Nyte's Point of View
"Oh, that's new." Soft music was playing from hidden speakers when she walked into headquarters. Josefa Josefa. She'd recognize that crooning voice anywhere. Rich liked the satellite radio station that played Spanish-language romantic ballads. They'd listen to it on their drives together. Her boyfriend's Mexican heritage wasn't immediately apparent in his appearance, but it was definitely there, deep down.
"Ah, El Triste, what a classic!" Nethys commented next to her.
"Yes, one of Rich's favorites," Nyte agreed. They walked together to the assembly point. She glanced at her cybernetic colleague. "Could I persuade you to hold off for now? It's kind of a big day for me. Your little 'weapons test' ruined our scrimmage."
"Apologies, my friend." She actually looked contrite. "The action wandered uncomfortably close to my dear primo. It is regretable, but now I have all the information I need."
"Information?" Nyte repeated it like a question. Who was she? Solid Snake?
Nethys' scorpion tail reached out and flipped the power switch on a computer built into the wall. "On Future Hero," she explained. The girl had the most ridiculous typing method Nyte had ever seen, hunting and pecking with the robo-tail while holding her two index fingers above the spacebar and enter key. She typed instructions into the command line, opening a file displaying a 360-degree projection of Future Hero with labeled performance data.
"Look here." Nethys underlined a specific passage with her tail. "Response time. The closer to the school, the faster Future Hero reacts. Considering this, I can only conclude Future Hero is a student at our high school."
"Or a teacher, or some other member of the staff," Nyte raised the obvious objections to Nethys' theory.
The girl's red mechanical eye blinked twice, as if her brain was rebooting. "Yes, perhaps. For this reason, among others, our operations on school grounds will have to be curtailed."
"And danger to Rich, don't forget."
"I could never forget dear Ricardo!" Nethys returned hotly. "He is my family's most precious jewel."
"He is just as precious to me!" Nyte argued. Her spider senses were positively tingling! She dared anyone to claim she didn't love her boyfriend. Their lies would be silenced by violence!
The scorpion tale came up between them, but it wasn't an aggressive gesture, more like placation, the sting pointed skyward like a hand begging mercy. "I do not doubt your feelings are true, oh Spider Queen. In the fullness of time, binding our families together in this way would serve both our interests. For his sake, we shall leave PLUH alone, for now, and your futbol game shall likewise go unmolested."
"Good. That's good." Her hot blood was up. Maybe it was the game tonight. Maybe it was the nervousness of knowing her boyfriend would be there, but Nyte had never been this keyed up in her life! "Then what are you going to do, Nethys? Future Hero might go to school with us, so what?"
"So we prepare." She input something else in the command line, retrieving another picture. "See this sword? He didn't have it before. Our enemy can adapt, the same as we can. Either he can make the new things himself, or someone is helping him."
That was a disturbing thought. Future Hero was strong, but he was just one man. If they were up against an entire organization, the calculus would change. She looked at the sword. It reminded her of a weapon from a video game, though the specifics escaped her. "Why something like that? Future Hero already punches hard as fuck; I should know. What does he need with a sword?"
"I can only speculate," Nethys replied absentmindedly. She changed the image again; this time, it was the ridiculous mascot robot. "This one was deliberately created to test Future Hero's abilities. See the laser canon? The bat? My robot could fight at long range or up close. Before its destruction, the combat platform was able to transmit footage of its last moments."
They watched the video. Future Hero batted away the laser beam and then engaged in a short sword fight. "He's better than I remember," Nyte commented. The fight was short enough that they had time to watch it again. "Look how smooth he moves. I remember Future Hero being more of a raw brawler the last time I went up against him."
"Training," Nethys said simply. "He's been training. As it stands, none of us has a chance against him. There is no telling how strong he'll get. For now, I'd counsel caution. That sword has a nasty interaction with our corrupt energy, almost like it was designed to counter us. Making a new robot right now would be a pointless waste."
