groovygamers.com

Late afternoon puts a frigid blue-gray cast over the school's red bricks, and anyone who ventures outside to their buses or cars does so with their heads tucked down out of the wind, moving as quickly as decorum allows.  Sylvia, immediately identifiable by the patchwork polar fleece and striped hand-knit tights, jogs up to Rob as he lingers in the shelter of the front entrance, the pages of his car magazine fluttering madly in the wind.

She sidles in close, too close for normal propriety, but it's damned cold.  She uses Rob as a windbreak.

"Hi."

"Hey."  he replies, a bright tone and a smile.  He pushes the wind blown pages of the magazine closed and jams it unceremoniously into his bag.  "I suppose if you made us think it was summer we'd still freeze to death, yeah?"  he asks with a smile, pulling his knit hat on to cover his ears.

"Sure.  But at least you'd be happy when frostbite took off your finger, toes, and whatever else was sticking out.  Chicago is the pits," she says apologetically.  "You're from around here, right?"

Rob nods.  "Spent my whole life here.  It's got some good points.  Sweltering summers, unyielding wind, frigid winters."  He pauses, "Those weren't the good points."  he says with a smile and a laugh.

"This is the point at which I'd tell you what's really great about this place, but all I'm coming up with is something lame like 'the people.'"  She gives him a beseeching look.  "The people, who are wise and knowledgeable about all things arcane.  Do you know how to hot-wire a car?"

"Hotwire?  sure.  Thinking of going into GTA as a means of making some fast cash?"  He says turning more towards her and less towards the wind.

She shakes her head.  "I figure it's something I have to learn.  It's stupid, I know, but I've been watching action-hero shows and figuring out what I need to know for the future.  Hot-wiring a car--it seems like everyone in the movies knows how to do that, so I figured it must be an important skill.  Dumb?"

"I never really figured it as one of the action hero skills."  he shrugs, "I'm cooler than I thought."  He wrestles some paper from his bag and writes an address down.  "This is my place, or you can just get Dave to bring you by.  I can show you the basics.  It's not too hard."

"Cool.  Thanks.  I don't suppose you know how to make a Molotov cocktail?"

Rob nods.  "Why aren't there more girls like you in school?"  he chuckles, "I have some anarchist books I can loan you, they have some crazy stuff like that, and a few web sites.  Mostly research I did for Greg for some of his screen play stuff."

She grimaces, feeling geeky as she pulls a stapled sheaf of print-outs from her bag.  "You know they have instructions on eHow?  The problem is that I don't know anything about cars, so I don't understand what they're saying."

Rob looks over the papers.  "Gotta love the internet."  He nods as he flips through the sheets.  "Yeah, a little hands on helps.  I can show you what some of this is and then we can practice a little.  Just drop by this weekend, I'll be home."

[Should we skip to the weekend?]

OOC: We can do that.

The Kramer's live in a nice house with a two car garage and what look like they must be superbly manicured lawns, when there isn't an inch of snow all over it.  Dave picks Sylvia up and drops her and VanGo off, heading out on foot to let Rob tune it up in exchange for the pizza he will be returning with.

Rob gets Sylvia under the dash on the driver's side while he lays on the floor on the passenger side and talks her through tracing the wires under the dash.  He gives her some pointers on what to look for, and then takes her over to the workbench where he's strung some of the previous VanGo's ignition parts together to let her practice.  "The sparks are a little scary at first."  he says as she twists, then taps the starter wires together to make the starter turn. 

Sylvia taps her torso where she's exchanged the all-over gauze for taped-over patches that cover her healing wounds.  "After laser fire sparks aren't a problem."  She leans in for a better look and makes a note on her pad.  "Who taught you how to do this kind of thing?"

"Just sort of picked it up.  Like I said, Greg was looking for someone to do research for screen plays, and I volunteered.  It sounded easier than lugging camera equipment and lights.  I just sort of got interested in cars and girls since that was what passes for porn in my dad's magazine collection."

