The Good Old Days

“You ever think this would be the kind of thing you would wind up doing for a living Lou?” Sophie asked as she sipped at a cup of coffee. They’d been out at a stakeout tonight in the bitter chill so she needed something warm as soon as possible. Louis had encased himself in a blanket and was lying on the singular couch in the room. He looked thoroughly too content with himself.

“Stealing things for a living?” He chewed on the thought for a minute before nodding. “Yeah, it was this or nothing.” He said warmly as he flopped off half of his blanket and grabbed his own cup of coffee from the table. He took a sip and his whole face went slack in euphoria. He looked over to Sophie smiling sleepily. “What about you, ever figure you’d wind up working for some shadow organization?”

“Society.” Sophie corrected quickly, she grinned snidely at Louis who could only smile in return- he was ever the one to yell “Society” when someone mislabelled their Society as anything but a Society. “Nah, I had another vocation but that fell through.” She said with a quick shrug before pacing to the window.

She peered out at the various people of Paris running around in the rain. A twisted little smile formed on her face, warm coffee and cold people were a wonderful combo. Louis flopped up into a sitting position to stare over at his partner. “Do tell.”

Sophie’s head turned around to look at her partner, who she noticed still winced when she twisted her neck in any way that unnatural, before rolling her shoulders and twisting her body back around- another minor wince. “You want to know?” She asked a faint tinge of disbelief on her words.

“I’m not doing much else, Sophie. Lay it on me.” Louis sipped at his coffee and lay back on the couch with a warm smile on his face. Sophie leaned against the window, a slight chill licking at the exposed portion of lower back, and cast her eyes skyward at the light bulb. The harsh light clicking a memory back into place.

“So years back, I was about 18 I think I can’t remember terribly well. I joined up with the army, save the nation and all that, joined up and wound up apparently blowing minds with the fact that I could pull a trigger good. So the powers that be, for lack of a better term, got it into their head to dredge up an old idea from the 60’s, the era of good ideas. To build up Meta-Human soldiers, cliché and trite I know but that’s the way of the world.” She stretched a hand over and deposited her coffee cup on a nearby table.

She blew out a breath from her nose. “So apparently they decided I was totally the best person in the world for this process. Maybe it was like my score on some kind of test or maybe they wanted to get a team with a chick on it so someone didn’t get up their ass about correctness and gender equality.” She paced toward the couch Louis was on.

“So they told me that it would be for the good of the nation if I let them stick me full of needles and bubblegum from Mars, then I would be helping to save the world.” She let out a sigh before collapsing on the couch alongside Louis who continued to sip at his coffee. One eye on his partner, he was ever nervous of her presence; every second of every day was part of one of her combat drills. He still has nightmares about the time she jumped him in the shower with a blunted knife.

“So a good number of painful operations later I was genetic defect.” She leaned back over the couch, her neck sliding down the back of the couch to the floor where it landed with a muffled thud.  “Oh sorry that wasn’t what they called us. We were; Products of Our Great Country designed to protect its people from those that would do them harm. Fuck, it sounds like something you’d see in a bad comic. “Her head slowly hoisted itself back into the correct place with a melancholic expression. Her glassy eyes starring off at someone in another place and another time as ghost sounds slowly slid into place as if she’d had a set of headphones slipped on.

“They gave us new names and codenames. They burned our old lives away with money and secrecy. We weren’t us anymore we were who we needed to be.” She slouched forward hands clasped just in front of her. “Then they sent us out on mission Homeland Extraction Rescue Operations or H.E.R.O missions.” She chuckled at the name. “Fuck we sound like X-men don’t we?”

Louis didn’t say anything but just opted to keep sipping at his coffee. He was desperate to get this clarified however; was Sophie even her real name or was it her cover identity? Just because his partner was being all nostalgic it didn’t mean she wouldn’t pounce within a couple of seconds. She’d done similar things before; the memory of her screaming in the middle of the night came to him. He’d ran into her room and she collapsed from the ceiling flattened out like a sheet and enveloped him before clubbing at him with a hammer she had somewhere; knocked him out cold that time. In the morning she looked almost sorry  about it- made him breakfast and everything.

