February is possibly the most socially awkward month on the social calendar. This is difficult to quantify, of course, given variables such as having a birthday near or on Christmas (or any other gift giving holiday depending on religious observance), discovering that the only clean clothes in one’s closet are white after Labor Day, and the first month or so of anything that can be described as a ‘freshman’ year.

In any event, when it comes to socially awkward months, February is certainly in the top twelve. It all stems from a certain day consecrated to a martyr who died for loving his God but which is oddly now dedicated to the romance between a man and a woman, a woman and a woman, a man and a man, a small group’s love for itself, and most of all, the vast majority of people’s love for chocolate.

Conveniently, this holiday falls in the exact center of the month (foreshortened, it seems out of some sense mercy from the Romans). This allows for the first half to be neatly set aside for couples to worry about what they intend to do for each other, romantics to worry about having a companion at least for that day, and for cynics to grouse and snark at the entire concept. The second half affords time for the mind, wallet and occasionally body to recover from the previous fourteen day whirlwind of devotions, emotions and chocolate binges.

It should come as no surprise that combining this month with high school, colloquially the most awkward time in any person’s life, results in an even more awe inspiring vortex of angst, stupidity and above all, excess. The best love stories are never simple, but some people make it harder on themselves than others…

“Uh, hi.” Warrick was trying to look casual, leaning his shoulder against the bookcase beside him. He was in the stacks of the school library after hours, waiting on the rest of his physics class project group to arrive. “So… the Valentine’s dance is Thursday and I was thinking maybe…”

The girl he was talking to was taller than him with a mane of strawberry blonde hair. She was part of the group that normally orbited around Lilly Goldenmeyer in the halls and at lunch; one of the ‘conserv’ girls that all dressed disturbingly alike. To say they traveled in different circles was to say that Earth’s Moon and Europa traveled in different circles. That fact really didn’t excuse her derisive snort as she looked him up and down like a predator watching a prey animal wander past when it was already sated.

“Don’t you know who I am?” she shoved the book she had been perusing back into the shelf, making its mates jump with the impact. She didn’t give him time to answer before rolling her eyes and stalking away.

“Ooh, swing and a miss, strike three.” JC said into his pencil in his best commentator voice. “This isn’t looking good for Warrick Kaine, Bob. He’s had five at bats this evening and he’s struck out each time. Seems the only time he gets anywhere, it’s because a pitcher’s throwing him a little chin music.”

Warrick punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Way to be supportive, wingman. It’s easy to be cocky when you’ve already got a date. Hell, you don’t even need to arrange a date because Snackrifice is playing the dance.”

“It’s not all paradise, man.” JC admitted. “We really only see each other on the weekend anymore. I mean the band practices most of the time after school…”

“Which you’re there for.” Warrick pointed out.

“Quality, not quantity, bro. I don’t consider it a date when five other people are there.” The two returned where they had left their books to find Juniper, the third of their four person project group, sitting there, looking like she was lost in a daydream. “Plus,” JC continued with a nod to Juniper, “Kay is always dragging her off for ‘girls’ night out’ on the weekends. Really, since they’re playing the dance, I’m not even going to get to dance with my girl on Valentine’s.”

Juniper blinked. “Dance? Oh. Can I ask you guys something?”

Both boys shrugged, realizing that she had just completely derailed JC’s rant. “Go ahead.” JC said, “I’m done anyway.”

“Done?” Juniper blinked again before coming back to herself. “I just wanted a guy’s opinion. Do you think its okay for a girl to ask a guy to a dance?”

“This is for Adel, right?” JC asked. Juniper nodded vigorously. “Yeah, I think that’s not only okay, but it’s your best bet. Mills doesn’t do things like talking or interacting with people. And I’ve heard that those are a key component of asking girls out.”

“You’ve got a point.” Juniper said, letting her hair fall into her face to hide her eyes. “He is kind of quiet and shy. Maybe he just can’t work up the nerve.”

JC smirked and clapped Warrick on the shoulder. “No such problems in our boy here though. He’s asked five girls out today alone.” He looked his friend up and down. “By the way, asking out one of Lily’s friends? Ballsy. Stupid, but ballsy. My question is ‘why?’”

“What do you mean?” Warrick asked, “Just because her friend is a bitch doesn’t mean she is.”

“Yes it does.” JC countered. “Their whole clique-shtick is based on them acting like one another. Therefore, if Lilly’s a bitch, by definition, Jean’s a bitch too.”

“That doesn’t seem fair…” Juniper started, but thought better of it.

“That Lilly made it to the top of the pecking order is the thing that isn’t right.” JC shrugged. “But that’s not my point. Why are you stretching so far, man? You live in a house with five, count them five hot women—“

“Thanks… I guess…” Juniper stammered.

“And taking into account that Juniper’s into Adel and Ms. Keyes is attached –“

“Wait, why the hell are you counting Ms. Keyes and Ms. Brant into this equation of possible dates for me? They’re like twenty-five apiece!”

JC shrugged, “Just by way of illustration… though you have to admit Ms. Brant is hot.”

“Twice my age!” Warrick managed to shout without shouting, being in the library after all.

“Fine, whatever. That still leaves Melissa and Cyn.”

“Have you met Melissa?” Juniper peeked out from behind her hair. “I mean she’s really nice deep down—I’m sure she is—but on top of that is a girl that wouldn’t be caught dead going to the dance with Warrick.” Her eyes grew wipe at her own faux pas. “Oops. I meant that she wouldn’t go to the dance. You know, with any guy. Even you, I mean… There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“And there goes the masculinity.” Warrick groaned. Juniper gave him an apologetic look, but he waved it off. “I know what you meant, Jun. Anyway, you’re right. Melissa wouldn’t be caught within line of sight of a dance.”

“So that leaves Cyn.” JC offered helpfully.

“Yeah, right. She’s my best friend, but the idea would be so stupid to her that she just wouldn’t stop laughing. Ever. The seas will dry up, the sun will go cold and there would be Cyn, still laughing at me being a feeb. No thank you. I’m sure some girl would be totally into going to the dance with me. I just have to find her.”

“Please tell me we’re actually going to work on our project today instead of shifting into over-angst over the stupid Valentine’s dance.” A new voice interrupted. They looked up to see their fourth in the project group, Christina Carlyle, better known around the school as ‘Tink’ both for her love of gadgetry as well as her ill fated role in a freshman year production of Peter Pan. She was taller than average with a few whispers of baby fat still on her frame. Copper colored hair grew wild on her head and had been unceremoniously sheared off just above her jaw line. A pair of wire frame glasses perched on her nose.

She switched on her tablet computer, something of a trademark accessory for her, and started flipping through files. “I’ve got a few designs I’ve been thinking up ever since I heard we’d be doing electromagnetism and I’d really rather talk about them than some stupid dance. There’s no point in worrying about not having a date. It’ll either happen or it won’t.”

“I take this to mean that it hasn’t.” JC said slyly “You getting asked, that is.” He elbowed Warrick.

“No.” Tina shrugged. “And?”

JC elbowed him again and Warrick yelped, which got Tina’s attention readily. “Ow… er, I mean how would you like to go with me then?” he managed not to glare at JC for what would certainly become a bruise in the morning.

Tina’s fingers stopped in their fluttering over the screen of her computer. She wore a thoughtful look for a while. “Sure, why not?”

Cyn sneezed and opened her locker. Someday, she vowed, she would find a way to shift away whatever mechanism caused sneezing. Of course, that would be easier if the school ever saw fit to place her in the biology class she requested again at the start of the semester.

Instead, she had landed in Earth Science, which was not only useless to her, but was taught by the man who was fast becoming her nemesis; Frank Bevilacqua, also known as Coach Bevilacqua.

