by David Reiss
“Nyx will miss you,” she murmured, blue-glowing eyes averted towards the ground. “You know, the first few weeks are important when socializing a puppy to a new environment.”
“I’ll be back in the morning,” I said, and inwardly winced when part of me wondered if I was lying.
“You have work tomorrow.” The delicate little android girl bent to stroke at her black furred companion’s back. “We won’t see you for long.”
Nyx was looking up at me, wagging nervously with tail held low. What did she see in me, I wondered? Did she have some strange canine ability to sense that I was a killer? Could she smell the imaginary blood on my hands?
I looked away, searching the cupboard for canned chili to add to my bag. “It’s only one night, Whisper. You’ll be fine.”
“Mm,” she shook her head. “It’s not fine. There’s things going on with Cherenkov, with Cloner. I need to tell you-”
“Not tonight!” I closed the cabinet a bit louder than I’d intended; my ward/adopted sister and her dog both flinched. “I just…I need to get out of the house.”
“We could come with you,” Whisper said in a rush. “We could go to the cabin in Maine! It’s pretty there, and quiet!”
“Sweetheart, I want-” My voice cracked, and I grimaced. “I should be alone.”
“You’re wrong,” she insisted, tremulously. “I was alone for years after my Father died. It was terrible.”
She sounded as though she wanted to cry, but synthetic tear ducts hadn’t been designed into her current body; I’d hoped that she’d never need them. My chest hurt and a new wave of guilt flushed over me and I dared not look at her directly.
“I’m sorry,” I told her. “You didn’t deserve that.”
“Neither do you.”
**You’re wrong,** I sent, unable to speak aloud; she crossed the room to try and embrace me, but I flinched away and she flooded heartbreak to me over the neural link. I broke and sobbed for the both of us, scooping her up into a hug.
“I don’t understand,” she whimpered unsteadily against my shoulder, “You always say that you’re a bad man. Why are you so broken up about doing a bad thing to another bad man? You’ve done other bad things and I still got hugs.”
“Oh, sweetheart…I’m not guilty over what I did to Imperator Rex,” I said, though I probably should be—I generally disapprove of torture and I could have found a cleaner way to end him. “But that’s not why I’m-why I’m so upset.”
“What, then?”
“Because on my way back from Chicago, I happened across an overturned transport vehicle and helped contain a dangerous chemical leak. I saved six people.”
“But that’s a heroic thing!”
“Yes,” I nodded. “And I was a murderer pretending to be a hero. Just like Peregrine. Just like Sphinx. Just like Bronze.”
“…oh.”
“I don’t think I can maintain the charade any longer,” I set Whisper back down and Nyx licked at her ankles, tail lashing now in hopeful play. “It seemed like a fun game at the beginning, but now…it feels too raw.”
“It feels too real,” my android sister amended softly. “So stop pretending. Be an actual hero.”
“Being a hero is about more than just doing good things,” I shook my head sadly. “People look up to heroes, they worship them; real heroes are worthy role-models. I can—have—saved entire planets, but it doesn’t change what I am.”
“Nothing can change what you were,” Whisper corrected sagely. “What you want to be tomorrow? That, you get to choose.”
I snorted incredulously, “Okay, clever girl, be honest: how many self-help books have you read since this conversation started?”
“A lot,” she replied shyly. “But it’s true, I think. The Red Ghost said you’d be a good hero.”
“The Red Ghost is a fine man, but he doesn’t know me as well as he thinks he does. The old Doctor Fid—the monstrous Fid—still lives inside my head. I let it out to fight Imperator Rex.”
“And then you chained him back up as soon as he wasn’t needed anymore.” The little android knelt down to pet Nyx, who’d flopped out on top of one of her feet. She looked up at me with a sad smile, “Bobby thought you’d be a good hero.”
“…That’s a low blow, Whisper.”
“I think you’d be a good hero, too.”