"So why's your dad so interested in cars?  Is it just a hobby?"

"He's not really.  Just chicks in bikinis on cars."  Rob says, "Mom would probably toss a real porn mag, but Hot Rod is acceptable."

Sylvia laughs.  "Carolyn subscribes, too, but she swears it's for the articles.  I always thought I'd ask her to teach me how to fix cars, but I figured I didn't need to know until I was old enough to drive.  Do you drive?"

"Dad lets me drive out in the unfinished sub-developments sometimes.  I don't have my license yet."

"I don't suppose you know anything about combat driving?  That's another thing I figure all good superheroes need to know--how to drive at eighty miles per hour against traffic and fishtail onto an exit ramp."

"Not really.  But when we get our licenses I know a place we can go practice."  he says smiling.  "I suppose to be a good super hero, or cop, or action star, you need to know a lot of stuff."

Sylvia shrugs.  "I wish there were a list--you know, like course requirements.  Throwing a punch, check.  Leaping between buildings, check.  I know it sounds like a big joke, but someday, if I survive high school, I don't want to get to a big group like the Avengers and have them reject me because I don't know how to open a door with a credit card."

She looks at him and hazards the edges of the delicate question he's dodged so far.  "You don't think about this?  What the future's going to be like?"

"I used to, all the time.  Then things changed, and I realized that thinking about the future was making it hard for me to enjoy today."  he chuckles, "I know, sounds like it's out of a greeting card, but when I got those powers I realized I could do almost anything.  And then I kept thinking about what the witches did, and what happened to them."  Rob goes to the fridge in the garage and retrieves a couple of diet sodas, offering one to Sylvia.  "I realized that I could do a lot just by helping you guys out.  You have no idea how much that has changed Dave.  I thought, heck I could just be like the Guy Friday."

"Those powers?"  The look she gives him means she expects him to be coy, but she has to ask the question anyway.

"I don't like to talk about it.  It bothers Sammy.  They were going to sacrifice her to Meno so that I could have these powers and then I could fix them."  he shakes his head.  "I was so pissed off.  It was just another case of the fat kid getting used.  When it was all over, and I realized how badly it could have all gone, I decided that I wanted to just be helpful.  Meno said that I needed to be careful about how I used them, and so I figured if I never used them I'd be safe."  He takes a sip of soda.  "I guess I use them subconsciously sometimes.  And maybe someday they'll be gone.  But for now I'm just happy to be helping.  Being part of something as big as what you guys are all part of.  Helping people, it's enough for me I think."

Sylvia stifles her own lingering visceral anger with the girls who longed for godhood.  "Fix them?  Fix the witches?  They were evil, and they were crazy, but I didn't realize they were broken."

"Well, you guys had made it so they couldn't do whatever they wanted.  They considered that broken.  I didn't realize what the heck was going on until."  He pauses.  Sylvia realizes for the first time that she doesn't feel his thoughts in the room.  "Until I got whatever it is I got.  I guess it's like I could do the same sorts of things they could do.  Another reason I haven't wanted to.  I don't want you guys to have to keep remembering them, you know what I mean?"

"I know how that feels, a little."  She frowns, lost in thought, and shakes her head over the things she can't help.  "You know how in Spider-Man they have that catchphrase?  'With great power comes great responsibility'?  It's stupid, but I think about that a lot.  You'd think there wouldn't be much to it, but it gets me thinking about how good and evil are choices, tricky choices, and how inaction can be as irresponsible as deliberate malice.

"That's why I'm digging at this action-hero skill set.  I feel like doing this is the only right choice.  Embracing, or at least accepting, my responsibility is my only right choice.  If I'm not on top of my game, who's going to stand up to people like the witches, people like Torrance?"