“It was our job to break into places we weren’t supposed to break into masquerading as vigilante do-gooders and break people out; there by the big people can feign ignorance and just lampshade us as mysterious do-gooders and all around nice eggs. Hell we were hired out to other countries for horrendous sums of money to save their operatives.” Sophie drummed her fingers on the arm of the couch.

“So you thought you’d be doing that for the rest of your life?” He asked meekly, not sure if he should make a joke about going from hero to villain or about her being in tights and a domino mask but that small entirely rational part of him said it would be fool hardy.

“I did.” She said simply, starring at the rain which seemed to have started falling harder. “I really did. Because I assumed my life was going to be much shorter than it turned out to be.” Her fingers twitched lightly, thumb tapping some invisible object held between her index and middle finger.

“It started out all bright and shiny people; truth, justice and the American way. Superman shite.” She spat the motto. “It went south, things got wrong. Not quickly; it wasn’t as if one day I was saving kids and the next I was throwing them out of the window. It was a gradual change.” Her head twitched for a second. “We started getting weapons, guns and firearms when we wouldn’t need them. We started being given secondary jobs like planting fake documents- at first- then we were doing things like blowing up power stations.” She raised her fingers to her lips and seemed to catch herself.

“Then we started running into our doubles; other countries bellied up to the: create a hero workshop and threw together their own special branches of the military. Meta-humans, cyborg soldiers and all kinds of top secret shit the world doesn’t get to know about. Man’s weird war on itself with the superhuman.” World War Weird had a nice ring to it but Louis was hardly going to say that now.

“That’s when the rough stuff started. Super Hero punch ups on street corners and the like became the daily routine.” Her mouth twitched up at the corners, tugging into a smile. “It was sort of fun in a strange way; just lamping into one another for no reason except a couple of differing opinions between two people who were thirteen thousand miles away. I must have wound up getting knocked around by guys the size of tanker trucks for weeks. Fights with people made of fire and some people who could summon giant robots made of soda machines. It was dangerous and I don't mind telling you I assumed I'd die in one of those fights.” She chuckled slightly. “Those were the good times.”

“So then what happened?” Louis leaned across and reached for Sophie who snapped from her memories like a grenade had gone off. She grabbed his hand and with a sharp tug dragged him across to her.

“Quit hogging the blanket, I’m cold.” She snapped as she squirreled her way under the woollen blanket pressing herself against Louis. Apparently history time was over; he'd have to start digging again later, maybe tell her some details of his sordid past- though he was certain her story topped his in every regard. Still he could have a little fun with the current situation. Louis smiled and whispered in her ear in his best wooing tone.

“My aren’t we feeling frisky?” the effect was ruined when Sophie’s head snapped around to glare into his eyes; he froze like a deer caught in the headlights. She broke into a loud velvety laugh.

“No, I am feeling cold.” She corrected. “We elastic folk, rubber people, Katies or what have you, are sensitive to the cold.”

“Katies?”

“I heard it making the rounds; sounds decent.” She shrugged and her head slid back to its original position to once again look out into the miserable night. “I need warming up and unfortunately that means sharing a blanket with you.”  Louis blew a thicket of her hair from his face and went to disentangle himself from the blanket.

“Well if I’m such a nuisance then I dare say I’ll away.” He was promptly subdued when Sophie leaned back against him. He spat some more hair from his face and hooked his chin onto her shoulder. “Or not.”

“Hmm too cold, as much as it pains me you’re making this comfortable. So just sit yourself right there and let me get toasty.” She relaxed against Louis who decided he had little better to do than keep his partner warm for the night.

“Fine I can manage that.” He made it sound like he was in for an ordeal as he snaked an arm around her exposed midriff. She shuddered slightly, his hands were freezing.

“You’re lucky I need you for warmth or I’d snap that hand off.” She counselled as she dragged herself and Louis down to a prone position, her head propped up on one arm of the couch. Louis decided he was in this for the long haul and simply placed another arm around her.

