Of Sisters and Shadows – Chapter 6

This is bullshit.

Oh, sure, I get a second trigger which turns my shield into a very versatile, ridiculously lethal weapon—I just need to face myself in a duel to the death to get it. No biggie.

Armsmaster, though…

“Colin, would you stop that?” Dragon says, with the tone of someone trying very hard to pretend they haven’t already run out of patience. Don’t ask me why I’m so familiar with said tone. It doesn’t bear recounting.

…

Fine. The news are boringwhen you’re a kid and you know there are cartoons on another channel, all right?

Armsmaster must not be that thoroughly acquainted with parahuman women trying to keep their tempers in check, because he takes a moment to look up from his gauntlet and the quickly deploying and retracting small blade emerging from his middle knuckle.

To be fair… He just got a new power. I would also keep playing obsessively with it—or “testing the operating parameters,” as he insists.

To be even fairer… I maybe would’ve spared a few more looks at Dragon now that the woman has… Well.

I stand up from the awful hospital chair with the thin aqua cushion that barely disguises the wooden board below. The whole thing seems to be designed so visitors will leave as soon as humanly possible rather than to provide comfort for distraught family members. In front of me, Dragon’s lying on a hospital bed that apparently follows the same basic design sensibilities, even if bulkier and made of metal.

And, standing by her side, one hand on her arm and another inside a bag I would rather not peek into after far too many incidents that prove my nausea isn’t trainable, Amy keeps furrowing her brow as Dragon’s body minutely shifts beneath her touch.

A body that has, in short order, gained enough height that she’s just slightly shorter than Armsmaster (something that’s very intentional, going by the hushed whispers), gained a pair of wings that aren’t quite like Amy’s, as the bones are significantly bulkier if shorter—not to mention they are completely covered in red scales with a metallic sheen rather than Amy’s goth vampire gleaming black. And, also, a tail. With its own scales.

Among other things.

“Look, I get the whole thing with the wings, I really think I do, but… that?”

Dragon blushes and fidgets, and Ames shoots me a flat deadpan.

“I’m remaking her whole nervous system. A tail, as a natural continuation of the spinal cord, allows me enough room to work some new functionalities into it without tampering too much with her body plan and proprioception.”

Dragon nods, still blushing.

I raise a very unimpressed eyebrow.

“Right. And the scales on her forearms?”

Dragon goes to hide them beneath the sheets before stopping as Amy is still doing whatever it is she’s doing to the world’s greatest Tinker and not-so-closeted scalie.

The internet is dark and full of terrors.

“Shielding for delicate nerve endings necessary for the proper adjustment of her new anatomy. The metallic components also help with proper temperature adjustment.”

“On her forearms.”

“There are only so many parts of the human body I can store modifications in, Vicky.”

“Right. Which also explains the scales on her cheekbones and jawline.”

“The face is chock-full of nerve endings. If you ever see a sensory homunculus—”

“She has slitted, yellow eyes, Ames! Stop trying to bullshit me!”

“Night vision would be helpful in many tinkering—”

“You are turning her into a dragon girl! A literal dragon girl!”

“Wait, what’s that about slitted pupils helping with tinkering?” Armsmaster interjects, finally showing interest in his girlfriend’s new body.

… Men.

“Oh, well, it helps quickly adjust to contrast in low light environments, so they certainly would improve readability of HUDs—” Dragon starts, finally joining in on the bullshit.

“No they won’t,” I mutter, burdened with terrible knowledge.

“Do you think I should—” he follows.

“She wants to be a dragon girl! You are a cyber knight, and she wants to be a dragon girl! Do the math and go poke her with your spear already!” My terrible knowledge shall be shared.

Everybody in the room shuts up, and Amy slowly retracts her arm, likely satisfied enough with the tweaks that she doesn’t want to risk close proximity to ground zero of whatever’s about to go down.

Armsmaster blinks and looks at a blushing Dragon whose face perfectly matches the tone of her scales—and you can’t bullshit your way out of that aesthetical choice, Ames—then looks back to me with a frankly disconcerted look.

“But I have a halberd?” he says.

