A bloom of red popped into existence on Snare’s chest, and the man staggered backward. He stumbled and turned toward Tim, confused. The ground beneath the two friends released them, and they backed away from the giant as he fell to his knees. Another red bloom punctured his head, back to front, and he twitched slightly before falling face first to the ground.
The silence around them grew thick as the four remained unmoving, horrified.
“You killed him,” Arthur whispered into the earpiece, shocked even at the volume of his intentionally muted voice. His comment elicited the attention of his companions.
“Of course I killed him.” The woman had a businesslike tone. “You have your friends. Get to the mob.”
“W-what’s going to happen?” Arthur stuttered as Tim walked over to him. With a yank, Arthur was upright, eyes darting around at the rooftops, trying to find a glint of a scope or any kind of hint to help locate the shooter.
“In about two minutes, a search drone is going to sweep the area, discover the body, and officially list Talia and Tim as rogue elements,” she said.
“Who are you talking to?” Tim asked.
Arthur was walking to the car, keeping the unmoving form of Snare in his sight. The muffled moans of an Enforcer complimented the shuffling of feet. “This… did you have to kill him?”
“People are already dead, Arthur,” the voice said. She spoke the truth, as cold as it could be. Those other deaths seemed so far away, so remote that they were only hints of mortality. He had never seen someone die, let alone violently. “I can’t stay here any longer. Even if the heroes don’t figure out those were gunshots, the search drone will lead them right to me.” Her voice intruded on his train of thought, decimating his concentration.
“Are we meeting up with you?” he asked, reaching through the broken window of the car. His backpack was waiting for him on the safety-glass crusted seat.
“I’ve helped too much already. You have thirty seconds. Out.” The line clicked, then hissed, then went dead.
Swinging the backpack on, Arthur stuck his hand out for Stair. “We need to get to the Mob, now.” Stair took his hand as he turned to Talia. Her eyes flicked to his as she pulled her hands apart, the zip-tie turning to ash as she did so. “How did…” he struggled to say.
She cut him off with an impatient gesture. “Lead the way.”
The three started to run to the alley across the street. Arthur turned when he realized that Tim was standing in the middle of the road, watching a hovering light bobbing in the distance grow larger. “I’ve got to find her, Art.”
Talia gritted her teeth in anger. “Tim, you’re being stupid!”
Tim looked at them, stonily. “They have to pay if they hurt her.”
“Damn it, Tim, you’re going to get yourself killed!” Arthur shouted. Tim looked solemnly back at the approaching search drone.
“Leave him, Arthur,” Talia ordered. She headed toward the alley, only skidding to a stop when she realized Arthur wasn’t moving. “What is wrong with you?”
Arthur sprinted back to Tim, leaving Stair for a moment. He grabbed his friend’s shoulders. “Tim, if you stay here, you’re going to get yourself killed. I owe it…” He stopped to change his wording. “… You owe it to Ari to get to her alive.” He stared into Tim’s eyes. “I will bring you to her. I promise.”
Tim didn’t seem to register what he was saying. “Arthur, please!” Talia shouted.
“Tim, he’s trying to help you!” Stair shouted, almost hysterical.
At the sound of her voice, Tim seemed to snap. He grabbed Arthur and ran toward the alley. Nearly dragged off his feet, Arthur could barely keep up as Tim didn’t stop for Stair. In a single swoop, he gathered the girl up and hoisted her onto his shoulder. They were well into the alley by the time the drone swept over the remnants of their escape, flowing over the wounded heroes, then finally over the dead one.
As they rounded a corner, a hollow noise belted from behind them, shrilling and terrible, lasting only a moment but echoing for what seemed to be an eternity.
The Italian Mob Headquarters only gave a hint of light through cracks in metal shutters drawn over the windows. The slender luminous accents were positively brilliant in comparison to the dead buildings around it. No doubt backup generators thrummed contentedly in the basement, secure against attacks. Nothing stirred in the darkness, and even the Enforcer patrols around the area were much lighter than the ones they had dodged up to now.
