B2 23-24 - Chef Ramsey Fieri and Something Different

Here's the 'Oops I messed up' chapters from last week. I'll post more on Friday, and we'll be all caught up!

23 - Chef Ramsey Fieri

Tuesday, February 10

- - - - -

“We have options,” I announced after reading the physical sign-up posted on the Student Union Building’s wall. “But they’re not all great ones. We can leave on March 21. That’s Saturday, but the driver’s only going halfway. He’s got a girlfriend in some tiny town between here and Riverside. I don’t know if Mom has the day off, so she might not pick us up until Sunday. And we’d need to—“

“Sounds like too much work for everyone,” Bee interrupted. “Next?”

“Friday morning. I’d miss, uh, Creative Writing and Ilneat Politics, and I can’t afford to miss either. And you’d miss
?”

“Biomes, which I can totally miss, and Fencing Two, which I can’t.”

When you got down to it, the ride-share system at TU was downright archaic. Sign up for classes? Website. Joining a club? Online. Want to form a study group or get tickets for a Rams game? The university’s page had you covered. But ride-share for Spring Break? Write down your name, car, license plate, and destination on a sheet of paper taped to the SUB’s wall, then hope the right people sign up on the same paper. It wasn’t even an official-looking list; every time it filled up, the student government just taped another sheet to the bottom like a scroll.

And no one wanted to head west.

“Well, that’s what we’ve got, Bee. Miss classes or inconvenience my mom and maybe get stuck in the middle of nowhere. Can you check and see if there’s a hotel in Gypsum?”

“Yes, but they’re probably pretty pricey, and most could be closed down for the season,” Bee replied. “Let’s just sign up for the Friday one and
see if we can figure something else out, I guess?”

I scribbled ‘Anika DuPont and Bianca Marino’ under the ride-share, but I didn’t like it. Missing Combat Styles Practicum could put me hopelessly behind; I’d been winning half my practice bouts, and the Style Points were a much-needed boost that, in theory, would let me hold my own against minor-league opponents without Tele-Portal’s help. But missing it meant missing the best training I’d get that week.

“It’ll be fine,” Bee said as we left toward my apartment. “We can work hard over Spring Break and make up the difference.”

“How? There aren’t any villains in Riverside. Not anymore.”

“We’ll
think of something,” Bee said. She poked me in the side, and I squealed. “Either that, or we can use it as a time to relax and not do the super thing for a bit. That way, you can hit it really hard in April and catch up without giving Vigilant Vow time to respond. Either way, though, let’s head back to your place.”

February clouds sat overhead much like January’s had; the winters in Tokyexico were one long slog. My most recent Patrol with Tele-Portal had been focused on investigation, though—we’d hunted for any sign of Polar Vortex or Black Ice trying for the electric grid again, and found nothing. So, I felt pretty confident that this wasn’t another freak November storm.

Which didn’t make me any warmer. Somehow, Bee, despite being a Tortuga West girl, seemed more comfortable in the ice and snow than me! It wasn’t fair; I should be used to this crap, but when we got to my apartment, it was me snuggling into Bianca for warmth every day.

“I’m so excited!” Bianca squeaked as soon as the door shut. “Your parents are probably totally awesome, and I want to meet Collidus! I bet he’s got all sorts of stories from being your sidekick. You might as well tell me them now and save yourself the embarrassment later.”

“I’m pretty excited, too,” I said. And I was. It’d been far too long; August was the last time I’d seen Mom and Dad in person. Had it really been that long? I shivered a little, either from being sad or being cold. Spring Break was still a month away, but I’d made it five months already. I could survive one more. Plus, the Man vs. Nature was officially over. The Triad had dug the last D-wolver out from its lair near the wall, and the turbo-buffalo herd was long gone.

I was ready to go home.

But, like I said, that was a month away. “Got homework?”

“Yep,” Bianca said, opening her overstuffed backpack and pulling out an E.O. Wilson book. “I’m studying ants and their hive structures in different environments, as well as super-colonies.”

I grabbed my laptop and headed for the bedroom. “That sounds way more interesting than what I’m working on.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Bianca asked as she threw herself onto my bed and lay on her back, flipping through her book to find her place.

