I assembled a team after all, he thought, smiling. There was something missing, though, another hero or two, someone who would complement the abilities of this small group. But they were becoming friends, and that was the important thing. Doc had often heard that, in situations of violence, friendship and love is a liability, that it's better to have a professional respect for each other that could be relied upon. But when it came to people like those Doc had worked with his entire life, he knew it had to be more personal. You had to love the people you fought beside here. Because the things you would see, the things you would face as a hero, you'd need something more than just respect to make it through. You needed to think with your heart as often as you thought with your head.
These young heroes were becoming a family, he thought. And that would save them in the end. Love doesn't conquer all things, but it is the light at the end of every tunnel.
Doc was shaken from his own thoughts when Tower's artificial intelligence, Neal, chimed in.
"Designation: Doc Silence," the AI's always professional voice said. "There has been an incident you may want to be aware of."
"Bring it up on screen," Doc said, gesturing at a small monitor on his left.
The AI's eyes were everywhere here. He was, in many ways, the Tower itself. Neal understood where Doc wanted to review the information he had to share before Doc himself knew.
The screen lit up, depicting an aerial view using data filters only the Tower had, a sort of satellite imaging designed to sense unique energy signatures. It was how he found heroes like Billy, because their strange abilities appeared and were picked up by the Tower's network. The system informed the heroes ahead of time what type of obstacles they might be facing, be it nuclear, alien, or some other indefinable challenge. As it was in this case.
Doc frowned when he saw the unique patterns indicate a magical attack outside London. Something strange was happening near Elephant and Castle, a tube stop Doc had been to many times. He'd lived nearby for a short time when he was younger.
"Neal, please confirm. That's a magical energy signature, yes?"
"It is, Designation: Doc Silence. It is—"
"I know those spells by sight, it's okay," Doc said, cutting the AI off.
He glanced back down at the young heroes below him, still laughing and joking together. They weren't ready for magic, he knew. It was partially his own fault—he'd never exposed them to the supernatural, and given them no training in how to deal with it or how to defend themselves from it. But even if he had, they wouldn't be ready. There's nothing in this world as dangerous as magic, he thought. And Doc vowed to keep them from it as long as he could.
He touched the intercom and spoke into a small microphone on the console.
"Jane, come up to the observation deck for a moment, would you?" he said.
She looked up at him and saluted playfully.
No, Doc thought. I'll take care of this myself. And when I get back, I'll start teaching them about magic.
He wished very much that conversation would never have to happen. Doc wouldn't wish magic on his worst enemy, let alone these four kids he cared so much about.
Jane's footsteps clanked on the stairwell leading up to the observation area and she loudly clomped her way in.
"They're doing great, aren't they?" Jane said.
She was as much their teacher as Doc was; Jane and Doc had time together to train before he first reached out to the others, time to acclimate her after Jane's powers first manifested themselves. It was a period to prepare her to lead, Doc knew. It had been clear from their first few days together that Jane possessed the instincts of a leader, the right amount of compassion, self-sacrifice and self-confidence, and he had made sure to instill in her the things she'd need to take these less experienced heroes into the field.
"They are," Doc said. "And so are you. You've come a long way, Jane."
She shrugged.
"Only practicing what you taught me," she said. "You look worried. Are we doing something wrong down there?"
He shook his head.
"No," he said.
"So why'd you call me up here?" she asked.
Doc gestured to the monitor. Pulsating lights of whatever was happening at Elephant and Castle Streets continued to flicker.
"I need to investigate something," Doc said. "And just wanted to let you know I'd be gone a few hours, maybe longer."
Jane raised an eyebrow.
"Want backup?" she said. "I think we're ready for some field work."
"No," he said. Doc held up a hand in response to Jane's disappointed expression, "I don't doubt that you're close to getting out into the field, but these events involve magic. I haven't been able to give you anywhere near the tools you require to help with something like this."
"Sounds like you've been neglectful in your duties, Doctor Silence," Jane said.
He chuckled.
"When I get back, I'll start teaching you about magic," Doc said. "But there's a reason I've held off. It's the final exam, not a prep test. Magic is the most dangerous element you'll ever face. I wanted to let you work your way up to it."
"So when you return, we'll talk about getting the team into the field? Maybe stop muggings or something else?"
"How about rescuing a few kittens out of trees?" Doc said.
"Anything if it will get us out of the training room," Jane said.
"It's a promise, then," Doc said. "You'll hold down the fort?"
"You bet," she said. Jane pursed her lips, suddenly serious. "But if you get into any trouble, you'll call? Even if it's just me. I won't put the others in danger."
"I will," he said. Doc put a hand on Jane's shoulder, amazed, as always, by the way the stored solar energy she used to power her abilities radiated a distinct halo-like heat from her. "See you soon."
"Be safe," Jane said.
"I always am," he said.
Doc turned and cast a silent spell that opened a sliver in space. Through the gateway, he saw London's ever-unique skyline.
"I'll be back soon," he said, not realizing that this would be the last time he'd ever see Jane.
