8FOLD/HCC: Journey Into # 20, "Her Face In My Mirror"

Tom Russell joltcity at gmail.com
Mon Feb 2 19:15:12 PST 2015

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            ~BY TOM RUSSELL~

- Kate Morgan, DR. METRONOME II.
  Can phase through matter.
  Concert pianist, aged 28 in 2013.
- Kate's siblings and wards:
  - Simon Morgan, aged 18.
    Knows Kate's secret identity.
  - Calliope Morgan, this close to 16,
    practically an adult already so
    just leave me alone.
- The Bethanys, Kate's two best friends,
  both of whom know her secret identity:
  - Bethany Proust, 36, homicide detective,
    formerly Kate's babysitter, called
    "Bethany One".
  - Bethany Clayton, KNOCKOUT MOUSE, 30,
    like Kate, a member of the Daylighters.
    Called "Bethany Two."

              I. ALLEGRO

Mercy Hospital, Chicago, June.
   Kate can almost see the resemblance. She's not sure if the face is
the same or not, but underneath the bruises, reds and purples so dark
as to be almost black, she does have Kate's milk-white skin. The
hair's not as dark as Kate's, but is near enough, and she wears it in
the same style. The woman in the hospital bed is of a height with
Kate, but at least ten pounds lighter, with fuller hips and larger
breasts; I guess I should be flattered, she muses darkly, touching her
own mask. She then touches the woman's bandaged fingers; apparently,
the nails have been removed and the skin peeled off.
   "I can see it," she mumbles softly to her unconscious sorta kinda
doppelganger. Her name is Paige Pond.
   "You," says a voice.
   Kate turns and sees a woman standing in the doorway. A woman who
also looks sorta kinda like her. Paige's twin sister. Kate can't
remember her name.
   "You've come to finish it, huh?" says the twin.
   "I know you don't want to hear this right now, but I didn't do this."
   The woman erupts, saying something unprintable and throwing a soda
can in Kate's direction. Kate's atoms buzz and scatter, letting the
can pass through her. Way to go, Kate; way to defuse the situation.
She pretends to look contrite.
   "I'm sorry about this," says Kate. "I'm going to catch the person
who did this."
   The woman scoffs. "I doubt that very much."

She had been relieved, at first. Four days ago, when Snowden leaked
the DSHA List of Known and Confirmed Secret Identities, it had gripped
her in sudden terror. Not because of Chicago's Fitzwalter Rule, and
the resultant warrant out for Dr. Metronome's arrest; ever since
Bethany Two's new BFF Lacey Trimmer took over the DSHA from Phil
Whaley in twenty-ten, the police and Metronome have been winking and
nodding at each other instead, which is frankly just as exhausting.
No, it was because of Simon and Calliope, and the dozen-or-so truly
sick ess-oh-bees that Kate's tangled with over the last eight years.
If any of them found out who Kate was...
   But they didn't. The List had it wrong; Dr. Metronome had
apparently been confirmed to be Paige Pond, happy housewife to a
prosperous Chicago businessman, with three kids. Several unexplained
absences led to suspicions of infidelity, but it turns out she was
illegally gallivanting about in a union suit, narrowly ducking the
police at every turn. She was the one who brought in Gregory Dingham,
and the one who saved time itself.
   Which surprised the heck out of Kate, who certainly remembered
doing all of that. She felt a little indignant, truth be told, but
knew better than to make a fuss or to contradict the List. Paige can
have the fame and attention, and again, with Trimmer in place, it
wasn't like the cops were going to come after her; what's the worst
that can happen?
   Well, this. Beaten within an inch of her life, and then some. If
her twin hadn't found her when she did, Paige would have bled out on
her kitchen floor. She's stabilized, but it's not looking good.