That’s the moment where I start to scream until I feel lightheaded.

***

“Drama queen,” Amy mutters.

“Shut up,” I tell her through my pained, raspy throat. Because, apparently, she won’t ‘indulge my temper tantrums by healing minor injuries.’

Bitch.

The door to Dragon’s room opens, and a very sheepish Armsmaster pokes his head out.

“So… Dragon says you should come back in? If you feel like it?”

With just a slightly surly glance at my fetish-enabling sister, I stand up and go back into the room, where I’m promptly met by the quite obviously disapproving glare of the doctor checking up on Amy’s work.

“I trust you’ll be able to behave yourself this time, Miss Dallon?” The prick asks.

“I trust you’ve discovered how utterly ridiculous it is for you to check on whatever it is the most powerful biokinetic in the world just did?”

“To be honest, that was just an excuse to get you out of the room and stop disturbing the patients unfortunate enough to share a floor with your excesses,” he calmly states.

Then stands up and leaves the room.

“Well, fuck you too,” I mutter, slightly too late.

“Yeah, that’s Doctor Craig. We don’t mess with him,” Amy says from right behind me.

“You are the most powerful—”

“Biokinetic in the world—I’m aware. I still don’t like to be figuratively flayed alive in front of an audience.”

“… Oh.”

“It’s just not my kink.”

“Ames!”

“Shush!”

“Ah… right. Sorry.”

Amy grunts, Armsmaster tries to rub his temples through the helmet, gets the look of someone having a Eureka moment, and then the surface of the helmet starts shifting in slow circles as he sighs in relief.

And the scalie chuckles.

“So… can we talk about the national security secret now, or do we need to go to a bunker?” I finally ask, hoping this will get me off the hook and into a conversation topic unlikely to make me scream myself hoarse.

“You mean how the mists not only grant a chance at a second trigger, but the power of the Shadows you defeat in it? I don’t see the need for all the secrecy; it’s not like every S Class threat around would start gunning for the city if the knowledge is made public,” Amy tries to snark, but I can tell her heart isn’t in it.

I can’t tell whereit is, though. Or if she even has one, or more than one, or—ugh.

“You both signed confidentiality agreements—” Armsmaster tries to interject with the most irrelevant thing he can come up with.

“Colin, I really don’t think they need any reminding. What we should decide is how much of this we tell your superiors.”

He looks at the woman currently being a fair bit bustier than when she appeared unconscious and naked on the concrete floor of a place that, if I strain my shield just a tiny bit, I can still feel calling to me through the mists.

“What do you mean? I thought regulations—”

“I… Before we continue, can we all agree to full secrecy about what we are about to say? No one here discloses anything of what we say unless we all agree to it, all right?” Dragon gently asks, even if some forcefulness is obvious beneath the tone.

Ames and I share a look before nodding, and Colin—ugh, it’s weird that he has a regular name—flips up a panel on his left gauntlet that lights up the whole room in a green haze that vanishes after a moment.

“This is as private as I can make the room. I can’t agree to withhold harmful information, but—”

“It’s… It’s all right, Colin. I trust your judgment,” Dragon says with a shy voice that makes his face soften.

… I don’t know whether to rejoice at all the gossip I’m quickly accumulating, or to despair at how little of it I can ever share.

And, by the looks of it, Dragon’s about to add to the pile of conflicting feelings.

***

“Well, that explains things…” Amy mutters from where she’s sitting beside me on the room’s floor.

Screw that chair.

“I… You never told me—” Armsmaster says, still almost swaying in place.

“I couldn’t. Not before I exhausted every single avenue, not before I—no, that’s not true. I’m sorry, Colin. I was just afraid.”

“Afraid?”

“Of… Of what you would think. That you would reject—”

Two metallic steps make the floor vibrate, and Armsmaster is leaning over her bed in an angle that—

Oh.

Oh.

… Who the Hell can I gossip with about this?!

“Colin…” Dragon whispers as he raises his head just enough to allow her to speak.

“Never,” he answers. “I never would’ve—” and he gets interrupted as artfully clawed fingers hold his helmet and pull him down.

