Sarina raised a hand to volunteer, knowing that she would make a better impression than snarky Tess. Jasper smiled at her, but, once again, nobody paid any attention to her. At least she had the music player to keep her occupied.
“It should probably be me,” Ace volunteered. “I’m the one who’s in touch with most of the strings we’ve pulled.”
“Okay, first question.” Trashcan’s gaze swiveled over to settle on Sarina. “What’s with her? Why do the heroes want her so bad?”
“Fuck if I know,” Ace replied. “They think she’s dangerous, but her power doesn’t work. Think of her as a friend who’s tagging along.”
“The girl’s useless,” Tess added.
Sarina wanted to clarify things, but what she didn’t want was any more drama and fighting. Besides, she had to admit that Tess was partially right. A broken power wasn’t considered useful. Or dangerous, for that matter.
I’m a useless ex-addict, but it’s okay. Everything was all right. She listened to music, leaving the important talk to the important people.
Trashcan glanced at Mindbender, dubious. “Is that true? The girl’s power doesn’t work?”
The mousy young woman settled down on the chair that Ace had upended moments before. She propped her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her hands, her gaze fixed on Sarina.
A painful pulse shot through Sarina’s head, and her vision blacked out for a moment. The mental probe awakened something withdrawn and angry which stirred at the edge of her consciousness, slipping out of Mindbender’s reach. After an undefinable stretch of time, filled by the sound of trance beats, the psychic presence withdrew from Sarina’s mind. The throbbing pain ceased, leaving her with a vague sense of regret because she hadn’t been able to help.
“I can’t grasp her power,” Mindbender said in German. “There’s nothing there as far as I can tell.”
“Good to know,” Trashcan said in the same language. He turned his attention back to Ace. “Now that you’re being so helpful, I almost like you. Why weren’t you this helpful before?”
“I’m not running a charity, mate.”
That’s why I’m so glad you decided to help me, Sarina thought, optimistic that she would find a way to pay him back one day.
“Come along then,” Trashcan said in English, gesturing at the door. “All of you.”
Glad that she could finally do something useful, Sarina fell in with the other Nameless who shuffled after their German friend. They passed through the doorway in single file across the aluminum-lined corridor to the door on the opposite wall. There wasn’t any reason to talk because the harmonious unity between them filled them with understanding for this difficult situation.
They passed through the unfamiliar doorway to enter a room that was smaller than the one they’d left behind, but less cluttered and more comfortably furnished. Even though the mismatched rugs, couches, tables, and cabinets looked secondhand, the space was homey and welcoming. Instead of stopping, their host led them straight through the cozy living room to one of two wooden doors set into the opposing wall.
“You see, we can’t afford to run a charity here, either,” Trashcan said.
They reached the wooden door on the far side of the room and Trashcan slid it open. He and Mindbender led the Nameless through to another corridor beyond. Sarina and the others bumped into one another in their effort to keep up. No one wanted to be left behind.
“Right now, we need to go into town to buy essentials. And we need your boy to come so he can cover us. Unfortunately, we can’t keep all of you around,” Trashcan said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Mina has to sleep, which means she’ll have to put all of you on standby. We’re not outfitted to keep half a dozen prisoners overnight.”
It all made perfect sense to Sarina.
“We could keep the boy and perhaps one other,” Trashcan offered as he led the Nameless down the dark narrow corridor. “But not more than two. Two is the maximum.”
I’m going to miss them, Sarina thought. Especially Jasper. Despite her mixed feelings, she knew her new friends couldn’t provide more than they had already. It wouldn’t have been nice to ask for more than they could give. Her companions followed along in silent agreement, smiling at the announcement.
The cheery tune in Sarina’s ear was winding down, nearing its end. Other than that, the only sound she heard was the rhythmic patter of footsteps echoing down the corridor. As they approached a massive steel door set within the wall of the corridor, the music picked back up with a different track. Track four, if memory served her correctly.
“The night is not aware, listen to the song that passes through…” Crystal Dust sang in her ear, accompanying the trance beats with her sweet voice.
Sarina heard the click of Trashcan’s key turning in the lock.
“Reach toward the moon, watch the world turn anew…”
It was a good song. The kind that gave her good vibes. She caught herself about to hum along, but stopped, unwilling to distract the others.
“You’re looking mighty happy, girl,” Trashcan said to her. He briefly studied her before taking Ace’s second pistol out of his waistband and passing it to Mindbender.
She’s pretty, Sarina thought. And what a lovely name. Mina.
“We better keep a close eye on this one.” Trashcan pulled the steel door open.
“I’m happy we’re friends now,” Sarina told the junkyard rogues. She flashed a genuine smile in tune with her soundtrack.
The song wound its way through her heart. “Those precious dreams we share, they’re alive with the sound of you…”
Trashcan snorted a laugh. “Friends, sure. We’re all good friends now. Now get inside and wait while I have a little chat with the rest of your pals.”
“Why?” she asked. Not to complain, but she wanted to know.
“The heroes are looking for you all over Europe,” Trashcan said. “I haven’t yet decided what to do with you. But the less you know, the better.”
