by John McCrae
I saw one of the switches, then took hold of the knife.
“Keep it away from heat. If the growths start knuckling together, then it’s probably clogged at the air intake. You can unscrew the cap at the butt of the knife and access the air intake there. Bake it at roughly five hundred degrees to clear it, then thoroughly vacuum. Pay attention to how long it takes the growths to hit maximum length… you’ll know because the colors at the ends are a lighter gray. Three point seven seconds is the optimum time. If it takes shorter then you’ll know something’s wrong with-”
“The knife won’t degrade too much in the next day,” Dragon said. “And we have spares, thanks to Masamune.”
“You didn’t make this much of a fuss with my flight pack,” I said.
“I included documentation,” Defiant said.
“Thank you,” I said. I found the holster for my old knife, then put it through the belt at my back, holstering the new knife.
“Where’s the Dragonfly?” he asked. I pointed.
Dragon said something in Japanese to Masamune and Black Kaze. There were two nods.
Defiant led the way to the Dragonfly, all business, Dragon, Canary, Tattletale, and me following. He seemed almost happy to have something to focus on. A problem that could be solved.
Did he genuinely trust me? Was there a modicum of hope, here, with me mobilizing to go look into the Cauldron situation?
He continued to hold his weapon, though the fight wasn’t about to start.
I could imagine his outlook, the security the weapon afforded him, a hundred solutions in his hands. The ability to defend himself, to defend others, to move out of the way of danger. It made sense.
Dragon, conversely… what was her security blanket?
Different. I couldn’t put my thumb on it. But she’d lost to Saint, to the Dragonslayers. She’d been taken captive, effectively killed. Killed by a man who saw her as subhuman.
She’d been altered by Teacher. Not so much she was a slave to him, but something had happened, and that was no doubt a large part of how she was disconnected from reality in the here and now.
I looked back at Saint, Masamune and Black Kaze. Saint was taking a seat, his back to a chunk of destroyed aircraft, cross-legged. Calm, relaxed.
“How can you stand to be near them?” I asked.
“Keep your enemies closer,” Dragon said, her voice tight.
“Don’t forget about the friends part,” I said.
She shook her head a little. “I won’t.”
“When we were waiting for the fight to start, I went around, looking for people I needed to thank. Important people to me, people who I wasn’t sure I’d get a chance to talk to again. I missed a few important ones. My dad… you two. I know the only reason I got my shot at being a hero, the only reason I didn’t go to jail, was because you vouched for me, because you agreed to cart me back and forth and interrupt your schedule. I probably didn’t even deserve it, but you backed me up. I’m just… I’ve never been good at saying thank you and sounding as sincere as I feel.”
“I think we benefited as much as you did,” Dragon said. “You needed to join the Wards to… make amends, shall we say? It was the same for us.”
“For me,” Defiant cut in.
“I had my own regrets,” Dragon said.
“You had no choice.”
“Regrets nonetheless,” she said, again. Her head turned towards Canary, and Canary smiled just a little. Dragon then looked to me.
Was it possible for an artificial human to look weary? To look wounded, in the sense that she was bearing some grievous injury from recent events?
We’d stopped outside the Dragonfly. I bid the ramp to open, controlling the bugs in the operating mechanism.
Then, as it opened, I impulsively gave Dragon a hug. Returning a favor she’d given me some time ago.
“Let’s get you set up,” Defiant said.
“Hook me in while you’re at it?” Tattletale made it a question. “Whatever you need to do, so I can communicate with her and her peeps.”
“I’ll see to it.”
Tattletale glanced at me. “Ops?”
“Please.”
■
We circled twice before coming in for a landing. A cave just above water level, inaccessible except from the air.
The receiving party consisted of Exalt and Revel from the Protectorate core group, with half of the Vegas team. Nix, Leonid, Floret and Spur. Vantage was waving a rod around, listening to steady beeps.
“Oh god, finally. Something to take my mind off the beeping,” Floret said. She was petite, her hair in carefully layered waves of pink, with green at the roots.
