Bethany shook her head. “No one knows about Fortress Eighteen. In fact, the location of every fortress is confidential, even to other employees. Our fortress is R and D.”
“So aside from research and development, what else does...did, Cameron Frost have his fingers in?”
“Oh, a bunch of different things,” she said with an awkward shrug, still clutching her tablet like a security blanket. “Fortress One is agriculture, Fortress Two is connectivity, Three is artificial intelligence, Four is space exploration...it goes on and on.” She paused for a moment and took a breath, seemingly to re-focus her attention. “So, why are you all here again?”
As I spoke with Bethany, I wasn’t aware that Peyton had wandered off in search of better reception for her com. She opened the small round device she’d located on level three of The Spiral, and had acquired a signal for a local simulcast. “Matty,” she shouted, “you need to see this.”
I jogged to the edge of the hoverpad where Brynja and McGarrity were already gathered, cupping a hand over their eyes to make out the images on the screen. Even though it was two-dimensional, and the colors were washed out against the setting sun, a picture was beginning to snap into focus. A crowd was gathering – hundreds, maybe thousands – outside of a hospital, surrounded by snow-capped evergreens.
The reporter was speaking Thai as the camera panned over the screaming mob, which was of little help – but I was able to discern a few of her words that were said in broken English: “Thunder Bay.”
Chapter Thirty
“We can’t just rush back there without a plan,” Peyton said, clutching my upper arm with both hands. “You know Valeriya will be expecting that.”
“She’s right,” Brynja added. “We have no weapons and no strategy. She has an army.”
We were finally safe, apparently beyond her reach. Valeriya Taktarov had no way to retaliate after being forced to flee Fortress 23, so she was making her final play – the only move she had left. She promised to make the people I love suffer, and that I’d be forced to watch them die; I had Peyton and Brynja with me, Gavin was nowhere to be found, and my sister and her kids were under police protection; the last person she could get to was Kenneth Livitski, who was clinging to life in a coma. I hated myself for not considering this option. With Valeriya’s resources it was just a matter of time before she’d locate Kenneth, and in her mindset, she’d have no misgivings about executing a man who was lying defenceless in a hospital bed.
It was no secret that I betrayed Kenneth back in Arena Mode; ending his life before I could make it up to him would be the ultimate act of revenge. And threatening him, Valeriya was well aware, would be the most effective way to draw me out in the open.
“We can’t expose you like this,” Brynja said. “Think this through: as far as we know, the Canadian and American governments sanctioned your execution. You can’t just waltz back there now – the cops might execute you before the Red Army does.”
I was so incensed that I trembled. Part of it was rage, because I knew Brynja’s assessment was dead-on. And part of it was teeth-grinding frustration, because there is nothing that I hate more than this kind of paralysis – knowing that something has to be done, and not having a logical solution to see it through. Raking my fingers through my hair, I considered every possible course of action. “Bethany,” I said, “what kind of weapons do you have here?”
“N-nothing,” she stuttered. “I mean, we’re research and development, but nothing military-grade. Everything we’re working on at the moment is for transit.”
“There has to be security protocols,” I snapped, throwing my hands apart. “Come on, think – there’s nothing? Not even a guard with a sidearm?”
“Look at this place!” she said, her eyes darting around the perimeter of the hoverpad. “We’re in the middle of an ocean. No one even knows we’re here, and if any suspicious aircraft approach we cloak and go into lockdown.”
I let out a frustrated groan and turned to my friends. “We’ve lost too many people today. People who didn’t deserve to die. Kenneth, he’s...” I trailed off, letting my head sag. The thought of losing him – especially like this – was twisting my stomach into a painful knot.
“I know,” Brynja whispered, running her hand along my shoulder. She had forged an alliance with Kenneth inside The Arena as well, and knew better than anyone about the pain of letting someone go. She could be jaded when it came to losing acquaintances – almost to the point of being callous – but her armor was stripped away when it came to Kenneth. She’d be as devastated about his loss as I would.