Oh. That’s true. I’m a game breaker, so they must still be after me.
“Okay.” Sarina stepped through the door he held open for her. Once inside the tiny space, she turned back to Trashcan. “Can Jasper wait with me?” she asked with a hopeful smile. “He always watches out for me.”
“No. I’m interested in his power.” The rogue Technician flipped a switch to turn on the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The door swung closed, and locked with a faint click.
It’s okay, Sarina wanted to tell her host. I understand.
She turned her attention to her surroundings. The room was smaller than she thought it would be—no more than a supply closet and crammed full of unfamiliar tools and electronics to boot. There was enough space to sit on an empty milk crate if she pulled her knees up.
Jasper can tell me later what they talked about, she mused, wrapping her arms around her knees. She closed her eyes to dive into the flow of music resonating throughout her mind. Good vibes.
“Life is full of stormy fire, but keep on dancing and we’ll make it through.”
It was easy to lose track of time without anything to worry about or fear. The track on her player switched to the next song, and Sarina spent minute after minute humming and swaying along with the music. Until the final track dug its way into her blissful oblivion and spoiled it all.
When its electronic beat joined the birdsong of Jasper’s special track, something stirred deep inside her. The presence surfaced from somewhere beyond her consciousness to announce herself with a pulse of power. Each beat sent a tremor through her body, overtaking her and pushing happy Crybaby Sarina down into blissful oblivion where she wouldn’t be in the way.
I. Am. Here.
Dancer straightened with a graceful ripple of movement, rolling her head from side to side to ease the kinks in her neck. It was a cramp from cowering for too damn long, which irritated her. This whole situation irritated her. She glanced around the sad excuse for a holding cell.
<
br /> So you morons believe you can hold me in? She was almost amused. Did you really think you could brainwash one of us, sell me to the heroes, and leave the rest for dead?
Sweeping a hand through the air to extend her range, she wove her presence throughout the fabric of reality. The physical aspects of her surroundings blurred in unison. The walls, the crates, the random tools were all reduced to semitransparent layers of gray. The layout of the underground base and every other object in her range appeared as a blurry, multilayered map in her mind’s eye. Dancer’s alternate perception exposed the bright, colorful life lights of the people beyond the walls containing her. She recognized the distinctive glow of her teammates in a large room farther down the corridor, the unsteady flickering evidence that they were alive. Three rogues were in the same room, interrogating their prisoners.
The feel of her brimming power was overwhelming. Intoxicating. Especially now after it had been idle for so long. Dancer knew that she could have twisted and reshaped every inch of this godforsaken underground dead zone if she wanted to. She could easily have cranked her range up to a mile, maybe more. All she had to do was to find the rhythm and keep moving.
Life is full of stormy fire, but keep on dancing and we’ll make it through….
More range would do nothing in this current situation, she decided. Not when her enemies were so close. She needed a little help in making something disappear.
Dancer reached out to grasp Snow’s pale life light from where it glowed above ground. She yanked the quiet girl’s glowing presence down into the room with her, witnessing how it flared with alarm. She forced herself to let go of her life sense, while switching back to her own human senses was harder than it should have been. The rush of her power, that bursting potential for change, was as addictive as the coke Crybaby Sarina had snorted in the past.
Snow squeaked in surprise at the abrupt location change, finding herself on a milk crate in a tiny dank closet. The white-haired girl struggled to steady herself, grasping at the metal shelf beside her for balance. Dancer gave her a moment to collect her senses.
“Trouble?” Snow asked, still wide-eyed.
“You have work to do. Won’t be as messy as if I did it, but people are going to die either way.”
Dancer wouldn’t give two shits if Tess took a bullet to the face, but she couldn’t risk a Crybaby Sarina meltdown in the aftermath. They shared a body, after all, so it wouldn’t do either of them any good if her alter-ego was stuck in bed for months on end.
Snow’s eyes flicked across Dancer’s face and body, noticing her square shoulders and how she held her chin high. The little autist was present for once, paying attention.
“Is different you,” Snow said in her jolted English.
So you’re not as stupid as you pretend to be.
“You’re a Revoker, right?” Dancer asked. “Can you get rid of the mind-bending parasite in my head?” Mindbender wasn’t affecting Dancer right this moment, but her pacifying power still had Crybaby Sarina in its clutches. Fortunately for the two of them, Sarina wasn’t in control.
Snow studied her intently before stepping down from the crate. “Make bad magic disappear? I try.”
Dancer felt the other girl’s power as a scouring coldness crept through her mind and blanketed out her thoughts. It was like a thick layer of snow falling over her mind, freezing it from within. When the sensation passed, she felt like herself again and she was able to think and move.
“Did it work?” she asked, skeptical.
“I think,” Snow said.
There was no way to be sure until Jasper’s final track ended and Dancer’s other Self didn’t reclaim control as Mindfucker’s happy little hippie friend. Dancer might be able to stay in control if she wanted, but she couldn’t be sure of it. She had never listened to one of Jasper’s special tracks to the end.
Let’s hope Mindbender is too occupied with the others to check on me.