“Find anything?” I asked.
“No signs of any portals that have been opened in the past. Harder than cracking Dodger’s gateways, apparently,” Vantage said. “Or they gave us bad instructions. How’re you doing, Weaver?”
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Wearing black,” he said.
“Is everyone going to comment on that?” I asked.
“It’s comment worthy. How’d the fight… nevermind. I can guess.”
“Probably,” I said.
“Grim group,” Floret commented. “I know black’s ‘in’ with the end of the world, but damn. Only one person with style.”
I looked over my shoulder. Golem, in silver and gunmetal, his mask solemn. Cuff, again, in a dark metal costume. Imp, with her dark gray mask and black bodysuit that actually fit her. Shadow Stalker, in a black, form-fitting bodysuit like the one I’d given Imp, along with a flowing cloak with a heavy hood. All spidersilk, but the mask was hers, as was the crossbow. Rachel followed, her jacket, tank top and pants black, only the fur ruff at her shoulders, where it flowed around the edges of her hood, was white. Huntress and Bastard flanked her. Lung was still inside the Dragonfly, but I knew he had only his mask and jeans on. Barefoot, shirtless.
Canary was the only one, apparently, who met Floret’s standards. Yellow body armor, her helmet in one hand, her hair and feathers free.
“I remember you,” Spur said. He smiled. Teeth that had been professionally done, no doubt. He wasn’t bad looking, but not quite my type. Spiky hair, and a costume that mingled barbed wire tattoos with real barbed wire, where his skin was exposed. Mid twenties, with hair bleached to a near-white and acid washed jeans. His mask was simple, black, covering the upper half of his face, with only a circle of barbed wire at the brow. A trademark of thinker powers, to do the whole forehead thing. A precog who was most effective in the midst of chaos and heightened emotions, and fairly competent otherwise. “Bad Canary?”
Canary’s eyes widened. “You remember my stage name?”
“You were famous,” he said. “The whole trial thing. You-”
Canary’s expression fell.
“-got robbed,” he said.
“Dick,” Floret said. “Like that’s how she wants to be remembered.”
“I remember the music too,” he protested.
“Yeah,” Canary said. She rubbed the back of her neck, avoiding eye contact. “It doesn’t matter anyways, does it? Long time ago, and we’ve got better things to worry about.”
“Vulgarishous,” he said. “Ur-sound? Lineless?”
“You’re probably cheating,” she said.
“I could sing the lyrics,” he answered.
“It would make me sure you’re cheating. I barely remember the lyrics.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” Spur answered her. “Eh, guys? Back me up. My power doesn’t give me a way to cheat, does it?”
“No,” Floret said. “He’s genuine. And none of us have ways to clue him in.”
I glanced at Revel, who only rolled her eyes a little. Exalt looked bored. He saw me looking and commented, “It’s fine here. We’re using substandard tools to find a portal that used to exist, and we don’t know exactly where it was.”
Imp pushed her mask up until it sat on top of her head. “Finding a trans
parent needle outside of the haystack.”
“Well put,” Leonine said.
“Don’t encourage her,” I told him.
He only smiled, which made Imp smirk at me in turn.
Spur was murmuring the lyrics to the song, and he was actually doing a good job of it. Canary was trying to look like she wasn’t pleased as punch. It was cute. Cute and just a little ominous, considering who these guys were.
Some things had come to light after they’d departed their positions in the Protectorate and Wards. Nothing definitive, but it raised questions that had yet to be answered. Questions that would probably never be answered, now that evidence lockers and court records throughout Earth Bet had been obliterated. Problems that had resolved themselves just a little too neatly. People, both bad guys and witnesses, who’d disappeared.
“If I’m the lion, and you’re the goat…” Leonine was saying.
“I guarantee I’m more dangerous than you,” Imp retorted.
I could sense others in the group getting restless.
