“No. Only my friends call me that. You don’t get to do that anymore.”
“Fine. Iridium. You don’t understand what happened back then.”
“Right, so says the high-and-mighty Jet, Lady of Shadows, the Hero of New Chicago.” Iridium snorted her derision. “You’re so fucking pretentious, acting like you didn’t stab me in the back five years ago.”
“And you’re so damn self-centered,” Jet said, shaking her head, feeling anger and sadness warring in her heart.
Iridium rolled her eyes. “Coming from you, that’s really something.”
“Damn it, Iri, I helped you!”
“You got my ass sentenced to Blackbird! How’s that defined as help, even in the loosest sense of the word?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jet growled, remembering how she’d begged Night, pleaded with him to interfere on that fateful day, and how he’d stood there and scorned her.
“Don’t I?” Iridium sneered. “You were supposed to have my back, Joan! We were partners. Fuck that—we were friends. Remember that? How many times did I stand up for you at Academy? How much trouble did I get into, all because I had to take care of you?”
“I never asked you to take care of me!”
“But you walked away from our friendship, all because of the Academy and Corp!”
“I did what I did because we were friends,” Jet shouted, “because someone had to intervene on your behalf. And damn it all to Darkness, Callie, it was the best I could do! It was still better than what they wanted to do to you!”
Iridium’s mouth opened, a retort on her tongue, but then she seemed to really hear Jet’s words, and she paused. “You’re the one who got me sentenced to Blackbird,” she said.
“Yes.”
“And you’re sitting here now, telling me that was helping me?”
Jet sighed. “Yes.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that?”
“Frankly, I don’t care if you believe it or not. It’s true.” Jet lowered her voice, said, “And when you escaped, they made my life a living nightmare. They never let me forget that you were my fault.”
“Aw, poor little hero. That’s what they were holding over you all this time? A little fubar like that was enough to keep you leashed and barking when they said ‘dog’?”
“No.” Jet closed her eyes. “What’s done is done, Callie.”
“Yeah, right. Done, my ass. You can’t wait to bust out of here and drag me to the EC. Crow to the media about how you’d finally corrected your mistake from five years ago!”
“A week ago,” Jet said softly, “you would have been right. Even earlier today, you would have been right.”
Maybe Iridium heard something in her voice, because she stopped hurling accusations at Jet, barbs that cut into her and bled her soul.
Light, how long have I been their puppet?
“Jet?”
“They got into my mind,” she whispered. “They did something to me, and—oh Light, they did something to my mind. I can’t even say their name without thinking happy thoughts, and even as I’m saying this, I still want to serve them and be the hero and get a pat on the head!” She was shouting by then, but she couldn’t stop, couldn’t hold back her rage. “They brainwashed me so completely that I can’t even say their name when I want to curse them all to Darkness!”
Her words echoed in the still air, and she panted, trying to regain some semblance of control.
Iridium broke the silence. “What happened, Jet?”
Not daring to open her eyes, Jet told her about Night putting her on the hunt for Lynda Kidder—about Frostbite’s hostile help, about Martin Moore and what he and Everyman had done to the reporter. About how she was instructed to back up the claim that the Undergoths, with Iri’s help, had tortured and murdered Kidder. About her last call with Night. About Everyman having an agreement with—
Her brain caught fire.
Jet doubled over, almost bit through her lip to keep from screaming as searing pain stole her thoughts.
Slowly, the agony faded, leaving behind a steady ache in her temples. Jet opened her eyes, blinked back tears. She was curled up on her side, and her throat hurt.
“Joannie?” Iri’s voice, soft and surprisingly tender. “Can you hear me?”
“Yeah.” She swallowed, winced from the rawness. She must have screamed after all.
“I think I know how they did it.”
Jet whipped her head around to stare at Iri, then almost vomited from the motion. Damned stun-cuffs. She ground out, “How?”
“Your comlink.”