Dancer considered grabbing the other Nameless, but discarded the idea. Trashcan had admitted to Mindbender’s power surge. There was no guarantee of her need of visual contact to reclaim Dancer and add Snow to her puppet collection, and no telling what exactly she could do now.
Dancer turned her attention to the massive metal door. She had to get out, but she couldn’t risk doing anything to alert Mindbender. Messing with her surroundings would be complicated because they were underground, and she didn’t feel like getting buried alive because she misjudged how her power would affect the environment. Besides, she had to assume her mind-fucked teammates would jump to the defense of the scrapyard gang.
The last of the electronic beats in Dancer’s ear dwindled away as the song neared its end. Dancer didn’t know if she would overdose on Jasper’s power by playing the track twice, so she kept her fingers off the music player, reasonably sure she could stay in control for as long as necessary.
She turned to the Revoker. “Can you stop someone else from using their powers?”
Snow shook her head, causing a white fringe of bangs to fall into her eyes. “No. It not work like that.”
Dancer sighed. “Fine. Get rid of the door, then.”
Snow complied without protest. Over the next few seconds, the dull gray metal of the door eroded away as if corroded by an unseen substance. There was no noise, no scent, no dust—an expansion of nothingness. Jasper’s track faded into silence while Dancer’s weaker Self stirred in the back of her mind, threatening to leak disorientation and confusion into Dancer’s own awareness.
She pushed Crybaby Sarina back. You wouldn’t be able to handle this. The power was hers, and she wasn’t going to waste it.
Dancer poked her head through the empty door frame to steal a glance down the corridor. As she’d expected, no one was there. Her life sense had pinpointed the others farther down the hallway in one of the three rooms at the end of the corridor.
“Come on,” she ordered Snow, stepping out of the supply closet.
The mission was crystal clear. She had to take out the damned Mindfucker before the girl could mess with her head again.
As they silently moved down the hallway, Dancer commanded one of Ace’s guns to make its way into her hand. It didn’t appear, though. Instead, her power delivered a headless golf club covered in a disgusting oily substance.
What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?
She stopped mid-stride and put the golf club handle down on the hallway floor, careful not to make any noise. She made another attempt, and this time she got a bread knife with a dull blade—not much of an improvement. Not if she wanted to take Mindbender out right away. When her third attempt delivered a braided rope noose, she snorted in disgust.
Beside her, Snow looked down at the items.
Her fourth try spawned a gun, a different model than the one Ace used. Lighter and probably loaded with a smaller caliber—if it was loaded at all. Dancer didn’t know how to check without risking an accidental shot, and noise was the last thing she needed right now.
If we make it through this, Ace needs to show Crybaby Sarina how to use a goddamn gun.
As they continued down the hallway, Dancer clutched the gun close to her thigh. She didn’t think she had the time to summon anymore weapons because there was a power-surged mind controller on the loose and close by, and one or more of her companions could get killed any moment. She would have to take her chances and improvise if something happened.
As they neared the end of the hallway, three doors came into view—two to the left and one to the right. Remembering the layout her life sense had shown her, Dancer turned to the one to the right.
“Stay back a little,” she whispered to Snow, positioning herself in front of the door and pressing an ear to it. Ace’s voice was recognizable, but it was too muffled to understand the words. He did a lot of talking, though. It sounded like he was giving a goddamn speech.
She heard Trashcan speak up since he was closer to the door, and his words were easier to understand. “…
even if Gentleman finds out … no way he’ll find us. Remember … the boy.”
So he thinks he can use Sunny to escape persecution from Gentleman as well as the heroes, she deduced. Well, fuck that.
Dancer looked over her shoulder at Snow, who was following close behind. “Remove this door,” she whispered, resisting the urge to activate her life sense again. It was useful, but the rush it gave her felt too damn good so she didn’t trust herself to snap out of it before the first shots were fired.
Snow drew upon her power to dissolve the door in front of her. As the initial hole appeared, Dancer peered into the room, hoping no one would look in that direction. What she saw was a dingy workshop with a workbench piled high with all sorts of metal junk pushed against the opposite wall.
As the hole enlarged she saw Trashcan sitting on a chair on the right-hand side next to a bunch of winding metal pipes, fiddling with a wiring harness for a mechanical arm with a minigun attached to it.
Plentiful’s voice sounded from the other side of the room, out of sight. “You better be right.”
By now the door had more than halfway dissolved. Fortunately no one on the other side had noticed Dancer yet. She didn’t waste any effort in locating the Nameless, but she knew they were in there somewhere. No, there was only one person she was interested in finding.
Where’s the little mind-bending fuck? Come out, come out, wherever you are.
Dancer poked her head into the room and caught sight of Mindbender, perched on a small cot beside Plentiful along one of the side walls. She was dwarfed by the hundreds of cables and bulky machinery surrounding her on all sides.
She could have charged across the room to reach her target, but it felt risky even to her. Time to try something new, she decided, willing herself into existence right behind Mindbender.
When she reappeared on the other side of the room, her position was off by a several feet, but she was close enough to make the little psychic fucker jolt in surprise. Before Mindbender even had a chance to turn around, Dancer lunged and pointed the gun right at her stupid, scarf-covered head.
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