I couldn’t accept that—not so easily, so painlessly. The monster still strained at its bindings, and the feeling of numb acceptance as I watched Imperator Rex’s struggles fade was still too fresh in my mind. I wasn’t ready to believe that the choice Whisper wanted of me was one that I could make.
I unpacked my bag and stayed the night at home with family. Whatever I was, whoever I’d be…I wasn’t alone.
◊◊◊
Some think it odd that I, as the CEO of a growing biotech company, do not employ an executive assistant. I handle most of my organizational tasks myself, sort through my own documents and compile my own responses. When one has a surgically-installed neural link connected via quantum-tunnel to a vast farm of supercomputers designed specifically to respond to one’s own mental commands, performing such work didn’t take very much time at all. Since my employees were unaware of said neural link, however, they assumed that I was hard at work whenever my office door was closed.
My direct reports’ employees did, however, often fill in for certain tasks on their own recognizance. As such, it was no surprise when my CTO’s assistant knocked on my door. “Dr. Markham? Your three o’clock is here.”
“Send him in,” I replied, feigning calm.
And in strolled the Red Ghost, somehow relaxed and dignified even when wearing his crimson costume in a corporate environment.
On the off chance that he wasn’t here to reveal my secret identity and have me arrested, I stepped around my desk to shake his hand. “Welcome!”
“Thank you,” he grinned, and I saw no duplicity in his eyes. “I’m glad to see that you’re recovering well.”
“I’ve been getting a lot of fresh air lately,” I replied. “My ward got a puppy, and that means more time out in the sun watching them play. It’s been good for me, I think.”
“I imagine it would be.”
“While it’s appreciated, I doubt that you came here simply to talk of my recovery.” I returned to my own seat and waved for him to take the chair opposite me. He did, lifting his long cloak to drape over the back of the chair in a well-practiced motion. “It was my understanding that Titan pled no contest. Has that changed?”
“Not at all. No, I’m here on other business.”
“Well, then…What can I do for you?”
“That is a bit of a long story,” the Hispanic man sighed, “and I’d like to start by saying that this is not intended to affect your suit at all. That having been said…it has recently been revealed that Titan suffers from a medical condition that has affected his behavior, and certainly influenced the decisions he made while mishandling your rescue.”
“I’m…sorry to hear that?”
“He’s been diagnosed with Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy; are you familiar with the condition?”
“Vaguely. It’s a degenerative brain disease, usually associated with repeated head trauma. It used to be called ‘Boxer’s Dementia’?”
“Yes.” Behind his mask, the Red Ghost’s eyes closed in sympathy for the plight of his former team leader. I supposed that most heroes must fear such an illness; it isn’t a safe profession that they’ve chosen for themselves.
Generally speaking, villains didn’t worry about disease affecting their later years; their retirement plans usually involved incarceration or a shallow grave.
“The man has my sympathies, and I’ll talk to my lawyer about dropping the lawsuit. If Titan is seeking treatment, then I’m satisfied.”
“Titan’s treatment is why I am here,” the Ghost’s expression turned serious. “Your company produces medical nanotechnology that is currently being applied towards inoperable
cancers.”
“Yes,” I replied, chest puffing with a level of pride appropriate for a CEO’s appreciation for his company’s accomplishments. “…but I’m afraid that we’re years away from being able to repair neurological issues.”
Inside, I was practically slavering with anticipation; I’d begun to formulate a hypothesis as to why the Red Ghost was here, and if I was correct then the possibilities were marvelous.
“As it happens, a third party has already performed the research and programmed an appropriate regimen.”
“That’s not possible.”
“I’m afraid that it is,” he smiled apologetically. “When Doctor Fid robbed your facility last year, he apparently escaped with samples of your nanotechnology. And according to the terms of the Technological Repatriation Act, your company has legal claim to any improvements made by a criminal third party.”
“The Guardians captured some of Doctor Fid’s Technology? That’s wonderful!”