She finds herself, after all this time, still dealing with it, but for whatever reason Rob seems like the right person with whom to share.  "She said something to me, something awful about how people like her and me shouldn't give a damn about anyone else.  We should have what we want, when we want it.  We should make people do as we will."  She looks up at him, a queasy tingle in her stomach.  "And for a split second it made sense.  Like, 'Why shouldn't I be Torrance?'  Why shouldn't I be Torrance Light?  Why shouldn't I make people do what I say?  I wouldn't hurt anyone, and I could have everything I ever wanted.

"That's about the time I feel like crying or throwing up," she says with detachment.

Rob nods, "Yeah.  If you could make all the bad people nice, what would it hurt right?  Then you start to think about how if you did that you'd essentially be as bad as the bad people.  Taking the choice from others, making them nothing more than an extension of your will.  I used to really want a girlfriend.  someone that just wanted to have sex with me.  and then I started thinking that no matter how cool something is, it eventually becomes dull.  I started thinking I could have any girl I wanted, all I had to do was make it happen.  Then I realized how hollow that would be.  The good guys get the short end of the stick, but I think in the end the things they go through make them better people.  And when we touch other lives in a positive way it ripples outward.  and when we touch a life in a negative way it does the same thing.  I imagine all these ripples moving outward from people, and bumping into the ripples of others.  And how everything is tied together, interconnected.  Every good deed and every evil deed.  All sort of a complex web, and how all the parts needs to be there, or the whole thing falls apart."  He takes a sip of soda.  "And then I get dizzy and fall down."  He tries to give her a reassuring smile.  "Some people say that everything happens for a reason.  I've come to think maybe that everything happens.  From the happening there are opportunities.  Those opportunities, the ones seized anyway, make other things happen.  We, well you guys, stand in the way of bad things, and hope that when the events ripple off of you that good things come about.  It sort of makes me feel like maybe, no matter what actually happens, that it's the effort that matters.  Trying to make the world a better place will.  Even if you fail at something, the ripples will make the world better."  he shrugs, "It's corny, but it's part of growing up I guess.  Realizing the world is bigger than you thought.  Bigger than you maybe like."

"I like that, the bit about how just trying makes a difference.  I'd like to believe it."

She can't quite, though, so she catches at a safer topic.  "Dude, why don't you have a girlfriend?  You're cute.  You're nice.  You've got mad skilz.  All you need to do is ask somebody."

Rob shrugs.  "I need to figure me out some before I try to figure out a girlfriend.  Besides, You're all crazy."  he says with a grin.  "I'm just gonna work on getting through my Freshman year, maybe loose some weight.  Try eating less chips.  Then maybe I'll think about a girlfriend."  He takes a drink, "Otherwise Colin will start following me around and touching me to see if a demon or something pops out."  he smiles again and takes another drink.

She squinches up her face, trying to figure that one out.  "Colin will think you're possessed because . . . ?  Oh, right.  That feels like a million years ago.

"Well, going with someone is overrated, maybe.  Donnie is great ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time, but then he has these moments when he gets crazy jealous, like someone's going to steal me away or something.  That always gets on my nerves.  Who does he think I am?  But it's impossible to reason with him about stuff like that.  He's like this big emotional bomb.  He blows, and it takes everything I've got to keep my cool."

"With great power comes great big emotional messes.  That's how the line should read.  I read this thing that says the reason we, adolescents, don't understand cause and effect is that our brain is actually physically changing.  So we go through the most socially and emotionally trying time of our lives as a bunch of mental defectives.  It's little details like that which make me doubt intelligent design."  He takes another sip, and then lobs the empty can across the garage into the recycle bin.  "Then you guys get stuck with that and super powers.  That has to be worse."

"'You guys.'  You've got that innocent act down," she chides.

"I used to think that growing up would make me magically well-adjusted, poised, and eloquent, but the inside scoop on the human brain has taught me that some forty-year-olds think and act like four-year-olds.  Telepathy is depressing.  But really, life is depressing once you really start to think about it.  We're here.  Horrible things happen to us.  And then what?"  She looks at him.  "But you're like Colin, aren't you?  You have higher purpose?"

