“Slow down,” Cipher advised, moving from the laptop to sit in the chair nearer Vic’s bed. “Jonas is with us, but not just now. He’s doing recon outside. It’s the middle of the night, so he’s in his element.”
“Where’s outside?” Vic asked cautiously, still not entirely convinced he hadn’t perished in the East River and been consigned to some strange, cramped, stuffy afterlife with simulacrums of his best friends to keep him company for eternity.
“Red Hook docks,” Cipher said. “Near the Atlantic basin, opposite Governors Island.”
“So, Brooklyn,” Vic surmised. “And… we’re inside a shipping container, aren’t we?”
“It’s an Institute safehouse,” Cipher said. “I told Jonas it was our safecrate, but he didn’t really get it.”
“I mean, I doubt the Institute could afford to keep an actual New York apartment on as a full-time safehouse,” Vic said, managing a smile. “As long as we don’t get hoisted onto any freighters, we should be OK.”
“They’d be in for a nasty shock if we were,” Ci said. Vic thought for a second before carrying on, piecing together what had happened.
“So, what’s the deal?” he asked, his eyes dragged back down once more to his stump. He found the lumpen, jelly-like flesh at the end of it morbidly fascinating. “Don’t tell me Cyclops expelled you both after you busted me out?”
“No,” Cipher said. “Well, nearly. He tried confining us to our dorms. Didn’t work.”
“Who’d have thought,” Vic said, forcing himself to stop staring at his wound and look back at Cipher. “You decided to break out too?”
“Not exactly,” Cipher said, sounding almost uncomfortable. “I went and talked to Summers. I convinced him to let us come after you.”
“What, seriously?” Vic asked. “And he just let you go?”
“Yep.”
“What’s the catch? Let me guess, you have to bring me right back to the Institute?”
“Nope. No catch. He made us sit through another speech about the Institute and the value of family. But I talked him around. I told him I could leave anytime I liked, but I was doing it by the book.”
“Things really must be desperate then,” Vic said. “You shouldn’t have come. I told you not to follow. It’s not worth the risk.”
“If we hadn’t, you’d be dead,” Ci said firmly. Vic inclined his head, feeling chastened.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I owe you, big time. Gray too. But I still want to know how you found me.”
“You think Summers gave you a new communicator just to replace your old phone?” Cipher asked. “He’s cleverer than you give him credit for, Vic.”
He frowned, reaching across with his left hand to find the X-communicator in his suit’s pocket. It felt awkward using his opposite arm. Just thinking about the injury and remembering the pain caused by the Purifier’s sword made his guts churn. He’d wondered before about the possibility of limb regeneration, given he’d witnessed it happening to an actual lizard once, but needless to say he’d never wanted to test the theory out. This was going to take more than a bit of getting used to.
“It’s a tracker,” Cipher said as Vic pulled out the circular device, speaking as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Right then, it felt like it was. Vic was glad he was incapable of blushing.
“He put a tracker in my communicator,” he said. “I wondered, but surely that is against school rules?”
“Don’t act like you’ve ever read the policy documents,” Cipher said. “You’re just annoyed that he outsmarted you. He knew where you were this whole time.”
“So why didn’t he stop me?” Vic asked. “Surely he could have sent someone to pick me up? Even Rockslide, if one of the other X-Men wasn’t available.”
“Rockslide’s still looking for your father, or he was when we last heard from him. And even if someone else was around to grab you and force you back to the Institute, what then? Summers was hardly going to lock you up in the basement. He knew as long as your dad was missing, you’d keep trying to get out.”
“You make me sound like a stubborn ass,” Vic said ruefully.
“I don’t think I’m qualified to comment on that,” Ci said with a hint of a smile. “Just be thankful the principal got one over on you. Once I convinced him letting us go would improve your survival odds, he wired our own communicators up so we could track yours. Lucky for you he did.”
“Apparently I’ve got the whole Institute to thank for still being alive, sans one arm,” Vic said, trying not to sound churlish. He hated falling for anything, even when it was a case of life or death.
“We managed to get to you just before you were washed out of the Upper Bay,” Cipher said. “It was getting dark by the time we located you, so Jonas’s powers were in effect too. It’s a miracle you hadn’t already drowned by then.”
Vic grunted, trying not to think about the few memories he had of his time in New York’s waters. He wondered just where his arm had ended up. That brought back images of Xodus, of fire, and of falling, wicked steel. He shivered.
“The Purifiers are in New York,” he said, looking directly ahead now. “I tracked down the source of their funding. They have a powerful business backer. Sublime Corp.”
“That’s what you’re doing in New York?” Ci asked. “You think they’re the ones with your dad?”
“The Sublime boss is the one pulling all the strings,” Vic said. “Some creepy dude by the name of Lobe. The Purifiers are practically just a front. It’s Sublime who’s taken my dad.”
“But why?” Cipher asked.
“I still don’t know, but it’s definitely me they’re after,” Vic replied, wishing he had a better answer. “I’ve got to get at Lobe. Either expose him or make him talk.”
