Project Northwoods

by Jonathan Charles Bruce

  “It’s about my father,” Ariana said.

  Catalina stopped in her tracks. She cocked her head. “You found Aeschylus?”

  Arthur could feel his companion tremble slightly, reassuring him that he was not alone in his own palpable fear. “We were hoping you knew.” Ariana’s voice barely shook, but remained hoarse from earlier.

  Catalina resumed descending the stairs. “He fell off our radar the night we got back into town.” Her voice was so nonchalant that Arthur found himself scanning it for notes of sympathy, antipathy, anything to mark her as human. “It’d be nice to make sure he was still causing havoc.”

  “Sorry to have wasted your time, then,” Arthur said, grabbing Ariana’s wrist. There was something different about her… or maybe nothing was different and Catalina had always been this way. In either case, Arthur wanted to run. “We’ll just leave you…”

  He turned, but now the goons had closed the circle, just enough to make sure their presence was known. Catalina was striding on the ground floor now, past the flares and her men, and smoothly pulling out her sidearm. “Didn’t you used to have a moppet with you?” she asked as, much to Arthur’s relief, she walked past him. “Kind of a Dickensian, street-urchin type?” She spun on her heel and cocked her head, making his stomach clench in fear. “And what about your talking cold?”

  I have my reasons. Agent Mast’s words repeated in Arthur’s head. “The Enforcers got her.” He squeezed Ariana’s hand as if to transmit the lie.

  “We haven’t seen anyone else in days,” Ariana said.

  The briefest of pauses only seemed to make things worse. “Mollie caught a bullet the night of the escape. I wasn’t able to save her.”

  Catalina squinted at them. She sighed deeply, then brought the gun up under her chin as though contemplating something. “It’s the lying that hurts the most.” In a flash, she clubbed the gun across Ariana’s face. The younger woman crumpled to the ground and Arthur darted forward only to be grabbed by an unseen mobster. Catalina knelt to Ariana, put the gun to the woman’s head, and looked up at Arthur. “What are you hiding?”

  “What’s going on here?” Allison’s voice cut through the darkness, drawing attention to the top of the stairs. She vaulted down the stairs impatiently. “Arthur!” she called out halfway down. She practically sprinted into the circle of light, watching Catalina rise. “Lighten up, sis. Remember what the union rep said about slapping around the goons?”

  “This doesn’t concern you, Allison,” Catalina chided.

  Allison scoffed. “It doesn’t concern the head of the Italian Mob?” She gave a dismissive wave of her hand as she crossed to Ariana and helped her rise to her feet. “Some lost members have returned. It couldn’t have been easy to find us, always shifting around.” She brushed off Ariana’s clothes before turning toward Arthur. “Let me tell you, it’s good to see you back. What’s the plan now?”

  Arthur didn’t quite know how to take this development. “Well…”

  “We have a plan,” Catalina growled.

  Allison gave a wave of her hand. “Waiting around for this to blow over isn’t a plan.” She chuckled at the thought. “I thought you had more smartitude than that.” Looking over at Catalina, she made a very visible eye roll. “That’s why you aren’t in charge.”

  Arthur tensed the moment she said that as Catalina’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Without a word, she snapped the fingers on her free hand and made a sweeping gesture. The goons raised their weapons and trained them on the three encircled. Arthur and Ariana moved closer together while Allison remained unfazed. “This isn’t going well,” Ariana muttered.

  “Kind of an understatement,” Arthur replied. Something that looked like a figure darted through the light pouring in the door, but he dismissed it as his imagination.

  “Men, please,” Allison began with a gesture to lower their weapons. The smile on her face had the same appearance that she would have given to overly-excited children. “Let’s hear what Arthur has to say before we get ready.”

  Catalina paced near the outer edge of the circle. “We aren’t doing anything he says.”

  Allison cocked her head. “You haven’t come up with any ideas since he left. We’ve been shuttling around from shelter to shelter while you and Mat sulk around like it’s the end of the world.” Her tone was playful.

