First Team

by Robbie MacNiven

  “All clear, and I’ve unlocked the doors and deactivated the alarm from the inside,” she said.

  “Flawless,” Vic replied, moving with Gray to join her. She huffed.

  “Like I said, I could have done all this without you.”

  “But you’d miss our wit,” Vic pointed out, and pushed the doors to the Revitalize Incorporated laboratories open.

  The corridor beyond was dark but for some low-lying illumination strips. Vic passed warily along it, trying to relax and let his senses attune themselves to the building. It was difficult, knowing that both his companions were so much more adept at these kinds of stealth operations. Ci had gone completely invisible again, and Gray practically thrummed with pent-up energy next to him, his eyes gleaming a deathly, spectral white in the gloom. He really had to get Gray to go as Nosferatu this Halloween. Find some old armor plates for Ci and she’d make a great spectral knight. As for him… He glanced down briefly at his right arm, looking so bulky and lopsided now. Frankenstein’s lizard. That worked.

  Focus. They’d reached the end of the corridor. Vic opened the next door to find Cipher, now visible, once more ahead of them.

  She stood in the middle of what appeared to have once been a laboratory. Several work islands complete with Bunsen burner nodes occupied the center of a swept tile floor, while the walls were covered in shelves and included several sinks and equipment racks. All of them appeared empty. There were no windows, but there was what looked like either an observation room or an isolation unit off to the left-hand side, complete with a glass panel. The floor tiles were scuffed around several empty wall sockets, where it looked like heavier lab equipment had been unplugged and shipped out.

  “Doesn’t look like there’s much left to work with,” Vic murmured, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. He’d hoped the hurried evacuation described by Gray would still be in progress, but it looked as though the entire space had been thoroughly cleared and scrubbed within the last twenty-four hours.

  “The operating theater is through those doors,” Gray said, indicating the exit opposite them. Cipher vanished once more, scouting ahead.

  The next room was similar to the first, but instead of the workstations there were two operating slabs, one notably larger than the other. The observation room was also a more separate affair, with no door directly into the theater and a large, opaque window, set beneath a blank monitor screen. The whole place gave Victor the chills. He was convinced somebody was watching them from behind that window, or over the security cameras that sat, seemingly deactivated, in the room’s corners.

  “What were they doing here?” he wondered aloud.

  “Nothing good,” Cipher answered darkly.

  Vic sniffed. There was a strange smell in the theater, one he hadn’t noticed elsewhere in the facility. It was almost like peppermint, albeit with a bitter aftertaste that caught in the back of his throat. It was somehow vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. He’d caught it in the Institute before.

  “Can you smell that?” he asked the others.

  “No,” Ci replied. “What does it smell like?”

  “I’m not sure,” Vic said, wondering if his senses were playing up. Scenting something that was invisible to others was hardly unusual for him.

  “The communicators might be able to pick up something we’ve missed,” Graymalkin suggested, pulling out his device. “Given the haste of the evacuation, I consider it highly unlikely that they will have been able to completely purge the entire facility of evidence.”

  “I’ll see if I can hack the security footage,” Cipher said. “There might be a way of extracting deleted files.”

  Vic knelt beside one of the abandoned gurneys, his tongue flicking the air as he sought out the source of the strange smell and tried not to dwell on the abandoned theater’s grim ramifications. The sight of the operating slabs in particular made him feel sick. Had Santo been strapped to one of those? Had he been tortured, experimented on? He forced himself to concentrate. Where had he sensed that smell before? Last Christmas? Sometime around then. The end of term combat trials. He’d been fighting, hadn’t he?

  “That’s strange,” came Ci’s voice from up beside one of the cameras. “The surveillance systems in here are still operating. They weren’t next door.”

  “The scan is picking up structural anomalies,” Gray added, frowning as he held up his communicator and rotated slowly on the spot. “Perhaps a security failsafe in case one of the theater subjects becomes compromised. It looks as if...”