“I doubt you’ll be able to do either if we don’t find out more about him and Sublime,” Cipher said. “Why would some business CEO be after you? Are you saying he’s stoked up the whole Purifier campaign just to try and lure you out?”
“No,” Vic said with a defensive note. “I don’t know. All I know is he recognized me, and he’s got Xodus hunting me. They’re both relentless.”
“You don’t think we should be prioritizing the Purifiers?” Cipher asked. “They’re the ones who took your father, after all. We’ll probably still have to go through them to get to this Lobe, even if he is the one now holding Dan.”
There was a scraping sound and the thunk of a lock. Vic and Cipher both turned as the door to the shipping container squealed open.
The night beyond seemed to leak into the narrow space. The two lamps flickered, and for the tiniest moment Vic thought they were going to go out and leave the container in darkness.
The light recovered. Graymalkin stood in the doorway, the darkness at his back absolute. He smiled at Vic, a disarming expression for someone who had just appeared like Dracula returning to his castle.
“It does me well to see you conscious, Victor,” he said, stepping fully inside and carefully closing and locking the container’s door behind him. “I had started to become concerned.”
“So I heard,” Vic said. “I also hear you had a hand in saving my life. I’m going to have to think up new and creative ways of saying thank you to both of you.”
“You would do the same for either of us,” Graymalkin said, walking past Vic to type something in at the laptop. “Besides, much of the rescuing was Cipher’s doing.”
“How’s it looking out there?” Ci asked, changing the subject rather than taking the compliment.
“The commotion is largely calmed,” Graymalkin said, looking up at her from the laptop. “Bands of Purifiers are searching the riverbanks and the docks, but the NYPD appear to have them under control and are moving them on. I witnessed several arrests.”
“For once,” Vic said bitterly. Graymalkin continued.
“Vic believes he’s found a connection between the Purifiers and a New York businessman,” Cipher said, looking at Vic to take over. He shrugged – the motion felt strange with only one arm.
“His name’s Lobe. He’s using his finances and influence to back the Purifiers and hunt for me. I don’t know why.”
“Then we will have to find out,” Graymalkin said, gesturing to the laptop. “The principal has been good enough to provide us with remote access to much of the Institute’s data archives.”
“No more hardwiring into the vault,” Cipher said. “Almost takes the fun out of it.”
“Well, at least I won’t have to sit in Central Library worrying about my skin accidentally shifting a few shades while I’m concentrating on the browser,” Vic said. “We can start by looking for any mention of Sublime or Lobe in the digital records.”
“I will do so,” Gray affirmed, beginning to tap away at the laptop’s keys – he’d more or less mastered such devices, though his typing was slow and conducted with forefingers alone.
“I take it you were snooping around Sublime’s offices when you were caught?” Cipher asked Vic.
“Something like that,” he replied. “I ended up having a one-to-one meeting with Lobe and Xodus.”
“Sounds like you need someone more subtle for that kind of work,” Cipher pointed out. “I’ll pay them a visit tomorrow, see what I can learn. Any info on where your father is being held and it’ll practically be mission accomplished.”
“This is a mission now?” Vic asked doubtfully. “I don’t think I’m much cut out for that sort of stuff any more.” He looked down at his stump, feeling almost guilty now. Gray and Ci had come all this way, risked so much, and he was reduced to a single arm, no longer combat-effective. He didn’t dare even think about how the injury was going to affect his balance or ability to climb. The absence felt wholly unnatural, freakish. It seemed as though he should still be able to reach out with it, still feel its physical presence. And yet, when he tried to move it, there was nothing there.
“Nonsense,” Cipher said briskly. “I was going to bandage it, but I didn’t want to disturb whatever your body’s doing. You’ll just need to get used to it.”
“You know, certain genera such as the Anolis carolinensis are capable of regrowing severed tails,” Gray said as he continued to slowly type, the world’s most ponderous hacker. “Some reptilians can regenerate whole limbs, given time.”
“You think I’m going to grow my arm back?” Vic exclaimed. “Come on, I’m not an actual, literal human-sized anole, Gray!”
“We’ll give it some time and see,” Cipher said. “You’re not leaving the safecrate for at least the next twenty-four hours. Let us do the snooping. We’re better at it than you.”
“You want me to just fester here staring at my stump?” Vic complained.
“That’s exactly what I want,” Cipher said. “You know we’re working round the clock to find your dad, so don’t try and pull the restless and helpless card. You said it yourself, you’re no use to us weak and injured. So, get your strength back.”
“I brought some books you can read,” Gray added brightly, moving from the laptop to his rucksack. “I thought they might help you study for your history retake.”
Vic groaned and slumped back, laying his one remaining forearm over his face. Maybe he should’ve just drowned in the East River.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The drill emitted a piercing shriek, the pitch high enough to penetrate from the theater into the sealed observation room adjacent to it.