Tim still had Stair resting on his shoulders as they approached, squinting in the early morning light. “Do you think they’re still in there?”
“I hope so,” Arthur said. “It’s the only chance we have.” He marched toward the front steps.
“The lights would be off if they had been taken, right?” Talia asked.
Stair squirmed her way off of Tim’s shoulder and landed next to him, nearly face-planting as she did so. She gracelessly corrected herself and caught up to Arthur, gripping his shirt tightly. He was relieved when the world remained relatively normal under her touch. “What if no one’s there?” she asked quietly.
“It’ll be safe for now,” he answered with a nod. He felt bad sounding so sure when he had no idea if everyone inside had been slaughtered, but he wasn’t about to betray his own fear. Especially when he was sure he was quaking noticeably at this point.
At the top of the steps, the windows to the vestibule doors had shutters drawn over them. The card reader, there for employees, had been hot-wired and sparked. “That’s always a good sign,” Tim muttered.
“Tim, not now,” Talia said, weary.
Arthur dug in his pants pocket and removed the ID card from earlier in the day. He swiped it hopefully. The reader made a whirring noise before the locks released. Arthur opened the door and motioned everyone inside. With a final glance around the area, Arthur entered the vestibule.
They were cramped inside the tiny space, Arthur discovering that the doors to the lobby were also covered by emergency shutters. The outer door locked and sealed behind them, the already small area seemed to grow airtight in the sudden darkness. Their breathing grew thunderous as time stretched on, the only light coming from a red recording speck on a camera in the corner.
“This was a great idea, Arthur,” Tim said. “Good thing Ari’s out getting tortured while I’m stuck…”
“Tim, shut up. Now.” Talia was clearly growing more and more impatient with Tim.
Tim sniffed angrily. “Sorry, don’t want to spoil the mood for you two.”
After what appeared to be an eternity, the security shutters rattled upward. The lobby doors clicked unlocked and swung open. Blinding light spilled in, and everyone tried to protect their eyes. Arthur turned away, discovering that the shutters behind him were covered in countless dents and tiny spatters of blood. He threw his hand up as he turned, trying to see through the light.
Gradually, a dark form made itself coherent in front of the spotlight. “More than one group of Enforcers tried to get in here,” Catalina said before snapping her fingers. The powerful light died, and they could see again. Dozens of armed mobsters, their Tommy Guns lowered, nodded at their arrival approvingly as they dispersed. Catalina walked forward and guided them into the lobby. “Sorry about the theatrics.”
“What was that about?” Talia asked, her eyes still squinting.
“Emergency procedure,” Catalina explained. “We have to make sure anyone who enters is legit once lockdown is called.” She looked into the vestibule, the dents and patches of tissue making her cough out a laugh. “Or else.” She grabbed hold of the doors and slammed them shut, sealing them inside and guaranteeing, for the time being at least, they were safe.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
PLANS
ARTHUR SAT ON THE COT in the empty, windowless room. He looked at his computer resting in the corner on a crate. Mollie’s eye flickered, trying desperately to repair data which had long since proven to be unsalvageable. Not that it mattered.
Not that much of anything mattered at this point.
Despite the reassurances of Catalina and Allison, the Mob’s headquarters hardly seemed the secure stronghold that he had envisioned. The building now appeared antiquated and fragile, almost like it was made out of hardened marshmallow fluff instead of brick and mortar. Mobsters went about their business, fortifying windows and entrances, chatting as if they had no idea what the outside world had become. Arthur firmly believed that they didn’t, protected as they were for the time being.
Catalina turned out to be quite the dictator, informing them that, after resting, they would be required to report to debriefing at 9:00 a.m. The concept of treating civilian chaos like it was merely information to be digested didn’t sit right with him. Then again, neither did the wholesale murder of someone… and that’s precisely what had happened in front of him hours before.