  “It’s a trap,” Vic said, standing up sharply. “We need to get out. Now.”

  He’d recognized the smell. It was a byproduct of selenium 5, a component in a nerve gas sometimes used in Danger Room exercises. Non-lethal, but debilitating. And at some point, it had started leaking into the operating theater.

  Vic turned towards the doors leading back into the laboratory, but a thumping impact shook the room before he could move. Steel plates, branded with the Revitalize logo, slammed down over both entrances to the theater. Somewhere, an alarm began to clatter.

  “It’s gas,” Vic said, looking around desperately and spotting several sets of vents ranged high up along the wall above the observation room. “Nerve gas. We’ve got to get out!”

  “I’ll try and cut it off,” Ci said, already phased.

  “No,” Graymalkin urged. “I can use my powers to break out if you kill the lights.”

  “I can’t do both at the same time,” Cipher snapped. Vic began to cough. He could feel the selenium now, burning in his sinuses, making his eyes water.

  “There are multiple vents,” Gray said, a hint of panic in his normally clipped, precise tone. “You can’t cut them all off.”

  “There are multiple lights too,” Ci pointed out. “They’re powered by a backup circuit somewhere, I can’t just flick the switch!”

  Gray tried punching the plating that had clattered down over the door to the lab. It barely left a dent.

  “Stop arguing,” Vic snapped, attempting to cover his face with his elbow as he spoke. “We’re meant to be a trained team. Ci, get into the wiring of those shutters and see if you can retract them. Gray, go for the wall, not the door. It’s probably thinner.”

  He had no idea if Ci was doing as suggested – she was still invisible – but Gray joined him at the wall that partitioned the theater from the lab. Vic hit it with his left fist, twice, cringing at the pain. A crack appeared in the plaster, though. Gray took over hitting the same spot.

  “I wondered how many would find their way into the web tonight,” said an abrupt voice. Vic recognized it immediately. Lobe. He spun round, ready to lash out. Instead he found himself looking at the now-active display of the monitor above the observation room.

  “You seem surprised to see me, Anole,” Lobe said, his face set in a chilling smirk. “I thought you came here looking for me. Or maybe your friend?”

  Lobe moved to one side, an arm extended as the camera refocused on the scene behind him. He appeared to be standing in a section of a ruinous church, jury-rigged industrial lamps lighting up the nave behind him. The space was dominated by two stacks of timber, bundled around two poles. A figure was bound to each – Santo and Dan.

  “No,” Vic barked, the word descending into a racking fit of coughing that felt as though it was never going to end.

  “Consider yourself invited to the party,” Lobe continued, his face once more dominating the lens. “Tomorrow afternoon. Bring your plus twos, if you’d like. I wouldn’t want anyone to miss what dear Xodus has in store. That is, of course, if you don’t find yourself permanently incapacitated by the hard work of Revitalize Incorporated.”

  Vic doubled over, choking, every breath a desperate effort. He was half aware of Gray stumbling away from the wall, clutching his throat, his pale eyes bulging. He could hear Cipher choking
too, though from where he didn’t know. She alone could already have left, but she still fought to free them. He lunged desperately at the wall, blinded by tears as he began to strike it with both fists. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t give up. Otherwise nobody would ever find his father.

  Something gave way beneath his right hand. It hurt to use the new limb, but just then it was nothing compared to his throat closing up and his eyes feeling as though they were being seared from his skull by boiling water. He punched again, putting his all into his new arm. There was a crack, and white plaster cascaded down before him. Still the wall endured. He slammed his fist in once more, feeling more of the structure give way. He felt as though he’d broken every new-formed bone in his hand, but he didn’t care, because with the next punch his fist met only air. He was through.