Bethany One meets Kate at home late in the evening. They sit at Kate's
table, nibbling on cheese and fruit and drinking wine. "Calliope
home?" she asks, though what she really means is, is it safe to talk
   "She's supposed to be, which means she isn't," says Kate, forcing
an exhausted grin. "I wasn't this bad when I was her age, was I?"
   "No," says Bethany. "You were a good kid. Now look at you.
Honestly, I don't know what happened."
   "Parents were to blame," says Kate darkly.
   "Oh, you're in a mood. I don't blame you, though. This Pond case,
it must be hard. You mustn't feel like it's your fault."
   Kate shrugs. "I don't. Not trying to be callous about it, I just...
I'm not going to own up to something I didn't do. Something I'm not
responsible for. I'm sure her sister would prefer it if I did." Kate
then tells Bethany about the soda can at the hospital.
   Bethany flips through her folder. "Pam Turner, her twin. Older by a
minute. She, uh, she had some choice words about the 'real' Dr.
Metronome, who probably framed her sister to protect herself. Speaking
of which..."
   "Well, as far as everyone knows, the good doctor's in a coma,
probably dying. Might be a good time to let her stay dead."
   "Like, retire? Why?"
   "Let me count the ways, my love. One, your real career is finally
getting started. Last month you played with the fricking CSO! You were
pretty good by the way."
   "Was I?"
   "Well, you were adequate."
   "That's more like it."
   "You were great. Two, you've had a good, long run. Most people in
this line don't last more than a few years, you've had eight. Maybe
don't press your luck? Three, if you don't retire, people are going to
damn well know that Paige Pond died because of you. I don't blame you,
you don't blame you, but you can bet a lot of people out there are
going to blame you, and it might be harder for Trimmer to protect you.
Four, if someone does find out who you are, that puts Simon and the
brat in danger."
   "Five," says Kate flatly, "if someone finds out who I am, you've
been aiding and abetting a known criminal for years."
   "I was getting to that," says Bethany, a little indignant. "They
scratch the surface of your personal life a millimeter, and there I
am. Trimmer might save you, but it's going to be because she throws me
under the bus."
   Kate can't deny that. Trimmer's a ruthless bitch. Useful in your
corner, though. "I don't know what I'm going to do in the long-term,"
she says finally. "But short-term, I'm going to find whoever did this.
Can you get me into the crime scene, oh aider and abettor?"
   Bethany shakes her head. "I'm not working this one, unfortunately.
Too high-profile for the likes of me. I'm lucky I could get this." She
picks up the folder, lets it flop back to the table with a muffled
thud. "You'll have to find your own way in, and out. I'd do it
tonight; tomorrow morning, the DSHA takes over."

              II. ADAGIO

The Ponds live in a snazzy apartment, ten floors up. Mister Pond has
taken up permanent residence at the hospital, and the kids are with a
grandmother. Which means all that Kate has to worry about are the
   Bethany One gave her the skinny. "There'll be a police car at the
front, watching the door, and another at the back. One guy at each
door, checking IDs. One guy in the elevator. And one just outside the
   So, she wants to get in without raising any flags, red or
otherwise. No violence, of course, no mysterious noise over here so I
can slip by over there, certainly no Dr. Metronome waltzing up to the
door and saying hi. No, this costume won't do, but maybe another one
will. And for that, she'll need Bethany Two.

"This is ridiculous," Kate complains sullenly as they make their
approach, arms crossed against her mostly exposed chest.
   "What was it you said to me?" says Bethany Two. "Oh, yes. 'Knockout
Mouse, can you get me into this crime scene? Everyone knows you and
Dr. Metronome are friends, and so you'd take a personal interest in
this,' says you. 'But how will that get you in?' quoth I. To which you
did reply, 'I'll pretend to be somebody else. Just find me a costume.
Any old costume. Any identity. I don't care.' And so I did."
   "I'm practically naked," says Kate. "These are ribbons. See-through
ribbons. If I move too suddenly, it's going to be Nipple City, USA;
population: me. I am freezing. In June. Which should not even be a
   "Any old costume, any identity, I don't care," repeats Bethany.
   "I bet Derek did this," seethes Kate. "This was most assuredly Derek."
   "Ssh, we're here," says Bethany. "Make sure you remember your lines."
   "Knockout Mouse," says the policeman at the door. "Nice to have you
back in town."
   Bethany nods. "Wish it was on more pleasant business."
   "Of course," says the cop. He looks to Kate. "And...?"
   "Ouija, Witch of the Black Narcissus," recites Kate, almost
phonetically. "Through mine erotic magicks, I safeguard the realms of
   "I can see that," says the policeman knowingly.
   (Oh, gross.)
   "Trial member of the Daylighters," says Bethany. "Kind of a job
shadowing program."

