Killing Capes
Page 13
“In Dalia’s case, we use it to dampen or deactivate her powers completely. It helps her manage her ability so she can stand the real world. She needs it to cut off the barrage of all the mental stimulation she’s surrounded by.” There was a deep sadness in her voice.
“It took a month to get the settings just right so that she was, well, Lia. During the initial tests, she wasn’t much more than a zombie following orders. I left her that way for weeks while I experimented so that she’d at least be able to rest if I told her to.”
She looked ready to break down completely, “I can replace the unit, but getting that balance right is going to take longer than I’m comfortable with.”
Dwight reached across the table and placed a hand on the doctor’s shoulder, “It’s okay, Doc. You’ll get it.” She looked up at him, the regret in her eyes pouring over in streams. “I know Lia would understand. You really care about her; she knows that.”
“Someone has to.” The doctor produced a small handkerchief from her coat pocket and attended to her face. When she recovered her composure, she turned back to Dwight, more concerned with the present needs of her other guest. “You appear to be in some shit, Mr. Knolls. Or would you like me to start calling you by your other name, ‘Mr. Referee?’”
Fuck. He hadn’t realized when he used that name that the fight was being broadcast. The entire city would be looking for him now. What he needed most was to get in touch with Wulf and explain Bernard’s betrayal. In all likeliness, he had seen the brawl and would be leading a hunting party of Associates.
“I’ll need supplies if I’m going to take care of this.” Dwight was expecting he would also need a miracle to survive both a trip across the city and a visit to Wulf’s office before the Powers caught him. He doubted a phone call would suffice. Dwight would need to get there as quickly as possible, before Wulf had time to think up some “fitting” punishment for him.
And then there was Bernard, formerly known as Goliath. With Ian still out, he would need some information on what his ex-partner was capable of in case he needed to be put down. At the moment, Dwight would be willing to do that job even without a briefcase – a fair trade for all the suffering Bernard had caused with his treacherous addition to Dwight’s workload.
Ellis pointed to the door closest to the recovery room, “That’s the storage closet. Anything in there is likely dangerous and untested. Your very charitable donation covers anything you want to borrow.”
He realized she was referring to the multiple million dollar bids she had received for the footage of Midas and his ex. While that film existed somewhere, the media would never be getting it from him. That had not, however, stopped Ellis from using her A.I. to initiate those held transfers and send them off to her private accounts.
The inside of the Doc’s storage room could have fulfilled any power-hungry dictator’s deepest fantasies. It was as large as the outer lab, but lined with row upon row of steel shelves filled with innumerable abandoned weapons and gear. Everything from obvious guns and multipurpose tools to unidentifiable gadgets in their resting places as if this was the planet’s largest hyper-tech superstore. Dwight doubted Ellis even knew what half of the inventions did anymore; if she did, with the right motivation, she could probably conquer the city by herself.
She passed him a black duffel bag, “Take what you like, but be careful. You already ignored my pleas about getting back to work so soon. I can’t stop you, but try not to get yourself killed out there.”
As he did his shopping, Dwight ran over the list of the Capes most likely to be looking for him. Linda’s current team was the first to mind: Ar-Marie, the power-suited teen genius, would definitely be on the hunt; she had been trying to prove her skills and loyalty to Midas since she had joined the junior league. There were the twins, Jolt and Volt – electricity-based strikers. If he could dodge their initial attacks, the two were notoriously fragile. The Guild had dozens of Capes waiting in reserve; that didn’t even include the retirees, exiles, and recruits who would all be out looking for the Referee.
And then there was Wulf. Even if Dwight planned to head straight there, he wasn’t going to be able to simply walk into StarPoint. There would be an army of Associates blocking his path, including Rampage.
He thought of Celene, his handler. She could have warned him of Bernard’s lie if he had thought to check in; Dwight had gotten sloppy. He needed to fix this, and then reconsider his methods if he was going to have a future in this business.