Rob shakes his head.  "Nope.  We're all magical.  Horrible things happen.  Wonderful things happen.  same as they did before you and I were born.  Same as they will long after we're dust in the wind.  No higher purpose.  Colin might have one, or many, who knows with him.  Me, I'm just a guy who gets to have super heroes for friends.  Help them save people, be saved by them.  People, as a group, annoy me.  It's the individuals that are cool."

"I guess the sure route to unhappiness lies in expecting people as a whole to live up to some standard.  We're all nuts, but we're mixed nuts."  She takes a deep breath and finds some comfort in that.  "And Colin's higher purpose makes me twitch.  He's a good guy, but sometimes I wonder if he's good enough.  I wonder if putting your faith in something outside yourself doesn't oversimplify your sense of morality."

"Colin is a special case.  He's going to be in a storm his whole life.  And people as a whole will live up to a certain standard.  It's just not as high as you would like.  That brings us to people like you guys.  You live up to a higher standard.  Partly so other people can benefit from your good ripples, and partly so you know that there is hope.  Having faith in something outside yourself can be good too.  Relying on it and it alone is the mistake.  You know that joke about the man in the flood who keeps telling everyone God will save him?, it's like that."

"I'm just jealous," she says.  "It'd be nice to have someone always there to tell me what the right thing to do was.  It's like the Torrance thing, the difference between whether you can and whether you should do something.  I'd like it if someone ineffable would tell me it was all right to break into someone's head and find all their bad thoughts and purge them.  How freeing would that be?  I'd be a rampaging bad-ass if only I knew who deserved it and who didn't."

Rob smiles.  "Instead, you're as fallible as the rest of us.  Besides, the Blackbird doesn't tell him what's right or wrong.  It's vague and more about choice than direction.  It would drive you mad."

"How do you know?  You sound like you've got inside information."

Rob shrugs.  "Meno is like a world spirit.  Sort of like the Blackbird.  I have dreams where I can sort of talk to him, er, I guess it's a him.  Anyway.  Apparently the spirits are sort of vague because they are like concepts given form.  Language is kind of imperfect I guess."

"The English language, maybe.  The Tibetans have a word for that, Tulpa.

"I'm no expert," she says.  "I just heard about it from X-Files."

Rob shrugs.  "I'm barely passing Spanish.  English is put together funny I guess."

"I guess a Tibetan would think so.  I was reading about their--is it right to call it mythology?  Seems dismissive somehow.

"I was reading about their beliefs, and a lot of it made sense to me.  A Tulpa is--"  She shrugs, trying to straighten out what she got from her googling.  "--a way for an advanced soul to demonstrate his mastery, his freedom from and understanding of reality by committing himself so fully to a concept that it becomes tangible.  They believe that there's no substantive difference between what we see and what we only think we see."  She grins.  "The idea has some personal relevance."

"Yeah, the word mythology has become something I wonder about now.  But the Tibetan thing is kinda like what they are.  Or like the collective psychic idea.  Like if you took what everyone in the world thought of 'wisdom' and distilled it down into the purest form.  That's what some of the spirits are like.  Positive and negative concepts.  Everything sort of struggling.  Not really in balance, but struggling for it.  You know?  sometimes things are good.  Sometimes they suck."

"So in a way it's like the world wishes for a hero.  The wish produces a spirit.  The spirit finds a hero?"

Rob shrugs.  "I guess.  Nothing about this stuff seems as easy as that.  Think of Hercules.  Assume that he's not the son of a god and a human, but is given power by some spirit.  So in a way you're right, the world wishes for a hero, and the end result is one gets made."

"So how does it feel, having to live up to this?  What happens if you don't ante up?"

"I'm not under any obligation.  Meno is something else.  It's not like the other spirits, it's really hard to explain.  In a way it's just like being plugged into an outlet.  Lots of power, but if you draw too much you might blow the breaker, and there is no way to reset it."  Rob shrugs.  "Eh, that didn't come out right.  It's sort of complicated."