“Coach” as he was called by nearly the entire school, had noticed the agility with which she had avoided the ‘accidental’ shoves Lilly Goldenmeyer and her friends tended to aim at her. Naturally, instead of putting a stop to the bullying, Coach had demanded she try out late for the gymnastics team. Great was her hatred for the man that subjected her to the very concept of uneven bars.

It was over now, however, and all she could do was nurse her grudge and hope that a carefully orchestrated case of klutziness would end Coach’s Olympic dreams by proxy for good. The bright side, if there was such a thing, was that she knew Juniper and Warrick were staying late for their physics project and that meant she wouldn’t be alone on the trip home. She could probably convince them to go on an impromptu patrol.

Taking heart in the possibility of working out her frustrations on someone probably far more deserving than Frank Bevilacqua, she closed her door. And immediately shrieked upon seeing someone standing right there.

He clearly wasn’t expecting such a reaction and nearly fell over himself backing away. “Whoa!” he shouted reflexively.

Cyn finally registered who she was glaring at; Jonas Griffin. During the fall, he was the star wide receiver on a lackluster team. During the spring, or so Cyn was lead to believe, he played third and had the best batting average on the baseball team. This, according to the rather mysterious and convoluted physics that make up the social hierarchy of high schools, made him one of the most popular people there.

And he was talking to Cyn, who according to Lilly was the bottom of the barrel. She proceeded with caution—giving him a look that demanded explanation.

“Sorry.” Jonas said a flush coming over his dark skin. “Sorry.” He repeated extraneously. He shifted his books to the other arm, starting to sweat under Cyn’s hot glare. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I thought… I mean I’m not exactly quiet walking down the hall…”

Feeling she was definitely missing something, Cyn let some of the intensity drain out of her gaze. “I was otherwise distracted.” She shrugged. “So why were you ‘not sneaking up on me’ in the first place?” She tried to make it sound as polite as possible.

Jonas looked to be caught in the headlights suddenly, which confused Cyn all the more. “Um… sneaking—yeah. The dance. I saw you come down this hall and I was going to ask… you know, about the dance.”

Occam’s Razor be damned, Cyn was sure that the simplest explanation to what Jonas was trying to get out certainly wasn’t the correct one. Jonas went to every school function with Lilly. It was a law, set in stone as surely as the laws of gravity. “What about it?” Cyn asked.

Taking a deep breath, Jonas calmed down a bit. “Well, I asked around and everyone said that the guy you usually go to stuff with isn’t your boyfriend…” he started, leaving room for her to add to the sentence.

Cyn shrugged. She usually ended up going with Warrick on the account that he never got a date due to the triple threat of Lilly’s social assassination, Elizabeth von Stoker’s drama, and his own crippling lack of confidence. Cyn’s own apathy when it came to most of the guys at school made up her part of the equation. Nothing ever came of those; usually, they would meet up with the rest of their social group and any semblance of a date would dissolve.

A hiccough formed in her throat. Why would she expect anything to come of those? Those outings were strictly platonic and she had made clear—in ways more subtle than her usual ‘frying pan in the face’ approach—that that was that. Assured of this position, she nodded. “Yeah, he’s not. So?” The glaringly obvious failed to penetrate the atmosphere of cynicism enveloping Planet Cyn.

“Since he’s not your boyfriend, I was thinking maybe you and I should go?” Jonas hadn’t meant that as a question, but it sure came out that way.

She chewed her lip for a second, and then held up a finger. “Oh, I see now. It’s one of those… ham party things.”

“Excuse me?” Jonas blinked.

“One of those things where you try to find the biggest loser to bring so your clique gets to laugh at them and the girl goes home crying and then she and her mom have ice cream and someone mentions that story about the swan being ugly and end the end she gets confident.” Cyn explained in a rush.

Jonas stood a moment in silence, and then was forced to admit defeat. “Excuse me?”

Cyn pressed her fingers to her temples. “You’re asking me out as part of some stupid plot by the Queen Bee…itch” She simplified.

“No I’m not.” Jonas said. “I know I used to go out with her, but she doesn’t really like me and lately, I don’t really like her much either. My dad said it’s a sign I’m maturing.” He shrugged. “He said that from now on, I should just go with who ever I feel like going with.”

“And that’d be me.” Cyn filled in the blank. When Jonas nodded, gears turned in her head. The most popular guy in school liked her. More importantly, he’d chosen her over Lilly. Popularity, especially by proxy meant nothing to her. Pissing off Lilly however was a delicious treat that made her mouth water. “Okay. But I’m going to be honest; I’m only giving you a chance because you think Lilly’s a bitch and this will tweak her good.”

Jonas shrugged. “That’s fine. I didn’t expect you to say yes. And if I went with Lilly, she’d only be going with me because I’m a jock. The way I see it, at least you care what I think.”

Cyn smiled. He wasn’t really a bad guy, she decided. Still, she wondered why she had a sinking feeling about this.

“Hello, Imperial Dragon Restaurant?” Ian asked into the phone. “Yes, I’d like to make a…” He set his jaw. “What do you mean I’m already too late? You haven’t heard what I—well, yeah, I was trying to make reservations. No? Oh come on! You’re the tenth place I’ve called today! How can all of you be completely booked for Valentine’s Day?!” He rapped his knuckles against his forehead. “Yeah, okay, thanks. Bye.” He snapped the phone closed.

For a moment, he glared at it. In old movies, he’d seen people using old landline models that they would slam back into their cradles after infuriating conversations. He supposed her could just slam his cell phone down on the table, but that’d probably dash it to pieces. Sometimes progress wasn’t.

Growling his frustration, he tapped the screen of the phone directory in front of him until the next page of restaurant listings appeared. “’J’ he declared. Lucky letter ‘J’.”

“Are you seriously calling every restaurant in Mayfield in alphabetical order looking for reservations?” Laurel asked, coming up the stairs into the upstairs commons.

“Just the ones that are… you know sit down places.” Ian said, flipping his phone open. “And it didn’t start that way. I called Rosario’s, Midnight Black, and King’s Chase first. The guy at Rosario’s actually laughed at me.”

“I’d laugh at the dumb guy trying to get reservations the week of Valentine’s Day too.” Laurel sadi, the polar opposite of helpful.

“Very funny, L.” Ian said dryly. “Can I beg or your help?”

“The begging really should be for Alexis.” Laurel pointed out as she sat down. “But I can’t resist helping the Valentine’s challenged.” Se smiled as she pulled the directory screen over to herself.

-- • --

“So,” Laurel switched the device; a very useful resource provided cheaply by the Chamber of Commerce in City Central, from city directory to the city guide, “What’s with all the pomp and circumstance? As long as I’ve known you, you’ve usually gone for the simple but sweet gestures.”

“Simple and sweet don’t cut it right now.” Ian shrugged. “I mean with other girls…”

“Before you put your foot in your mouth, I’m going to remind you that we dated for a couple of weeks back in Seattle.”

Ian averted his eyes. “Yeah… The thing is I felt pretty strongly about Alexis even back in school.” Laurel made a non-committal little noise that got his attention. “What?”

“Nothing, really.” Laurel responded. As she spoke, she was cycling through a section in the city guide about the ‘best views in the city’. “I’m just surprised that you noticed you were carrying a torch for her back then.

“How could I possibly not notice that I was in love with someone?!” Ian sat up straighter.

“Oh, my, someone’s using the ‘l’ word.” Laurel said playfully.

“I’m a little old to be playing around with the subtle nuances of ‘like’ and ‘like’, aren’t I? And you still haven’t answered the question. I’m not a super genius, but I’m not entirely brainless.”