  He felt a hand clutching at his shoulder – Gray. He couldn’t turn to see him. In fact, he couldn’t see anything. His eyes were screwed tight shut, overwhelmed by the seeping agony of the nerve agent. The wall was breaking though, crumbling before his new-found strength. He shoulder-charged it, spines-first, and burst through the damaged section with Graymalkin trailing blindly behind him.

  He tripped and fell, in a total panic. He still couldn’t breathe. Was the whole facility flooded? He rolled, questing about in the broken plaster, still blind, trying wildly to inhale.

  Finally, air filled his lungs. His chest burned. His right hand was in agony. He cuffed tears from his eyes with his left, blinking furiously, trying to see again. The air in the lab appeared to be clear, though it wouldn’t stay that way for long with a hole now punched through to the adjoining room.

  Did I just break right through a wall? Vic thought. First time for everything.

  That was as much as he was able to take in before he heard a mechanical rattle. He managed to open one eye as he got up onto his hands and knees, and realized for the first time that they weren’t alone. Ten or more men in black fatigues and combat kit, replete with rubbery, bug-eyed respiration masks, levelled a plethora of firearms at where the two of them were sprawled.

  “Oh, hey guys,” Vic managed to gasp.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Vic tried to react, but the aftereffects of the gas made him feel as though his eyes had been scrubbed with a stiff brush and his lungs filled with tar. He saw the closest muzzle aimed at him, before it jerked abruptly backwards, cracking off the masked face of its wielder. He scrambled to his feet as the men on either side turned, but too slowly. One was sent reeling into the other by an invisible force, slamming them both to the tiled floor. Vic grinned.

  Cipher was in among them. Shouts went up, and someone discharged their weapon, the report ear-shatteringly loud in the confined space. There was a scream. A snap – Vic got the impression someone had just received a broken arm – and another gunshot. It burst plaster from the remains of the wall behind Vic.

  He rose, struggling to find the breath to shout, swinging his left fist at the nearest man. Vic caught the briefest glimpse of eyes wide with shock behind the glassy lenses of his respirator. His fist caught the man’s throat and doubled him over.

  Gray was up now too. Though the lights in the lab were bright enough to negate his powers, he was still quick and strong. He kicked in the ankle of one man with a gristly crunch and slapped aside the pistol of a second who was attempting to bring it to bear on him, the sidearm discharging and hitting the first man in the arm. The unfortunate figure went down screaming, trying to clutch his wounded arm and ankle simultaneously. Graymalkin punched the man with the pistol hard enough to splinter his mask’s lenses.

  For a few seconds Vic’s blood sang with the adrenaline high of close quarter combat. This was the real deal, not a Danger Room test or a scrap with fellow students. All of them had trained for this for over two years, week in, week out, and suddenly it was happening. He didn’t have time to think, and that was just fine. He spun into a low crouch, lashing out with his tongue and snagging the barrel of a rifle being pointed at Gray. He yanked it aside as he kicked out with one foot, toppling the prospective shooter. The man dropped his weapon and drew a short, wicked-looking dagger from a vambrace over his forearm, punching it towards Vic. The move caught him by surprise, and he wasn’t able to stop the blade digging into his ribs. It didn’t pierce his X-suit though, deflecting into the floor. Vic’s left arm was pinned under him, so he slammed his right into the man’s chest. Something crunched. This man was tough though. Despite the blow he still managed to raise his knife, aiming now at Vic’s exposed face.

  The blow fell short, quivering a few inches from Vic’s right eye. There was a crack, and the knife fell to the floor with a clatter. An invisible force had caught and twisted the man’s wrist. He writhed on the tiles as Vic scrambled back to his feet.

  Cipher seemed to be everywhere. She was the difference between life and death, invisible and avenging, seemingly impervious to their attackers. Vic ducked as one of the men was flung bodily over him, crashing into one of the laboratory’s work islands. Graymalkin had brought down another assailant, slamming his head into a shelf and crumpling the door.

