Battery City Rebels: Part One

The safe house was, thankfully, empty when they returned. The medical supplies were kept in an outside fridge that stayed running thanks to solar panels. The weapons were unloaded beneath the stairs in the basement. And Fun Ghoul took all the machinery to a detached shed on the other side of the yard. The rest of them sorted through clothes, choosing what they could use and what they could trade.

"What do you want to do with the rest of the stuff in that basement?" Poison asked while they made piles of items in the living room. "The rest of those medical supplies won't last long once the stored energy runs out. We don't have enough room to keep everything here. And no transport van to get it somewhere better quickly."

"Let Chow Mein have it. Or send someone in to take it if you know anyone. Cherry Cola might have a use for it. Or at least know where to take it. There isn't anything left that I want or need, and the building is compromised. So I won't be going back."

"Even though no one knew about the basement?"

"I'm sure they'd find out about it if I kept using it."

"Probably smart to stay away." He set down a raggedy shirt of Midnight's and went to one of the packs piled up beneath the table. He pulled out an old radio phone and wound it up. "This is Poison. I have supplies for you," he spoke to whoever was on the other end. "Midnight's Church, there's a basement loaded with supplies and equipment. The entrance is under a block of wood in the kitchen pantry." He smiled and then turned to look at Indigo. "We have Indigo. She's giving us permission... She's right here if you don't believe me. You wanna talk to her?" There was a moment when he didn't talk. He merely scrutinized her. "She's a kid. How old are you anyway?" He nodded toward her.

"Old enough," she replied.

"Sounds like something a kid would say. What is it? Eighteen? Nineteen?"

"Twenty-two."

"She's twenty-two. Give or take a few years. Too young for you, old man." She set her hands on her hips.

"Who are you talking to anyway?"

"You know Doctor Deathdefying?"

"Not personally."

"He knows you. But don't worry. He likes them older."

"Gross."

She decided she was done with her task and gathered up her things. Then she carried them down the stairs to hide them away in Ghoul's room. It was a temporary arrangement, but she didn't want to leave her private things on the top floor.

Fun Ghoul came down while she was sorting her items. She had the contents of her bag spread out across his bed. He was holding a small portable radio, which he stuck on the table and turned on. It was in the middle of a song.

"Hope you don't have any plans to return to your church," he said, busying himself with the items he'd collected. "Because it'll be empty by nightfall."

"Did Deathdefying put the word out?"

"He did. It'll help a lot of people. Even though it hurts." She shrugged and went back to her task. "He said you sounded feisty."

"Have to be when you're a demolitions expert with a record for ghosting dracs, and all anyone cares about is whether or not you're old enough to be objectified."

"Fair enough." There was a pause as they kept busy and ignored each other. Or at least she was ignoring him. And she only noticed that it wasn't reciprocated because she turned around and caught him watching her.

"What?" she asked. He shrugged and returned to what he was doing, keeping his thoughts to himself.

"You know—for a while there, they didn't believe you were who you claimed to be." Now her eyebrows furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

"We've met women before who claim to be you."

"Why would anyone claim to be me?"

"Deathdefying makes shitty jokes sometimes, but no one wants to cross you. It's not your body or your age that people notice out here. Your name is a shield. No one would want to hurt someone who could blow them up."

"Oh," she said. She turned back to her clothes. "In that case, they're welcome to keep using it."

"No one's ever actually seen you. Not knowingly, anyway. We've heard stories about people who've claimed to see you riding your bike down Route Guano or stopping by Chow Mein's for gas or cigarettes. Always masked and covered."

"So naturally, your friends thought I was lying."

"I didn't."

"Why?"

"How you act. The women we meet who use your name wear it differently. They either act tough to compensate or don't and hope the name alone will protect them. You're the only one who's ever owned it. Not to mention, you know more about Midnight than anyone else. Everyone knows Indigo is Midnight's daughter, but no one knew much about either of you. Taking you back to the church today was a test."

"I must have passed."

"Seems that way to me."

"Indigo is an identity I built for myself. I don't need the name to protect me. And I don't have to prove anything to anyone. I honestly don't know why I'm even still here. I have what I need to make it on my own. I can find a new base. I have connections. Also, people have seen me." She shot him another look. "We have the same connections. Same friends. Cola has known me since I was a kid. We go to the same shows."

"Cola is good at keeping secrets." He pushed away from the wall to come stand beside her. He stood close enough that she could feel the desert heat radiating off him after a day in the sun. "Why are you sticking around then? Is there something else you want?" She didn't know if he meant it the way he said it.

"I haven't figured that out yet."

"I hope you know that I'd—none of us—would ever objectify you. I know Deathdefying made a stupid joke, but none of us feel that way about you."

"Except you?"

"You're right. I've made a few comments too."

"Just a few." He smiled.

"And you made them right back." She turned back to folding, not wanting him to see the rush of heat in her cheeks. Thankfully, it was probably hidden beneath the sunburn. "I didn't mean to be an asshole. If I came off that way, I'm sorry. You just, uh—you're pretty." She snorted and looked at him.

"Pretty?" Now he was the one who was trying not to blush. He shrugged.

"Lonely out in the desert, Indigo. You know that."

"So why you and not them?"

"Kobra has a wife, actually. Jet Star has a—connection, so to speak. Poison has a past."

"And what do you have?" He shrugged and stepped back.

"Just me," he said. "I'm going to find something to eat. Wanna help?"

"Sure—I guess so."