Chapter 4: The Mission

Then something different comes near her in the darkness. “Hello? Is someone there?” It doesn’t answer. “Are you friend or foe?” Again, it says nothing. Instead it draws nearer not in a fast or scary way but rather in a slow inspection. “Since you aren’t trying to hurt me, I’ll take you as a friend.” Another silence but this one isn’t frightening since someone else is there. “I don’t suppose you know how to work thing do you?” Randi sighs as she doesn’t get an answer, “I didn’t think so.”

“Well, Tracey knows I’m here, so she’ll probably save me soon if I – we can’t figure this out. In the meantime, you mind if I just talk? It’s nice having you here. I think I’d have totally broken down if you hadn’t shown up. I kinda wish I could turn on the lights around here so I could see who I’m talking to. But since I can’t –”

A very faint voice mumbles something. Randi stops talking to try to hear it. The tone is of one who is agitated. The words are unclear, but there is a conversation going on. The other party can’t be heard at all. “Is that Tracey’s voice? She’d certainly be frustrated at my lack of movement. But who is she talking to?”

A heated argument breaks out, or at least that what she thinks she's hearing. The only two words she can make out are eyes and mouth.

She is answered a moment later when a loud male voice resounds though the metal parts of her brain, “Use the phrase, ‘Vocalizer activate.’" That sounds like the old inventor guy.

"Vocalizer activate?” Nothing seems to happen. The dull argument continues. She feels her companion depart as if startled by the sudden noise. Randi doesn't worry about it much since someone can talk to her and she can tell Tracey is nearby.

Just as sudden as before, the argument stops and Tracey's voice amplified speaks, “Say something, Randi.”

"Something?" The voices cool a little which means Randi can't make out a thing they are saying. This time though she does manage to translate another word from the muffled speak. Ear.

The booming voice returns, “If you can hear me then it worked. Try ‘Auditory Sensors, activate.’”

“Auditory Sensors, activate.” Sound comes crashing in.

Tracey and her boss are arguing. “That’s it? Who in their right mind would think of that as a turn on switch?”

“It seemed logical to me at the time I invented it.”

Darkness still surrounds her, but the voices comfort her. "Randi, can you hear me?"

"Yes."

She hears the old man again, "See? I told you we needed to get an output and input activated first."

"You're right, but she is blind and probably freaking out. Right, Randi?"

"Not anymore."

"Good. Then I don't need this anymore." The sounds of something heavy clatters on the floor.

"Doctor Cod."

"What? It fell off."

"How do we unlock her eyes?"

“Young lady, I think the phrase is ‘Optical Array, activate.’”

Randi repeats it, and light floods in. It takes a moment for the sensor to automatically adjust to the increased luminosity, but when they do, Randi sees Tracey standing over her, “Can you see me?”

"Yes."

Tracey’s head whips to just south of Randi’s face, “That is weird that her lips didn’t move. Speaking of which, how does she move, Doc?”

“That is a good question. I don’t know.”

Both females reply together, “What?”

“I didn’t invent the Angstroms until after the Positronic Brain. If you say you connected them, then they are connected. But I don’t know how she would access them.”

“Okay, Randi, you heard the Doc. They are there. You just need to figure the rest out. I’m sure you’ll be able to figure this out.” She looks away and then back with a spark in her eye, “Consider this a superheroic challenge. Get this and you are a superhero. While you work on that, I’ll be over here keeping watch.” Tracey disappears in the direction of the top of her head.

Randi stares at the ceiling. Her eyes lose focus as she switches to her mind's eye. Instead of darkness, monochrome green and black displays show that eyes, ears, and voice are working. But those displays are higher up with nothing below them as if a body goes there. Mentally, she circles her face. A quiet buzz answers her. Okay. If you are what I think you are, I call you “Face.” The display lights up around the eyes and ears and almost reaches the mouth which appears below the chin. Next she gathers the neck, labels them, and adds them to the display. In short order her whole body is on the display.

That’s more like it. Now for some movement. She moves her arms up from her sides. Upon re-opening her eyes she sees them on her periphery. Okay, this might be a little tricky. I’ll just use the technique I use to get out of bed quick. Then she adds, When I actually use the bed. She moves her legs straight up. Once she sees them as confirmation that this is working, she brings them down to her left.

Her body begins to rotate and she uses her momentum and throws her legs toward their original direction. Now normally, this would cause Randi to sit up with legs dangling over the side of the bed. However, her legs refuse to bend at the edge of the table and use it as a fulcrum to toss her body off.

Time slows down for Randi. She watches as the former store rises and turns until she finally stops face down in a push up position. Her hands and feet register a quick yellow pain and return to the normal green. “Randi, are you okay?” Tracey’s voice rushes to her side.

“Yeah. I have no pain sensors, so I wasn’t hurt at all. But I have some adjustments to make.” Joints are added as subsets of the various parts she previously named. It takes a little effort and a few more tweaks, but Randi is soon on her feet and walking around the tables.