“It’s got nothing to do with intelligence, Ian.” Laurel put a hand on his arm to calm him. “But you were fifteen. I really didn’t expect that kind of emotional maturity and or empathy to figure that out so soon. People our age still have trouble with this kind of thing. Self delusion is a powerful drug. People just don’t tend to understand their feelings, especially if those feelings are socially awkward.”

“Point.” Ian conceded. “So yeah, I liked her back then and… hell, I know you could tell how it tore me up when she dropped out of contact for like months at a time during college.” He didn’t have to see her nod to know she understood. She’d been there. “Then, that last two years… before this whole Academy thing—and we hadn’t heard from her at all.” He waved his hand in a generic fashion. “Then she was back. Granted, she brought the Apocalypse with her—“

“Hyperbole much?”

“I’m trying to wax poetic. That’s a good thing given the season.” Ian smirked. “Anyway, I’ve got another chance and she’s actually into me… I mean very—“

“My room is down the hall, skip it.” Laurel laughed.

“Sorry.” Ian ducked his head. “What I’m trying to say is I don’t want to screw up. Again, I mean. The whole thing with LSI and General Pratt… the only thing that saved everything then was Maven attacking—something is definitely wrong that the best things in my life are direct results of evil. I suppose I could blame that one on George though…”

“Who?”

“Oh, he was just this older guy I ran into right after Maven’s first attack. He’s the one that gave me the tickets I gave to Cyn. Come to think of it, we’ve got him to thank for all that. Poor old guy, I wish there was some way to let him know how much good he did.”

Downstairs, the front door closed. “I’m back!” Alexis shouted into the house. “Laurel? Ian?”

“Up here!” Laurel shouted down. She snatched up the Chamber of Commerce’s portable kiosk as Ian made a move to conceal it.

Moments later, Alexis topped the stairs. Her hair had been cut; from her previous long, straight style to an exotic cut with side-cut bangs that curled past her chin, a front fringe and the hair in back cut off just below her earlobes. She smiled at their approving (if shocked) stares. “You like?” She asked.

Ian could only nod. “Nice.” Laurel said, “Very trendy. Going for something special for a special day?” She elbowed Ian with a smirk.

“Yeah, I figured I don’t need to look like a teacher anymore, so I decided to try something new. So what are you two up to?”

Laurel foiled one last attempt by Ian to retrieve the kiosk and held it up for Alexis to see. “Planning that special day.” She explained. “As my gift to my friends, I’m planning something for you two. Ever hear of the Nye Building?” Alexis and Ian shook their heads.

“It’s the administration building for Dayspring College’s School of Science and Technology. It’s river adjacent and its position blocks enough light pollution that the roof is an excellent place to stargaze. The only problem is that the roof isn’t normally accessible. Unless, of course, one was capable of flight…”

Alexis smiled. “I think I get your hint, L.”

“Great. I’ll order you guys a picnic dinner for two before I head out on my own date.”

“Wait, you’ve got a date?” Ian asked. “When did this happen?”

“While I was collaborating with the ROCIC and their marine contingent over our shiny new point defenses.” Laurel said smoothly.

“Is it possible,” Alloy asked, swinging to land on the top of a building as Facsimile landed with Zero, “That the whole Redeemer thing scared off all the high powered baddies?” He leaned against an air conditioning unit. “I mean think about it; The Brothers Steel were probably more dangerous than they look to a guy that could and did melt their armor by thinking, and Zoo Man’s tigers were scary, but not much of a threat to us…”

“When the press asked for his handle,” Facsimile reminisced, “He chose poorly.”

“What about Jack?” Zero asked, “Being chased by remote controlled police cruisers was not fun.”

“Yeah, but Ms. Brant did… things to his brain while he was connected to the ‘net.”

“Plus, what the hell kind of handle is ‘Jack’ anyway?” Facsimile reasoned. “It wasn’t even his real name.”

“I think it was supposed to be like ‘jack in’.” Zero said.

“His real name was Boris.” Facsimile continued. “He could have worked with that. He could have controlled guns and called himself ‘Full Bore’. Or, you know, maybe built a giant robot pig he controlled with his power and called himself ‘Razorback Boar’.”

“We’re kinda getting away from my point.” Alloy interrupted. “Which is, the city doesn’t need us to kick the crap out of super-crime that doesn’t exist. We should go back to doing what we did in LSI and using the scanner to find people in trouble.”

“We still do that.” Zero reminded him. “Except Ms. Keyes… uh, Darkness, is so much faster than us that we never get there on time.”

“We could kick the crap out of normal crime.” Facsimile offered.

“Not tonight thought.” Zero said, “I really want to get home so I can call Adel and ask him to the dance.” She suddenly lowered her head as if remembering that she was supposed to be shy.

“Speaking of the dance…” Alloy started.

Facsimile felt that odd stab of guilt she’d felt before. “I’m sorry, I—“ she started.

“—Did Zero already tell you that I’m going with Tink?” Alloy finished.

“someone already – wait, what?” Facsimile’s eyes widened in shock. It wasn’t that she thought him incapable of getting a date, she was just so used to the general routine they had fallen into regarding school functions.

Zero cringed behind her half mask. “I didn’t, actually.” She said defensively. “See, we were having our study group and…”

“I’m here to tell it now.” Alloy held up a hand to silence her panicked chatter.

“Seriously, Tink? I always pictured her as one of those monks, meditating on whatever contraption she’s working on like it was Enlightenment. I don’t think she’s ever had a date—or wanted one.” Facsimile took a seat on the roof. “So yeah, I have to hear this story.”

“It’s not like I danced with her up a staircase while a brass band played.” Alloy was suddenly thankful that his faceplate hid his expression. “She said she didn’t have a date, so I asked her out. Then she said ‘yes’.”

“Actually, she said ‘sure, why not?’” Zero chimed in.

“Thanks, Z.” Alloy sighed.

“You’re welcome.” She beamed.

“Basically, she agreed to go out with me so we’d shut up about the dance and get to work building the electromagnetic thing she wants us to build for our physics project.”

“A directed electromagnetic force engine.” Zero recited the name of the device.

“That thing.” Alloy confirmed. He had somewhat of a knack with machines, but he never bothered naming them.

“You should be getting dates on you own merit, not like this.” Facsimile frowned. “You’re a pretty cool guy, maybe if you kept asking around – and stopped asking the superficial bitches.”

“It’s high school.” Alloy interrupted, “Where am I going to find non-superficial people? I’m superficial, you’re superficial… even J… Zero’s superficial.”

“If know you’re superficial, doesn’t it make it not true?” Zero asked, looking distressed at the possibility.

“He’s got a point.” Facsimile deadpanned. “I mean I’m going to the dance with Jonas Griffin, after all.” She savored the surprised noises that escaped her friends. “Oh yeah, he asked me out this evening. I’m mostly going with him to screw with Lilly’s head, but I have to admit he’s pretty hot.”

“See, my point? Hold on, Jonas, Griffin, the football player?” Alloy asked.

“Also baseball.” Facsimile confirmed.

“Good… then.” Alloy said slowly. “Good. Yes. I’m sure you two will have a great time.”

“I’m sure you and Tink will too.” Facsimile replied, “And on that note, we should make sure Zero actually does call Adel tonight. Let’s fly.”

Alloy nodded and swung off as Facsimile came over to grab Zero for lift off.

“You don’t seem mad.” Zero said as soon as Alloy was away.

“Why would I be mad? I’m kind of disappointed he didn’t get a real date, but…”

“But what about how jealous you were of me? And don’t forget Liz von Stoker…”

“I wasn’t jealous.” Facsimile snapped, sweeping them both into the air. “I was being protective of my best friend, thank you very much, snowball.”

“What’s different with Tina Carlyle?”

“He knows what he’s getting into this time.” Facsimile lied. “And Tink isn’t what I’d call a heartbreaker.” She meant that part, just not in the way she intended Zero to understand it.