While considering his options, he remembered the phone in his pocket. He had turned it off before their broadcast. With all the chaos, he hadn’t even thought to turn it back on. As he activated it, a flurry of missed messages filled the screen; it seemed his performance had made an impact among the city’s Powers. The three longest were from Linda. There were also two from Ellis; he held out the phone for her to see.
“I was trying to warn you that the feed was still going after Midas arrived,” she shrugged, “How was I supposed to know you practiced proper etiquette and turned your damned phone off when on camera?”
“And the second one?” he pointed to the file.
“That one was instructions to bring Dalia here when you finished dealing with Bernard’s ego contest. I believe there are also some parts about what I’d do to you if she didn’t make it.” She slipped her hands into the pockets of her coat. “You should probably just delete that one.”
He complied; the Doc’s threats tended to be oddly specific and always graphic. Dwight followed the list down, deleting most of the messages from long-forgotten contacts he had made in the course of his work. Finally reaching the earliest received calls, he found the name he feared: Wulf. It was a single call with a short voicemail attached to it. He tapped play, somehow afraid that the man’s voice would find a way to harm him through the tiny speakers.
The message started. At first, there was just slow breathing. After a few tense seconds, he began, “Mr. Knolls, we need to talk about your newfound entrepreneurship. I’ll be sending some Associates to retrieve you. I do apologize if they’re a little…rough.”
Wulf hung up abruptly. It was as bad as Dwight anticipated. The calm, curt tone of Wulf’s voice conveyed his outrage; it was the intonation he usually held for the moment before he had someone killed – or worse, did the job himself.
Dwight put the phone away and looked up at the Doc, who gave him a skeptical look. “I’m going to need some serious hardware if I’m going to make it to him.”
“You could just leave. He can’t hurt you if you’re nowhere to be found.” Even as she suggested it, he knew that wasn’t going to work. Wulf had eyes and ears everywhere. The Referee’s bounty would be enough to bring all of the big names out for his head if he ran.
He continued searching through the racks for things he could use. Most required power sources he wouldn’t be able to carry. The few pieces that he could identify as useful, he tossed in the bag. The Doc grabbed a few more as they went from shelf to shelf, explaining their purpose before stuffing them in. She picked up a short glass jar with a screw-top lid. “This is electrically-charged putty I developed for corporate espionage. Just a gob of the stuff will fry anything you put it on.”
Dwight nodded, thinking of more uses than opening doors. “You making spy gear now, too?”
She stood with pride, placing her hands on her hips. “Mr. Knolls, I am a professional. If the client wants to pretend they’re in the intellectual sabotage game, who am I to question?”
As they reached the end of the shelves, she fished in her pocket for one last thing. She held out the mystery object in her closed fist, waiting for Dwight to reach for it. As he did, she let go, and a set of keys fell into his open palm. He examined them, their grinning skull keychain looking back at him.
“You’ll need something fast. Take care of my baby, Dwight. She’s getting old, and you can’t afford to replace her, even if you wanted to.” She led the way to the garage he had never seen.
“Never thought of you as a mechanic, Doc. Seems a little too…normal for you.” He was surprised. Ellis could design a doomsday weapon on her lunch break. She played with forces that could destroy continents, but he assumed that the simplicity of automotive repair was somehow beneath her.
She led him on through the minefield of clanging metal. Each step, regardless of how careful they were, disturbed something. Finally, they arrived at the back of the shop. Under a single hanging light, a motorcycle sat alone.
“This is Jezebel.” The bike was immaculately detailed; its blue flame decals embossed the beautiful gray exterior. Its engine, highly modified, appeared to be lined with coiled glass.
Thinking back, he had never seen Ellis outside of her lab. Somehow, it made sense that this machine was her personal ride; he could picture her taking this to the store for groceries and other mundane tasks. Anything else would have felt wrong, un-Ellis-like. “Doc, I think I’m in love.”
