The Weapon - Exodus - part 1
By Diana the Valkyrie
You want to discuss the physics of stellar objects, or would you like me to fuck your brains out?


When you're smilin' ... keep on smilin'
The whole world smiles with you
And when you're laughin' ... keep on laughin'
The sun comes shinin' through
But when you're cryin' ... you bring on the rain
So stop your frownin' ... be happy again
Cause when you're smilin' ... keep on smilin'
The whole world smiles with you

Oh damn. Wouldn't you know it? I'm late I'm late I'm late and the bloody
Tangley level crossing barrier comes down in front of me, I guess there's a
train on the way, although when I check up and down the track there's nothing
in sight, which means I might be in for a long wait. And it's two p.m., the
meeting in Chilworth is round about now ... well, who's ever on time for a
bloody meeting? What can't be cured must be endured, but why doesn't this
idiot in front of me with learner-plates get off the track? Hey, lady! This
isn't just a red light, you know, there's a train coming. Honk Honk. HONK!
HONK!!!! Is she asleep or what? And the man leaning into the back of the car,
all he can see is that baby. HONK!!! Hey, I'm not just being impatient here,
you know, you're ...

Oh shit. I can see it, it's coming down the track. HONK!!! Hey, asshole, if
you can't move the car then get the fuck out of there. Oh Jesus, she doesn't
even know what's happening. I read about the last time a train hit a car on
the track, it derailed the locomotive and most of the carriages, half a dozen
carriages concertinaed, and nineteen people got killed.

Damn, that's a Honda, it weighs nothing, I'm in the Volvo, built like a tank.
Mash the pedal to the metal, GO GO GO ... CRASH!!! And now get the fuck out of
this thing before the train comes. Oh god, pain, I can't move, I can't get
out, I think I busted something, a rib or something, it hurts. I hope I was
moving fast enough at the point of impact to get clear of the train ...

The momentum of my car was enough to send me crashing through the flimsy
half-barrier, into the back of her car, and the weight of my car was enough to
send us both clear of the track. I heard the diesel loco thunder by, blasting
on its big horn, da-da, DA-DA, it takes a mile or two to stop those things.

I was lucky. Not as lucky as they were. I had a smashed up car, steam coming
out of the wrecked engine. They had a very crumpled car, but at least they
hadn't been hit by a train doing sixty, which would have left not much more
than strawberry jam of the three occupants. I sat there as the flood of
adrenaline hit me, just too late to actually do any good, but in plenty of
time to make me start shaking uncontrollably. What a stupid thing to do, I
could have gotten, I could have, I could, oh shit. Oh shit. What an absolutely
bloody stupid thing to do.

I saw her get out of her car, and look at the damage. Then she walked round to
the passenger side, and pulled the man out. He seemed ok, sitting up against
the car. She handed the baby out to him, then walked over to my car. I looked
up at her. She was pretty. Funny how you notice silly things like that in the
middle of a catastrophe.

She tugged at the car door; it was stuck. She pulled at the handle; it came
off in her hand. The chassis must have distorted in the smash-up. I pushed at
the door, but another stab of pain changed my mind about that. She looked at
the door, thinking for a moment. Then her fist smashed through the tough
safety glass window, she gripped the door and pulled, and with a lot of
creaking and groaning, it came off the car entirely. That crash must have done
a *lot* of damage. This car was probably a write-off now. She unclipped my
seat belt. I thought, that seat belt was what stopped me from going face-first
through the windscreen. No question about clunk-click every trip from now on.

"Are you OK?" she asked. I nodded. "Never better, full of the joys of life.
Apart from this busted rib, that is." "Come on," she said, "I think you should
get out of there." She looked at me thoughtfully. "You know, we can't actually
be sure that it's just a busted rib. I think I'd better be careful moving you,
just in case. I don't want to make things worse if you do have anything bad.
Not that I think you do, but this car is pretty much scrap anyway, so if I
just break this seat off ..."