The place could best be described as a makeshift auditorium. Half of the space had been given over to a set of risers constructed of cinderblocks and planks which provided adequate seating for the two dozen people occupying them. The risers faced a stack of pallets where a woman sat in a wheelchair.

Belle Cummings let a casual gaze sweep over her audience as they settled down. She knew each of them by name and had personally worked with more than half of them. Pride swelled in her breast just to know that so many had responded to her call for volunteers in the endeavor she was about to lay out. It was a big step for the movement. And a big step for the movement, she reasoned, was a big step for humanity.

With those thoughts fresh in her mind, she maneuvered the chair to the center of the pallets, into the light.

“My friends, welcome, once again. I’m sure you are all very busy with your own work improving yourselves and through yourselves, mankind’s hope for the new century.” There was a murmur of agreement, much of it apprehensive.

“I also understand,” she continued, “that many of you are concerned with the specifics of the notice I sent to all of you. This is completely understandable. But you’ve trusted me before and I assure you that as those other times, I have the good of our art in mind.”

She watched the nods of agreement from her pupils. As she expected, they trusted her judgment even if they didn’t understand it entirely. “Sixteen years ago, I developed the first nerve analog to digital interface in modern medicine—and opened the way for all of you to help push the boundaries of mankind’s fragile biology. The youthful subculture proved more understanding of the methods and philosophy of interfacing than the hallowed halls of medicine. You grew my seed when they wished to smother it in paperwork.”

The agreements were more and in greater volume now. “But there are limits to what we can achieve as we are. Modifications cost money, cost time that any well paying legal job simply won’t allow for. That is the problem that my solution addresses.”

“By the most conservative police estimates, organized crime in Mayfield alone is a six hundred billion dollar a year venture. And these organizations are run by ordinary people—men and women without our brilliance or capability. Imagine what we could do with even a segment of that market.”

The crowd was agitated now. “I know that this is a big step. But we all agree that interfacing is the best path mankind can follow. We are pioneers and sometimes, to be a pioneer, one must become a criminal. The founding fathers of this great country became traitors to become the great men they are today. By comparison, theft, trafficking and arms dealing are nothing. All it takes is some… venture capital.”

“What about the Descendants?” asked a young woman in the top row of the risers. “Alloy alone…”

“The vigilantes are a risk, I won’t lie to you.” Belle admitted. “But nothing ventured is nothing gained. Our first target will be Mayfield Security Systems. All of my research indicates that it is off the beaten path the vigilantes frequent, but just in case, I’ll ask that anyone with exposed metal parts to refrain from joining me—or temporarily downgrade to plastic or ceramic components.”

She rolled forward to the edge of the pallet. “Make no mistake, this is the vanishing point. Valentine’s Night will be the first test of the virtues of interfacing. Who is with me in facing it?”

Her surety swayed them. She had never led them astray before; she wasn’t likely to. They all cheered for the dawning of their new age.

On the south side, conveniently sitting adjacent to a number of frequent patrol routes for the Descendants, another store was getting no real notice at all. A. Aaronson’s Specialty Flowers had opened with little fanfare aside from a sign announcing that it was having a sale on last minute flower orders.

That probably would have earned it a large rush of customers—except the sign was angled in such a way that it was only easily read from above.

Those few that noticed the place, would assume that lack of advertising was responsible when it closed on February 15th.

-- • --

Three dark shapes glided down to the roof of the Mayfield Security Systems building on billowing black wings, their silhouettes masked by the lengthening shadows brought by the setting sun. They landed smoothly with a short figure at their head.

He extended both arms, displaying two carbon rods extending from the backs of his wrists, connected to a harness on his back by twin sheets of black canvas material. With a jerking motion, the rods folded down into his wrists, shedding the canvas, which receded into the harness at his back in the process.

“The glide fabric is based on Dr. Caravaggio’s work, of course.” He explained to his comrades in low tones as they withdrew their own flying implements. “And the best part is that by the grace of Henry Ford and replaceable parts, this system can be installed to anyone who uses Gough’s ulna/radius storage assembly.” He beamed with pride at the approving noised his compatriots responded with. “Anyway, we’re on schedule. Time to show us your stuff, Sally.” He gestured to the roof access door.

Sally, a young woman with thin brown hair, nodded. A pair of lenses rolled down from beneath her eyelids, tinting her eyes a gleaming green. “On it. Spectrographic analysis is in progress.” She hurried to the door, staring intently at it. After a while, she pulled out a set of lock picks and got to work on the door.

“Jamming in progress. Infrared, visible spectrum, ultraviolet, radio – all signals in range are jammed.” She continued to self narrate as she opened the door for her allies. “Welcome to the biggest payroll handler in Mayfield, gentlemen.” She smiled, stepping in herself.

“Uh, Sally?” the last of the trio asked. His own eyes were tinted blue by similar lenses, “Sis?”

“What, Ed?” She asked petulantly.

“You can sense all security measures, right?”

“Yes, that’s what the electromagnetic suite is for after all, you gob.”

“Except I don’t think a mechanical pressure pad would show up on that.” Ed said nervously. “And I just saw the tile you’re on move fifteen micrometers farther than it should under your weight.”

Sally blinked, and then cocked her head as if listening for something. “Oh shit.” She hissed.

The first man bit off a curse, and turned to look across to the adjacent skyscraper. “Belle.” He said, “Plan B.”

“You just had to go out of our way to hit a flower shop on the other side of town.” Cyn grumbled at Warrick as Juniper drove the trio in Laurel’s SUV toward the high school. “We’re going to be late.”

“Hey, Tink’s been insisting that this isn’t technically a date,” Warrick defended. “So I’m not technically being cheap taking advantage of a seventy-five percent off closeout sale on corsages. Good thing I noticed it the other day on patrol.”

“Shouldn’t flower prices go up for Valentine’s day?” Juniper asked. She wore a blue top and cream colored skirt.

“Good point; those are probably grey market knock-off flowers from Columbia or something.” Cyn was wearing a red velvet dress with black knee boots and matching gloves. She was certain it would have Jonas’s jaw on the floor, as well as Warrick’s. “And just why did it take you so long in there anyway?”

“The clerk guy told me that what I asked for was all wrong, and offered to help me pick something better.”

“And you listened to him over me, Juniper, and Laurel?” Cyn breathed.

“I panicked, okay? What do I know about flowers? I’m not that big a fan of green things. Concrete, asphalt and metal—those are my element.”

“And of course, it didn’t even occur to you to simply not buy flowers for Tina ‘not technically a date’ Carlyle.” Cyn shook her head, exasperated.

“That would just be rude.” Warrick and Juniper replied as one.

“You two have much to learn.” Cyn sighed. Something in the alley across from her caught her eye, causing her to do a double take. “Hey, wait a minute, stop the car.”

“You said we were going to be late.” protested Juniper. Nevertheless, she did as directed and pulled over to the side of the nearly empty street they had been following.

“Check it out.” Cyn pointed. Across from them, the steel security door at the back of Mayfield Security Systems was hanging open. “That thing’s bent all to hell.” She noted. “I’m thinking super strength.”

“She’s right, June.” Warrick confirmed with his metal sense. Someone went at that thing with their bare hands. I can sense handprints dented into it.

“Wait, we can’t go fight bad guys now.” Juniper whimpered. “We’ve got the dance and I’m the lead singer and…”

“You’re also the bone chilling Zero of the Descendants.” Cyn pointed out, already crawling into the back seat. “And we don’t know why a super strong ox just broke into the second biggest security firm in Mayfield.”

“But you’re going with the most popular guy in school. And Warrick, you’re going with Tink, isn’t that important too?” Juniper argued half heartedly.

