“Bullshit.”
“If I was her, why haven’t I kicked your ass? Why am I letting you attack me?”
“It’s just another game. Get my hopes up. Then fuck me up as soon as I let my guard down.”
“Come on! We’re linked together. My connection to my Mark is working on you; that’s how I found you.”
Except Mark had couldn’t feel that connection. She could feel his fear and despair, but he couldn’t feel anything from her.
“If you let me in, let me fix our psychic link, you can see the truth for yourself.”
He hesitated. If he did that, she could hurt him even worse.
“Mark, let’s be logical. If I’m the evil bitch, blocking me isn’t going to save you, is it?”
“Guess not. Guess I’m fucked either way.” The bleakness in his voice and aura broke her heart. “Fine. You win.”
He lowered his defenses.
Even with his cooperation, it was hard to reopen the link. He’d all but destroyed it, during the final fight with Mister Night, only in this world he’d done so a little too late to keep his Christine from being corrupted. It had never been reestablished, because, trite as it sounded, it could only work between two people who loved each other, and that love had died over New York on that terrible day. She had to push through the little trickle of a connection that had alerted her to his presence, heal it, and allow it to grow back.
As soon as that happened, Mark fell to his knees.
It’s you. It’s you, the real you. Christine.
It was the saddest, most beautiful moment in her life. It was like coming home after you’d given up any hope you ever would, like being told the terminal illness consuming you had miraculously disappeared, like having every loss in your life made good. His love for her was overwhelming, all-consuming.
He rushed towards her, not to try to kill her this time, and she met him halfway. He made a face, and they kissed.
The hardest part was getting out of Snipe’s leather armor.
Dreamland, July 19, 2014
“So there you go. I cheated on you,” she said, turning her back on the two phantoms making love in the ashes and dirt.
“With me,” Mark said. He wasn’t angry. He was incredibly sad, sadder than he’d ever been, but he wasn’t angry. He hugged her tightly.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“Sorry? For giving that poor fuck what he needed? Shit. That poor fuck was me. You got him out of hell. How the fuck could I resent that?”
A wave of some indefinable emotion – relief, maybe; happiness that he didn’t hate her – washed over her. They were both sobbing as they held each other.
“There’s more, Mark,” she said after she’d cried herself out.
“Poor bastard didn’t make it, did he?”
She shook her head and discovered she hadn’t quite cried herself out.
“But at least he had that time with you. You gave him that. Whatever happened to him, he had that. Thank you.”
“I love you, Mark.”
“And I love you.”
Face-Off
Freedom Island, Caribbean Sea, July 19, 2014
We had to take a break after that.
Part of me wanted to be glib about it. Help, I’ve fallen into a chick flick, and I can’t get out. I couldn’t do it, though. I was beginning to understand what the whole love stuff was about. It wasn’t about sex or possessiveness or the happy-dopey bullshit that was mostly hormones and endorphins shutting down your brain. It was a mingling of lives until you weren’t sure where you ended and the other person began. It wasn’t pleasant, or comfortable, or predictable. When it was good, it was the best possible thing. But it didn’t come free. Not free at all.
We just cuddled and cried for a good while, then agreed we should get some fresh air and recharge our psyches before she finished the rest of her story. It sounded like a good idea, and yet I started to miss her about five minutes after we went our separate ways.
I sort of wanted to call Condor and talk about it, but this wasn’t the kind of thing guys could talk about without embarrassing themselves to death. At least not the guys I knew, including myself. And if not him, who? All the friends I could have confided in were dead. And I hadn’t exactly cultivated any friendships in the Legion. Closest thing to a buddy there was Hyperia, and ever since she’d hooked up with Ultimate, that friendship had run into a wall.
Talking was probably overrated anyway. For the most part, people just wanted to whine about whatever ailed them in front of someone who’d smile, nod and say whatever the whining party wanted to hear. I could get a dog and get the same results, with the added bonus the dog would genuinely love me simply because I fed him.
So instead of finding someone to talk to, human or canine, I just flew around the island, making sure I stayed off commercial flight lanes. It was still a novel experience, after years of getting around by stealing cars, taking the subway, or leaping from rooftop to rooftop, and it helped clear my head. After an hour or so, I felt better, if not quite ready for another ride on the emotional rollercoaster.
I realized I’d made a decision of sorts along the way. And that meant there was somebody I should talk to before going back to Christine.
* * *
Adam Slaughter-Trent was spending his Saturday afternoon doing mad scientist stuff in his workshop, of course. I found him bent over a designing table, fingers flying over the giant touchscreen on its surface, giving shape to some gizmo I couldn’t even begin to describe, let alone understand. For all I knew, it might be able to shrink tumors, blow up asteroids, or maybe do both depending on which way you turned the dials.
He didn’t look thrilled to see me. That didn’t bother me. Few people like it when I drop by.
“What can I do for you, Mark?” His tone wasn’t exactly welcoming, either.
“It’s about Christine,” I said, and that changed his attitude. Cold fish and creepy as the guy was, he did care for his daughter-sister-niece.
“Is everything all right?”