  Her sister’s was not. “It is the end of the world, you useless twat.” She strode forward and stared into her sister’s face. Catalina gave a wide, sharky smile. “And whatever’s left, I’m taking.”

  Allison cocked an eyebrow, apparently unaware of what was going on. “If that’s how you want to roll, fine.” She turned around and hooked arms with Arthur, who gave a grunt of protest before quieting down. “But the goons and I are anxious to fight.” She smiled triumphantly. “Isn’t that right?” she called out. No one responded, opting to continue staring down the sights of their guns. Allison’s smile faded. “What’s going on?”

  “She gets it now?” Ariana grunted under her breath.

  “You can’t do this!” Allison shouted at Catalina, taking a step forward.

  Catalina gave a haughty laugh, momentarily joined by the goons giving a sympathetic chuckle. “It’s been done, Allie. Years ago.” She pulled the hammer on her gun. “But I guess you can consider this my two weeks’ notice.”

  Agent Mast was growing progressively more impatient, checking her watch every few moments. This unnerved Stair more than the vacant streets or the quiet that had become the constant companion of New York City’s Villain Zone. “He should have contacted me by now,” she muttered to herself.

  “Relax, already,” Stair hissed. She didn’t mean to be as sharp as she came off, but she was angry at the maternal protection Mast had already shown toward her. It felt unnecessary and condescending, especially considering how much she had lived through in the past few weeks.

  Instead of snapping back, which is what Stair anticipated… wanted, truth be told… the woman just looked over her shoulder and gave a strange little smirk before returning to her icy seriousness. “Should have brought the shotgun mic.”

  Stair arched her eyebrows and gave a half-laugh of frustration as she considered going after Arthur. The scrape of shoes on pavement followed by the hiss of hushed voices froze Stair in place. Shit, someone’s here! she screamed mentally, her voice caught in her throat. The teenager was suddenly very grateful for the woman with the gun already shielding her.

  Agent Mast must have seen someone down the alleyway, for she tensed up immediately. “Stop!” was all she was able to shout when a black-clad figure bounded down the alley, leaping from wall to wall before landing in a crouch in front of the two of them.

  The Queen of the Dead stood upright and offered a self-assured, half-cocked smile. “A pleasure to see you again, Diane.”

  Allison went from twitching to frenzied. “This is treason!” She looked wildly between her former subordinates. “You can’t do this! I’m the head of the Mob!”

  “Not anymore, bitch,” Catalina said, bringing her gun to bear at her sister.

  “Don’t move, Catalina,” came an authoritative male voice from the darkness, startling the already tense group. “You and your men will lower their weapons, understood?”

  Catalina nodded, and slowly, the armed mobsters obliged. “To whom do I owe the honor of hosting?” Catalina asked, clearly annoyed.

  From the darkness, the outline of an Enforcer emerged, then solidified into who Arthur recognized as the colonel who had visited his apartment complex weeks ago. He had an automatic weapon trained on Catalina while a dirty compatriot materialized from behind him, the gun in his hands darting between mobsters. “I am Colonel Morant of the Enforcers.”

  Catalina immediately seized up, her face twitching. “What… you have no authority anymore.” Arthur’s ears pricked at the statement.

  Morant slowed his gait for a moment, then continued toward the mob boss. “I have authority enough.” He reached a safe
distance, cast a glance at the three still trapped in the middle of the group, then returned his attention to her. “What’s going on here?”

  Catalina cocked an eyebrow and snorted in disgust. “I’m in the middle of a meeting.”

  “Tell me you’re not buying that,” the man with the rifle said. His eyes fell to Ariana and he smiled with a wink.

  “It is you,” Ariana said with an exasperated grunt of recognition.

  “Clearly you’re in no position to help anyone with your petty power struggles,” Morant chided. “We’ll take your hostages and be on our way.”

  “We’re not hostages!” Allison shouted, returning her hateful glare to her sister. “We’re just negotiating.”