“’Local’ power structures in Ilneat Politics. I have to write an essay on the pseudo-feudal system in the systems near Earth and how it impacts Ilneat/Earth relations. The problem is that I don’t see any of that at play with Rocko. I think Doctor Quailman is full of shit, and there’s a guest lecturer this Friday night. I’m going to ask a real Ilneat some questions and see if I can trap my professor in some mistruths. But I need to turn this essay in first.”

“Alright. Lay down and get to work.” Bianca patted her stomach, and I rested my head on her and my laptop on my legs. It was precarious—especially when she turned a page in her book—but comfy.

â—„â–Œâ–ș

The principles of rulership on Ilneat frontier planets are simple. Rather than directly interfering with local politics, Ilneats generally make deals that gradually give them increased power over the local population. They rarely abuse this power, though. Instead, they seem content to siphon off resources or a product from the locals, generally allowing culture and politics to continue unhindered.

“I give up!” I screamed. I’d been working on this stupid essay for an hour. It wasn’t even due until Friday. I shut my laptop and rolled my head off Bee’s stomach—I’d just woken her up, and the light up-and-down of her breathing had been replaced with tense muscles. “This is all just bullshit. It’s probably not even how any of it works.”

“Show me,” Bee said, sitting up. I opened the laptop again, and she skimmed what I’d written. “That sounds like the movie studios and Launch Day, right? They moved in, set up a deal to rebuild Earth in exchange for the whole studio world thing, and haven’t done much else. The product is superhero movies and TV shows. In other words, us.”

“Huh.” That did make more sense. “I guess when you’re caught up in it your whole life, you don’t really see it. I don’t think it’s as nefarious as Doctor Quailman says it is, either. But I can’t know for sure. He wrote the damn book.”

“Take a break. Something else is on your mind. You can talk to me about it—I’m all ears.”

I sighed. Bee knew something was up. I hadn’t told her about Gourmet’s special request or the Gourmet Costume, but maybe now was the time—at least for half of it. “I got a new Costume after the KRTU round table.”

“Really! Tell me about it! Is it Monologue? I bet Avan’s actually Monologue. It’d be such a great disguise. I thought Su-Bin might be Gourmet for a while since she’s always got a soda and Gourmet’s whole thing is food, but they’ve been in the same place at the same time, so it can’t be her. But Avan as Monologue makes so much sense.”

“It’s not Monologue, and Avan’s a freshman. He can’t be Monologue, since he’s been running the SSS for years.” I narrowed my eyes at Bee jokingly. “Hey, you said you weren’t the type to dig into secret identities.”

“Well, I can speculate. As long as I don’t try to prove anything, guessing is fun!” Bianca blushed. She’d known my identity instantly last semester, and I jokingly reminded her about it all the time now.

“Anyway, it’s not Monologue. It’s Gourmet, and it’s
probably the weirdest Costume I’ve ever gotten.”

“Let me see!”

I nodded slowly. “Go get me a snack. I need a snack to make it work. Then meet me in the green room. I’ll show you the costume, then tell you about its powers.”

She nodded and headed for the kitchen while I grabbed Tails and went through my transformation sequence. The new outfit still felt strange; I’d been in my classic look for five years, and the new one felt luxurious and glamorous especially the gold highlights.

Bee came in with an apple. “Really?” I asked, but I bit down into it anyway. It tasted crisp, fresh, and
wrong. I tossed it aside and spun around, brow wrinkled and a look of faux-disgust plastered on my face. “You didn’t fucking cook this. It’s raw!”

Bee opened her mouth for a retort, but the smell of garlic and oregano filled the air. A kitchen knife with a star on its pommel appeared in my hand in place of my wand, and an apron rolled down over my dress. The finishing touch was a chef’s hat far too big for me; I’d complained to Pataki about it, but they didn’t seem to care.

The weird thing about the Magical Girl Ramsey Fieri Costume wasn’t the food theme or the star-and-moon apron. It wasn’t even the silly chef’s hat or the obvious reference to old-time celebrity chefs. I’d expected something dumb like that, given what Gourmet had said about it being based on one of her experimental builds. No, that wasn’t the weird thing. It was the powers themselves. They had basically no combat applications.