Feeling my cheeks start to tingle as the interruption grows longer and Dragon makes the kind of noises someone unused to tactile feedback would make during her first French kiss, I turn away from them.

And I see Amy’s face right in front of me, her own blush once more bright enough her freckles almost fade.

“Hey,” she whispers, her warm breath reaching my lips.

“Hey,” I whisper back as I lick them before I catch myself doing so.

“I owe you a horse,” she finally says, still keeping the low volume even if Dragon isn’t that considerate.

“What?”

“A horse. I told you I would build you a horse if I had to.”

My brain stutters for just a moment, and I keep blinking at the utterly ridiculous line.

“That was… That was a manner of speech, wasn’t it? You aren’t going to build me a horse—”

“I was thinking Shadowfax—”

“Ames, I can fly. I don’t want a literal horse; I was asking you for some time!”

“Well, yeah, but as we just keep kissing each other, I thought it would only be fair if I made a gesture—”

“We don’t keepkissing each other, and even if I appreciate the gesture, I wouldn’t appreciate having to shovel a metric ton of literal horsesh—”

And she kisses me.

Of course she does. Of course she takes advantage of my bewilderment, and embarrassment, and the two nominal adults in the room being indisposed to once more lay her lips on me, to poke her agile and too long tongue into my mouth, to make me taste her new flavor that has just enough dark chocolate in it to be enticing rather than disturbing. Of course she twirls it around mine, the muscle shifting to be thin enough to constrict around me in thin bands mid-kiss as her fingers dig into my hair, and a low, far too long moan resonates through her chest and into mine while she keeps feeding me a steady stream of warm air.

And of course I manage to get dizzy through it all.

“I… None of us were dying,” I manage to protest when she finally pulls back from my limp body.

“Just a matter of time, really,” she answers, her eyes far too bright and wide for the quip to land.

“… I still don’t want a horse.”

“I can live with that. You ingrate.”

“I would be too afraid of what you did with or to it. You furry enabler.”

And she shoots me a glare that is severely undercut by Dragon moaning as at least one of her fantasies about knights in shining armor comes true.

***

“So, if you finally got all that out of your system…” I trail off as Dragon keeps shyly blushing and holding Colin’s bare right hand.

She’s far too goddamn adorable.

I want to bully her.

“I… apologize. I’m still new to bodily reactions, and—”

“You seem to quickly be getting the hang of it,” I interrupt. And the blush once more reaches ‘crimson scales level.’ This will be fun.

“Ah, I mean, Panacea has been very accommodating in—”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s Panacea who’ll be taking care of your ‘rehab.’” I make sure to use air quotes. They are extra infuriating.

And she’s fidgeting like a schoolgirl with a crush! This is precious!

“If we could get back to the matter at hand—” Colin says in his best Armsmaster voice. While also fidgeting as he keeps stealing glances at the internet fetish lying barely covered by a hospital gown at his side.

“I would say your hands have been going back plenty already,” I point out as cheerfully as I can. Which is a lot.

Especially given the circumstances.

“That one was forced,” Amy bitches from the sidelines.

“I don’t see you doing any better.”

“Maybe because I actually want to get done with this and get back home.”

“Yeah, I don’t buy that excuse. You wouldn’t stop snarking if your chocolate ice cream supply depended on it.”

“That was onetime. And the cashier deserved it.”

“He asked for your number!”

“And I asked him to stop acting like a creep, do his fucking job, not to give me the napkins with chloroform on them, and maybe check if the kidnapped girls in his basement were well fed, because ice cream, much as it pains everyone to admit it, is not a nutritionally complete meal. It was a perfectly reasonable and measured response.”

“Mom had him sign a contract so he wouldn’t sue for emotional damages.”

“Mom overreacts—”

“Gee, I wonder who learned from her—”

“Says the girl who just screamed herself hoarse—”

“Says the horse-builder—”

“Can you two stop being… you for just long enough that we can settle this whole conversation before I try to impale my eardrums with my own helmet?” Armsmaster prickly, and unfairly, interjects in our endearing sibling dynamic.

