Chapter 1.1.17 — Armor and Footsteps

“You can relax,” she said again. “They’re not coming after us.”

Emmett had run another four blocks across the rooftops, and only stopped when they were definitively along the boardwalk and out of the slums.

Clara had flown beside him with her cloaking system engaged. During that time she’d shimmered like a mirage, but otherwise been completely invisible. When they finally stopped to rest, her suit shimmered and became its normal understated gray.

Futuristic was the best word Emmett could come up with to describe it. It looked like a fighter jet pared down and molded into a suit of armor. At the same time it was understated, walking a line between subtle and commanding—if it had any weapon systems loaded then they were hidden and hidden well.

It reminded him of the former cape, Arsenal, but then there were a dozen other big league tech-based heroes.

Emmett was so captivated by Clara’s armor that he’d almost forgotten about his injuries.

Almost.

He was looking over her shoulder connections and helmet, when he reached up to scratch his chin and promptly winced at the pain.

“You look like shit,” Clara said.

“Thanks,” Emmett muttered.

“But nothing’s broken and you don’t have any internal bleeding.”

“How can you be sure?”

Clara tapped her helmet. “There’s a lot of tech crammed in here. The medical suite is one of the least impressive.”

Emmett breathed deep to laugh and promptly winced at the pain in his ribs. He was torn between wanting to know absolutely everything about Clara and her armor, and wanting to pass out.

“You owe me an explanation,” he finally said. “You know that, right?”

Clara snorted. “I had a bet with Dad what you would do first: Ask questions or ask me to fly you home.”

Emmett smiled. The moon was hanging full in the sky and reflecting in the calm water of the bay. It was a beautiful night…

But Emmett wanted to go home.

“How about you walk me home?”

Clara reached for the side of her armor and a small compartment clicked open. She pulled something tiny out and tossed it to him. An earpiece.

“Wear that, and we can talk. I’ll be in stealth mode, right beside you.”

Emmett put on the earpiece and marveled at how it seemed to shrink and conform so it fit flush to his ear.

Then Clara’s armor shimmered and vanished. Emmett felt a gust of heat as she took off from the roof, but even that seemed muted.

Emmett started jogging parallel to the bay, heading west.

Occasionally, he thought he heard the muffled sound of her thrusters, but no matter how many times he glanced over his shoulder, Emmett didn’t see Clara’s armor.

Clara’s voice came through the earpiece. “Do me a favor and keep your eyes on the city. Less chance of you giving away my position.”

Emmett scoffed. He couldn’t even figure out where she was—

But maybe other supers could.

Emmett kept his eye on the city.

“So, what questions do you have?” she asked.

Emmett leapt from one roof to another, stuttering on his landing from the dull pain that seemed to travel through his whole body.

“You’re… You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“No!” she said quickly. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, you seemed like something was bugging you in the lab today. I thought maybe I spent too much time in the Gray Room training. You said nothing was wrong, but then you let those two supers kick the shit out of me. So, I thought maybe you were mad after all.”

Clara chuckled in his earpiece. “I was in the neighborhood when I got the alert that you were in combat. By the time I got there, you already had the bruiser by the throat. You were fine.

“But you’re right. I was short with you. I’ve, uh, been burning the candle at both ends, between patrolling the city and keeping up with Dad’s research.”

Even though Clara sounded upbeat, she sounded as tired as he felt.

“That’s where you were yesterday? You know,” he said, “your dad would probably give you a break if you asked for one.”

“Yeah… he would. And that’s why I can’t. Dad needs a break more than I do.”

Emmett frowned. In that regard, Clara sounded just like his mom—always taking care of others and not taking enough care of herself.

Clara continued, “It’s not like I can take a break, anyways… Someone has to teach you how to fight.”

“Was it that bad?”

“From what I saw… Yes.”

Emmett chuckled awkwardly. “Good thing I have two teachers then.”

He paused at the edge of the next roof to consider how he would cross Eighteenth Street. Emmett wasn’t exactly keen on climbing down and walking across the street again, seeing what happened last time.

Clara must have seen his face.

“Don’t worry,” she said. There’s not another super for three blocks. Back of the alley is clear.”

Emmett nodded, then went to the backside of the building and leapt down to the alley. His legs spasmed when he landed, and he sucked a breath in through his teeth.