“Jonas and I are only going to this to annoy Lilly.” Cyn corrected, disappearing behind the cover of the rear seat. “And Tink has already let Warrick know that this isn’t technically a date. So we have nothing to lose by being late.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘nothing’” Warrick said, already looking around for metal to armor up with.

“Nothing.” Cyn came up from behind the seat as Facsimile. Her gold eyes blazed.

“You’re right.” Juniper breathed. “Of course you’re right. It’s just that with Adel, I was hoping…”

“Adel isn’t going to get snatched up, trust me.” Facsimile said, tossing the poncho from the road emergency kit to her. “And we’re not missing this dance. Nothing is going to make me miss my chance to take Lilly down a notch. We’ll go in, wale on this guy a bit, and go out. Warrick, can you make her a mask?”

Belle watched one of her cybernetic colleagues working on the elevator controls in the Mayfield Security Systems lobby. She had to hand it to the firm; they practiced what they preached. The moment the alarm was tripped; the mainframe had disabled operation of the elevator and locked every security door in the building.

The doors weren’t a problem for her allies with enhanced strength, but the elevators were proving to be a true hurtle. The mainframe could send orders to the elevator, but the connection wasn’t two-way – she couldn’t hack it remotely. She would have to get into the mainframe room to do that. Thus, she was having Irving, one of her loyal friends, take manual control of the elevators.

Aside from that and the pressure pad that had triggered it, all was going according to plan; Eugene and the Reynard siblings were making their way down the building to the safe, where she would use her skills to expose the central safe to the ‘gentle coaxing’ of her strength enhanced counterparts. Yes, this plan was actually going to—

“I’m going to guess you guys aren’t the night janitors.” The half dozen assembled cyborgs turned to see Alloy, flanked by Zero and Facsimile, standing at the back entrance to the lobby.

“Huh?” Facsimile muttered. She had arrived expecting one or two rogue psionics, quite probably bulging with muscles and possibly claws, stone skin, or some other characteristics she associated with strong types.

Instead, she was confronted by a cadre of bedraggled looking people ranging from their late teens to early thirties with the wheelchair bound woman looking to be well into her fifties. They ran the entire gamut of ‘out of shape’ between rail thin and portly and were dressed in old tee-shirts over whatever pants or skirts had been handy. The only thing proving that they were up to anything nefarious was that all of them wore some kind of face concealing mask or goggles.

“It looks like the IT department here decided to have a masquerade ball.” She smirked after getting her bearings.

“But the door outside…” Zero queried, adjusting the metal mask Alloy had made for her out of part of that selfsame door.

The woman in the motorized wheelchair maneuvered around to face them. She looked more like a teacher than a master criminal; long, graying hair, weathered face bearing an ugly scar on her forehead. A pair of thick glasses perched on a hawk-like nose, which she stared down at them. The most striking thing about her was that her torso seemed to be sunk into a metal box welded to the chair. “Oh yes, the door. We had to break that down, you see.”

“Yeah, with some kind of strength boosting tech.” Alloy said, “Judging by the amounts of circuitry I’m feeling under your skin, I’m going to guess ‘spark jockies’.” At his mention of what he could sense under their skin, a couple of the cyborgs cringed.

“We aren’t to be trifled with, vigilante.” Belle growled. “We’re the next step for mankind.”

“Oh, “Facsimile chuckled, “I get it, you’re a cult. I mean trading Kool-Aid for silicon is cute and I guess digital super powers are better than a magic comet or whatever…”

“Shut up!” Belle snapped. “We’re a movement. We’re going to take this world by storm, starting with the underworld!”

“I’ve got a question,” Zero politely raised her hand. “You want to get your group recognized… as criminals?”

“Everyone has to start somewhere.” Belle replied. “And we started by designing offensive modifications.” Gun barrels emerged from the chair, emitting a whining sound. All around her, there were sick sounds of flesh parting to expel hidden weapons from within.

A man with a shaved head arched forward, allowing a mechanical scorpion tail to extend from his lower back. Another, a man with a great beak of a nose and an unkempt beard flexed his arms upward, causing a pair of ceramic blades to telescope from the backs of his wrists. A tiny woman of no more than twenty years, simply dropped into an exaggerated karate stance. One of the other men, a heavy set man in his thirties, gestured and rectangular shapes moved and positioned themselves beneath his skin. A twenty-something with a hawkish nose and surly expression lifted his arms to reveal two extra mechanical limbs formed out of plastic.

“Nice.” Facsimile said. “But we can do the badass pose thing too.” As she spoke, her fingers lengthened into talons. Isp and Osp unraveled from Alloy’s arms, feeling their way through the air sleepily. Zero coalesced a handful of ice daggers into her hands. Facsimile allowed herself a grin that her friends indulged her on that. “Cool. So we have places to go, so let’s make this quick – it’s five on five, so this will take like two minutes.”

There was the sound of glass breaking from the front of the lobby. The young heroes turned to see another band of cybernetic everymen enter through shattered security glass, ready for a fight. They were more obviously transfigured than the first bunch, with fully prosthetic limbs, glowing lights in odd places, or in one case, a wicked set of metal talons replacing their fingernails.

“Allowing for your miscounting of your own forces,” Belle said, “Its now thirteen on three.” The guns mounted on her chair belched fire, signaling the attack.

Alloy stepped into the path of the large caliber projectiles, taking them easily on his armor. These were followed immediately by the man with the mechanical scorpion tail, who was quickly tripped by Isp before he reached the armored prelate.

Turning toward the group of cyborgs that had burst in the front, Zero held a palm toward the ground directly in front of them. A crust of ice formed and spread out toward them. A few slipped, but that wasn’t her aim. Moving like a dancer, she darted forward, to the edge of the frozen section of floor and stomped it, pressing her heel in the direction of the cyborgs.

The ice shattered into broad plates that slid over each other, lifting and tossing the assembled cyborgs into one another. They fell, unable to find purchase between the shifting plates and the slippery surfaces thereof.

The young woman with the aforementioned steely talons and strange lumps under her skin suggesting some type of subdermal armor, stepped on the back of one of her own and used him as leverage to leap at Zero. She didn’t make it far before Osp whipped around, catching her in the stomach and sending her sliding across the lobby floor.

Facsimile plunged forward into the cyborgs at the elevator. Her talons caught the ceramic blades coming out of one man’s wrist and used them as handles to swing him hard into the four armed man.

Then there was the impact of something heavy, which sent her sprawling. She looked up to see the rotund man. His shirt rode up to reveal a patchwork of subdermal plates lining his girth.

“Oh, that’s just wrong.” Facsimile made a face. “Almost as bad as starting a machine cult because you can’t handle being in a wheelchair, eh granny?” She grinned at Belle before rolling out of the way of another volley of fire.

“I chose this for myself.” Belle beamed, tracking her cannons after Facsimile, careful not to hit her own people. “To test my theories. Ever hear of phantom sensations? The feeling amputees report—as if they can still feel their lost limbs?”

Across the room, Alloy was thrown backward by the seemingly un-augmented, petite woman who nevertheless lifted him plus the armor he wore. He landed with a clang on his back and the tiny woman wasted not time leaping on top of him, raining powerful blows with her tiny fists.

Zero was being forced to devote her concentration to throwing blunted ice daggers at the cyborgs that managed to stand up in the middle of her hastily created debris field.

“Well,” Belle continued menacing Facsimile as she dodged the cyborgs immediately around her, “I believed that I could use those nerve reactions to control machines at neural conduction velocities. To test it, I had Otto here—“she gestured to the fat man with the armored belly, “remove my legs. It turns out I was right.”