Nyte breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, I guess. No need to make a move till we have something that can stand up to him. Think you could make an excuse for me to dip out early? Rich is making me something special for the pregame meal."
Nethys waved her off with a casual flick of her scorpion tail. "Have a good one, Nyte."
She definitely would. Stinger was really cramping her style lately. Personally, she'd rather spend time with Rich.
***
"Come on, people! Pick up the pace!"
Rich was directing a small army of "team dads" in the school's kitchen. He'd been put in charge of the traditional pregame spaghetti dinner and was determined to make it a memorable one.
With memories of YouTube tutorials, Rich had bulk purchased a brand of high-quality imported Italian pasta. It had the right texture, the right color, nothing like the bright yellow American slop pasta that had been speed-dried and made from the cheapest possible, chemically tainted flour. This was all organic, the good stuff.
"I've got the chicken livers right here, Rich," Dad said to him. Dad was also a "team dad" since Becca was on the team now. He'd been getting weirdly into the whole community aspect of supporting the local high school football team. The other dads were mostly house husbands since this was a pretty affluent area, but they were more than welcoming of his nerdy, computer programmer father. He'd put Dad in charge of ingredient procurement. Always precise, exacting, and detail-oriented, Rich knew the man could be trusted to get him what he needed.
Those chicken livers were the secret ingredient to the meat sauce he was cooking up in a huge, industrial-grade vat. It would add a real blast of umami and really take the flavor to the next level. Rich put them in a food processor and checked his calculations. They'd need twenty pounds to flavor that much meat sauce. It was like being back in the service and cooking for the whole crew. Bringing that pot to a boil took forever.
It was a good thing they started so early. Rich had received special permission to skip his last class of the day just for this. In Texas, high school football took precedence.
"Okay, taste test time," Rich said once the meat sauce was the right texture.
When the lid came off the pot, all the dads crowded around and started cooing. "Mmmmmmm," they said together. It smelled divine.
A tall, skinny man with bleached-blond hair, long legs, and tight pants was first up. When the spoon hit his mouth, he closed his eyes like he'd just received a religious revelation. "Ohmaigoddess, Oscar! You must be so proud! A daughter on the team and a son who can cook something so delicious! And you do it all on your own! What's your secret?"
It wasn't easy to tell with Dad's brown skin, but Rich knew he was blushing. People praising his children was his absolute weakness.
"They do more for me than I do for them at this point," Dad said softly. Were those...tears in his eyes? Maybe it was the reverse world, but suddenly, Rich was crying too! They hugged it out in the kitchen while all the other dads continued complimenting the sauce.
***
The football team sat at long tables arranged in the otherwise empty school cafeteria. Kickoff was in two hours. They'd have plenty of time to eat and digest. Rich served them himself, spooning a generous serving of meat sauce on every mountain of spaghetti a player held in front of him as they passed. Once everyone had their food and sat down, the praise began.
"Damn, girl, you taste this?"
"This is better than any restaurant!"
"I didn't know regular old spaghetti could taste like this!"
"Rice! Your brother is a wizard in the kitchen!" A bunch of big women were aggressively patting his twin sister on the back. To her credit, she only looked a little uncomfortable.
For his part, Rich slid into the chair next to Julie, who was inhaling whatever he made for her, like always. People made way for him automatically, sending Rich worshipful glances. This was what it was like to be a queen, he supposed, or rather, a king in a reverse world.
Jessie Duvall, their black running back, was sitting on the other side of his girlfriend. "What did you put in this? What is the seasoning? You've got to tell me so I can tell my dad! I don't know if I can live without this stuff."
"Chicken livers, real garlic, crushed tomatoes, and tomato paste. Yes, you need both kinds of tomatoes, and more salt than you think you need. I'm not holding a recipe hostage or anything. I could write it out for you if you wanted."
"Please do!" Jessie said enthusiastically, and other heads around the table nodded frantically in their agreement.