* * *
Then:
Doc Silence stepped out of a portal across the street from the garish statue from which Elephant and Castle, a roadway in central London, derived its name. The road involved one of the more frustrating roundabouts he'd ever encountered during his time living here when he was young—he swore the rotary was the work of a demon, but then again, Doc thought, most roundabouts involve dark sorcery if you looked hard enough for it.
Even still, the bright red elephant with a tiny castle on its back brought back memories of his years in London. He learned so much magic here, back in the early days. London hosted a hotbed of practitioners of magic, both light and dark; he'd come here to study, and to make a name for himself, if he could.
But Elephant and Castle was also the home of one of his worst days here in London. Not fighting a demon, not ending a curse, not failing to solve a case or save the day. No, Elephant and Castle was the place where a young Doc engaged in a terrible argument with someone he worried about, someone who had known what he was going to become. She'd watched him going down a dark path—like roundabouts, all paths of magic are dark, even the good ones—and she'd tried to warn him off.
By then though, Doc had already witnessed too much. It was too late to turn back. His eyes had been transformed to burning violet orbs. He perceived things while simply walking down the street that ordinary people never knew existed. He'd killed a vampire in New Orleans, battled an immortal serial killer in Paris.
There would be no ordinary life for him, not then. So they'd had a row in the subway station, and his friend stormed off. They never spoke again. Sometimes, during those forlorn moments when Doc Silence was alone, he'd add up all the people he had lost to magic together with all the lives he'd saved because of it, and he would try to balance the scales. But sorrow weighs more heavily than victory, and Doc—even wi
th the Tower full of young heroes in training— was and had been for a very long time, alone.
Shaking off thoughts of the past, Doc cast a small spell, a little cantrip to let him know where magic existed in the vicinity. A glittering path, like dots on a map, led him down into the subway tunnels below. He followed, scattering those glowing specks like dust in bright sunlight.
Back in the old days, Doc carried a knife with him. The subway could be a rough place. He realized carrying was illegal here, but he also knew the right spells to make officers of the law look another way, or forget his face entirely. He could walk around this city with a claymore strapped to his back and no one would notice unless they were searching for someone just like him. A magician. A troublemaker.
The subway tunnel was strangely empty. Doc paced slowly down the corridor, feeling the wet density of hard magic all around him. Someone had been casting here, casting large. Pulling terrible things to the surface. Someone who knew magic just as well as Doc did. Maybe more.
The lights flickered. He turned around.
Standing in the mouth of the corridor, Lady Natasha Grey, wrapped in an expensive duster, drew her collar up against the chill. Her eyes, like his, glowed with an inner fire, red-gold to his violet, like open flame.
"What are you doing?" Doc said.
The lights went dark again.
Suddenly they weren't in Elephant and Castle station anymore. Light emanated from cracks of the black stone walls like molten lava. Arms of all shapes and sizes jutted out from the wall—disembodied demon arms, scaled or knobbed, skin deep red or jet black or bone white—reached and grasped at him.
"Why you doing this?" Doc said.
He conjured a weapon to his hand, another simple spell, the weight of an enchanted sword filled his grip. One of the monstrous arms grabbed him and he lashed out with the sword, slapping it away with the flat of the blade.
"Natasha?" Doc said.
She simply gazed at him. Her face blank, her expression stone-like.
Doc began to cast a teleportation spell, hoping, if Natasha wouldn't answer him, he could simply walk away and figure out what this all was later. But the weight of a counterspell came crashing down on his own, preventing his escape. He tried another spell, a variation of the first, and felt a finely woven layer of magic holding him back. This hallway had been prepared for him, a perfect trap designed by someone who was aware of Doc's secrets.
Someone who taught him everything he knew.
"I'm sorry, my little doctor," Natasha said. "I really am. But this is simply business."
"You can't do this," he said. Then Doc gestured with the sword at the Lady. "I know we never see eye to eye, Natasha, but you can't mean to . . ."
"We've had a good run, you and I," the Lady said. "We've played our little game long enough. But all good things must come to an end. You were a worthy adversary and a fine student, Doctor Silence. I'm almost sorry to see you go."
The arms that reached for him grew longer, their claws becoming more vicious. Doc gripped the enchanted sword with both hands, beating back the demonic hands. Then he felt something else biting into his skin, not claws, not a monster, but a spell. Something old, and terrible, and powerful, sapping his strength. His heart raced.
"Why?" Doc said, realizing, suddenly, that Natasha had prepared this trap too perfectly, that he did not have the time, or the strength, to counter all of the tiers of counterspells she'd set up before he even arrived. This death trap was designed especially for him, and he'd walked right into it.
Stupid wizard, Doc thought. You really thought nothing could stop you. This is your own fault.
The Lady watched as Doc's strength, both physical and magical, drained. He fought viciously as the walls closed in on him. Red-tinted glasses knocked from his face and fell to the ground. They crunched beneath his own foot during his struggle to remain standing.
"I wish things could have been different," the Lady said. She watched a moment longer, then turned and slowly walked away.
