Ch. 14: Cavalcade

I stand outside, looking up at the sun through the tinted, beaked visor. I needed to get out more, and after a brief discussion with Kingfisher, I was directed to a small public park nearby. It irks me to no end that Kingfisher is my most trusted source of information. 'I always keep an ear out,' he joked when I talked to him last.

It's been a week and a half since the Zola incident. Allegations around my actual gender were a hot topic of debate for about 48 hours. Eventually, a public consensus formed that it didn't actually matter. Still, I made it a point to admit that I was a woman whenever I was asked. It's not something that could realistically narrow down my identity either way. The modulator was adjusted in turn, being noticeably less deep and sinister, with a more androgynous pitch while retaining a slight hiss to make it clear I was still the same person. I could always switch it back at will, like always. Emily had designed a system where intentionally closing one eye at a time in a pattern would change the voice settings, and after five minutes of being unmodulated, would default back to the androgynous hissing one. She knows me too well, and spent a solid five hours on it.

I take off the beaked mask, if only for a brief moment, to see the clouds be as white as they are. With a full ten hour's effort, Emily had figured out a way to create a material dark enough to hide my face that I could still see perfectly clearly through. To make it even better, it could turn clear with a voice command, and the rest of the suit would only turn white when the visor was clear too.

My environmental suit was given a bit of an upgrade, too. The entire thing now has a thin layer of antiseptic and foam that, when damaged, spreads out and seals hard, dousing the area exposed with the alcohol at the same time. The potion I made with that specific property was a bitch and a half to narrowly confine into the suit, but it worked. It worked damn well, too. I even took it for a test run in a sterile environment, and thankfully my power decided that it technically counted as me administering it if I'm the one in the suit. That took Emily six hours straight to modify my suit for the set up, but now I could theoretically survive not just one, but two punctures before it would need a refill. It's taking a bit of practice to get used to the ever so slightly thicker material, mainly on my hands, but I've made that adjustment plenty of times.

The rest of Emily's time has been spent creating a a small cleaning drone. Nothing fancy, basically just a tall roomba with a very strong vacuum and detergent to clean up blood. Probably the greatest birthday present I'd ever gotten, now that I think about it.

Emily offered to adjust my mask to synthesize the smell of grass, trees, and so on, but I turned it down. I didn't want a fake version of normality. The lack of smell is a reminder, of a sort, that I'm still wearing a mask.

I turn to Catalyst and Solvent. Finally, the costumes we'd designed weeks ago came in. Catalyst's was more or less the same, only noticeably more professional looking. The surgical mask now had a durable scrub cap to go with it, leaving only his eyes and the top of his nose exposed. Scrubs with a little extra padding and the most comfortable shoes he's ever worn, according to him, completed the outfit.

Solvent's was fairly different. In fact, it was modeled slightly on the Nightjar's soldier armor. It was a lot less bulky, though, trading the defenses for flexibility. It had a low-power exosuit built into it as well, increasing her functional strength by around 30%. Nothing too extreme, but certainly enough to keep up with anyone unarmed. She kept the gas mask, but Emily retrofitted it. Now it actually works, and isn't just for show. It was a rather important addition, since it left me able to deploy pretty much any of my gases with her in the vicinity.

I put my own mask back on, the long beak always in the lower part of my vision. It took me a long time when I first started to stop focusing on it and going cross-eyed. Now, it's second nature.

I wave at a mother and daughter going for a morning walk. They both wave back at me. I've become something of a cryptid to a lot of citizens in Dudek, a local legend as the miracle healer who lives in a deep cavern beneath the earth and asks for strange tokens in return for her power. In fairness, it isn't far off.

I check the time on my phone. Damn, break's over. I have to regrow what's-her-name's other leg before Barkbite has an aneurysm. He went from hands and knees in appreciation to "hurry up you creepy bitch" astoundingly quickly.

Catalyst heads back to the clinic. He's actually become fairly competent with basic first aid in his free time, taking over in emergencies while I'm out. Anything he can't handle, I can advise on over the phone. He's turned to diamond under pressure. He makes my job so much easier, which I am keen to remind him of.

I have a bit of a walk before me, but I'm not concerned. This far from skinhead territory, so there's scarce few who have any reason to be more than mildly annoyed by me.

I stop for a selfie with a teenager, who insists that all his friends are going to be jealous that he got to take a picture with a notorious villain.

"Why do you let people do that?" Solvent asks.

"Do what, strike a pose for photography? I am merely human, I enjoy fame and infamy both."

"I meant let people call you a villain."

"Do you think we are not?"

"I do not know. But it feels weird. I do not feel like a villain."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. I heal more villains than heroes, to be certain, and whether that is heroic or not depends on the perspective."