She slid one arm behind the back of the seat, the other arm under the seat,
and pulled. I heard the bolts snapping under the tension she was putting on
them, and then the entire seat came out of the car, with me still on it. She
carried me over to sit next to the guy holding the baby. "He's hurt, Duncan.
What should I do?" "Hospital, Wendy. Get him to Royal Surrey accident and
emergency, it's in Guildford, then stay with him till they've checked him out.
I'm OK, just scared to death, I need a stiff drink is all, the baby's fine,
I'll see you back home." She nodded.

She stretched her arms out to the sides, and whirled around. Having seen what
she'd done to my car door and seat, I wasn't entirely surprised what I saw.
She was no longer wearing the sweater and skirt I'd first seen her in. She was
now wearing a skin-tight snow-white tunic and short skirt, black gloves and
high boots. She had a long white cape that swept the ground, and on her ample
chest, I saw a big W in gold, matching the gold of her belt. "You're ...
You're her! I read about you. You're the superwoman, The Weapon!"

She smiled. "Call me Wendy," she said, as she picked up the car seat with me
still in it, "all my friends do." She leaped lightly into the air ... and
didn't fall back down. She flew us through the air until we reached the Royal
Surrey Hospital, landing directly in front of the Accident and Emergency
department, and carried me in. "Car crash," she said to the nurse in charge,
"patient complains of pain in the chest, please check him out."

The NHS might have a poor record at varicose veins, but there was no problem
getting me into X-ray. I suppose being with a tall black-haired superheroine
in a long white cape might have helped some. They transferred me to a
wheelchair, and wheeled me to the radiology department. Wendy came with me all
the way, holding my hand. When they told her to get behind the lead shelter
for the X-ray shot, she just smiled. "You know who I am, don't you?" she
asked. The X-ray technician nodded. "Well, honey, a few X-rays aren't going to
bother me." "Regulations," he insisted. She sighed. "OK, OK. I'm coming."

They took the X-rays, and Wendy came with me to the house doctor, who looked
at them, and confirmed that I had a cracked rib. "What's the treatment for
that, Doc?" I asked. "Leave out the boxing for a few weeks, and try not to
laugh too hard." I laughed. Too hard. "Ow." "Seriously, there's no treatment,
they'll knit themselves. You'll be in some discomfort for a few weeks, just
take it easy. And get out of that wheelchair, there's nothing wrong with you."
Wendy took my hand as I stood up, she looked like she was getting ready to
catch me if I fell. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with me." Then my knees turned
to jelly, and I started to keel over.

She caught me before I'd moved more than a couple of inches, and held me
against her body. The feel of her and the smell of her threatened to finish
the job that my knees had started and I would have hit the floor, but she
moved to one side, her hands went round my back and behind my knees, and she
lifted me in a cradle carry. "I think I'd better take you home with me, you
need looking after." She walked with me through the hospital, ignoring the
stares of staff and patients, pushed through the double doors, ran a couple of
steps forward, leaped into the sky and flew into the night as I clung to her,
my arms round her neck.

The flight through the dark night sky was exhilarating. If you think you've
flown, then you're probably thinking about a passenger jet. Whizzing through
the air while a beautiful stranger hugs you to her bosom is a completely
different experience. And strangely, even though I was hundreds of feet in
mid-air, with apparently nothing between me and a splat on the ground, she
made me feel safe. I was quite sorry when the flight ended, just outside a
rather ordinary-looking house with a small but tidy garden in front. She set
me down, without taking her arm from around my waist, reached behind to her
cape and put a key in the door. She opened the door, and ushered me in.

"Honey, I'm home," she called out. She led me into their lounge, and I met
Duncan again. "Here," he said, "you probably need this." He handed me a
shot-glass with the astringent smell of whiskey. I reached out and took it,
only to discover that my hand was shaking so hard that most of the drink
sloshed onto the carpet. She moved forward, and steadied my hand with hers.
She looked at Duncan, he nodded slightly, and she pulled me into her arms and
just held me, stroking my hair. Then she sat down on the sofa, pulling me down
with her, sitting me on her lap, hugging me close. "It's all right now, honey.
Everything's all right." She made me feel a lot better, her voice made me feel
that the world wasn't such a bad place, after all. I did the obvious, and
buried my head in her shoulder and neck.