The crime scene. The policewoman stationed at the apartment door
accompanies them to make sure nothing is disturbed, and she can't seem
to take her eyes off of "Ouija". Whether that's because she has the
hots for Kate, or because Kate looks ridiculous, Kate can't tell.
She's not sure which one would be worse.
   Kate stares at the pool of blood soaked into the white tile, and at
the splatters against the rich oak cabinetry. She pulls up the
forensic report on her phone-- do not ask her where she was keeping
her phone in this outfit, it's a long story and none of your business,
pervert-- and notes that the splatter indicates that Paige was already
on the floor when those blows were struck. Grisly business, and for a
moment Kate gets the queer feeling that it's her blood on the floor
and the cabinets. All of the sudden, she feels the wine and cheese
rushing up. She clamps her mouth tight and swallows it, letting the
vomit burn the back of her throat.
   "Can I..." She looks to the policewoman. "Am I allowed to get some
water or something?"
   "I have some bottled water," she says. "Hang on. And, obviously..."
   "Don't touch anything," says Bethany. "We know."
   Bethany turns to Kate after the officer steps out. "Your first crime scene?"
   "No," says Kate. "You get to fight demigods and robots and crap.
I'm usually stuck chasing after psychopaths. And once in a while,
jewel thieves. Crime scenes are kinda my thing. Usually they don't
faze me." She thinks for a moment. "Jewel thieves aren't so bad. Never
any blood with jewel thieves." She frowns. "Would prefer a nice gang
of jewel thieves right about now."
   The officer returns and hands Kate a bottle of water. Kate slogs it
down, letting it soothe her throat.
   "Can I ask you a question?" says the officer.
   "Sure, why not."
   "How on Earth do you fight in those heels?"
   Fight, hell; it's a miracle I can walk in them. "Carefully," says
Kate. "Very carefully."

               III. SCHERZO

At midnight, they leave the crime scene and head over to Black Devil's
house in Hyde Park. The Antipodean avenger (possessing the speed,
strength, ferocity, mating habits, and odor of the Tasmanian Devil)
isn't home, but he has an open door policy with his fellow
Daylighters. It's a safe place for them to change and to talk, since
Calliope is home now (or should be, damn it). Bethany gives the
password, and the both of them are ushered in. Kate peels the ribbons
off of her body, which only hurts slightly less than a bikini wax, and
after a quick shower has changed into her Metronome suit.
   "Better?" says Bethany.
   "Much," says Kate. "That had to be the dumbest thing I've ever had
on me, and that includes the guy I went to prom with. Please tell me
there really isn't some ditz running around in that thing calling
herself 'Ouija'."
   "She didn't call herself 'Ouija', no," says Bethany. "It was a
villain I clobbered. Turns out her costume didn't offer much by way of
   "Ya think?"
   "So, crime scene veteran," says Bethany, "anything?"
   "Did I find anything the police missed? Nah. I almost never do.
Nine times out of ten, they're damn good at their job. That part of
their job, anyway. Catching a certain winsome vigilante, not so much."
   "So why go?"
   "Because there's still that one time out of ten," says Kate. "And
it helps me focus. Just being there helps me get a handle on it."
   "So, did you get a handle?"
   "Not really," frowns Kate. "I had three suspects in mind going in,
and I have the same three suspects coming out."
   "So, let's start punching people," says Bethany.
   Kate shakes her head. "This is something I have to do myself."
   "Other than all the stuff I just helped you with."
   "Other than," says Kate. "Thanks, Bethany. You're my favorite Bethany."
   "Except for the other one."
   "Well, yeah," teases Kate. "Actually, one thing you can do for me?"
   "What is it?"
   "Well, I'd like to know how they 'confirmed' Paige Pond was
Metronome. I thought the process was supposed to be pretty in-depth."
   "It is," says Bethany. "I'll ask Trimmer if she can dig it up."
   "Also, how the hell is Derek not on there? He's not exactly a
master of disguise. He should be at the top of the List."
   "I think putting him on the List would be redundant. Like Julie Ann
Justice." Bethany laughs, then changes the subject. "Should I let
Trimmer know you're not Paige Pond?"
   Kate grimaces. "Up in the air. If she asks, stall."
   "I'm terrible at stalling," says Bethany. Then, sourly: "Especially
with Trimmer."

