Madame Science Chap 8 (Rough)

Finding a way to write through the current times has been more than a little difficult. I think everyone has been struggling in different ways, trying to find a new normal or some sort of function interim until a new normal can be established. I'm extremely grateful for the continued support during these times. I can't thank you all enough.

Really, thank you :)

With that being said, please enjoy Chapter Eight of Madame Science! It's still the rough draft and we're about a third of the way through the book! I hope you all enjoy :)

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Scott goes dark Friday. It’s something I expected after the jailbreak, but it grates anyway. He doesn’t contact me when he’s in the suit so longer missions are often spent incommunicado. I’m not thrilled when I wake up to no good morning texts after the night I’ve had, but I can deal. What I can’t deal with is that, when I switch on the news, I see Gear wasn’t lying about his partner busting him out of jail. What I’m extra not prepared for is to find out who that partner is when I run a quick search.

I didn’t expect his partner to be frickin’ Synthesis.

“Searching,” Momento says. I look up from the insides of his lion friend with a frown. His voice is still a little robotic, the script stolen from the internet, but I don’t have time to write my own program for it. Scott’s got a history with Synthesis. Technically, we both do, but Scott’s the only one with a grudge.

A hero with a grudge makes mistakes. Easy, stupid mistakes that can get them killed. If Scott wants his revenge, he’s going to get help from me, whether he knows it or not.

I start in on the lion’s wiring. It’s delicate work and I don’t have delicate equipment. The pliers I’m using are the same ones I’d used to pull nails out of the wall when I moved in. Buying precision tools would be against my agreement.

It’s not like I don’t understand Scott’s grudge. Synthesis is the real reason why Scott got transferred out of Chicago, though I like to blame myself. Once a hero’s identity is compromised, they get moved. Period. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to say goodbye to the life he’d made there. Scott’s one of those heroes who had to leave their families behind in the 2008 data leak. Losing his new family—barring Everest and Moth Lady—must have hurt more than I can imagine.

“Searching,” Momento says. I’ll have to turn the voice notification off soon, but, for now, it makes me feel like I’m actually doing something.

With any luck Momento will get eyes on Synthesis soon. Scott’s not the only one with a grudge and I do not like the idea of an S-class villain with personal beef running around my city. While I’m one of the few people who know Synthesis’ weakness, his power is still terrifying. He has the ability to grant three “wishes” to restructure reality. I’ve seen him conjure things out of thin air and, at the worst, vanish things right out of a person’s body.

As scary as his power is, it’s not where his real strength lies. 

Synthesis is often called the “mastermind” of the villain world. He seldom works alone and has a knack for picking the biggest and baddest around. If he’s in town, I can guarantee Gear isn’t his only accomplice.

“Searching,” Momento says. He cocks his head and locks eyes with me. “Record of sighting three days ago.”

I grunt in acknowledgement. Three days ago isn’t good enough. Synthesis is mean, powerful, and fast. “Keep searching. Plot sightings.”

“Searching,” Momento says. His little mouth pops open, revealing a pink felt tongue and a lense. A hologram of the city appears in front of him, spinning as the first red dot appears near Union Station.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Why was Synthesis at Union Station? Did he come in by train? No, that’s not his style. Could he have been meeting someone? Another team up?  I don’t know.

For the first time, I regret not ever working with Synthesis. He’d tried to recruit me when I was making a name for myself as a villain, but I wasn’t interested in actual crime and declined. He’d been sorely disappointed when I retired without ever having become one of his pawns. If I’d worked with him, even once, I might have a better idea of how he operates.

One thing I do know—Synthesis is better at keeping grudges than heroes. He’s killed heroes before, horribly, violently and publicly. There are two people Synthesis would like nothing better than to annihilate currently in LA.

Me and Scott.

I was there when Synthesis blew Scott’s cover in front of the entire student body at the school he’d been working at. I’d just given up on being Madame Science in an attempt to get Scott to date me. After some reflection, I’ll admit it was pretty creepy to assume my civilian identity and get hired at the high school he taught at. And, yeah, the number of times I asked him out was also probably creepy. He never took me up on it. He was getting over his crush on Madame Science at the time and didn’t look at Christine Green.