McGarrity used the light from the setting sun to produce a glowing broadsword. “I can’t let you go alone and hog all the glory. This shit is gonna be seen worldwide, so when you come out on top I wanna be there.”
Whether he was doing it for my benefit or for his ever-expanding ego, I didn’t care. Brynja and I desperately needed backup, and McGarrity was the cavalry. “Thank you,” I said with a small nod.
“And,” he added without missing a beat, “let’s face it, Mox – without me you’re kinda fucked.”
I nodded again. “I appreciate your candor.”
“Let me guess,” Peyton interjected, “‘You’re a delicate tulip – stay behind and out of danger’?”
Pulling Peyton aside, I left Brynja and McGarrity to board the jet. “I was going to say that I need you to carry on here – just in case something happens to me.”
“Carry on what?”
“This,” I said, motioning around me. “The Frost Corporation...or whatever you want to re-name it.”
“You want me to run your business?”
“No matter what happens in Thunder Bay, it’s all yours now. Most of my assets will be in your name by the end of the week.”
Peyton wrapped her hands around the back of my neck and leaned in, resting her forehead against mine. “This is crazy, Matty – what am I going to do with billions of dollars?”
I replied with a tiny smile. “What you always do: make a difference.”
Her tired eyes fell shut. “I don’t want this much responsibility,” she whispered.
“And I don’t want to be this chiseled and handsome, but—”
“We all have our crosses to bear,” she said with a weak smile.
I glanced over Peyton’s shoulder and spotted McGarrity, standing at the top of the jet’s entrance ramp, frantically waving me in.
“You’re the one,” I said, brushing my lips against her cheek for what might have been the last time.
“And you’re late,” she replied. “We’ll finish this discussion when you get back – now go save the day.”
Chapter Thirty-One
The trip from one side of the planet to the other took only seconds. The brilliant sunset over the South China Sea blinked away, replaced by a dull grey sky that blanketed Western Ontario.
Teleporting was not an exact science, according to Bethany – at least not yet. The TT-100 got us in the general vicinity of our destination, but we’d have to manually land the craft once we made our approach. The early morning sunlight that filtered through dense clouds and flurrying snow made visibility an issue, but fortunately we were able to borrow an experienced pilot from Fortress Eighteen. He agreed to stay aboard and hover back into the clouds, waiting until we signaled for an extraction. It was essential for our jet to avoid gunfire and superhuman entanglements. Without a functioning aircraft we’d have no way to escape, and I had no intention of making this a one-way trip.
We touched down on the hospital’s rooftop hoverpad. The door slid open, and before the ramp could extend into place I leapt into the knee-deep snow and hurtled towards the staircase. I ran faster than I’d ever run before. Brynja was at my side and McGarrity followed closely behind, sword illuminated, screaming like a Viking prepared to sack a village. Within moments we were in the hall, sprinting towards Kenneth’s room. A janitor – the same one I passed three months ago – mopped the floor in roughly the s
ame location, this time with a pair of oversized headphones engulfing his narrow head. He didn’t even look up as we flew by.
We rounded the corner and spotted Kenneth’s room. Without thinking I threw open the door, and had stumbled several paces inside before I spotted them: Valeriya flanked by a pair of her henchmen, with assault rifles in-hand.
I didn’t have time to react. The following events happened before I could draw a single breath. Shots rang out and my eardrums nearly burst; confined in a small room, the gunfire sounded like grenades going off inside my skull. The ringing in my ears was shot through with a frantic scream at my back. I spun to see McGarrity laying just outside of the room; his reddened t-shirt obscured his wounds, and a dark puddle expanded around him. Brynja was crouched at his side, shaking his motionless body.
With a twitch of her finger Valeriya invited Brynja to approach. She stood and paced slowly into the room, leaving a trail of crimson footprints behind.
“Close the door,” Valeriya hissed.