“We’ll let you know if anything turns up,” Revel said, as if she’d sensed it. She smiled a little, a bit awkward, or apologetic. “Don’t let us waste your time. It’s the end of the world, spend it with people you care about.”
Her eyes moved to Cuff and Golem, who were hanging back. The pair were the heroes of our group, so to speak. They’d feel the betrayal of the Vegas capes more sharply, even now. They looked at each other.
I did too. Not that I counted myself as a hero. But I’d been there.
“I could come with,” Exalt said. “If you’re going back. I’m only here to relieve Revel. I’ll be able to participate in the coming fight.”
“Sure,” I said. “But I’d like to hear the password. From Revel.”
“Good thinking. Belord, six-two, spauld,” she said.
“On my seventeenth birthday,” I said. “What color was the cake?”
“Seriously?” she asked. “Do you even remember? I should get a brownie point for this one. Because I care about my Wards. It was white.”
“The frosting?” I asked.
“Blue,” she said, sounding just a bit put out. “And you barely ate any.”
I nodded, satisfied. “And… Leonine.”
“Me?“ Leonine laughed a bit. “What kind of shenanigans do you think we’re pulling?”
“He’s one of the Vegas capes,” Imp said, speaking very slowly, like I was mentally disabled.
“I know he’s one of the Vegas capes. But I think I have to cover all of the bases. Who was your kindergarten teacher?”
“You researched that?” Spur asked. “Dug through our entire histories to find something obscure?”
He sounded offended. Every head had turned his way.
“Do you have a problem with that?” I asked.
He frowned, but he shook his head, sticking his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the wall beside Canary. “No. No problem.”
“Richie,” Leonine said. “Mrs. Richie.”
“Great,” I said. “Great. Now let’s drop the fucking act.”
“I gave you the answer you wanted,” Leonine said, smirking. “What the fuck?”
“Spur?” I said, “Raise your right hand?”
He did. There were bugs on the fingers.
“He was moving his hand. A one-handed sign language. I assume everyone on your team knows it.”
“I was thinking of Canary’s music,” Spur told me. He stepped forward, putting a hand on Canary’s shoulder as he did so. She turned, so they were both facing me. “Piano keys. Mnemonic tool. That is something our team uses.”
“You’re being a little crazy paranoid,” Imp said. “Just a little.”
“They’ve been playing us since the start,” I said. “The men were batting their eyelashes at you and Canary, probably the targets they thought they could work. Revel… I’d think she’s under some kind of compulsion.”
“A lot crazy,” Imp said. “Way crazy.”
“Maybe Tattletale can chime in,” I suggested. “Tattle?”
“Mostly right. Exalt, Revel, Vantage, Leonine, Floret, all fakes.”
“No shit,” Imp said. Her mouth dropped open. “No way.”
“Jig’s up,” I said. “We know.”
One by one, the Vegas capes changed. Flesh altered, and they assumed identical appearances.
Six copies of Satyrical. Leaving only Spur and Nix.
One of the Satyricals looked at the two who remained. “Take care of yourself. I’ll see you shortly.”
“I know,” Spur said.
Satyr looked at us, as if taking us all in. “And you, I suppose, we’ll run into. Sooner or later.”
Then the Satyrs died. Flesh withered, and the Satyrs crumpled up. They made bloody messes as they hit the ground, like overripe tomatoes might, but with teeth and the occasional bit of withered organ.
Self duplication, and each duplicate had shapeshifting abilities.
I bent down and picked up the devices from the heads of Revel, Exalt and Vantage’s clones. Earbuds, phones…
“Revel,” Cuff said, her voice small.
“Where are the real ones?” Golem asked.
“With the real Satyr,” I guessed.
“And how did he know the passwords?” Golem asked.
“He guessed the cake thing through cold reading. White with blue, like Weaver’s costume. Made sense. That Taylor didn’t eat much… well, look at her. The rest… torture? Coercion through other means?”
“Torture?” I asked.
Spur raised his chin a bit, but didn’t do or say anything to suggest otherwise.