“Searching,” Momento says. He pauses, head wobbling back and forth. “Possible sighting noted. Would you like me to plot?”

“Use a different color,” I say. I drop my hands away from my face and back into the lion. I’m probably going to have to actually give him a name after this. He’s receiving the most upgrades by far.

Momento plots a yellow dot outside of a cemetery and continues searching. 

I breathe in deeply and out through my mouth. One problem at a time.

Regular villains don’t hold schools hostage. Only the crazy ones do. Synthesis and his then-minion Technomanic were looking for a “prophecy” child. It’d been the first time I heard that Synthesis believed in Foresight’s bull crap prophecies. Most villains recognized them for the rambling drivel they are.

Not Synthesis though. He believed and it led him to forming a team with a tech villain and taking over a high school. Somehow he’d known Scott’s identity before he went in and used his power to immobilize him in front of the entire student body. Scott still describes the experience as the most helpless he’s ever felt.

“Searching,”  Momento says.

I grit my teeth and plunge a screwdriver into the lion. He’s about six times the size he used to be, three feet long and almost the same in height. When I’m done, he’ll be the brawler of the group. Of course he’s still rainbow-colored and delightful.  My stitching where I combined extra fabric from similar models is a little sloppy, but I have to cut myself some slack. I’m working on a deadline.

Synthesis has a grudge against me too. When he’d been about to get away with his crazy scheme, I’d revealed my own identity in order to thwart him. While I’d been the one to knock him unconscious, Scott had been the one to make the arrest.

Last I heard, he’d threatened to “go for the heart” next time he saw Light. Since Scott and Light share the same heart, I’m more than a little afraid for my boyfriend.

“Searching,” Momento says.

“I’m going to call you Goliath,” I tell the lion. He’s powered off, but what one hears, they all know. Momento will feed him the information when I switch him back on. I start stitching him back up.

It’s absolutely irresponsible what I’m doing for more than one reason. I’ve always tried to steer away from weapons (see: sentient slime). I’ve always been in it for creativity and new inventions, not this. This is something intended for violence. But I can’t deny I’ve made Goliath a proper soldier, ready to take on an S-class villain or die trying.

If Synthesis even tries to follow through on his threat to remove Scott’s heart, I’ll be ready. If he succeeds? I reach for the neon pink cat.

“Puss with Demolition Expertise,” I tell her. She’s powered off too, small and vulnerable in my hands. “PUD-E for short.” 

I get back to work.

Knocking on the door wakes me from where I’ve fallen asleep over the last two of Momento’s friends. The unicorn and the bunny both have the same function, so I’ve named them The Twins. They’re not anywhere near done, but are definitely over Level 5 tech already.

“Scatter,” I hiss at my minions. Goliath pads over and scoops The Twins up in his jaws before scuttling into the bedroom after Momento. PUD-E flips off the coffee table, lands silently, and flashes behind them to close the door. I throw a blanket over the box of scraps that remain from Gear’s generous donation and head for the door.

Ms. Barry, eyes rimmed in red, is standing on the other side in jeans and a plain, white T-shirt. “Christine. I apologize for disturbing you so late.”

Jeans? I barely catch what she said. Ms. Barry’s never worn anything less than a power suit. Lately she’s been favoring three-piece suits. I didn’t think it was possible for her to own a t-shirt. “What?”

Ms. Barry pushes past me, beelining straight into my galley kitchen. “No one knows I’m here.” She sees my coffee pot. “Oh thank god, you’ve already made some.”

“That’s like six hours old,” I say, closing the front door behind me. I’ve never seen Ms. Barry like this. “If you wait a moment, I can make you another—or not.”

Ms. Barry’s already poured herself a cup and is chugging it like a woman looking for salvation. “I’ve been working 24 hours straight.”

