Constance Verity Saves the World

by A. Lee Martinez

  She could really use a break, but the vent was a straight drop. She braced herself against the walls and lowered herself one step at a time. Blood smeared the walls, and she could smell it under her nose where she’d wiped her cut hands.

  This wasn’t going well.

  It had been years since she’d had this much trouble infiltrating a secret base, but she wouldn’t read too much into it. She would take one step at a time. She’d find Byron. They’d get the hell out of there.

  She reached the bottom of the shaft after many long minutes, and in the darkened junction, she took a moment to wrap her bloodied palms and rest. She focused on ancient biomanipulation techniques, numbing the pain in her hand. They’d be less reliable that way, but the distraction wasn’t doing her much good.

  Connie thought about giving up. Lady Peril had gone to all the trouble of luring her there. The mastermind would be waiting for her. The smart thing might be to simply defuse the situation and walk up to the front door, offering herself in exchange for Byron. At the very least, it’d be an unexpected tactic.

  It’d always end up in the same place. Connie in some impossible situation. Lady Peril gloating about Connie’s inevitable defeat. Then at the last minute, Connie would figure something out, like she always did. Peril would die in some way that made it impossible to confirm she was really dead. Connie and Byron would flee an exploding secret base. It was all so mundane at this point.

  It was what happened after that troubled Connie. Byron would go his way. She’d go hers. Whatever came then, she didn’t know. If the caretaker spell disappeared and she became normal, could they make it work then? Did she even care?

  Yeah, she cared.

  But did he?

  And why the hell was she thinking about that when she might be dead in another hour?

  She pushed away complicated thoughts and continued her infiltration. She found an outlet in an unoccupied laundry room and kicked out the grate, dropping among dozens of hanging jumpsuits. She rifled through them.

  None were her size. None of them were even close to her size.

  She resorted to the bins of dirty, wrinkled suits. One of them had to fit. One always did. She didn’t think about all the things she took for granted. The universe didn’t guarantee her success, but it did cut her a break now and then. Those breaks were coming less and less, but they only needed to hold out for another few hours. Long enough to get this rescue done.

  She found a wrinkled suit with a sizeable mustard stain that smelled vaguely of old tuna, but it was her size, so it would have to do. Connie was sticking her leg in when the door opened and two henchagents entered.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” asked one.

  Connie turned her face down. “Sorry, I tore my old uniform, so I had to grab something.”

  “All uniform replacement is done through requisitions,” said the second henchagent. “You should know that.”

  “Yes, but I just thought it’d be easier to pick one up myself. It’s no big deal.”

  “What’s your designation? I’m afraid we’re going to have to report this to your supervisor.” A henchagent clasped his hand on her shoulder and turned her toward him. His eyes went wide. “I know you.”

  Connie punched him in the gut. He doubled over, and she kneed him in the face. She was already planning the series of moves to take out the second henchagent, who would certainly do the dumb thing and try to subdue her.

  He turned and ran.

  “Damn it.” Connie jumped over her prone opponent and tackled the runner. He screamed and flailed like a frightened child, throwing a few clumsy punches until she incapacitated him with a nerve strike.

  The first goon grabbed her from behind in a headlock and pulled her off her feet. He tightened the hold, and the world darkened as she threatened to black out.

  She managed to swivel her legs under her and then behind his ankles. She pushed him back. He fell to the floor, scrambling to his feet. She kicked him in the head again, and while he lay there, his face a broken mess, she used ancient secrets of acupressure to render him immobile.

  Connie sat beside him and closed her eyes. Two nameless goons. This should’ve been easy. She expected more henchagents to enter, but the cruel universe allowed her a few more moments undisturbed.

  She dragged the henchagents behind some laundry baskets, where they might stay hidden for a while. She rolled them onto their backs and measured the bloodied one.

  “Hey, what size are you?”

  He gurgled very, very lightly.

  “Eh, close enough,” she said as she unzipped his uniform.

  Three minutes later, she was walking the halls in her borrowed uniform and helmet. The jumpsuit was a little baggy. Its sleeves were an inch too long, but she tucked them into the gloves. Her collar had some blood splatter. She found a skull helmet and put it on. It wasn’t quite fitted to her head, cutting off the bottom of her vision, but it hid her face. There wasn’t anything she could do about that. If she walked with purpose, people would assume she was doing something important.

  She had around an hour before the laundry room henchagents were able to move again, assuming they weren’t discovered before that. Depending on protocol, the base could go on lockdown with sirens and security deployed. That would work to her advantage. It was easier to sneak around in a chaotic situation.

  It’d be trickier if breach protocol was silent. She could be being hunted right now and not be aware of it. She kept her head down and an eye out and didn’t think about it.

  Most secret bases were easy to navigate with clear signage, and Siege Perilous bases, due to Lady Peril’s fastidious nature, were especially so. Connie slipped into security and found an empty station, where she cycled through video feeds until she found Byron sitting alone in a room with a giant chained mutant. She noted the location scrawled on the lower part of the monitor.