Light in the tunnel faded to oblivion, Doc Silence thought of the future he would never see. So this is how it ends, he thought, feeling the darkness wash over him. Gradually his fist unclenched and the enchanted sword slipped from his hands.
I hope I gave them all enough to survive, he thought. I hope I taught Jane well.
And then, nothingness.
* * *
Now:
The group was quiet after future-Jane finished telling her story. Doc appeared unmoved, fingers steepled in front of his face as he listened.
"And that was the last time we saw you," older-Jane said. "We found out a lot of the details later. The Lady covered her tracks."
"And I hadn't been able to prepare you for dealing with her," Doc said. "You had no idea where to look."
Future-Jane nodded.
"Well that was some super-grim stuff," Emily said. "Holy carp. Got any more horrific fairy tales to tell us?"
"More than I'd rather share," older-Jane said.
Younger-Jane put a hand on Doc's shoulder.
"You don't seem at all bothered by this," she said. "You okay?"
Doc smiled.
"Honestly?" he said. "I'm intrigued. I want to know what was offered to her for killing me. There were a lot of years when she was more than capable of doing so."
"Please don't smile when you talk about being dead," younger-Jane said. "It's uncomfortable enough to talk about when you don't look amused."
Emily hopped off her chair and popped the collar on her goofy red vest.
"Me next," she said.
"What?" both Janes said simultaneously. They exchanged alarmed glances.
"Me next. We heard why Doc's not here. I want to know what happened to me," Emily said.
The elder Titus shifted, his vast, muscular bulk causing the stage to creak.
"That's a more difficult story," he said. "Let's feed you first. We'll fill you in during lunch."
A couple of the older werewolf's pack mates led the group out of the theater. Doc, Annie, and, unexpectedly, Leto held back. When the room was nearly empty, Doc watched as Leto transformed, abandoning her Anubis-like werewolf form for a startlingly beautiful human one.
"It's good to see you again, Doctor," she said.
"Nice to see you as well, Leto. I'm glad you're here."
"We did what we had to, these past twenty years," she said. "The last Whispering is doing well."
Doc grunted.
"We all knew Titus was special, even among the Whisperings," he said. "Is there a reason he doesn't change back to his human shape anymore?"
"That's not my story to tell," Leto said.
Annie glanced back towards the corridor she and the Janes had walked down to find Kate earlier.
"I think I have an idea what the reason is," Annie said.
Leto nodded in agreement.
"Not the world you left, is it," the ethereal werewolf said.
"It never is," Doc said. "Never is."
Chapter 16:
The Watcher
It's almost over, the White Shadow thought, gazing at monitors and watching the world crumble to dust. It's almost over, and I did this.
It began so innocently, the vigilante reflected. We initiated all this with the best of intentions. No, we started it with murder didn't we, with kidnapping. We set off on the wrong side of good and never crossed the line back onto the other side of right.
But this is what the world deserves, the White Shadow thought.
In the vigilante's lair, old newspaper clippings hung from the wall, dating back more than fifty years. Photos of the Shadow on the front page, shaking the mayor's hand after preventing a terrorist crisis, hand on the shoulder of the police commissioner after stopping a crime spree, wrapped in the arms of relieved citizens when the Shadow solved a major murder.
This is what the White Shadow did for decades. Saved the day. Made the world a better place. Put bad people behind bars, ensured good folks got home safe to
their families.
Except, for every newspaper clipping, there were fifty unsolved murders. For every joyous photo, there would be a hundred awful things the Shadow would never be able to prevent. For every reunion with a rescued family member, there was the heartbreak of knowing someone would never go home.
We tried for a little while to make the world a better place, the White Shadow thought. All of us. Fools and angels, throwing our lives away for people who never appreciated it, for those who never deserved it.
That's what broke the Shadow's spirit, twenty years ago. Knowing that all the good intentions in the world amounted to nothing. The world is comprised of scales, the Shadow thought, and they were always tipping in the wrong direction. We don't deserve this world, the Shadow thought. We have never deserved it.
And so twenty years ago the White Shadow resolved to change things in a different way.
They realized the girl was the key to it all. And understood she would need someone to control her. And knew there was only one person who could stop them, one person who had enough understanding of just how powerful the girl really was. And so Doc Silence was eliminated, and Keaton Bohr recruited, and the girl snatched. It should have been so simple.
But now it's almost over, the White Shadow thought. Because it all went too far.
They didn't deserve it, he thought, eyes flitting back and forth between the yellowing pages of newspapers and the grim, gray images of the monitors all around the room.
We gave them peace, and they didn't want it. We provided them safety, and they waged war. And now look at what we've become. A world torn apart, dying on its feet like a decaying and feeble old dog. We destroyed all the evil in the world and yet mankind just kept manufacturing more. No matter how many displays of power, no matter how much destruction the White Shadow's forces wrought—and there were forces, followers, acolytes who believed in implementing peace, who believed that humanity needed to be told what to do in order to become better—no matter how much they did to hammer their message home, perpetual wars still, perpetual fighting.
The Indestructibles (Book 3): The Entropy of Everything Page 7