Queens of the Underground

Chapter 2

Becky had always been a performer at heart. As a child, she would put on little performances for her parents, playing all the parts and jumping from place to place on the makeshift stage as she changed characters, complete with new voices and occasionally funny hats. She wasn't an athletic kid by any means, but the theatrical nature of wrestling intrigued her, and the storytelling aspects were still her favourite parts of any feud: in her experience, it was far easier to learn a new move than to give a convincing promo. It certainly explained why some very physically talented wrestlers never reached the pinnacle of the business while some who were less talented in the ring but excellent on the microphone carved a path to the top.

She normally tried to view her work with The Fathoms in much the same way: a performance. She certainly wasn't a regular, and because she wasn't a full-blooded banshee, her powers were diluted. Since she wasn't in high demand, Becky could normally get away with with more casual attire, but Francesca had been in a mood that night and demanded everyone at least try to the look the part of magic incarnate—while looking, of course, directly at Becky. She had never imagined she would see Seth—or almost any other wrestler, for that matter—at a gathering, but naturally he had to show up on the night where she was dressed in something she would never dare wear in the ring, because it practically screamed wardrobe malfunction imminent.

Becky was almost tempted to hurry after Pietro and Nissa, but they were already halfway to the stairs and Seth was right there, looking at her like she was an alien. Well, I did just tell him I'm a banshee, she reasoned. Out loud, she added, "Descended from banshees. I'm certainly not a full-blooded one."

Seth's eyebrows furrowed. "Aren't those the hags who foretell death?" He must have seen something in her expression that made him wary, because he quickly added, "Not that you're a hag or anything...."

"Most banshees foretell death, yes." Becky hopped back up on her stool. Francesca and the other memory workers were all busy with clients, tucked back in the shadows while they sifted through people's brains and plucked out memories like stray hairs. "But like I said, I'm not a full banshee. My powers... work a bit differently." She hoped Seth would leave it at that—maybe even leave the armory completely, and never bring up their chance meeting, but she knew better. Once Seth got something in his head, he held on to it forever. Hence why he's here, Becky thought with a tinge of sympathy. He was hardly the only wrestler to have photos leaked, but most of the others had gone through their period of frustration and anger and gradually come to terms with it. Seth never really had. "Rather than foretelling death," Becky explained slowly, "I can... sort of cause it. But not to people!" She held her hands up quickly, forgetting her shawl, and Seth lunged forward to catch it. "I can deaden pain, mostly." Then she gave a dry chuckle. "Considering our line of work, it's not such a bad power."

Seth started to reach for the other stool behind the booth, but stopped himself. "May I?" When Becky nodded, he sat down, and she missed her brief height advantage immediately; the stool hadn't even made her taller than Seth, but it had been nice to not have to crane her neck to meet his gaze. "Do your powers not work on you, then?" he asked, handing her shawl back to her. "Because I remember you getting injured in matches...."

Becky blushed a bit as Seth rattled off various injuries she had suffered. Most of them were minor, but he remembered them better than she did. "They don't," she confirmed, "and I'm always careful not to use my powers too much backstage." She held out her left hand to showcase the silver cuff on her wrist. "That's why I'm always wearing bracelets at signings or the gauntlets in the ring. They keep my powers in check. I'll come to gatherings like this once a month or so to use my powers safely, because there's always someone here who can help if... things go wrong."

"But I've seen you give bracelets away to kids at signings," Seth pointed out, leaning forward.

Becky nodded, squirming a bit on her stool. Why was he asking so many questions? If he was in such a rush to forget, why wasn't he asking to have his memory numbed so he could just leave? "I'm always careful which I give away. I tend to wear the amulet bracelets on my right wrist, and I always make sure I'm wearing more than one just in case. They can't harm humans at all," she assured him. Then she forced herself to sit up straighter as she wrapped the shawl around her shoulders again. "So I can't erase or remove your memories, but I can sort of... numb them. They'll still be there, but they won't hurt as much when you think of them. Sorry I can't do more. I know there's another gathering the weekend we're in New York, and it's not fully booked yet." Maybe if she gave him an option, he would take it. "I could get you in with Francesca then. She's really good—"