I noticed that he wasn’t taking his eyes of the strange man. He was staring at a small protrusion in his jacket pocket, motionless.
So,” the man said slowly. “You must be Britain’s greatest defenders?”
There was a short, uncomfortable pause.
Yeah,” I said, “we’re Britain’s Greatest Defenders. But we’re not that Britain’s Greatest Defenders.”
No,” Leo agreed. “We’re the other Britain’s Greatest Defenders. The ones you’re after are in London making a public appearance.”
Marrow shrugged. “Sorry.”
The man frowned. “What?”
No, seriously,” I said. “Look, they’re on the news and everything.” I pointed to the screen. The gill boy was talking about global warming.
I wouldn’t be so sure,” he said slowly.
Maid-17 jumped to his feet. “Armed.”
Leo scrambled up after him, closely followed by the rest of us.
The man whipped a small pistol out of his jacket pocket and pointed it straight at Marrow’s head. “Try anything funny and I will not hesitate to pull this trigger.”
Marrow rolled his eyes back and shut them, groaning like this was just another daily inconvenience. I wondered how tough the world of accountancy must be for him to just take a murder threat so casually.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Leo said, raising his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “No guns in the living room. Anyway, you don’t bring a gun into a room full of superheroes. That’s not smart.”
Superheroes?” the man scoffed. “Heroism isn’t really part of your day-to-day life any more, is it? You’re just a gang of broke twenty-somethings watching the real heroes to all fighting. Genetic experiments gone wrong. Him.” He jerked his gun, gesturing towards Marrow. “Which one’s he? Is he like your gill one? He looks useless.”
We don’t have a gill one,” I said, affronted. “That’s a terrible power.”
What’s he then?”
He’s Marrow,” I said proudly.
The man frowned. “Like the vegetable?”
Marrow winced. “No, like bones…god…every time…”
He shrugged, satisfied. “So who’s the bionic eye one? I’m guessing you, Metal-Face?”
Leo’s mouth dropped. “Don’t call him Metal-Face. How would you like it if we called you Flesh-Face?”
“I don’t know,” he said, confused. “Fine, I guess? Bit creeped out, but overall pretty okay…” he trailed off. “I’m asking the questions here. I want to know if Metal-Face has a bionic eye like the Saviour kid.”
Rolling his eyes, Maid-27 said, “Of course I have a bionic eye, I have a bionic everything.”
Oh! I heard about you!” The man’s grip on his gun slackened in excitement. “You were built as our first and last Droid, right? You’re self-aware!” His face fell. “If you’re a giant killing machine with outlets for flamethrowers and small WMDs then how come you’re a slim bloke in khakis?”
He blinked slowly. “I downgraded. It was in nearly every newspaper. I joined Maid-Corp. I wasn’t really into the whole armed combat thing, and honestly cleaning was just my passion. Also I like khakis,” he stated.
The man grunted, begrudgingly accepting it. “And you?” he demanded, swinging round to point the gun at Leo. “What do you do?”
Mainly mooch off society and steal pretentious food,” I said.
That’s not really a genetic enhancement.”
Leo grinned. “But I do it so well.”
Eyeing the gun with a grimace, Maid-17 said, “Why are you even here? What do you want with us? You already know we’re not the Super Saviours.”
Oh,” the man said, turning to him with a smile. “I just wanted to see what you were made of.”
He pulled the trigger.
