by wildbow
As he joined the rest of us in running for cover, Regent half turned to thrust out one hand. Über stumbled and fell just ten feet from the armed explosive.
The blast radius was thankfully small. The shockwave that rippled past us didn’t even make me lose my footing. Über, though, went flying.
Leet watched his friend roll with the impact, try to stagger to his feet and fall again. He turned to us with his face etched in hard lines of anger.
“I keep wondering when you guys are going to give up,” Tattletale grinned. “I mean, you fail more often than you succeed, you make more cash from your web show than you do from actual crimes, you’ve been arrested no less than three times. You’re probably going to wind up at the Birdcage the next time you flub it, aren’t you?”
“Our mission is worth it,” Leet raised his chin—inasmuch as he had one—a notch.
“Right,” Tattletale said. “Spreading the word about the noble and underrated art form that is video games. That’s from your website, word for word. People don’t watch your show because they think you’re righteous. They watch because you’re so lame it’s funny.”
Leet took a step forward, fists clenched, but Über called out, “She’s provoking you.”
“Damn right I am. And I can do it because I’m not scared of you. I don’t have any powers that are useful in a fight, and you guys don’t intimidate me in the least. A guy who’s good at everything yet still manages to fuck up half the time, and a tinker who can only make stuff that breaks comically.”
“I can make anything,” Leet boasted.
“Once. You can make anything once. But the closer something you invent is to something you’ve made before, the more likely it is to blow up in your face or misfire. Real impressive.”
“I could demonstrate,” Leet threatened, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder.
“Please don’t. I hear the carbonized ash of geek is hell to get out of a costume.”
“You say geek like it’s a bad thing,” Über said, in his characteristically overdramatic tone, “It’s a badge of honor.”
“Among geeks, sure,” Regent replied. “But there’s clowns out there that consider being a clown to be a noble calling, while the rest of us just laugh at them. Catch my drift?”
“Enough,” Leet growled. “It’s obvious you’re trying to antagonize us—”
“I just admitted it. That’s not obvious. That’s fact,” Lisa pointed out.
“We won’t be baited!” Leet raised his voice, “I think it’s time for our grand reveal, our guest—”
He was cut off as Grue blasted him in the face with a cloud of darkness. Leet stepped out of the cloud, sputtering.
“They’re laughing at you, Leet,” Tattletale heckled him, “You’re trying to be all dramatic, all intense for your viewers, and they’re just sitting at their computers, snorting over how much you suck. Even Über is laughing at you behind your back.”
“Shut up!” Leet spat the words, glancing over his shoulder at his teammate, “I trust Über.”
“Why are you even with this guy, Über?” Regent asked, “I mean, you’re kind of lame, but you could at least accomplish something if he wasn’t fucking up half your jobs.”
“He’s my friend,” Über replied, like it was the simplest thing in the world.
“So you don’t deny he’s holding you back.” Lisa pointed out.
“Shut up!” Leet roared. Except he didn’t have a very deep voice, so it was probably closer to a screech. He pulled out another bomb and flung it at us before Regent could make him fumble again. We scattered, with Regent, Tattletale and I running away while Grue shrouded both himself and Über in darkness.
As I scrambled for cover, I directed my bugs to attack Leet. He’d done something different this time, because the bomb didn’t take half the time the first bomb had before it detonated. It caught me off guard, and I didn’t get a chance throw myself to the ground as a result. The blast caught me full in the back.
The air and the fire that rolled over me wasn’t hot. That was the most surprising thing. That wasn’t to say it didn’t hurt, but it felt more like getting punched by a really big hand than what I would have thought an explosion would feel like. I could remember Lung’s blasts of fire, Kid Win shattering the wall with his cannon. This felt… false.
“The bombs are fake?” I asked aloud, as I picked myself off the ground. I ached, but I wasn’t burned.
“They’re solid holograms,” Tattletale said. “Actually pretty neat, if you ignore how ineffective they are. I guess he couldn’t make real bombs without fucking up.”