The look of horror and shock on the hero’s face haunted Arthur when he closed his eyes. The scene played out in slow motion every time he tried to sleep, and when he had managed to pass out, he was haunted by a sea of figures with that mutilated face, watching and pointing at him. He would wake up once their mouths opened and delivered a cry that sounded like a series of gunshots popping in rapid succession. He hadn’t even heard the gun’s report when the man died, but it nonetheless wormed into his subconscious.
Mollie would have been a welcome diversion from his own brain, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. Their last conversation was spent bringing her up to speed, after which she didn’t seem too talkative, either. Mollie went back to work, and he went back to staring at the walls of what was rapidly starting to feel like a prison.
“What time is it, Mol?” he asked.
“It is 8:43 in the morning,” she chirruped.
He nodded, then hoisted himself off the bed. Now was as good a time as any to see what Catalina had to say. The others were probably there already, or at the least preparing to hear news about what had happened and what the plan was, if indeed there was a plan. Chance alone seemed to control his fate at this point, any plan threatening to disintegrate at the next terrible development. Admitting he was scared was an understatement: even the act of putting his hand on the door latch seemed foreboding.
“You are coming back,” Mollie said in the corner, her voice unable to modulate the fear she no doubt wanted to display. “Right?”
“Of course, Mollie.” Arthur didn’t turn around to look at the computer. After watching someone get their card punched by two bullets, reassuring Mollie had taken on a feeling of lying to a child. Telling an adult that things would be alright was different; at least they knew that everyone was equally terrified and that pacification merely acted as a courtesy. Mollie, and even Stair, who possibly still had faith that adults knew what was going on, took them at their word, which was heartbreaking. But the truth… the truth was and would continue to be horrifying for the foreseeable future.
“I meant to…” Mollie trailed off, which was unusual unless she was making an observation and wished it to sound more ‘human’ when it came out. It seemed now like she was actually at a loss for words. “Thank you.” Arthur turned to look at the computer.
“Why?”
The blue iris swished in place. “You programmed me. You taught me. You gave me everything.”
Arthur didn’t know how to feel about that declaration. He walked over to the computer and knelt down by it. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“You protected me from SVAC, at great risk to yourself,” she continued.
He didn’t feel like being praised at the moment. “I wasn’t going to get caught. It was hardly any risk.”
“You are being stubborn,” came the reply.
Arthur was silent as he slowly realized he lacked the energy to argue. “You’re welcome, Mollie.” He stood up and walked to the door again.
“Statistics do not give us favorable odds, Arthur,” she squeaked. “Do you think we are going to be okay?”
Arthur stopped, hand on the door, and couldn’t bring himself to answer. Suddenly aware he had stopped breathing, he gasped and gave a nervous laugh. “Of course,” he croaked. “Everything is going to be alright.” The moment the words left his mouth, he hated himself for lying.
The conference room was large, with a massive table inset with what looked like a television monitor facing upwards. A projector screen on the rear wall was flanked by two potted ferns resting on pedestals. A skylight let copious amounts of natural light into the room, making it feel less like a claustrophobic’s nightmare at the cost of making the visual equipment difficult to use. The wood-paneled walls were gorgeously ornate, and the pictures of leaders past on the walls added a very official tone to the room.
Arthur was the second to arrive, Tim having preceded him and taken up aggressive pacing. As Arthur sat down at the nearest chair, Tim stared at him predatorily, making Arthur incredibly uncomfortable. Talia entered a few minutes later, looking tired but at least more rested than Arthur felt. She turned to him and gave a weak smile. Earlier this morning would not have been the first time she had seen a man die. Stair, unsurprisingly, didn’t turn up. The girl was out like a light when Catalina had shown them to the sleeping quarters, and she didn’t even stir when Tim had placed her on the cot in what must have been an uncomfortable position.