  “Negotiating,” Catalina cooed. “I like that word. You put up an offer such as, say, my hostages…” She gestured with her gun hand. “And I present a counter-point, such as highlighting I have twelve armed gunmen compared to your two.” A thin smile creased her lips and the goons raised their weapons. “The demand being you drop your weapons, hero.”

  The sound of glass shattering and the thump of a body hitting the floor punctuated the air. Attention whirled toward the noise. Jack Cleese, righting himself after pilfering the downed mobster’s weapon, stood in the haze of the flares. “Since he couldn’t hold his booze, the fight’s eleven to three, my dear.”

  Catalina rolled her eyes. “Just one more to shoot, old man.”

  “You can’t possibly be considering this,” Gunslinger said.

  Arbiter didn’t turn to regard her, but he knew that she must have gone pale. As much as he wanted to rail against her for her cowardice, he knew she hadn’t seen the horrors he had. The brutality of villains, their constant treachery and false promises. She had grown up with the sham of peace and knew no other measures than what could pitiably be called defiance by those in the Fort.

  “Gunslinger, this needs to be done,” Claymore said, his voice firm, but quiet. The boy knew. It took murdering in self-defense, losing a hand and a foot, and a fellow hero shot in the head right in front of him… but he knew.

  “Please, we can capture the remaining villains… the Italian Mob…” Her voice grew louder, and suddenly she moved to his side, trying to gain his attention. “My father wouldn’t want this.”

  “Your father was murdered by these dogs!” Constantine nearly roared. He was behind Gunslinger now, so close as to render her tiny in comparison. Drunk on the moment, Arbiter tilted his head sideways just enough to keep them in eyeshot. “You would speak on their behalf?”

  She turned to face him, suddenly realizing the size differential. “Killing these people won’t get me any closer to knowing why my father was murdered.”

  “That is no longer of consequence,” Arbiter said, his voice low.

  Gunslinger turned to him, shocked. “Wh-what do you mean?”

  “Men and women are dying every day these animals continue to breathe,” Arbiter said. His voice reflected no animosity, merely his point of view. “The ‘why’ of your father’s murder is no longer important. Just the event itself.”

  She said nothing and just stared. He didn’t feel the need to look at her. She was young, passionate, and liberal education had stymied her ability to look beyond petty personal feelings and see the world at large.

  He would correct this shortcoming in a little over five minutes.

  “You can’t do this, Catalina!” Ariana shouted.

  “And why not?” Catalina barked with a laugh. “I am having the time of my life.” She practically whirled in place, hands in the air. “No rules to live by, no longer having to pretend I’m second fiddle to a broken flute, no longer having to organize the entire workings of a mob while making nice with the authorities…” She stopped, her back to the entrance, facing the assembled. “I am the fucking queen of this town!” Catalina twitched, and her smile grew deathly serious. Moments passed when no one moved, except to cast nervous glances at one another.

  Allison whispered in Arthur’s ear, sending a prickle of misplaced panic into his chest, “Did she just call me stupid?”

  “Yes,” Arthur confirmed.

  Allison sneered in annoyance.

  Catalina seemed to snap back to reality. “Mat, grab Arthur and take him out back.” Her voice was terrifying, authoritarian and hard. “We’ll handle the others.” When the thump of boots on the stairwell announced Mat’s movement, Colonel Morant’s gun immediately followed the noise.

  Agent Mast lost Zombress’s attention, the taller woman’s gaze now on the Guild. “I think we need to end our Q and A prematurely, Diane.” To Stair’s surprise, the Agent didn’t even bother to ask questions. Instead, she nodded and went sprinting off toward the Super Villains’ Guild. Zombress turned toward the others, a girl introduced as Morgan and a poorly-dressed young man named Steven who claimed to be an Italian mobster. “Morgan, protect the girl. Steven, try to keep up.”

  She disappeared in a black flash, sprinting quickly after Agent Mast. Steven ran out after them, half-shouting “Sorry!” as he shot out of the alley.

  Stair muttered dumbfounded for a moment, trailing after them before turning to her newest supervisor. She pointed at the rapidly disappearing forms. “We need to go with them.”