Her henchmen leveled their guns, pressing the stocks into their shoulders.
I froze. My eyes flicked to Kenneth’s hospital bed, and thankfully he was still breathing. The electronic device tethered to his comatose body was blipping quietly, and the pulsing red line on the wall monitor jumped with each heartbeat.
Valeriya, angered by Brynja’s hesitation, snapped her finger towards the entrance. “Close. The. Door.” She was biting off each word, grinding them between her teeth.
Brynja raised her hands and inched backwards, using a single digit to push the door closed until it latched. The guards looked twitchy, so she was careful not to make any sudden movements. As it swung shut I spotted McGarrity in my peripheral vision, and hoped that someone would tend to him – although after the sound of gunfire erupted down the hallways I doubted that any staff remained in the area. Either way, he wasn’t coming to our rescue.
“Think this through,” I said softly. “This is over. At the fortress you had immunity, but this is the real world. There’ll be consequences.”
“But not for you,” Valeriya scoffed. “For the God Slayer there is only celebration and the spoils of victory.”
I shook my head. “You think that’s what I’ve been doing since Arena Mode? Partying like a rock star? That freak show ruined my life.”
“Ruined your life?” she shouted.
“Yes,” I fired back. “Since last summer I barely sleep. And when I do I see Frost, and your brother, and everyone else who died that day...I didn’t want any of them to die, but there was no choice.”
“You always have a choice, Matthew Moxon. That is what life is: a series of choices. They are a painful necessity of being a human.”
“And of being a superhuman. Your brother went into Arena Mode knowing he might not come out.” I took a small step forward and Valeriya’s henchmen readjusted their firearms, just enough to let me know they hadn’t fallen asleep at their posts. I locked my feet in place, careful not to move another muscle. “This is over,” I repeated. “Walk away, and we’ll do the same.”
Valeriya shook her head with disgust. “If the two of you think I have come this far to let you walk away now, you do not understand my commitment. I would rather die than watch either of you experience one more second of happiness.”
Her eyes were weary, but still burned with determination. I knew what she was about to do; it was the mission Valeriya could have carried out before we had arrived, but she’d patiently awaited the audience that she needed for the show to fully resonate.
“Don’t...” was the only word Brynja could produce, her eyes darting towards Kenneth.
“You will have your executions,” Valeriya promised, “but not yet. You need to feel what I felt before leaving this world.” She marched to Kenneth’s bedside and gathered his life support cables in her tiny hands. She paused and we made eye contact; her gaze lingered for a just moment, ensuring I knew exactly what was about to transpire – as if there would be any doubt. With a downward jerk she ripped the cords from his body.
She left only his heart monitor attached. The bouncing red line on Kenneth’s wall monitor persisted, gradually weakening with every beat. We had no weapons, no back-up, and no plan...there was nothing left to do but stand witness, watching our friend slowly expire.
I dropped to my knees, and Brynja crouched at my side. The soldiers stepped forward and pressed the barrels of their guns to our temples. I didn’t even flinch. I was still fixated on the dying pulse, watching the blips as they gradually came in longer intervals...and then, before long, the remaining heartbeats faded away. The red line flattened, and a continuous droning beep cut through the silence.
Watching Kenneth’s chest rise and fall for the last time ripped out my heart. Tears rolled down my face and I silently begged him for forgiveness. It was my lie that put him here, and it was my fault this was happening; I could only imagine the pain his family would suffer knowing how he came to an end – it was almost too much to process. My only solace was that he wanted this; when Brynja read his thoughts, he asked for the plug to be pulled. I had no idea what kind of pain he was enduring in his comatose state, but at least it was over.
Valeriya smiled as I broke down. It may have been her age, but her expression didn’t seem vindictive or malicious – it was almost a smile of relief. “This is it,” she said, kneeling at my side. “This is what I have been waiting for. You believed you could save him, did you not? That one day he would walk again, and live a normal life. Now, you can die knowing you are a failure, and that the rest of your loved ones will suffer the same fate.”
