Interlude: Anne Drake

“You talking to Nick yet?” Sally asked.

Anne swallowed. “I haven’t had a chance yet. He hasn’t come to school since he got back from America.”

“There’s these things called phones. I know both of you have them.”

“I can’t just call him.”

“Suit yourself. He’s back in class today, though, so you might want to figure out what you’re going to say?”

“I’ll have to apologize, I just don’t know how.”

“It’s really easy,” Sally grinned wickedly. “Make cute eyes and go ‘I’m so sorry, Nick, can you please forgive me?’”

“.... I’m not going to try that.”

“Well, you could flip it around. Demand an apology from him for upsetting you.”

“Honestly, where do you come up with these ideas?”

The wicked grin widened. “Practice. How was your famous Theory of Tactics class?”

“I met your mom. And Charlotte’s dad.”

“Yeah, she mentioned. Must be weird, having my mom as your classmate. Did she confess to anything interesting?”

“I’m not getting you blackmail material on your mom. Besides, she was pretty nice.”

“I dare you to tell that to her unit…. on second thoughts, forget it. They’d probably be more scared of you.”

“I’m not scary, Sally!”

“Says the woman who fights aliens as a hobby. How many Carnotaurs has your brother killed so far?”

“.... sorta lost count. In any case, that would make Andrew the scary one.”

“You bullied him for jalebis.”

“I don’t bully him. I merely suggest, as a good sister should, that older siblings should once in a while share the results of their culinary expertise.”

“Right. Snag me a few next time. Hey, Reg,” Sally greeted their classmate as he walked up grinning. “What died to make you this happy today?”

“Some very salty quail, and I’m happy about more than breakfast. Found a new video online that you’re gonna love.”

“And why would I risk my sanity by watching a video that you picked?”

Reg’s grin widened. “Because it’s a new Belessar video.”

“Andrew hasn’t been in any fights recently,” Anne said. “Are you sure it’s one of his videos?”

“It’s not that kind of video,” Reg smirked.

“Reg, shut up!” hissed Sally. “That’s her brother you’re talking about!”

“Hey, I’m not an idiot!” Reg protested. “It’s not that kind of video either!”

“Well, what kind of video is it?” asked Sally.

“The kind that plays best on a big screen. Want to check it out on Charlotte’s laptop?”

“What happened to yours?”

“A tiny accident at breakfast involving Thai peanut dipping sauce. You want to see it or not?”

Sally glanced at Anne.

Anne shrugged. “Let’s see it.”

“Cool, because I sent it to Charlotte already. She’s in the common room.”

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Reg led the way to the common room, where Charlotte had her laptop open, with Flavia and Nick hunched behind her. 

“Anne!” Flavia waved. “You’ve got to see this video. And tell us if it’s real.”

“She can’t see it if you two hog the screen,” Sally remarked. “Move over, Flavs. Nick, you good?”

“Fine,” mumbled Nicholas. “Just got back today.”

Anne swallowed. “Hello, Nick.”

The boy gave her a smile - a small one, but genuine. “Hi, Anne.”

It felt good. “Nick…”

“... move over,” Reg interrupted unceremoniously. “You’re still hogging the view.”

“Anne, you should be in the centre,” Sally said. “Or we won’t get to know if the video’s real.”

That would put her right next to Nick. “I’m good here.”

“Are we talking or am I playing this thing?” asked Charlotte. 

“Play it, Eden!” exclaimed Reg.

Sighing internally, Anne peeked from the edge of the group at the video. By the looks of it, someone had shot it using a camera phone. She could see the interior of the Farnborough BAE-Dragonfly plant - she certainly had enough nanobots in there to recognize it, thanks to Andrew - and, yes, that was indeed her brother.

Standing in the middle of a row of mannequin stands.

Andrew’s hand rose into the air, and ….

Objects climbed onto the mannequin stand - metal ingots, wires, a bunch of smartphones, and what looked like a laptop - and warped themselves into a suit of Boar Armour. 

It looked almost like they’d risen from the ground.

Andrew turned, jerking his head in the opposite direction at a speed Anne had only seen him manifest in combat. His other arm rose, and more objects crawled up the stand, with a Boar Armour suit ready in seconds.

That’s too fast, she thought to herself.

Her brother moved forward, far too swiftly, and pointed his left arm at another stand, where another suit of armour rose from the ground. Or, from the pile of components piled around the stand, now that she noticed it. 

And then he turned and repeated the process - again. 

In seconds, he’d moved to the next pair of mannequins, raising suits of armour upon them, and then to the next. And the next.

An endless march of Boar Class Combat Armour suits rose in his wake, as he strode forward. 

Dimly, Anne was aware of music. The music that accompanied the video - a familiar, thrumming beat. Of trumpets and drums.

It was Flavia who picked it up. “That’s the Imperial March,” the girl said. “From Star Wars.”

“It sounds …” Anne thought for a second. “Very action-movie.”

“It’s the song that plays when Darth Vader shows up,” said Reg.

“.... Oh. That’s not good, is it?”

“I think it’s cool!”