“Ew.” Imp said, under her breath, “Ew, ew, ew. He’s like, forty? And he was hitting on me.”
“Where’s the portal?” I asked Spur, ignoring Imp.
“No portal. Or weren’t you paying attention?”
I looked at Nix. “You know where this goes, if you don’t cooperate. Circumstances are a little too dire. We knock you out, your power fades. So why don’t you drop the illusion and let us see the portal?”
“My power stays up while I’m out,” she said.
I drew my knife. The one that wasn’t special.
“Woah,” Golem said. He put his hand on my wrist. “Woah, woah, woah.”
“She’s bluffing,” Spur said, unfazed. “She’s scary, she’s got a reputation, but she’s bluffing here. There’s no way she follows through.”
“I think you’re badly underestimating how pissed off I am,” I said. I was surprised at just how right I was. The mounting anger caught me off guard. “Doing this, screwing around, stabbing people in the back, screwing with the system when we’re trying to save humanity?”
“We’re saving it too,” Spur said. “Satyr, the others, they’ve got this situation handled. Give them… two or three more hours, and the threats are going to be dealt with, Cauldron will be secure, or as secure as they can be, after you account for injuries and deaths at the hands of the invading group. You go in there, you’re just going to muck up a delicate exfiltration operation.”
“Invading?” Golem asked.
“The deviants. The case-fifty-threes. Weld’s group.”
Weld? No. He’d been one of the only decent ones out there, during my stay in Brockton Bay. Respectable, honest, kind. He’d saluted me the first time we’d crossed paths, because we were both going up against an Endbringer.
Fuck it all.
Either Spur was fucking with me, or things were fucked. Fuck it all.
“People like you are the reason we deserve to lose,” I said, gripping the knife. “Every step of the way, it’s been people refusing to cooperate, refusing to talk plain truth. From day one, even. You’re the reason humanity deserves to get wiped out.”
“Great,” he said. “You’re still not going to use that knife on either of us.”
It was said with the smug tone of someone who could see the future.
I glanced at Canary. I could see th
e hurt on her face.
“I get it,” Spur said. “See it coming. If it helps, I do remember the music.”
Rachel stepped forward, giving me a little push to get me out of the way, and then slugged him.
He dropped, unconscious.
Golem set about binding him to the cave floor with hands of stone.
I looked at Nix. “Her too.”
Golem reached into his costume, and hands of stone gripped Nix.
“To the ceiling,” I decided, at the last second.
“Sure,” Golem said. Hands of stone emerged, passing Nix up. She struggled a bit, but she was at an unsafe height by the time she realized what he was doing.
She was bound to the cave ceiling with armholds, leg holds and an arm set across her collarbone.
“What the hell?” she asked.
“I don’t think any of your friends have powers that can break those hands,” I said.
“The hell?” she asked, again. She tested her bonds. “The fuck?”
“You better hope we make it out okay,” I said. “Tattletale?”
“Pretty sure it’s to your left. Start by going ten paces that way.”
I nodded.
We followed the directions.
The illusion broke, dissolving into harmless smoke, as we reached it and pressed hard enough against the wall in question.
With the barrier gone, I could feel the warm air from within, see a dark hallway without lights.
I looked at my teammates.
Maybe humanity deserves to lose, but these guys are why we’re going to win, I promised myself.
29.04
Lights flickered as we made our way inside.
It looked like a hospital, but not an abandoned one. Things were pristine, the walls and tiled floor a clean, untouched white. It wasn’t a place that had been left to deteriorate. The stark, clean nature of the place made for a contrast where the damage had been done. There were gouges in the walls, things torn free from walls and ceilings. Scorch marks, from both acid and fire, and damaged chairs, cabinets and lockers.
I noted the contents of the lockers and cabinets that had been torn open. Glass vials, empty, clear fluids, medical tools still in plastic wrappers with paper covers that could be torn away. But for the disorganization, it was all in excellent condition. It didn’t look like it had even been touched.