Gallows tried to ignore the Trilby-wearing man staring over his shoulder as he fed his mice. He gave both cages an equal amount of food, despite one cage only holding a solitary mouse. That mouse, however, was approaching the size of a small dog. Like a dog, it always seemed happy to see Gallows when he came around the cages. Though its beady red eyes and white coat still matched its brethren in the other cage, its body proportions had altered somewhat. The torso was thicker, and the tail relatively shorter. Its head was still soundly triangular, though the ears had not grown as much as the rest of it.
"How long are you going to keep that rat?" Freddy asked.
"I'm observing the long-term effects of Iteration Twelve on a model organism. One that does not have cocaine metabolites in its system. There has been no increase in aggression, and he still appears to be healthy. The massive growth over the past twenty-four hours makes me wonder how big he's going to get."
"I don't need a growth serum," Freddy said. "So how 'bout getting back to cooking Blue?"
"I am working on Iteration Thirteen, but it's not ready for testing as yet."
"What about more of Seven?"
"Do you want me to spend time putting together more of the flawed formula? Or do you want me to work on developing the correct formula?" Gallows asked. "Because there's only so much I can do at one time."
"And yet you're feeding rats."
"My mice are used to view the effects of an Iteration prior to human testing. It's much easier, and none of them have rampaged through seven city blocks."
"Don't you talk to me like that," Freddy said.
"My apologies," Gallows said, forcing his emotions back into the depths of his mind. "But you do have to decide where your priorities lie, either in perfecting the formula, or in producing more of the flawed iteration."
"Arg!" The noise that emerged from Freddy was not unlike that made by a petulant child on the verge of a tantrum. "Split your time. I need some product to move, but we have to keep moving forward."
"In that case, I need to feed my mice, and more precursor chemicals." Gallows held out a slip of paper with a handwritten list.
"What's this?"
"If you want more Iteration Seven, I need more supplies. It's not me being obstinate, it's just the facts of life."
"I don't know what half this shit is," Freddy said.
"If you or your subordinates make sure it's exactly as I've written it, that will not be an issue."
"Don't you talk down to me, Hangman."
Gallows sighed. "I am trying to do what you asked me to. The fact that it involves chemical reagents without common names isn't something I can help."
"You's lucky I still have need of you, or you'd be dead right about now." Freddy stalked from the room, leaving Gallows alone with his mice. Gallows reached inside the cage with the overgrown specimen and scratched it behind the ears as if it were a cat.
"I hope the new procedure works. I can't test it." The oversized mouse gave him a quizzical look. Gallows chuckled to himself. "Can you even understand me?" He didn't get a response, but hadn't expected one. He shook his head and closed the door to the cage. "The catalyst is the most problematic part of the procedure."
Ed's eyebrow rose at the sight of Errol seated at the kitchen table surrounded by schoolwork. Lazar closed the front door of the halfway house behind them.
"How'd Flynn get back here before us?" Ed asked. "Doesn't his school get out later?"
"Leyden Academy was closed today on account of the mass shooting next door," Errol said. "I never left."
"Ugh," Lazar said, tucking his headphones into his pocket, "You got a day off? We had a stupid assembly where some woman bi-" He cut himself off and glanced towards Gabe sitting on the far side of the kitchen table. "Complained about guns for two hours."
"You boys should get changed," Gabe said. "As I understand it, Wolfjack will be along to conduct a flying lesson."
"Another one?" Ed asked.
"It may be a skill you've already mastered, but the others need it," Gabe said. Ed shrugged and headed to his room. Errol packed up his schoolwork and headed upstairs.
"You're not going to believe this," Lazar said.
"Believe what?" Errol asked.
"Ed's girlfriend is real."
"You're right, I don't believe it."
"She was at the assembly today," Lazar said. "Her name's Melanie. She's not exactly a stunner, but..."
"But, better than no one at all," Errol finished for him. Errol closed the door to his room and changed into his Junior Redemptioner attire, including his armor.
"Have you been cleared for that?" Ed asked as Errol emerged again.
"So long as I don't re-activate the integrated weapons," Errol said.
"Could you even manage?"
"I haven't checked." The two descended the stairs and joined Lazar in the living room.
"Wolfjack's late," Lazar said.
"Well, we already determined he was our age. So if he isn't a student at the Academy, he'd have to go from school to his home, base, or whatever, get changed himself, and come here," Ed said.
"We can safely assume he doesn't attend Leyden, he'd be here by now if he'd had the day off."
Kevan descended the stairs in his Ranger Roy attire.
"When did you get here?" Ed asked.
"While you were getting dressed," Kevan said. There was a knock at the door. Being closest, Kevan answered it.
"Traffic has been obnoxious since you guys broke the Shining Future," Wolfjack said.
"Traffic was obnoxious before we broke the Shining Future," Ed said. "Just obnoxious someplace else."
"Hey! 'We' didn't break the bridge," Lazar said. "It was the guy with the eye beams."
"Sure, blame a dead guy. Are we ready to get going?" Wolfjack asked.