"I get it," Sylvia says, nodding.  "It's a test of your willpower and discretion.  Awesome cosmic power with the one small catch that you could blow your brains out your ears if you don't practice restraint.

"Donnie once told me the concept of karma is big among the mystic set.  Whatever you put out there comes back to bite you in the ass in the end.  You're like a bunny in a bear trap.  Don't move--"  She slams her clawed hands together like steel jaws.  "--and you might not get cut in half."

Rob laughs, "Not so dramatic, but something like that.  The whole karma thing and what you do with power is sort of cool in a way.  But, from some of the things I've read you can get a away with a lot of nasty stuff before you ever see anything bad.  It's not an entirely fool proof system I guess."

"What kind of reading have you done?  Did you get an instruction manual?"  She gives him an arch look.  "You're not talking about comic books, are you?"

Rob chuckles, "what, comics aren't the fountain of all truth?  don't tell Dave, he'll die."  He goes to get another diet soda, "There is a magic shop in the city, I got some stuff from there.  Over the holiday the family went to Massachusetts, so I took a bus to Miskatonic University and hit their library.  I'm not an expert or anything, but I sort of got the gist of what I was interested in."

"I have to get there someday.  I hear they have a decent collection of books on--"  Some words sound funny to her, pretentious and embarrassing, but she uses them anyway.  "--psionics.  Are you like Donnie?  You're headed for Miskatonic after high school?"

Rob scrunches his face up.  "Me, no.  I'm thinking the Automotive Institute.  Unless there is some school that will let me study girls in bikinis?"  He smiles and takes a drink of his soda.

"UC San Diego," she offers.  "Oh, I know!  The University of Hawaii."

She looks, for a moment, regretful.  "I don't think I'm going to college.  I'm starting not to see the point of formal education, and I have bigger things to deal with.  The moms are going to give me shit about it, but I'm going to try to spin it like trade school.  Only problem is I have to write away to all these different groups and see who's recruiting without coming off like a total fan-boy poser.

"'Dear Defenderz,'" she goofs, "'Booster iz so hawt!  Make me a sooperheero 2, plz11!!1!!'"

Rob laughs.  "Uhg.  what does your resume look like when you're a super hero?  'Defeated Doctor Crazy.  Saved Kitten from drain pipe.  Implemented new filing system in Lair.'  Who could take you seriously if you had to go about being a hero like other people looked for work and stuff?"

"I need the group, though.  Like Jakob?  Jakob could go out and stalk alleys and kick ass and never have to worry about getting knifed in the back by some punk who's lucky enough and stupid enough to get it done.  I'm fragile.  I need muscle around me.

"Look at me."  She points at the scars on her arm.  "Acid."  She lifts her shirt a little.  "Lasers.  Not to mention the bruises and pulled muscles and broken toes.  I'm going to be hobbling around with a cane by the time I'm thirty.  I figure, if I wear a monocle and talk with a foreign accent I can go for the Professor X vibe instead of looking just plain feeble."

"Well, you have your action-hero skills thing.  That might make things easier the more of that you get under your belt."  Rob takes another drink.  "Maybe you can conduct a chorus of minions like Dave.  sit in your lair with a hundred TV monitors and tell other people where to go, and maybe play some XBox during the slow times."  He grins, "That would be my perfect job.  Phone answering and playing the XBox."

She smiles.  "When I get my secret lair, I'll make you my receptionist.  The sound effects in the background will make me sound more professional."  She mimics him.  "'Professor Mysteriosa's lair.  One moment, please.'"  She brings up her hands in X-Box position and makes explosive noises.  "'She can't come to the phone right now.  Can I take a message?'"

"Exactly!"  Rob exclaims, "It'll give you an air of credibility, and I'll get some use out of the thousands of hours of console game experience I have."

She grins broadly.  "Does that make you my first minion?"

Rob smiles, "I'll happily be your first minion.  I'll just list you as Mastermind on my resume under group affiliations."

