DIRE : TIME (The Dire Saga Book 3)

by Andrew Seiple

  “All right.” He put the lid on the pot. “You do what you must as well, n’est-ce pas?”

  Get some sleep? Sounded like a plan. I smiled and nodded, as he headed out toward the corridor, and the great hall beyond.

  Privacy, I thought. My minions liked that when they were screwing. Best to avoid the great hall in case they used the couch. They might, it was a good couch. A quick moment of thought and recollection, and I remembered the servants’ stairs back a few rooms. I made my way up unobtrusively.

  The gas lamps were turned low upstairs, and I hesitated as I heard the floor creak ahead of me. A shadowy form strolled up the hall towards me, and I reached toward my pistol, before it waved and said “Hello.” Unstoppable’s voice.

  “Hey. What are you doing up—” ah, that was right, he didn’t sleep. “Never mind. Dumb question.”

  “No such thing.” He came into the pool of light by the landing, leaned against the door. Somewhere along the line he’d shucked his stolen Nazi uniform for some of Mitternacht’s spare clothes, and they hung loosely upon his wiry frame. A fair amount of skin was showing, particularly in the area just below his neck, and I snuck a few looks as we walked down the hall together.

  “Did Henri cover the plan?”

  “I think so. Sounds like the best thing for me to do to help is my regular thing and not die all over the place.”

  I nodded. “Got a few specific ideas on that.” I stopped before the study door, and opened it. Unstoppable peered in, surveyed the toys I’d been building.

  “Wow. Okay, I don’t know what all this stuff does, but it looks pretty swell.”

  “Small tricks. None of them particularly overwhelming taken by themselves, but used in the right place or the right time...” I mimed an explosion with my hands, and he chuckled, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. I tried to ignore how the loose sleeve of his shirt slipped down his arm, showing off sleek muscles.

  “I don’t have much to do besides waiting right now. The Jews are all bedded down for the night. And judging by the sounds downstairs, the rest of our team’s... busy.” He grinned.

  “Quite. Well, she’s going to stay up and work a bit more, so...” I looked at the door.

  “Mind if I watch you?”

  I thought it over. “No, not really. Probably going to be a bit boring.”

  “Lonely house at night, with no one around. I’d be bored anyway.”

  “Fair enough.”

  I worked and he watched, and unlike the last time, he was quiet. I’d finished the main parts of the devices earlier, now it was all about tweaking performance, packing in a few extra percentage points of effectiveness or reinforcing structure. He didn’t say a word as I checked each device, and used the last of my parts to good advantage. His presence in the room was undeniable, almost seeming to warm it every time I glanced over to him.

  Dottie had given me heartfelt advice. Did I dare follow it? This might be the last time I ever saw him. I’d never heard of him in my own time, but that didn’t mean anything. Could be operating under another alias, could be retired and enjoying a beach somewhere away from civilization. Could have found something that beat out his regeneration and left him dead in an unknown grave, for that matter. You’re only immortal until you’re not.

  After a time he rose, and moved behind me. I pretended to be engrossed in my work, but heat rose in my face, and along my spine.

  “You shouldn’t sit like that. Gonna kink up your back.”

  “Mmhm.” I managed, and tried to straighten up. Soft hands fell on my shoulders, squeezing.

  “Want a backrub? I’m pretty good at those.”

  “Mhm.”

  Implacable strength in those fingers as they squeezed, released. Squeezed, released. The warmth moved through me, and I leaned back into it.

  “I think it’s a pretty good plan.” He confessed, and the words meant so little compared to the warmth right now, and we both knew it.

  “It’s imperfect,” I sighed. “So much can go wrong. Too many factors. Their defenses...” He kissed the back of my head, and I shivered. “Schwarze Ritter’s blood, if it’s even there or not...” A kiss to the back of my neck, and I quivered. “Erp,” I think I said.

  “Least we’re reliable, huh?” Warm breath on my ear. “Well, not Hulbert. Not too happy he’s part of this plan.”

  Hulbert? Why would Unstoppable call Mitternacht Hulbert— and I knew. Knew that it had been too good to be true.