Leet snarled, though it was hard to say whether it was Tattletale’s words or the moths, wasps and cockroaches that had settled on him. As I’d suspected, they weren’t doing much. Even crawling for his nose and mouth, they didn’t really slow him down. Maybe there was a downside to getting him furious, like Tattletale and Regent were intent on doing.
He whipped out two more bombs and Regent was quicker this time, snapping his hands out. Leet recovered before he dropped the bombs, and pulled his arms back to throw them. Regent was ready, though, and one of Leet’s legs jerked out from under him. He fell to the ground, the bombs rolling only a few feet from him before going off.
He slammed into a door hard enough I thought he might have managed to kill himself. Before I could approach and check his pulse, though, he began struggling to get to his feet.
“Good thing you made those things nonlethal,” I muttered, half to myself, “You’re one for four.”
Glaring at us, he reached behind his back again and withdrew a sword.
“Link’s sword?” Regent taunted him, “That’s not even from the right game. You’re breaking theme.”
“I think I speak for everyone when I say we just lost what little respect we had for you,” Tattletale quipped.
Leet lunged for the two of them. He didn’t get three steps before Regent made him stumble and fall to his hands and knees. The sword slipped from his grasp and slid over the pavement before flickering out of existence.
He was only a few feet from me, too focused on Tattletale and Regent to pay enough attention to me. I reached behind my back, withdrew my baton and snapped it out to its full length. As he started climbing to his feet, reaching behind his back for what I realized was a thin, hard backpack, I swatted at his hand with the length of metal. He yelped, pulling his hand to his chest to cradle it. I hit him in the calf, just below the knee, a little harder than I’d intended to. He crumpled.
Stepping around him, I grabbed the end of the baton with my other hand and pulled the length of metal hard against his throat.
Leet started to make strained choking noises. He caught me off guard by bucking backward, throwing the two of us onto our backs, him on top of me. I winced as the impact brought his weight against the bruised area of my chest where Glory Girl had thrown Tattletale at me. I didn’t lose my grip, though. Ignoring the one hundred and thirty pounds on top of me, I was glad for the extra leverage being on the ground afforded me.
“You okay?” Grue asked me in his echoing voice. He stepped forward so he was standing over me.
“Peachy,” I replied, huffing with the exertion.
“Don’t pull it against his windpipe. You’ll get tired enough that you lose your grip before he ever passes out. Here,” he bent down and forced Leet’s head to one side, moving the baton so it was pressing against the side of Leet’s neck, “Now you’re pulling against the artery, obstructing the blood flow to his brain. Twice as fast. If you could put pressure on both arteries, he’d be out in thirty seconds.”
“Thanks,” I huffed, “for the lesson.”
“Good girl. Über’s down for the count, but I’m going to go help the others make sure he’s not going to give us any more trouble. We’re only steps away, so shout if you need a hand.”
It wasn’t fast, even with the technique Grue had instructed. It wasn’t pretty either. Leet made lots of ugly little sounds, fumbling a
wkwardly for his backpack. I pressed my body tight against it, though, and he gave up. Instead, he tried pressing against the bar, to alleviate the pressure. When that didn’t work, he started scratching uselessly at my mask.
I released him when he finally slumped over. Extricating myself from underneath him, I adjusted my mask, drew my knife and cut the high tech backpack off him. When I’d done that, I searched him. If we were going to interrogate him, it wouldn’t do to have him digging out some little trinket to free himself or incapacitate us. His costume was skintight, so it was easy enough to verify there weren’t any hidden pockets or devices on him. Just to be safe, I cut the antenna off his head and removed his belt.
The others returned with a battered and unconscious Über in their arms, his arms bound behind him with plastic wrist ties. They dumped him beside Leet.
“Now to find out where they stashed Bitch and the cash,” Tattletale said. She looked at me, “Got any smelling salts?”
