Strikeforce (Book 4): Day's End

by Colleen Vanderlinden

  “Wow. They must hate me.”

  “They know you were under his control,” Jenson argued.

  “Still. There’s something about seeing someone killing your friends and colleagues that one doesn’t forget, I would guess,” I said. Then I shook my head. “How the hell do I even move forward from this? How does anyone look at me as anything other than a killer now, even if they believe I didn’t do it of my own accord?”

  Nobody had an answer for that. We talked about food, instead.

  Later in the day, Dr. Ali and Lorne came to see me. She looked me over and he explained what he’d done. I was taken up to the hospital wing and put under, and when I woke, the back of my head and neck was bandaged and I had the kind of headache that makes you want to curl in on yourself and die.

  “After effects of removing his control device,” Dr. Ali said softly, patting my shoulder. “It will get better in time.”

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  “It’s good to have you back, Jolene,” she said.

  The next few days were more of the same. Visits from friends and teammates, updates on what was going on. Portia was trying to get Killjoy to admit to mind controlling me, so they’d have him on record saying it, but he wasn’t saying a word. According to her, he was mostly just sitting there with a smug smile on his face and creeping everybody the fuck out. Lorne spent time every day, under Ryan’s watchful eye, using his powers to try to uncover any other memories I may still have had somewhere deep in my mind, seeing if he could finesse things enough to improve my short term memory. It seemed like I was maybe remembering things a little longer, but, like before, I’d lose things eventually. He kept trying, and, according to Ryan, he thanked me at least three or four times a day for saving his family. They were still at Damian’s house, staying where I’d asked them to, but they’d spoken with him on the phone. I’d told him they didn’t have to stay there unless they wanted to be there, but Lorne and his family seemed to be of the same mind, that as long as I needed them, they were there.

  Apparently, Damian’s house was currently being cleaned from top to bottom, the lawn mowed, stuff like that.

  After another slow but still frustrating session with Lorne, I glanced over at Ryan.

  “Can you hand me the notes again?”

  He stood up and handed the stack of notes to me. I’d allowed them to free one of my hands, mostly so I could read my notes without someone having to stand there holding them up for me. I found the notes I was looking for.

  “Daemon,” I said quietly. “Mental manipulation?”

  Ryan nodded.

  “Do we know where he is?”

  “He’s here. He and his ex girlfriend and their daughter live here under our protection because he pissed Killjoy off. He’s also in our custody because he’s done some awful shit in his life.”

  I glanced at my notes again. “Can someone bring him here?”

  He studied me for a moment, then nodded and walked out. A few minutes later, he came back with Portia, Jenson, and a tall, dark-haired man. The man had a dampener around his neck. He gave me a respectful nod when he walked into the room.

  “Daystar. It’s good to have you back.”

  “Tell me what your relationship is like with me. I don’t remember.”

  He smiled. “Back in the day, you hunted me just like you hunted everyone on Mayhem. I was Mayhem,” he repeated. “I worked for Killjoy.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m also a member of the Giannotti crime family,” he said. I gestured for a pen, and Portia handed it to me. I added that tidbit to my notes.

  “Okay, what else?” I asked him.

  “Killjoy threatened my daughter and my ex. Tried to use them to ensure I’d be compliant. He was really big on the whole control thing. Which I guess you probably know now better than anyone.”

  I nodded, and he continued.

  “So I hid my family, and then I tried to disappear. When I did that, both Mayhem and my family, who were allied with Mayhem, wanted my head. I hid, and I ran, and I gathered evidence to implicate Killjoy and my family in the crimes they’ve committed. I turned myself in to you and negotiated to have my daughter and her mom live here so they’d be safe. And here we are.”

  I bit the inside of my lip. “What are your feelings toward me?”

  “Toward you? You saved and protected the only two people in this world I give a damn about. I’ve never done the whole loyalty thing. Too concerned with my own selfish desires. But you? You, I have nothing but respect and loyalty for.”

  I took a breath. “I was mind controlled by Killjoy.”

  “I know.”

  “He had his doctor/mind control expert erase my memories, but there are still things in there, echoes of things I swear I can almost remember, but then they drift away.”

  “That must be incredibly frustrating.”

  “It is. Which is why I want you to use your powers to help me.”

  He stared at me, then glanced at Portia, whose mouth was open in surprise. “Um. I use people’s minds against them. I take their deepest fears and make them real.”

  “Right. So you have the ability to get into someone’s head and pull out things that maybe they don’t even know are in there.”

  He seemed to be thinking about it. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I mean, the things I find… they’re not pleasant. They’re personal, and terrible, and—”

  “I need to gain some ground here. Maybe it’ll shake a few things lose.”

  “Jolene, are you sure about this?” Ryan asked, eyes on Daemon.

  “I am. Will you help me?” I asked Daemon. He nodded, and then Portia went over to him and removed his dampening collar.

  “No funny business,” she muttered.

  “No funny business,” he promised.