  “Reliable. Yep.”

  When I felt his breath on my neck again I twisted, grabbed his hair, and pulled.

  “Ow! Hey!”

  I stared into his smoldering blue eyes from inches away. He raised his eyebrows, smiled at me... and the smile died by inches as I scowled.

  “This isn’t funny, Loge.”

  “Ah.” Then everything twisted, and I was holding a handful of red hair, and staring into green eyes. “Well, can’t blame a god for trying.”

  “Actually she can.” I pushed him back, releasing his hair as I stood. I was still worked up and horny as hell, but now I was mad, too. “What did you do to Unstoppable?”

  He backed away, putting his hands up with little placating wavy motions. “Nothing, nothing. He’s down in the library reading. I figured since he wasn’t smart enough or considerate enough to keep you company, I’d offer.” He tried a grin. “So to speak.”

  “Out.” I pointed at the door.

  “Well, if you’re sure—”

  “Out.”

  “I mean, I can tell you’re interested. Really, it would be no trouble—”

  “Out!”

  “I’m just saying, I’m very experienced. Discreet, too. If you’re worried about—”

  Mitternacht’s best paperweight shattered against the wall, and Loge fled out the door. I looked down at the colored glass and sighed. I was tired. I’d been aiming for his head, and that was a good four feet off target.

  I stomped over, slammed the door, and got back to work.

  Two minutes in, I was still fuming, and no less aroused.

  Three minutes in, I put down the arc welder, and sighed. What did I have to lose, really?

  Before my courage could fail, I rose and made my way down a flight, to the second story of the house, and the large library that made up its central room. Sure enough, there were the remnants of embers filling the fireplace, and Unstoppable, dressed in his red suit, was curled up with a stack of books.

  He looked up as I shut the door behind me. “Hey Doc.”

  I locked the door, moved to his chair with five easy strides, and pounced him.

  A few minutes later, with most of my clothes gone, the chair overturned, and a spray of books as our cushion, I found out why Minna kept screwing Martin every chance she got. A few more minutes past that I found out that sex with someone who doesn’t get tired is pretty damned awesome. And yet a few more minutes after that, I found out that attempting exotic tricks based on pornography performed by trained actors can cause painful injuries.

  “Ow! Ow ow ow ow ow...” I said, rocking back and forth, nude as a monkey, holding my shoulder.

  “Hold on. Your shoulder’s dislocated, that’s all. This is going to hurt a lot.” Unstoppable grabbed hold of my chest and my arm, and then I was howling, screaming louder than I had back when we really got to it.

  But damned if it didn’t feel better, after my arm was back in its socket.

  “Wow. So...” He hugged me, and I hugged back, and we just existed by the fire for a while. “That’s what it’s like.”

  “Your first time?” I looked at him, aghast.

  He shrugged. “Not much chance in the orphanage. I was only noticing girls for the last year or so, before the recruiter came by. Told me about a special program I could help with.”

  I made an inquiring noise.

  “It’s how I got my powers. They put me through some pretty crazy stuff. Weird lights, lots of medicines, that sort of thing. They said I almost died.” He squ
eezed me harder. “I wasn’t the only kid they recruited. Never saw any of the others again. One of the scientists let slip there were even more than our batch.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “Yeah. But my country needed us, y’know? Sweet Jesus, look at what they’re doing here.”

  I ran my hand down his back, feeling the sweat and warmth of him. “No one during the orphanage or the program. No one afterward?”

  “No time afterward. Training and missions, and a lot of time in the field. They say they’re gathering some other powered folks. Gonna form a Brigade of us, or a Legion if they have enough eventually.”

  I’d heard of them. The Liberty Legion. Well, Brigade for most of the war, then they got upgraded. That might be a way to track him down, once I got back home.

  “She’s happy to be your first.” I whispered in his ear. “You’re kind and brave, and you have no idea how happy she is that you’re her first.”

