“Whatever,” Imp said. “Still pretty random.”
“This is the same thing, except it’s weaponized. Or made into a defense system, depending on how you want to look at it. I’d bet most of the building is rigged with some crazy high pressure, as well as whatever devices he’s got that are detonating on exposure to the outside.”
“Okay, with you so far,” Clockblocker said.
“But where are they keeping the hostages? Option one is that they’ve got them in some sealed area, like they stuck Cherish into, and all of the Nine members in the building are immune to that pressure and cold. Multiple Mannequins, maybe a Siberian in a sealed case?”
“What’s option two?” Grue asked.
“The inside is safe. Apartments or offices bordering on exterior walls would be pressurized, but the interior walls, all of the rooms of the building that aren’t rigged, they’d be safe, with hostages and the Nine inside.”
Clockblocker nodded. “Makes sense, but that’s a lot of speculation.”
“Theory two is a lot easier to prove,” I said. “We either need to go in through the top, and hope the roof isn’t as protected-”
“-or access the interior without passing into exterior rooms,” Vista said.
Shuffle could have done that, I thought. Had we sent the wrong teams to the wrong locations? It had sounded like there was a hell of a lot of offensive power at the other location.
“I’ll try,” Vista said. “Hold on.”
This was a more refined use of her power. She drew on the exterior of the building, and created a depression, but the goal this time wasn’t to create a hole. She extended the depression inward, but she fed enough of the surrounding material into it to keep the resulting walls intact.
It stopped, and she merged it into another wall. I couldn’t see the wall, but I could sense it with my bugs. To my eyes, it was a black void, a hole too deep for my bugs to reach.
She paused, then began opening an experimental hole in the far wall. I pulled my bugs back to make it easier for her.
I could feel the warm air blow past my bugs. I could smell it using their senses. An alien sensation, but I noted the scent of blood, the acrid chemical odor of the sealing materials.
“Way’s open,” Vista said.
“It’s messy in there,” I said. “Be prepared. Sending bugs in now. Grue? Darkness.”
We waited as he pumped the building full of darkness. My bugs made their way through, scanning the surroundings.
“Murder Rat,” Grue said. “Three of her. I can… kind of sense what others are sensing around me, and there’s a glimmer of something that might be a teleportation power. I don’t trust myself to use it without any ability to sense where I’m going. Breeds… And… I can’t even get a bead on this guy’s powers.”
Was it? I could sense figures moving throughout the darkness, but they were swift, and moved in unpredictable directions. The elevator shaft’s doors had been opened, and they climbed up and through with no difficulty. There were countless people, hanging from the ceiling by chains, countless pieces of armor, as though Mannequin was trying to reinvent his own gear, and then on the penthouse level…
A man, easily eight feet tall, muscular and broad-shouldered, sitting at a computer chair with one foot propped up on a desk. His chest was bare, his pants no doubt a normal size, but rendered skintight by his sheer mass, left unzipped. He was watching something violent on a laptop as he sat there. The hostages who weren’t strung up with chains were in the room, cowering behind him as a full cluster. In the midst of them, there was something that looked like a coffin.
“Try using his power?”
“Not sure I want to,” Grue said, “But okay. Um.”
I felt my powers dim, my range swiftly dropping. Others stepped away from him in surprise.
“Stop,” I said.
He did. My powers started to return.
“That’s one. Jesus, that’s a rush. The other… I think it’s the sort of power you need the built-in second sense to grasp.”
“That has to be Hatchet Face. I guess you can use his power nullification,” I said, “That’s something, if we hit a pinch. I just don’t understand this other power. Bonesaw’s work? A hybrid?”
Grue nodded. “Possible.”
I frowned. “Not sure how to do this. If we entered through the top floor, we could access the hostages right away, defeat Hatchet Face.”
“Sounds good,” Clockblocker said.