The three black capes on Kate's list are violent enough, crazy enough,
and not-arrested enough to be her best choices. They're the ones that
got away and hated Dr. Metronome enough to try killing her. (None of
them, unfortunately, are jewel thieves.)
   Her first suspect in the easiest to cross off her list; turns out
the third Kickflip Kingpin was captured two days before the attack by
his regularly-scheduled nemesis, Rainshade of Naperville.
   Like Kate does, and Bethany did before she moved, Rainshade doesn't
have "real" powers, and so she parades around Chicagoland with
unsanctioned high-tech gear (her umbrella). Like Bethany, Rainshade
doesn't get hassled because she lies about it.
   Whereas Bethany put some work and some thought into her somewhat
plausible "genetically manipulated by rogue scientists" backstory,
Rainshade's nonsense about having a psionic link with umbrellas is
bat-crazy and dumb on its face. It's like she's not even trying, and
the thing that irritates Kate, and that goes double on those nights
when she had both the law and the baddies chasing after her, is that
Rainshade actually gets away with it.
   Also, she's a tramp.
   So her opinion of the nubile Napervillian is generally not very
high, but this once, she has to admit, if grudgingly, that she served
a purpose. One less villain for her to check up on in the small hours.

Of the two that are left, Pinochle is the easiest to find, as the
Maestro of Meld has a proper address. Metronome had helped the police
get enough evidence to bring him to trial for extortion, blackmail,
and assault, an indignity for which he never forgave her.
   "Good evening, Pinochle," says Kate, materializing through his card table.
   "I thought you were dead," says Pinochle. He opens a pack of cards.
"Or dying."
   "Why, because you killed me? Needless to say, I got better."
   "Oh, I do get tired of this, vigilante," says Pinochle, giving the
deck a riffle. "I really don't know why you insist, etc., etc.,
paranoid fantasy, etc., etc., legitimate businessman, and so on."
   "Dirty as dirt, etc., etc.," counters Kate. "Open-and-shut case, and so on."
   "Yet here I am. Found innocent by a jury of my peers."
   "Money talks, expletive walks," says Kate. "Since then you've been
behind more than one scheme to make me miserable."
   "Gross libel, etc.," says Pinochle. He switches to an overhand
poker shuffle, then starts dealing out cards. "Are you in?"
   "Thought it needed four."
   "Works just as well with two. I'm assuming this is a social call,
and not a vigilante harassing a private citizen."
   "Another time," says Kate. "Euchre's more my game."
   Pinochle crinkles his face up in disgust and looks at Kate like
she's some kind of monkey playing with her own faeces. "Euchre," he
says with a shudder. "I'm afraid there's very little we have in
common, Metronome."
   "Nothing that I can see, creep," says Kate.
   "On the contrary," says Pinochle. "I believe we both frequent the
CSO. I distinctly remember seeing you at Miss Morgan's concert." He
smiles tightly. "Such an interesting woman, that Miss Morgan. Did you
know that she's raised her two young siblings? Remarkable woman, yes.
One I'll be keeping my eye on.
   "Well, if you won't play, perhaps you ought to take your leave,
miss. I'd show you the door, but you don't really need the door, do

So, good news bad news. Good news, he didn't try to kill Paige Pond,
because he knows who Metronome really is. Bad news, he knows who
Metronome really is. One day, he's going to act on it. Even if she
retires after this, he won't let this go; he's still going to come for
her. And the kids.
   Another problem for another day. Going on two o'clock now. Three
hours and some change until the sun comes up, and she's going to need
all of them to track down the third and final name on her list:
   Near as Kate can tell, Dentata harbors some serious resentment for
the upper classes, and it has something to do with her
permanently-affixed, spring-loaded, razor-sharp dentures. It could be
she was so poor that she couldn't afford a legitimate dentist, and
went with a bizarre back alley approximation. Or it could be that her
teeth were put out and replaced as a particularly nasty idle class
"entertainment". Dentata's rhetoric was hard to parse.
   In any case, she and her cronies would break into the homes of
wealthy heiresses; while her goons vandalized the home, she would
slowly and methodically take out the heiress's teeth. That was usually
where she stopped. But if the heiress's wealth was particularly
conspicuous, her indulgences particularly egregious, Dentata would
tear off a chunk of her face with her teeth and eat it.
   That was until two months back when Dr. Metronome phased her hand
into the dentures, slamming them shut, permanently. Dentata escaped
while Kate was rescuing the gang's last victim from a couple of
desperate henchmen. She hasn't been seen or heard from since, and both
Kate and the police did their share of looking. Maybe she starved to
death. Maybe she skipped town, maybe she came back when she heard the
woman that ended her crimes against the moneyed classes was herself
the pampered wife of a prominent businessman. It fits. So why does
Kate have this sinking feeling she's wasting her time?