“What the hell?” shouted Alloy through his dented faceplate. Isp and Osp managed to break away from keeping the two cyborgs capable of leaping off of Zero’s debris field down and wrapped the tiny titan in their coils, lifting her off their host. “You didn’t know it would work?!”

“I say again: What is wrong with you people?” Cyn demanded, punching out a man with rotating spikes screwed into his head. “Have you ever heard of lab rats? Guinea pigs? Any sort of testing that doesn’t involve cutting off your own legs? And what’s wrong with the chip people with fake arms and legs wear, anyway?”

“My nerve analog to digital interface is leaps and bounds beyond targeted muscle/sensory reinnervation.” Belle declared. “Those only allow natural movements. I can interface with any device!”

“Buy a keyboard, damnit!” Cyn launched herself at the older woman. Strong arms caught her shoulders as she did. Another pair of strong arms – plastic ones this time – locked around her waist. The four armed cyborg held her off the ground.

“How sad that you can’t see my genius, vigilante.” Belle shook her head sadly as the guns tracked up. “I hoped that explaining it would change your world view. But sadly, you’re as closed minded as the criminal community you combat. Thus, I have no use for you.” The guns whined as the built up another charge. “Goodbye.”

-- • --

Both guns fired, their large caliber fragmenting rounds right on target. Facsimile only smirked and opened up a pair of holes in her body, allowing the projectiles to pass right through her – and into the mechanical arms of the man holding her. There were sparks and then the gold skinned heroine rolled free of her assailant.

Belle cursed and swung her chair around so the guns found Zero’s unprotected back. Both weapons jammed simultaneously.

“What?” Belle stared down at her malfunctioning artillery. “These weapons can’t jam! What happened?”

“Common mistake, really.” Alloy admitted as he fended off the blows of the scorpion tailed cyborg. “The guns were non-metallic, yeah. But the bullets were lead and lead is a metal.” He directed Isp to grab the scorpion-man’s tail and hurl him into the super-strong little woman before she could get to her feet.

“Why does everyone assume your powers only work on magnetic metals?” Facsimile asked smugly.

“Hey, it makes it easier on me.” He shrugged.

That got the attention of all the cyborgs. The ones still caught on Zero’s trap stopped struggling to stand altogether.

“He can affect the metal even if he can’t see it.” The little woman with the big power gave voice to the concerns of the cyborgs as she pushed herself from beneath the now unconscious form of the man with the scorpion tail.

Facsimile and Zero took the opportunity provided by the cyborgs’ hesitation to regroup with Alloy.

The man who had grabbed Facsimile moved over to Belle. “Does it matter?” he asked. “Does it really matter? It has to be done, right, Belle? We’ll have to fight them time and time again anyway once we get our criminal empire in place, isn’t that right?”

“I’m still really confused about why you want that.” Zero offered.

“Because they’re crazy, Z.” Facsimile looked around at the cyborgs Zero had subdued getting to their feet. “They have this neat new hobby they’re so excited about that they’ll pay an arm and a literal leg for and they’re not happy with starting conventions and clubs like normal geeks.”

“We aren’t geeks.” The petite, but strong woman sniffed.

“Trust me, you’re geeks.” Facsimile shrugged.

“Not, you know that that’s a bad thing. The geek part, not the ‘trying to start your own mob here in Mayfield’ part.” Alloy added, “I mean when we’re geeks like you guys… when we’re not… defeating guys like you guys.”

“Also, we don’t mutilate ourselves.” Facsimile added.

“I’m a geek?” Zero asked.

“No, honey, you’re not.” Facsimile responded. “Playing Deathgate alone is not enough. And the little paper crafty things…”

“Origami.” Zero offered.

“Yeah, whatever.” Facsimile shrugged, “It’s not a geek hobby. I don’t know what kind of hobby it is, but it’s not geekish. But we can fix you. I mean we can rent a bunch of our favorite movies for you to watch…”

“Oh, you do origami?” the taloned woman asked, “Have you seen the new Between the Folds article on the Pretty Gold Crane website?”

“The one about adding working complex joints to existing sculptures?” Zero practically squealed. “I’ve been dying to try it out!”

“I’m CornerCut on that site. That’s all one word—“

“That’s enough!” The formerly four armed man roared. “Belle, can’t you see what they’re doing? Don’t you hear the sirens? They’re trying to stall us long enough for the police to arrive.”

“No, I actually was—“Zero started.

“Do you really think we need to stall for the police?” Facsimile interjected. “If we really cared, we could kick your sub-cultured asses in half a second. Weren’t we just talking about how Alloy here can rip your circuits out?” She thought a second and added, “You know, we really are running late now, Alloy. Can we just…”

“He won’t.” the man with the sparking arms growled. “If he was cold enough to do it, he would have done it already.”

“Dale, a moment to think.” Belle’s eyes narrowed as she did just that. The logic was there, and she could hear the sirens approaching. The battle had taken only about three minutes but the MPD’s response time was better than she had expected. But the sirens already told her that the day was lost. It would be better to surrender peacefully, without provoking Alloy to using his power in what would promise to be a painful manner. Tomorrow was another day and she did have options left to her. They all did. She said nothing.

Dale snarled. “We don’t have time for this! The cops will be here soon. They’ll be armed for bear if they’ve gotten any reports about this fight. its do or die time—just like the founding fathers.” With a battle-cry that was far from impressive, he surged toward the young heroes.

“Why does every nutbag think he’s George-bleeding-Washington?” Facsimile groused, bracing for the cybernetic rush.

Only about half of the cyborgs sprung into action. Otto moved over beside Belle as if to protect her. From the elevator side, Dale and the small, strength enhanced woman came. From the other side, four gathered the courage to attack.

Facsimile bounded out to meet Dale head to head. “This is all your fault, you know?” she unleashed a flurry of clawed swipes at his face, which he warded off with his own normal hands. “the old lady may have started this fight, but you’re the ones dragging your friends into a grand maul beat down.”

“You call this a beat down?” Dale laughed, blocking everything Facsimile threw at him. “You fight like you’ve only had a week’s work of lessons.”

“It’s been like four months!” Facsimile said indignantly, drawing more laughter from the cyborg.

“Please, I’m a second degree black belt. And the nice thing about that is that with four arms, I can attack as well as defend.”

“Too bad I tricked your boss into shooting out your gear then, huh?”

“The right, yes. But only the actuators on my left are damaged.”

Facsimile’s eyes went to the left arm. The right one caught her in the ribs with what would have been a knife hand strike if most of the fingers hadn’t recently been blasted off by a .50 caliber armor piercing round. As it was, this made it much worse for the Descendants’ resident shapeshifter, as the blast had exposed live wires.

Her wings snapped up around her, contorting and withering. Bands of color ripped up and down her body as she fell back, shrieking in pain. No one looked more surprised and horrified than Dale himself.

“Fax!” Alloy surged forward, knocking the man attacking him to the ground.

Dale saw him coming and his look of shock melted into one of victory. “Not another step, hero.” He raised his sparking appendage in preparation to strike the prone Facsimile. “I’ve got the advantage now.”

“Dale.” Belle said sharply. “Enough. I don’t know what you did, but that was going too far.”

“Nothing it too far.” Dale intoned. “If we’re going to do this, we can’t hesitate.” His prosthetic arm came down. Then It wrenched backward painfully. The exposed wires writhed of their own volition before violently expelling themselves from Dale’s artificial arm.

The nerve analog to digital interface circuit was essentially a wetware component; wire leads around which nerve tissue was grown. The removal of the wire produces the unique and horrible sensation of having the core of a nerve bundle stripped out. Dale’s smugness dissolved as he screamed in unequaled pain.

Alloy lowered the hand he had pointed at Dale. For a moment, he couldn’t find words. He hadn’t expected such a reaction. “If you’re not going to listen to her, then you’ll listen to me. You’ve got too far.” The sirens outside were now close enough that everyone could hear them. He turned to Facsimile, kneeling beside her. “Are you okay?”

