Chapter 40: That’s Not How Therapy Works

Perry dragged himself out of the water, gasping in a desperate breath as he surfaced, clutching the edge of the pool with white knuckles.

Coughing out the irritating chlorine, Perry scanned the surrounding poolside, blinking the sting out of his eyes.

It was complete anarchy.

About two thirds of the supers present were fighting for the fun of it. Even Mom had gotten into it, hitting Gorganna with bolts of lightning that scattered off the snake-woman’s scales like water.

Grampa was hitting on Gramma on a bench in the corner while Gramma’s bloodbound shadow bodyguards formed a humanoid wall around her.

Andy the Giant and Titan were hanging out by the grill, talking to Sophie while piling up the last of the cooling burgers onto their plates, sniping the food om in the confusion.

Chemestro was reeling back in pain, clutching his hand.

Heather had a fist-print in her face, with spikes sticking out of it.

Can’t miss this!

Perry hauled himself out of the water and sprinted for Chemestro, angling a powerful kick at his kidneys. A rabbit punch would probably be more effective, but he didn’t wanna kill the guy.

…much.

There was a flash of light and an explosion, flinging Heather away just as Perry arrived, catching Chemestro in the right-hand side with a fully-wound-up kick, causing the super to stagger sideways, reeling in pain.

So he can’t stop it if he doesn’t know it’s there.Good to know.

It also implied that Chemestro didn’t have any supernatural spatial awareness that would alert him to things he couldn’t see.

Limited to awareness. Vision a major weakness.

Chemestro whipped around and smacked Perry aside with a wall of compressed air, causing him to slide across the pool’s tiles walkway, feeling like he just got hit by a truck.

On the surface, Perry was losing badly.

There was one big upside that justified this ass-kicking Perry was subjecting himself to:

Perry was learning a lot about Chemestro’s power, its limitations and weaknesses. Chemestro was learning absolutely nothing about Perry’s.

Chemestro propelled himself into the air and landed in a mount position, battering Perry’s arms and torso as Perry turtled up.

Chemestro had at least fifty pounds of lean muscle on Perry, and it was possibly improved by aftermarket enhancements such as those offered by Dr. Flex.

It blew Perry’s modest 15.7% increase out of the water, and his arms were battered into uselessness until he couldn’t keep them covering his face.

The hits started to catch Perry in the face, slamming his skull into the unyielding surface of the poolside, adding wounds to the back as well as front of his face.

Perry’s vision was starting to dim when Heather wrapped around Chemestro’s neck, reeling him off of Perry.

Chemestro choked for a moment and staggered backwards before he slipped out of Heather’s full-body hold, seemingly making either himself or Heather permeable.

He aimed a hand at Heather and the shapeshifter was lifted into the air by a series of small explosions, juggling the red-head in place as she accumulated damage from the shockwaves.

Heather cried out in pain as over ten seconds went by, subjected to an inescapable floating meatgrinder while Perry tried to sit up, his arms nearly inoperable.

“Hey!” Hardcase shouted, running out from the crowd and shoving Chemestro.

The six-and-a-half foot tall wall of muscle didn’t even shift when the four foot nine girl shoved him.

Hardcase paled and took a step back, perhaps realizing what a bad idea she’s committed to.

Chemestro glanced down and aimed a hand toward Hardcase.

A massive sausage fist closed down around Chemestro’s hand, a soft cracking sound echoing through the area.

Chemestro gave a sharp inhale as his hand crumpled.

“I think you’ve gone far enough,” Titan said, looking down into the cowl’s eyes. He took a bite of his burger.

Chemestro glanced between Perry and Heather, both of whom were struggling to get up.

“You’re right. Paradox and his friend are no longer capable of resisting.” Titan dropped Chemestro’s hand and dragged away the seething Hardcase by the shoulder.

Perry burst into giggles as he sat up on his elbows, only one eye capable of opening through the swelling.

“Something funny?” Chemestro said, squatting down in front of Perry, all emotion drained from his expression, the layer of discipline that Perry had peeled away had reasserting itself.

Perry continued chuckling, coughing weakly as he inhaled a bit of spit and blood.

“Yeah, I’d say so.” Perry said, meeting the cowl’s bright blue gaze.

“Enlighten me.”

Perry raised a trembling arm and pointed at Chemestro.

“You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

He flicked his finger.

The Lair Control Center saw this trigger gesture and smacked Chemestro with the force of a semi-truck, sending him tumbling backwards, smashing into the extra-sturdy walls of Perry’s motel.

Perry circled Chemestro’s prone form in his vision with his finger.

“Tenderize him, one point two five.”

The Lair control Center began an automated program designed to beat a person with twenty-five percent higher durability than baseline human within an inch of their life.

Perry didn’t do 40% because he was unsure of Chemestro’s actual durability and didn’t care to be responsible for his death. Similarly, Chemestro hadn’t made Perry’s bones fall out of his body during the fight. It was the polite thing to do when beating someone.

