Chapter 1.2.20 — Frozen Dinners

Emmett spent the rest of Saturday afternoon in the Gray Room, slowly working his way back up to a semblance of normal. He alternated between jogging and calisthenics, taking breaks to swap out his forearm mods. Eventually he added shadowboxing and easy parkour.

Meanwhile, Clara continued her own training with her exosuit, flying between buildings and shooting at targets. More than a few times, the sounds of battle caught Emmett off guard and he whirled around, only to remember that he was in the Gray Room and not back on Champion street.

The soreness in Emmett’s bones dwindled more and more until it felt like background static. After a few hours, Emmett was running across rooftops again and leaping small gaps.

The pain only spiked during particularly big falls, feeling like a jolt of electricity shot up through his feet and out his neck. Those moments brought Emmett to his knees, but passed just as quickly.

Clara flew over and landed beside him on the roof of a three story building. She put her hands on her hips, a gesture that looked ridiculous on her exosuit.

“You should take a break.”

Emmett scoffed. He felt great. “Why?”

“Because it’s almost seven, and some of us need to eat.”

On cue, Emmett’s stomach rumbled and he relented. “Alright. Break time.”

~

Ever since Emmett had started spending most evenings training in the lab, he had grown accustomed to the frozen food selection that Dr. Venture and Clara lived off of.

Growing up, Emmett’s mom did most of the cooking, and had vehemently opposed microwave meals, as she called them. Mom could barely bring herself to make a side of instant mashed potatoes, let alone trust some soulless corporation with her entire dinner.

Because of this, Emmett had similar reservations to Dr. Venture and Clara’s dinner arrangements. It wasn’t so much that they celebrated with frozen pizza—it was that everything they ate came out of a box.

To be fair, Dr. Venture and Clara were connoisseurs of the pre-packaged meal, and so Emmett hadn’t had a bad-tasting one yet.

There was the now classic Big Larry’s frozen pizza and fries. Various forms of breaded chicken, from nuggets to wings to individually wrapped cordon bleu. Frozen tortellini and canned sauces. Spicy and non-spicy dumplings. Taquitos and empanadas.

Spaghetti felt like the closest the Ventures came to cooking, and Clara insisted on making it her way—with mushroom sauce and heapings of shredded parmesan.

Other instant and canned dinners Emmett was already familiar with from his time as a penny-pinching college student: Instant noodles, soups, ravioli in various forms, and canned chili.

Then there were the complete frozen dinners—Pot roast, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Whole lasagna. Teriyaki bowls. Pot pies.

Today, Dr. Venture had heated up a family-sized chicken and broccoli alfredo. By the time Emmett and Clara made it to the living quarters in section 001, Emmett’s stomach was rumbling with anticipation.

The three sat on the couches of the living room, bowls of noodles in their laps, with the news on for background noise. They ate in relative silence, Clara and Emmett occasionally making comments about the commercials.

Emmett’s phone buzzed.

Lock 7:16 PM: How’s Marianne?

Emmett chuckled. He looked back at his texts and saw that someone had indeed sent a message to Lock telling him ‘not to wait up.’

A part of him still hated that he couldn’t be honest with Lock. Hiding a secret identity from a family member or a roommate felt like a tired trope, but what else could Emmett do? The whole Marianne bit just seemed ridiculous. Emmett imagined if Lock ever did find out, the first thing he would do would be to give Emmett grief for such a lame cover story.

Emmett texted back.

Emmett: 7:17 PM: She’s good. Be back later.

“Who’s that?” Clara asked, half-covering her mouth.

“The roommate.” Emmett stared at his empty bowl. “I should probably get back.”

Clara snorted. “You should probably rest—I still can’t believe Dad had you up and running around after surgery.”

Venture barely looked up from his noodles. “Emmett needed to get out of bed to recover quicker. Besides, he has that project to finish.”

Emmett’s blood ran cold. He’d just turned in his radio locator project write up… Had he forgotten another assignment? How much time did he have?

Emmett stammered a response, about to ask Dr. Venture what assignment he forgot about, when Venture turned—

And smiled. “Gotcha.”

Emmett sighed and slunk back down onto the couch.

Venture continued, “You should’ve seen your face.”

