Project Northwoods

by Jonathan Charles Bruce

The silence in the room grew tangible. “Why don’t we just attack the gates?” Allison suggested. “We have real weapons, you know. The kind that kill real good.”

  Arthur shook his head. “Once the alarm is raised, the system defenses would shred everything.” He put his hands on his face and shook his head. “What have I done?”

  Talia stood and put her hand on his shoulder. “There’s no way you could have known this was going to happen.”

  Catalina hit a button, and the projector shut off. Sunlight returned to the room. “I have an obligation to protect everyone here.” She went toward the double doors at the other end of the room. “It’ll only be a matter of time before they burn or starve us out. We have to be long gone before that happens.” She breezed past Arthur, stopped, then turned to him. With a very concerned mask of a face, she patted him on the shoulder. “There, there.” With a half-smile, she turned back around and made for the exit.

  Arthur didn’t move as Talia stood and left quietly. Allison eventually made her way out, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He slid down the wall, shaking. The knowledge that he had contributed to the downfall of villain-kind ate at him, his heart slamming in some kind of drumming tribute to despair.

  It took a little bit of exploration to find the roof access stairwell, but Arthur was suffocating indoors. He needed to know he could escape the walls, the forced refuge of the interior. Even if the heat of the day was oppressive, it was better than the knowledge that Tim was wallowing in fury, raging inside the building, waiting for something or someone to hit.

  Talia had spent much of the day trying to get some kind of information out of Catalina. When Arthur had tried to talk to the reporter, she seemed too busy to care. Stair apparently had not stirred from her bed at all. He hadn’t even seen her in the cafeteria when they had gotten around to serving food. Concerned, he left her a sandwich outside her door, hoping that it wouldn’t remain untouched. Tim, of course, gave him adequate reason to stay outdoors. His seemingly permanent scowl was unsettling as he brushed his way quietly past goons, poking into closets and other rooms. Arthur hadn’t dared to ask what he was doing for fear of finding out he was planning something crazy.

  A cool breeze made Arthur’s arms break into goose bumps, compelling him to squeeze his chest to stay warm. It was little comfort, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back inside.

  It amazed him that, in the two hours he had spent on the roof of the building, he didn’t see a single Enforcer. Or any other hero, for that matter. Occasionally, a plainclothes villain would dart from one side of the street to the next, but otherwise nothing. He had never seen New York City so empty, the once vibrant and loud metropolis reduced to a silent memorial to the past. Far away, in the distance, he fancied he heard a car horn, a screech of tires, or something along that vein, but he couldn’t be sure. All he really knew was that the neutral world, the world he should have belonged in, was going about its business as normal, unaware of or indifferent to what happened in this slice of city.

  The suspicion was confirmed as night fell, a golden halo creeping higher into the night sky as the distant neutral zone, with its defiant taller structures, remained fully functional and committed to light pollution. He had to wonder if there were road blocks set up around the entrances as a way to quarantine the area. Even if there were no physical blockades, the heroes had made it impossible to get word to or from the outside world. Cell phones, modems, landlines, television… the signals were jammed while they remained in the blackout area. The only information came from a few AM radio stations that somehow weren’t being intercepted, and even they were useless, operating as though nothing happened to roughly 150,000 people. Either they were willingly ignoring the event, or the shock of losing a hero allowed them to be callous.

  “I thought I’d find you up here,” Talia said as a door squeaked shut behind him. He didn’t turn. The crunch of gravel announced her slow approach. “It’s kind of… beautiful, in a way.” She folded her arms across her chest as he snorted. Dismayed by his attitude, she took her cigarette from her pocket with one hand and pulled a lighter out with her other.

  Arthur smirked a little, watching Talia bring the smoke up to her lips. “Managed to get your cancer stick out in one piece,” he said as she lit it.

  With a casual nod, she took a long pull from it. She exhaled, the plume caught in the wind. “It’s my father’s. Of course I’m going to make sure it stays on me.” She reached inside her jacket pocket, withdrawing the pendant from earlier. “Also managed this.”