Tim’s gaze went to the squeaking door announcing Catalina’s entrance. Unsurprisingly, Allison shoved her way by her sister, the shorter sibling taking a seat at the far end of the table as the taller one shut her eyes in annoyance. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road. I have sniper duty in fifteen minutes,” Allison announced. Arthur subconsciously approved her hands-on approach to defense, but found her bloodlust a little worrying.
Catalina grabbed a small device from the table and clicked it. The skylights tinted, drowning the room in darkness. A projector inset in the ceiling clicked on, and the screen behind Allison displayed a computer readout of New York’s ‘villain zone’. “At approximately nine thirty last night, our network picked up increased hero activity on the edge of the villain zone.” Catalina hit a button, and the image zoomed in on a segment of the city. “Within the hour, they made their move. From all indications, heroes swooped in and arrested all villains in an area, carted them off to an undisclosed location, and another contingent moved on to the next sector. This system was incredibly effective – we were all caught off guard.” Slowly, blocks of the city were delineated in red and filled in, and then neighboring sectors were selected. “We tried to recall as many of our off-duty goons as possible, but we’re operating at less than half our full capacity. The rest are assumed to be imprisoned. Be that as it may, we’re looking at the very real possibility that this is the only holdout the city has.”
“Damn right!” Allison said, slamming her fist on the table for dramatic effect. “No need for real bullets when you have a limitless stockpile of rubber ones and a metric fuck-ton of Chicago Typewriters!” She laughed and clapped her hands once. Catalina looked at her out of the side of her eyes, clearly annoyed.
“Do you have any idea what they’re doing with them?” Talia asked.
Catalina nodded. She clicked a button, and the wireframe image of Arthur’s Fortress appeared on screen. It was badly corrupted, worse than what Mollie had been able to recover. “From what we were able to pull from the USB drive, we think that there’s a new prison designed to hold villains indefinitely.” Arthur didn’t want to interrupt. This was Catalina’s debriefing, after all. And he didn’t exactly want to admit that this genius piece of architecture was his work. “What’s worse is that, from the data we have, this place is… impenetrable.”
“So that’s their plan?” Tim grunted. “Get all the villains in one place and kill them?”
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Talia scolded in the manner of a concerned parent to an angry child.
“Really? You think they’re doing something else there?” Tim leaned over the table threateningly. “I kno
w! They’re going to throw a party!”
“Tim, this isn’t…” Arthur started.
“Shut up.” Tim went back to pacing.
“What would you propose we do?” Catalina asked.
“We bust in there and break them out!” Tim slammed his fist into his hand.
Allison nodded and pointed to him. “Now that’s a plan!”
Catalina shut her eyes. “A suicidal one. What part of ‘impenetrable’ was confusing?”
“Art!” Tim said, pointing to him. Arthur’s heart skipped a beat. “Arthur designed the thing, he can get us in there!”
“Damn!” Allison said, drawing the word out to include several extra syllables. “You’re an inventor, too?” She slapped her sister on the leg. “And you wanted to shoot them!”
Catalina leaned on the table. “Is this true?”
Arthur nodded and got to his feet. “Yes. The design was used by the heroes. I never meant…” He was at a loss for words. “I think Dark Saint was funneling money into this for years. I don’t know why.”
Catalina cocked an eyebrow before turning back to the projected image. “Can you get us in?”
Arthur slumped. “No.”
Tim lurched toward Arthur. “What do you mean, ‘no?’”
Casting a glance at Tim, Arthur refocused on Catalina. “I designed it to be impossible for a hero to break in. Even I can’t get in, now.” He looked at Tim again. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Tim coughed. “Sorry?” His voice was rising to a dangerous volume. “My life, my entire life, is in there, and you’re sorry?” He grabbed a chair and hurled it at the wall behind him, the wooden frame splintering at the force of it. Tim wheeled around and brought his fist down on the table, punching a hole in the edge. His eyes rose to Arthur, who was now standing and backing away. “Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it.” Tim marched toward one of the side doors and yanked it open, nearly pulling it off its hinges. A moment later, he was gone.
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