I look at the clock and wince. I didn’t notice it getting so late. It’s nearly 3am, early Saturday morning. Oh, I think, I have a date today. Then I frown. Scott’s still not answering my texts. Do I still have a date? I ask Ms. Barry, “Bad night?”

“More than,” Ms. Barry says. She pours herself a second cup. “I need to ask you some questions. Off the record.” She throws back the coffee like a shot and pours herself a third cup.

She’s going to need something to eat before she burns a hole through her stomach. I go to the fridge and do a quick scan of the contents. “You want some eggs?”

“Please,” Ms. Barry says. She sounds more human, but also more stressed. “When I say off the record, Christine, I mean it. I won’t ever use the information you give me against you or allow it to be connected back to you.”

I pause, holding a carton of eggs in one hand, onions in the other. That’s more than a big promise. That’s a huge promise. From anyone else I wouldn’t believe it, but from Ms. Barry? Over the past year I’ve come to respect more than her work ethic. She’s terrifyingly intelligent. If she wants to hide something, she can hide it. “I’m listening.”

“Late Thursday night,” Ms. Barry begins, “the Hero Force containment facility was breached. Several villains in custody at the time were released. Six heroes were injured in the attack, including Atlas. The doctor isn’t sure when he’ll wake up.”

I start preparing the onions, peppers, and breakfast ham. It might be coincidence that Atlas won’t wake up out of all six heroes. Unfortunately, I doubt it. Carefully I ask, “The doctor or the Doctor?”

The question is genuine, but it’s also a test. The existence of the Doctor isn’t widely known since the Hero Force goes to great lengths to protect their identity over everyone else. People with the power to heal are rare and, because of that rarity, extremely vulnerable. If Ms. Barry is here because she genuinely needs information, whatever that might be, she’ll tell me. If not…

It doesn’t feel nice to suspect someone who’s helped me so much  and I consider a friend. But if she doesn’t trust me, this is a setup.

Ms. Barry’s lips thin. “You’re not supposed to have that information.”

My shoulders lose their tension. That’s as good as a yes. And it confirms my theory. “If Atlas isn’t waking up after the Doctor saw him, I’ve got a pretty good idea of what happened.”

“That makes you the only one,” Ms. Barry says. She stares into her third cup of coffee. “The investigation’s been suspended. The FBI is claiming jurisdiction.”

I’m not surprised by the FBI interfering. Every time a Hero Force base is compromised, they try to insert themselves. What I am surprised by is that the investigation has actually been suspended. I throw the chopped ingredients in the pan, adjusting the heat to medium. “On what grounds? The attack took place in HQ, right?”

“There was a second attack later that evening,” Ms. Barry says. “Something melted a hole under the 5 freeway.” I try my best to look surprised. Luckily, Ms. Barry is still staring into her coffee. “The FBI is claiming that the attack on HQ is connected to it and several other incidents of domestic terrorism.”

Terrorism trumps Hero Force autonomy. The best they can hope for is a joint effort. I wince. “Yikes.”

“Yikes is right,” Ms. Barry says. She sets down her mug to lean against the counter. Her fingers tap frenetically against the pseudo-marble. “I’ve been trying to win a pissing match with no information. Usually not a problem. The FBI respects the law and the law is clear that the Hero Force is to act autonomously, barring suspected compromises. Then I was informed that the FBI was planning to work this case in conjunction with the DOD.”

Ah. Things fall together quickly. The DOD’s been doing such a thorough job hiding the cause of the sinkholes, the FBI would have to be tipped off to link them together. For some reason, the Department of Defense clued them in. The two agencies probably struck a deal. The FBI gets to mess with the Hero Force and the DOD...The DOD gets to control every facet of this case, from the bionanite incidents to the jailbreak. But why?

Because they know about the auction. 

It’s the only reason I can think of. The DOD knows about the auction for the bionanites and is trying to make sure the Hero Force doesn’t link the villains to it. Once the Hero Force knows why so many villains are in town, jurisdiction goes back to them.

“So I was right,” Ms. Barry says. I nearly burn my hand when I jump, having forgotten her presence for a moment. When I turn, she’s watching my face. “The case Ronalds gave you is connected to the attacks.”

