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Psychology is important in keeping those you want under your control. Case in point the DOCA took my unconscious body from prison to illustrate their wealth, they healed my body to prove that they were kind, but I wager that they also implanted a tracker into my body, maybe even implanted a device to shut down my nervous system should I do something that they disagree with. It’s a subtle show of power, if an expected one and that’s where they failed. I expected all of this, and I’m neither afraid nor impressed by their games. The only thing I’m overly grateful for is the change of clothes and the chance to go to the gym without being attacked by inmates.
Walking over to a rowing machine I catch a glimpse of my reflection, but I don’t recognise the woman standing back at me. Sure the scaring and well-built body are familiar, but my face looks tired and stressed, almost if the serpent of worry is gnawing at the roots of my cerebral cortex. Terra never really crossed my mind in prison, now she’s all I can think of. As I start what I hope will be an intensive workout I notice a few of the off duty agents shoot glances at me, and I doubt it’s because I’m wearing a leotard with the old CBTF logo on the back and little else. An hour in and the gym is deserted and I have time not only to think but work the punching bag.
“Clear out agent, we have the floor.” A voice snorts from the doorway, one that reeks of the familiar arrogance I heard all the time when I started out as Peacekeeper, not just from the other heroes of Indigo City, but also from myself. Ignoring it I continue to work on the bag as I hear four people approach behind me.
“Are you deaf?” A female voice asks as I feel a heavy hand rest on my shoulder before being spun round to see my inquisitors. Their carriers, and they all have the same smug superior look on their faces. “Dreadnaught said it was time to leave, you norms can’t handle our training regime.” The female, a dark skinned woman with sylvan ears and long elegant horns sprouting from her head hisses.
“I don’t like your tone.” I reply as I shake the hand off of me and go to face the bag and continue my workout. With a snort I’m spun around before being pushed down to the floor.
“Like you never utter racist things about us!” One of the agents, a man with long blonde braided hair and beard dressed in buckskin trousers grunts, his hands releasing wisps of cold mist. “Well guess what, we’re the Response and that means that we’re superior to you.”
“I doubt that.” I reply coldly as I handspring to my feet, just as a giant of a man swings at me, his attack going wide as I dodge round his punch. “As for being members of the Response, I doubt that too. Not with that attitude.”
“Who are you to say we’re not!” Saxon grunts.
“I’m Cassie Williams, maybe you’ve heard of me. If you haven’t that’s fine, you would have heard of some of my friends like Windduster and Freight Train.” I reply, only for the ‘Repsonse’ to break into cruel and mocking laughter, save for the woman with the horns.
“Nice try but Cassie Williams is dead!” The formally silent woman with a rapier strapped to her belt snickers. “Not like that’s would be an accolade if you were, everyone knows that Peacekeeper fought the wimps out in the street. At least pick a better person to rip off next time you talk bulls**t to people.”
“There won’t be a next time, I can waste this poser in four moves.” Saxon grunts as he cracks his knuckles together. “How about it ‘Not Peacekeeper’, you vs me, winner get the gym.”
“Sounds fair.” I reply, a smile spreading across my face as I slip into a defensive stance just as Saxon comes swinging at me, his fist slamming into my guard and leaving a stinging welt on my wrist. Following up with a punch aimed at my face I raise my guard to block the blow, before swinging my elbows upward into his jaw. Pushing back I get a little distance between us, only to realise the mistake I had just made.
“Freeze b***h!!” Saxon bellows as he fires a beam of super-cooled air at me, ice crystals biting at my face. Rubbing my eyes, my opponent takes advantage and charges in, shoulder slamming me to the floor.
“You’ve been trained well.” I state, as I reach out and grab a 5kg weight before getting to my feet. “You’re using your powers as a crutch not relying on them.”
“The ‘Gunny’ instils that lesson in us every training session.” The woman with horns states as Saxon throws a punch at me, only for me to block it with the weight in my hand before delivering a weighted uppercut to his face as he recoils in surprise. Not wanting to waste the opening I drop into a handstand and wrap my legs around his throat before delivering more weighted punches into his groin. Groaning Saxon falls forward pinning me under his weight until I push him off me.
“Ten bucks says Saxon doesn’t get up.” The woman with the sword whispers, as I get to my feet. Those words burn into my brain, these four are meant to be the Response yet they seem to care little about teamwork. Either they’re new to this team business or they’ve become so complacent that they think themselves unbeatable.
“Hey Saxon right.” I state as I offer him a hand up. “When did you start being a hero?”
