Ch. 3: The Start of Great Things

"Stupid fucking..." I hear someone yanking on the metal door to the decon chamber, while I'm half asleep.

I jerk awake, suddenly looking at a shirtless and helmetless Rogue Wave in front of me. "Uhh..." he says, looking straight at me. "Hey..."

"Hey..?" I say in response, voice still distorted from behind the mask. God, my guts still hurt like hell. I really need to fix that before they get worse.

I watch him let go of the door in resigned irritation. "You, uhh... you already know what I look like. You don't need to wear your costume."

He didn't phrase that like a question, and I suppose there's no point hiding it. He knows where I live, now. "Right, sorry. Rude of me. Oh, don't hold your breath for this. Level one gas flush decontamination living spaces one through three."

A stream of gases pour through small nozzles on the ceiling, making him drop to the floor and cover his eyes and mouth. I watch him hold his breath for as long as he can, but the gases will keep alternating until he starts to breathe again. Eventually, he gives up, and I hear two short beeps as the gas flush ends and the mist fades away.

Rogue Wave watches me in confusion as I press a series of hidden buttons on my neck. With a hiss, the mask comes off. "Right..." I say, trying to hide my nervousness. "I'm Vivian. You, uhh... got pretty badly hurt. Couldn't patch you up on site. Ditched your shoes and belt in an empty crate before EDR showed up, carried you for about half an hour. Brought you here, fixed you up, and... that's it."

"Huh. Didn't think you'd be a girl... I get it. What's with the tube, and all the gas, though?" he asks, yanking again on the metal door as if to prove a point.

"Dispower. No immune system. The bright side is it means I don't have allergies anymore since there's no immune system to attack anything. Downside is I have to live entirely in fully decontaminated areas."

He grimaces, which is the usual reaction I get. He probably thought his dispower was bad, but mine is just ungodly. "That... sucks. A lot," he says.

"Thanks, I know." I sardonically laugh, before it trails off into a mournful exhale. "Anyway, your trident and helmet are still in the decon chamber, shirt is pretty much toast but probably better than shirtless... I'd offer you a jacket, but we're not quite the same size."

"Yeah, for sure... I have a question, though."

"Sure, go for it."

"Why the hell are you a solo vigilante and not a group's medic?"

What kind of question is that? I'm not under any obligation for that kind of thing, and I'm skeptical about teams. "I don't know, fun? I'm a doctor during the day, feels kind of redundant to be a doctor at night, too. Plus, I need a whole lab to properly treat people."

"You kept me alive long enough to get me here, and I'm pretty sure I should have been dead." He gestures at his pinpricked chest, still covered in dozens of small scabs.

"Well... maybe. I don't even know a team, though."

"I could find you one. Your power, your life, I guess. Just saying, a hell of a lot of teams would kill to have you supporting them. Here..." He looks around the room for a pen and paper, before giving up and simply offering me his phone. "Just put your contact info in. No strings attached."

I nod. What choice do I have?

Emily steps into the decontamination chamber, seeing me scrubbing the already somewhat stained couch furiously.

"Hey... spill a glass of wine or something?" Emily asks me after stepping out of the glass chamber.

"I wish. This is blood."

Emily covers her eyes with a hand. "Gross. What happened? Did you get hurt?"

"A bit, not as much as the cape I had to drag here to save." My abdomen feels infinitely better now that I've had a moment to properly treat it. Better than before, even.

"You brought a cape here? Jesus Christ, you know-"

"That this place should be secret yeah yeah yeah. I'm working on it." The truth is, I have no idea what to do about this now. There's nothing even remotely within my budget to do here. I have about two million in the bank, but excavating a tunnel like this in secret while creating a proper decontamination chamber that can detect its own issues and self-repair is absurdly expensive. I can only hope that Rogue Wave keeps his mouth shut.

"Well shit... hopefully it wasn't a villain."

"The opposite. Helped me take down a nasty one last night." I admire my work. Apparently, 'too much dried blood' was enough for my power to create an incredibly strong cleaning substance. It's almost like it's given up trying to fight me on what counts as medicine, or maybe I'm just getting better at putting myself in the right headspace.

"Wait, do you mean the big tree guy?"

Must have made the news. "Mhmm. Taxus."

"Apparently, he almost died."