  “What are you doing?” asked a henchagent in a brown jumpsuit. “You aren’t authorized to operate that equipment.”

  “Maintenance.” She tapped her yellow suit, having figured out the departmental colors on the walk. “Someone reported a malfunctioning system.”

  He walked past her to check the console. “It doesn’t look broken.”

  “Loose wire,” she said as she moved behind him. “I fixed it.”

  “Yes.” His tone said he was already suspicious.

  She poked him in a pressure point then caught him as he collapsed in her arms. She dropped him in the chair. A glance around the room confirmed that none of the personnel had noticed the moment of struggle. Or they had and were smart enough not to give Connie any warning.

  She left the paralyzed henchagent behind. Another loose end to be discovered. She’d assumed all her success was due to skill and grit, not pure luck. Actually, she’d never assumed much of anything. She’d been too busy saving the world to think much about it either way. But now she could really use some luck, and it was the one thing she couldn’t rely on anymore.

  Connie had always lived on borrowed time. Even after losing some of the caretaker mantle, she still knew there were obligations out there she couldn’t escape. And there was that glorious-death clause, a useless prophecy when her life involved regular brushes with adventure.

  She’d never been enamored of the idea of destiny, but it was a comfort to think that her death would be something spectacular. Now she only wanted to live long enough to get Byron out of there. After saving the day, the world, the universe, on a regular basis, it all came down to that one thing. If afterward she tripped on some stairs and broke her neck, she’d be fine with it. Just so long as she got Byron out of there.

  • • •

  Lady Peril had the mutant almost kill Byron once every hour for the next four hours. By the third time, the monster was starting to look more disappointed than Byron. When the fifth time rolled around, the creature didn’t bother moving as the chain unwound around its feet. It waited for a minute, pawing the chain with skepticism. When
it became clear there was more than enough to give it run of the chamber, it stood and eyed Byron, licking its lips.

  Outside the door, Byron heard something thud, followed by something else. A dull pop. Another one. Gunshots, perhaps.

  The door remained closed.

  The mutant loped forward. Saliva dripped from its maw. Its claws clicked against the floor.

  Another bang. A gunshot. Definitely a gunshot.

  It had to be Connie. She was there to save him. She’d made it. Just in time. That was what she did. But the door still hadn’t opened as the mutant prepared to pounce.

  He thought about the whims of fate, the little moments that could change everything. He thought about Lady Peril’s magic circle and how the rules had changed. Connie wasn’t going to make it on time. Connie had been shot on the other side of that door and was bleeding to death on the other side of that wall. This was how they died.

  The door opened, and Connie stood there. He knew it was her, even though she was wearing a henchagent’s jumpsuit and a face-obscuring helmet. She was alive, but too late. She dashed forward as the mutant pounced. Byron screamed, covered his face with his arms. It wasn’t a dignified way to die, but there wasn’t a dignified way to be torn to shreds by a freak of science gone wrong.

  He didn’t die.

  He opened his eyes.

  Constance stood before the mutant.

  The mutant mewed curiously.

  Connie stared deep into its eyes, holding one hand out. The mutant’s whiskers twitched, and she placed her hand on its nose. It slumped with a purr and rolled over on its back.

  “I don’t believe it,” said Byron. “I mean, I believe it, but I don’t.”

  She rubbed the mutant’s chin. Its tail wagged as it rolled on its back. “Just combined two techniques, one I learned from a Cossack tiger tamer, the other an Atlantean shark charmer. Aren’t you a sweetie?”

  The mutant squeaked contentedly.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  He took in her wrinkled, ill-fitting jumpsuit, the blood on her collar, the blood from her cut hands staining her gloves.

  He asked, “Are you?”

  “I’m fine,” said Connie.

  The mutant grumbled, and she scratched its neck.

  “I’ve got everything under control.”

  “I didn’t ask if you had everything in control,” said Byron. “I asked about you.”

  She stopped petting the monster. It rolled over on its belly and snorted.

  “Are we really going to fight about this now? Can’t we at least wait until we’ve escaped?”

  “Sure.”

  The mutant growled at Byron, but she smacked it lightly on the nose. It lowered its head submissively.

  “This isn’t the right place to have this conversation,”

  She caught it then. God help Byron and Tia and everyone else, but she was using adventure to avoid talking. It was so obvious in that moment. And this wasn’t the right time to have this talk. It was undisputably the worst place to have this talk. But though that was true now, it wasn’t always. And she’d do the same thing under different circumstances.

  “I’m not great,” she said.

  It was so freeing to admit. The world didn’t explode with her admission of vulnerability, but it hadn’t ever been about the world. It’d been about convincing everyone, especially herself, that she had everything in hand. Amid all the craziness, she was still in charge and as long as she kept her head, everything would work out.

  “Byron, I’m sorry that—”

  “I don’t get it,” said Byron. “Why isn’t Lady Peril saying anything? She was watching before.”

  “We can worry about that later,” said Connie. “We have to get you out of here.”

  They left the mutant behind, but on the other side of the door, two dozen guards surrounded them. The guards parted, and Lady Peril and Apollonia stepped forward.

