Roxy choked and spluttered, her mouthful of food getting caught in surprise by the unexpected proposition from the techie.

  I raised an eyebrow.

  [Really? Marriage?]

  Clara nodded, ignoring the choking super, as she took a bite of toast. “Think of it like a non-disclosure agreement. Legally, marriage would allow certain safeguards in terms of keeping specifics of the technology under wraps, as well as allowing me unfettered access to all parts of you should you perish.”

  [You don’t want my hand to fall into other’s hands.]

  “Other than in mine at the altar, no.”

  “Clara,” Roxy finally managed, her face red as she struggled for air.

  [I feel that it might make things rather awkward.]

  “True.” The techie tilted her head. “We’d probably need a bigger marital bed, Gunquake.”

  “Clara,” the super insisted, the temperature of the kitchen clearly increasing.

  [I’d even have a legitimate surname, if I took yours.]

  “Dubs.”

  “Of course, Gunquake.” Clara smiled. “I’d do anything for my betrothed.”

  I was reasonably certain that we were a few short seconds away from one of us meeting an untimely end. Clara’s latest playful jab had clearly struck a nerve with the super, as Roxy was usually only playing along at being annoyed. Mostly. At present, she looked ready to pop - although that could be partially from inhaling her food.

  [Unfortunately, Clara, I will have to decline your proposal. While you mean a lot to me, I am not at a stage in my life where marriage is something I wish to consider. I do hope this doesn’t affect our relationship in a negative manner.]

  “Once again, it is a blessing that I am unable to shed tears.” She smiled and waved her toast at me. “All things in good time, Gunquake. Much like you and learning what your arm will do.”

  [Acceptable. Have your secrets, then.]

  I glanced over at Roxy, and her bubbling rage had been replaced with something akin to dejection. Surely she wasn’t disappointed that I had rejected Clara, so left only one other reason.

  [When—and if—I’m ever ready, you might have some competition, Clara.]

  Before either of them could respond, a crash came from the living room. Shortly followed by the sound of scrabbling claws sprinting and sliding over the floorboards as Warlock scurried through the lobby to the dining room.

  “I’m going to have to secure that cat tree to the wall,” Clara sighed, looking over at the doorway. “If I may be excused.”

  She got up and left, leaving the two of us alone.

  [Did you want to talk about this like adults?]

  Roxy worked her jaw before sighing and picking her fork back up. “Is that how far we’ve fallen? Working through our emotions responsibly now?”

  [I’d like to think that if marriage was on the cards, it would be something we had both discussed at length prior, and not a surprise.]

  She wrinkled up her nose. “Fuckin’… yeah, I mean I agree - Clara just caught me off guard and I got defensive. I love you, Dubs, and I don’t ever see someone reaching the pedestal I’m putting you on.”

  I nodded and rotated the empty canister between my fingers.

  [My stance doesn’t mean the feeling isn’t mutual, but what I said to Clara was the truth. I was a mercenary, and then a hitman. There could be proof of my many crimes someone is just waiting to blackmail me with. I’ve almost died so many times, even just in the short time we’ve known each other. It wasn’t even two months ago where I didn’t know if I even deserved happiness, so marriage is… distant to my current focus.]

  Roxy nodded, pouting slightly as she jabbed at her rice idly. “I think… my nerves are just getting the best of me. I’ve never had something as good as what we’ve got, and now that it’s going to be out in the open—on the fucking television—I’m just panicked about it all.”

  [We’ll meet the future together, whatever it holds. We can worry about everything else once we’ve survived this new life.]

  She gave me a wry smile. “Alright, you’re on. Thanks for talking sense into me… again.”

  [No worries. Thank you for arranging this attempt at having a normal family meal.]

  Roxy shrugged and leaned back on her stool, trying to look out of the kitchen and into the living room. “If I didn’t know any better, then I’d assume the gremlin was forcing this conversation. You know how she is.”

  [I do.]

  Despite the narrowed eyes the super gave me for the choice of phrasing, the rest of the night went without issue. I was rather eager for some rest after my first solo mission, and although my legs gave me no grief, my stamina wasn’t quite back to normal. I was thankful enough that I no longer had weird flashbacks or the desire to kill all those around me.

  Just some.

  A thought that seemed to linger, as I had a bad dream during the night. Ostracized for the sins of my past. Losing everything again. I woke up and rubbed my head. Still dark out.

  With a sigh, I left the warm bed. Although it felt like I needed to wash my mouth out, that obviously wasn’t the case. Second best would be to splash some cold water on my face. I moved out of the room, as near to silent as I was able. We both had patrol later this evening, and I didn’t want to mess any of our schedules up.