“I’m not healing any self-inflicted injuries,” Amy says before smugly shooting me a side glance and rubbing her throat.

Oh, you bitch—

“Is there anything more to add other than it seems defeating a ‘One’ can grant a part of the original parahuman’s power?” Dragon tries to go for the conciliatory tactic of just pretending nothing weird is going on around her.

Around the recently embodied AI who likes to cosplay as a dragon girl.

… Right. Maybe it’s just that her threshold for ‘weird shit is going on’ is that much higher.

Anyway, time for my cape nerd status to get a workout.

“What Armsmaster has isn’t a part of Kaiser’s power. His metallokinesis was limited to generation, not manipulation of existing metal.”

“Isn’t metallokinesis just, you know, control?” Amy says, likely spoiled by her own broken kinesis.

“Nah, kinesis is Greek for ‘motion,’ but motion was a broad concept that was more akin to our concept of ‘change,’ and it was related to the whole philosophical problem of how change can even be possible. That included both generation and destruction, because it went against Parmenides teachings, as he stated that it was impossible for being to become not-being and—”

“What Miss Dallon means is that when we say some cape is a kinetic of some kind, it’s usually necessary to clarify what said kinesis consists of. Now, if we could move on from pre-Socratic authors—”

“Plato had a dialogue about Parmenides—”

“He was still pre-Socratic, Miss Dallon. Otherwise, Aristotle would be a Medieval author because Averroes commented his works.”

“No, I know, I just wanted to point out that—”

“Oh my God! Could you two stop being gigantic nerds for just a minute!”

Colin and I pause and look at Amy.

“College classes,” I say, pointing at my chest with my thumb.

“Tinker.” He shrugs.

Dragon giggles and Amy huffs.

… Is it too late to swap partners? Mine’s sense of humor seems to be broken.

… Oh God, I did notjust think that—oh fuck, oh fuck, and we cuddled and kissed in the same room as—aaaaaaaahhhhh!

“Right. As far as we know, defeating a ‘One’ grants a related ability. It seems to be very minor in scale and range when compared to the original, but I can feel it is very intricate and precise, which meshes with my own Tinker specialty, so maybe the new power just slots into the pre-existing one? Defeating more of them would be needed, maybe with a different parahuman striking the coup de grace each time so we—”

“Colin, we’re still in danger of facing our own Shadows if we stay here. We need to leave as soon as possible—not to mention I need your help to interface with my pre-existing equipment.”

He had narrowed his eyes at the insinuation that he should run away from danger, yet immediately shifted his mood when she asked him for help? Clever girl.

Also, he’s whipped. I know the signs.

“Right. Right, that seems like an urgent matter. Panacea, is Dragon stable enough to—”

“She currently has a minor Brute rating. She’s fitter than you,” Amy points out. And he bristles.

Ah, the wonders of the male ego.

“So… Maybe Armsmaster keeps testing his power, and we meet again to discuss how to move forward from here?” I hurry to ask.

“Yeah, sounds like a plan. And maybe, if he gets the stick out of his butt, I can give him those upgrades he’s salivating over.” Amy… Amy, why.

“I most certainly am not—”

“Nobody withoutan internal stick ever says ‘most certainly.’”

I try to resist the urge to facepalm, and fail.

Then I throw Amy over my shoulder and open the window.

“Right. It’s been marvelous to kill Nazi monsters with all of you, but I should go before my sister says anything that makes any of us want to throw her out of the window.”

“You’re getting far too comfortable with defenestrating me,” a voice near my lower back protests.

“Please, don’t tempt me.”

“That’s what shesaid,” she retorts with a cackle.

…

Fuck it.

I throw her out of the window.

“You biiiiiiitch!” Amy yells, establishing our second family tradition of the day.

“Right, see you all next time,” I say to the possibly stunned couple in the room as I align myself with the window before flying out. “Now, if there isn’t anything else, I should probably rush—oh shit!”

Note to self: first quip, then throw Ames out of a building. This will be a close call.

Still, seeing her try to flap her wings ineffectually like a drunk bat kinda makes up for the sheer terror as I rush down after her.

…

I take it back: it totally makes up for it.