I take an slow breath. Somehow, 'almost died' was better than I expected. "It wasn't me. Entirely. It got hairy."

"I'm not judging, Fuck skinheads. I just thought you would want to know."

Oh, good, we're on the same page. "That makes me feel a bit better. And I might be joining a team."

Emily shakes her head. "Bad idea. Vigilante teams never end well. There's always someone in the team who wants to go clean or drop down to hell, and then tries to drag everyone with them."

It's something I've considered as well. Villain teams and hero teams are usually pretty stable, but vigilante teams are constantly splintering and recombining like raindrops on a window. And like raindrops, they only ever go downhill.

Still, if it means helping the maximum amount of people, it could be worth it. Rogue Wave and I don't have very compatible abilities, but we still managed to take out a pretty severe threat. "Maybe an ad-hoc thing. Like commitment free volunteering for teams doing something not shitty."

Emily sits on the newly cleaned couch. "Yeah, I guess. You do have a bit of notoriety in the area as a good-intentioned wildcard. At least, that's what local online forums think."

"That's me to a T." I stretch a bit, still feeling the wear from last night and being too lazy to make a cure for 'a little stiff'. "You're half of Beaker too. You say the word, and I'll drop the team idea." I hope she doesn't, but if so, I'll respect it. I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for her, let alone running around in a dorky costume throwing things at fascists. She has as much say in what I do in costume as I do.

Emily sighs. "Ad-hoc, no commitments."

Score. "Sounds perfect. I'll let you know who I'll be working with, if anyone."

I lounge around my bedroom, expecting some kind of communication from Rogue Wave. Maybe I should message first? No, that'd be weird. Wouldn't it? Wait, I don't even have his number.

My phone buzzing startles me into almost dropping it. I look at the message from an unknown sender:

'Unknown: Highway, Whippersnapper, Fritillary, they pick up, dumb gang bullshit but they have capes now'

I read it two more times to be sure. I actually know Fritillary, a butterfly themed vigilante I met in passing when I was first starting out around five months ago. Highway sounds vaguely familiar, while Whippersnapper is a blank. I check them all on the wikis, and get back nothing of note, other than some rather creepy fanart of Fritillary... Still, I'm pretty enthusiastic about it. With a quick text to Emily that gets a thumbs up emoji in response, I confirm where I'd like to be picked up: an address two blocks diagonal from my home.

Now I just have to make a bunch of replacement elixirs. They tend to follow similar if not identical recipes, and I've done the basic ones enough that I know what to expect. It's fairly easy to replenish what I used.

When it's almost time and the sun has set, I gear up, and step out into the moonlight. With a twirl of my cane, I strut along to the address, before absently leaning against the wall in a shadowed alley. According to Rogue Wave, I'm waiting for a red, slightly rusty van.

Unfortunately, what pulls up is a red, incredibly rusty van that makes me wonder how it's even being held together. I steel my nerves, and rap on the door with my cane. The back right window rolls down, revealing the occupants.

Fritillary is, as always, beautiful, even when sitting in the back seat of an ugly van. Fragile butterfly wings stay pinned against her back, but already reveal a dazzling array of black and dark blues with whitish blue dots lining the tips. The woman herself is equally eye-catching, a sepia skin tone like Emily's, with eyes as dark blue as her wings, complete with small, bluish white dots across her wide nose and round cheeks, almost like freckles. Her costume is simply a pair of jeans and a tank top, its not as though she can really hide her identity while being a vigilante, instead she hides her wings with a binder and facial pattern with makeup in her "normal" life.

Highway is far less complex. A light gray zentai suit that covers his entire body, with crude yellow lines running up his legs and to his shoulders, before returning down along his back. I hope the suit doesn't impair his driving.

Whippersnapper is the one in the passenger seat, by process of elimination. He's young, maybe 19 or 20, wearing a propeller hat and a holding a halloween mask of a crying baby in his left hand. Why anyone would want to make that into their identity is a complete enigma to me. It looks off-putting and kind of creepy, and not the fun kind of creepy. Still, its not like I'm in any place to judge, considering my routine.

"Good tidings, Fritillary! Tis been a time since our last encounter." I say through the distorted voice, smiling beneath the mask.

"Good tidings yourself! You got a name, huh? Beaker?"