"Sorry," I said, "I think I'm still suffering from the reaction." "I'm not
surprised," Duncan said, "you know you could have gotten yourself killed?" "I
know. I guess I just wasn't thinking. Or maybe I was, you remember the big
crash last year, when that train hit a car, derailed, and nineteen people got
killed? That's what I was thinking about." Wendy nodded. "You certainly saved
the lives of Duncan and the baby." "Is the baby OK?" I asked. "Yes, back with
her mother." "She's my niece, we were babysitting." "And even you might not
have stood up to a sixty ton locomotive," I said, turning to Wendy. She
exchanged glances with Duncan. "I would, but that's not the point. Point is,
if it weren't for you, I'd be without, Duncan would be, he'd be ..." She
started crying.

I was aghast. She could rip a car to pieces with her bare hands, she could fly
through the air, and now she was sobbing like a little girl. What do you do
when a goddess by your side starts to weep? I looked up at Duncan, and he
nodded to me. So I put my arms round her and tried to comfort her, what else
can a guy do? "I couldn't bear it if Duncan ... oh oh oh" she cried. "There
there," I said, inadequately. "You see, I'm his Weapon, and I'm supposed to
protect him, and all I did was nearly get him killed, he was teaching me how
to drive and I didn't know about level crossings, and I stalled the car, and I
couldn't get it started again, and if you hadn't, oh, oh, oh." I stroked her
long glossy hair, I thought back to that scene, I remembered seeing that huge
locomotive like a sixty ton bullet coming towards me and the insane decision
to play billiards with my car as the cue. And I thought about what might have
happened. And I started to cry too. Jesus, what a wimp I am sometimes.

We sat there for a long time, holding on to each other and weeping. But
eventually, there's no more tears, and I become more conscious of her strong
arms around me, pulling me to her large firm breasts. "Wendy?" "Yes?" she
sniffled. "Duncan is fine, you know. There's actually nothing to cry about."
"I know, I know, but I was just thinking what might have been, and how I broke
my oath to him." "Is he your father, or what?" I asked. She looked surprised.
"No, no." "Well, the age difference ... " She giggled. "How old do you think I
am?" she asked. "Er. Twenty nine, same as me?" "I was made and delivered a few
weeks ago. The age difference is more than you think." "Made? Delivered?"
"It's a long story, I'll tell you some time. But he's my Wielder, and that's a
very very close relationship." "Oh." "Look, I'll tell you, this is the oath I
swear to him. 'My strength is your strength. My power is your power. I will
love you and protect you and obey you. Until the end of time.' And I've just
screwed up one the 'protect' part of it, big time."

I couldn't think what to say. "Wendy," I started. And then I couldn't think
what to say next, because yes, she had blundered, and badly. And then I
realised. "Wendy, you made a very big mistake there." She nodded, and I could
see her eyes tearing up again. "But you've learned from it, haven't you?" She
nodded. "And so it won't happen again." She nodded again, looking down at the
floor. "So, buck up, lass. Nothing bad happened." She took my hand. "Only
because of you. I owe you, I owe you big." Now it was my turn to stare at the
floor. "I'll talk to you more about this later," she said.

"Dinner," called out Duncan. She stood up, and gave me her hand. I needed it,
too. She helped me stand up, and she helped me stay upright until we got to
the dining room. "I hope you like curry," said Duncan. There were plates in
front of him and me and a pot of aromatic curry, and a big bowl of rice. I
turned to look at Wendy, puzzled. "Don't you like curry?" "I, uh, don't eat."
"What, never?" "Well, sometimes, but it's just social, you know. To keep
Duncan company, he says it feels odd if we're sitting there and he's eating
any I'm not." "So, come on, join us now!" She looked at Duncan.

"Son," said Duncan. "Son, I don't know your name, who are you?" "George
Millby" "George, fact is, there's really just enough here for two, which was
going to be me and Wendy, but since she doesn't need it, that's you and me."
"I'm eating your dinner?" She smiled at me. "Really, George, food isn't what
keeps me going." "So what is?"