Jet’s throat tightened, and she sucked in a labored breath. When she’d had the first … episode … in her apartment, hadn’t she wanted to shove the earpiece into place? Hadn’t she had a wild urge to tuck the comlink into her ear and tap it on?
“Before I took down Ops,” Iridium said, “I saw hundreds of frequencies broadcasting. Not receiving. Not connected to the main network.”
Jet blinked at Iridium, not wanting to understand.
“Don’t you get it?” Iri said. “They have been brainwashing you—really brainwashing you—and the Squadron … shit, even the students at Academy. For years. Not counting those of us who never wore the damned earpiece, I guess …”
Iridium kept talking, but Jet didn’t hear her.
“You missed part of the uniform,” Night says that day back in Second Year. “The most important part.”
Oh Light, no.
Something else gleams at the bottom of the plastic wrapping. Jet reaches into the bag and scoops up a metallic earpiece.
Had he known, back then?
“When you’re old enough to go on missions, the comlink will connect you directly to Ops.”
Had Night known what he was giving her? What he was sentencing her to? She’d thought he was her savior, the man who’d stopped the voices, the Shadow power who’d lived without losing his mind. Her hope for salvation.
“I was thirteen,” Jet whispered.
“I understand your rage,” Night says to her just earlier today, his voice quiet, and utterly terrifying. “Trust me, I understand. And a reckoning will come.”
Jet’s stomach lurched, and she retched in the corner of the tiny room.
“Great,” she heard Iridium say over the sound of her heaving. “Trapped was bad. Trapped and stinking of puke is worse.”
When Jet finished, she rose to her knees. Shaking. Tears streaming down her face. And so much hatred in her that her heart must have shriveled and died. “When we get out of here,” she hissed, “someone’s going to answer for this.”
“Sounds good to me. Teensy problem, though.”
Jet looked at Iridium’s smug mouth, her battered face.
“We’re still in stun-cuffs, in a closet.”
“Well,” Jet said, “you’re the genius, and I’m the hero. We’ll figure something out.”
“I prefer ‘evil genius.’”
“So that makes me the tortured hero.”
“Kook.”
“Criminal.”
The words came easily, naturally. Iri grinned, and so did Jet, and there in the dimly lit room, five years of hatred began to unwind.
“So,” Iri said, “a plan. We bust out of here, kill Taser, and tell all to the press.”
“That’s a plan?”
“The foundation of one.”
“Has problems,” Jet said. “The killing, for one.”
“Maiming, then. He’s in for a world of hurt. I’m going to make him sorry his daddy ever laid eyes on his mother.”
“Hey. You took down Ops?”
“Yeah.”
Jet remembered the shrilling alarm from her earpiece. “You officially get to be ‘evil genius.’”
Iri grinned at her.
“Can you touch your power at all?”
“Not even enough to make the bulb overhead go up a watt. You?”
Jet reached inside, tried to touch the part of
her that was one with the shadows, but it slipped through her fingers like sand. “No. Any way to get the cuffs off?”
“Sure. With the key.”
“You’re real helpful.”
“Modesty’s my best quality.”
Jet opened her mouth, but that was when the door opened. A figure stood framed in the doorway, sporting tactical gear, a black stocking over his face and welding goggles over his eyes. Jet recognized the man she’d thought was Iridium’s lackey, and she narrowed her eyes at him.
“Ladies,” he said. “Glad to see you two getting along so famously. Aren’t you glad I brought you together?”
CHAPTER 60
IRIDIUM
Betrayal of a cohort is unusual in supervillain circles. But when it comes, it is swift, deadly, and leaves broken hearts and bodies in its wake.
Lynda Kidder, “Flight of the Blackbird,” New Chicago Tribune, July 2, 2112
Iridium looked up into Taser’s face, saw her own bloody mess reflected in his goggles.
She tried to struggle up, but vertigo overcame her. “I’m going to kill you,” she ground out from the floor.
“I’m just doing my job, sweetheart,” Taser said, stepping back as if her glare could sear him. “You can’t blame me for your mistakes.”