“Except… what do the rest do?” I asked. “Some signal goes off, or they realize something’s up… they’re not fighting types, not exactly. They’re assassins, indirect attackers. They wouldn’t just converge on us. I don’t know how they’d react, and it’s not the kind of situation where I can say that in a good way.”
“We need to make a call soon,” Grue said. “You said the other team is already attacking?”
“I thought this would be simpler,” I said. “Let’s go in the ground floor. Clear each floor, block off escape routes, so they can’t just exit the building and go wreak mayhem elsewhere, or notify Jack. They can fall back to the main room where Hatchet Face is waiting, and-”
“And then we’ve got a hell of a fight on our hands,” Grue said. “Against enemies with hostages.”
“Cornered rats with hostages,” Vista said. The little of her face I could see in the flashlight-illuminated gloom was somber.
“Ground floor,” I said. “If nothing else, it buys us time to think of something before we reach a crisis point. The alternative… I don’t like the idea that so many of these guys could escape. They’ve bottled themselves up nicely. Stay on your guard.”
“Are you staying outside?” Clockblocker asked me.
I shook my head. “Need to maintain communications against this team, and I don’t like how long it would take to communicate using my bugs, or the chance you could get cut off. I’ll come with, help watch your backs.”
There were nods all around.
“Go,” I said, before touching my earbud. “Tattletale.”
There was a pause.
“Weaver. Kind of busy watching over the other team. Sup?”
“Entering the fray. Looks like Mannequins, Murder Rats, Breeds and one Hatchet Face hybrid.”
“Got it. G’luck.”
Rachel had kept the dogs at a smaller size so they could patrol the building we’d been hiding out in. It meant they were big, but not so big that they filled the entire hallway. They passed through the corridor Vista had made without trouble.
We filed in, shoulder to shoulder, and I did what I could to track the various villains in the building. Grue dissipated the darkness as we got close enough to the respective areas to shine our flashlights on the objects in question.
Ominous, being in the midst of this building, almost like being in a submarine. There was an incredible, devastating pressure all around us. A leak meant a possible terminal end to all of us. The darkness was oppressive, and every surface was covered in the red sealant, scabrous, hard, removing the human touch from everything around us.
I was so caught up in it that I nearly missed it. A figure in the ducts.
“There,” I said, keeping my voice low. I pointed.
Our side turned to look.
Mannequin, I thought. I immediately switched mental gears. Who to protect, what to do tactically.
I hit the briefest stumbling block when the recollection of what Clockblocker had been talking about crossed my mind. Why does he remember his suit?
The same outfit, with alterations. The all-concealing, all-protecting shell surrounding his body, even the joints.
Bastard lunged for him, jaws snapping shut, but the Mannequin cartwheeled back and away.
Vista fired her gun, sending a single green spark zipping ahead. Mannequin swayed to one side, bending his body at impossible angles to avoid the shot. The bullet hit the wall, then briefly flared, disintegrating a scab-covered vending machine.
Lines ex
ploded forward from Clockblocker’s hands, one from each finger, and the Mannequin staggered back. The narrow cables flew past him, glanced off his armor to ricochet into the surrounding area, and one or two even managed to wind around his arm or leg.
Clockblocker used his power, freezing the Mannequin in place.
“Vista,” he said, “Another shot!”
She still had her gun leveled at Mannequin. She aimed-
And the Mannequin let a blade spring from his palm. It punched through the wall at the very edge of our tunnel.
Ice exploded into the interior of the hallway, consuming the Mannequin entirely.
Vista dropped her gun.
“No escape route,” Crucible said.
“Can’t shoot without putting us at risk,” Vista said. “I can make another exit, but it’s going to take a minute.”
“Not a focus,” I said. “Upstairs first. Hostages first. We’ll cross that bridge after.”
We had to walk around in a semicircle before we found ourselves by the elevators and stairwells of the lobby. The stairwell was framed by two bodies, hung by their feet. No wounds were visible.