  He stiffened. “What? Shoot, I’m sorry, I didn’t know—”

  “For what? Don’t be ridiculous, she didn’t leave you much choice in the matter.” Technically not true, if he'd asked me to stop I would've. But he hadn't. “It was wonderful. Well, maybe not the last bit. Gonna have to remember pornography doesn’t work like real life.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Point being—” I moved my hands lower. “She’s pretty sure that if you go easy on her shoulder, that she’s up for a little more experimentation...”

  Much later, in a particularly tender moment, he whispered into my ear. “Grant. My name’s Grant.”

  And damn me, I couldn’t tell him my name. I kissed him instead, and felt guilt for it, even as we moved on to more distracting matters. Still, in the end, it was only prudent. This man was a true hero, with the very real potential of being active and around during my own time. I couldn’t risk it.

  Guilt faded as exhaustion took over, and I drifted off to sleep in his arms.

  CHAPTER 15: MARTIN – CHOICES

  “It's ironic, after all is said and done, that the truth of the matter should come out in such a way. A villain's insane rampage ended up uncovering the biggest scandal that Icon City's government has seen in decades. The political fallout is still ongoing, two years later, and so is the former Mayor's trial.”

  --Dan Cromby, political commentator, during a 2003 episode of “Left Right Left”

  Martin checked the tourniquet. Soaked through again; bad news. Vorpal was shivered, glared at him with defiant eyes like this whole shitshow was his fault. This after he’d sent the Steampunks to back her up, too.

  Still, the woman was down a hand. That’d make anyone angry.

  “We’re gonna need Freeway.”

  “No heroes.”

  “You’d rather die? ’Cause that’s what’s gonna happen here unless you get a real doctor on you. And he’s the only one won’t turn us in the second he lays eyes on us.”

  “Do it.” Minna rasped. She’d been bruised all up her throat when Crusader was pounding on her, and up until he’d seen those marks Martin never thought he could hate the golden man. He’d worn underwear with the guy’s picture on it when he was a kid, for crissakes. But Crusader had hurt Minna, and that felt weirdly like some sort of betrayal.

  Still, it could have been worse. A glance at Vorpal was enough to remind him of that. And of how she’d hurt Crusader, as if the world wasn’t after them enough. It was like punching Jesus.

  Vorpal tried arguing again, but Minna just spread her hands. “We need you to save Anya and Bunny. If you want to be stupid and die after that, fine.”

  The slender woman flinched, drew in a breath. Martin shook his head. “I’m calling him. Save it.” He walked out of there, flipping his new burner phone open as he went. It was the last one in the box. After this he’d either have to go silent or risk tipping off Arachne. If she ain’t tipped off already.

  The situation was shitty. But what he was doing now? Something he should have done from the start. Painful as it is to admit you’d fucked up, it's a necessity of being a goddamn grownup about a situation. Couldn’t start making things right until you did.

  He punched in the number he knew by heart, waited for the phone to pick up. “Hey. It’s me.”

  Silence for a long moment, and Martin closed his eyes.

  Finally, a deep voice replied. “I’m listening.”

  He sounded calm, detached even. That was almost worse than the anger Martin had prepared to hear.

  “Yeah, I...” He stopped. “We fucked up.”

  “Yes. You did.”

  “Got a villain here who’s down a hand.”

  “What?”

  “It’s... look, shouldn’t talk about it over the phone. Usual place?”

  A deep sigh. “This is life or death, I take it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “All right. But in return, we’re going to talk, and I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

  Martin nodded, realized that Freeway couldn’t see him. “Sure.”

  Dial tone, and Martin let his hand drop. He stared at the phone for a few moments, before flipping it shut. “Going out,” he said over his shoulder. “Be back with the doctor soon.”

  Minna looked to him, and her eyes were filled with pain. “Be careful. Please.”

  Anya’s at stake if I fuck up.

  “Yeah,” he whispered back, and the things left unsaid lay between them.

  It was a short drive, with the hardsuit rattling in the back of the van where he’d left it. Couldn’t bring it in the hotel, even if the place was a run-down dive.

  Light traffic, this late at night. The chaos to the northwest hadn’t affected the residential area known as Cobbles Cove one bit, and the detours around the devastated streets were nowhere near his destination.