"Yes," Errol said, standing up. The four youths filed out of the halfway house.
"We're going to start today with a practical test. You're going to try to fly as a group from here to Briar Park," Wolfjack said. "As a group being the operative phrase. Don't leave anyone behind."
Kevan gave a nervous chuckle and began adjusting the dial on his belt. The noise echoed inside his helmet. The others stood around, waiting for him to find the right setting and ignite his rockets. Hurtling skywards at an angle, Kevan bit his lower lip to avoid inappropriate utterances. Being more certain of themselves in the air, the other four formed a box around Kevan in case he lost control. "You know, I think I hate flying," Kevan said.
"You're getting too high," Wolfjack said. "And we're going the wrong way. That's headed towards downtown."
Kevan fiddled with the dial to increase his effective weight and curtail his ascent. Ed yanked on his arm and veered him away from a tower block. "I really hate flying," Kevan said. He nudged the dial a bit further, so that his angled posture kept him mostly level and moving forward. He was slowly rising, but not so fast that it worried him.
"All right, now Briar Park is-" Wolfjack was cut off as a gloved fist at the front of a white-and-blue streak plowed into his jaw and sent him spinning away. After a brief pirouette, he plopped unglamorously onto a rooftop. The figure who'd struck him slowed down to take a look at his handiwork. The blue and white gang colors sparked recognition in the four, but the blue plastic mask with a crude white stripe painted down the middle was new. He made a complex hand sign in the direction of the Junior Redemptioners.
"K-O in one!" he yelled.
"What the fuck, asshole!" Ed shouted back.
"What? Tights can give it but can't take it?" He hurtled at Ed, but the young man darted out of the way. Instead, the blue-masked gang member continued on to collide with Kevan. A string of profanity echoed through the bronze helmet as the two spiraled out of control over downtown New P
ort Arthur. For a brief instant, their flailing forms were reflected in the mirror finish of Sterling Towers. The other three raced after the pair, following the juttering corkscrew path played out in the faint smoke trail from the rockets. The rooves fell away as they passed out of downtown and over the Bricks. Kevan finally shoved the gang member away. As he looked in the direction he was headed, he smashed through a chain-link barrier and into a concrete wall.
The gang member laughed briefly, until he saw Kevan tap off the rockets and begin to disentangle himself from the fencing. The chain link had been affixed along the balcony to separate it from the sixteen-story plunge to the pavement. "Where?" The question was all Kevan got out before the masked gang member slammed into his chest. Being on firmer footing, Kevan shrugged off the hit and seized his opponent by the scruff of the neck. "I might not be that great in the air, but we're on solid ground now," Kevan said.
The gang member laughed. "Look around, we're in Riverside, bitch. This is my turf!" He thumped his chest with his free hand. It was a less intimidating motion than he'd intended, given the grip Kevan had on him. Kevan glanced to either side. The balcony corridor he was in ran between the metal-clad doors of the corner apartments. There was a staircase at either end, and a couple of apartment doors along the wall behind him. That wall, along with the floor, was defaced with streaks of spray paint. Rust stains wept out of the concrete between patches where the concrete had simply spalled off, exposing the corroded rebar skeleton. Thoughtlessly discarded trash fluttered in the breeze that howled mournfully though the building's passages. When the wind picked up, the howl turned into an almost-human scream.
Gang colors appeared at the stairwells, coming out of doors, and drifting down from the roof outside. Those who flew had the same white-striped blue mask as the guy in Kevan's grip. "Why'd you drag him here?" one of the two fliers asked.
"Oh, come on, this is the guy who beat up Markus on the bridge."
"You mean Mister Indestructible?" Kevan asked.
"He was one of us."
"I got that from the color coding," Kevan said. "Before we get into this, can I ask a question? Since when do gang members wear masks casually?"
"It means we can handle our Blue." Before he could say anything else, the flying gang member was struck from behind by a double kick to the lower spine. His companion was tackled from the air by an armored figure in red. The four plowed into the concrete, though the gang members took the brunt of it.
"Miss us?" Ed asked.
The sound of rounds being chambered echoed down the balcony as sure as a gunshot.
"You boys bulletproof?" a guy with a Kalashnikov asked.
"Yes," Errol said, grabbing the barrel and slamming the heel of his palm into the bridge of the man's nose. Whipping the Kalashnikov like a club, he cracked it across the jaw of a guy with a machine pistol. Errol quickly reversed direction to smash the side of the receiver into the face on a third gang member who was trying to disentangle a handgun from his waistband. As the three collapsed, he stripped out the magazine and cleared the chamber. The assault rifle clattered to the concrete.
The clang of metal on metal drew everyone's attention to the opposite end of the hallway. A towering figure in grease-stained overalls pulled a massive wrench away from the now-dented fence post and laid it on his shoulder. His blue welding mask had a cracked skull stenciled on its face. The gang member wriggled free from Kevan's grasp and rushed over towards the new arrival. "Skullcracker, we-"
"You're a moron," the towering figure said. He grabbed the gang member and smashed his jaw down into an upraised knee in a shower of spittle, blood, and teeth. The shattered plastic mask tumbled away as he crumpled to the floor.