I felt with my bugs, and I could sense warmth from them. Still alive.
Breed.
What were we even supposed to do with his victims?
For the second time in as many minutes, I found myself saying, “We deal with them after.”
We entered the stairwell. I was aware of a Murder Rat popping in on the ground floor, crawling on hands and feet that each had excessively long blades on the ends. She moved faster than she should have been able to, considering her means of locomotion, but she had an exceedingly strong, flexible body. Enhanced senses, too, with her conical nose close to the ground, long greasy hair brushing against the surface. I almost turned back to deal with her, but she was already gone, moving faster than my bugs could.
Claustrophobic. I was acutely aware of the dimensions of the space, the fact that only a fraction of the building could actually hold people. Of that portion of the building interior, the elevator shafts took up an awful lot of space.
Their territory, really.
The stairs hadn’t received as much of the ‘scab’ treatment, but they were still treacherous ground. The stairs blocked our view of what was above or below us. I was careful to check for threats every step of the way, watching doors, sweeping over surfaces, all too aware that Mannequin had evaded my bugs before.
Had this one somehow retained the lessons the original had learned? I could use thread to cover more ground, spread out my bugs.
An air vent at the very top floor was punched free of the wall. My bugs could sense the long claws, the conical nose. They started chewing on her, devouring and biting, but her skin was tough, as though most of it was scar tissue. I could feel the hot air as she rapidly inhaled and exhaled.
“Murder Rat, she’s on the top-”
She pushed herself free of the vent, lunging, drawing her claws together as if she were diving into water from a height. Her narrow, emaciated body slipped right between the railings of the ascending and descending stairs.
“Incoming!” I shouted. I pushed the others back as I could reach them. The only ones in reach were Rachel and Crucible.
She reached the stairwell just above us and kicked off it, changing her orientation and the trajectory of her dive. She slammed into the largest, most obvious target -Grue- all of her claw-tips drawn together into one long spike.
He was thrown against the walls and the stairs, and his tumble down the stairs just below him drove him into Toggle and Vista, who nearly fell down the stairs along with him.
Murder Rat was still on top of him, shifting the movements of her limbs to remain more or less upright as she perched on his body. Her head cocked quizzically. The blades hadn’t penetrated.
She lashed out, striking, only her target was exposed skin, this time. Vista’s face, Crucible’s jaw. Bastard’s shoulder.
And then she kicked the wall, drawing her shoulders together as she slid between Clockblocker’s legs, her nose pointed at the gap in the railing.
Clockblocker shifted his foot to make contact with the long blades at her toes, touching her, and froze her in place.
“My face,” Vista whispered.
“Put pressure on it,” Crucible said. His own face was bleeding badly, but he didn’t even seem to notice.
And, more troubling, the wound was smoking. Murder Rat’s power.
I turned my attention to Grue. “Are you hurt?”
“No. I… shit, how did that not break a rib?”
I shook my head. Still using the costume I made, and it saved your life.
He accepted my help in standing. I turned my attention to the Brockton Bay Wards, but there were too many people crowded there for me to jump in and help. I focused on the other threats.
I could sense the others swarming around us, on stairs above and below. I drew out lines of silk to stop them from using the same approach this Murder Rat had managed.
For extra measure, I tied thread around the frozen Murder Rat’s throat, tying it to the railing.
She was a composite of two ‘kitchen sink’ capes. Mouse Protector and Ravager. Two primary powers that had blended into the one, a dozen other minor powers. Flexibility, a bizarre kind of enhanced strength, reflexes and agility that had peaks and valleys, and skin as tough as leather.
“Pinch it shut, tape it,” Clockblocker was saying. “We spray it to keep it closed. Smells awful.”
“I kind of like the smell,” Vista said, her words muffled by the hand Crucible was pressing to her face. “Hey, this’ll be a badass scar, huh?”
“Quiet,” Clockblocker said.