She laughs and throws up her hands in ironic jubilation.  "Why do we live this crazy life?  Who installed the magnet for stupid and mean at Oak Park High?

"Have you seen that show Gossip Girl?  The one that came out this year?  I sat through the pilot with Ginny in September, and it was stupid.  Lots of pretty girls in pretty dresses talking like morons.  Lately I find myself sitting through whole episodes wishing that was all I had to deal with.  If my whole life was about keeping my boyfriend and dealing with shitty friends, school would be Disneyland.

"So I find myself at lunch trying to be--I don't know--trying to be Sarah.  Trying to be Sammy.  Trying to be less moody and more bouncy and not quite as crazed about all the mental static I'm getting.  I'm trying to be a simpler person, leading a simpler life, and it never works.  So I thought, 'Fuck it.'  I'm not the head cheerleader.  I'm not the homecoming queen.  I'm pretty much stuck with this--"  She taps her forehead.  "--so I'd better live the life.  I'd better embrace it.

"That's why we're here, doing this."  She gestures at the starter mechanism.

"Well, think of how shitty it would be for a bunch of other people if all the weird stuff that was happening here was spread out.  Now imagine you guys were still all here.  You'd have nothing to worry about, and people all over would be ass deep in this stuff and no one would be there to stop it.  I'm glad you guys were there for me.  At the time I thought you all sucked."  He smiles, "But I got smarter, and then pow, I got the whammy again.  I figured something strange was in the cards for me.  Probably hanging around with Sarah all those years and her trying to move stuff with her mind."

Sylvia laughs.  "She has someone she talks to, too, doesn't she?  Is that another spirit?"

Rob shakes his head.  "No, that's."  he stops to consider it.  "I don't really get it.  She's described it like a guy that's got no body and knows stuff.  I let the matter drop.  I had my sanity to consider."

Sylvia is still chuckling.  "I guess you have to be Sarah to handle the unfathomable truth.

"I had someone who talked to me, too, but he went and ditched me.  Last I heard, he's in Greece saving the world one hit at a time, and he's picked up some new teenage sidekick.  I've been totally Bucky Barnes'd."  She wouldn't be able to talk like such a comic-book geek if it weren't for Donnie's conviction that every budding hero needs to know the core mythologies.

"Personal observation, but I'm not sure the role model of a teen aged girl hero should be a guy who spent a lot of time in an asylum, of his own choosing, that wasn't like an employee of same, if you follow me."  He takes a sip of his soda, smiling over the edge of the can.  "There has to be someone out there you can chat with on the mental friends network?  Maybe there are psychic chat rooms or something.  Maybe a Restaurant at the End of the Universe in Astral space or something.  I could look and see if there is some stuff on the internet.  People there say all kinds of crazy stuff.  some of it is even true."

"He's a good guy," Sylvia says with genuine affection.  "I miss him.

"But seriously?  Psychic chat rooms?  Sounds risky.  I've met three psychics so far, not counting Sarah--crazy Torrance, my so-called crazy friend, and a woman who used her mental powers to get a second look at out-of-her-league butts.  We're not a savory bunch."

"Well.  All girls are crazy, and he was in an asylum.  maybe the psychic thing is for the crazy people.  Or I should say the people for who crazy is normal."  He's smiling, and it's plain to see he's enjoying picking on Sylvia some.

She sticks out her tongue and tries to hide her smile behind pique.  "Sanity is overrated.  I used to worry about it back when all this was just starting, but now I file it under 'Things Over Which I Have No Control.'  If this is Oz, at least I'm the one with the flying monkeys."

"And having the flying monkeys is always better than being who cleans up the flying monkey poop."

"This from the guy who wants to be my minion."

"Your first minion!"  He raises a finger.  "I will assign monkey poo cleaning to the second minion."

She laughs.  "I'll open recruitment immediately.  The goal is to have enough minions that we could rob a bank but not so many that we need a dental plan."

"Yeah, once you have to start doing paperwork for health care the fun goes right out."