  “She said to stay put,” Morgan said, folding her arms. “So I’m staying put.”

  “Belay that order, Mat!” Allison shouted, pivoting around to put herself between Arthur and Mat.

  “I haven’t been on your payroll for some time, ma’am,” Mat said indifferently. “No hard feelings.”

  Arthur turned to Catalina. “I’m not going anywhere without my friends.” As an afterthought, he jutted his head toward Cleese. “And Mr. Cleese.”

  “Good on ya, lad!” the Brit shouted.

  “I hate to tell you this Art, but these people aren’t your friends.” Catalina’s voice lacked any sense of humor or snarkiness. “No one likes you, and in about five minutes, these people will be dead.” She brought her weapon up toward Arthur. “So how about you–”

  Someone collided with Catalina, yanking her gun hand downward. She tried to swing a punch with her free hand, but it was deflected with an errant arm. Agent Mast yanked the mobster close and headbutted her, splattering the agent’s strawberry-blond hair with blood. The attention of the mobsters went right toward the two women and they charged. Morant took the opportunity to smash the butt of his rifle across a goon’s face while his accomplice stomped out another’s kneecap. Cleese brandished his gun like a club and brought down another. Mast and Catalina were still fighting, if it could be called that: the BVH woman had plenty of time to administer a blow to her victim’s face before pulling out her sidearm and shooting the two closest mobsters in the shins.

  One of the mobsters went flying backward when a black miasma that could be identified as Zombress shoulder-rammed him into the air. So quick as to be unnoticed, she pinwheeled to the side and leapt upwards only to bring her fist down, flattening another goon. She grabbed the now unconscious victim by the leg and flung him into two more mobsters closing in on Mast before snapping toward the closest remaining goon and grabbing him by the neck, lifting him effortlessly into the air, and crushing his windpipe. Blood gushed from his mouth and his eyes rolled back into his head before Zombress cast him aside as though brushing aside a twitching piece of lint.

  Mat was the only one left standing, defiantly keeping his gun trained on Arthur despite all available weapons being trained on him. “Miss Capone, I need your orders!” he shouted. Steven slowly emerged from the shadows, shocked at the sight of his brother trying to keep people in his sights. Mat apparently didn’t see the look of betrayal. “Help Catalina,” he ordered, aiming rapidly between Arthur, Allison, and Morant.

  Steven shook his head. “What happened to you?” Without another word, he ripped Mat’s gun out of his hands and walked away, letting the others keep him from doing anything.

  “She signs your fucking paychecks!” Mat shouted, furious.

&n
bsp; Steven turned to him, face twitching. “This is bigger than a paycheck.” He was clearly out of his depth with the situation he found himself in. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Mat’s face was growing redder. “You coward,” he called after Steven, even though he was already fading from sight. “You’re a coward!” he yelled, the echo filling the darkness.

  Mast rose, dragging Catalina upright, the latter’s face bloodied. The Agent threw her forward. The mobster began to laugh. “BVH cunt,” she said, blood splattering onto the floor. “Y-you can’t be involved with this.”

  “Watch me,” she said, delivering another kick to Catalina’s side. “We’re leaving. Now.”

  “Couldn’t agree more, madam,” Jack said as he jogged toward the exit.

  Catalina struggled to get up, rising to her knees as those left standing gave her a wide berth. “You’re… you’re going to regret this!” She shouted. “I’m the fucking queen of this town!” She laughed as Arthur walked around her. They briefly made eye contact, and a smile crossed her lips, wide and red. “You should have listened to me.” She blinked, slowly. “You’re dead, Arthur!” Her teeth shone pink with blood as she smiled widely. “You! Are! Fucking! Dead!”

  Arthur stared at her before Morant brushed by him. He turned away and followed the others, trying to ignore Catalina’s escalating laughter.

  The clock had long since passed the three minute mark, when Overseer chimed in that lack of input in the control grid would result in automatic target acquisition. Arbiter had targeted the static image of the Villains’ Guild, the reticles being adjusted in width to make sure the blast was just large enough to drill the building away into nothingness.