Clara just shook her head.

~

Emmett left a few minutes later, still not fully calmed down after Dr. Venture’s joke. Emmett had been spending a lot of time training and worrying about being a superhero—he was terrified of missing assignments. The last thing he needed was to botch his last semester.

There was also something about being cooped up in the lab that didn’t sit right with Emmett. Maybe it was the lingering reminder of his trauma or just the fact that Venture and Clara still didn’t trust him fully—either way, Emmett was glad to be heading back to his apartment.

He supposed that he could have waited for the bus, but he decided to take the rooftops instead. Emmett felt almost completely healed, which Venture assured him wasn’t the case. Venture still told him to take it easy, and avoid sparring on the rooftops or getting into trouble with the Summitt—he’d added that last part with a smirk.

So Emmett did as the Doctor ordered and took his time on the way home. He donned his mask and utility belt, and jogged across the skyline, taking a northern arc around downtown to stick to the shorter rooftops and enjoying the night air.

Little by little, it was getting warmer in Belport. It was almost April, and the winter chill was gone from the night air. It would be another few months before the nights were warm.

Emmett was nearly halfway home and almost exactly North of downtown when he had to start using his whip to climb—

And when Emmett noticed that he was being followed.

A super was a block away, running parallel to him.

Emmett kept jogging, but tried to keep the super in the corner of his vision. For a moment, Emmett thought it was a coincidence, but the super was on his left and downtown was on his right. Which meant that Emmett was silhouetted against the bright lights—there was no way the super didn’t see him.

Emmett jogged another roof and considered his options: He didn’t feel confident getting into a fight with an unknown super—definitely not in his condition and without Clara. Even the knowledge that Venture probably had a Fast-Response Drone tailing him didn’t reassure Emmett.

He felt marginally better about running away. He had his mods, gadgets, and utility belt. There was always the chance that the super had something that Emmett couldn’t counter, but he’d have to take that risk.

Running was probably his best option, but was that all?

What were the odds that this random super was after him, anyway?

Against his better judgment, Emmett stopped and turned toward the super. Then he waved.

To his surprise, the super stopped and then waved back. Then they leapt to the next roof over and waved again for Emmett to join them.

Emmett took a deep breath and leapt over, meeting the new super in the middle. They were leaning over, hands on their knees, catching their breath.

“Give me a sec,” the guy wheezed.

Emmett smiled in confusion.

The new super was dressed like an explorer, with heavy boots, khaki pants, and a vest with what looked like a hundred pockets on it. On their back, they carried a massive canvas backpack that was stuffed comically full. But their mask was the strangest part. Emmett didn’t get a good look until the guy caught his breath and stood up straight, but he was wearing what looked like a cut up scarf. It was thick and frilled around the edges, and a mass of curly hair that came out of the top like a funnel.

No wonder the guy was out of breath.

Finally, Emmett’s curiosity got the better of him. “Were you following me?”

The super finally stood up, still breathing heavily, and answered, “Well, yeah,” like the answer was obvious.

Emmett chuckled. “Why?”

The guy shrugged. “Why not?”

“Do you just follow any random super you see on the rooftops?”

He shrugged again. “Sometimes. My name’s McGuire. I was trying to get your attention. You really ought to pay attention to your surroundings.” He wagged a finger at Emmett for emphasis.

He was wearing fingerless gloves—the kind that mailmen wore in movies and TV.

Dumbfounded, Emmett replied, “Well, most people that follow me haven’t just wanted to talk.”

“Talk? I want to spar. Then I’ll decide if you’re worth talking to.”

Was this guy for real?

Emmett glanced around, wondering if this was some sort of elaborate and convoluted trap, but didn’t see anyone else on the rooftops or in the sky. He briefly considered asking Venture or TINA to scan the block, but knowing them, they probably already had. And neither of them had interrupted this strange conversation, so…

Emmett turned back to McGuire and nodded. “Okay. Sure. Why not… How do you want to do this?”

McGuire slid his feet apart, like he was taking a fighting stance. His right hand went behind his hip so that it hovered next to his backpack like he was an old gunslinger.

“We’ll go on three,” McGuire said. Then added, “Aren’t you going to get ready?”

~ ~ ~