It's nice to not worry about an alarm.

All in all, it's a pleasant stroll through the grounds. Everything's just past that edge into wild. Riot taps my shoulder and points out a dragonfly perched so perfectly on a long string of grass. I like it. It's a nice shade of iridescent blue, almost like the Doppels when they start floating in. I tap her back and point out an eagle or a hawk overhead. I'm not sure what it is. I don't know birds other than the humble pigeon.

Alizarin stalks, shoulders hunched and profile low. We stroll. The thumbs are over there with the eyes blinded and tunnel. We need to go to more parks, more walks, more time outside the city. Doubt we'll ever move to the suburbs, but there is something to be said for greenery. Alizarin doesn't appreciate our lackadaisical nature. She should. Roses and stopping to smell them, watching days idly blend into one another until the final night. I point out a butterfly passing in front of the house. It might be a moth. I'm not sure. It's a bug with fancy wings.

Our various modes of ambling take us to the rear garage and that again falls to the clawed hand and heated ruby glass. She shakes the dregs of molten door from in-between her fingers. I don't know why she brought the bolt cutters. I brought my bat, but that's because I need it. She really doesn't need to bring anything. I take one last look at the blue sky unfiltered before stepping in.

And we come to our first hurdle as something slams shut behind us.

"Intruder alert," says a rather pleasant voice, "Captain Solar has been alerted. You are contained. Please do not resist."

The loud boom coming from behind means that Riot has immediately started resisting. I am proud of her. I hold out my bat, but she refuses the assistance. I get another loud boom for my cares and I don't think whatever came behind is going to fold to resistance. Authority in general takes a bit more than a few whacks to bring down.

"I was hoping," I sigh, "I was hoping that if I didn't say anything, it wouldn't happen. It was too easy. And everyone knows what happens when things are too easy."

Alizarin joins in the resistance, but the odd lack of sizzle and hiss mean that we are fully trapped. Oddly enough, I feel good. Things go wrong and the world crashes down around me, and I feel good. It is time to start rooting through drawers and smashing things. It's what I do best.

"So," I say with a loving thump of my bat, "We came here to steal some vehicles. But I propose a bit of a bigger task at hand. I say we case the joint, smash some smashables and take some takeables. And who knows? Maybe there's a big red button here that says lift the security grates."

"You're not even going to try and take down the wall?" Alizarin asks.

"A popular front, but I also believe in a diversity of tactics. By all means, keep trying. If you break on through, well I still get out of here. That's a win. If I find said button, then well, I get out of here and I'm right. A bit better, but I'll take either. And come on. Like seriously. Don't you have a bad bone somewhere in your bodies."

Riot hits the wall one last time, just to teach it a lesson. She brushes past me and suddenly I am the one lagging behind. I am ok with that, because I get more things to ogle.

Despite the temptations of the flesh, the temptations of steel and engine pull my attention elsewhere. The good oh captain, my captain, liked expensive things it seems. Cars, bikes, vans, the collection of things to soothe a middle ageing endemic. Despite my general disinterest for the mechanical, there is something to be said for a good solid car. Four whole wheels, an engine that murmurs, a pair of windshield wipers still sleek black and straight. I assume that is what car guys look for. That and good gas mileage and general utility.

Alizarin is entranced. Her mind is gone to the world of oil stain rainbows and gutted trunks with speakers for insides. She is smiling. I can't quite tell how far off from her ears it reaches, but it has to be close. Suddenly, the serious skulk and prowl gives way to an excited bounce. And it comes to the object of her affections for the moment.

The Solar Cycle. Unlike the predominant occupants, this poor thing only has two whole wheels. Stunted growth, it seems, the runt of the litter. Sharp angles and clear body, allowing us all to peer into the works and pretend to see how it all slots together. She keeps making happy little noises muttering words I don't quite catch. The ones I do, do not make sense. But she is happy, and I like when things I like are happy.

"I don't want to give this to you now," she says, "This is mine. Isn't that right, papi? You'll be so good to me."

"She's getting horny again," Riot singsongs.

"I am not. I just like machines. Ok? I'll stay here and get some of these ready to go once you lift the lock down."

Riot gives a thumbs up and she gets the same from me. I am eager to peruse the fort with glass and lights. I am the stone in a glass house cast from vengeance and spite. Windows will fall and walls will be ground to dust.