Captured

The look on Off’s face was priceless as I turned for one last look at the shambles I’d created with from his presentation. I reached for the door and a cloud of white powder burst from the covering me.

My invisibility no longer a function to rely on I needed to escape into the crowds of the city. Melbourne was always busy and even covered in white, I doubted I’d stand out, the door wouldn’t open and the strength I’d enjoyed moments before seemed to seep into the floor. Like a wet towel I crumpled, Arrestium, the cunning old fool had rigged the door with the only substance which could weaken me.

‘Peaches, so good of you to come,’ Off’s voice came from everywhere bursting into my ears like the gloating oaf he was, ‘I did like the dance you constructed for the poor private, but now you and I will dance to another tune entirely, I think.’

I felt somebody put there arms below me and carry me onto the stage and sit me in a chair directly below the spot light.

‘Gentlemen and ladies, Millennium Woman as you can see is helpless. Arrestium has done what it was designed to do.’ He turned to me and lifted my chin and whispered, ‘another one of your father’s inventions, little one.’

I’d hated the way he’d used those words to define me even as a child. I went to speak, but couldn’t. I was completely under his control.

‘However,’ he continued, ‘we have an antidote. It is now time, Millennium Woman to work for me…’

Dr. Off

Dr Nicholas Off sauntered to the lectern, behind him his face filled three massive screens and I could see him enjoying the moment, even exaggerating his acknowledgement of the audience.

To me, he looked more like a puffer fish in a lab coat that he had outgrown and it was easy to assume he lived alone. A rumble went through the audience as a junior military man carried a white wombat toward the doctor. He passed him the wombat’s lead, it edged to the front of the lectern and chewed something green. I surmised this was the famous Alby and probably, Dr Off’s only friend.

After a boring preamble Dr Off clapped his hands and introduced Private Dennis Dane, one of his staff who helped him develop this exciting project that was about to revolutionise both the labour force and warfare.

I looked at the royal blue suit worn by the unlucky private, it was similar to the one Dad had built me, a prototype and I was guessing complete with the glitches that had made my life horrid when I wore it for any length of time. I wanted to override the suit with my controller, have him do the Macarena without music, that should spice the meeting up, but I resisted.

Off began his demonstration, ‘designed originally to help patients with central nervous system disorders the QBS suit has unbridled opportunity for the modern military combatants.’ Applause from the generals encouraged him. ‘For the purpose of today’s presentation have a sample on show and, Private Dane, has volunteered to demonstrate the unit for us.’

A medium sized SUV was driven onto the stage, Dane bent down and using both hands rolled the vehicle onto its side. Walking to the other side he rolled the car back onto its wheels. The crowd was warming to the action and begged for more.

‘Dennis, the driver is trapped in there,’ Off shouted, ‘you must get her out.’

‘Sir.’ With that Private Dane ripped the door from its hinges helping the driver to her feet.

‘Ms Sandra Strange,’ Off was smiling in the way of all evil, ‘another one of my junior assistants.’ The applause rose again.

It was too much, using a couple of my devices I hacked into the sound system and hijacked it. The Macarena was in the play list so now it was time to party. I pressed play and left the auditorium wishing I’d learnt to Samba.

Peaches has to die - 17th April 2013

I sat at the back of the auditorium and listened, using my invisibility function I managed to avoid the guards. When the room darkened, I turned it off. No one would notice another face in this crowd. Now, I was on the track of those who murdered my parents, but there was more at stake here than me, my quasar senses had me on full alert and I could smell treachery right through the room.

It’s been a few years since someone had murdered them and hijacked my father’s research, but I had little idea that it was a hit directed from somewhere within our own Government. These same people who encouraged and financed the project also conspired toward my father’s murder. 

A laboratory accident the coroner ruled, after the inquest I was hungry for answers to questions still to be asked.

There were too many questions he neither thought about, or was told not to ask. My mother would never be in his laboratory at home during that time of day. I had memorised their routines for years and she should have been lecturing at the time of the explosion.

Death by misadventure they told me. Apparently, I was lucky because had I not been at school, I too would have perished in the fire. Only a slab of concrete outlined the footprint where our home once stood. Without them, I didn’t know how to cope, wheelchair bound and orphaned. Now Peaches had to die too, Millennium Woman could rise and I knew exactly what to do next.

I’d held Aunt Chloe’s hand at their funeral and was wheeled to the graveside by an usher. The preacher passed me a bucket of sand and as he said ashes to ashes, sand slipped through my fingers, I watched it falling and as she said dust to dust, it sprinkled onto their caskets. I watched for a second and I swear I heard the sand whisper, ‘Avenge us.’ I might have made that vow as Peaches, but it would be as Millennium Woman I would exact justice.