  “So good of you to join us, Constance.”

  30

  Connie couldn’t decide if this was more bad luck or merely the expected moment when the villain captured her before her inevitable daring escape. She stepped in front of Byron.

  “You have me now. Why don’t you let him go?”

  Peril put a finger to her lips. “Oh, but I’ve grown rather fond of him. Also, his continued presence should dissuade you from trying anything clever.”

  Connie appraised the situation. Dozens of guards, all with their rifles at the ready. Lady Peril and Apollonia, both dangerous combatants on their own. Her luck running out, if not already completely gone. And Byron.

  “Okay, so you’ve got me. What I don’t get is why you went to such lengths to get me. You’ve never been sadistic, Peril. If you wanted me dead, why not just kill me?”

  “Oh, Constance, I could’ve killed you ages ago. And believe me, I was tempted over the years, but . . . well, it’s a bit of a cliché to spell out my plans, isn’t it? How many times have we been here? You, at my mercy. Myself, confident in my inevitable triumph but eager to explain everything so that you might appreciate my genius.”

  “You know you want to,” said Connie.

  Lady Peril smiled. It barely qualified with an upward turn of the right corner of her mouth. That scared the hell out of Connie. It meant things were worse than she thought.

  “Oh, I suppose it can’t hurt to explain a few things—” said Peril.

  Apollonia cleared her throat.

  “But I went to so much trouble,” said Peril. “Seems a shame that Constance should die not knowing how expertly she’s been manipulated.”

  “You instructed me to warn you against doing this,” said Apollonia.

  “I won’t tell her everything. Certainly not enough to foil my scheme this time.”

  “That’s what you said you would say.”

  Peril’s smile faded, and her disinterested expression returned. “Yes, old habits, I suppose. Come along, Constance.”

  Connie and Byron were led down the hall. Peril was taking no chances, staying behind a wall of guards.

  “I’m sorry, Byron,” said Connie.

  “It’s okay, Connie.”

  “This is all my fault.”

  “It’s not always about you. You have this tendency to take all the responsibility on yourself.”

  “You’re right,” she said.

  Byron paused, but he’d already prepared himself for this battle and couldn’t stop the momentum. “We all make choices. And, despite what you might think, I chose to be your boyfriend. It wasn’t forced upon me.”

  A nearby guard averted his gaze from their conversation.

  “Can we not fight in front of the evil mastermind?” she asked.

  “Please, don’t stop on our account,” said Lady Peril. “This is your last chance to iron out your little lover’s spat. I’d hate for Constance to go to her grave with unfinished business. Probably come back as a ghost, given her bothersome nature.”

  “Okay, why the hell not?” said Connie. “I don’t know what you want from me, Byron. First, you’re upset that I try to keep you out of this part of my life. Then you’re mad because you’re worried about me. Then you’re upset that I’m trying to rescue you.”

  “No, I’m upset because you keep treating me like a prop,” he said. “You keep acting like I’m not part of this, like I have no say in it, like I’m something you have to worry about all the time.”

  “Didn’t I just rescue you from a mutant monster?”

  “Maybe I’m starting to wish you hadn’t.”

  “Maybe I’m starting to agree with you.”

  They stopped, and their escort came to a halt.

  “Byron, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  “I know, but you can’t do everything yourself. It’s all right to rely on others now and then.”

  “I do. I have Tia.” Connie hoped he wouldn’t ask the logical follow-up.

  “Where is Tia?”

  “I locked her in a closet,” s
aid Connie apologetically. “For her own protection.”

  “For hers? Or yours? I know you’re used to carrying the weight of the world, but it’s a lot easier with help. You make things harder on yourself by pretending you’re protecting everyone. But I think it’s bull. You keep waiting for me to leave, so you’re using your life, using this” —he waved at the henchagents around them— “as an excuse to avoid getting close to me.”

  The agents turned to Connie, awaiting her reply.

  “Okay, there might be something to that,” she admitted. “But you have to admit you freaked out when you realized just how crazy my life is.”

  The agents swiveled toward Byron.

  “I didn’t handle it well,” he said, “but I still think we can make this work.”

  “You forget. We’re broken up.” She took his hand, tentatively. “Aren’t we?”

  “I don’t know. Are we?” He squeezed her hand.

  “Yes,” said Lady Peril. “Very cathartic, indeed. If Connie was going to live past the hour, I believe you two might have a chance.” She clapped her hands. “Now, if we might continue on to your destruction.”

  At her nod, an agent prodded Connie with his weapon, and they started walking again.

  “Don’t worry, Byron,” said Connie. “I will get us out of here.”

  “I believe you,” he said.

  She held his hand tighter.

  The lights flickered and shut off. Connie was ready to spring, taking advantage of the sudden darkness, but she heard a hard whoosh and the hallway vibrated with a strong thud. The lights snapped back on. Two emergency lockdown doors had slammed down from the ceiling. Several henchagents had been caught between them and the floor. They groaned and squirmed under the pressure.