Akiyama snorted in derision. Anders glared at her briefly, but answered anyway. “Hardly. She's no more of a threat than Lily. I doubt she'd be very helpful either, but still.”
“That's all we need,” Kelly said. “I understand if you want to keep secrets. As long as it doesn't interfere with anything else, I don't really care. Take a right here, it's faster.”
Jarasax followed her suggestion with a frown. “I thought we were taking them to their dorm?”
“The lab is closer. Besides, it has better equipment.”
He nodded. “Not to mention it's on the way to our next errand.”
Kelly almost asked him what he meant until she realized it was a bluff for the benefit of the Paladins. They both knew they needed to keep direct contact to a minimum. This way, they could drop them at the lab, peel off, and park a good distance away.
They weren't hiding from the Paladins, not really. It was just the fewer people who knew that they were always just around the corner, the better. Maybe the Composer would think he could easily assassinate them or something, and they'd be able to catch him.
“Wait, errand?” George asked. “I don't remember anything about that.”
Kelly sighed. Moron. Well, he was a good fighter and made a mean chupaqueso, so she guessed she could forgive a few mistakes here and there.
“We have to report to Butler for an assignment. I'll brief you later.”
“Just get us there,” Anders said. Kelly turned to see him staring at her with those same dispassionate eyes as before. “After that, whatever happens is your business.”
Ah. Perhaps he had some understanding of guile after all.
Chapter 26: FUROR
ODIN
Odin had a long list of titles to go with that name. References to myths and past campaigns. He rarely thought about them, because he didn't feel that he deserved them. He took the name Odin because he led the Aesir, and because it was expected of him. Not because he wanted it.
He was Norwegian. Most Aesir were, actually, or at least one of the Nordic races. He was one of the many immigrants from those countries who got caught in the political crossfire in one of America's stupid wars, and jumped at the chance to go to Domina when the city was being built. Many of his friends and family came with him, but few of them had any real skills. They ended up as more unskilled labor, laying the foundation of the city on the trash island. Life was hard, but they survived.
Then, fifteen years later, Clarke invented the toy maker. It was a miracle, in a thousand ways and more, but the first thing Odin became interested in was the Bigger package, a set of buffs that increased size and strength over about six months. He was one of the first to try it.
It worked beautifully. He went from a short and compact man to a tall Adonis, able to lift cars and push buses. With effort, true, but this was not a comic book. Super strength was impossible, enhanced strength more than enough.
That proved useful at his construction job, to be sure, and many of his coworkers bought the package as well. A lot of them were his Nordic friends and family, but others were other races. These were in the days before skin cosmos came out, when race still meant something. The Norwegians and Icelanders and Greenlanders were having enough trouble getting along. Throwing Mexicans and Brazilians into that mix would have been lighting a powder keg.
So, he formed a gang. It wasn't really a gang, at first. Just a small group to keep his friends out of trouble. Sure, it grew quickly, until they had almost a hundred members, but he still thought that was barely a gang.
It wasn't until the vampires started attacking them that they really started viewing themselves as a group. Odin didn't know which subculture it was. Again, that was the early days, so these were just kids with black eyes and bad attitudes. It was easy to assume they were all Nessians or daevas, but reality rarely put all the good guys and bad guys in clear groups.
In the end, it didn't matter. Strong or not, most of Odin's gang weren't fighters, and with their clumsy new bodies, we couldn't defend themselves.
So they learned.
They bought guns, learned how to use them. The more patient of them learned martial arts, while the rest just fought each other for practice. They killed the vampires when they came. They came back with more guns, killed some of the gang. A vicious cycle with no end in sight.
Then Butler walked into their HQ one day.
Everyone had taken to calling it Asgard, but it wasn't really a big deal. Just another 'scraper, originally intended to be a hotel. The plan got scrapped when they were about ninety percent done—everything except the carpets, pretty much. There wasn't really much demand for high-class hotels in Domina City.
Odin managed to buy it off the owner for about a hundredth of what it was worth, and converted it into their lair. It wasn't much, but it was their, and it was home. Fortified the first few floors, put water in the pools, and it was a place worth living. The vampires came pretty often, but they repulsed them.
Then Butler walked into their HQ one day.
They had heard of him, of course. Even before the toy maker, people were already beginning to whisper about Artemis Butler. No one knew what he had done to get sent to prison in the first place, but he wasn't someone you wanted to screw with. They said he killed anyone who stood in his way, that his gang was supplied by the military, and that he was dying of an incurable disease, but held himself together with sheer will.
That was before the toy maker. After that, the rumors got stranger.
Odin had always assumed the rumors to be propaganda spread by the 'sarians themselves. He had met Butler once, on the boat over to the island, and it seemed like something he would do. Simple. Effective. Small risk of danger. Odin didn't want to cross him, but he figured if he started a fight, they could finish it.