  Arthur looked at it, then back out over the rapidly darkening streets. “Keep it,” he muttered. “I don’t think someone like me deserves it.”

  “And just who are you, Arthur Lovelass?”

  He looked at her, studying her face as she squinted at him. There was something in her eyes, a glint which he thought he saw flicker for a moment. Rather than puzzle over what such a glimmer could mean, he thought about her question. He sat down on the roof as he came to his conclusion. “I’m a failure and a murderer.” He looked up at her. “And I don’t know which is worse.”

  Talia rolled her eyes and sat down next to him. “Why are you so insistent on being held accountable for this?”

  “I invented this stuff.” With a kick, Arthur sent the pebbles on the rooftop flying. “I should have just left the villain stuff to the people who got it.”

  “Got it?”

  “The whole ‘we aren’t supposed to win’ thing.” Talia nodded, sitting next to him as she took a drag off her cigarette. “It’s not the same for heroes. There’s no hubris.” He stretched out and laid down, staring at the occasional star that spawned from the blackness. “You’re practically one of them. It’s not like you’d understand.”

  Talia nodded. “I always wanted to be a hero. Just like dad. Save the world and all that.” She laughed, taking yet another puff. “Childish bullshit.”

  “Why?”

  “Thirty years ago that may have been true, but the time period I was born in… I never had a chance. It was either stay in Russia and be classified as a villain, or come here and be classified as a villain.” She craned her head upwards and watched the sky. “Dead or alive, I’d be screwed.” Talia leaned back, cigarette still smoldering in her hands as she braced them behind her on the roof. “I wasn’t even allowed to work at the Heroes’ Guild. The only people who took me in were villains.”

  “The Cold War ended in name only, I guess,” he mused. Talia nodded in agreement. “Your father would be proud of you, wouldn’t he?”

  Talia contemplated the question long enough to convince Arthur that it wasn’t a knee-jerk response. “I think so.” She looked at him, and that glint in her eye reappeared for a moment. “He was a warrior philosopher, and always made sure I knew that he loved me for who I was, not what I could be.”

  Arthur smiled. “That must have been nice.” He brought his eyes back to his feet, feeling his gut turn inside out at the fact that unconditional love was hardly the watchword in his childhood home. “It was understood that to be a Lovelass was to be a hero. Anything else, anything less than what he thought a hero should be, and right out the door.”

  “So bizarre.” Talia resumed staring at the sky. “He was practically the perfect role model, championing the Bronze Age and adapting to politics so readily.”

  He meant to snort softly, but it came out much harsher. “Everyone thought he was great. Julia, mom… even my teachers couldn’t understand why I had it in for him.” Shifting amongst the gravel, he put his arm behind his head. “The man was every bit as self-righteous a dickhead as Arbiter.”

  Talia rolled onto her side and looked at Arthur. She brought the cigarette to her mouth, pulled, and exhaled off to the side. “I think you turned out pretty well despite him.”

  Arthur cocked an eyebrow. “Have you met me?”

  “Sure, you’re bullheaded,” she said jovially, “and a defeatist whiner…”

  “Are you flirting with me?”
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  She waved him off with her cigarette hand, a smile broadening on her face. “But look at everything you’ve built. You have Mollie, which alone is amazing.”

  “And it’s those great things which are keeping Tim from Ariana, and which seem likely to turn into a tomb for countless people.” He went right back to looking at the sky. Talia’s face seemed to fall, and she rolled onto her back. “Face it, I’m a loser.”

  They remained silent for a few minutes, watching more stars force their way through the light haze. Talia finished her cigarette up to the filter, flicked it free of ash, then opened her mouth and let the wind pull whorls of smoke out. Arthur had never been one to buy into the idea that smoking was cool, but the way that Talia seemed so relaxed and in control when the world melted around her…

  “I guess I’ll be going, then,” she announced, startling him. She brought the whole cigarette up from out of sight and moved to tuck it in a pocket.

  Arthur sat up. “Wait… is that the same cigarette?” he asked.