[Costume - Dark Girl Ramsey Fieri]

[HP 8/8]

[Styles and Skills]

â–șArchetype Skill - Transformation Sequence

â–șBadass

â–șCunning

â–șJust a Pinch of Spice 0

â–șDrama

â–șSpeed-Plating 0

â–șHometown Heroine 1

â–șFlamboyance

â–șSignature Skill - Adaptive Armoire 1

â–șStored Costumes: (Understudy)

â–șSpotlight Strike 1

â–șGrit

â–șIron Stomach 0

“Okay, this is the Gourmet costume,” I said. “It’s Magical Girl Ramsey Fieri, and it’s
not a villain costume, somehow. But it’s also not a hero. I think the best descriptor would be vigilante, but that doesn’t fit perfectly. It’s got three powers, but I haven’t been able to try them out. The first is Cunning. [Just a Pinch of Spice]. It, and I quote, ‘lets me measure out the perfect amount of any ingredient, for anything.”

“Anything, huh?” Bianca asked. “Like, gunpowder for a bomb or poison for a meal?”

“Food. It’s about food. Especially because the second new power is [Speed-Plating]. It’s a presentation-focused ability that lets me quickly arrange small objects to be aesthetically pleasing. I’d imagine that as I powered it up, it’d let me arrange bigger and bigger things, but at level 0, it covers a couple of plates at a time.”

“Level 0? I never get Level 0 powers.”

“Yeah, that’s a quirk of my Signature Skill. The powers on my Costumes are always weak. Can we hurry this up? I’m starving.” My Costumes all had quirks, whether Lab Assistant Panic’s evil streak, Rainy Day’s age change, or Copy Cat’s personality merge with Tails. Ramsey Fieri was judgemental about food and hungry. All. The. Time. Was this what Gourmet felt like?

“Sure. Sorry.” Bianca sat down on the couch. “What else do you have in that toolkit?”

“[Iron Stomach]. I can eat whatever I want. I can’t benefit from different types of food at this low level, but this is Gourmet’s Signature Skill. It’s how she powers up. Remember when she ate the—“

“—Yes, the wrestling singlet. So gross.”

“Yeah, well, I can do that now.”

“Disgusting. Switch back, please,” Bee said.

I did. “Anyways, Gourmet didn’t give this to me out of the goodness of her heart. I’m supposed to do an Episode with her sometime this month. She claims it shouldn’t be a big deal, and I’ll be in this Costume the whole time, so I should be untraceable back to Understudy. But I need to talk to Rocko so Episode doesn’t get run on Earth if I get caught.”

“Fine. I’m going too. Let me know when the Episode is, and I’ll be there to make sure she’s not plotting something with Theseus,” Bianca said, standing up. “I bet she is.”

“I don’t think so. She seemed upset about something and said she needed the money from a couple of quick Episodes. I’m not sure why she trusted me, though.”

“Clearly, she wants to kick your ass and ambush you. You’ll have to ask her about it at Practicum.”

“Yeah,” I said. I wasn’t looking forward to another fight with Gourmet.

â—„â–Œâ–ș

24 - Something Different

Friday, February 13

- - - - -

We’d just finished lunch—bacon, lettuce, tomato, and avocado wraps, made by me—when Rocko called.

“You’ve got clean-up,” I told Bianca. She groaned, stood up, and wandered into the kitchen with our two plates. We hadn’t eaten at the Student Union Building since my Magical Girl Ramsey Fieri Costume reveal, which made Bianca happy. I had mixed feelings about it; cooking anything up to Fieri’s standard took forever, and I couldn’t half-ass it either. But the food was better. I needed to figure out a way to have some friends over for a dinner party without giving away my secret identity. Either that, or they had to be superheroes.

My phone buzzed again, and I stared at it for a moment. Then I hung up. It’d just be Rocko snapping again, like the end of last semester, and ordering Bianca and me over to the studio. I’d just as soon miss that step. “Bee, change of plans. We’re paying Rocko a visit.”

“You got it, Annie.” Bianca stopped scrubbing the cast-iron pan and walked into our—my—bedroom to change into her summer outfit. I followed her. Neither of us needed that kind of heat.

“This is just a quick business visit. I’ve got homework, and we both have Practicum in two hours. Let’s get in, let them lecture us on how we’re not climbing the rankings, and get out.” I pulled my shirt off and grabbed a tank top, then dropped my jeans to trade them out for shorts. Bianca whistled, and I blushed and turned.