The jovial melee quieted as Chemestro was restrained and beaten by relentless invisible force from every conceivable direction, suspended in midair above the pool itself. Sparks and explosions and wobbly air surrounded the super as he tried to ward off the vicious assault, but accomplished nothing.

Perry groaned as he dragged himself to his feet, limping over to the ice chest and prying it open.

Ooh, root beer.

Perry grabbed a couple bottles and held one to his swollen eye, limping over to Heather and offering her the other.

“Why didn’t you do that from the beginning?” Heather muttered, sitting up.

“Classic rope-a-dope. I gained a ton of actionable intel from the fight.” Perry said.

“Him?” Perry asked, pointing his root beer at the limp form being tossed around midair. “He ain’t gonna remember much. One second he was winning, and the next…” Perry shrugged.

“Wish you’d told me the plan.”

“I didn’t even know he’d be here! How was I supposed to tell you anything beforehand?”

“Are you two okay?” Hardcase asked, staring up at the two of them with watery eyes behind her domino mask.

“We’ll live,” Heather said with a shrug.

Once Perry felt that Chemestro had been properly compensated for his intel, he pointed at him again.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

LCC jettisoned Chemestro into the sky, sending him flying half a dozen blocks away from Perry’s lair.

He’ll probably survive.

“Nicely done!” Dad said, approaching and clapping Perry on the shoulder. “You played that punk like a pro.”

“Sweetheart, are you okay!?” Hexen said, peering into his eyes, a point of light on her fingertip practically blinding him. “I think you have a concussion, baby.”

“I feel like I have a concussion,” Perry said over the ringing in his ears.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, Perry.” Grampa said as he approached. “I don’t see what the big deal is about dressing up in tights and fighting other people also wearing tights for no particular reason.”

“Agreed,” Gramma said. “Claudette, fix the damage to his brain and vital organs, but leave the superficial damage as a reminder.”

“But,” Mom hesitated.

“I’m fine with that.” Perry said with a chuckle. “I earned these bruises.”

Mom sighed.

“Fine,” She said, her hand glowing ivory momentarily before passing it over his forehead. “But seriously, Perry, try not to get so much brain damage next time. If it’s not healed magically, it can become permanent.”

“Bah, my boy can take a little brain damage.” Dad said, waving it off.

“Did I raise a goddamn simpleton?” Grampa asked, glaring at Dad. “Or is it just a side effect of running around in tights?”

“Armor. I wear armor, dad.”

As Mom worked, Perry’s head cleared, the ringing fading to nothing in seconds, while his family’s bickering formed a comforting background noise.

I gotta finish the healing spell-frame, Perry thought as he felt a million times better when Mom’s glowing hand lifted away from his forehead.

Sure his limbs were still limp noodles comprised mostly of bruise, he walked with a pronounced limp and his eye was swollen…

But he didn’t feel like he was about to lose his teeth, drown in blood, pee red, or pass out.

And that was good enough.

“All kidding aside…that was a good fight, Perry. You took that beating like a man.” Grampa said, patting Perry on the shoulder.

“Indeed, I’ve never seen Dregor’s Binding used in such a novel way.” Gramma said with a hint of a smile. “You’ve given me ideas, young man.”

“That was Dregor’s Binding?” Mom asked, jaw dropping, glancing between Perry and Gramma. “How!?”

“I don’t know, but the essences were there if you paid attention to them.”

“They just looked like invisible robotic arms to me!” Mom said. “You saw essences in them?”

“Still too naïve, Claudette,” Gramma said patronizingly to Hexen, fifth most powerful super in Franklin city.

“Good job, kid,” Dad said, giving him a warm hug.

“Now I gotta get outta here before your gramma remembers how much she hates me,” Dad whispered in Perry’s ear.

Perry broke into a chortle.

“Haha, Ow, my face.”

***Chemestro***

Twelve forty-two woke, his head pounding violently. Acting on his training, he immediately took control of his heart, keeping it at a steady forty BPM.

He took a deep, slow breath and identified the characteristic smell of home.

Steel and antiseptic.

Deciding it was worth the risk of opening his eyes, Twelve forty-two scanned the surroundings through his eyelashes, verifying that he was in Med-bay.

What happened? Twelve forty-two thought as he performed a self-eval, finding his body to be covered in rapidly fading contusions. In another hour he would be at full strength.

Twelve forty-two applied his power to his wounds, speeding up the healing by relieving the swelling and moving the blood back where it belonged, patching up his broken veins with speed born of experience.

“I’m disappointed, Chemestro.” Father’s voice echoed through the speakers in the shiny steel wall of the med-bay.

That’s right, my name’s Chemestro now, Twelve forty-two – No, Chemestro thought, sliding out of the bed, removing the I.V. and standing at attention.

“Father, I have no excuse.” Chemestro said. If I remembered what happened, I might have one. Chemestro kept his heartbeat under control. He’d seen punishment meted out for showing fear.

“Indeed. You’ve always been the best of your brothers and sisters,” Neuron said as the door slid open revealing Father in person. “From the day you Triggered a Catalyst power that could rival Solaris, you’ve done nothing but excelled. I had such confidence in you that I allowed you to probe Paradox on your own recognizance.”