The sound didn’t affect Lobe. He had simply deleted it from his consciousness – he’d long mastered the ability to compartmentalize and, if necessary, erase not only specific thoughts and feelings, but physical stimuli. When time allowed, he permitted himself to feel certain emotions, for some were conducive, and what was the point of success without satisfaction? But when he was working – as he was now – there could be no distractions.
The CEO of Sublime Corp stood in the semi-dark of the observation room, staring through at the brightly lit, pristine space that served as the facility’s operating theater. The scene playing out before him had been fascinating at first, but it was rapidly becoming tedious. A trio of masked and gowned figures clustered around an upright operating slab, working with painstaking slowness on the figure bolted to it. The giant’s body appeared to be composed entirely of a granite-like substance, craggy and incredibly dense. Initially Lobe had been intrigued by the prospect of capturing such a specimen – was the creature’s entire body composed of rock, or did it have an organic core that merely bore a rock-like carapace? Was the ability to communicate with and craft nearby geology an innate or a learned process? Did it require conscious mental thought? The possibilities had almost caused him to forgive Xodus his failings. Alas, work on the subject had started to stall.
There was a crunch and a clatter as a segment of stone detached and fell from the creature’s broad torso. The drill whirred as it retracted, one of the white-clad men waving the rock dust from the air. Lobe allowed himself a slight grimace.
The mutant had proven immensely resistant. After several days of effort with saws, drills and even, at one point, a sledgehammer, they’d managed to detach its left arm. Its remains were laid out on a gurney beside the operating slab, the limb reduced to half a dozen hunks of shattered stone. It appeared the thing was composed of granite through-and-through. That posed questions in its own right, but the answers were proving increasingly uninteresting to Lobe.
The operator with the drill stepped back, assessing the hole burrowed into the mutant’s torso. Throughout the session it hadn’t stirred once. As Lobe had calculated, a certain coagulant gel inserted into its rocky joints was sufficient not only to impede its limbs but also to stymie its mental processes. It was not completely unconscious, but it was too sluggish and confused to be able to formulate a coherent thought, much less unleash the geokinetic powers Lobe had heard it possessed. Delving into those particular abilities would require further, careful experimentation, but Lobe had no time for it. Test results had all come back negative. This mutant’s DNA, such as it was, consisted of strands far too resilient and unyielding to be of use in the serum, and that meant it was of no immediate use to Sublime Corp.
As the drill began to shriek again Lobe detected a careful knock at the observation room door. He ignored his irritation and called for whoever it was to enter. One of the facility’s suited guards stepped inside, not meeting Lobe’s gaze. He was carrying a package.
“This was just delivered, sir,” the man said, offering Lobe the wrapped parcel. “I was told it should be given to you immediately.”
Lobe took the package and waved the man out. The paper didn’t bear a sender name, but it had the Purifier cross-and-circle upon it. Just the sight of the symbol caused a flash of anger that took Lobe several seconds to control. He had endured a number of doubts before brokering an alliance between Sublime Corp and the Purifiers, not least of which involved the competence of what appeared to be nothing more than a cult of militant religious fanatics. Xodus had succeeded in ticking a number of boxes however – he was single-minded and physically capable, and had one of the few things that Sublime Corp was lacking, namely a small army of demented followers who could be harnessed across a swath of North America. They gave Lobe a reach beyond the boardrooms, banks, and businesses he’d spent his life subverting and controlling, an ability to conduct direct action on the streets, provided he occasionally stoked up the fires of their fanaticism. He was also discovering, however, that the prophet and his cult were a blunt instrument. Indiscriminate hounding of the mutant population was one thing, but they appeared incapable of targeted operations, especially when it came to the lizard. Somehow the boy had found h
is way right to the heart of Lobe’s empire. He was practically taunting him. The rage it had all induced was almost more than he could control.
He busied himself meticulously unwrapping the package, trying to ease his frustrations. The capture of the rock mutant – Rockslide was his moniker, apparently – was a kind of progress. The boy also couldn’t have gotten far, despite Xodus’s failure to find him in the river. He was outside of the Institute and isolated. It was only a matter of time.
The wrapping paper came away in Lobe’s manicured hands, and he experienced a rare moment of surprise. There was no note, but the contents of the package said enough. He held a limp, green-scaled, severed arm.
He smiled. Progress indeed.
Chapter Thirty
Vic slammed his fist against the inside of the shipment container’s door. He ignored both the pain shooting up his arm and the slight dent that appeared in the blue metal surface. It made him feel better.
He had yet to find a more ideal way of venting his frustrations since he’d been pulled from the river. Today had been a particular low. He’d almost been caught while trying to scale a wall into a warehouse compound. He’d lost his balance and upended a row of trash cans. Although he’d managed to fully shift to avoid security when they’d come to check on the disturbance, they’d still almost rumbled him. Backup had arrived, and he’d barely shaken them before making it back to the dockyards.
He felt incapable. Worse, he felt like a liability. Two weeks and Gray and Ci had been out every night, scouring the city for leads. Cipher had spent almost five days in the Sublime Corp headquarters undetected, and Gray had been tracking the subsidiary company holdings and the movements of their employees, much of which appeared to occur after dark.
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