"Indeed. A bit on the nose, pardon the pun, though I admit the moniker has grown upon me." It isn't the worst name I could have gotten. As far as I can tell, it's because of both the potions I use and the literal beak of my plague doctor getup, though maybe it also refers to the old slang for mouthing off. Most likely not, I think. And hope.

Highway addresses me from the driver's seat. "Hey, Beaker. Heard you were cool with teaming from Rogue Wave. You good?"

"Most certainly! I am faring excellently this lovely moonlit night, and I am honored to make your acquaintance. Do remember, this is not a permanent arrangement, merely me lending a gloved hand for the more troublesome terrors you face."

"Yeah, I got it."

Whippersnapper turns around to look at me next. "Hey. I'm new. Don't underestimate me though."

"I shall endeavor not to, Whippersnapper. It is a pleasure." I wait for him to say more, but the young vigilante simply turns back to watch the road.

"Sooo," Highway says. "The three of us have been a team for a couple months. You already know Fritillary: flight, can cause a temporary trance like state when she flutters her wings, and has those irritating scales that make your eyes water and skin itch like hell. Dispower is she has giant fucking butterfly wings on her back, and they're pretty damn fragile. They do regenerate, but over the course of like two weeks. Oh, and she has to drink nectar through a long ass tongue."

"I do not, jerk!" Fritillary playfully kicks the back of the driver's seat, making Highway chuckle.

"Whippersnapper over there can send out long fleshy whiplike tendrils from his arms, and is also incredibly annoying. You get used to it. Dispower is that said tendrils actually take up physical space in his arms, so there's not a lot of room for other muscles. Don't ask him to lift anything heavier than a textbook with his hands."

"As for me, I'm Highway, obviously. My thing is vehicles. Bikes, cars, planes, unicycles, horses, whatever. I'm the best driver, simply put. Dispower is my spine is all kinds of supernaturally fucked up. It's painful to walk for more than a few minutes, let alone running. Thing is, it doesn't flare up when I'm controlling something."

severe back pain dispower, milk + ant + baking soda + ABS plastic

I keep a mental note of that for later. "Truly intriguing powers, all. For those unaware, I can create formidable elixirs of many kinds, from harnessing the frozen winter to bestowing the gift of life upon those who are slipping from this mortal coil. I believe I am here primarily for the second variety of potion."

"Yup. We're all fairly squishy, so a medic who can help us get back in the fight is appreciated," Highway affirms.

"May I ask why we are concerning ourselves with petty gang squabbling?"

"I'm not naive, don't worry," Highway says. "I know how Dudek works. This is a very specific gang that has gotten a few new capes recently. Normal gang shit doesn't bother me, but capes in a gang is a recipe for a full on villain team."

I nod, folding my arms. He has a point. Shutting that down early would be for the best.

"We don't know a lot, unfortunately. We know they have exactly three. One can induce really bad nausea, one can turn into an alligator, or just use features of an alligator, like growing a tail to hit you with mid fight. Third one, no idea. Plan is simple. Fritillary takes the lead, doing her stun thing, I drive in there and hopefully hit someone, Whipper jumps out and tries to apprehend the capes. Some will be inside, some will be outside. And don't worry, I won't kill anyone. Like I said, best driver. I can determine exactly how hard I'm going to hit someone, and the exact injuries they'll get."

I turn to look out the window, accidentally tapping my beak against the glass. There is no way for me to make that look intentional, so I laugh to myself at the silly slip-up. Fritillary is kind enough to join.

The van comes to a stop. "Okay, Fritillary, Beaker, you're up."

I turn my beaked mask to Highway. "Perhaps you misspoke?"

"Nope. I just realized you also can assist at a range. Rogue Wave mentioned you can do a sleeping gas that lasts for like twenty minutes."

I'm not inherently averse to the front lines; I am a solo vigilante, after all. I hesitantly try to picture the scenario, and there's very few concrete facts. Am I expected to wing it?

Still, I follow Fritillary out of the car. She's fairly tall, maybe 5' 10", taller than I am even with the mask and hat.

"So... I'm supposed to daze them, then zip tie all the normals. I guess you help? I'm sorry, Highway usually has better plans."

He better, or his team is screwed. "Nonsense, I was a final hour addition to the roster, finding me a position to play is nigh-impossible. I shall simply duplicate your role, so we may assist the others faster."