She chuckled, “Despite her name, she’s all mine. I’m trusting she’ll be coming back.” He was happy to see her humor return. Her concern over Lia had taken away all of the woman’s usual zeal.
Dwight had a seat and instantly felt the weight of the modified motorcycle. He had ridden several bikes during his service years, and a few more in his twenties, but it had been some time – and nothing like this. As he turned the ignition and cranked the throttle, the coils roared to life. The surge of arcing electricity powering the bike whined with barely restrained power.
Ellis strapped the duffel bag to the back of the seat and headed for the sealed outer door. Pressing an eye against the scanner, the door slowly rose. Even before it finished its ascent, Dwight twisted the throttle and the bike launched through the passage.
Ahead, he could see the shaft he was racing down quickly coming to an end in a solid wall. He was about to swerve to avoid the fatal collision when the wall parted smoothly down the center. Clearing the hidden exit, he looked back. The Doc’s garage was concealed in a false dumpster against a wall a few buildings away from her warehouse. The entire contraption slid back into place within seconds of his departure. He wondered how many more secrets Ellis had built into her lair, and if the scientist had any limits other than her attention span.
Thirteen
Dwight raced through the night streets toward the city center. His eyes focused briefly on the sidewalks along his route, noting a distinct lack of people. The clear sky and crisp autumn air should have filled downtown with throngs of tourists; had Midas’s defeat been that much of a shock to the city’s sense of security? The cars he darted between were sparse. Streetlight after streetlight flew past the overcharged motorcycle and its rider.
He was nearly halfway there when a set of five streaks overhead drew his attention. Dwight hoped they would ignore him. The sudden tugging at his clothing told him otherwise. Glancing up, he could see the familiar blue uniform and dark, fluttering hair of his ex. She had him by the back of his jacket. His entire body began to rise. Linda’s superhuman strength lifted him into the air.
Thinking quickly, Dwight unzipped his coat and let it slide off. She had him a foot above the still-speeding bike, its velocity matching their own. He dropped onto the seat, but it was too difficult for him to regain control. The machine tilted to the left. Dwight desperately tried to correct the angle, pitching the bike to the right. The motorcycle came crashing down on its side.
Dwight tumbled with it, struggling to protect himself. They both skidded painfully along the pavement. He released his hold on the motorcycle and pushed himself away. Sparks flew over him as the bike continued a hundred feet before coming to a stop against a parked sedan.
He lay still for a few moments, trying to catch his breath. When he rose in the middle of the deserted street, he was amazed to find himself relatively unharmed from the crash. He was sore and covered in scrapes, but nothing felt broken.
He prepared to continue his mad dash to StarPoint, but was interrupted. Linda and four other Capes descended around him. As predicted, Ar-Marie and the twins were with her, but there was another: a man dressed in violet robes. He looked more like a stage performer than a proper Power.
Dwight sighed in frustration. He guessed that the robed Cape was magically gifted. He could never get the hang of arcane types; their abilities were just too weird. A superhuman could be categorized – their powers could be measured and anticipated. Magic was completely random. A mage’s abilities were as flexible as the mind behind them.
They formed a semi-circle around him and the fallen motorcycle, which began smoking in protest of its mistreatment.
Linda pursued him as he limped toward the bike, “Referee, you’re under arrest for vigilantism and murder.” She was playing the authority card first; he could work with that.
Dwight pulled the key from the dying machine, cutting its power before any more damage could be done to it. “Hi, Linda. Nice to see you, too,” He sat down on the smoking remains of the bike, “How’s Molly doing?”
The look of frustrated amazement on her face was worth the destruction of the Doc’s prized ride. It took her a second to recover, “This is hardly the place for that conversation. I’m taking you in, Dwight. You’re in a lot of trouble.”