I shook my head, “No. These guys have henchmen, don’t they? They’ve probably got them watching over the money. We’d likely find Bitch in the same place.”
“Close but no cigar,” a mechanical hiss answered me.
We wheeled around to see a woman in the same outfit Über and Leet were wearing. The difference was that she wore a gas-mask style fixture over her lower face, and the lenses of her goggles were red, not black.
The woman’s mask seemed to take what she said and replay everything in a robotic, monotone hiss, “I really hoped they would take one or two of you out of the picture, or at least injure someone. How disappointing. They didn’t even get around to introducing their guest star for tonight.”
“Bakuda?” Tattletale was the first to put a name to the face, “Fuck me, the game their costumes were from… Bomberman?”
Bakuda stood and bowed in one smooth motion. Regent raised his hands, but she let herself drop to her knees, gripping the roof’s edge with one hand to avoid sliding off.
“Nuh uh uh,” she waggled one finger at him, “I’m smart enough to learn from the mistakes of others.”
“You seriously left the ABB to join Über and Leet?” Regent asked, astounded.
“Not exactly,” Bakuda said. She snapped the fingers of the hand she wasn’t using to keep hold of the roof.
Below her, the door to the storage locker opened. Three men in ABB colors stepped out, each holding a weapon. A gun, a baseball bat, a fire axe.
Then other doors opened, all down the corridor of storage lockers. Thirty or forty doors, each with at least one person behind them. Some with three or four. All of them armed.
“Those two were cheap hires. They just wanted a few hundred dollars and I had to wear this costume. Guess you get what you pay for.
“Goes without saying, I’m still with the ABB,” Bakuda stated the obvious for us. “In charge, matter of fact. I think it’s fitting that I commemorate my new position by dealing with the people that brought down my predecessor, don’t you agree?”
She didn’t expect an answer, nor did she wait for one. She pointed at us and shouted, “Get them!”
Interlude 3½ (Bonus)
Kayden crouched by the crib, her arms folded over the edge, watching her baby’s chest rise and fall. She felt at peace. Aster was perfect, flawless, untainted by the chaos and the evils of the world beyond the apartment and the nursery. Even in her waking moments, she wasn’t overly demanding, quick to reduce her wails to quiet whimpers when she heard assurances that food, company or a diaper change were on the way. Not that she understood, of course, but she trusted her mother would provide. Kayden couldn’t have asked for more. Literally, there was nothing Aster could do, have or be that would make her better than she was.
In an odd way, Kayden supposed, she took refuge in Aster. She found succor in the company of her child, in the midst of a world she had little hope for.
It took willpower to force herself to step away, to quietly step from the nursery and half-close the door behind her. When she saw pudgy fifteen year old Theo sitting in front of the television, she was momentarily disoriented. Then she felt a stab of guilt. She’d forgotten about the boy, in the midst of caring for Aster and her preparations for the night.
“Theo, I’m sorry,” she spoke. The boy had been captivated by the final votes of some reality TV show, but he didn’t give a second thought to muting the TV and giving Kayden his full attention. “I’ve been so preoccupied, I haven’t fed you.”
“It’s okay,” Theo answered her, breaking eye contact. It wasn’t.
“Look, I’m going out—”
“In costume?”
“Yeah,” Kayden replied. She tried to read the expression on the boy’s face, but Theo was a stone wall. He’d had to be, really, with what he’d grown up with.
Resisting the urge to comment or push the boy to offer some commentary, criticism or support, Kayden continued, “I’m leaving you thirty dollars here on the kitchen table. If you want to use it to order out, please feel free. Otherwise, raid my cupboards, my fridge, or use the money to go down to the convenience store in the lobby, okay? If you decide to rent a movie, leave it here for me to take back. I might want to watch it.” Kayden smiled, trying to coax a matching expression from him.
“Okay,” Theo said, his face blank. “When will you be back?”