Fritillary tersely smiles, looking over the scene. "Thanks. Okay, we need a way to get close. I have a button I'm going to press once they are incapacitated."

I only have one of the sleeping vials. For some reason, my power doesn't let me double up what elixirs I make other than extremely general healing ones. The sleeping gas is by far my most used weapon, though, so maybe letting Fritillary handle the stun is worth it so I can hold onto it for later.

"Allow me. I am exceedingly skilled with drawing attention." I hope they don't shoot on sight.

Creeping forward a bit farther, the two of us find their target. An old video rental store, boarded up and covered in gang tags. A half dozen people sit in the lot next to it. Now or never.

After relocating to the other side of the block so I don't have to go in front of the video store, I start walking down the sidewalk, casually stepping in tune with my cane. I actually get fairly close to the abandoned lot before someone notices me.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" the lookout asks, steadily approaching me. "Is this halloween, or are you a cape?"

I twirl the cane around in my hand, whispering "Speaker volume one point five." Not so loud to appear threatening, not too quiet that the others won't hear me. My voice modulator is intended to be slightly intimidating, but with the right word choice, it can come across as amiable.

"Ahh yes, according to common parlance, I would indeed be a cape! It is a true honor to meet you, sir." I do a deep bow, one arm held across my stomach, the other widely extended. "I am none other than Beaker, physician and creator of intoxicants."

Two of the others move away from the lot to observe the show.

"The fuck do you mean 'intoxicants'?" the lookout asks. "Dealing on our turf?"

"Heavens, no! You misunderstand my intentions, good fellow. I seek to be your supplier, not merely a common street peddler. Would anyone like to sample my wares?"

The remaining three men finally start coming over. One of them is looking at me intensely, and I start to feel an intense nausea, the urge to puke staggering my speech.

"Lay off, Al."

The nausea starts to fade, as I choke back the vomit. It would be a complete disaster for it to happen inside my confined suit: the stomach acid likely would start eating at my skin, with no way to expel it from the sealed suit. I'll need to load one of the injection pods with an anti-nausea medication next time.

"Ahh... where was I... yes, intoxicants!" I open half of my coat, intentionally revealing an assortment of surgery equipment from scalpels to forceps, and withdraws some of the crux I had taken from that dealer. Not what I wanted to use it for, but... "Free samples, courtesy of me."

None of them move to take it. The lookout scoffs. "We don't burn supply. Good try, respect the game, though. What are you charging?"

Where the hell is Fritillary? Was I set up, intended to go sit in the belly of the beast? With a hidden grimace, I slip the drugs back into my coat. "A pittance, truly. The nature of my superhuman power makes creation of such chemical compounds routine. Should you require another vice, I can provide it as well, though you will have to produce the packaging."

"What's the deal with the scalpel and shit?" the one called 'Al' asks. He's a wiry kid, blonde with a sleeveless T and cargo shorts.

"As I have stated, I am a physician first and foremost. I can provide alleviation from even the most damning diseases, from the plague to scurvy to food poisoning to heart disease. Of course, this includes gunshot and stab wounds, shattered teeth, burns, anything you may encounter in your dirty dealings." I twirl my cane, tapping it on the ground a few times nervously. Even without the nausea effect, I'm on the verge of throwing up from the stress alone. I'm just like my mother, I suppose. I don't like not knowing things.

Al checks an honest-to-god pager, and his frown grows deeper. "Okay, Beaker, boss wants to see you."

"Indeed?" I take up my cane, being directed to the video store. "Then please, lead on."

I'm quickly surrounded by the six members from outside. It's by far the most efficient gang I've ever seen, as I'm led the few yards into the video store.

The disused outside almost feels like a betrayal. The inside is well-lit, with a fully stocked bar where the cashier used to be, a half dozen tables and chairs, a pool table being used by a few people... They even replaced the typical ugly 90s carpet with a rather luxurious looking verdant green, giving the appearance of a cut lawn as we walk.

The first thing that's evident is there's no racial component. Unlike the skinheads, it isn't based along skin color at all, though every single member has a green bandana somewhere on their person.

The second thing that's evident is that there are at least thirty people in here, including one in a three piece suit sitting on what looks like a throne in a raised section near the back, who I'm guided over to.

The third, fourth, and fifth things are the bound, gagged, and blindfolded Highway, Fritillary, and Whippersnapper awaiting judgement.