"Why do I get the feeling things have not taken a turn for the better?" Lazar asked.
Kevan intercepted Skullcracker's charge, the floor cracking under his anchored feet as the force of the impact tried to find an outlet. Slowly, inexorably, Skullcracker forced the smaller man back with a growl of effort. The weather-beaten concrete continued to splinter underfoot as Kevan began to skid. "Why do I keep running into guys even stronger than I am?" Kevan asked. A laugh shook Skullcracker's massive frame. Welding mask struck bronze with the peal of a church bell, sending Kevan tumbling. Even rising fast enough to catch the swinging wrench with both hands, Kevan was knocked into the wall, smashing off the outer layer of concrete. A grid of rebar and pebbled aggregate appeared from behind the cloud of dust as chunks fell to the floor.
"We have to do something," Lazar said.
"That guy's a beast," Ed said, "Unless we're going to shoot him, we haven't got anything that will even slow him down."
Errol glanced down at his bracer before unstrapping it from his arm. "How well do you know your dad's work?"
"What?"
"Can you get this sonic lance operational?" Errol handed the bracer to Ed. Ed looked at the mechanism embedded in a recessed slot in the padding. It was fitted to a narrow aperture near the front edge of the bracer, but ran most of its length.
"All we need to do is reconnect the power supply and replace the audio source."
The sound of Kevan hammering a series of punches into Skullcracker's thick middle was followed by an ominous chuckle. "I'm a good, old-fashioned, powered boy," Skullcracker said. "That don't hurt one bit."
The three Junior Redemptioners scrambled away from Skullcracker as Kevan was pushed further along the crumbling floor.
"I've reconnected the power," Ed said, "but we need an initial sound wave, or it won't fire."
"Can you be more specific? What are we looking for?" Errol asked.
"Anything with an eighth-inch audio jack will work."
"Gentlemen," Lazar said, holding out his phone, "I give you the power of rock." The phone was paused in the middle of the track he'd been listening to when they'd arrived at the halfway house.
Ed snatched the glass and plastic brick, yanking out Lazar's headphones and plugging it into the sonic lance. Errol flinched when Ed hit play, but the weapon didn't do anything. He jabbed his finger at part of the mechanism. "That's your trigger. For God's sake, don't hit any of us, and try not to hit anyone normal." With the crash of shattering concrete and the tink of manufactured stone on manufactured stone, Kevan was slammed to the floor. Ed and Lazar scurried to the other side of Errol as he held the bracer to his forearm and sighted along it. Skullcracker had barely enough time to cock his head in confusion before the peal of a power chord reverberated through the balcony. The auditory bleed along the path of the shot from the sonic lance revealed the source of its initial waveform. Skullcracker stumbled back as the blast of sound caught him square in the chest.
Errol fired again, this time sending a snippet of lyrics along the concrete corridor along with the start of a riff. Skullcracker sagged to one knee, sputtering. Errol's mask hid his embarrassment. as the third press of the trigger did nothing. He'd depleted the charge in the capacitors, and it was still building back up to power. As Skullcracker rose, Kevan shoulder-checked him backwards, and the two tumbled to the floor. Interlacing his fingers, Kevan dropped a two-fisted hammer blow to the side of Skullcracker's head. He knocked the welding mask from Rance's face as he took a wrench to his own with enough force to crease the bronze of his helmet.
Ed watched the brawl with morbid fascination, knowing he could do little more to affect it.
"Look out!" Lazar called, shoving Ed to the side.
A single gunshot rang out.
Lazar sank to his knees, a trickle of red pouring down the gray middle of his hero suit. "That really fucking hurts," he muttered as he crumpled.
At the end of the hall stood a man in blue coattails and a trilby. Smoke wafted from the muzzle of a chromed pistol in his hand.
Part 15
Freddy smirked as Ed frantically tried to staunch the flow of blood from th
e hole in Lazar's midriff. Errol turned and took aim. Freddy cracked off three more shots, two striking Errol's chest, and one right between his eyes. The round to the forehead snapped Errol's head back, but it returned to its proper position with little more than a scuff on the handsome features molded into the faceplate. The smirk slipped from Freddy's lips. He leapt out of the path of a harmony that caved in the steel clad door at the end of the hall.
Freddy's mind scrambled though his immediate options. He could try to get down four floors to where his posse was hanging out. Come back with more guns at the risk of his reputation as a tough guy, unafraid of death. He could try to get inside the safe range of the sonic weapon and take on a costumed hero up close and personal. Or... he could make it to the end of the hall where Gallows was cooking up Lucid Blue, boost himself, and then try to take on the tights. This last plan was the most appealing, and had the advantage of just requiring that he keep moving in the direction he was already going. Skidding to a stop, he unlocked the door, and ducked inside. He slammed it closed and locked the deadbolt.
Gruefield 18 (Tarnished Sterling Omnibus) Page 62