“What’s the little blinking light mean?”
“It means… Wait, blinking?” Stanley glanced up at the status board disguised as a gaming system. Instead of glowing green, his mother’s light was flashing yellow.
He paused their game, making Joe groan, and stood up. “It means time’s up,” he fibbed as he saved the game.
“It’s only four!” Joe protested.
“Yeah, I’m on restriction,” Stanley lied with an apologetic shrug. He hated not being honest, but telling the truth would make Joe laugh or fill him with a bunch of questions Stanley didn’t have time to answer. Why wouldn’t he take the hint and just leave already?
Joe doddled as he packed his stuff away. He made a few more remarks Stanley answered without paying attention. By the time he’d finally gotten his friend out the door, Mom's light had shifted to orange, and the warning beeps started.
“Crap!” he hissed as he dashed for the office. He slapped the trigger point next to the door without slowing down. He skidded to a halt in front of the hidden door just as it began to spin.
As soon as he had enough room to squeeze through, Stanley hurried into the small control center and slid into the chair. He hit the emergency contact button for his mother, now also flashing orange.
“I’m here,” he said into the microphone. “What do you need?”
Stanley’s mother didn’t answer.
“Mom!” Stanley called as he began tapping at the keyboard. “Come on. You’ve got to answer me.”
He used her status beacon to trace where she was and started hacking into the security cameras in that area. The fourth camera feed showed an image of Onyx crumpled in an alley somewhere. It was in black and white, but there was no mistaking the huge dark spot pooling under her. His mother might have super strength, but she wasn't invulnerable. Her suit provided some protection, but she'd always relied on speed and flexibility as much as her strength in her fighting style. That didn't work well with full body armor.
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“Mama.” Stanley’s voice cracked. He felt rooted to the spot even as everything in him screamed he needed to be there right now!
A drawing sensation pulled at the base of his skull and down his spine as the image of his mother bleeding in an alley burned into his mind. The feeling snapped, making Stanley shiver and blink. The air around him went from cool to hot and muggy, and the stench of warm garbage and blood assailed his nose.
Stanley’s heartbeat picked up again as he realized he’d moved. He spun around, immediately regretting the decision as the world tilted. He wobbled, and his vision went dark around the edges, but he caught sight of his mother mere feet in front of him. A second wave of adrenaline hit him with the force of a tsunami, washing away the faint feeling and clearing his head.
He dropped down next to his mother and pressed a couple of fingers against the pulse point under her jaw. He could feel a slow and weak, but present, pulse. He looked her over, calling her codename and a few desperate attempts of strangled calls of "Mom" and "Mama," all the while. But she was completely nonresponsive, and no wound was visible with the way she was lying. Stanley knew the dangers of moving someone who was injured, but judging by the size of the growing pool of blood, she would bleed out if he didn't. If she ended up paralyzed or something, she could ground him for life, but she'd at least be alive to ground him.
"Please don't make it worse," he muttered, rolling her toward the less bloody side.
The swirlling pattern of deep grays and smokey black that made up her costume, further darkened by the blood and dark alley, made it difficult to make out details, but the continued flow of blood made finding the bullet wound just above her right hip bone easy enough to find. Only then did Stanley realize he'd arrived empty-handed. Of course, he'd had no idea he was about to teleport or that he even could, so how could he have known to grab the kit first? And now he had to hope he could manage a side along on desperation-fueled determination and instinct and not end up tearing himself or his mother to pieces in the process.
Calling himself every name in the book for picking today to emerge, Stanley ripped his shirt off over his head, ripped it into something he could rig into a passing bandage, and dressed the wound as best as he could to maintain as much pressure as possible. He lifted her, surprised by how easy it was despite his last growth spurt leaving him an inch taller than her now. A fireman's carry or in his arms seemed less awkward for him and more dignified for her, but something told him it would also be far more dangerous for a first-time side along for an inexperienced bampher, like he'd be more likely to lose one of her limbs or, God forbid, something more vital. So, as awkward as it was, Stanley knelt, setting her across his knee and hugging her to him as tightly as he could. He checked to ensure he kept steady pressure on the bandage, said a prayer, and focused hard on Doc Anders’ place and his need to be there now.
