A/N: I Did Mean To Space These Apart Evenly From Now, But Thats Okay. This Is Bella Presenting Zach With

A/N: I did mean to space these apart evenly from now, but that’s okay. this is bella presenting zach with the thing she caught, but like any good cat owner, zach is confused but mostly grateful and touched by the gift

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Part IV: Gift

Walking down the hall, Bella tugged at the emotions tangling in her chest. Remorse. Pity. Excitement. Guilt? Triumph. Good enough, and normal enough feelings for the situation. She knew she wasn’t the epitome of a good person, seeing as she personally supplied tools for campaigns injuring people and destroying the city, but personal check-ins that assured her she wasn’t a heartless monster were nice.

The headquarters of Miranda’s Protection Agency was empty; only suckups and overachievers worked Saturday afternoons in the office since that time was reserved for fieldwork or family time. Bella checked her phone, swiping from the night vision equipped cameras showing Manic Alchemist to double-checking where Zach was. Good. He was in his office.

Drawing up to the starkly plain stainless steel door, she rapped on it. Bella had remembered to pull her sleeves over her knuckles for protection since the doors in the building were infamous for bruising knuckles. The muffled knock rang out through the deserted hallway. Hearing footsteps approaching, Bella squinted, knowing what was to come. As the door opened, she knew her partially shut eyes did nothing. Every wall of the room screamed with different jarringly bright colored paint and was lit by tasteful choices of complementary LED strips. Beanbags lined the walls, interrupted only by a floating desk suspended by electromagnetic suspension Bella had designed. A mountain of stuffed toys, from cerulean lions, to lilac unicorns, to magenta cats, sat haphazardly in the corner of the room. Zach himself stood in the doorway, looking embarrassed, as usual, at the state of his room. The scene was mildly endearing, once Bella got over being blinded. He sheepishly passed her the pair of sunglasses he kept by the door for whenever she came to visit.

“Hey,” Zach said, as Bella stepped into the room. He closed the door behind her, asking, “What’s this visit about? Normally people don’t work at this time.”

Pushing the cold sunglasses up the bridge of her nose, Bella said, “I did it.”

“Huh?”

“The job? So I can go out,” she elaborated. She strode over to a beanbag and sat down. Being Zach’s confidant as one of the youngest members of the company meant Bella had spent enough time in his room to be comfortable enough to do as she pleased.

“What? Already?” Zach said, blinking in shock. Honestly, what did he take her for? Thankfully, he corrected himself before she had to, shaking his head and sighing. “You know what? I shouldn’t be surprised. Though, this is quick, even for you. Did you start before the mission was approved?

No. She was just highly efficient and had a long list of villain contacts to choose from. But she didn’t share that. Not when it would surely cost Bella her job at the company. Despite her smug internalized reply, her triumphant smirk slid off her face. She could have, should have waited longer so as not to be suspicious. Cursing silently and smoothing on a placid expression, she said, “I guess I’m just good at my job.”

“Well, if you’re so good at your job,” teased Zach, poking fun at her matter-of-fact tone coupled with prideful words, “Then we’d better start planning your next mission.”

“I can’t just join you now?”

“No. No! I can’t-” Zach said, sharply exhaling before finding his words. “I can’t lose someone like you.”

Something warm bubbled in Bella’s chest, but she replied, bitterly only half-joking, “Yes, losing such a vital asset to your company would be a significant blow to your heroic efforts.”

Typical, sweet Zach saw through the flimsy cover of her low self-esteem. While Bella knew her extensive value as an individual pertaining to personal goals, it was so easy to rationalize being excluded from groups when all she brought to the table was computers. “No,” he softly corrected. “I enjoy you as a person. Your company. Just” – he punched her arm lightly – “I care about you and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

The warm feeling grew. Punching him back, Bella said, “You’re such a softy. I can handle myself, so don’t be afraid of giving me something more dangerous.”

“Handle yourself how? Besides your tech, what else can you do? I don’t think there are any nanites you can invent that would fix gashes or broken bones.”

Making a mental note of an addition for the next Crimson Nanite update, she turned her attention back to the conversation at hand, excitement twisting in her chest. This was her chance! “I’m a powered person,” Bella said, watching his face closely for a reaction. His face remained blank, so she continued, “My blood has special properties. When it’s frozen, it becomes a healing salve that closes any surface level wounds in around five minutes.” She would have kept going, but as earnest as Zach was if she talked too long his eyes would start to glaze over. All the same, she couldn’t help but add, “And I am resistant to heat and fire.” Other words and explanations itched to be released, like her costume idea, the gadgets she would add, how she wanted to be presented to the public, but there was no way he would retain any of the information.