But he walked through their fortifications like they weren't even there. Walked into the elevator, up to Odin's penthouse, and stood before him, leaning heavily on his cane, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.
Odin looked at the cameras, and it seemed like he had brought his entire gang with him. It was bigger than he had thought. Every single giant in the building had three guns in his face, and there were enough 'sarians left to guard the entrances. That was nearly a thousand of the bastards. At the time, Odin thought that was all of them, but in hindsight it was unlikely. Butler never showed all his cards at once.
No shots had been fired. Not a one. The giants had been caught completely unaware.
Butler hadn't brought a single man with him to Odin's penthouse. Between Odin, his wife, their son, and their half-dozen bodyguards, they had twelve guns and nearly three thousand pounds of muscle to fight with. Butler was big and muscular, but he was baseline, and they were giants. Any one of them could have killed him with one hand. One finger.
But they didn't.
He stared them all down without even the slightest trace of fear. He wasn't smug. Smug implied that they're arrogant, lording their successes over you. Butler was not smug.
“My name is Artemis Butler,” he said, as if any of them didn't know. “I have come to make a deal.”
Odin remembered, even years later, swallowing a lump in his throat that felt like an apple. “What deal?”
“Don't cause trouble,” he said, looking Odin right in the eye. “Don't start protection rackets. Don't extort money or blackmail or murder. Don't start wars.”
Odin ground his teeth. “The vampires—”
“Will be dealt with,” Butler interrupted, “in short order. And if they attack you, you may of course defend yourselves. You may even retaliate.” He fixed Odin with those crimson eyes. “If civilians get caught in the crossfire, however, there will be... problems.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then you will become my enemy.”
His eyes, his pale red eyes, made his intention perfectly clear. You did not want to become an enemy of Artemis Butler.
So Odin nodded, once.
“Good,
” Butler said, smiling. “I will have a more detailed list of laws sent to you shortly.”
“Laws?” Odin's wife virtually screeched. “You have laws for us?”
Butler raised an eyebrow. “Of course, Lady Frigga. A set of written laws is the best for everyone.” He smiled. “Unless you would rather simply be subject to my whim? I can be quite fickle.”
Everyone in the room knew that was a lie. There was nothing more to be said after that, so he simply left. Let himself out as if he owned the place, and took every single one of his soldiers with him.
So when you take all that into account, Odin thought, when it came right down to it, it was obvious that he was trying to commit suicide.
That was the only logical explanation he could come up with for my actions fifteen years later, a day after some of his best Thors were killed in that disastrous screamer attack at Bombed Alley. He was old, and tired, and wanted to die. His wife would be a good Colossus for a time, and when she stepped down, their son would have his turn.
Odin burst into NHQ, throwing 'sarians left and right, roaring his anger and shouting Butler's name, daring Butler to face him. He called him names, disparaging and unimaginative things like “
“redeye” and “paleface.” Hardly his best moment, by any account. He expected to get a bullet to the brain any minute.
Instead, Butler came out.
He walked forward calm as you please, as though he was still in complete control of the situation. Which he was, of course. Odin had no power he didn't wish for him to have.
“Senator Odin,” he called warmly, once he was within ten feet. He had to look up to meet Odin's eyes, but as usual, he somehow managed to intimidate him. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
“Don't try to charm your way out of this one, Artemis,” Odin growled. “I lost over a hundred of my men at that ridiculous attack of yours.”
“As did the hellions,” he said. “The Composer revealed a weapon we did not anticipate, and we suffered for it. We are taking precautions now, but we can't change the past.”
Odin stalked forward, ignoring the guns trained on him. “Yes, I read your little newsletter. But the cultures are in turmoil. You can't expect us to stand for this.”
Butler sighed, very deeply, and for the first time in a long time Odin remembered that this was a man with enough incurable diseases that he should have died when he was ten years old. Not only had he survived, but he had taken the weight of an entire city on his shoulders.
“I need your help with this, old friend,” he whispered. “This fighting—it's exactly what the Composer wants.”
Odin sniffed, a little chastised, but determined to plow on. Or maybe determined to get himself killed. “Open war still hasn't broken out, and it probably won't. Everyone is mistrustful, but they're not stupid. They're just falling back and fortifying their domains.”
Butler shook his head. “Fortifying against a creature that can turn a thousand people into mindless zombies over the radio—and everyone is putting themselves in nice, compact boxes. Perfect for what the Composer has in mind.”
Odin raised an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”
Butler shrugged. “Who knows? That's my point. Falling back gives the enemy too many options, and takes away too many of ours. We need to integrate, not segregate.”
Odin growled. “If you want us to deal with the hellions again—”
“Right now, I just want you to keep your men in check. Keep them from getting too violent. Once we find a way to identify these sleeper agents, everything will fall into place.”
He was being reasonable. He was always reasonable.
