The boxing glove on a spring, I’m proud to say, was an invention of my own design. With my new income and resources I finally had the means to make it a reality, working on it whenever my foster parents weren’t around.

  I’d had to remove much of the stuffing from the boxing gloves I bought and had fitted it around a dense cube of steel. I tinkered with the spring mechanism linking it to the trigger, poring over my workbench with a relentless intensity.

  Every once in a while I would collapse the spring, and then lift the weapon and test its weight. If it felt too heavy I’d shave a little off the steel block and then test the firing mechanism. The spring and jets of compressed gas in the sides allowed it to shoot forward at an impressive speed. Odds were it would kill a normal human, especially if it hit them in the noggin. But someone as tough as Trailblazer would probably be knocked out cold or at least be left aching.

  I lifted the boxing glove, tested the weight and balance of it with one hand. I considered myself in decent shape, not that I’d ever been much of an athlete, and the steel block seemed light enough for my liking.

  Part of me wanted to upgrade my costume into a full on suit of power armour, or at least get an exoskeleton frame to put the costume on, but the price for things like that? Astronomical. And while Binder was a well connected man, even he didn’t have access to that kind of gear.

  For now, at least, I had to be mindful of the weight of the gear I brought with me. Couldn’t carry too much, or weigh my belt with too many things like the glove.

  I gauged the distance carefully, aiming to the far end of the room, and pulled the trigger. The spring sprung, gas hissed from the jets, and in the blink of an eye the boxing glove had shot two meters forward. The recoil made me wince a bit, a painful jolt shooting up to my shoulder.

  “Shit,” I muttered, tapping the recall button on the side. The glove wound back at a slower rate, the spring clicking into place. “Good thing the costume has shock absorption built in,” I muttered.

  Still, the glove would be a useful weapon to have. But in the back of my mind I was still trying to work out a weapon that could possibly overcome Impact’s telekinesis, or what appeared to be telekinesis. If she had a forcefield, things like the glove and my yo-yo would be useless.

  Lassie stared at me, her head cocked to the side. I forced myself to smile. “Nothing to worry about girl. Nothing at all. Just workshopping some ideas of mine.”

  I had the beginnings of an idea for a new weapon, but... well I’d need some parts to make it happen.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  My high school was an institution known as St. Jerome’s. I wasn’t Catholic, personally, but these days the school had to take anyone regardless of their religious background, and it was the closest high school to where I lived.

  I didn’t exactly have ‘friends’ at St. Jerome’s, nor did I have enemies. I was one of those students who blended into the background, chatting with acquaintances but largely going unnoticed. This was fine by me, the less people knew me and talked to me, the fewer people would ever think there was anything criminal about me.

  Nor did I care overmuch about isolation. I’d long been used to that. Friends didn’ play much of a part in me getting me what I wanted.

  When lunch came that day I’d found an isolated spot by the side of the grounds, beneath the shade of an old tree, and did a little bit of research on my phone. Largely I was trying to see whatever public information I could about Impact, and her exploits in Lux.

  Sure enough, she wasn’t some established veteran. She made her debut five years ago, robbing armoured cars and then graduated to performing hits for Warmonger. She’d clashed with the local heroes of Lux a few times. Mainly Quickscope and Jet Jumper. But, well, most of those fights had taken place in the skies over Lux City, so finding any footage of them was a crapshoot.

  “Gotta check Masquerade, I guess,” I mumbled. Not that I could do that on my phone, and certainly not on public wifi.

  “Jess?”

  The voice, familiar, made me perk up. Only a few paces away stood a girl in the blue blazer and tartan skirt of St. Jerome’s, one I vaguely recalled seeing around the halls in the past. She wore wounded glasses on the slim bridge of her nose, her hair tied back in a tight ponytail.

  “Do I... know you?” I asked.

  “Shit, I had a feeling I’d seen you before but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It is you!” The girl grinned at me, raising her glasses. Then, to my shock, the shape of her jaw shifted a bit, and her ears raised a tiny degree higher.

  “Holy-” the little bout of shapeshifting left me blinking in surprise. “Beatrix?!”

  “Ah, the one and only,” she said, the shape of her face reverting. “Shoot. First time we met I could swore I’d seen you before. You’re in the A class, so I guess that’s why we only ever saw each other in the halls.”

  “Didn’t realise you changed your face meeting with us,” I said. But, then again, it was a smart use of her powers. Seemed she wasn’t a total scatterbrain.

  Beatrix shrugged. “I don’t wanna wear a full mask, so I gotta cover my identity somehow. Works, don’t it?” she said.

  “I can’t complain. I take it the others don’t go here?”

  “Nah. Cass and Greg go to Argent High, Sam goes to some... private school. Rich family,” she said. Somehow that didn’t surprise me. “Didn’t take you for Catholic.”

  “I’m not. This was just... more convenient for me,” I said, jerking a thumb to the building behind us. “I’m sure I’ll sound like an edgelord for saying it, but religion has never really done much for me.”

  “Eh.” Beatrix smiled wickedly. “Believe in him or not, God’s always there.”

  “An... interesting outlook, considering your occupation.”

  “I’ll be repentant when I’m on my dearth bed. That’s the kind of thing the Lord asks for. Besides, it’s not like I’ve done anything too bad.” She whipped forward, startlingly fast, and looped an arm around my shoulders. “Anyway! We should hang out after class.”

  “Hang... out?” I asked, lifting a brow. When was the last time someone had offered me that? Well, thinking along those lines made me feel a little embarrassed. “I mean... I was going to do some research for our upcoming gig, so I don’t know if I-”

  “Great! We can do that while we hang out, even if I’m not much of a ‘research’ girl. More of a ‘go with the flow’ gal, yeah? I know this great boba place only a short walk from here, you’re gonna flip.”

  I gave her a flat and uncomprehending look. “Boba?”