VIXEN - The Legend of the Five Totems

Chapter 5 - Fitting Pieces Together

Buddy Baker comes to on a cot. He is sporting a headache the likes of which he hasn't experienced in many years, not since his adventures carried him before that car that ran him over. It was said that he had died in that accident, but his connection to the morphogenetic field sustained his spirit until his body could be revived. Going from no physical nothingness to life was quite the shock – and this reminds him of that strange part of his life all too well. Even if it is only from the sheer agony roiling around in his head. The room is dark, but there is a blanket on him and the pillow is soft. His denim jacket has been draped over a wooden chair off by a small wooden desk, and he is dressed in the blues and whites of his Animal Man costume. It is a strange thing to come to dressed in vastly different clothing than he knew he was last in, but he has been doing this hero thing long enough now to understand that it is an occupational hazard of the kind that comes with telepathic apes. He is thankful that the monster and his allies had the decency to clothe him for battle.

The table lamp on the desk is dusty from lack of use and the scent of mothballs is strong in his nose. He clicks the tiny knob dial and is pleased to see that the proprietor of this place uses low watt bulbs. Even so, the sudden explosion of light blasting into the dark room from the lamp makes his eyes scrunch as they try to adjust. When that happens, he finds that whoever has left him in this room has left him a small glass of water and some aspirin in a sealed packet.

"Thanks, whoever you are," he says, ripping open the packet and swallowing the pills back. The room is otherwise pretty bare save for a half dozen taped shipping boxes. The door to the outside slides easily on its track. He steps out into a hallway that is less dated and more in line with the technology of a secret hideout. His explorations from here are less of the cautious type, and more of the curious type. There are voices down the hallway, past another couple of simple sliding doors, and in a much larger room filled with computer bays and terminals. It is the kind of place that a police department would kill for the resources to have, or else something akin to a science fiction set of a film that he might do stunts for. Around the terminals are several people.

"Animal Man, you're awake," a dark skinned young woman says to him. She is a dressed in a dark tan leather outfit that makes the animal rights activist in him uncomfortable. As she turns to face him, the various colored lights of monitors and ceiling-borne track lighting glint off the bronze of a totem she wears above a golden swath of color down the front of her tunic. Buddy has seen her on television once or twice; it has been enough to identify her as someone who is out to fight the good fight.

"Vixen, is it?" Buddy asks, looking the other people here over. Like Vixen, they make him feel old. None of the three women could be more than their mid-twenties. The blond with the pixie-cut hair looks the youngest in face despite the lines of life struggle that have carved their way into pale flesh at the corners of her eyes. Like him, she has sheathed herself in blue, though hers is darker, more world-weary, and it lacks the whites of his sleeves and gloves and the giant letter that streaks up his chest. It is a bare costume, functional in covering the body and in keeping its wearer warm. Sadly, either it or she has gone just a little too long without a good rinsing. She is heavy with the stink of rotting food, filth, and stale cooking ingredients, most prevalent of which is the garlicy scent of her own body mixed with real garlic.

The third female in the room has the world-weary look of someone who has watched her home slowly slip deeper and deeper into poverty, crime and abandonment. Her black, curly hair is clipped tight to the back of her head, where it is quite secure and out of the way. Like Vixen, she is dressed in a leather jacket, one that makes him wonder why every metahuman in recent years has to monopolize on the carved carcasses of defenseless animals for their wardrobes. At least the jacket looks warm, and its dark green compliments the slightly creamier brown of her skin, giving her a distinctive look despite the simplicity of her uniform. Or so he thinks, as he takes in the bright red and white sneakers on her feet. They are the kind of bright things that are built for breathability and lightness of foot. As she is seated at one of the computer banks in this spacious room, he did not notice their brightness at first. Knowing that Vixen is a meta, he wonders what this intriguing young woman's powers are.