Nightingale

Mandie took a deep breath. Leslie had put in a good word for her. Obviously she still had to nail the tryout, but she didn’t have to do anything too risky.

Her reassurances were interrupted by Ben, owner of the gym, manager of the fights, running for her. She did a classic move of jumping off the ropes to the other side of the ring.

“That’s an illegal move,” Ben told her, “Don’t do that again.”

Leslie liked her jumps, but if Ben was laying down rules, it hopefully meant she would have a chance to follow them.

This time Ben waited for the next hit.

“I guess Leslie didn’t tell you I was the untouchable Nightingale,” she said.

“He did, but I need to see everything you got.”

Mandie nodded. Ben was bigger than her by a significant margin, but she was almost definitely faster. The goal had to be to trip him.

She used the ropes behind her as leverage as she made what seemed to be a run for his sternum before wrapping her leg around one of his and forcing him down.

He seemed to be smiling, good sign.

“Sneaky,” he noted.

“I was a heel.”

Leslie had tried to make her a face for a minute, but even with the skirt to make her seem more innocent, her fighting style didn’t seem the right kind of heroic to their audience.

“Starting to see why,” Ben agreed, standing up.

That couldn’t be it. Mandie maintained her stance.

“I’d say you—” he moved much faster than the first time. Mandie pulled away, but he grabbed her arm, then the other arm.

And she was frozen. Memories of a poison kiss, and no closure, and waking up to her sister being happier all stopped Mandie from having any response to being grabbed.

Until something made a noise above them.

Mandie broke the hold and pushed Ben out of the ring before a light fixture could fall on his head.

“Thank you,” Ben said, standing up, “Wouldn’t have been great for you to take me to the hospital after this.”

Mandie saw the answer coming. She froze on a grab. That wasn’t a problem you could really work around in this business.

“Please,” she weakly asked. She knew better. She didn’t even need the job, Shepherd was keeping her financially secure. She just needed some purpose, especially after giving up on Eisel.

“I’m sorry, and I appreciate the save, but I can’t let someone fight if they’re going to freeze up there.”

She sighed.

“I have a few part-time slots open if you need—”

“I’m fine,” Mandie said, “Don’t worry.”

She looked around at the equipment, recalling the word gym on the sign in the window.

“Do you have memberships?”

Mandie heard concerned voices long before she made it to the gym. She tried not to rush, careful in her stance for possible threats. She made sure she was ready to start an attack, while also trying to look like an innocent bystander. It was a hard line to walk.

“What do you think they meant by it?” Elliot, who owned the flower shop across the street asked.

“What do you think anyone means by vandalism?” Ben asked, “Someone wanted to send a message.”

Mandie moved a little faster to see the damage. One of the windows had been smashed in, and someone had spray-painted “No Haven for Nukes” a few times on the wall.

“Peacekeepers,” Mandie muttered.

“Exactly,” Ben said, “Surprised they felt comfortable coming into a haven town at night. Don’t they know that’s when all the freaks are out?”

“They clearly didn’t feel safe enough attacking on fight night,” Mandie noted.

“What happened?” Zals, a man with an exoskeleton similar to snake-skin asked, leading several more of the night’s fighters behind him.

“Peacekeepers,” Ben said, “Superhuman hate group that thinks we’re too dangerous to live.”

“Small contingent,” Mandie guessed, “Or else there’d be a lot more damage. They only got to a window and some messaging. Do you have footage?”

“I don’t have cameras,” Ben said.

“And mine aren’t aimed at the gym,” Elliot confessed, “I’ll check last night’s feed just in case though.”

Mandie looked around all the broken glass for any hint at the vandals’ identities.

“Maybe they don’t think we’re dangerous enough.” Borie smacked her fist, increasing her muscle density to match the aggression.

“No,” Ben ordered, “I’ll handle it, but no fighters are allowed to try being vigilantes. I don’t want to see anyone hurt, understand? Besides, they probably want a violent response.”

Mandie almost raised her voice to object until she remembered she wasn’t a fighter.

Mandie looked at the old Nightingale costume. It was flamboyant, with a few too many open spots, not to mention the skirt. It could take a heavier beating than most of her tank tops though, and some of the flaws could be resolved.

She focused her mind on the little sequins, calmly unthreading them from the piece, using the miniscule amount of freed thread to add density to the costume. She put the sequins aside for later, but the costume looked a little less attention-grabbing, not that there was much to do for the white color at the moment.