  There was no point putting the light on, as I knew the layout of the house well enough. Well, aside from the basement gym, of course. I ran the tap on low and cupped my hand beneath the flow. Once full, I splashed it across my brow. It ran down my face and I sighed, looking at myself in the mirror. From what I could see, there was-

  A flash of blue briefly illuminated the room, coming from the lobby. Gun-arm chamber snapped open, and I slapped Roxy’s toothbrush in there. A few quick steps took me to the landing railing, looking down into the lobby. I lowered my weapon.

  Clara was sitting there on the floor - something I could only tell via the faint green glow in front of her face due to her eyes. Faint wisps of smoke ran from her, caught in the brief moonlight coming in from the window. Warlock trotted into view beside her, with something in his mouth.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  [What are you doing?]

  The techie looked up, pulling a face that I couldn’t quite read due to the shadows. “My best,” she whispered.

  [It is a little late to be playing with the cat. Get some rest.]

  A bit shorter with her than I would usually be, but I was half awake and Roxy might break us in half if we woke her up because Warlock had broken one of his tech toys. It definitely had no bearing on me being jealous that he didn’t want to sleep in my bedroom. I retired back to bed, feeling… somewhat better.

  It was high time I took things a little more slowly in life. Safer, now that everything was settled and made sense.

  I adjusted the magazine in its pouch and turned to the suited-up super, who was walking over from the house to the Meteor, which I was standing beside.

  [Can you believe I have my first online troll?]

  She grinned, looking as radiant as ever as the sun faded away to an amber sunset. “I’m sure you have more than one, babe. What’s their deal?”

  [Their username is ‘Bumquake’, and I am unsure how they are intending that to be read. They mostly post about how I am just a knock-off of some old hero called Baron Blast, and disparaging the potency of my firearm.]

  Roxy stopped in front of me and put her hands on her hips. “I’ll not comment on that, but they sound pretty tame. Be thankful you don’t have whole fan clubs devoted to candid photos of your bare feet.”

  I furrowed my brow and glanced over at the city.

  [Goldarch needs a purge.]

  She grinned. “Most of them aren’t even of my little piggies. It’s unhinged, but don’t let it get to you. I already know you’ve tried to find out where this Bumquake resides… aside from rent free in your head.”

  “I’m pretty sure that I saw Gunquake carving that name out on a grenade earlier,” Clara interjected, appearing from the workshop.

  [We don’t have anything potent enough to be worthy of solving that blight.]

  It was a Flash grenade. I didn’t kill innocents, even if they were assholes.

  “Either way,” the super said, reaching out and pulling on my coat to bring me in for a kiss. “If I have my break later in my shift, and you have yours earlier… we could meet up, since we’re in adjacent districts.”

  [A date? Late night coffee shop or something?]

  “Mmm, perfect. We’ll work out details later.” She gave me another peck on the re-breather. “Don’t die of boredom on your patrol… and don’t get in trouble.”

  [I make no promises.]

  With a sigh, Roxy let me go and stepped away - only to crouch and leap high up into the air. Now that I was partially capable of the same feat, I had to watch in awe at the height she could get. Easily quadruple what was safe for me, with only damage to the city roads as a consequence.

  “I apologize for rocking the boat yesterday, Gunquake.” Clara tapped a tool on the side of the Meteor, drawing my attention.

  [Oh, no it’s fine. I was expecting you to maintain the illusion of authenticity for longer, actually.]

  “I just apologized for it - I didn’t say I was being disingenuous.” She raised an eyebrow. “I’ll need a lot more time to prepare to fight Roxy for the rights to your hand. Oh, and speaking of that… I won’t be actively following you during patrol tonight. My attention is better spent working on your cybernetics.”

  [More secrets. That is fine, but I’ll take the drone in the backpack just in case I need you.]

  “Acceptable.” Clara crossed her arms. “The hobgoblins need the updated schematics for forging your new hand parts. A lot of it is more detailed and complex than they are used to, and I need them to be up to the task before sending Roxy over to assist with the metal.”

  I nodded. That made it seem like things were getting closer, if actual parts were being made. At this point, I would almost consider firing her from the sidekick position so that she had more time for working on my arm… but that was selfish. The drone and her guidance were important for a tech hero that was far too easily injured.

  “Plus, I’m preparing for your imminent surgery to improve your re-breather, as previously discussed. You keep me very busy, Gunquake.”

  [That is what you wanted from the start, though. A guinea pig to utilize how you saw fit.]

  She clicked her tongue and shrugged. “Well, I haven’t done everything I’ve wanted just yet, but you have certainly exceeded expectations.” Her eyes wandered over to the workshop. “And will continue to do so.”