               IV. RONDO

Bethany One swings by Kate's place at the crack of dawn. "You look..."
   Kate opens her eyelids as wide as she can; they're still slivers.
"Like crap?"
   "Well; I was going to say well. Didn't get much sleep?"
   "I spent most of the night chasing Dentata."
   "And here's where you can arrest her," says Kate, tearing off a
scrap of paper. "A present for my favorite Bethany."
   "Except for the other one."
   "Well, yeah."
   Bethany stares at the scrap of paper, holding it right up to her
face. "You must be tired. I can almost read your handwriting. This a
   "Convent," says Kate. "One of the Sisters-- who is also her
sister-- has been hiding her for the last two months, feeding her
intravenously." She feels a yawn coming on, thinks about suppressing
it, then decides it's not worth the effort.
   "She's been there the whole time?"
   Kate nods. "Which means I'm down to zero answers, and I've had zero
sleep. You want to hear about my morning?"
   "Kate, why don't you tell me about your morning?"
   "This morning, soon as I'm about to finally crawl into bed,
Calliope starts laying into me about how hypocritical it is for me to
have a curfew for her if I'm out, quote, slutting about, unquote, for
all hours of the night." She sighs. "Then I did something stupid."
   "What, 'I'm the adult, you're the child'?"
   "'I'm the adult, you're the child'," confirms Kate.
   "Aw, Kate. With a teenager? You should know better than that."
   "I know, I know," says Kate. "I wasn't thinking. I was sleepy."
   "Then what did she do? 'You're not my mom'?"
   "No," says Kate. "She realized that didn't faze me. So now it's, 'I
wish Mom had killed you'."
   "Ouch," says Bethany. "Teenagers are animals."
   "Simon's not. I wasn't."
   "That's because you were both nerds. That doesn't count." Bethany
pats Kate on the shoulder. "Did you ever think of telling her why you
don't keep a curfew? Simon was younger than she is when you told him."
   "You seriously have to ask that?" says Kate. "Next time I cut her
allowance, or ground her, or do anything she disapproves of, which
might very well include breathing, and also not breathing, it'll come
out. You know what teenagers are like when you give them ammunition."
   "You told Simon."
   "And me and Simon are both nerds, so it doesn't count," says Kate.
She gives Bethany a lazy grin. Then she notices something in Bethany's
eyes. "What is it?"
   "It's the reason I came over," says Bethany delicately. "I thought
I had better tell you in person. Paige Pond died during the night."

An hour later, Kate falls asleep. An hour and a minute later, her
phone rings; it's Bethany Two. She talked to Trimmer and got
information regarding the DSHA's "confirmation" that Paige Pond was
Dr. Metronome. Apparently, Pond had come forward herself, and much of
her story was later corroborated by her husband and her sister,
questioned independently and without Paige's knowledge.
   "Trimmer kinda grilled me about it," admits Bethany. "And while I
didn't say anything, she kinda knew that Pond wasn't the real deal.
She said the confirmation work was really shoddy under her
predecessor, a lot of leading questions, they basically told the
husband he was married to Dr. Metronome, and he was more than happy to
say his wife was a superhero."
   Kate mumbles a string of inchoate syllables that she hopes
expresses some form of gratitude.