“Okay,” Zach said slowly. “Maybe I can get the higher ups to consider you for more dangerous stuff. We should probably decide what you want to do first, though.”

Conversation for the next ten minutes was dull. For most people's standards, at least. Bella was thrilled to be discussing the tactics, strengths, and weaknesses of villains and vigilantes that mildly terrorized the streets of the surrounding area. As topics wound by, they slowly drifted from fieldwork to new recruits in the office. Apparently, some of the less youthful members of the company hadn’t been taking Zach seriously. Bella couldn’t fault them entirely – it was hard to swallow one's pride sometimes to take orders from a kid. Still, it was unfair given how much he had done for the city. 

Having talked for long enough and being distracted from more relevant topics, Bella decided it was finally time to bring it up.

“Hey,” she said, interrupting a natural lull in between conversations. “My task to qualify for fieldwork. It’s done, right?”

Zach fixed her with a stare. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Bella fidgeted, hoping she wouldn’t reveal her scheme. Maybe it would pass up for nervousness at her newly acquired position being in the balance. Taking a calming breath, she said, “Say Manic Alchemist gets out. Would I still be able to go out?”

“Oh. Yeah. Your job was just to catch him. You’re not guarding his cell, are you?” 

Bella shook her head.

“Okay! So if someone messes up bad enough to lose him, then that’s their fault. You can still go out, don’t worry. There’s no way he could escape without help anyway.”

She sighed with relief. “Okay. Okay, good,” she muttered, half to herself, thankful for a reason completely different from what Zach assumed. 

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A/N: After about a month and a half wait, I have finally plucked up the courage to post part 2!! After this there are only 3 more sections and if i feel like breaking some hearts, an alternate ending

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Part II: Catch

Bella tugged at her hood. Despite knowing it concealed her face well with the deep shadow created in the dim light, she needed something to do with her hands and hoped it would be succinct and subtle enough to not be noteworthy.

She jumped as Manic Alchemist spoke, ripping her hands away and tucking them together in her lap. He sat halfway across the room from her, legs crossed and leaning against an ebony high backed chair that screamed try-hard villain. “This is a surprisingly impromptu meeting for you,” he said, smooth and undaunted. Anyone who heard about him before actually hearing him was always surprised by the disconnect between his diction and his voice - a teenager with the everyday language of a college lecture. 

“Well,” Bella, the Crimson Programmer, said, fumbling. She was always terrible at lying with short notice. Twisting the finger of her new glove with her bare hand, she continued, “Sometimes I worry about you, squirt. Your ego took quite the beating this weekend. Maybe you need more of my tech to supplement your talents.” With a quiet pop as the Crimson Programmer squeezed her wrists, hidden capsules released a swarm of Crimson Nanites into the room. Perhaps her fiddling could pass the movement off as a nervous gesture.

Meanwhile, Manic Alchemist bristled at her jab. “Thank you for the offer,” he said, “but I don’t have the budget for any upgrades at the moment. You have a steep price.”

The Crimson Programmer forced lightness into her voice, saying, “Come on. Isn’t it worth it for the fee? I’m top of the line. You were lucky to find me.” She was desperately stalling for time. The cluttered room would increase travel time for the nanites. Disguised by her hood and minimal self control keeping her head trained on Manic Alchemist, her eyes sporadically flickered from the bots to him. Distantly she wondered what Zach would think. He obviously assumed she would use the glove she showed him, maybe other equipment she’d developed in his company, to apprehend a B-list villain. Theoretically, she could, but it was just so much easier to use her nanites. She was using the latest version, 6.3, which was exclusively for her personal use, since it was still in beta and far too dangerous and useful to put in anyone else’s hands. Besides, she deserved to treat herself with one of a kind new toys every once in a while. 

“Maybe,” Manic Alchemist said, breaking through her train of thought. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I have no money to spare! As you said so subtly, my attack this weekend failed, so everything I risked was lost.” Lights began flickering at the edge of the room; he was getting dangerously ticked off. While his anger would make him less observant, it would dramatically increase his likelihood of storming off or driving her out, and that would doom the easy picking he served as one of her more docile contacts.

“Don’t worry,” she said, trying to smooth over his frustration. “You can get new equipment on credit. Interest rates are very low, especially for regular high-paying customers like you, and I already have some updates planned for what you’ve purchased from me already.”