Odin sighed. “Fine. Butler, you win again. I'll hold back my men. And I'll shout down that vote of no-confidence some of the politicians are trying to push through.” He turned to go. “It's the least I can do.”
A pity. Death had sounded restful.
Chapter 27: AUXILIUS NECESSARIUM
LAURA
Laura slathered some more healing paste on the hamburger that used to be Derek's chest. She was surprised they had even managed to get him back to lab in that state. Ah, there was some premature healing, probably from a stimpack or two. That explained it. Still, she frowned at their story. “She shot three gargants?”
Derek nodded, though it clearly pained him. “With darts loaded with that calciophage stuff you and Clarke cooked up, yes.”
Laura rolled her eyes. “That stupid... I didn't have anything to do with that. It's a horrible invention. Too dangerous to use effectively. Akane, hand me that gauze, would you? Thanks.”
“It seemed to work against the gargants,” Adam pointed out.
Laura snorted. “And if you had been dealing with iron-heart gargants, they wouldn't have even noticed. But that's not what I mean. It gets into the air, then into your lungs, and kills everyone in the area.”
Adam blanched and covered his mouth. Akane giggled, and even Derek managed to crack a smile.
“Ah... but you don't have to worry,” Laura said. “You'd be dead by now if you had gotten any in you.”
He lowered his hand sheepishly. “Of... course.” He looked around, desperately looking for a way to change the subject. “Where's that red girl? Robyn, right?”
“She left a while ago,” Laura said, as she added a few more bandages to Derek. “Said she felt useless.” She heard the click of heels. “Speaking of useless...”
Lizzy walked into the room.
She was wearing black. Lots of black. Black heels with straps that went up to her knees, black shorts that reached down to the straps, and a marvelous black corset, with a dark shawl wrapped around it all.
Laura practically had to use her full weight to keep Derek on the table. She didn't know what the idiot was planning to do—hug her, probably—but he was hardly in any shape to do it.
“Hello,” Laura said. “Didn't you say you were bringing Ling with you?”
Lizzy cocked her head in confusion, before nodding. “Ah, right. Yes, but she wanted to spend time with her ave friend. Make sure he's doing all right, I suppose.”
“Fair enough,” Laura said. I didn't know what else to say, so an awkward silence fell as her hands worked.
After a very long few minutes, she finished bandaging Derek, and she had no good reason to remain silent. She made sure to fix Lizzy with a steely gaze first, though. She might not have been as intimidating as Derek, but it wasn't something you wanted to be on the receiving end of. “Did you rescue these three morons from gargants earlier?”
She blinked, her jaw working silently for a moment before speaking. “You... know about that?”
Laura frowned. “Where'd you get the calciophage, Lizzy?”
She shrugged a little helplessly. “Well, you know... Clarke is not always good at keeping track of things...”
Laura sighed. That idiot. He had to be doing it on purpose. No one could be that stupid. “Of course. But that stuff is dangerous. Don't use it again.”
This could mean serious trouble, and not just because of the calciophage. Lizzy was not a killer, not a fighter, and not even an athlete. If she tried to get in the middle of this mess with the Composer, she would be destroyed, in more ways than one. They needed to make sure nothing came of this. Laura made a mental note to speak to the others about it once Lizzy left the room.
Before the uncomfortable silence could fall again, Adam spoke. “Well, I for one am thankful for the rescue.”
“Yeah,” Akane agreed. “Dōmo arigatōgozaimashita.”
Derek couldn't say much since she had bandaged him a little too tight, but he grunted in agreement.
Lizzy just smiled with those perfect teeth of hers, her golden eyes glittering. “This... is too much. You have nothing to thank me for.”
Chapter 28: PROPSITI
The COMPOSER
Stupid directors. Stupid, stupid.
They had met that idiotic flying girl. The Composer knew that for a fact. And they just let her run away, w
ithout so much as “You know, a flier would really help us out.” Stupid, stupid directors. Also, couldn't she have shot Anders with the calciophage in the process? Would have made life easier.
“Lakerine,” the Composer spat, ripping out the intestines of some stupid ghoul who had tried an ambush in an alley. “What's going on outside?”
A voice sounded inside the Composer's skull.
The Composer's teeth were ground hard enough for a few of them to crack. “Because right now it's boring. No one's doing anything interesting. The cultures have fortified. I could turn them, but no, that would be genocide. You crazy little...”
The Composer snorted in derision. Right, the work. Well, it didn't really matter whose idea it was, the plan was being followed regardless.
“Of course not,” the Composer muttered. The ghoul's spine was ripped out. “He's a gutless bastard.”
Lakerine didn't bother to acknowledge the pun.
The Composer frowned. “Isn't the Charon base just five guys in a lab?”
The Composer sighed. Who cared if a bunch of stuffy scientists found some stupid meteorite? But it was important to Lakerine and the others, so there was no need to say anything.
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