“That hurt like hell.” The golden prelate groaned. “But I’m okay.” She peered over at Dale, who was still writhing in agony, clutching his side where the limb had been implanted. “What did you do to him?”

“He was going to give you another shock.” Alloy said, a bit unsteadily. “So I stopped it the best way I could… I ripped the wires out.” He looked at Belle who was watching Dale’s plight impassively. “Is he going to be alright?”

“You stripped nerves.” Belle replied. “It is probably intensely painful, but the connections of the interface are such that he won’t suffer any permanent damage.”

“Right then.” Facsimile said, standing up with Alloy’s help. “None of the rest of you move or you get it too, understand?” Her words were unnecessary as seeing what happened to Dale had already taken the fight out of the remaining cyborgs.

“Everybody freeze!” Police in riot gear swarmed into the broken front windows, taking up tactical positions.

“I already told them that.” Facsimile folded her arms.

“It’s Life Savers, Inc.” one of the responding officers said. “They’ve already got the situation in hand.”

“Aren’t they the Descendants now?” another asked.

“If I may interrupt, officer.” Belle said, “My people and I wish to turn ourselves in for breaking and entry and attempted grand theft.”

“Wait, what?” Alloy blinked beneath his helm.

“I agree.” The super-strong woman said, “Wait, what?”

“Things will go better for us if we cooperate.” Belle reasoned, “The media will be more sympathetic to us than if we were turned over by their beloved vigilantes.”

“I guess that’s alright.” Zero shrugged as the police began cuffing and disabling the devices of the various cyborgs. She looked at her counterparts. “Can we go now?”

“What a night.” Cyn said, as the SUV pulled into school parking lot. “Who knew that Mayfield had a cybernetic subculture?”

“Or that they were going criminal with it.” Warrick added, trying to straighten his suit.

“At least they’re all going to jail.” Juniper offered, turning into a parking space. “I mean, maybe they’ll be rehabilitated. Think of what people that can do things like that are capable of if they weren’t… well, evil.”

“Okay, no more talk about villainy.” Cyn piped up. “It’s time to party. Actually for me, it’s mostly time to gloat over Lilly and make a bunch of other girls I hate jealous.”

“Jonas knows this right?” Warrick asked, “Because you said he asked you and that, to me, sounds like he likes you. And that wouldn’t be right.”

“For the last time: yes, he knows.” Cyn said, climbing out of the car and stretching in an exaggerated fashion. “And him asking me does not mean he likes me that way. You asked Tink out, right? Does that mean you like her?”

“I could.” Warrick said indignantly. “She’s cute; she’s really into science, and likes making gizmos.”

“And she’s totally not interested.” Cyn said.

“Not totally.”

“She agreed to go to the dance with you to shut you up.” Cyn said.

“She could have said no and told me to shut up.” Warrick countered.

“Why are you guys fighting?” Juniper asked, coming from around the car.

“We’re not fighting; I’m just giving Warrick a hard time.” Cyn shrugged.

“That wasn’t fighting?” Warrick asked.

“If it was fighting, you’d be on your back right about now.” Cyn said, throwing an arm over his shoulders. “I’m just tweaking you. Plus, I still think you should have held out for a girl that actually wanted to go with you. There’s bound to be plenty of girls like that at school.”

“I need names.”

“Well, I don’t have names, but they’re there.” Cyn assured him. She gave him a sidelong glance when she spotted the bag from the florists in his hand. “So what did you get her anyway? Seeing as you blew off our advice for the flower guy’s”

“A violet corsage.” The group walked toward the school.

Cyn rolled her eyes at them. “For god’s sake, he gave you violets? That’s going to clash with anything she wears unless it’s—“

“A purple blouse and skirt?” Juniper asked, looking ahead.

Cyn followed her gaze to confirm that Tina was, indeed standing by the doors wearing that very outfit. Immediately, she shot a glare at Warrick. “I’d say you were a lucky son of a bitch, but your mom baked me seven dozen cookies for Christmas and I can’t bring myself to insult a woman that does such wonderful things with cinnamon.”

-- • --

The high school gym was rather unconvincingly disguised as a ballroom via the questionable magic of crepe paper and a disco ball. Luckily, it wasn’t as if more than one or two of the students had ever seen an actual ballroom, so no one was disappointed.

The dance was already twenty minutes in when Warrick, Cyn, and Juniper entered accompanied by Tina Carlyle. Juniper broke from her friends and sprinted for the bandstand where Snackrifice was already set up and playing an instrumental.

“Late much?” Kay asked, her smile belying any sense that she was annoyed.

“Sorry,” Juniper apologized, “We, uh, ran into bad traffic. Some people just don’t know how to handle their machines at all.” She looked at Adel, who was sitting at his drums and blushed. “Hi Adel.”

“Hey.” He kept his gaze downward. Juniper didn’t try for more. Asking him to the dance in the first place had taken an hour of attempting small talk which failed utterly, forcing her to ask him to go with her in a rather blunt manner.

“No problem.” Lisa shrugged, doing her best to appear as if she hadn’t noticed the exchange. “It isn’t like Principal Walters is paying us.”

“So,” Kay smiled, “I say we open with To the One that Matters Most and then roll into some of the covers we’ve practiced – The Only Roche’s Skip-around, Blinded by Radiance’s Stand Beside Her, SB’s The Episode Where They Finally Kiss, and then we’ll put on a couple recordings so you three can get you Valentine on and I can perpetrate some violence on the snack table. Sound good?”

“Aye-aye, fearless leader.” Lisa laughed.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Juniper nodded, reaching over to adjust her mic.

Adel just nodded and picked up his sticks.

“Right.” Kay said, poising her fingers over her keyboard. She nodded to Adel who started tapping out the beat. Lisa picked up with her bass and was soon joined by Kay.

Juniper closed her eyes for a second, basking in the heat of the spotlight before starting to sing. Every time she was in this position, she was thankful that she’d allowed Kay to pressure her into being Snackrifice’s lead singer.

Being the eternal optimist and near constant pushover was stressful even if that was exactly who she wanted to be. But living with Cyn and being friends with Kay often pushed that to its limits. They didn’t really bother her and she loved even her most domineering friends, but sometimes she just wanted to shout at them until she was hoarse.

But she knew that was a door that could never be closed once it was opened. She wanted them to like her and that was something neither Kay nor Cyn could forgive in her mind.

So singing was her outlet. It let her pour all the passion and emotion she kept folded away into something that not only didn’t hurt her friendships, but made more people like her. And if there was one thing Juniper craved, it was for people to like her.

Filling her lungs, she started on To the One that Matters Most.

When you’re gone so far away…
Even if it’s for a single day…
You know my heart just sinks.

Across the floor, Tina accepted a cup of punch from a visibly harried Warrick. “So,” she teased, “Being late isn’t really a good first impression. Though I guess it’s better than skipping out early.”

“I’m sorry about that; we really got tied up at home.” Warrick hung his head. “And I guess you heard about the whole thing with Liz—it’s not what you think…”

“Well, not what you think I think at any rate.” Tina shrugged. Warrick had to admit that she looked very good in her blouse and skirt. She wore khakis and pullovers to school and a simple change of wardrobe had revealed an entirely different dimension of her attractiveness. She took a sip of the punch. “I heard all the things von Stoker’s said about you. Several versions in fact – all from her. And you pretty much look worse in each one.”

“Oh.” Warrick sighed. “Listen, you don’t have to stay. I know you just decided to go so we’d stop talking about the dance. I’m not going to make you hang around…”

When are you coming back to me?
You’re the one I hope to see.
Feel like my life is a jinx.