“We’ve managed to acquire it, yes.” The Red Ghost shifted in his seat, looking slightly uncomfortable at having to let even the minor white lie of omission slip past. Heh. “I know that this is an imposition, but I would ask that you please have your team evaluate the procedures and provide a professional opinion as to whether or not this treatment could help improve Titan’s medical condition.”
Once upon a time, when I was very young, my Dad bought me a miniature lathe that was normally used for machining model railroad parts. I remembered touching the box and feeling the most remarkable sense of elation at the possibilities that lay before me. Before the wrapping was even opened, I had dozens of projects swirling through my mind. The Red Ghost’s request elicited that same giddy feeling of hope and wonder.
“It wouldn’t just help Titan; if this technology is what you say it is, it will help hundreds every month. What you’re offering will save us years’ worth of research and development.” I tilted my head and hopefully hid my childish joy, “…and superheroes are, in certain circumstances, eligible for emergency treatments that bypass FDA and medical board evaluations. You want us to perform the treatment as well, don’t you?”
“If you are willing.”
“We’ll need a contract limiting liability and also allowing us to use this for marketing purposes.” I forced an apologetic frown, “I know it sounds mercenary, but it will help us cut through red tape later.”
“That sounds reasonable; I’ll have the lawyers begin their work immediately.”
“Then I think that we have a deal.” I stood up again to shake the Red Ghost’s hand. “I’ll put together a team and oversee their progress personally!”
Perhaps I’d get the opportunity to install those micro-explosive charges within Titan’s skull after all.
◊◊◊
**Um. Terry?** Whisper sent. **Are you busy?**
**Yes,** I replied mentally. **But I can take a break.**
I was in my ocean-floor manufacturing facility designing prototypes for what would (I hoped) eventually become the Mk 38 armor. The late and unlamented Imperator Rex had left my medium-duty suit on its last legs; it would be easier to build a new version from scratch than it would be to repair the Mk 36b.
And so, the Mk 38 was slowly taking shape with orichalcum plates recycled from its predecessor. Recent brawls had reinforced the lesson that I dared not rest upon my laurels; with refined forcefields and upgraded inertial-dampening technology, the new suit would come close to equaling the defensive capabilities of the much-larger heavy-combat armor.
I started organizing and putting away my tools; the teleport platforms operated silently, but an alert was transmitted to my neural link whenever the teleport grid was in use. Whisper had come to join me. I heard her approach before I saw her; Judging from the excited sound of paws scrabbling on concrete, I guessed that she’d brought Nyx with her.
“Hey sweetheart,” I called. “I’m almost done cleaning up!”
“Mm!” she replied, though she sounded distracted. The hallway had a viewing wall of integrity-field-enhanced twelve-inch thick plexiglass; even this deep, there was often enough aquatic life visible to attract my ward’s attention. This location—hidden under a rock outcropping within a fissure—had been chosen more for security than for aesthetics. Over the years, the factory had expanded and burrowed into the surrounding walls, with automatons and production lines operating in quiet darkness. Still, there was a stark beauty to the environment and I’d added the viewing port even before Whisper had entered into my life. Her fascination with fish and other aquatic life had made visitations here a more regular occurrence.
This was, however, the first time that a puppy had been brought along. I hastily programmed my security drones to make sure that Nyx didn’t wander too close to unsafe machinery. For now, the canine seemed quite content to follow at his android mistress’ ankles; still, it would be better to be safe than sorry.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Whisper apologized as she entered my preferred lab-space. “It could’ve waited.”
“It’s fine,” I smiled, “I’m waiting on simulations anyway. What did you need?”
“Umm…Do you know how I used to spend time talking to Cherenkov online?”
“And you told him how to find Doctor Fid when I was on my way back from Lassiter’s Den.” I chuckled. “Which led to me putting the poor boy into a hospital. Yes, I do recall.”
“Well, I’ve kept in touch with him.” Whisper lowered her eyes bashfully. “I know he’s a hero, but he’s my friend.”