“Not really, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. You’re the only family she has here.”
“Technically, Justice Princess is a genetic relative as well,” Adam said.
“Yeah, but they don’t exactly exchange Christmas cards, do they?” The Princess found the whole thing disturbing and wanted no part of Christine. Maybe if their first encounter hadn’t ended with Christine kicking her ass, things might have turned out differently. “You’re the only relative who gives a damn.”
“True enough.”
“So, well... That’s why I’m here.”
“Yes?”
“To ask for your blessing.”
“Ah.”
“I’m not going to do it right away. I haven’t even gone shopping for a ring or anything. But I figured I should get the ball rolling.”
“I see.”
“I know we’ve only been together for less than a year, a lot less when you take out the time I was sort of dead. And her coma. So, less than a year.”
“There is that.”
“But, I don’t think that’s an issue.”
“You love her.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah.”
“And she reciprocates. That’s obvious even to me, and I’m not adept at those kinds of social interaction.”
“Me either, when it comes to that. I’d much rather beat some assholes to a pulp.”
Adam grinned, and there was more than a hint of the Lurker in that grin. “I can sympathize with that.”
“But yeah, she feels the same way I do. Probably bad judgment on her part, but what can you do?”
“Nothing much. For whatever it’s worth, you have my blessing, Mark. You’re a good man. Some rough edges here and there, but a good man nonetheless.”
“Thank you.”
It was weird. I didn’t exactly go around fishing for compliments, mostly because I didn’t give a fuck what most people though
t of me, but hearing Adam’s words actually meant a lot.
“I have no doubt you’ll make her happy.”
“Even if it kills me.”
“And I suppose the customary thing is for me to threaten you with bodily harm if you ever make her unhappy.”
Even now that I was a top-tier Neo, I wouldn’t want an amalgam of the Lurker and Doc Slaughter to come gunning for me.
“If I ever screw things up with her, I hope you fuck me up good. I’d have it coming.”
“Good. Then it’s settled.”
Adam stepped forward and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Welcome to the family. Assuming she says yes, of course.”
“Well, there is that.”
I still wasn’t looking forward to experiencing the rest of Christine’s story, but now I could see a light at the end of that tunnel.
* * *
I was heading home when I got an e-mail. Marked urgent. From Ultimate.
For a second, I considered letting it sit in my inbox until Monday, but something made me open it. The message had a video attachment, and it read:
She is mine. This video makes it clear. I suggest you make your peace with this and let us be.
I ordered my comm implant to open the attachment. The video played right into my notional eyes.
I watched Christine and Ultimate fucking like mad weasels in heat. Doing it rough, doing the kind of things Condor and Kestrel would call good clean fun.
Something went click inside my head.
The Freedom Legion
Freedom Island, Caribbean Sea, July 19, 2014
Breakups are never easy, but they rarely involve fights to the death.
“Ali, we need to talk.”
“Yeah, we do.”
It all started normally enough. Not wonderful, but normal-like. Ali had been through her share of failed relationships – fewer than one would expect, given her age, but still – and knew what was coming. Or at least, thought she knew. The look on John’s face pretty much told the story: equal parts embarrassment and shame.
“Come on, let’s get some fresh air,” she said. She definitely didn’t want to have it out inside Freedom Hall, where there were too many ears around, human and electronic. They ended up strolling along Remembrance Park, a nice patch of neatly cultivated vegetation that was off-limits to the public. That was where Legionnaires went for some outdoors peace and quiet.
The park wasn’t empty, of course: several Legionnaires were enjoying the place, a couple of them with their families. Ali watched them wistfully, hoping there wouldn’t be any yelling before they were done; she didn’t want to disturb her colleagues.
“We can go somewhere more private,” John said, following her glance. “No need to hash this out in front of an audience.”
“It’s fine. We’re both grownups. I’m not planning on raising my voice. Are you?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Then as far as everyone is concerned, we’re just having a nice chat while enjoying some sunlight. So, John, how long have you been cheating on me?”
He didn’t hesitate. “A few days. It happened twice. More if you count a few phone calls and text messages.”
She was pretty impressed with him despite herself. At least he just laid it all out.
“Who was it?”
It took him a moment to fess that up. Ali realized he hadn’t been running around with some fan-girl; this wasn’t a meaningless tryst.
“Christine,” he finally said.
“Jesus fucking Christ, John!” she hissed at him. Not raising her voice was turning out to be much harder than she’d thought.
“I don’t expect you to understand,” he said.
“I don’t. You’ve been seeing her behind Martinez’s back? How do you think that’s going to turn out?”
“Christine is breaking up with him even as we speak. Yes, we should have been up front about it. I agree. Things, well…”
“Don’t even try to say things just happened, John. Things don’t just happen. You make them happen.”
He slumped and lowered his head in shame. “You are right. I made a huge mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ve never been a cheater. I’ve never been one to abide cheaters. There is no excuse. I am so very sorry, Ali.”
“I accept your apology,” she said. “I’ll drop by your place tomorrow afternoon to pick up my things. Try not to be there when I do. You can change the key codes after that.”
