Electron & Berserker

“Hunter’s in.”

Pete looked up from his current project to watch an actually excited Lawrence. A sight so rare, Pete almost didn’t register what he said.

“That might be for me,” he admitted once he’d processed the words, “I messaged her about genealogies. I’ve wanted to work more on my—”

“Then come on, man,” Lawrence gestured toward the door, “Do you know how often this woman shows up.”

Pete watched Lawrence’s excitement again. Lawrence looked much like Pete’s image of Ebenezer Scrooge, thin, British, and judgmental. Seeing the man with a smile on his face frightened Pete.

“Do you have a crush?” Pete asked, “You don’t feel things, normally.”

Lawrence rolled his eyes.

“Everyone I see in the lab is a scientist, mostly in the same few subjects. Hunter is a historian, which means I actually learn something while she’s here, not to mention she’s an archaeologist.”

Lawrence made a lot of assumptions when it came to his own intelligence, and Pete wished they all were wrong. Pete knew the only reason he was head of diagnostics and not Lawrence was because Lawrence wasn’t as popular, which made it that much harder to rein the man in. He didn’t realize Lawrence understood there were things he didn’t know.

“She’ll come see me anyways,” Pete said, ignoring his realizations, “And I’ve got a man with a hyperacidic stomach trying not to explode right now, so please go listen to Indiana Jones and enjoy yourself.”

“You could show some respect if the woman dug up records for you.”

“I will,” Pete said, “By letting her regale you instead of dropping my work.”

Lawrence finally left the room so Pete could work alone. Really his patient just wanted to know how to stop his burps from stinking so much, and apparently “stop eating things that make you burp” wasn’t working for him.

“Hey, Ca—” he stopped himself before calling for his former collaborator. Catherine had left the institute, dropping all modes of contact with Pete until Mandie landed in the hospital a month ago. After a few weeks of frequently working with her, old habits had reformed, and Pete was asking someone absent for notes on the case.

“And telling her about it is unethical,” he reminded himself.

“Who’s unethical?” a rarely heard voice asked from the doorway.

Professor Viktorya Hunter had orange hair that she kept short, and wore pants of matching color today, with a green top and beige overshirt. she held in one of her hands a thick looking file.

“Is that my info?” Pete asked.

“Yeah. I’d like to note that I only lightly dabble in genealogies. Luckily you asked for superhuman families we’d have decent records of, and one of my first projects was on the Argo program and its sisters.” She placed the file on the table as she sat down.

“The Argo Program?”

“Well, America had Project Kurtzberg, but my dad’s English, so I always think of the Argo Program first. In Russia it was codenamed Signis, even after the regime change.”

Pete nodded along.

“And those are…”

“I feel like you should know this as a xenologist. They’re kind of the reason you have a job.”

Pete gestured for her to keep going.

“They were superhuman military programs. The term ‘empowered’ came from Truman commending them after the Second World War ended. These are all the files I could find of the recruits for those initial programs and their families.”

Pete started pulling the info out.

“Some of them are mages,” Hunter continued, “So I’m not sure how well they’ll map to whatever it is you’re planning, but I’m rooting for you, kid.”

“Thanks.”

Viktorya started to stand up, but Pete put a hand out.

“Do you know any other tidbits of superhuman history I have to know.”

Pete didn’t like crowds, but he did enjoy learning things.

Viktorya’s eyes scanned the room.

“I assume you know of Dante ‘The Inferno’ Gionelli,” she said, gesturing to the nameplate on his desk.

“Yes,” Pete admitted, recognizing his grandfather’s name.

“Technically he was still active until a few years ago, but he definitely changed the scene of the New York mobs, by making another one, which is still active.”

“I’m aware,” Pete said.

“Yeah…” Hunter had stopped paying attention, “There’s obviously the Mage revelation about forty years ago. I remember that one.”

“You’re old enough to remember forty years ago?” Pete asked, not yet thirty himself.

“Yeah,” Viktorya said, “Mage.”

“You look good for your age,” Pete said.

“Thank you. I don’t think about it that often, but it’s nice to be reminded I still have time.”

Pete was glad he hadn’t offended her.

Viktorya bit her lip.

“I mean that’s plenty if you don’t have—” Pete began.