Manic Alchemist drummed his fingers on the sliver of free space at the table he sat at and said simply, “Perhaps.” The heat had drained from him, but his outburst had left both of them on edge, tense in biting, barely sustained diplomacy. 

At the prompting of a beep updating the Crimson Programmer on the Nanites’ progress, she jumped in. “Say that you did get the updates. For a reduced price, even. What would you do then?” She hoped the usual tactic of getting the Alchemist to talk about himself would be distraction enough. He loved gloating, even if he would never  admit it. Thankfully for his own sake, he only did it in secure spaces where he was sure no one would interrupt the schemes he revealed. Though amusing, it was embarrassing to watch villains monologue in front of heroes that would then effortlessly defeat them after the villains revealed their plans. 

Slowly at first, almost as though skepticism and tension from earlier was holding him back, Manic Alchemist began talking, which quickly became ranting, about his grand plans. He continued speaking while the Crimson Programmer barely paid attention to him as she glanced constantly at her overengineered watch that was receiving updates about the Nanites’ status. It was agonizing, watching them creep across the room, hindered by Manic Alchemist’s mess. They flickered in and out of sight, climbing the wreckage of experiments, hiding behind trash cans littering the floor, avoiding piles of unidentifiable goo. There was no clock on the wall, so the Crimson Programmer was certain time was flowing slower than molasses, taunting her with the potential of failure. What if he saw the nanites crawling across the room? Surely he would with their snail-like pace. 

Finally, finally, they reached Manic Alchemist’s scuffed and stained boots. So as to not make their presence immediately obvious, the Crimson Programmer tore her eyes away from the bots and forced herself to look Alchemist in the face without cringing away from the possibility of eye contact. Her subtly inclined head might tip him off otherwise. 

Now sitting forward, his black eyes glittered with passion, frenzy, delight, as he monologued about his ambitions for tearing apart chunks of the city. It was impossible to tune back into what Manic Alchemist said, so the Programmer just watched his hands fly, darting out and mimicking patrol routes and flight paths and explosions. It was strangely endearing. Absently, she wondered how she ended up working so closely on a regular basis with teenagers. One of his hands abruptly stilled and jerked to his scalp. Risking a glance at her watch, the Crimson Programmer saw the bots were almost in place. Manic Alchemist’s fingers continued to reach towards the Nanites. A few more millimeters and the plan would fall apart. 

There were no contingencies for her to fall back on.

“Hey!” the Crimson Programmer said, lurching forward and brandishing her glove-clad hand in his face. “You should see my newest project.”

Manic Alchemist froze, dropping his hands away from his head and leaning farther forward, eyes narrowed, intrigued. The Crimson Programmer barely withheld a sigh of relief. If he suspected anything from her interruption, he held back, likely his curiosity triumphing over any other trains of thought. Impatiently, he waved his hand in her direction, prompting her to continue.

“You see, there are chips in the fingers with wireless probes that detect and hijack electrical currents,” explained the Crimson Programmer. “The signals feed through the wires…” She trailed off, waiting for him to catch on, hoping the time he took to connect the dots would be enough for the Crimson Nanites to lock in position.

“And you can take control of whatever you’re holding with the glove. That’s brilliant!” Manic Alchemist said after a few seconds, sounding impressed, for once. Technology wasn’t his strong suit, and he was loathe to admit his shortcomings. 

“Thank you.”

“Aren’t you going to elaborate?”

“No,” the Crimson Programmer said as her watch buzzed, signaling the Nanites were in place. “I don’t need to stall for time anymore.”

“What? So none of your offers… What have you done?” Manic Alchemist said, panicking. His face was pale and strikingly obvious in the gloomy light. She had never seen him so unsettled, so scared.

“I'm sorry. Good night, my friend,” she said, the last two words dripping with mockery. With that, the Crimson Programmer pressed the capsules on her wrists again. Manic Alchemist stiffened, spasming once as his nervous system was tapped into, and collapsed bonelessly into his chair. If her ambitions weren’t on the line, she would have pitied his helpless form. “You were just too good of an opportunity to pass up.”

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me when i have a vague idea of two characters and half a plot:

rb and put in the tags whether 85f/29.5c is hot

auditory processing issues are like yes i can hear everything in this room no i didn’t hear what you said yes i will finish your sentence when you restart and no i will not know the answer to your question after all of this

WHOO!

You are a WRITER - you create entire worlds out of NOTHING!

You inspire using nothing but letters and numbers!!

You put images and paint pictures with words!!

You are INCREDIBLE and anyone that tells you otherwise really has no idea what you are, you badass you!