Of course Ms. Barry came to the conclusion before me. She has less information, but she’s been around heroes and villains and everything in between for decades. “There’s no proof,” I say. I add whipped eggs to the pan. The smell of onions and ham fills the air as the eggs sizzle. “Everything I’ve put together is a guess.”

“A pretty good guess.” Ms. Barry goes to get plates out of the cabinet. “I know you can’t tell me everything, but I need a lead, Christine. Something so I can get these kids out of my yard long enough to see the damage.”

I stir the eggs. “I can tell you who’s definitely responsible for the jailbreak and who else is probably involved. I can’t tell you why they did it though. Not without proof.”

“The who is the most important part,” Ms. Barry says quickly. “A villain powerful enough to break into HQ is the biggest concern.”

“I’m powerful enough to break into HQ,” I snort. I plate the eggs, handing the bigger portion to her with a fork. She looks like she needs the protein. “I could probably do it in 45...no, 30 minutes, tops. A villain breaking in isn’t a problem.”

“Christine, any villain your caliber is generally considered a major problem,” Ms. Barry says.

I lead her around the kitchen counter to sit on the sofa. “I appreciate the compliment—“

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“—but my point is that you should be more worried about the why.”

“Can you tell me the why?”

I throw myself onto one end of the sofa. “Well, no. Not yet.” I couldn’t link the creator of the bionanites to a super-powered individual yet. The villains going after them wouldn’t count.

“So tell me the who,” Ms. Barry says. She settles herself on the other end and starts to eat. “I’ll find out the why myself.”

“The coma is probably due to Inviro,” I say. I’ve undercooked the eggs, but I’m too hungry to throw them back in the pan. I tuck in and speak with my mouth full. “B-rank, Missouri born villain. Her ability tricks the brain into thinking it’s awake even when the person isn’t. It has something to do with hormones, I don’t get the specifics. Contact the hero Shine from Louisiana. She’s fought Inviro before and should know how to wake him up. She’s also got some weird brain powers.”

“If Inviro can put people into comas, why were the rest of the heroes on scene beaten?” Ms. Barry asks. It’s a good question.

“Inviro’s weakness is time,” I say. My mouth twists. “The fastest I’ve ever heard her put someone under is 5 minutes. They brought her in to take out Atlas before he could use his power to hide the cells.”

“They?” Ms. Barry asks. Her plate is already empty on the coffee table. She’d wolfed the food down faster than I thought possible.

I swallow. “I’m guessing a team of three. Synthesis to lead them, someone strong to break into the cells, Inviro for Atlas. If it weren’t for him, it would’ve been only two.”

Ms. Barry’s face drains of color. “Synthesis?”

I have to set my plate down. It’s worse than I thought. “Hero Force doesn’t know Synthesis is in town?”

“No,” Ms. Barry says shortly. She rubs a hand over her mouth, brow pinched, and stands. “I need to report this. Foresight needs to know.”

Foresight, the head of the Hero Force, is the original superhero. His clairvoyant abilities helped him create the Hero Force and, simultaneously, a whole host of problems when he released his prophecies to the public. 

I follow Ms. Barry to the door. I want to tell her that there’s bigger problems in LA than Synthesis, but what would that accomplish? I’d let her handle the villains. I’d handle the bionanites. “If I hear any other villains coming into town, I’ll let you know.”

Ms. Barry rushes her thanks and her exit. That’s probably why she misses the guilt.

I close the door and press my forehead to the cheap wood. I didn’t tell Ms. Barry that there’s another villain in town. I don’t know who, not yet, but there’s no other way for the metal plate from the attack site to be there. There’s only a handful of people, besides me who knows the significance of that rune.

I retrieve it from under the couch cushions, frowning. Mannaz winks back at me, the straight lines so crisp that it had to have been laser engraved. I run my finger over the grooves. “What’s the Normal Club doing in LA?”

I’d finish tracking down Synthesis. Then I’d find out.