“Shut up, Reg,” Charlotte said, amused. “Anne, is this video real?”

“It kinda looks edited? Andrew can’t put together a Boar suit that fast. Plus, he doesn’t move like that except when he’s fighting.”

“You mean he can move that fast when he’s fighting?”

“Well, yeah, he’s got to dodge bullets after all.”

“He can seriously dodge bullets?” Reg asked. “I thought that was a rumour.”

“... It’s sort of complicated? He can dodge them sometimes, and I’m not discussing anything more about his powers.”

“You mean other than the fact that he can raise armies from the ground?” Reg said. “The guy who posted it says he set it at six times normal speed.”

“Oh, that explains it. Andrew putting together a Boar set in three seconds doesn’t make sense, eighteen does.”

“And the stuff flying upwards by itself?” asked Flavia.

Anne thought for a second. “He’s probably levitating the parts into position, then assembling the suit in place. Yeah, seems legit, though I don’t know who recorded him.”

“Anne,” Sally said, “do you mean that Andrew can actually - assemble suits like that? Pull an entire army out of scraps in seconds?”

“They aren’t scraps, but yeah, he can. Why?”

Sally pursed her lips. “Anne, can I show this video to my producers?”

“It’s already public, so sure, but why?”

“Do you know the kind of scenes they make me do for Starwing?”

Anne shrugged. “Starwing’s supposed to be a flyer plus Herculean combo, right?”

“Flying and punching people out. Yes. According to my producers, that’s all people expect of a superhero.” Sally’s eyes blazed. “I tried to talk them into doing a scene on social issues. On education. On visiting the London memorial. On being more than just a pretty face… They said that such scenes were boring. That people won’t watch them.” 

“I don’t get it.”

“Anne, your brother just made working a factory floor look like the coolest thing in the world. I want to take this video and rub it in the screenwriter’s face.”

“She’s got a point,” Nick spoke up. “Too much of what we see on TV doesn’t reflect the real world. You should talk to the producers for sure.”

“I don’t see the harm,” Anne said. “If it helps you, go ahead.”

“I kinda want to see this place,” Reg muttered. “It looks cool.”

“You want to visit the Farnborough factory?” asked Anne.

“It does sort of look cool,” Charlotte chimed in. “I mean, there’s stuff levitating all over the place, armies springing up from the ground…. if that’s what factory work is like, why do people think it’s boring?”

“I guess it’s a little less exciting when you don’t have an ultrahuman around,” said Nicholas. “But it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

“Could make a picnic out of it,” Flavia said. “And the parentals have been pressuring me to make more meaningful content anyway. Say, Anne, can you get us in?”

“I could ask my Dad,” Anne said. “But… are you guys serious? It’s a factory.”

“Sorta hoping to get Belessar on my next post, actually. He’s awesome for engagement.”

“You mean he’s hot,” Charlotte said, absent-mindedly. “Oh, sorry, Anne.”

“... I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” sighed Anne. “I’ll ask my Dad.”

“Does your dad really need to give permission?” asked Flavia. “Andrew’s an adult, amirite?”

“Dad’s the HR director at BAE-Dragonfly.”

“Ah, that makes sense. So he runs the place?”

“He’s the HR director. Gideon Troy is the CEO, he actually runs the place.”

“Not according to the Daily Mail,” chimed in Reg. “They say Belessar runs the place and the employees do what he asks. It’s his secret factory-fortress.”

“The BAE-Dragonfly compound isn’t a fortress. It isn’t even secret - you can drive up there from London in a couple of hours.”

“Mum says it takes fifteen minutes,” mused Nick.

“Your mum flies helicopters,” pointed out Reg. “Of course it would take her fifteen minutes.”

“Are we sure the school will give permission?” asked Anne.

“We’re supposed to do school tours every year, like visiting museums, places of interest, et cetera,” Nick said. “A factory might be stretching it, but I can probably persuade the headmaster to agree.”

“On that happy note, we have a plan,” Charlotte said. “Anne - you convince your dad and brother, and Nick - you work it out with the headmaster.”

As the others dispersed, Nick approached her. “Anne…”

“... I’m so sorry,” Anne blurted out. 

“.... I’m sorry to have been rude,” Nick continued.

Pause.

Breathe.

“Er… I mean to say,” Nick said slowly, “that I want to apologize for, er, chasing you out of the room.”

Anne swallowed. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have told you - I know it was supposed to be a secret…”

“... maybe this isn’t the best place to talk about this,” sighed Nick. “Look - I want to apologize to you properly, without the off-chance that Reg or Sally will be listening in. And definitely not in the middle of the common room. Can we meet for a soda, maybe tomorrow after school? My treat?”

“Fifty-fifty,” Anne replied. “We split the check.”

“All right. I’ll pick you up after school - have you ever had a dirty ice cream?”

“Why would I want my ice cream dirty?”

Nick grinned. “Let me introduce you to one of London's best-kept secrets, then.”

As Nick walked off, Anne wondered for a second why someone would make an ice cream dirty.

Except….

It struck her that there were two possible meanings to that word.