“Don’t suppose you’ve got an extra suit of armor I can use for next time?”

“Do you really think we have these just lying around? Because we do, but none that will fit you comfortably.”

Emmett chuckled, stuffed his hands in his pocket, kept his head down, and crossed Eighteenth as inconspicuously as he could. If nobody looked directly at him, maybe they wouldn’t notice the blood that caked the front of his hoodie.

“How about an extra hoodie?” Emmett asked.

“Did Dad give you the talk about having extra clothes?”

“Yep.”

Emmett headed toward the nearest alley and jumped up to reach the fire escape, gritting his teeth as he hauled himself over the bars.

The clangs of the bars startled a couple making out at the end of the alley, and they quickly left.

“Woops,” Emmett muttered.

Moments later, he was at the top and running across the roofs toward the West End.

“So are you going to tell me why you feel like you can’t take a break? Are you trying to live up to your dad or something?”

“...Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Emmett scoffed a laugh. “You couldn’t sound more unconvincing if you tried.”

Clara didn’t answer, and Emmett was left alone with the sound of his feet pounding on the roof.

“That is part of it,” she finally said. “Dad wasn’t just any cape.”

“Still not going to say which?”

“Not out here.”

Emmett’s pace faltered, and he suddenly felt much more self-conscious about their conversation.

“Worried about someone eavesdropping?”

Clara snorted a laugh. “There are supers that can hear a pin drop across the city, see in UV, and read minds. Yes. I’m always worried about someone eavesdropping, and you should be too.”

“Fair enough.”

“But Dad and I are artificers. That part should be obvious from the armor… We don’t have super strength or psychic power. My dad made almost all of his tech—quite literally made himself the cape that he was.

“A large portion of supers inherit their powers from their parents, but it’s a different story for artificers. We’re not limited by inheritance from our parents, or our strength or psychic power. We’re just limited by what we can create.

“That’s what I have to follow. That’s what I have to live up to.”

Emmett listened intently—relating without completely understanding.

Up until that point, he thought it had been rough enough that his parents wanted him to graduate college so that he would have more opportunities than they had. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like if one or both of them had been capes and he was living in their shadow.

Now, on top of all that, she was going to teach Emmett to fight too?

Not that he wasn’t grateful—Emmett would take all the help he could get.

When silence had settled between them, Emmett added, “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“I appreciate it. For now, just focus on keeping up.”

~

Emmett stopped near Hosta Street on the West End. He would climb down from the roof and walk the rest of the way.

He pulled off his blood-soaked mask and took up his blood-stained hoodie. He’d bunch them up and carry them under his arm.

Emmett turned to a random spot in the sky and asked, “How do I look?” He smiled, sure that he had blood in his mouth.

Clara’s voice came through the earpiece. “Better, but take some spit and wipe your face. Otherwise, people are going to think you’re an axe-murderer. …On second thought, just wipe your face because your mouth is still bleeding.”

Emmett chuckled and smiled for real. “Thanks for walking me home.”

“Don’t mention it.”

There was the slightest gust of warm air telling Emmett that Clara had flown off.

Even though Emmett knew he wouldn’t see her, he searched the sky anyway. A few seconds later, he gave up and climbed down from the roof to finish his walk home.

Emmett kept his head down as he reached the Woods. Thankfully, there were only a few students out on the lawn and Emmett didn’t catch anyone staring at him as he passed. He didn’t relax until he got to his apartment.

A wave of exhaustion overcame him as he opened the door—

Followed promptly by dread.

Emmett stood in the doorway, waiting to hear if Lock was home. It hadn’t even crossed his mind to think of an excuse to tell Lock.

But Emmett didn’t hear anything. He shut the door behind him and crept toward the bathroom.

The apartment was empty. Lock’s room was empty.

Emmett heaved a sigh of relief and set to cleaning himself up in the bathroom. He stripped his hoodie and shirt off and tried not to dwell on the bruises that covered his ribs. Then he wiped the blood off his neck and face and found his right eye was swollen and blue.

“Shit,” Emmett muttered.

He went and grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and popped a pain reliever, hoping the swelling would go down by morning.

Then he shut his door, crawled into bed, and promptly passed out.

~ ~ ~