“Ugh a few years back.” Saxon wheezes. “We all have although Gemsbok’s been fighting a little longer than the rest of us.” He adds, as we both drop into defensive stances.
“Interesting.” I reply, as I sweep low with my foot, only for him to dodge the blow and then slam his foot down on my knee. “Also interesting.” I reply as I use my arms to twist my body, the rotation causing Saxon to stagger just enough to release my leg. As he recovers I lash out with a kick designed to send an opponent toppling backwards.
“Wait that’s the moves the Master Sargent taught us!” The woman with the horns, Gemsbok, gasps. “Saxon stop I think she’s the real thing.”
“She fights like it.” Saxon replies. “You willing to call it even?” He gasps as we both get back to our feet. The competitive part of me says no, but I’ve made my point about arrogance.
“Seems fair.” I answer, as we shake hands.
“You got lucky Saxon.” A Texan voice announces from behind the other members of the Response. “My little sister isn’t usually in such a forgiving mood.” He added, as a man dressed like a cowboy muscles his way to the front, his mischievous blue eyes and short blonde hair mirror images of my own. “Ain’t that right Cass?”
“You’d know Clay.” I reply playfully as I walked over and give him a big hug. “I’ve missed you something fierce.”
“Not as much as I missed you hoss.” Clay replies. “Today’s training is to review the footage taken of this training bout and write up what Otis did wrong. I expect at least a thousand words, well except for you Odette,” He stated, his words causing the woman with the sabre to give the others a smug look, “I want two thousand for you for betting against your team mates. You’re dismissed.” He added, his sharp tone darting through his trainees.
“So Stallion still has balls.” I joke, as I take a towel off one of the ballet barres on the side of the gym and dab the sweat off my face.
“Well you know that old saying about the Williams kids.” Clay states with a smile. “After your arrest I started going out as the new Peacekeeper but in the end the threats all vanished, nobody was really bothered with fighting over territory after the city was destroyed again. Once the CBTF became the DOCA they wanted a new Response, but needed someone who understood military training and what being a Carrier meant, I had some experience in both so they chose me.” He added, as he leads me out of the room to a room at the end of the hallway.
“So Terra is back.” I state quietly as Clay types in a code to open the door.
“I doubt it, I was there when she was cremated.” Clay replies, and the look on his face seems to enforce that belief. “Still someone was using her image that’s possible.” He added, as the door opened and the lights popped on to reveal a set of old CBTF armour painted matte black with a set of equipment loaded on the table in front of it. Picking up my tonfas and the omamori that’s usually connected to the handle of one of them. “She’s as beautiful as ever, but I can’t wear this. I don’t deserve to wear this.”
“You need to wear something, unless you’re going to go out as Gymnasium Girl.” Clay remarks.
“You think girls would be attracted to a woman in a leotard?” I ask innocently. “Don’t answer that, there has to be something else.” I ask as I look around the space to see another suit of armour standing in the corner. While it had been a former CBTF guard suit, the modifications made to it were far in excess to the minor cosmetic changes I had mine. The whole helmet had been reworked to look intimidating, almost skull like. The body had been cut down in the thickest parts, obviously as an attempt to make the armour more flexible. Five years ago this suit wouldn’t have suited me, my fighting style was undisciplined and relied on tanking blows, but now the flexibility it provided was just what I needed.
“That’s Gravedigger’s uniform. I assume you remember hearing about her.” Clay states coldly. I do remember, Gravedigger was a villain from the Blight Wars who fought against the CBTF and their Carrier allies in the misguided belief that Blights were equals to humanity. In the end that belief got her killed when her ‘allies’ overrun her and ripped her to shreds during a pretty formidable attack near the tail end of the conflict.
“It’s poetic in a way, Peacekeeper died and now I can dig her grave and move on.” I reply, as I put my tonfas down and pick up the spade like spear that the armour’s former owner had once used in battle. “Not only that but if Terra has escaped from her tomb then it’s only right I should put her back in it.” I add, as I remove the helmet and inspect the inside. “It needs some upgrades of course, auto tint and night vision would be useful, but they can wait.”
“You want to test it out?” Clay states with a smile.
“If that’s okay.” I add cutely, as I put the helmet down and run my hand along the arm of my armour.
“Well the Response and I were going to arrest a group of renegade Carriers that work for the local crime boss, I’m sure that they wouldn’t mind a little extra help.” He announces, as I slot the helmet over my head.
“It doesn’t matter if they do.” I reply, the voice filter in my new helmet making my speech sound ethereal. “I’m not here to make friends, I’m just here to but that bitch back in her grave.”
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