“Ali…”
“We’re done. You were right. I deserve better. And you should consider getting more therapy, John. This kind of behavior isn’t like you at all, and after last year’s mess, that should worry you as much as…”
“Wait.”
Ali stopped talking. John’s head was tilted up as if he was listening to something. His hearing was a lot better than hers, so he probably was.
A moment later, someone landed in front of them.
Mark Martinez. Face or no face, he was clearly in a fighting mood. The cat was out of the bag.
“Martinez…” John started to say.
“Fuck you, asshole.’
The ex-vigilante shouldn’t have been able to sucker-punch John, but sucker-punch him he did, delivering a supersonic right hook that landed with an explosive crack that shook the entire area around the point of impact. John went flying into the air, although that was probably on purpose, moving the fight away from any potential collateral damage. Face-Off followed him.
So did Ali. She didn’t intend to break up the fight, at least not immediately. It might be best to let the two idiots blow off some steam hammering on each other. It should be safe enough; she was positive they could survive pretty much anything they dished out.
They were doing their level best to prove her wrong, though.
They grappled in the sky for a few seconds, trading jabs and head-butts before breaking free, opening up some distance between each other. Then they charged, two speeding bullets on a collision course. Even from half a mile away, the crash made Ali’s teeth vibrate. Hurricane-force winds washed over her as the two combatants bounced off each other and ended up a couple of miles apart. As soon as they regained control, they went at it again.
Another massive slam. And another. A flurry of punches at close range, followed by a third fly-apart and crash-together display of power and stupidity. Ali started to revise her assessment. They weren’t holding anything back. Someone was going to get hurt. Probably Face-Off, but even John couldn’t take that kind of battering indefinitely. This was getting ugly.
There was little she could do about it. Punching them out would just be adding to the carnage. Instead, she used her comm. This was a job for Freedom Squad One.
Even if a third of the team was busy trying to kill each other.
Hunters and Hunted
Freedom Island, Caribbean Sea, July 19, 2014
They hovered in the air, a few miles away from the apocalyptic fight, unseen and undetected.
“Are you sure they can’t pick us up?” Daedalus asked nervously. He’d managed to cobble together a Myrmidon armor suit, using spare parts he’d scavenged, but he didn’t feel safe being this close to his enemies.
“I’m Undetectable Girl, remember? Daddy made sure of that. Or have you forgotten how much fun you had trying to find me after I escaped from your clutches? Well, not exactly me, but you know what I mean.”
“How much longer do we have to wait? Not that I’m not enjoying watching those two buffoons pummel each other, mind you. Best show I’ve watched in a while. But we’re a little too close to the action.”
“Have to wait until Johnny’s worked himself into a good frenzy,” she said. “The little Outsider seedlings I’ve left in his aura are growing at a nice rate. When they finally corrupt him, we’ll know.”
“How?”
“He’ll kill Mark, of course. And his girlfriend, Mighty Aphrodite, for the sin of being too close to ground zero. Christine will be next. She’s probably to
o tough for John to handle, but she will turn evil after Marky-Mark dies, and her head will go boom. Seeing her boyfriend die – for the third time – and then losing her soul will be a fitting punishment. I wish it could be worse, and lengthier, but it’s best not to give her too much time. She might think of something. We’re pretty creative bitches, us Dark girls.
“After that, I wouldn’t want to be anybody on Freedom Island, because those first few minutes when you go berserk are a doozy. You were lucky, and burned off all that rage and energy via some rough sex, but I’m betting John is just going to kill every motherfucker he can reach. Say anybody within a few miles. That’s what I did, when I lost my shit over New York. About three million people had a very bad day by the time I was done. After he gets that out of his system, we’ll invite him to join our gang. He won’t be able to say no.”
“I hope you haven’t forgotten we’re within a few miles of him.”
“He can’t see us, Captain Douchebag. On top of my usual anti-detect field, I’m using a Codex Word. You know, the kind of knowledge you’d have killed to get back in the day. Daddy called it Dim, which I always thought was kind of weaksauce, but it’s what let him lurk all over the place, even when he spoiled the ninja effect by laughing like a loon.”
“And a pretty close equivalent to your Daddy is coming this way. In his new and improved Brass Man suit.”
“Jealous, Dee? Would you like to go macho a macho against him in your tin can, see which one of you has the most nerd cred?”
“Not at the moment. This suit is not my best work, even with the extra power disruptors. He’d probably win. What worries me is that he might see through your invisibility field.”
“He’ll be too busy trying to keep those idiots from killing each other.”
She was probably right, Daedalus admitted to himself. Ultimate and Face-Off were going hammer-and-tongs with genuine gusto, exchanging kilotons of TNT worth of kinetic energy and ignoring their fellow Legionnaires. Hyperia finally tried to intervene and ended up knocked a few miles into the sky for her troubles. It served the pathetic bitch right. Brass Man moved next, encasing the duelists in energy bubbles; those only lasted a couple of seconds, even after the Faerie Godfather arrived and tried to reinforce them with his own force fields. There was no holding them back.
New Olympus Saga (Book 4): The Ragnarok Alternative Page 15