  Talia cocked an eyebrow. “Yes. My father’s. We had this conversation.”

  He shook his head. “How did you do that?”

  She regarded it for a moment, leaning up onto her elbow. “Oh, right. The Entropy Principle.” The words rolled out of her mouth like it was the most natural thing in the world to expect. “Not as powerful as my grandmother’s, but pretty useful, I guess.” She looked at him. “I can manipulate the decay in non-living compounds, to greater effect the more familiar I am with them.” To illustrate the point, she held the cigarette in her hand by the filter, then willed the rest of it to decompose. “Convinced the guy I registered with it was only limited to the cigarette. That’s why I’m only Tier One.”

  “You can age things…” he said. “Like the zip-ties you were cuffed with…”

  “And that’s not all,” she said, enjoying his slack-jawed stare. As though watching a film reel reverse itself, the cigarette began to rebuild. Stems of tobacco spread as the paper grew and restored itself in patches. Finally, the cylinder stopped moving, and it was whole again. “I’ve spent so much time getting familiar with this cigarette, no matter what I do to it, I can always bring it back.” She straightened. “I’ve saved a ton of money on these things.”

  Arthur was barely paying attention, his eyes darting around. His mouth was working silently, as though words too heavy to escape were waiting behind his lips. He looked at her. “Does it work for electronics?”

  Talia appeared slightly nonplussed by his erratic behavior, but nodded. “I guess.” She laughed a little. “I’ve only ever had to buy one vibrator.” She waited for his reaction, but he had apparently caught himself on her affirmative. He stood up quickly, slipping on the rocky surface and ran to the door. “What’s wrong?” she called after him, rising from the rooftop.

  He turned to her as he hit the door. “I have a plan.”

  June 26th, 2011

  Afternoon

  Arthur had managed to disappear for the next day and a half, a feat which Talia recognized as hugely impressive given the large staff and relatively small quarters. He seemed to have recently vacated his room, taking all of his things and vanishing into thin air. It was like he had never been there at all.

  Closing the door to his room after checking it for the fifth time, Talia felt compelled to check on the girl they had brought with them. Marching down the hall gave her the feeling of walking down a hospital ward, and only the quiet conversation of a couple of goons eased the sensation. Stair’s door was unlatched, a fact which unsettled Talia as she poked her head into the room. To her dismay, the girl also seemed to have disappeared. The room looked more appropriately lived-in, with the blanket hanging partially off the bed, but it was otherwise untouched. “It’s not that big of a building…” she muttered to herself as her eyes swept the room from the doorway.

  “What’s going on?” grunted Tim, walking up to her.

  “I can’t find Arthur or Stair.” Tim looked in the room, shrugged and started to walk away. Talia shut the door and went after him. “Well, where have you been?”

  “Taking in the sights.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Tim stopped and turned to her. “I bet they’ve got a stockpile of weapons somewhere. Real ones.”

  “Tim…” she started, trying to find the right words for ‘you’re crazy’ without sounding too confrontational.

  He stopped her with a wave of his hand. “Running away isn’t the answer, alright? New York sets the mood for the rest of the United States.” She arched her eyebrows and broke eye contact. “Am I right?”

  She nodded. “I suppose.”

  “And that means no matter where we go, we’re outlaws. No secret identities to protect us, no Villains’ Guild willing to take us in, no neutrals willing to bend over backward to save our asses.” Tim checked over his shoulder. Further down the hall, a mobster was having a conversation with another while two more sat on the floor playing jacks. It was all surreal considering the circumstances; it was like kids from a 1920’s photograph grew up and forgot they were in the 21st century.

  “So, what are you suggesting?” Talia asked as Tim turned back to her.

  “I’m suggesting,” he hissed pointedly, “that we find where Catalina’s keeping her illegal firearms and find a way into the Fortress of Darkness.”

  Talia laughed, a short burst of disbelief. “You heard Arthur…”

  “So?” Tim shuffled closer to her. “He has nothing to gain by breaking in.”