Don't panic. Those are the only words in my head right now. Calm hands save lives. Treat this like surgery.

The man on the chair is muscular and stoic, with cornrows tight against his head. He wears, naturally, a green dress shirt beneath his black suit.

When I'm presented before the imposing man, I decide to wait for him to speak first. When he does not, I introduce myself.

"Good tidings, future friend. I am the physician and chemist Beaker, at your disposal." I bow less dramatically than before.

"Yeah. You are. I'm Kingfisher. Before you ask, yes, I do have a power of my own. I won't tell you what it is, but I will say that I know you're working with these three intruders today." His cold eyes yield nothing.

Is he bluffing? No, there's no way in hell. I was talking outside for maybe two minutes, and those three were already caught. "Alas, my ruse has been discovered. I commend you, Sir Kingfisher, on your ability to root us out."

Kingfisher motions over someone standing at his side, then whispers something to him. With a nod, the other man walks away into the back room. "Mhmm. You understand you're going to die."

I've been in worse situations before, and I have a backup plan. "So it would seem. Yet, I live, as do my three fellows. You do not appear the type to seize a vain victory lap."

"I'm not. I've heard about you, and I have a pretty good idea who you are. See, I've heard rumors of some kind of miracle doctor working in civilian life. I believe it, too, because why would my friend lie? And then, there's also a cape running around with a... similar approach, lets call it. Here's how this shakes out. I have four lives I can end in an instant. I'm a greedy person, I suppose, so I'd like you to treat two of my people for each one I spare. In fact, I have two on this very premises. If you'd like, you can go and heal them, and then you're free. No strings attached. I will kill these other three, though." He nods at the other man to his side, who dramatically pumps a shotgun, expelling an unused shell.

No strings attached. He only said that in regards to letting the other three die. Realistically, they aren't my friends. Fritillary is an acquaintance who gave helpful advice, Highway got me into this mess, and Whippersnapper annoys me.

Eight people, too. Coordinating that alone would be a headache, especially since Kingfisher didn't specify where it would happen. Am I really going to put myself on the line like that?

"I appreciate your generous offer, Sir Kingfisher. I..." I trail off, watching the man Kingfisher sent to the back room start handing out gas masks.

The smallest flicker of a smile appears on Kingfisher's face.

Damn it. I can't make this kind of commitment with Emily's backing, right? Or is this just rescuing people?

"Crafty, shrewd, and merciful," I say. "I have no qualms with attending to your people. Eight of them, to be precise."

The smile drops from his face. "A shame. I expected you to cut your losses. I was never planning on letting them leave alive. I'm not going to debase myself in front of my people, though. Felipe, cut the idiots loose, but first... You ever see that movie where they carve a swastika into a guy's forehead? Maybe we could do that. And if it ever mysteriously disappears, we would know who did it. All my promises remain true."

"You are certainly a rotten fuck, are you not?" I say, unthinkingly.

Kingfisher stays silent for a moment, trying to think of an ideal response, until I continue, my mouth on autopilot.

"Tell me, sir, are you truly the type to act in such a petty manner over an embarrassing attempt such as this? Perhaps a court jester would give you entertainment, if that is what you seek. I have nothing against torture in and of itself, but understand my position. I am a physician, sir. I heal, as it is my solemn duty. To deny me that is to deny me said purpose, to which point I would simply prefer death. I would hate to break my word so soon after being in your presence, Sir Kingfisher."

Kingfisher gives a long, exaggerated sigh. "Ten people, and I'll skip the part where I injure them in any way. If you ever speak so far beyond your station again, though, I will personally make every last person you know suffer."

I can't believe I haven't pissed myself, honestly. Kingfisher genuinely scares the hell out of me. There's a quiet menace within the posturing, as though his real threat was hiding within the words themselves. "As I wholly expected, you are magnanimous in your judgement. I thank you for this kind offer, and humbly accept, provided there are no other hanging chads such as harming their families, destroying their property, and so on."

He nods, and the three are immediately cut free. They all bolt for the door, with only Fritillary giving so much as a glance back.

"Welcome to our little club, Beaker. You're just the touch of character we needed here."

lymphoma stage 1, water + titanium nitrate + dandelion seeds

"Indeed. I suspect this is the start of great things."