  Vic looked around, ready to lash out, convinced they were still surrounded. Instead all he found were black-clad bodies, some moving sluggishly and groaning, others lying still. He realized the fight had probably taken perhaps a minute. His throat, nose and eyes were already starting to burn again. Gas still poured into the room. He spat a wad of phlegm and helped Gray stay on his feet as he was hit by a fresh bout of coughing.

  “There’s no shutter over the lab doors,” Vic said as Graymalkin recovered. “Got to keep going.”

  Graymalkin clutched at him and held him back.

  “Ci,” he managed to gasp. Vic realized why. There was blood on the floor, blood that didn’t belong to any of the goons who’d tried to jump them. It was running seemingly from thin air next to one of the work islands.

  Cipher blinked into existence, flickering for a moment, as though not wholly in control of her abilities any more. At some point in the melee she’d been shot. She clutched her left arm, blood welling between her fingers.

  “Ci,” Vic exclaimed before another fit of coughing hit him.

  “It’s just a graze,” Cipher said. She looked angry rather than pained. “Come on, we need to get out of here.”

  Gray struggled to even stand any more, overcome once more by the nerve agent. Vic hauled them both toward the doors. They burst through together, and Vic finally caught an aching lungful of clear, untainted air.

  Behind him, faint but audible from the operating theater, he could hear the video link of Lobe laughing.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “You shouldn’t have come.” It was the first thing Cipher said when they’d made it back to the safecrate. She sat on her mattress with the upper part of her left arm tightly bound with white dressings.

  Vic resisted the urge to bite back, saying nothing instead. It had been a little over an hour since they’d arrived back at the docks. The struggle to get off Rikers had been hardly any less intense than the fight to get out of the Revitalize facility. There’d been more thugs with firearms waiting at the bridge. Unfortunately for them, they didn’t have any bright laboratory lights to protect them from Graymalkin. He’d been angry too, a rare and dangerous thing indeed, infuriated at Cipher’s injury. They hadn’t lasted long.

  “The venture was not wholly without success,” Gray said now from where he was sitting by the laptop. He’d been even more taciturn than usual since escaping the island. Vic wondered if he was ashamed of how he’d unleashed his powers in front of them. “We know the location of both Santo and Mr Borkowski. They are being held at the church.”

  “Yeah,” Vic said bitterly. “Strapped to the top of a bonfire and probably surrounded by Purifiers.”

  “It will be another trap,” Cipher said. “Guaranteed.”

  “Oh, that’s fine then
,” Vic said, failing this time at keeping his tone in check. “We’ll just let my best friend and my dad burn to death in some ruined old church. It’s not worth the risk.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Ci replied, equally sharp. “What I’m saying is you should let me go alone.”

  “That is impractical,” Graymalkin cut in. “You are injured, and none of us are yet fully recovered from the nerve agent at the laboratory.”

  “Are we really going to do this?” Vic asked, exasperated. “Are we really going to argue over who’s going to that church today? Because none of you can stop me from going, and in all honesty, I think I stand a better chance having both of you with me.”

  “We’ll be walking right into Lobe’s clutches,” Cipher said with the slightest of smiles. “He knows the three of us now, probably knows most of our abilities too.”

  “That’s true, but he’s picked the wrong setup to snare us,” Vic said. “We’re the ones with the initiative now. And tell me who was always in the top five of our year’s covert and infiltration exercises back at the Institute?”

  He let the question dangle rhetorically before answering it.

  “We’re the ones best placed for this, and we’re not going to get another chance.”

  “Fine,” Cipher said. “But we’re not going right now. None of us are in a fit state.”

  “And give Lobe more time to prepare?” Vic asked.

  “You think he isn’t already ready for us?” Cipher pointed out. “We need food and rest, and I need to wash the rest of that nerve agent out of my eyes.”

  “Cipher is right,” Graymalkin added. “My sight is still somewhat impaired. If we strike now my powers will not be optimal, and our chances will be greatly reduced.”