  “And you have plenty to lose by trying,” she whispered. “I’m sure we can think of some way…”

  “To wait around and get caught?” Tim yelled. “Talia, there are human beings in that place, and it’s only a matter of time until we’re dragged in by our necks!”

  “Tim, lower your voice.”

  “Then what do you think is going to happen? Tracking collars? You think they’ll study us for our mating habits?” He wheeled around and punched the wall behind him, splintering the wood beneath his fist. Talia instinctively backed away, and Tim returned to close the gap. “They’ll kill all of us!”

  “Is there a problem here?” The voice didn’t even faze Tim. Out of the corner of her eye, Talia saw that a tall, male goon had been drawn to them by the shouting. If she was going to rat him out, now was the time to do it… but she couldn’t. She knew the mix of anger and despair on his face, the helpless fear and indignation at being powerless.

  “No. He was just leaving,” Talia said, her gaze not shifting from Tim’s own glare.

  “Yeah,” he grunted. He pivoted and shoved his way past the goon.

  “You okay?” the goon asked. Talia nodded, watching Tim vanish further down the hallway. “The name’s Mat Bennetts,” he said, shoving his hand out. Talia took it with a degree of annoyance. “Mathew with one ‘t’.”

  “Talia.”

  He smiled with a wide, lopsided grin. Curly, dark hair dangled beneath his trilby hat, his young, fresh face at odds with his authoritative tone. “I know who you are.” He pushed the brim of his hat up a bit before winking at her. “My brothers and I love your show.” Jamming his thumb in the direction of the other three goons, she noticed that they were all looking at them, smiling the same way. In fact, the identical way: they were carbon copies of each other.

  “Quadruplets?”

  Mat nodded. “I’m the oldest.”

  “By an hour!” shouted Mat’s clone.

  Mat turned his head and shouted, “Shut up, Herbert!” His attention refocused on Talia as though nothing happened. “If you ever need anything, we’re here for you.”

  “Especially me!” another shouted.

  Talia politely smiled. “Thanks, but I think I can…” she trailed off. Something that Tim had said triggered something. “This sounds silly, but do you happen to have a hidden storage room?” At first, Mat’s face slacked to the point of seriousness. Then, a mischievous smirk curled his lips. The twinkle in his eye said the
rest.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  DECISIONS, DECISIONS

  “WE NEEDED A PLACE TO HOLD our poker games,” Mat said, leading the group down the basement hall. He was by far the easiest to identify, with his straight posture and quick smile. The others trailed after him, mostly quiet save for the occasional interjection.

  They meandered amidst walls devoid of art or fixtures, a seemingly endless stack of concrete repeating monotonously. Talia walked behind the four brothers, not paying attention to their path so much as reading the occasional door that drifted past them. Maintenance. Storage Room A. Maintenance. Storage Room B. It all seemed so redundant.

  “The break room was too crowded,” one of the carbon copies, Talia guessed Paul, added to Mat’s sentiment. “People would try to join us and take all our money.”

  Another turned to her, walking backward. She tried to remember if this one was Herbert or Steven, but she figured it didn’t matter. “Since we were hired only a month or so ago, we wanted to practice before participating in the official tourneys.”

  “Speak for yourselves,” Mat said with a degree of satisfaction. “Temped here the last months of the Academy,” he told Talia with a wink. “Told the boss about my siblings, and the rest is history.”

  A muffled snort of disbelief was barely audible behind her. “I think the rest of us were only hired for the novelty of it all,” said another brother as he kicked the floor. The leader responded by miming talking with his hand.

  They reached the door at the end of the corridor, where Mat turned to her, smiled, and swiped his keycard in a card reader embedded in the wall. The latch clicked, and Mat held the door open for his party. Talia found herself descending a staircase into a sub-basement, the cement walls giving way to a nicely wood-paneled variant. “Once you get to the ground level, it’ll be right in front of you,” Mat instructed, closing the door behind him.

  “I can’t believe Catalina would let you use the mob’s vault for something like poker.” Talia watched as the three boys in front of her reached the bottom and spread out.