Police sirens blared outside the hospital, followed by a hail of gunfire. The authorities were no doubt responding to the shots inside the building, and were being held at bay by the Red Army. Valeriya was leaving nothing to chance – no one was getting inside.
The guards ordered us to stand, and I glanced out the window. The parking lot was overrun with Taktarov’s followers, and a lone, bullet-riddled police car smoked in the distance.
“They await your trial,” Valeriya said. “It is time to pay for your transgressions. Both you and the ghost.”
I turned and began trudging towards the door, slow and resigned. Brynja followed, and remained silent; I expected her to say something telepathically – to convey some sort of emotion, or possibly formulate a plan for our escape. If she had an idea, she wasn’t sharing it.
I locked my feet for just a moment, contemplating if I’d give Valeriya and the Red Army the satisfaction of a public execution. A gun barrel jammed my spine, pushing me towards the exit.
“Move,” the guard instructed in a thick Russian accent.
Screw it. If I was going down, I’d go down swinging.
I spun and knocked the barrel aside. I pressed my gauntlet into the henchman’s throat, shouting for the stun gun to activate. He convulsed and crumpled to the floor as electricity filled his body, dropping his AK-47. I snatched it off the floor just as the stock of the second guard’s rifle slammed into my temple. James Bond always made disarming two people simultaneously look easy...I clearly hadn’t earned my double-oh status.
I lost track of the following few seconds. My next memory was the sight of the hospital room’s fluorescent bulbs spinning overhead. The concussive blow to my skull had blurred my vision and rattled my hearing. The guard who floored me drifted into focus; he was struggling to detain Brynja as he shouted instructions. His mouth was moving, but he wasn’t producing any sound – his voice was being drowned out by a piercing chime. The ringing in my ears became a pulse; a powerful series of beeps that grew louder and closer together, like a rapid-fire heartbeat that shook the room.
I felt a rush of cold wind and the guard disappeared from behind Brynja, sailing out of view. The other henchman followed. Then I was yanked to my feet, stumbling to keep my rubbery legs beneath me, eyes transfixed on the snow drifting into the room. The guards had been tossed through the fourth-story window, and had landed somewher
e in the parking lot.
My hearing snapped back like a volume knob being twisted from zero to ten. I spun to see Valeriya crouched against the wall, screaming that this was impossible, followed by something in Russian.
And standing above her was Kenneth Livitski.
Kenneth was wrapped in an electric blue body suit that glowed and pulsed with a life all its own. It was his homemade Living Eye costume on steroids: his gloves, boots, wrap-around mask, and the all-seeing eye logo emblazoned on his chest all radiated with an energy source that seemed otherworldly – if I’d seen it on film I would have sworn it was a digital effect.
It wasn’t just Kenneth’s new costume that was on steroids; his body had completely transformed. His physique was no longer frail and drawn out from months spent in a coma – he now was packed with lean muscle, healthy and vibrant. His posture even suggested a newfound confidence that I’d never seen in him before.
Kenneth extended his hand towards Valeriya, and her body shot upright. A glowing blue straightjacket materialized and latched around her, buckling its straps into place. She struggled for a moment before slipping and falling to her side with a painful thud.
As I regained my footing I teetered and swayed, still woozy from the blow to my head. Kenneth reached out and gripped my arm, steadying me. “You should have listened,” he said bluntly, glancing down at the discarded pile of cords. His eyes flicked towards Brynja. “You both should have.”
The energy from the sensors connected to Kenneth’s body were disrupting his brainwaves, preventing him from escaping the coma – it was the only explanation. Like the Cerebral Dampening Units that the government used to limit superhuman abilities, the medical devices that kept him alive were simultaneously sapping his powers. He’d been imprisoned inside of his own mind with no way to escape.
“I—I didn’t know,” I stuttered. “I thought you wanted me to kill you.”
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