Before Randi can wonder where the old man went, the radio near both ladies crackles to life. A velvety voice with a Mexican accent call for a patrol car. Once they respond, she says, “We’ve got a silent alarm at First Community Bank.” They acknowledge.

Randi looks at Tracey, “Is that a police scanner?”

“Of course. How else is Rubberta going to find criminals to bring to justice?”

“Really?” Randi is bouncing on her feet.

“Really. And First Community is only a few blocks away. Go get ‘em, Rubberta.”

And with only a pause for the automatic doors to open, Rubberta rushes to the scene of the crime. On the way, she tries stretching her legs for a longer stride and finds it works so long as she doesn’t stretch them too far. That left her looking down on roofs and moving her legs fast to keep from falling over.

Upon arriving, she 'shrinks' back down to her normal size and spots the first police car, probably the one she heard over the radio. With dreams of how these men will applaud her in a few moments as she carries her prize out, she heads past them and right into the bank.

Rubberta stops cold.

There in front of her is quite the sight to behold. Sure, there are people scattered all over the floor flush with limbs splayed. Nervous cashiers with their hands in the air. The lone manager peeking around a corner pulls on his collar to get a little air. But those are not what arrested her attention.

In the middle of the room swinging his pistol toward her is a wall of a man. The first thing that draws her eyes besides the mass of muscles is the green beret on his head worn in proper military style. Then she spots the scars on his face, one over his right eye and the other on his left cheek along the jaw line. Next is the bandolier of pistol clips diagonal across his rock hard pects and solid six pack. His old school camo pants end in his military issue steel toed boots.

With the gun pointed at her, she slips into a quick daydream. Her punch to his midsection. That’s all it should take. He topples in her imagination, having lost his balance from her fist in his gut. A funny look on his face with his lips flapping from the exploding exhale as she knocks the wind out of him. Yeah, let’s go with Plan A.

She curls her fingers and launches a shot at his stomach. In this case when an irresistible force meets an immovable object, her fist flattens. Her daydream gets a crack. Uh, uh. Plan B! What is plan B? That Sailor Man on TV!

He chuckles at her, “What was that? Were you tickling me?”

Rubberta retracts her fist and takes a deep breath. Commanding her innards, she forces the air to her arm. Then she twists her own arm causing the pressure to increase bulging her bicep and tricep out giving it a nice bubble-like shape. With the corkscrew at her elbow she launches another assault.

The fist hits its mark and flattens again. The twist in her joint transfers to her wrist as the spinning forearm does nothing to help. This. This is not going according to plan. Her dreams begin to splinter into a spider web design.

“Is that the best you got? Then it’s my turn.” He shoots her once in the chest. She tenses her muscles that she doesn’t have and the bullet punctures her body and passes through. “Well, that didn’t work.” He holsters his gun and makes his own fist.

Meanwhile, outside the bank a final car pulls up to the dozens of others each with police officers surrounding them with weapons drawn and pointed at the bank doors. The newest arrival steps out of the vehicle. His muscular legs from many a soccer game are hidden by navy slacks. Strong abs, but not as strong as those of the robber inside, are covered by the rest of the three piece suit. His serious, tanned face scans the scene as the purple form inside slams into the bank doors and slides down.

“What do we know,” he asks someone nearby.

“Well, one robber and one hero, I guess. She’s not that good, though, Detective.” He gets a stern gaze and returns to the facts, “There are about fifteen hostages including three tellers and the bank manager.”

The muscular man from the inside steps up to the doors and grabs the purple girl with one hand and throws her over his shoulder to somewhere deeper in the bank. The detective asks, “That him?”

“Yes, Sir.” They watch as the robber turns to see where she lands. Then he heads in after her.

“Let’s get him now before he gets his gun out. Go, go, Go!” The army of police officers rushes forward. Right as the officers reach the entry, the muscled thief returns with a bag of money and exits without looking. The door breaks its spring-loaded hinges and tosses a couple officers up and over the rest of the group. Now in a semicircle, the muscled man turns his attention to them. They all take a step back to get out of range while continuing to cover him with their guns.

The detective still at his vehicle mumbles to himself, “Why him? Why today? I hope he goes without a fight.”

The crook takes a step and falls on his face. Each foot is gripped by a lavender hand. After a moment of inactivity, the hands release and slither back like moon walking snakes. Rubberta stands and finishes collecting her limbs. Eyes darting back and forth she realizes the only exit is the front door.

She exits and then lengthens her legs to step over the group still covering the unmoving criminal. She spots a hunky man in a suit saying, “Maxwell Force, you are under arrest.” And that’s all it takes for panic to grasp her heart in a death grip. She races away as fast as she can without looking where she is going.

---

Someone knocks at her door. Rubberta curled and crunched as much as she can be calls out to the door, “Go away.”

She resumes her nervous rocking in her plush recliner chair facing a television that is off. The knock returns. “I said, ‘Go AWAY.’”

This time the one behind the door doesn’t bother knocking, “Randi, either you let us in, or I’ll use my key.”

