detained.
Whatever the reason for the baby’s presence, the best solution was to hand her over to the authorities. I took a step in that direction, but something stopped me in my tracks.
The mutant giggled.
She was gazing up at me with a grin on her face. Her big dark eyes shone in the morning sunlight. A tuft of black hair stood up on her head. She only had a single tooth in her mouth—although it looked sharp enough to cause some major damage.
Attached to her diaper was a tag with text printed on one side.
MI-Z 450-7521
I sounded out the letters in my head.
MI-Z
. Almost like a name.
Mizzie
.
I shook away the thought. In my line of work, the names of mutants didn’t matter. All that mattered was stopping them before they could wreak havoc on innocent people.
Turning away from the mutant, I reminded myself that I still had a busy day in front of me. Zimmerman’s office to sign the contracts, then on to the gym, followed by lunch with my agent, a quick trip to the hairdresser, an afternoon meeting to look over the new season’s weapon designs … I didn’t need to check my calendar to know that
take care of baby mutant
wasn’t on my to-do list.
And yet I still couldn’t bring myself to turn the child over to the authorities. I watched as an officer yanked one of the creatures off the ground and tossed it into the back of an armored police van. What would they do to the baby if I handed her over now? Would they treat her the same way?
I hesitated for a moment longer. Then I returned to the SUV.
“Slight change of plans,” I said to Stanley.
The mutant giggled again as I lowered her into the backseat.
“This microwaveable barbecue deal has the potential to expand my market in the south,” I said to Zimmerman. Contracts were spread across the desk, ready to be signed. “Let us begin putting together tour dates to promote—”
“Uh … Cap?” Zimmerman interrupted. “Why is there a baby mutant in my office?”
He was staring nervously at the gray-skinned child, who was sitting in one of his swivel chairs, chewing on a paperweight with her one extremely sharp tooth.
“Oh, this is Mizzie,” I said. “I discovered her a little while ago.”
“So you thought you’d bring it to
my
office?” Zimmerman scooted away from Mizzie, his mouth curling with disgust.
“Would you prefer that I leave her in the car with Stanley?” I asked.
“Actually, I would prefer that you take her to the nearest maximum-security prison. Where she belongs.”
“But she’s just a baby.”
“She’s not ‘just a baby.’ She’s a mutant. And she’s getting slobber all over my paperweight.”
“I know it’s a little … unexpected.”
“Unexpected?” Zimmerman shook his head. “It’s career suicide, that’s what it is. Do you have any idea what’ll happen if the press gets wind of this? People want to see superheroes fighting mutants, not playing peekaboo with them.”
“I can’t just have her tossed into some jail cell,” I said. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Yet,”
Zimmerman prompted. “She hasn’t done anything wrong yet. But she will.”
I stepped forward, flexing a bicep. “If you feel so strongly about this, perhaps it’s time I begin looking for a
new
new business manager.”
Zimmerman shivered, cowering in his chair. Maybe it was the fear of losing his biggest client. Or maybe it was knowing that I had enough power at my fingertips to turn his entire office building to a pile of dust. Either way, he seemed to be experiencing a change of heart.
“Okay, so handing her over to the authorities is a no-go,” Zimmerman began. “I can accept that. No problem.”
“Good.”
I took a seat in the chair beside Mizzie. What an odd turn the day had taken. I’d started off the morning battling mutants, and now I was babysitting one.
It had been years since I’d spent any time around a child this age. Sure, I come into contact with small children all the time. It’s
Whatever the reason for the baby’s presence, the best solution was to hand her over to the authorities. I took a step in that direction, but something stopped me in my tracks.
The mutant giggled.
She was gazing up at me with a grin on her face. Her big dark eyes shone in the morning sunlight. A tuft of black hair stood up on her head. She only had a single tooth in her mouth—although it looked sharp enough to cause some major damage.
Attached to her diaper was a tag with text printed on one side.
MI-Z 450-7521
I sounded out the letters in my head.
MI-Z
. Almost like a name.
Mizzie
.
I shook away the thought. In my line of work, the names of mutants didn’t matter. All that mattered was stopping them before they could wreak havoc on innocent people.
Turning away from the mutant, I reminded myself that I still had a busy day in front of me. Zimmerman’s office to sign the contracts, then on to the gym, followed by lunch with my agent, a quick trip to the hairdresser, an afternoon meeting to look over the new season’s weapon designs … I didn’t need to check my calendar to know that
take care of baby mutant
wasn’t on my to-do list.
And yet I still couldn’t bring myself to turn the child over to the authorities. I watched as an officer yanked one of the creatures off the ground and tossed it into the back of an armored police van. What would they do to the baby if I handed her over now? Would they treat her the same way?
I hesitated for a moment longer. Then I returned to the SUV.
“Slight change of plans,” I said to Stanley.
The mutant giggled again as I lowered her into the backseat.
“This microwaveable barbecue deal has the potential to expand my market in the south,” I said to Zimmerman. Contracts were spread across the desk, ready to be signed. “Let us begin putting together tour dates to promote—”
“Uh … Cap?” Zimmerman interrupted. “Why is there a baby mutant in my office?”
He was staring nervously at the gray-skinned child, who was sitting in one of his swivel chairs, chewing on a paperweight with her one extremely sharp tooth.
“Oh, this is Mizzie,” I said. “I discovered her a little while ago.”
“So you thought you’d bring it to
my
office?” Zimmerman scooted away from Mizzie, his mouth curling with disgust.
“Would you prefer that I leave her in the car with Stanley?” I asked.
“Actually, I would prefer that you take her to the nearest maximum-security prison. Where she belongs.”
“But she’s just a baby.”
“She’s not ‘just a baby.’ She’s a mutant. And she’s getting slobber all over my paperweight.”
“I know it’s a little … unexpected.”
“Unexpected?” Zimmerman shook his head. “It’s career suicide, that’s what it is. Do you have any idea what’ll happen if the press gets wind of this? People want to see superheroes fighting mutants, not playing peekaboo with them.”
“I can’t just have her tossed into some jail cell,” I said. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Yet,”
Zimmerman prompted. “She hasn’t done anything wrong yet. But she will.”
I stepped forward, flexing a bicep. “If you feel so strongly about this, perhaps it’s time I begin looking for a
new
new business manager.”
Zimmerman shivered, cowering in his chair. Maybe it was the fear of losing his biggest client. Or maybe it was knowing that I had enough power at my fingertips to turn his entire office building to a pile of dust. Either way, he seemed to be experiencing a change of heart.
“Okay, so handing her over to the authorities is a no-go,” Zimmerman began. “I can accept that. No problem.”
“Good.”
I took a seat in the chair beside Mizzie. What an odd turn the day had taken. I’d started off the morning battling mutants, and now I was babysitting one.
It had been years since I’d spent any time around a child this age. Sure, I come into contact with small children all the time. It’s
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