“This is a rarer one, but it’s fun to know considering there’s superheroes running around, and something tells me it might be useful for you to know. Have you heard about The Coven?”

“The what?” Pete asked.

“That’s a no. The Coven is, or was probably, a little secret society of superhumans that kept in contact and helped each other, and other superhumans they found that never joined. Records start dropping off around the same time superhumans became more visible, when you would expect them to go public and become a philanthropic organization or something.”

“Would you?” Pete asked. He preferred some level of anonymity, personally.

“I would, but I spend a lot of time with Gareth Shepherd, so I may expect too much of people with power.”

“How do you even know—”

“Speaking of,” she abruptly stood up, staring at her her wrist absent of a watch, “I have a lunch to get to, and I’d rather not leave my husband waiting after I’ve been out of the country for a few months.”

Pete ushered her out.

As this was a personal project, Pete had taken his files home, and was now holed up in his bedroom with them.

Most of the recruits for the first World War were reenlisted, or had children who were, for the second. He sorted out the ones who had a name change listed without revealing what it was as that wouldn’t do him much help, and froze on the next file.

Harold Piec II, Living Radio, Sensitive Hearing. Espionage and non-combat scenarios. Greek Immigrant, awarded citizenship.

He grabbed the nearest phone and dialed Cate’s number, which never answered.

“Again?” he asked before redialing.

No answer.

He attempted a third time.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you call, who is this?”

“Oh good, I thought you stopped talking to me again.”

All he heard from the other line was the click of hanging up.

“And I was right, apparently.”

“Trouble in paradise with Kitty?” Jaime, his roommate, asked, leaning in the doorway.

“None of your business, Jaime.”

“Did you find something on her in your files?”

“No,” Pete half-lied. It was on her grandfather.

He returned to sorting his files, because he had no idea what else he was supposed to do.

“I thought you two were doing alright a month ago,” Jaime made a dramatic fainting position, “When she called desperate for you to come help her.”

“She needed a distraction.”

“I bet she did.”

“Her sister was in a medicated coma Jaime, not the context for those jokes.”

“Okay.” Jaime put his arms up in surrender and spun out the door. “I just wanted to let you know I’m initiating my solitude clause.”

“Tonight?” Pete asked.

“Tonight.”

“He better be fucking worth it, I’ve waited months to get my hands on these files.”

Pete cleaned up his papers, putting them in his top drawer.

“He’s wonderful, thanks for asking.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Pete could use the time to let off steam anyways after that rejection from Catherine. He didn’t like being ignored, especially from her.

“Clause invoked, I’ll get out of here.”

“Thank you!”

He subtly put his pauldron in his pocket and shoved past Jaime into the world outside their apartment.

“Hey, sweetheart,” the artificially deepened Voice of Reason said as soon as his suit was around him, “How have you been?”

“Well, not to get personal,” Electron said, “But a little rejected.”

“If someone rejected you, they probably had something big going on,” Reason assured, “At least I would.”

When did Catherine not have something going on?

No. He didn’t want or need to think about Catherine right now. He was helping people right now.

“Are you telling me I should ask you out?” he asked instead.

“Believe it or not, I have something going on.”

Electron rolled his eyes.

“I heard that,” they said.

“No you didn’t.”

“I have a special ability to know when people are rolling their eyes on the phone.” Reason asserted, “It sounds different than stunned or awkward silence.”

“Right. What do you have for me, Reason?”

“Nothing yet, but keep walking. Maybe you can let me know about whoever is breaking your heart with rejection.”

“Breaking my heart’s a bit much,” Electron said, “It hurts, but I’m not devastated. We’ve only been talking again for a month, maybe.”

“And she said no to a date?”

“And she hung up on me when I tried to call her about something.”

He jumped down from the roof to catch what looked like a mugging, but was just a couple making out.

“So sorry, just making sure things were safe, sorry for disrupting the evening.”

The couple stared at him until he left, Reason’s laughter all he could really hear.

“We left them in case you were too distracted to tell.” he told them.

“Distracted?” they asked, “Me? Never.”

“If my roommate hadn’t invoked the solitude clause, I would have left by now.”

“Solitude Clause?” Reason asked.