Tina grabbed the back of his collar as he started to walk off. “Maybe I will go if you think I’m dumb enough to have believed any of it.”

“You don’t?—wait, I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that, well pretty much every girl in school that doesn’t live with me either already hates me for that scene with Lilly in the cafeteria at the beginning of classes, or buys into Liz’s version of what happened.”

“Most girls in our school either try to dress like one another to make fun of conformists—and are completely unaware of irony—or are so ready to buy into a drama queen’s rants that the possibility that high school isn’t just some bizarre soap opera can’t even wriggle into their skulls.” Tina pointed out. “But I’m not them and I’m not Elizabeth von Stoker. I can’t even understand her, really. So she’s a psionic? So she didn’t get the cool powers? So what? They’re not to blame for what’s going on with her. Lilly hates plenty of non-powered people too: me and your friend, Cyn, for example.”

Warrick tried to keep a straight face at hearing Cyn described as ‘non-powered’. “I didn’t know she hated you.”

“It’s less prominent now with Cyn around. Cyn fights back, I don’t care, so I’m less of a challenge and thus I’m not worth it.”

“Oh.” Warrick nodded. “Still, I don’t get why you’re not accepting a chance to jump ship on the whole ‘non-date’ thing.”

Tina shook her head and sighed. “I may have been a little crucial to you with this whole non-date business. See, I’ve never had a date.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth. “Correction: I’ve never wanted a date. Like Lilly’s empire of popularity, I don’t care. I mean someday, sure. But to me, high school is for learning, not romance, get me?”

In another town…
Or on another coast –
This one goes out
to the one who matters most.

“I guess… I don’t agree with you, but I get you. But really, if you want to hear my opinion, I don’t see why you can’t do both. I’ve probably crashed and burned at more attempts at flirting than any guy in school, but I’m still on the A-B honor roll. Juniper does better than me and she spends most of her free time trying to get Mr. Living Brick on the drums up there to notice her. Just pointing that out…”

To the one that matters most!

Tina grinned. “That’s kind of what I was thinking on the drive over here—you know, less so when I was waiting for you and you were late.” Warrick cringed at that. “But I was thinking it. And now I am here and I’m all dressed up and well, I’m kind of thinking that maybe you’re not such a bad guy to have a first date with.”

“Really?”

She laughed, “Sure, why not?”

“Well, in that case…” Warrick extracted the flower shop bag from his blazer pocket and took the plastic case containing the corsage out. “This is for my date.”

Tina smiled. “So why why’d you go with lilacs?”

“Pure stupid luck and a really pushy old guy named George.” Warrick said truthfully. “Why?”

“That’s pretty good stupid luck then.” Tina took the flowers, “Lilacs are my favorite.”

Even if you’re gone away…
Think about you night and day…
I wish I had you close…

‘Cause you’re the one that matters most.

Not far away, near the snack tables, Jonas stared goggle-eyed at the impossible pile of finger foods Cyn had managed to pile onto the paper saucer provided. “It’s a lot, isn’t it?” Cyn smirked at him.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Jonas admitted, “But damn, you eat like me after a game.”

“I missed dinner.” Cyn wove her excuse as she went. “We were going to hit a fast food place before coming here, but then traffic was so screwed up and… you know the rest—cheese on a toothpick?” she offered the cubed dairy product, all too aware that her hunger would have liked nothing more than to directly absorb the cheese along with the toothpick and the plate they were both sitting on. She hadn’t admitted it to the others, but the shock Dale had given her had taken more out of her than she would like to admit.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Jonas said, taking to proffered bit of food.

Can’t you see I’m missing you?
What do I say, what must I do?
I’m wanting for your touch…

“Look girls.” Cyn and Jonas both knew the high toned voice behind them all too well. They turned to see Lilly and two of her friends—all wearing the exact same green dress—giving them disapproving looks. “It’s our favorite freak and she’s bought a date.”

“Didn’t you hear?” One of Lilly’s personality clones by the name of Alice scoffed, “The in thing is to not bring a date to the V-day dance.”

I want to know if you’re missing me.
Even if you’re gone across a sea.
You’re the one I love so much…

Cyn and Jonas exchanged glances. Moments later, Cyn burst into laughter. “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.” She stepped close enough to Lilly to cause the other girl to step back. “Jonas didn’t ask you, and instead of getting another date, you rearrange everything you call ‘in’ instead?”

Lilly sniffed and made a face. “Oh please. We’ve all know this for months. Don’t get all upset because once again, you’re a freak.”

In another town…
Or on another coast –
This one goes out
to the one who matters most.

To the one that matters most!

Taking a step back, Cyn mumbled to herself, “Oh my god, I’m stuck on… on… like a mobius strip of moronicness.” She raised her voice to Lilly. “Why does everyone have to seek out the most needlessly complicated way to get things done?! You could have just grabbed another jock at random and declared him the new Mr. Popular with your Queen Bee magic powers.”

She rubbed her temples. “But no. That’s too simple. It makes too much sense. THERE AREN’T ENOUGH CATS RUNNING ON FREAKING CONVEYOR BELTS! So instead of that—which a person slightly less insane would do, because leaving me alone isn’t an option—you ruin Valentine’s Day for all of your friends to get a chance… an outside, dark horse, million-to-one shot that by doing this, you would ruin mine. I say this too often for my own sanity, but what the hell is wrong with you?!”

Lilly snorted and faked whispering to the Alice, “So jealous.”

Cyn’s teeth audibly ground together.

Even if you’re gone away…
Think about you night and day…
I wish I had you close…

‘Cause you’re the one that matters most.

“You didn’t get your news out to everyone, I see.” Jonas stepped in beside Cyn, putting a hand on her arm to keep her from punching Lilly into the punchbowl.

Lilly rolled her eyes. “What are you talking about, Jonas?”

“Isn’t that Callie over there dancing with Brett?” He pointed. “And I’m sure I saw Stephanie come in with Nathan. They’re still your friends, right?”

He couldn’t help but grin at the look of rage that crossed Lilly’s face as she span to see Callie. Not only was she with a date, but her red skirt was decidedly not identical to the green dresses Lilly, Alice and Kim had worn to the dance.

She gave both Jonas and Cyn a dirty look before stomping in Callie’s direction.

Trying hard to keep my cool,
Feeling like a lonely fool,
Wish I didn’t have to wait so long.

“Nice job.” Cyn chuckled, surreptitiously putting a fistful of cheese and crackers behind her back. She was seriously running on empty, but couldn’t very well jam the whole plate in her maw. There was a barely noticeable wisp of smoke as the nutrients were absorbed into her fist.

“I couldn’t let our unholy alliance be for nothing.” Jonas shrugged, hands in his pockets.

“You’re devious.” Cyn admitted. “I like that.”

“Does that earn me a dance?”

Cyn started to shake her head, but then the teenage girl deep inside made herself known. Here she was, at the Valentine’s Dance, with a date – a handsome date – a popular, handsome date – and she was thinking of blowing him off? For what? There was absolutely no reason not to dance and have fun.

In fact, she deserved it. Juniper was getting the guy she wanted. From where she stood, she could tell that Warrick’s ‘not a date’ was straying into ‘definitely a date’ territory. And they hadn’t had their cells scrambled by a jackass with some exposed wiring. This was clearly God making up for the existence of cyborgs.

And really, if she turned Jonas down, that would make her… well, Melissa. And she didn’t want that.

“Sure.” She finally said, “Let’s show Lilly exactly what she’s missing.”

The song rounded the last lyrical corners with Juniper’s voice carrying over all the dancing couples (plus a trio of identically dress girls berating one of said couples).

Never going to forget,
No matter how I wait and fret,
While I’m writing you this song…

About the one that matters most.

End Issue #15