  The next hour was not pretty. Daemon went to work almost immediately, delving into my mind and drawing out my worst fears, showing them to me in vivid detail, making it feel like I was living them. At first, the fears were obvious: reliving Mama’s death, Ryan getting hurt, Ryan getting killed and me being unable to save him. Me killing Jensons. Me killing my entire team and leaving a trail of bodies in my wake. Me being under Killjoy’s control again, unable to do the simplest things of my own free will. Being trapped in confined places, crawling with spiders, men coming out of an abandoned building and chasing me down.

  After that last one, I gave a hoarse shout of victory, and the visions stopped. I glanced at Daemon. Like me, he was drenched in sweat. His face was pale, his breathing labored.

  “That last one. I remember. I remember exactly when that happened. And now it’s there. Holy fuck, that actually worked.”

  He gave me a weak smile. “That’s good. Do you really want a brain full of terrifying memories, though? That can’t be good.”

  I shrugged. “It’ll be better than it being empty. And who knows? Maybe if I remember enough shit that has scared me, some of the better stuff will start to fill itself in, too. Thank you.”

  He nodded, and Portia activated his dampening collar again. She looked pale, too, and a glance at Ryan showed that it hadn’t been a pretty experience for him, either. He gave Portia a nod as she led Daemon out.

  “Same time tomorrow, Daemon?” I asked him.

  He turned and glanced at me, nodded. “Whenever you want.”

  The doors closed behind them, and I looked back at Ryan.

  “The shit you’re willing to put yourself through,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Well, it’s either spend the rest of my life in this cell, or get my mind back. Make sure I’m still not under anyone’s control somehow. It’s worth it.”

  He met my eyes. I knew Lorne had told him what Killjoy’s control phrase had been. He hadn’t said it at all even though I’d known he wanted to. He’d started saying something several times, his mouth opening before he clamped it shut again, regret in his eyes. I wished I’d heard him say it, at least once before all this had happ
ened, but I had the feeling that would have been something I’d remember, even in my current state. Maybe someday, I’d be able to handle it, but for now, it was just one more thing on a long list of messes Killjoy had made in my life.

  Ryan leaned down and gently pressed his lips to mine, and I drank in the sensation of someone I adored and completely trusted touching me, so gently, so lovingly that I had to blink back tears. For the first time in a long time, they weren’t tears of sadness, pain, or remorse.

  “Want you forever,” he murmured against my lips.

  I smiled. “Want you forever, too,” I told him, and he smiled, maybe the first real smile I’d seen from him in the days since I’d returned.

  “We’re gonna make this work.”

  “We are.”

  He sat down in the chair. “Portia offered me a co-leader position. Apparently, she’s good at organization, and I’m good at getting people to act.”

  I grinned. “The two of you leading this team? It’s going to be a thing of beauty.”

  “I was thinking of turning it down. It’ll mean less time for other, more important things.”

  I took a breath. “You should take it. You know this was the kind of thing you were born to do. You’re good at it. I swear I remember that much.”

  He shook his head. “I want to be there for you when you need me.”

  “And I want you to be fulfilled and make a difference, because that’s what matters to you. I have my own shit to work through. We’ll make it work. But just looking at you, I can tell you want to do this.”

  He shook his head and let out a low laugh. “Even with most of your memories gone, you still know me better than anyone in the entire world. How is that even possible?”

  “Maybe some things are deeper than memory,” I said softly.

  He met my eyes and nodded, and then he kissed me again, and it was better than any injection Lorne ever could have given me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  One Week Later…

  I was trying to sleep, but my mind kept going over everything from my latest meeting with Dr. Ali, Lorne, and Portia. They were all of one mind: that the brainwashing part of what Killjoy had done to me seemed to be gone. There was no evidence that any of it was still in effect. They all seemed ready to let me out, and they would have already, without a doubt, if it hadn’t been completely clear that this was my call, not theirs.

  I hated feeling this way, feeling like at any second, I could lose control of myself again. And no matter what they’d done to try to get my mind back to its old state, the fact was that my powers were changed, likely forever. I’d always have the invisibility and teleportation, as well as the enhanced senses now. Every second of my life, every breath I took, was a reminder that he’d done things to me, things I’d never asked for, things I actively would have fought against had I had a choice. He did them when I’d been knocked out, unable to defend myself, and now I had constant reminders of one of the last things he’d said to me that night: “You are what I made you.”

  I hated him for that, more than anything else. Almost as much as I hated him for Mama, even, and I wouldn’t have thought that was possible.

  I closed my eyes again. I tried to focus on all of the good things I had a chance to be a part of again now that I was free of him. Saving people instead of terrifying them, for one. Of course, I still had to somehow win back any trust I’d managed before it had all fallen apart, but eventually, I could do it. And the team had been amazing at reminding everyone at every possible moment that I was being mind-controlled by Killjoy. I really had to thank Portia for that. I would not have blamed her, for even a second, if she’d tried to distance herself and the team from me once I’d started hurting people, but she’d taken the opposite attitude, that I needed somebody to stand by me. I’d never forget that.

  I wrote it down, just to be sure.

  So, StrikeForce. Hanging out with Jenson and David and Dani again. Watching mushy gushy movies with Jenson, which she assured me I loved.