Julie just kept shoveling the food into her mouth without a word, which was all the praise he ever wanted. After a big swallow, she gulped water to wash it down. "Rich, this is legitimately the best thing you've ever made," she said sincerely. "Were you saving it for opening day?"
"Nah, I just never thought about making spaghetti until you told me about the pregame tradition. You really like it?"
Julie's purple eyes were alight with inner fire. "Rich, you are gonna be making this for our kids someday." Everybody laughed, but from the way she was looking at him, Rich could tell his girlfriend was dead serious.
***
The game itself was against the Lewisville Fighting Farmers, a team that did decently well in last year's state championship playoffs, making it to the semi-finals. Everything was as Rich remembered from his first life: the intoxicating panoply of high school football in Texas. The packed stands, the band playing fighting songs, the cheerleaders launching each other into the air, even the PLUH Pirates mascot got in on the fun, agitating the crowd with his foam cutlass. When he passed by, Rich was relieved to feel no trace of corrupt energy. In Plano, in 2005, Friday Night Lights was very well.
He sat with his father, right on the 50-yard line. Half the Plano police department was in attendance. They weren't taking any chances after Stinger disrupted the scrimmage.
Even a local news station was filming the game. That's right, high school football games were televised.
Lewisville won the coin toss and elected to receive. PLUH was known to be stronger on offense than defense, and the Farmers didn't want to give them the early momentum of the first touchdown. The Lewisville drive had some early success, but PLUH was able to rally and hold them at field goal range, or at least it would be for an NFL-level kicker. Their kicker missed the forty yarder and PLUH took possession. At that moment, Julie's mom joined them.
"Oscar!" she greeted brightly. The tall woman was wearing a business suit and looked like she had rushed here from work.
"Esther." Dad stood up on his tiptoes and gave her a little peck on the lips. Tongues around them immediately began to wag. This was news, actually. Esther Cohen was running for mayor.
Oh, so they are together-together, Rich realized. He didn't blame his dad, not at all. His two children were seniors and would be in college in a year. Dad was about to be an empty nester. It would be good if he could be with someone again.
"How's my daughter's mental state, Richard?" Esther asked. Damn, she was tall. Rich didn't have to look around Dad at all. She just towered over him.
"She's good to go, Mrs. Cohen, I assure you."
Esther sat down elegantly next to his father, and they clasped hands. "Glad to hear it."
That might've been understating it. Julie's pass game was laser-focused, gaining sixty yards in three plays. They didn't go to second down once. Lewisville just couldn't stop them. From what he could see, his sister Becca was blowing the Lewsisville defense tackle off the ball every play. The poor girl was just outmatched. That was the story of the whole game.
By the second half, PLUH was ahead 36-3. During the third quarter, the coach let Julie do a little stat padding, just accumulating touchdowns and yards, but let off the gas in the fourth quarter so they didn't trigger the league "running up the score" rule and have things end early. Rich was hoarse from cheering. In one play, they let Becca line up at fullback and score a two-point conversion. He had no idea they were practicing something like that! His sister was an unstoppable tank. The Fighting Farmers' defense bounced off of her like bullets off of Superman, er, Superwoman.
As an act of mercy in the fourth, PLUH's head coach elected to put the junior varsity squad in to get some experience and take the pressure off Lewisville. At that point, PLUH was ahead by over fifty points, an impossible lead to overcome.
"So you haven't been distracting her," Esther said when Julie was pulled out of the game to sit on the sidelines, her victory already assured. "I haven't seen my girl play that well ever, especially not against a highly-ranked team like Lewisville."
Rich just shrugged. "She's been working hard. I help where I can, cooking and stuff."
Esther nodded in approval and put her arm around his father, saying something to him that Rich couldn't hear.
When the clock ran out, Julie waved for Rich to come down. Two police officers in the stands escorted him onto the field. The whole team was jumping up and down, celebrating their lopsided victory against a highly-ranked opponent. Rich ran forward and leaped into Julie's arms. The picture of them kissing made the front page of the next day's Plano Star Courier.