“That’s fine, Whisper.” I reached down to let a black-furred puppy sniff at my fingers. “You’re being careful that your communication is untraceable?”
“Mm!” She smiled proudly. “I sneaked a tiny virus into his systems; he thinks he’s reading his real forum page but it’s actually an encrypted simulation with my comments added in. Nothing I say is actually stored on his server.”
“Clever girl,” I praised, and she preened happily. “Just be careful about what you say to him, is all.”
“Yeah, about that…”
I closed my eyes and started calculating pi in my head to calm my initial reaction. “Go on.”
“It’s not that bad!” she said defensively. “I just, um, was trying to be helpful since he’s with the Junior Shield, and now he thinks that my big brother works for the Department of Metahuman Affairs.”
“Interesting.” That was, I decided, far more innocuous than many of my initial fear-spawned scenarios. Given that the little android had felt compelled to join me in the underwater lab and speak in person, I was waiting for the second shoe to drop.
“He came to me with something that he thinks that the D.M.A. should be investigating,” she said in a rush. “I told him you’d look into it.”
That…did not sound as though it was likely to result in a catastrophic outcome. I exhaled slowly, relieved.
“I’d be happy to investigate something for your friend,” I told her. “I have the means to access the D.M.A. database; if he requires an official response, I can insert records into their pipeline.”
“Really?” she perked up. “Cuboid designed their firewalls, I haven’t been able to get in.”
“I had one of my false identities added to the employee rolls decades ago,” I chuckled. “Sometimes, bribery works better than vulnerability testing.”
She pouted, “That’s cheating!”
“I just opened a route for you to access my fake-employee’s virtual private network. You can use that to get into the D.M.A. main network.”
“Ooooh.” Her glowing blue eyes seemed to lose focus for a moment as she bent the majority of her attention towards conquering a new domain. “Thank you!”
“Be careful,” I warned, still smiling indulgently. “That’s my oldest false ID, I’d prefer if it wasn’t compromised.”
She rewarded me by rolling her eyes and huffing indignantly, so I lifted a wagging puppy to lick at her nose and she exploded into giggles. I
set Nyx in her arms and her grin became incandescent. Serious thoughts were abandoned, and we adjourned to watch the ocean through the hallway’s viewing port.
“So, what did your friend need for me to investigate?” I eventually remembered to ask.
“Oh! I can take care of it now that I can get into the D.M.A.” She looked surprised and embarrassed. “It’s, um, nothing.”
For a creature who could near-instantaneously consume every book on prevarication that had ever been published, Whisper was an adorably poor liar. She’d grow out of that eventually, I knew; her emotional developmental algorithms were remarkably complex.
“Why don’t you tell me about it anyway? Maybe I can help,” I prodded gently, then frowned when she looked ready to prevaricate further.
“Okay,” she relented. “Some of Cloner’s paperwork accidentally got mixed up with Cherenkov’s. It was coded, but Corey figured out some of it and kind-of panicked. He thought Cloner brought him into the Junior Shield on false pretenses and was planning something illegal.”
“Interesting,” I said, and Whisper made the files available to me via neural link; I scanned through them quickly. “I take it that Cherenkov’s assumption was incorrect?”
“Mm. Cherenkov misunderstood some of the coded message and thought Cloner was doing something bad, but he had it backwards,” Whisper said mournfully. “Cloner thinks Cherenkov is leaking information to Doctor Fid and it’s all my fault.”
“…because you’ve been relaying information to me that you received from him.” I pursed my lips grimly. If Cloner had suspected a data breach, isolating the source would have been a relatively simple matter. He could easily have revealed different stories to different people and then waited to see how Doctor Fid reacted.
And I’d jumped through the hoops Cloner had set up like a well-trained performing animal. The meeting with Cloner at Lassiter’s Den had certainly been by design; he’d told me that he suspected a hack of his internal notification system, but he’d obviously been able to isolate the leak further to implicate the unfortunate Cherenkov.