  Ryan, and everything that came with him. I wanted it, him. All of it. This whole experience, and how he’d handled it… there was no doubt in my mind that he’d be by my side through anything, that he wanted to be there. And I wanted to be the same thing for him.

  One more reason to work hard and make sure my head was straight. One more reason to try to get myself back and, even more, figure out what came next.

  I must have dozed off eventually, because I was startled awake by the sound of sirens. I looked around, out into the corridors through the windows in my cell, and I could see the flashing lights in the hallways that accompanied the sirens. Those sirens, that particular sound, was one I’d only heard once before, but I’d never forget it: prison break.

  Which meant one thing: Killjoy was out.

  People ran past my cell.

  “Fuck,” I muttered.

  I pressed the comm control on the arm of my chair. David had set it up to be a direct line between me and Jenson. “Jenson. Let me out of here. Is it Killjoy?”

  “It’s him,” she answered over the speaker in my cell, sounding out of breath. “I’m on my way down there now. I was hoping you’d say that. He’s kicking the shit out of us. The only good thing is that he can’t port anywhere, not in Command. You’re sure about this?”

  “Can any of you take him down?” I asked.

  “You already know the answer to that, Jo.”

  Seconds later, she was at the door of my cell, and it was opening, and then she was quickly undoing the shackles around my wrists, ankles, neck. Off came the dampener, and I stood on slightly shaky legs.

  “Where?” I asked, my pulse thundering in my ears.

  “He’s nearly out of the men’s wing now. He had help.”

  “Chance,” I muttered, and she nodded as we ran down the corridor.

  “Yeah. I don’t know how she got back in here. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Most things don’t.”

  There was a small crowd of SF and members of the other hero teams, as well as prison guards ahead of us, and I could see Killjoy, Raider, Chance, and the red leather twins all fighting against our people, the varied uniforms of the different hero teams fighting as one.

  “Killjoy!” I roared, and I flew into him, knocking him back. “Secure those assholes,” I shouted at my SF partners. “You are mine, bitch,” I hissed as I stalked toward him. He was picking himself up out of the metal wall behind him, the surface crinkled and folded like paper with the impact of the way I’d bashed into him. He swiped at the blood leaking from his nose.

  And then he laughed.

  “You think you can win this, sweetheart? I’ll always win.”

  I sent out another blast of power, and he went flying back again.

  “You were saying?” I muttered, hitting out at him again when he tried to stand. “Can’t run, huh? Otherwise you’d be gone. Such a coward, Killjoy.”

  “Call me Connor!” he shouted, sounding as deranged as I knew him to be. “This fucking Killjoy shit. Call me Connor again. Name me, Jolene!”

  I hit him again.

  “Just give me my name again. I miss you so much.”

  I laughed. It was an unhinged sound, and I knew it was. The idea that I’d taken something from him was enough to make me hysterical. Soon, he was laughing as well. We both stopped, and I saw his eyes light up with hope.

  “It’ll always be the two of us, my smart girl. Always. You know that, right? You’ve always known. Wherever you are, I’ll be there. I’ll find you, no matter how many times you walk away. We both know where you belong, and it sure the fuck isn’t here. Your blood flows through my veins, through my heart. I’m part of you, you’re part of me.”

  “You know, that shit would sound romantic, almost, if anyone else on Earth said it,” I said quietly. I could hear the battle still raging behind me, the sirens still screaming.

  “You are never, ever getting rid of me. I’m in your head, in your body, in your power.
Everything you are is tied to me. Why are you fighting this?”

  “I have remade myself so many times already, Killjoy,” I said, emphasizing the name. “I can do it again.”

  “Outwardly, maybe. But you’ll know, deep inside, that in the end, I was the one who made you. First, I made you a hero. Then, I made you know what it is to hate. I taught you how to be ruthless. And then, I made you a murderer, a villain. You think you can leave any of that behind, sweetheart? We both know the answer to that.”

  The sounds of battle seemed to be growing quieter, less. Soon, someone would come to see if I needed help.

  “I had no choice in the murders you made me commit,” I said quietly.

  “Do you think any of them care, really? Do you really think any of them will ever look at you with anything other than fear and distrust in their eyes?”

  “I had no choice then,” I repeated quietly, raising my eyes to Killjoy’s. “And you’re right. I know you’ll never stop.”

  He grinned, sensing victory.

  “Smart girl.”

  “But this time, I choose this,” I whispered. And I sprang at him, the memory of too many deaths at my hands echoing through my mind. “You won’t live to regret teaching me how to do this,” I assured him, knocking him back with my power. When he tried to sit up, I punched him in the face, rocking his head back so it smacked into the wall behind him. He was woozy, looking up at me in confusion and, finally, there it was. Fear.

  “Goodbye, Killjoy,” I said. And then I used the same move I’d used against a few of those he’d made me kill, punching out and up, hard, my fist making contact with his nose. Bone shattered beneath my fist, shards impaling his brain, and I saw the life fade from his eyes in an instant.

  I rose up and stepped back, away from him. He was still as a statue. I expected to feel… something. But I felt nothing. I wasn’t happy with myself, exactly. But I wasn’t upset, either.