I could hear another Murder Rat on the stairs below us. She let her claw drag on the wall, and the metal on concrete made a sound like five nails on a chalkboard. Loud, slowly increasing in volume as she approached us.
I set my bugs on her. She persisted, simply enduring what they were doing to her. I tried to go for the tiny eyes that were nearly buried behind her altered face and brow, but she shut them, relying on touch and smell to move. I started to pack bugs around her nose and mouth, and found that slowed her just a fraction.
But the noise continued. I could see the effect it was having on the others.
A rattling noise from above, joined by another nails-on-blackboard screech. A Mannequin, using the blades he’d extended from his forearms to scrape the wall and hit the individual bars that held the railing up at chest level, the same bars that the Murder Rat had tried to slip between to make her escape.
“It burns,” Vista said. Her fingers raised to the mark that ran from the side of her chin to her cheekbone.
“The meds?” Clockblocker asked.
“The smoke. Stinging my eyes, and feels like it’s fizzing. I read the file, this is her power, right? It’s what she does?”
“It’s going to take a long time to heal,” Clockblocker said. “Pretty much guarantees a scar. But we stopped the bleeding, which is better than most get.”
The dog growled as another Murder Rat joined the fray, her clawed feet clicking against the steps as she made her descent, the screeches of her claws against the concrete joining what was quickly becoming a cacophony. The blades at the fingertips of her other hand struck the bars of the railing, which set them to ringing.
Then, from the first and fourth floors, I could sense Breed’s minions make their approach. In the midst of the banging and screeching, their hissing was almost impossible to make out.
One more Mannequin hung back, letting the little bastards climb on him. They were smallish. Smaller than the ones in Killington had been.
I shifted my weight, ready for one of them to make an attack at any moment. Indirect attacks, surprise attacks, all from directions that were hard to anticipate.
“Three Mannequins and a Rat above us,” I said. “Two rats below us. Lots of Breed’s bastard parasites on both sides.”
“I could use my d
arkness, but it wouldn’t help much,” Grue said.
“They don’t sense things like we do. My bugs aren’t going to do much either,” I said. “Laying tripwires and trying to bind them here and there, but these aren’t guys my bugs can sting.”
“So?” Rachel asked.
“We die,” Imp said, with an odd cheerfulness. “Horribly, gruesomely. They’ll break or sever our arms and legs and cap them with Mannequin’s stuff so we don’t bleed out, and then they’ll let Breed’s bugs devour us from the inside out.”
“Not helping, Imp,” Grue said.
“I’m only saying what we already know. Kind of counterproductive, morale-wise, to have us read all the dossiers on these bastards.”
“Yeah. Just a little,” Crucible agreed.
“Why are we waiting here?” Rachel asked, her voice a little too loud. “Why don’t we just fucking attack them?”
I didn’t have a good rebuttal to that.
No, that wasn’t right. I had a dozen rebuttals. That these guys would take any offensive action on our part as an excuse to slip past us and murder our more vulnerable members.
But I didn’t have a better strategy. Not one I was eager to use so prematurely.
“Attack,” I said. “Now.”
Rachel whistled, a long sharp sound that cut through the various noises the Nine’s members had created. There was only silence as the whistle echoed through the stairwell.
She snapped her fingers and pointed up the stairs, snapped again and pointed down.
The two dogs charged in the alternate direction.
“Wards, go up. Grue, Imp, Rachel, help cover the rear,” I gave the orders. “Watch your backs!”
We split into two groups, the Wards leading the charge, while the Undersiders covered the flanks. I remained in the center, my knife drawn.
A Murder Rat tried to jump down through the gap, as the first had, but got tangled in the threads I’d woven. She began severing them, one by one, but too slow to slip through. Vista shot her.
With her death scream, the others shifted tactics, abandoning the offense. Mannequins advanced to take over the assault.
Another got caught in the threads, but blades sprung out all over his body, the individual components rotating, and the threads were cut. He dropped down.
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