  The parking lot was empty when he pulled up to the simple brick church. Martin killed the motor and waited, cranking the window down to get some breeze in, kill some of the heat of the unseasonably warm night.

  He didn’t have long to wait. The passenger side door opened, and a white-garbed figure slid into the seat, pot-bellied and as dark as the night outside. White eyes considered him over a bushy mustache, and Martin nodded in greeting.

  “Hey man.”

  Freeway said nothing. Martin sighed, started the van up, and Freeway reached over, put a hand on the wheel. “Wait.”

  “What?” Lights flared behind them, and Martin tensed up as figures stepped out of the treeline. “What the fuck, man? We had a truce!”

  “We still do. Settle down.”

  Don’t have much choice. He could take me apart before I could try anything.

  Freeway wasn’t a huge threat to Dire. He was an enormous threat to anyone who wasn’t suited up in layered composite titanium-ceramic battle armor. He took down guys like Martin dozens at a time.

  The side door of the van opened, and a woman whistled. “Nice. Dire make this?”

  She’s talking about the hardsuit, Martin realized. “Yeah. And you are?”

  “You don’t remember me? Fuck, I’m hurt. Kingsley, Agent Kingsley. Maybe you remember Coleman?”

  “Yeah, okay, I remember Coleman. You were the quiet creepy one who shadowed him all the time.”

  “Ouch.” The small woman hopped inside, found her way to the remaining back seat of the van. A larger, male form pushed in after her, folded himself awkwardly on the seat as well. Martin studied them in the dim shading of the van’s dome light.

  Kingsley was short, with platinum-blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. Her black suit looked immaculately tailored and as smooth as if it had been laundered and ironed minutes ago. Her fine-featured face bore a cheeky grin that showed perfect teeth. She hid the upper half of her face behind a bulky pair of black sunglasses, and the shirt under her black suit jacket was white as snow.

  Coleman's frame stretched big and bulky, most of it looking like muscle. His dark red hair was short-cut but still somehow unruly, and his face bore a s
olemn grimace. His black suit had wear marks, looked like it had been through years of use without any real repair. The white shirt below showed yellow stains from sweat and grime, and he bore his own set of sunglasses.

  “Now you can drive,” Freeway told him.

  “And what’s gonna happen when I get back to the lair?” Martin asked.

  “Depends on what you say along the way.” Kingsley said, fishing around in the seat. “Dude, a quarter! Mind if I keep it?”

  “Be my guest.”

  “Thanks. You’re under arrest for bribery. Hands up.”

  Martin felt his jaw drop open, and he looked back to her, aghast. “The fuck?”

  “Hahahahahahhaha! Oh man, your face!” She flicked the quarter past his shoulder, and he ducked. It pinged off the windshield, disappeared between the seats.

  “This is what you wanted to talk about?”

  “No.” Coleman rumbled. “We wanted to talk about your boss going off the reservation.”

  “Twenty-eight thousand six hundred and two people.” Kingsley said, losing her smile. “Maybe you want to tell us where they are right now?”

  “Alive. Not hostages. I mean they weren’t. See, we needed them out of the way so Dire could take that whole chunk of Westmarket to bits.”

  Coleman leaned forward. “So you did what, precisely?”

  “I didn’t do shit. Dire teleported them out. Everyone in that area.”

  “Teleported them where?”

  “Nowhere. She never re-materialized them.”

  “I think that’s called disintegration and it’s not helping your case,” Kingsley piped up.

  “I liked you better when you were creepy and staring at everyone,” Martin told her, then shook his head. “No, see, she stored all of them in this computer thing. Like a winky thing with lights and shit. Plan was to re-materialize them after the wrecking was done. But shit happened.”

  “What kind of shit?” Coleman asked.

  “Timetripper.”

  Freeway sighed and buried his face in his hands. Kingsley and Coleman looked to each other and nodded. “Okay. You’ve said the one thing that might let you walk out of here. Drive out of here, anyway.”

  “You know Timetripper?”