Identity

The next week was busy for some of my friends. Jinx was in protective custody along with his parents and we missed him. Mark missed Tuesday's classes; he was appearing in closed court to be adopted and get his name changed and the records were promptly sealed. They did it before the courthouse was open, actually, to cut down on potential observers as much as possible, but he took the day to celebrate with his parents. Ari's mom consulted with some attorneys that Dad recommended through Uncle Richard, and she determined to go ahead and have Hush declared dead, claim the money due her, and put it into investments for Ari. The rest of the money was up for grabs, but Ari didn't want it and so his paternity would go unacknowledged, to his relief. Ari went to another early court session on Friday and his surname was changed to 'McMaster,' which was actually the name of an author he loved. No connection to his mother or Tommy Elliot, should someone come looking, and he was really relieved. The sealed record existed, but the risk of anything exposing that was low; the court had the ability to update the guys' IDs, so they were able to pick them up on the way out. Their Social Security numbers were changed as well, but that identity was automatically updated through the federal database and took a day.

Imogen's name change was done during regular business hours with her whole immediate family attending; her half-siblings came home for that. Her file as a foster kid was quietly sealed at the same time, but since Tarantula had been dead for so long and hadn't been a major villain anyway, secrecy wasn't deemed necessary. Nix said she was pretty much forgotten in the underworld, aside from a few people like his dad, who collected information. And she was considering Aunt Barbara's offer to be adopted by her.

Justine and her mom were going to both get their names changed. Uncle Richard said that it seemed Professor Pyg had gone off the radar and nobody knew if that was good or bad. Justine was going to make Valentin her middle name and they decided on the surname 'Greenwood' together, kind of a fresh start for them both. Because of her mom's work schedule, that wasn't done until the following week. And Dad got us all secured communicators so we could at least grouptalk with Jinx. They were only for that purpose, and we only used them when were alone in our rooms. I also used that to work with him on our history class.

It didn't take long for the initial panic over the Joker's reappearance to subside as the adults went to work. It stayed in the back of my mind, though, an itchy spot between my shoulder blades that never really went away. Why, I don't know, since frankly, I expected Grandma Alex's kids to be more prime targets than one kid out of an extended family.

The week of Thanksgiving, my pod told me that Uncle Tony wanted to see me, so we trundled over after school. "Get rid of the guilty look, kid," he said, hugging me. "It's a load off my mind that you can defend yourself so well, and my shoulder's fine now. I had a lot worse injuries as Iron Man." He steered me back to his office, always filled with fascinating bits of stuff. "The AI forwarded your question about the paint on your pod, and that got me thinking." He grinned at me, and I smiled back.

"Always dangerous," I said, and he laughed.

"I've got a changeable paint that we're going to trial. You'll be able to adjust the color with a small control pad, and the default setting will be your current purple paint but you can change that to almost any color you can imagine. It can also show metallic flake, iridescence, pearl, or cream as options. Endlessly customizable. It's still got the protective properties of the original paint because of the vibranium."

"Wow," I said. "I shouldn't be surprised whenever you pull a rabbit out of your hat each time, but yet I am."

"Maybe it will make caution more fun," he said, shrugging, the smile sliding off his face. "And this is also for you." He slid a bracelet across the table to me. It was about a centimeter wide, heavier than it looked, and I put it on.

"It's pretty," I said, admiring the midnight blue shading to deep purple on an enamel inset. There was some engraving around the bezel that was lovely.

"Pinch the sides, anywhere."

So I did, and sat there in shock as a metal skin flowed over me, covering almost everything that a fencing jacket would, plus both hands and a sort of tight hood. And in the palms were his trademark repulsors. My eyes were huge.

"I know Barnes has taught you some armed self-defense techniques, which is good, but you have to be close to be able to use them. This gives you distance, a fairly powerful weapon, and protection all in one."

"Wow," I breathed, touching the metal. The glossy, glass-like color was the same as what I'd thought was enamel on the bracelet, with silver-toned accents. The nanite armor moved like fabric as I extended my arms.

"To retract it, press the design on the sternum," he instructed, and looking down, I saw a lozenge shape outlined with the same engraving that the bracelet had. I tapped that and the nanites retreated smoothly back into the bracelet form. "It's not full Iron Man armor, but definitely several steps above even the best commercial protective vests."

"This is amazing, Uncle Tony," I said, marveling as I looked at it.

"Well, it's not a superhero suit, so don't go looking for trouble," he instructed me, then offered me dried blueberries from a packet. "You should be able to have a normal life, do the things you like to do, and this will help. It does have limitations, however. The repulsors are good for one discharge each, and they're not as strong as arc-reactor powered repulsors. The armor can be damaged, so don't hang around if you have to use it."

"I feel a lot better," I said. I did, too. Knowing that I had this protection was a big relief. Uncle Tony literally had my back. "How's Carolyn?"

"Making her old man proud at MIT," he said. Proudly. "The color on your jacket is her invention, actually."

"It's gorgeous," I said. "She's amazing." He nodded.