“The only mistake I made was not dumping you headfirst off that rooftop,” Iridium snarled. “You planned to be there, with the Undergoths. They sent me right to you. You used me, is what’s the worst.”
Taser laughed. “You’re being pretty easy on yourself, doll. You swallowed my origin story. You let me into your sanctuary, you told me your secrets, you left me with the opportunity to neutralize you, all because you trusted me. That’s not a mistake, Iridium—that’s just sloppy.”
There was a note of reproach in his voice, and he didn’t appear to be mocking her, which only pissed Iridium off more. “I never trusted you, Taser,” she lied. “I just never thought you were a threat to me. You’re pathetic.”
He shook his head. “Now, that isn’t true. You left me alone in your warehouse. You trusted me, if only a little. But it was there. Weakness.”
“Trust isn’t weakness,” said Iridium. “Letting trust blind you is. And I was never blind, Taser.”
“Oh yeah? Then how come you’re trussed up in here?”
Jet looked at Iridium. “You left him alone? In your house?”
“Shut up, Joan,” Iridium said wearily. “All that matters now is that we’re seeing his real face.” She looked back at Taser. “Treacherous, and crazy.”
“Crazy?” Taser laughed softly. “You’re one to talk, Iridium. I don’t dress up in a wig and go visit my father every week because I can’t let go. I don’t think that Corp can be knocked out by a stupid spy-novel scheme.”
“Not nearly as stupid as pissing me off,” she snarled, feeling impotent and hating it. “You seemed pretty keen on the idea.”
“I was paid to be. Just like I was paid to get close to Joan.” He turned to face Jet, but he kept speaking to Iridium. “She was harder than you, Iridium. Mistrustful. Totally living in a world of her own creation. That ought to tell you something.”
Jet spluttered, “What are you talking about? Until the tunnels, I’d never seen you before.”
He looked at Jet, long and hard. “You so sure, honey? You need me to take off the mask? Really? Maybe tell you again about how I’d fallen for you when you saved me and the others from Crusher Jones all those years ago?”
Iridium saw the blood drain from Jet’s face. Joan whispered, “Bruce?”
Taser doffed an imaginary cap. “Hi, honey. Was it good for you too?”
“You played me.” Jet’s voice was so low, Iridium could barely catch the words. “I let you in, trusted you. And you played me.”
“Like a violin. Don’t feel too bad. You couldn’t help but feel a tingle every time we touched.” He rubbed his fingers together, and through his gloves, sparks flew. “Perk of working with electricity.”
Jet gasped, then let out her breath in a long hiss. “You made me feel that way?”
“Oh, don’t get all high-and-mighty, honey. You sure didn’t complain last night, when I made you see stars … what was it, three times? Or four? I sort of lost count.”
“You bastard …”
Iridium stared at Jet. “You let him into your bed?” Oh, Christo. In that moment, her slip of leaving Taser to steal her neural inhibitor seemed minor. Joan would never recover from something like that. Iridium’s gut knifed, thinking of what it must feel like to know the man in your bed was scheming to kill you, or worse.
Jet ignored her, said to Taser, “I trusted you.”
“Lesson learned, eh, darlin’?” He shook his head. “That goes for both of you. You want to survive, you have to stop trusting. Heh, trust me on that.”
“I swear,” Jet whispered, her slight body trembling, “when I get out of here, I’m going to make you regret using me. I swear it.”
“You’re going to have to wait in line,” Iridium snarled. “Let me guess, Taser—you’re with Everyman?”
He snorted. “Not hardly. They hate anyone with powers, Iridium. That includes me.”
“Then who?” Iridium said.
“Sorry, I’m not going to blab about who’s employing me. Merc code. I do have a system I follow, you know.”
“Mercenary,” Jet said tightly. “I should have made you. I should have—”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t,” said Taser, crossing his arms. “You expected me to be strong and true, like in those damn novels you’re always reading. And Iridium expected me to be cruel but pure-hearted, like her precious daddy.”
“Shut up,” Jet muttered. “Just shut up.”