  [How about something so that random thugs can’t put a bullet through me?]

  “It was your choice not to have your skeleton replaced with the ancient mech metal.” She shook her head. “If your outfit is insufficient, then blame yourself and take it up with the League, Gunquake.”

  Elective bone replacement surgery was probably one of her more horrifying suggestions, and that was knowing how many of her weaponized shells were classified as war crimes. Not fully knowing what material the old robot was made out of could lead to some terrible things if I allowed my imagination to run free. Which it did when I listed eight reasons why I would decline the offer.

  Pestering the League sounded like a good use of my time, however.

  [Alright. You get back to giving me a hand, and I’ll go prep for my patrol.]

  She did just that, without complaint. While the initial intention was to modify me in a way that I had the full use of two limbs for once, it was also about whatever functions she had managed to add to it. Whatever it was, I couldn’t wait to kill things with it.

  //Gunquake: Hi, Stacy.

  //Gunquake: Any chance I can arrange a meeting with Director Kingston?

  //Gunquake: Before the duo mission is preferable.

  //Stacy: Let me see what his availability is like…

  //Stacy: Pretty booked, unfortunately - but I’ll ask, anyway.

  //Gunquake: Thank you, appreciated.

  Well, that didn’t take up much of my time at all. As much as I was enjoying the lower stakes of being a hero, I wanted to know what was going on with the World Government. If there was anything coming up that we should be wary of.

  Otherwise… I’d find my own problems to solve.

  Force of habit, really. My years of being a hitman were nothing but work and recovery, so sitting idle was only nice for a certain amount of hours before I started looking for something to stick both feet into. Usually something early-grave adjacent.

  Nothing right before our talk show interview, though. I had to turn up pristine, putting my best mask-covered face on for those watching.

  I sighed and convinced myself to go and track down wherever Warlock was hiding. There was a chance he was in the workshop, and I had no intention of interrupting Clara. Her space had become something of a no-go zone for how much time she devoting to the prototype tech going into my new arm.

  While getting ready earlier, I made a note that one of my magazines had gone missing. That didn’t really tell me much, however. If she needed to make a new magwell or have on-board storage, it made sense to measure the mags in person rather than try to find the specs for this old tech.

  Maybe she would make me double-barreled.

  Internally, I grinned. I stepped back into the house and scouted about for the energetic cat. While he had spent most of the day lazing around the garden furniture in the sunlight, I knew he was just powering up his battery to run about now that dusk was upon us.

  A glance around the living room - no cat. Kitchen and dining room were similarly devoid of the kitten. Up the stairs and he wasn’t on our bed, nor was he hiding in the bathroom. Clara’s bedroom door was closed, so I didn’t think he’d be in there - and I wasn’t about to breach her privacy by looking.

  It was looking more likely that Warlock was already in one of the buildings that the techie was using. I sighed, but hatched a plan. I’d get some of his treats - the ones he couldn’t resist - and camp out in the garden with them until he showed up.

  Foolproof. I walked back down the stairs and stepped across the lobby toward the kitchen… but paused.

  I raised an eyebrow as I looked over to the side of the staircase by the dining room. The basement door was open a crack. I had never really seen it open before… and it had become something of a meme that I had never been in the basement. Not half because her house had been air-dropped into position. Its existence was an even bigger mystery than how we had running water.

  That said, a gym was no place for a kitten - where everything in there could fall and squish the tiny monster. As much as I hated to break a running gag, I’m sure that Roxy would understand me dirtying her holy ground with my presence since it was in service of protecting Warlock.

  Even so, I walked over to the doorway with a great deal of trepidation.

  I pushed it open gently, and hit the light switch - illuminating a stone staircase leading down beneath the house. Odd, but I was well versed in magical bullshit by now. I stepped onto the first step and turned to look at the bottom. Another dozen or so plain steps, and there was another door - also slightly ajar.

  It was unlike the super to be so careless, but she had a lot on her mind recently with this new stage of our lives.

  [Warlock? Are you down here?]

  Silence greeted me, other than the reverb of my own voice from the enclosed space. I sighed and continued down. Perhaps now that I had broken the seal, I could actually use the gym with her rather than just sparring outdoors.

  I pressed the end of my gun-arm against the door and pushed it open gently, just in case the cat was there. On my left, another switch to hit to light up this dark underground space.

  Fluorescent lights pulsed as they flickered on, illuminating this surprisingly expansive space.

  I turned my head slowly, scanning the area. There was no cat in sight, but…

  This wasn’t a gym, either.