“I can bring the whiteboard.” Bianca meant The Plan, which we’d covered in crossed-out words and arrows linking one part to another. We’d actually gotten quite a bit done, including getting Tele-Portal to open up her training arena. But the one thing that hadn’t moved much was my community ranking, which was
a problem.

“Nah. We’ll explain what we have to, but Rocko doesn’t need the visual aids. Let’s rock.” We shivered even in the heated apartment and quickly headed for my secret base and Rocko’s door.

[Welcome to Rocko’s Studio. System Disabled. Now arriving Backstage]

The heat and humidity hit me like a brick wall.

“DuPont. You are aware of the situation, right?” Rocko’s hands were empty. They sat at their desk, staring at a TV screen showing the Tokyexico Community Rankings. I sat at 315 still, while Vigilant Vow had jumped to almost 280—well within minor league range.

“Yep. Doesn’t look good, does it?”

“Doesn’t look good? No, it looks terrible. Cartman’s messaging me constantly about when you two are gonna get your butts in gear, and I have to say, ‘They’re working on it’ every time. So I need you two to get your butts in gear. Seriously.”

“We are, Rocko. This is all part of the plan, just like the Fursona Solo Episode and the radio show,” Bianca said.

“I don’t—no. No, there’s no way that’s all gonna work. On a long enough timeline, sure. But you have three months. We ain’t getting this minor league slot at the rate you’re going.” Rocko glared at me. I glared right back. Then their expression shifted, and they ran a pair of hands through their otter-like fur. “Look, I appreciate that you’ve got a plan. But I also appreciate that you’ve run two Episodes since your finale.”

I seethed. Rocko knew why I couldn’t run Episodes all the time. Casting Calls popped up all the time on campus these days, and I had to ignore them all. It’d been worth it then, but if I had a do-over, I’d probably have laid low and tried to let Professor Panic make a mistake. It’d have been easier than this restriction. “Rocko, I can’t—“

“Don’t give me that. You searched for a week to find the perfect Episode after Gourmet and Theseus wrecked you last year. You need to pound the pavement and find something.” Rocko said. They stood up, walked over, climbed the chair, and touched my shoulder. The scent of cigar smoke hung heavily around them, even though they weren’t smoking anything. “The stakes are higher than you know. Heroics 101 needs some Episodes to stay afloat. Give me something here.”

“Fine. We’ll have an Episode for you by tonight,” I said. “Tomorrow, for sure.”

“For sure?” Rocko asked. Bianca opened her mouth but thought better of saying anything when I squeezed her hand slightly.

“For sure,” I said.

“Good, because if you don’t, we’re gonna have problems, you and me. Financial problems, and neither of us can afford that.” Rocko climbed down from the chair. “Now, how’s that new Costume treating you?”

“I love it!” Bianca said.

“It’s fine, but it’s not villainous or heroic, and it’s not great in a fight. Listen, Rocko, we have homework and a class in a bit. We need to get going. We’ll go hunting tonight.”

â—„â–Œâ–ș

The second we walked back into my green room, Bianca started whining.

“Annie, it’s not fair! We were gonna watch some Episodes tomorrow, and you were cooking spaghetti. If we’re hunting an Episode all night, that’s not gonna happen.”

“Shit,” I said. Bianca was right. Tomorrow was the fourteenth, and that meant Valentine’s Day. And I’d promised her the shows and dinner; somehow, I knew being stuck in her fursuit wouldn’t fly. “So, we have to find something tonight. This feels disgustingly like deja vu.”

“Not quite. This time, there’s a lot more riding on it,” Bianca said. She wrapped her arms around my waist, as much to capitalize on my body heat as to hug me. Shorts and a T-shirt didn’t work for mid-February. “And this time, I’m with you to the end of the line.”

“Thanks, Bee.” I gave her a quick, stressed-out kiss on the forehead, then untangled myself and opened the door to my apartment. “To the covers. Study and snuggle time!”

Bianca grabbed her science book, we both found our computers and without changing into anything warmer, we crawled under the blankets to get to work. Tails watched, as she always did, from between our heads.