“Aye aye.” He said monotone. He’d learned that when Sophie threatened him it was often a strange alien way of thanking him. “I’ve been meaning to say; thanks again.”

“Wuzzat?” Sophie said drearily. She was tired and the warmth of blanket, heater and Louis was dragging her off to slumber-land; stupid Louis being all comfortable and junk, how dare he.

“For coming after me in the sub; I mean you could have just pissed off and sold the thing and lived a life of luxury for a while. I figured you’d see me as a lost cause and not bother to come fetch me.” Louis said absently as he stared out the window. Sophie just pressed herself against Louis wanting to get warmer, Louis shifted slightly as her body compressed and contorted around him; her legs entwined with his and her arms formed a loose circle around the pair of them.

“No such thing as a lost cause, now shut it, want sleep.” At that Sophie collapsed into light snores and Louis, rather tied up at the time, just opted to lay there and let his partner dream of whatever she was dreaming of.

The sound of power drills and loose teeth hitting the floor was the soundtrack to her dreams, things being sharpened just beside your ears; little snicker snack sounds.

“You know why they call me FingerSmith?” A voice, that was ages too young, asked amidst the clicking and clacking of utensils. A whimper was the reply.

“Well it’s all really simple; a smith is someone who knows their craft. Blacksmith you know? I’m a specialist. I work fingers into new and interesting shapes, like that one for instance. Let me see your pinkie.” Scrape, slap, scrape. “Your nail looks all wrong, thankfully I can fix that.”

The sound of knives being sharpened, the sound of screams, the sound of secrets spilling out amidst tears and teeth was the sound of a job well done. The enemy had secrets and we wanted them; there was no room for a stretchy Meta-Human on the front lines. They were sneaky cavorting lot who did their best work in the shadows.

Put her in The Black Room with the tools of the trade and have her pry loose secrets from the unwilling. They have a quick round of amnesiacs after work; so they can do it all again tomorrow, with no burden on their conscience. Wipe away all that grime and muck so they know their doing the right thing.

Never forget the good old days Sophie. They won’t let you forget no matter how hard you try. Doesn't matter how many of those drugs they jammed into you, memories can last a long time. Ghost sounds of people screaming still keep you up at night but you can’t remember why, can you? You just remember your name is Sophie Thomson, which it might not be, and you helped save the world. You don’t need to remember The Black Room and what you did to people.

A thousand years later she’s in a jungle or a bar themed like a jungle. It’s hot and humid and there’s liquor what more could she want? A man sits across from her. A man who smiles at her like he knows something she doesn’t and then he starts talking.

Hello Sophie, how are we today? It’s been a while and I must say you’re not looking your very best. No, I suppose none of them do; the H.E.R.O lot are all gone or mad. Amnesiacs never lasted and eventually the dead and buried we locked away in their minds ate them alive from the inside out. Shame really. Not you though Ms. Thomson; you’re a fighter.

She isn’t sure what he’s saying. His eyes are glass and a clear reflective liquid is dripping from his eyes onto the table a mirror shine reflecting who she was way back when. Young, hair in a nice little bun, a stars and stripes latex morph-suit and she thinks for a second she looks happy.

I feel partially responsible for you Ms. Thomson; so I’m going to help you. There’s no such thing as a lost cause after all.

A knife goes into her chest and Sophie snaps awake biting back a scream. Her whole body shudders for a second and she manically notices someone’s get their arms around her. She can snap his neck in less time than it takes him to wake up. Her head snaps around to get a look at her attacker and…no.

There isn’t a knife. Was there ever a knife? Louis is holding onto her and he’s passed out in their shared embrace.  She adjusts herself slightly; her body twists around to face Louis. She looked down briefly to check for any sort of stab wounds; none. There never is, there isn’t any there in life, no puckering stab wounds no fountains of blood.

She’s fine; dreams are just weird. She blames the French cuisine and nestles against her partner before slowly letting sleep take her again.

Don’t forget the good old days Sophie, we won’t forget you.