“An agreement between my roommate and I. Either of us can invoke a solitude clause to have the house to ourselves, and hopefully another partner, for a few hours. I’ve invoked it for work a few times.”

“But not a date?”

“I almost did for a work-date, but he already had a date and didn’t plan to return that night if it went well.”

“Did it?”

“Ish. He found another suitor, and they’re why he invoked the clause.”

“Good for him, I suppose,” Reason said, “Wait, we may have a ping.”

“A ping?”

“A ping,” Reason made a pinging noise to explain, it made Electron laugh with how the voice alteration made it sound. “I have something you should interfere in, instead of stalking the legitimate make-out spots of dark alleys.”

“Where?”

“You’re going to turn left… now.”

It looked like a dockside warehouse.

“Why is it always a warehouse?” he asked rhetorically.

“It makes sense,” Reason said, “A warehouse is a large, isolated space that only people who work there typically go to. The perfect place to criminal.”

“To criminal?” Electron asked.

“To criminal.” Reason confirmed.

He watched cautiously from a distance. It looked like a deal was going down with some prominent group.

“Looks like they’re criminalling,” Electron said, “Do you have eyes?”

“Two of them, but no cameras to see inside, sorry.”

Then he was going in blind.

“How did you get this ping anyways?”

“Collating information, giving my AI constant data to track, and watching the sparks fly. Thank you for assisting in my field tests.”

Of course he was there to be a data point. God forbid he be liked for his personality.

“How long have you been using me like this? Should I be offended?”

“I started because of you. I wanted to be a better help. Otherwise, you would have gotten rid of me once you figured out the suit.”

It felt disingenuous to say no to the accusation, even if Electron couldn’t believe it. He needed his partner now. Something warmed him about the fact they did this work for him.

“I’m impressed I’m so special to you.”

“My life is complicated. This is simpler in some ways, not to mention your company makes it—look.”

The eyes on the suit focused so he could see a man surrounded by a cadre of people with guns stepping in.

“That may be our queue,” Electron said.

“The roof has a skylight,” Reason noted, “It could give us a better view before you go in.”

“They’ll notice me head up there.”

“I suspect that was the last guest.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Instinct, and no vehicles are coming this way with intent to turn in. The guards are looking for threats on the ground, not threats from above. Go now.”

“What if they spot me?” Electron asked.

“They only have guns. The suit can withstand plastic rounds, and you can stop metal ones.”

“Okay.”

The suit had a limited level of propulsion, which made it marginally easier for him to lift the whole thing with his own power and carry himself across to the roof of the warehouse.

“Is that your top speed?”

“And if it is?”

“Then the next iteration of the suit will be better adjusted toward the purpose of movement,” Reason said, “I will want a power assessment to determine the best way to go about it.”

“Do you even know how to use a power assessment?”

“Believe it or not, I have a history as a Xenology researcher.”

Electron stopped for a moment. Had he met Reason in their civilian lives? There were only so many xenologists around, even if Pete’s circle was full of them. What were the odds they’d missed each other?

“Independent or salaried?” he asked.

“Are you asking if I work at the institute?”

“Just so.”

“I do not work for the Quartz Institute,” Reason answered.

That dashed most of his hopes. He didn’t realize he wanted to meet Reason outside of patrols, but now he had another desire to ignore.

“Think I should go in?”

“Wait for an exchange of some sort. I need to add listening devices to the next iteration too, for me if not for you.”

So they waited and watched. No more questions, just focus.

“Handshake!” Reason said.

The handshake was followed by handing over something, and Electron took that as his queue to smash the window in and hold himself above the throng.

“Don’t just stand there,” one of the men said, “Shoot him!”

He sensed the bullets as they came toward him, freezing long before they could reach him.

“Metal, really?”

He dropped them, causing everyone to cower as they rained down, though not hard enough to properly pierce anyone.

Then something pulled him down, slamming him into the floor. He saw a man surrounded by gunmen, holding his hands like he had a rope.

“Telekinetic,” he and Reason identified. One powerful enough to force a target like him to the ground was a force to be reckoned with.

The two deal makers added a dome of ice surrounded by fire to the already difficult situation.

“Reason!”

“Your guess is as good as mine right now.”