Simon's volunteering with the animal shelter, and Calliope is doing
whatever the hell it is that she does, so Kate has the house to
herself. She doesn't want to be alone, and she doesn't want to be
around anybody else. It's a sensation she's known her whole life,
here-and-there. But this last year, it feels more and more like that
feeling is all there is, that it's who she is. And the weird thing is
that, the last year hasn't been any harder than all the rest.
   If anything, it's been better. She's at last making serious
progress in both of her chosen careers. The police aren't chasing her.
The music's getting better; she played with the fricking CSO! Money's
not as tight as it used to be. Simon, bless him, has a full-ride
scholarship to U of M, and appears to be well on his way to being a
well-adjusted if train-obsessed adult. She takes a certain amount of
pride in that. Calliope is difficult, yes, but hey, she stopped
pooping in shoeboxes eight years ago.
   Her whole life, whenever this uneasy feeling popped up, whenever
she wanted to be alone and not alone, she turned to the piano. It
didn't make it better. Didn't take it away. But it made it more
bearable somehow.
   She plays at other times, too, of course. She practices and she
performs. But it's only when this... this thing, when it gnaws at her,
only then does she feel the compulsion to play, as she does now,
hammering out the Diabelli Variations. She wonders sometimes if that
isn't why she's gotten better, if the need to be alone and not alone,
with her piano, is the reason she's any good at all.
   At some point, she stops playing and stares at a corner of the
piano. In its lacquered and polished maple, she sees the distorted
reflection of a face. Her face, but also her sister's, and her
mother's, and Paige Pond's. Not Paige's, no; she never saw Paige
before the beating, and the reflection is unblemished. Not Paige's,
but Paige's sister, though of course it comes to the same thing.
That's the trouble with twins. Only one way to really tell them apart.
   She scampers up from her piano, wild-eyed, suddenly and painfully
awake, suddenly and painfully alive. She grabs her phone and calls
   "Hello?" says Bethany Two.
   "Crap, wrong Bethany."
   "I love you too."
   "Sorry." She redials. It takes forever for Bethany One to pick up.
   "Kate, I'm a little busy," she says. "With Dentata."
   "Fingerprints," says Kate. "Paige Pond, her fingerprints."
   "She didn't have any skin left on her fingers."
   "But her sister does."
   "Oh," says Bethany. "Oh, my stars and garters. Yes."

That afternoon, Paige Pond is arrested for the murder and
impersonation of her sister, Pam Turner. Bethany One gives Kate the
skinny two nights later.
   "Well, she wasn't deluded or anything when she claimed to be
Metronome. She was just lying. Apparently, she had always lied,
without remorse. Psych evaluation isn't until tomorrow, but I bet it
comes up psychopath."
   "Never enough jewel thieves," complains Kate.
   "Apparently she wanted out of her life," says Bethany. "Away from
the kids, from the husband. She saw her sister, single, free. Wanted
that life for herself. And when the List came out last week, she
thought she saw an opportunity. She killed her sister and took her
place, hoping we'd be looking so close at the Metronome angle that she
wouldn't be a suspect."
   "Which, admittedly..."
   "And she wasn't dumb about it, necessarily. She must've figured
we'd run fingerprints on her sister's corpse and find out they weren't
Paige Pond's. You should have been there when we asked her for her
fingerprints. The look on her face..."
   "No," says Kate quietly. "It's better than I wasn't there."
   "What was it?" says Bethany. "That tipped you off?"
   "Pam had confirmed her sister's story. Granted, the guy who took
her statement was an idiot, and led her along to it. But Paige didn't
know her sister had been questioned. Didn't know what she had said.
And when she impersonated her, talking to the police... she said the
opposite. Oh, don't look so glum. You would've caught it eventually.
After all, you are my favorite Bethany."
   "Except for the other one."
   "Well, yeah."
   "So I noticed something," says Bethany. "Ever since Paige Pond was
arrested, no one's seen Dr. Metronome."
   "I noticed that, too," says Kate.
   "Does that mean that Paige Pond was Dr. Metronome?" says Bethany.
"Who will be remembered for all time as both a plucky heroine, and
also an unrepentant and violent psychopath?"
   "I don't much like the sound of that," says Kate, wincing. "But I
honestly don't know what it means, Beth. If I knew what I was doing
with my life, I probably wouldn't be doing it."

After Bethany leaves, Kate turns to her piano, playing In the Bottoms.
As she pauses between Honey and Barcarolle, she catches a glimpse of a
face in the lacquered and polished maple, clouded and featureless.

Dr. Metronome created by Tom Russell & Jamie Rosen.

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