SmackDown: MadMike's Revenge!

Redemption Duel 1: Calypso - @parishsp

Calypso

by parishsp

Callie timed it perfectly.

She had been scouting Acme, Inc. for a month now, and she thanked the stars for the established routine of the scientific elite.

She squeezed in behind the last employee as he allowed the door to shut. Three days a week, the same pony-tailed, lanky scientist was the last to leave. His starched white coat was folded neatly over his arm, a blue flannel scarf securely wrapped around his neck in an effort to ward off the late-night chill. He was whistling a familiar tune that Callie had yet to identify. You could set your watch by his habits, and Callie had.

The door shut behind her, security lighting dimly illuminating the white floor and marble walls of Acme Inc.'s lobby. The walls' sleek screens were fixed on the company's logo as it was after hours. Physically, Callie was there, standing, waiting; but only barely.

She took a deep breath as she guided her vibrating muscles, toning each of them to the same frequency. She sighed a small sigh of satisfaction as the 640-piece symphony fell into perfect harmony.

While Callie was tuned in as Bernard called it, the naked eye saw only a blur. Infrared, cameras, motion sensors, and other types of heat and visual technology saw nothing. The rapid movement of her hovering muscles distorted wavelengths on such a sophisticated level that neither Bernard nor anyone at Trè Travail had saw fit to refer Callie for the third and final level of transmutation. Two levels seemed to have done the trick, and they were concerned that a third go would ruin the delicate balance that Callie's body and mind currently maintained. Of course, with a near perfect record at Supe Level One, Callie had committed herself to ensuring she stayed out of the labs.

Even with her record, Callie wasn't on top. She was third in the top rankings Trè Travail. Number one and two had been on top for so long that the others settled to fight for third. Number one and two—Callie thought, bouncing on her toes as the thought intruded in on her steel-like focus—Butch and James. Don't forget Butch and James.

Callie counted to three and zipped across the lobby, down a side hallway, past a secondary waiting room and came to a stop in front of a door labeled, Access Card Entry Only. The multi-colored hue of Callie's suit flashed in the corner of her specs for a spilt second before she swiped the pony-tailed employee's badge in front of the card reader. It beeped once before Callie slid inside.

Callie's most prized possession was her suit. Bernard had made it special for her, to amplify her talents. The Coat of Many Colors, or COM as the boys had begun calling it, was an engineering feat of sheer magnificence. Bernard knew Callie's strengths depended on her ability to go unseen and fast; a suit that did anything less was unacceptable.

He'd blended the materials into a piece of wearable art—one that hugged her subtle curves in a vast array of colors. Colors that, when initiated by her natural vibrations allowed her to proceed unseen and equipped with some modicum of protection.

Callie chuckled silently to herself as she remembered the look on the boys' faces when Bernard presented her with the suit. The smile quickly faded as Callie crossed into the stairwell—the reality of the situation rattling like a stone in her chest. The boys. It had been seven weeks, two days since she had seen them. Since anybody had seen them...

The seven Level One Supes sat at the fiberglass-topped table, dressed as civilians—which they technically were. Civilians with super powers that had been honed through the three-step transmutation at Trè Travail. These seven were the lucky ones—the ones who hadn't ended up disfigured and mainly in tact physically, mentally and emotionally. They were the minority; a reality that tainted the accomplishments. For some.