Short Story Serial: 2nd installment

Leonard knocked on the door of the studio apartment. He couldn’t believe his luck. He had a gig! Chance told him it wasn’t going to be easy, but he didn’t care.

Of course, it’s not how he envisioned his start. But a sparring partner was something. Even if it was for a declared villain. But Chance said she was second-tier. Second-tier!

“Come on in,” he heard in response to his knock. Well, at least she sounded nice, Leonard thought, becoming hopeful.

Until he opened the door. As it swung wide, something flashed by his head, missing him by only inches. Whatever it was embedded itself in the wall. It looked like – it looked like a woman’s dress shoe, but with a knife where the heel should have been. The knife itself was vibrating slightly while buried in the wall.

“Hey! What the –“

“Move fast!” came the warning, quickly followed by another knife/shoe hurtling towards his head.

Leonard dropped to the ground. The second shoe missile landed right next to the first one.

“Well, at least you’re quick,” said the barefoot woman at the far end of the sparsely furnished apartment. “I’ll give you that much.”

“What was that? What did you – how did you –” Leonard sputtered as he got up from the floor.

“Object-specific transmutation,” was the response. “In my case, I transform whatever I’m wearing on my feet – socks, sandals, slippers – into whatever kind of footwear I can imagine. In your case, I went with stiletto heels.”

“Yeah, but the heels are real stilettos – you know – knives!” Leonard protested.

The woman smiled, enjoying her Leonard’s discomfort. “It’s always important to create a great first impression. I’m Kicks. And you are?”

Leonard was about to say Crisscross, but then he remembered Chance’s reaction. “I’m working on that,” he said instead.

“Aren’t we all,” offered Kicks. “So, tell me about your ability. I’m really hoping for a challenge. Do you breathe fire? Or maybe you’re super-fast. But it would be great if you could breathe fire.”

Leonard explained what he did as enthusiastically as he could. He wanted to impress as well.

“Oh,” was Kicks’ response, making no effort to hide the disappointment. She then sat on the floor and put on a pair of no-slip, low-rise socks, the kind patients are given at hospitals.

“I have to have something on my feet to transform, otherwise I’m powerless,” Kicks explained. “Hospital socks are light, inexpensive, and easy to put on.”

She then stood up and looked at Leonard appraisingly. “Well, I need to practice and you’re here. So, let’s get started.”

Leonard nodded eagerly. “Okay, what do you want me to –“

“Run!”

For the next two weeks, Leonard put all his energy into being a sparring partner, which mostly entailed trying to stay alive while dodging a variety of deadly footwear including hobnail boots, steel-toed work shoes, sharply pointed oxfords, and the occasional wooden clog, which could really leave a mark.

He also got to know Kicks. Transmutation might have been her power, but what really made her formidable was her ability to launch her footwear with force and precision. It turned out she was a trained dancer and gymnast.

Leonard also didn’t think she was particularly villainous. Mischievous maybe, but that was all as far as he could tell. He asked her about it after one of their sparring sessions.

“It’s about independence. Have you ever noticed that villains seldom team up? And even when they do, it’s temporary. So, as a professional villain, I get to work by myself. The other thing is that heroes only work when there are villains to battle, so they have no control over their schedule. If a villain decides to work only after midnight, then the hero has no choice but to work the same hours. I, on the other hand, can work when I want. And heroes are entirely dependent on villains for job security. No villain, no work. It was an easy decision, really.”

“What about good and evil and all that?” asked Leonard.

“First of all, I’m not running around trying to hurt anyone or take over the world. I focus on high-end theft – jewels, art, rare coins, that sort of thing. And the people and institutions who have those things also have plenty of insurance, so the only hurt is to their egos. I can live with that.”

“Sounds like a rationalization,” commented Leonard.

Kicks thought about that for a moment. “Maybe it is. Now, are you going to start running or am I going to knock you out cold you with a pair of disco-era platform shoes?”

Leonard’s job as a moving target lasted for a couple of months, until one day Kicks announced she would be going out of town for a while. She thanked him for his enthusiasm, and even offered to let him stay at her studio apartment if he wanted, but he declined.

The truth was that he had been thinking about moving on. After all, he needed to find a way to work on his own abilities. It wasn’t that he hadn’t benefitted from his gig with Kicks. In fact, he was quicker than ever – much quicker – both on his feet and in his decision-making. He even had time to come up with a new name.

“’Mixmaster!’ What do you think?” he asked Kicks.

“Sounds like you’re a kitchen appliance,” she responded. “Keep trying. You’ll come up with something.”

After their last training session, Leonard walked to the door and turned to say goodbye. Surprisingly, he realized he was a little sad. He looked over to Kicks, who was putting on a pair of those low-rise hospital socks she always carried with her, but she didn’t seem to notice he was leaving.

As Leonard opened the door, he was startled by the sound of high-velocity footwear flying by his head and thumping against the wall. He looked down at the floor where he saw a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers.

He spun around to see Kicks laughing. “Something to remember me by.”