Ilneat Politics, for once, didn’t require Quailman’s book. In addition, it didn’t look like he’d actually readthe article he’d linked, which Magister Fenton had written and Doctor Rogers had translated. The first was an Ilneat name, for sure, and the content in the article reflected that. It contradicted most of Quailman’s book in just a few sentences.

While at its highest levels, Ilneat politics revolves around a caste system similar to that on Earth prior to 1600 Local Year, the realities of the Ilnean Empire are that inter-caste movement happens frequently. In fact, that movement has made all but the highest ranks of Ilneat politics essentially homogeneous in the last four hundred cycles. This transformation has created massive tremors in—

“Ow!” I squealed as something pinched the meaty part of my thigh. Bianca giggled and pulled her hand away from my leg. I glared, she shrugged and winked, and I returned to reading.

—massive tremors in the political landscape.

The largest of these changes is the rise of new political entities. Many of the ‘lower’ caste groups have banded together to carve out voting blocs within system-local governing bodies, and the old systems in these systems seem to be falling out of favor. In their place, corporations and cooperatives seem to be taking more and more control politically. Indeed, the Ilneat Empire appears to be heading toward an Ilneat Corpocracy or Plutocracy.

I argue that these shifts are largely negative for the Ilneats in the upper castes and the local species populating resource systems. To better protect—

I let a hand stray under the covers, looking for revenge.

—both Ilneat interests and long-term viability for resource planets, I believe that protections must be codified to prevent these corporations and cooperatives from gaining too much control and compromising the system we’ve spent countless cycles creating, and that benefits both Ilneats and other species.

Something about that last line
rubbed me the wrong way, and I stopped reading, shut my computer, and rolled over. “Hey, Bee, do you think we’re weaker than the Ilneats?”

“I’ve never thought about it, but
probably.”

“Huh. I’ve never thought about it either. They’d always been around, in the background and then in person in the form of Rocko and Pataki, so I’d never thought about our place in their system. I’d just kind of
done what I needed to.

And their presence had saved the world. I pushed it out of my head. If I wanted to really dig into humanity’s relationship with the Ilneat Empire, I’d have paid more attention last semester. And honestly, the world was better with the Ilneats around, even if Su-Bin disagreed.

So, instead of finishing my homework, I lay around, played on my phone, and watched Bee work on her chemistry or whatever. It all looked way too mathy for me, but she seemed lost in it—so much, in fact, that I decided notto get revenge for her pinch. Instead, I flopped an arm over her shoulder and just snuggled. She rolled her eyes. Many of our snuggle study sessions ended up like this, either on her part or on mine.

And then, finally, it was time to get ready for Combat Style Practicum.

Bianca stepped into the Fursona suit. “Hey, help me out here. Buckles, helmet, the works.” She held her arms out and wiggled her hands.

I tightened straps, looped loops, and checked that Fursona’s suit fit snugly. Then I transformed, and we rode the elevator down into the tunnels. We’d made it halfway down when Gourmet appeared from around a corner. I waved. “Hey, Gorgonzola.”

“Snack. Wombat.”

“Fursona!” Fursona said.

As we walked toward the training room, Gourmet cleared her throat. “I’m aiming for late March, Snack. After Spring Break. Be ready.”

“You got it, Gourmet. I’ll be there.” My mind was on class. Last time, we’d done multi-super fights, with three heroes against three villains. What kind of crazy stuff would Mindstorm and Tennyson have for us today?

She nodded. “Good. Ready for class. I heard from the SSS that it’s hostages. The villains defend them, and the heroes try to rescue them without getting any of them ‘killed.’ I’m ready to eat some heroes for breakfast.”

Fursona snorted. “The only thing you’ll be eating for breakfast is our dust when we get to the hostages first. And how’d the SSS know all that, anyway?”

“Oh, you know, they’ve taken the class. Monologue told us everything. A bunch of the villains even changed their builds for it, but not me. I don’t need a special build to mop up you two or to keep you from getting to the hostages.”

“It’s not because your other build is worthless in combat?” Fursona asked. I glared at her; I’d told Gourmet I’d keep the Ramsey Fieri Costume secret.

“I knew you’d tell Wombat, Snack. It’s fine. Just be ready to lose in there.”

I laughed. “Oh, I don’t think so. I’m here to upstage the villains!”

â—„â–Œâ–ș