“Oh, ignore him,” Iridium said. Taser might have worked under Jet’s skin, but if her five years away from Corp had taught Iridium anything, it was adaptability. “He’s just trying to upset us so we’re nice and compliant when his boss shows up.”
“Got me there,” said Taser, shrugging.
“You are such a sanctimonious piece of crap,” Iridium hissed. “How could you ever think I bought your line?”
“Didn’t you tell me yourself that arrogance is death?” Taser said mildly. “I never assumed anything more than that I’d finish my job. You two were both so desperate for something that you didn’t care what I really was. And you, Iridium—you never assumed I was a threat. Arrogance. And you paid.”
Iridium fell silent.
“You’re scum,” Jet muttered.
He cocked his head. “I did my job, Jet. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Who’s your boss?” Iridium snarled. “Are they going to ramble on for as long as you have?”
“He’ll be here shortly,” said Taser, glancing at his wristlet. “And my job goes no further than that. You’ve both been delivered, on time. That’s all I care about.”
“Delivered where? Come on,” Iridium drawled, “this is the part where you reveal everything.”
He cocked his head. “You really want to know? You’re in the Academy, in the old meditation room. Specifically, the storage closet.” He chuckled. “Want to take bets on whether a hero’s going to walk through that door and save you? Oh, wait—the heroes are a little tied up, aren’t they, Iridium?”
Her lip curled, but she said nothing.
“Well, ladies, I’ve got to go. It’s been a pleasure working with you both—a real pleasure, in Joan’s case.”
“Bastard,” Jet spat.
“And Callie,” said Taser, her name sounding like a slur, “if you ever get past your daddy issues and that raging ego, we may really have something.”
His comm beeped, and he tapped it. “I understand, sir. Yes. Yes, everything is in order.” He turned and gave Iridium and Jet a salute. “And now I must bid you farewell. See you around, ladies.”
The door behind Taser slid open before he could key it.
“Not so fast,” said Night.
CHAPTER 61
; JET
Eventually, the supervillain will reveal all to the superhero. Their egos won’t allow for anything else.
Lynda Kidder, “Flight of the Blackbird,” New Chicago Tribune, July 2, 2112
Jet had truly thought this day couldn’t get any worse when Taser revealed himself as Bruce—her Runner, oh Light, her freaking Runner, how could she have been so stupid?
But then she heard Night’s voice, and she looked past Bruce—no, Taser; Bruce was a lie—and saw her mentor looming behind the merc, larger than life, dressed as a hero in his battlesuit, the body armor gleaming blackly.
At first, her heart leapt for joy. Night had found them! He’d free them, and together they’d take down Taser.
But then he said to Taser, “Bring them in for me while I get the machine ready,” and Jet’s world lurched to the left.
She must have said something aloud, because Night turned to regard her. She couldn’t see his eyes beneath his cowl, but she thought she saw something gleam in the shadows of his face. “Patience, Jet. The day of reckoning is at hand.”
“‘Reckoning?’” That was Iridium, all bluster and fury. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Such a mouth on you. Heroes have better manners.” Night smiled thinly. “But you’re no hero, are you, Iridium? You’re a selfish Light power, same as your father.”
“You shut up about my father!”
“She’s got daddy issues,” Taser said.
“Indeed.” He glanced at Jet again, who shivered when Night’s smile bloomed into a feral grin. “But don’t we all?”
“Yeah, whatever. Who do I bring in first?”
“Iridium. Strap her to the base.” Night’s gaze remained on Jet, who couldn’t move. This wasn’t happening.
Light, please, this can’t be happening. Not Night.
Not him.
Taser said, “Want the neural inhibitor on her?”
“That would defeat the entire purpose. But I suggest you keep the cuffs on her, unless you like it hot.”
“Not in this context. Come on, darlin’,” Taser said to Iridium. “On your feet.”
“Blow me,” Iri growled.
Taser chuckled. “I’m happy to carry you like the damsel in distress that you are. Or you can walk under your own wobbly power. Up to you.”
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