Her vision of her door is replaced by memory. Face to face with the man and his snarl. Displays show red all over especially at her neck where his hand is clenched. His eyes weighing her and judging her worthless. And then the swirl of floor following ceiling and furniture.

A sudden alert pulls her out. The left side of the face registers a yellow that fades to green. Her eyes focus on what’s in front of her.

Three faces of her friends look at her worried. Tracey speaks first, “Randi, are you okay? We haven’t heard from you in two days.”

The black haired Natalie looks to one side, “I don’t know why I’m here.”

Monique with her gray eyes searches Randi’s own, “What is it, Dear? What happened?”

Before the purple superheroine can respond or drift back into the scary daydream, the strawberry blond interrupts, “Yeah, why haven’t you been answering –”

Monique silences her with a hand. All eyes turn to Randi and wait.

Unwrapping her arms from her legs and sighing, Rubberta begins, “I was wrong. Wrong about being a superhero. Wrong about everything.”

“Wrong?”

“I thought that being a superhero would be easy. That it would be all smiles and awards and people cheering for me. I was wrong. Being a superhero is terrifying.” Her body shivers to confirm her statement. Tracey raises an eyebrow on the automatic-ness of that gesture.

Again the mothering voice of concern from Monique asks, “Terrifying?”

If she were human her eyes would have glazed over but as she is, they just lock in place. The scarred face of the man and all his muscles fills her vision. “Him. I never expected him.”

The sullen and monotone Natalie speaks up, “Him? You mean Maxwell Force?” Randi nods. “But you caught him.”

“Only by luck.” Randi sees herself wrapping her legs around the floor safe that she crashed into on the cashier’s side of the bank and pushing her stretchy body to its limit in a desperate attempt to do something, anything.

“Then what about him? I don’t understand.”

Randi struggles for words, “He. Muscles. I couldn’t do anything to him. Everything I tried, failed. And everything he did to me worked.” She lowers her legs. “He even shot me.” She points to the black hole in her purple suit. “I couldn’t do anything to him.” Her words begin to trail off. “I was totally useless …” Her head lowers.

“Randi,” Monique begins.

“You are not useless,” Tracey interrupts, “You got him. It’s all over the news. In fact, there’s a detective looking for you.”

Everyone’s heads snap to look at her, Randi startled, Monique glaring, and Natalie with an eyebrow raised.

Fury fills Monique’s face. With a single gesture, she makes her feelings clear, “Out.”

“Awwwww …” Tracey slinks out of the room, chastised.

Natalie shrugs and follows. Over her shoulder, she calls back, “You did good out there. I hope you feel better soon.”

Alone at last, Monique places her hands on Randi’s shoulders. “Randi dear, it’s okay. We’ll get through this. Tracey’s right. You aren’t useless. And even though you caught him accidentally or however, you still caught him. That makes you a hero in my book. And now that the peanut gallery isn’t in the room, you want to tell me about it?”

With every word, the panic of Tracey’s statement fades. Randi nods, and pours out the details including the how ineffective she was against the villain and how imposing he was.

“Soooo, his just being there threw you off?”

“And that I couldn’t do anything against him,” Rubberta adds.

Monique giggles a little, “Randi, do banks rob themselves? Do cars steal themselves? People do these things. And they don’t want to stop. So, they will oppose you and you will have to stop them. And effective? That’s no problem. You will learn and get stronger. And remember Superman has Doc Oct.”

Randi chuckles at her friend’s mismatch, “You mean, Spiderman and Doc Oct.”

Monique catches the giggles, “Oh, did I get it wrong?” The other nods. Their laughing sets each other off until they are in an uncontrollable fit.

Tracey peeks in, “Ummm, can we go now? After this weekend, we should probably wake Randi’s real body up.”

Rubberta seizes up. Panic returns to her eyes. “No.  I can’t go back.”

Natalie pushes the stunned Tracey into the room so she can poke her head in, “Why not? Your muscles stop working?”

“N-No. I shouldn’t leave here. It’s safe.” Monique’s head tilts to one side in confusion. Tracey looks to Natalie.

Natalie speaks up, “Randi, or maybe I should call you Miss Tendere, tomorrow is Monday. Someone needs to get back to her job.”

“No. What will happen if I go back to –”

Tracey interrupts, “I was afraid of this.” Turning to the others she explains, “I didn’t check the battery levels when I installed her ears and eyes. It looks like the mouth just ran out of power.” Then to herself, “Hmmmm, I’ll have to fix that.”

They can’t hear me? Oh no, what am I going to do? Hoping her body language and moving lips convey her questions, she questions them with her face as she asks and points. Mid gesture her mouth and arm freeze up.

“And there goes the rest of her. I guess we’ll have to carry her back to the –” Her ears join the increasing unresponsive parts. Randi gets lifted up and faces the backside of Tracey and the floor when her eyes shut down.

Internally, the displays darken. In the dim light, despair returns to join her fear. And that’s when she feels the presence again. This time it is closer. And just being there comforts her and allows her to push back.