"I prefer less of a shine, but she seemed positive that you'd like it." And he went on to explain that it was powered by kinetic energy, storing it most efficiently, an adaptation of a technology he'd invented to harvest electricity from the tides. He made collectors that sat on the seabed and collected the energy from water movement. The patents had been awarded last month and power companies were clamoring for them. He had a team working on adapting it for wind, envisioning poles wrapped with the collectors rather than big turbines that killed birds.

It turned out that the paint would take awhile, so I went home with Grandpa Damian. School was out for the holiday, so the pod would deliver itself to me when it was done. I didn't have to work until Black Friday, but if something happened and it took longer than that to fix, my parents could take me in and bring me home. I could use their pods, but they weren't as well-equipped as the family pods and they refused to take a possible risk. I hoped Uncle Tony got the paint right the first time.

He did, and when it arrived on Wednesday, I sat in it to play around. I could see the paint color changing on the little hood, and finally settled on a nondescript metallic silver. With lavender undertones, but still well within the range of normal. Boring as all get-out. "But wait; there's more," AI Tony said grandly.

"Why am I not really surprised?" I asked it, and it smirked.

"On the divider behind your seat is a new compartment," it said. "You can open it just by reaching back and pressing hard." I did, and I heard a whisper as the door retracted. Wanting to see what was going on, I squirmed around in my seat to observe a space about 12" x 18" x 12". "The stereo components had to be moved a bit to make room, so the sound won't be as perfect but should still be good. Inside is a blanket; you were shivering when the whole Joker news went down and blankets are comforting. There's also a flashlight in case the lights in the pod don't work for some reason. You can put things of your own there as well, a book, whatever. And Ann added some snacks; there's freeze-dried fruit, nuts, and chocolate squares."

"Ooh," I said. "Aunt Ann is my favorite aunt." The AI laughed but I was serious. They were coming out for Thanksgiving; I'd have the chance to thank them personally.

"And one final thing; in the event of an emergency, the windows will automatically darken so that nobody outside can see you inside. Additionally, a fine vibranium grid has been sandwiched in the glass, making the glass almost impossible to break through. And my program has been modified. If you're unconscious inside, I will be able to unlock the pod if I can verify that legitimate emergency responders are present. This will protect you against a criminal pretending to be a cop, for example. I can scan the badges, license plates, match IDs to faces."

"That's amazing," I said, shaking my head. "Uncle Tony thinks of everything."

"Nobody can think of everything, hence the continual upgrading," AI Tony said, the amusement dropping from its voice. "He's worried that the Joker will come after either Alex herself or one of her female descendants, and frankly, you'd be the easiest to grab, the least guarded. Or so it would look to someone unfamiliar with you and your abilities."

We talked a little more, and I got out, reluctantly sending it down to the garage. The morning of Thanksgiving, John and I got up early and went to the rowing club for practice. The club was open, security guards on duty, a few people in the weight room, but we were the only ones practicing in the tanks. No coaches were around, but John took it upon himself to coach me , directing me to make a few changes that I could see had immediate results. I felt stronger as I pulled, but it also showed that I'd need to up my cardio.

"You've got a lot of potential, Lys," he said as I got out of the tank and racked the shell. "Especially since you're new to the sport and a year ago you weren't even walking. Keep working hard, you'll go places." I laughed, and he waved me off. "You know what I mean. You'll be good." And on that note, I went on to put some time dry land training. I was still working to strengthen my ankle, although the doctor thought I was nearly there. The bone was completely healed, he kept telling me, and my muscle was nearly the equal of my left ankle. But I was still nervous about it, having so many pins in there made it feel fragile.

We got home in good time to clean up for dinner; it was just extended family this year, and looking around, I was grateful for each one. And I was glad that John was back, even though it was a mixed blessing for him. The cousins, this year including Imogen, took over the games room while the adults hung out in the library, and John and I whomped everybody at pool. It was fun. Dinner was delicious, as usual, and afterward, there was coffee in the library. The dessert had been served at the tables, a selection of pies and cheesecakes. Yum. Cheesecake. So dreamy, and it was served with a bittersweet chocolate sauce. Fortunately I was full and couldn't fit in more than a single slice. I thanked Uncle Tony and Aunt Ann, and Uncle Bucky was glad to hear that I had more defenses and that I was training with the exercises he'd given me. The bat cave had a program that let you work on threat assessment and initial engagement and it gave you a score and suggestions for improvement after each exercise. Perhaps most surprising, Uncle Steve gave me a really odd knife. The blade was about six inches long, with a handle, but it was completely metal free, black and primitive looking.

"It's obsidian. It can break fairly easily, but the bright side of that is that each piece is also very sharp. And it won't show up in the common metal detectors, so it's a better choice to keep on you," he explained. "You can keep that dagger as a backup weapon if you want." I thought actually that it might be a good idea to put the metal one in the storage compartment in my pod. I could velcro the scabbard right inside the opening so that it would be easy to find and grab. The obsidian knife was shorter and wider than the metal blade, and the wooden hilt felt good in my hand. I thanked him for his thoughtfulness. "I think Buck's got the right idea," he said soberly. "If you're attacked by anyone, not necessarily some legendary criminal, you need to both defend yourself and get away. Make sure your cardio's good, Lys, so you can sprint." Great. Now I really did have to put more time in, since he'd be sure to follow up. And I couldn't blow him off, not when the concern was for my well-being.