I knock on the door to a ridiculously nice house. Not expensive or large, just picturesque, like it comes from a stock image or a computer wallpaper. Barkbite opens the door for us. "About time..."

"Lay off, she's here, isn't she?" Cavalcade says, eating lunch at the table, with far more food than it looks like she could eat. In hindsight, I should have taken a photo of what she looked like before I started healing her, given her state now.

"Yeah... yeah. Sorry." Barkbite looks away, holding the door for us to enter. He was favoring a leg. Maybe he bumped it against something? He did have that pain sensitivity dispower...

"No apologies needed, my fellow. Should my own sibling be waiting for a healer, I too would be less than eternally patient. Blame your waterborne friend for bringing me a partial fin from a fish that wasn't a shark."

"Oh, I do, and I'm going to give him a plenty long lecture. I'll leave you to it."

Cavalcade turns her wheelchair around. "Sooo, same as always?"

"Indeed, Madame Cavalcade. A pity this may be the last we meet, for this shall be my final visitation. Leg, and a poorly healed bone fracture. Then, you are once again whole."

She nods, taking a shaky breath teeming with nervous and excited energy. "Okay. Knock me out."

I do as requested, sending her to sleep with the fumes of a sleep gas, and inject her with two different syringes.

"As with last time, Sir Barkbite, this process is fairly gruesome. I would advise against watching."

He doesn't hesitate to look away. I admittedly do too, as I listen to squelching muscles and marrow fight against the sound of stretching bone and skin growth sounding like a fleshy rainstick. I have a lot of experience seeing gore, but animated gore is a different story.

I don't turn around until I'm sure it's done. Her new leg is pale and slightly pinkish, but that's probably normal. Her other leg and part of her left hand had a similar color, but are slowly evening out. They do look and feel noticeably softer than the rest of her skin, but I doubt she'll complain as I wake her up with a few polite taps on the cheek. She groggily stretches her legs, and looks down at them. "Holy hell, this is still crazy... So... how long before I can walk on them?"

"Exactly one second from now."

She laughs, standing up, trying to find her balance again. It doesn't take her long, as she walks back and forth, trying desperately to keep her composure.

"Apologies for spoiling the moment, but I demand my payment," I say, hoping my smugness is translated well across the voice filter.

"You're the best doctor in Dudek. In the world. I still can't believe this. It's like a dream, and I'm going to wake up at any second and be back in the hospital... Beaker, thank you. Truly."

"Attempt more cautious footsteps while skulking around the Nightjars, or better, entirely avoid them. I cannot cure death, you should be told."

"Yeah... I learned my lesson." She hesitates for a moment, looking out the window. "This is selfish, but I'd really like to thank you face to face. Person to person, you know?"

I mull it over. There's no way Cavalcade would do anything, right? Can I take that risk?

I glance at Solvent, who gives a faint nod. I guess I'm going to find out.

"Solvent, if you will ensure no prying eyes meet mine..." She immediately stands directly in front of Barkbite.

I click off the mask, and fade away the darkness of the visor below, leaving my very human face behind. I awkwardly smile at her as she looks at me in confusion, trying to piece together the situation.

Seeing an actual hero without the shield of my persona and without the beak in front of my eyes is terrifying, and somehow, I'm a bit starstruck. Cavalcade isn't an A-lister, but I've heard of her, and she's looking at me. Not at Beaker.

I rub my arm as I look away. "Hell of a dispower, huh? Don't tell your brother. Also, I really don't do this often, and it's awkward for me, so..."

"What's your name?" she asks with intense eyes.

I bite my lip. Screw it, may as well fill in her brother too so they don't make it a whole thing. "Solvent, at ease." She immediately back away, as I lean against the doorframe in the kitchen. I turn my head to Barkbite for a moment, before back to Cavalcade. "Dr. Vivian Amsel. Yes, I'm an actually licensed medical doctor. The suit is because I don't have an immune system. Like I said, hell of a dispower."

"Son of a bitch..." Barkbite says, looking at me a bit too closely. "You're that doctor from Dudek."

"How do you know that?" I ask, more than a little surprised. Barkbite's usual haunt is pretty far from where I worked, and he never struck me as the most observant guy.

"I'm a hero, I'm taking people to hospitals every week. I've seen you there before, with the suit with the stripe. Always wondered what your deal was."

I shrug, no point lying now. "Got fired because apparently crux and dog blood aren't FDA approved. You'll keep this a secret, obviously."

"Obviously."

Cavalcade is trying to ready herself for the best thank you she can manage, until she catches me watching her mouthing the words she's apparently been practicing. With a light blush, she clears her throat.