Next she took the skirt, twisting her fingers slightly until her mind latched onto the threads. In moments the skirt was undone, and Mandie had enough material to weave into some of the previously empty panels. Her arms were still pretty open, but there was a lot less skin now.

She could take some of the fabric she’d brought with her to finish it off, but there was a limited supply and not enough time to weave more.

She grabbed her staff, went through a few forms to make sure she hadn’t lost her touch, and put the holster around her leg. Better a staff than nothing against whatever the Peacekeepers might have.

She grabbed a mask she’d only worn once or twice, sure she didn’t want anyone to see her face, especially if cops could be involved. Between two vandals and a vigilante, Mandie could guess who was the better prize for law enforcement.

Finally, she took a few of the supplies Catherine had given her when she moved out, and started on her plan of attack.

Mandie placed a few of the rubber ducks Catherine liked putting cameras in around the gym. She’d get a pager beep if there was any suspicious activity to be found.

Careful not to be seen by any of Elliot’s cameras or those of any other small businesses, Mandie began made her way to the top of the gym building.

Staying above the streets was her smartest plan to avoid getting caught, but the gap between this building and the next was larger than expected.

She watched the next building, trying to will it closer, but to no surprise, nothing happened.

She almost began her running start when she heard footsteps.

With all musterable silence, and a mental cloak of unawareness, she moved to watch the people below her.

Two blond individuals, one bleached and long, the other natural and short, were looking over the scene. Most of the glass had already been cleaned up, and a chunk of the graffiti had been washed up before the hydrokinetic fighter needed a break.

The observers stayed silent, tapping on things, pointing things out, but no word passed, almost like their conversation was psychic.

Maybe the Peacekeepers had been framed. If Mandie needed to break into somewhere, she’d absolutely frame it on a hate group, and they might take credit for it too.

She took a chance at snapping a photo with the camera around her neck.

They both looked up.

The short-haired one raised his fist as the camera pulled at her neck. She pulled the strap off on instinct.

Come down, or it gets crushed, a woman’s voice said in her mind.

She never liked a threat.

She pounced right above them, staff focused on the one holding her camera. He was most likely telekinetic, and therefore much harder to keep at bay.

He pushed her away before she could land on him, but that altered her momentum enough to make a softer fall.

Everyone stayed still for a moment. Mandie felt the telepath try to push into her mind, but she wasn’t opening up just from brute force. She noticed they both stood at the same height, a few inches shorter than her.

“What are you doing out here?” Mandie asked.

The others shared a momentary glance, but offered no answer. The telekinetic had his hand aimed at her. If she wanted to get a hit in, she would have to distract.

She shrank her staff and threw it at his head. As he stopped it, she moved as fast as possible to elbow him in the forehead, her momentum carrying the move even as she felt the telepath order her to stop.

Her whole body was held in a telekinetic lock immediately after. The order wasn’t for her it seemed.

In less than a second she was upside down.

“I’m going to guess you’re not Peacekeepers,” Mandie wagered.

“And you seem too mentally skilled to be one either,” the telepath said.

“Are you going to let me down?” Mandie asked.

“No.”

Mandie tried to reach into the telekinetic’s mind, but he was harder to read than most telepaths.

“Who hired you?” the telepath asked. She seemed to be the one in charge.

“I came of my own volition, I make use of the gym and don’t want vandals to keep harming it.”

“Fighters were told not to attempt any vigilante justice.”

“Not a fighter, not for here at least.”

“Fuck.”

With that outburst, the telekinetic dropped her, grabbing her arms to keep her head from the ground. The rest of her was awkwardly crumpled.

“Thanks for not giving me a concussion.”

“Do you know her?” the telepath asked.

“Ben mentioned her, yeah, Songbird or something. Used to fight for a friend of his.”

“Nightingale,” Mandie corrected, accepting some help as she stood up, “What did Ben say about me?”

“Used to fight for a friend, but he couldn’t take you on for some reason, mostly vague things.”

“Helpful.”

He smiled.

“So you’re not good enough to fight,” the telepath said, “And Ben hasn’t said shit about you. Are we good now?”

“It wasn’t about how well I fought.” at least not exactly.

“Go home,” the telepath said.

“I’d be happy to fight a second round now that I know what you two are capable of.” Mandie’s staff floated back into her hand.

She kept her thoughts just out of reach as the telepath tried to call her bluff.

“I go by Diamond,” she finally relented.

“And your friend?”

“You can just consider me a charming stranger.” he gave a cocky bow.

“Stranger it is then.”

“And you’re Nightingale,” Diamond said, “Not a very frightening image.”

“Good thing that’s not the goal.”