Chemestro’s eye twitched as he remembered the events of the afternoon before. He’d beat Paradox soundly and then…pain?

“Someone ambushed me? Was it the bruiser?” The damage he’d taken certainly was consistent with a bruiser.

“Paradox stopped taking it easy on you once you’d showed him every weapon in your arsenal. You were tricked, you ignorant child. You attacked a Tinker in his lair. That’s literally a euphemism for suicide by stupidity!”

Lightning emerged from the walls and tore through Chemestro’s body, driving him to his knees with physical force.

“GAH!” his lungs forced a scream from him as they contracted under the assault of electricity. He collapsed to the ground as his entire body cramped, muscles threatening to tear themselves off the bone.

“You were stupid and you failed. You failed your mission, you failed me, and I…”

The lightning cut off, leaving Chemestro panting, face-down against the acrid steel floor. The pain and scent of cleaning agent was nostalgic.

“I have failed you.” Neuron said.

Chemestro thought he might’ve hallucinated it, peering up at Father, who floated above him, blue eyes looking down at him through the glass of his jar.

“My training designed to drive all weakness from you created a weakness... Irony abounds.” Father said as he turned away, the door sliding open as he floated along.

“Follow.”

“Sir,” Chemestro said, trying to push himself to his feet with his power, receiving a mild shock as he discovered the suppressers were on again.

They haven’t been on in years, Chemestro thought, the shock of betrayal penetrating far deeper than the physical pain.

“Chemestro?” Father asked, prompting him to scramble to his feet and follow.

Wiping all emotion from his face, Chemestro walked beside Father, shoulders squared.

“From now on we will add two hours of intense training to your schedule so that this never happens again.”

“Sir.” Chemestro said, internally rearranging his schedule.

“It’s come to my attention that a lack of contact with others during childhood can create a hypersensitivity. Paradox realized this and exploited it in a matter of seconds. The nemesis I have chosen for you has performed his fault-testing duty admirably.”

“I see, sir.” Chemestro said.

They stopped in front of a bulkhead door.

“Emotions…are not my strong suit, son. Which is why I kidnapped a therapist.”

The bulkhead door swung open to reveal a woman with curly brown hair down to her shoulders, wearing a maroon sweater. Her arms were clutched to her front in clear defensive posturing.

“You will spend two hours a day desensitizing yourself to sympathy and intimate contact, until you can tolerate it.”

“Therapist.” Father said, turning to the woman displaying her emotions for all to see. Like a civilian. Like Paradox.

Chemestro’s eye twitched.

“My name’s Lu’ann?” She said, her voice trembling.

“I did not kidnap you for your name, but your profession,” Father said. “Therapist, you will express sympathy and hug Chemestro for precisely two hours a day. Starting now.”

“W-what?” she whispered, glancing between the two of them.

“Now.” Plasma radiated outward from Father’s glass.

The therapist moved forward hesitantly, wrapping her pathetic, tiny, useless, civilian arms around Chemestro.

“I’m sorry he does this to you.” She whispered into his ear, tears running down her cheeks.

Chemestro’s hair stood on end, and he reflexively shoved the therapist away, causing her to fall backward into her cell before she began making awful…noises…that struck some nerve buried deep inside him.

“Good.” Father said as Chemestro stood there, panting.

“Now do it again.”

***Perry***

Perry went over the video of the fight, wincing every time he got punched or kicked. From the outside it looked even more pathetic. But he needed to take careful notes to figure out the cowls entire power suite.

It was a 3-d view of the LCC taken by cameras surrounding the model of the property, which allowed him to surveil his entire lair without having any actual cameras that people could see or interact with.

Although, I might want to place some dummies.

Perry paused the fight when he spotted Chemestro punch Heather in the face, the first and only time he struck his shapeshifting team-member physically.

Heather selectively hardened parts of her body while allowing other parts to sink in, basically causing Chemestro to mangle his own hand against spikes embedded in her face.

A clever move against someone who could hold you in place.

Perry slowed the fight down as Chemestro staggered away, clutching his hand.

He zoomed in.

Blood welled up on Chemestro’s fist, then retreated back into the super’s hand, leaving bloodless wounds.

“Hmmm…” Perry started the fight forward again.

Chemestro, alerted to Wraith’s ability to punish a physical attack, fluidly switched to ranged tactics, indicating either high intelligence or training. Probably both.

A few moments later the fight ended when Perry flicked him.

The view of Chemestro was momentarily occluded when one of the model’s robotic arms reached down and smacked Chemestro’s model, hard.

Perry watched the robotic arms pick up Chemestro’s model and hold him over the pool while beating him senseless.

“Wait a minute,” Perry muttered, running the video back to where Chemestro smashed against the wall after the first hit.

Perry paused.

There was a little red splotch where Chemestro’s hand hit the wall, as he momentarily lost control over his blood.

Heart slamming in his chest, Perry grabbed a sample vial, a q-tip and limped up the stairs as fast as he could.

A minute later, Perry was inspecting a blood-soaked piece of cotton inside a glass tube.

“Gotcha.”