self_composed | super speed and other exceptional abilities

Wisconsin fast plants (so called because they are from Wisconsin, fast-growing, and plants) are the subject of Bella and Bridget's chosen bio experiment. It involves taking at least some measurements after sunset - Bella managed to find an exact specific experiment design that hasn't been done before, when she heard they were allowed to choose their own, and even though all it will determine is whether indoor plants without windows can "tell if it's night" even if you leave the light on all the time, she is slightly excited about this.

She meets Bridget there. They measure their plants in the lit room and the dark room, take pictures, and write down subjective evaluations of leaf droopiness. They leave.

They're about a third of the way to Bella's building when a man's voice behind them says, "Hello, girls."

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From:

self_composed

"Just wanna talk," says the guy. He's tall, and not much of his face is visible in the dark. He's also wearing sunglasses for some reason. "Isn't it much nicer when people can talk to each other? Goes much smoother. Say hello."

From:

regularsized

"Get lost," she suggests.

From:

self_composed

"That's not hello," says the man.

There is a loud bang.

Bella ramps up to 6x and whirls around with what seems like absurd slowness at that runspeed. She's not in pain - he missed or didn't shoot at her - but she has coins, she triangles the gun jammed, that could happen by itself, right? She pentagons aikido, knocks his gun arm aside like she's still afraid of it, locks his wrist when he grabs for her and drives him to the ground and breaks it. "Bridget. Bridget, are you okay?"

Edited Date: 2012-10-19 05:46 pm (UTC)

From:

regularsized

"I'm fine," Bridget says wryly.

A flattened bullet falls to the ground from somewhere in the vicinity of her shoulderblades. There is a large, obvious hole through the back of her jacket that matches another large, obvious hole in the shirt beneath, but her skin is unmarked.

From:

self_composed

Bella stares.

She didn't do that.

The guy is trying to kick her from his pinned position. She twists the broken wrist again and he screams.

"Call the cops," she says.

Pause.

"If you tie your jacket around your shoulders they'll be less likely to haul you off to a lab and prevent me from asking you a great many questions."

From:

regularsized

"I hate when that happens," says Bridget, although she doesn't clarify what exactly 'that' is.

She also, after a little rearranging, manages to find a configuration for the jacket that does not reveal any suspicious holes. Then she picks up the ex-bullet and tucks it into her purse. Then she calls the cops.

From:

self_composed

"They're going to know the gun was fired," Bella says under her breath. "O Dr. Physicist, put it somewhere so it could've flattened against a wall or the sidewalk and bounced there, please."

"You freaks," starts their attacker. Bella puts her knee on his neck in a cheap version of a sleeper hold and his eyes roll back in his head and he falls unconscious.

From:

regularsized

Bridget shrugs, walks down the street a little ways, polishes the ex-bullet with the sleeve of her jacket, and tosses it at a sewer grate. It falls in.

From:

self_composed

"That works too."

Bella gets up off the guy - she'll be able to catch him if he wakes up sooner than she expects. She waits for the cops.

From:

regularsized

When the cops do show up, Bridget is unusually soft-spoken and laconic. She does a credible imitation of someone who was just shot at and is finding it a traumatic experience.

From:

self_composed

Bella's impression is of someone who has actually practiced aikido at some point. (She's going to have to think of a place she could reasonably picked that up; Youtube demonstrations wouldn't give her muscle memory.) Also someone whose response to trauma is mania rather than withdrawal. She jabbers quickly in grammatically incorrect sentences and has to expend a square to actually produce the name of the throw she used. She waves her arm wildly when asked where the gun was fired. "It didn't hit me but oh god it was so loud and I thought he got Bridget and I just it was like oh my god!" she exclaims, trembling for effect.

From:

regularsized

Bridget's main contribution to this line of inquiry is looking subdued and nodding along with Bella.

From:

self_composed

The police collect phone numbers and escort them to within eyeshot of Bella's building.

"Okay," Bella says. "Spill."

From:

regularsized

"By 'spill' do you mean tell you why I am impervious to bullets?" asks Bridget. "Because it's kind of a long story and not one I am particularly keen on dragging out in the middle of the street."

From:

self_composed

"Janine is home. Do you have a better idea for a location?"

From:

regularsized

"I'm not sure if my place is really a better idea, considering it's a fifteen-minute walk away, but it's an idea."

From:

self_composed

"Are you also invulnerable to motorcycle accidents?" Bella asks, gesturing at Tegu in the parking lot.

From:

regularsized

"Completely."

From:

self_composed

"I bet it's a shorter ride than a walk," says Bella, stalking towards her bike. "Shall we?"

From:

regularsized

"Okay," says Bridget, following.

From:

self_composed

Bella keeps the riding gear in the saddlebags, which have combination locks on them now; she doesn't bother with the full kit, but does put on the jacket and the helmet. "On you go," she says. "Point, within my field of vision, for turns; I might not be able to hear you," she adds before dropping the helmet in place and putting one leg over her bike.

When Bridget is securely in place, Bella starts up and heads out.

From:

regularsized

It is in fact a pretty short ride on the bike, to a small, unremarkable apartment building where Bridget leads Bella up to a small, unremarkable apartment.

"Do you mind if I change my shirt first?" she asks as she closes the door behind them.

From:

self_composed

"Go ahead," says Bella, sitting in the first chair she sees.

From:

regularsized

Bridget darts into her bedroom and emerges about ten seconds later wearing the first shirt she grabbed.

"There, that's better," she says, and leans on the arm of her couch.

"So, I'm impervious to physical injury. I haven't always been. It started when I was a kid. You remember I told you my parents weren't funny? Well, my dad was the kind of not funny that lends itself to noticing when one day you can't get hurt anymore. I hope I don't have to draw you a picture."

She shrugs.

"Questions?"