"Okay. Doctor Vivian Amsel, thank you." She takes my hand in both of hers, shaking it. "Thank you so much. Really, you saved my life, and then brought it back to normal. I can't even begin to express my gratitude, you truly are a miracle. If there's anything you ever need me or Barkbite for, please, just let us know. Thank you. So much." She gives up the handshake, and very gently hugs me while sniffling back tears.

"You're both the hugging type, huh? Solvent, if Barkbite tries to do it again, suplex him for me."

She nods, cracking her knuckles, making all four of us share a laugh together.

"Well. Beak to the grindstone, I'm sure some dumbass got their dick caught in a meat grinder or something like that while I've been here. By the way..." I put the mask back on, the distorted black and grays reappearing instantly on my suit

It's so much easier to talk with the mask on, even if they know who's beneath. "Would either of you fine folk be willing to bequeath me some blood? Healthy enhanced human blood is a frequent reagent."

Both of the siblings offer their arm veins to me immediately. Two heroes, who know who I am, literally holding their arms out to give me their blood. It's... nonsensical, like something out of a weird dream. Still, I take a vial from each, thanking them both as I leave.

There's a few growing clouds above us. Probably going to rain tonight. I might stand outside in it, if I have time. Rain hitting my suit is a surprisingly nice sensation, like being under an umbrella that clings to your body.

I was so distracted by the clouds and my own thoughts that I didn't notice the dot on my HUD approaching from behind until it was already more than halfway to me. I turn around, frantically trying to slip my hand into the folds of the coat while a large man was rushing me down with something shiny in his hands. Solvent had already started sprinting to intercept him. Emily had given her a version of my HUD in her own mask, which she adapted to incredibly quickly. I watch as Solvent abuses her momentum, tripping the guy charging me, and following it up by slamming her foot onto his neck.

He chokes out something, as I get a closer look at the metallic object he was holding, now rolling away from his hand. Some kind of squat cylinder with red lettering. A god damn can of diet soda.

"Solvent, release him." She lifts up her foot from his neck, but still stands between him and me, as he looks up from the ground with a broken nose and a missing tooth, blood pouring from both his mouth and nose.

I crouch down, finding his missing tooth a few feet away, and rinse it off in a vial of water I had. As the man moans in pain, holding his face, I try to find a way to reach his face. "Do you wish for relief? If so, cease impeding my access to the injury, foolish man."

He moves his hands away, the blood bright against his fair skin. I take the tooth, awkwardly push in its socket, and pour a healing elixir into his mouth. Soon enough, his gums tightly close around the tooth, pulling it firmly into place, as his nose unbreaks with an almost identical cracking sound to the one it made when he hit the pavement.

I help him up, still watching his motions to see if he tries anything. There's nothing suspiciously metal on him, according to the small handheld metal detector Solvent starts running over him as he stands.

"God... that really hurt. I thought you were a doctor," he says absently poking at the bridge of his nose.

"Indeed, though with the mantra of 'Do Some Harm'. I can think of no better option to an unidentified vagrant galloping towards my back. Solvent's judgement and swift reaction were done with aplomb. She is quite something, hmm?"

"Yeah... I just wanted to know where you work. I have this thing."

urinary tract infection,

"A mild UTI is unalarming."

He grits his teeth, looking around to see if anyone heard that. "No, not that. It's my buddy. Got hit in the crossfire between a couple Supragenus guys and whatever gang they were skirmishing with."

Supragenus. Carson Porter's gang. "Remove your shirt."

"What?"

"It is of grave consequence."

He suspiciously eyes me for a second, lifting up his shirt. Of course, a specific tattoo on his chest. Crossfire my ass, he was probably one of the ones shooting.

I dramatically hold my hands in front of my face, reeling back in exaggerated horror. "I have betrayed my oath, healed one meant to be unhealed. Solvent, undo my work."

She laughs a little under her mask. It's pretty far from intimidating, basically just a puffs of air escaping her mouth with a light "heh" on each. She sweeps his leg from under him again, and once again, stepping on his neck. I hear the same nose crunching sound for the third time, though regrettably, his tooth stays in place.

I leave him on the ground, once again moaning in pain, and leave with Solvent. An older couple watching the display turn their heads when I look in their direction, but still, they were watching.

That might have been a little beyond 'not helping' and verging into 'actively harming' territory. Despite the phrase plastered in my clinic, it's actually one of the first times I've harmed someone solely for the purpose of hurting them. I don't feel bad for the decision since it was his stupidity that caused it in the first place, and especially because I've become increasingly more convinced the unwitting suicide bomber was either done by the Untainted, Supragenus, or a third group irritatingly called Torch-holders. I only know of one other gang who has experience in explosives, though, so there may have been collaboration there...

It's a bit of a puzzle, no one side quite fitting. I make my way back to the clinic, still not quite sure what to do with the cane I'm holding, alternating between carrying it in one hand, and performatively using it to punctuate my walking.