In time to take you back to your dad’s, Kayden almost said. Then she had an idea, “I might be late. Would it maybe be okay if you spent the night? You’d just have to check in on Aster every few hours. Keep an ear out in case she cries? I’d pay you for the full night’s babysitting.”
The times when Theo let a glimmer of emotion show were few and far between. A smile, genuine, touched Theo’s face, and almost broke Kayden’s heart in the process.
“I’d love to,” Theo replied, meaning it.
“Then it’s settled. Sorry to interrupt your show,” she said.
“It’s fine,” Theo said, just a touch too fast. It wasn’t fine, apparently, but he would never admit it. Could never admit it. Kayden felt a flicker of hatred for the man who had eroded every ounce of personality and assertiveness from his son. She would give her right hand for a smart-alec remark, rolled eyes or to be ignored in favor of a TV show.
She had to console herself that she was at least giving Theo a night’s respite from the man. It wasn’t enough, of course, but there was so little she could do. All she could offer were small kindnesses, little gestures of love and affection, and hope they helped. With that in mind, Kayden took the time to get some sheets out and set up the other couch so Theo would be comfortable when he was done watching TV.
When that was done, she double checked the TV to see that she wasn’t interrupting anything, and told Theo, “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” the boy replied, in a tone that was all affectation. The false words stung Kayden more than if Theo hadn’t said anything at all. Tonight wasn’t the night to confront that issue. She left the apartment, locking the door behind her. She took the stairs up to the roof, and shucked off her bathrobe. The garment went in the gap between two flowerboxes, where nobody would find it unless they were looking for it.
Then she stepped off the edge of the roof.
The wind ripped at her hair, blew cold against her face. As she tumbled head over heels, seeing only glimpses of the streetlights and cars below her, she waited. Her apartment building was fifteen stories tall, which gave her less time than one might expect. All it would take was one second of doubt, one mistake, a momentary hesitation, and she would hit the ground.
Aster. It was fitting that she thought of her daughter. She always did, these days, every time she jumped. It had become a ritual, as though she couldn’t set out to clean up the city if she didn’t remind herself why she was doing it.
Energy suffused her body. The entire sky lit up in a brilliant, blinding flash of light. By the time the spots cleared from the eyes of the people on the street, she was already gone, hurtling over Downtown Brockton Bay
, a white trail of light following behind her.
Kayden didn’t wear a mask, but it wasn’t necessary. With her powers active, her brown hair and eyes became a radiant white, emanating a light so brilliant it was impossible to look straight at her. The fabric of her alabaster costume, too, radiated with a soft glow that rippled like light on the surface of the water.
Her usual routine was to patrol for an hour or two, get a sense of things, and then take action where she thought it was most appropriate. Tonight, though, she was frustrated, and she hadn’t even begun.
A year ago, she had made the ABB a priority target. Three to five times a week, she had carried out surgical strikes against the low level operations of the gang, interrupting shipments, beating up dealers and thugs, attacking their places of business and all the while, she had been gathering information. That information had paid off from time to time; she had clashed directly with Lung on no less than four occasions, had encountered Oni Lee on two. In all but one of those encounters, she had successfully forced them to retreat, to abandon whatever it was they were doing at the time. Those were the good days.
There had been bad days too. Most of the time, she made a point to rough up the lower level members of the gang when she’d taken them down, enough to make them reconsider their career choice. Make them consider going to another town. At one point, Lung had set a trap for her, and succeeded in returning the favor. It had taken her two months to recuperate from all of her injuries. Other days, which were somehow worse, she found herself struggling to make a difference, coming to the dawning realization that she had failed to change things.
This week had been a long series of those bad days. When she’d read in the news that Lung had been apprehended, she’d cleared her schedule. Kayden had taken her vacation days and called Theo about babysitting. It had been the best chance she’d get, she thought, to clean up the ABB once and for all. Get that scum out of her city, while they were leaderless.
Five of her seven vacation days had passed, and she’d accomplished nothing. Less than nothing. They were getting stronger.