He laughed, “Tell me about it; I have an important meeting at StarPoint, and you just wrecked my ride.” A small flame ignited from the machine’s augmented engine. He tapped it out with his metallic hand. “This belonged to Ellis, you know? She’s going to have to bill the Guild for it.” He pulled the duffel bag from its mount and began searching through its contents. Though some of the tools had been reduced to pieces by the crash, most seemed intact.
Linda wasn’t as amused, “There’s not going to be any meeting. You’re coming with us.” She stepped in to subdue her ex, and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
He looked to the arm, then directly into her eyes, “I am so sorry about this,” he said, engaging the electrified plates of his prosthetic.
He meant that. Hurting Linda had been a hard stopping point in his initial negotiations with Wulf; no matter the circumstances, her name would never appear in a briefcase. At least Lock Heart was known for being resilient.
His uppercut landed solidly to the center of her abdomen. The plates released their charge, bringing her down. It might have been the surprise of being attacked by Dwight, but she fell to her knees, disabled for a moment while her electrified muscles recovered. He turned to run as she dropped. Leaping over the bike’s wreck, he didn’t look back to see if Linda had been incapacitated by his surprise attack; against anyone else, he’d have checked to see if he’d finished the job. The rest of Linda’s team was immediately after him. They fanned out, trying to cut him off.
As he broke for a nearby alley, Dwight mapped out the path ahead. His internal map of the city was adequate; he could remember all the major roadways and where the subway entrances were. If he could make it to Xavier Street, he could duck into the entrance there and take the black line all the way to StarPoint – it was a fairly big “if.” There were three blocks between him and the station, and four pissed off Capes in chase. At any rate, he knew deep down that Wulf would probably have him executed upon his arrival.
Dwight exited the narrow passageway into the first road as a stream of short-ranged missiles flew over his head and detonated before him. The demonstration was a warning shot. From the size of the blasts, they were concussive rounds; they’d hurt like hell, but wouldn’t kill him. At least they were trying to take him in alive. That was something.
Ar-Marie’s bright pink, four-armed power armor settled into a holding pattern just above him. The heat from her jets was unbearable from this distance. She flipped on a set of searchlights built i
nto the suit’s shoulders. Dwight raised a hand to shield his eyes from the intense brightness.
“Come on, Referee; make this easy.” She swooped down before he could react, lifting him off the ground by the waist. With her set of free arms, she retrieved a set of sophisticated handcuffs from a holster built into the back of the suit.
He struggled against her, tried to wrestle his way free, but the suit’s hydraulics were too strong. Before the Cape could slip on the restraints, Dwight dug a random object from his bag and held it in front of them both. They each stopped to study the device. It was a small, shiny plate about three inches thick with a single button and the instructions, “AIM AT ENEMY,” printed in block letters. There was also a sticker of a cartoon frowny face holding the sides of its head: the Doc’s way of remembering what the object actually did. Dwight mouthed a silent stream of profanity, praying that it wouldn’t explode.
Instantly, the loudest noise Dwight had ever experienced echoed through the night, shattering windows and setting off car alarms for hundreds of feet around. Even the teen genius’s compensators weren’t prepared for the level of discord created by the tiny machine. Ar-Marie, stunned by the sheer volume of the sound, stopped her attempt to apply the handcuffs. Out of reflex, she held her free arms to the sides of her head.
With his own metallic limb, Dwight struck the faceplate of his captor’s suit. The blast from the knuckles’ electricity disrupted its systems and allowed him to squirm out of the extra arms. Dwight dropped to the road and landed hard on his back. The sonic reverberator bounced off the asphalt nearby. It burned out shortly after Dwight righted himself and scrambled to his feet.
Despite being on the correct side of the weapon, Dwight still felt its effects. Without any ear protection, his balance was askew as he took off running again into the next alleyway. The suited Cape hung in the air behind him. Ar-Marie may have been saved from the majority of the device’s uproar by her suit’s safeties, but she still needed a few precious seconds to recover.