Subject 12

by S. W. Douglas

  Then again, I hadn't pried too deeply into Magda's life outside of the bedroom. She'd wanted to keep it casual and I hadn't wanted to lose her, so I'd played it about as coolly and shallow as I could. In hindsight that had been a blunder on my part. But at the time...

  Oh, yes, at the time my brain was a little involved elsewhere when we were together. Not that she'd helped in the thinking department most of the time. Hell, toward the end when we'd tried to pretend it was a normal relationship it was so awkward it hadn't worked too well. I'd thought we'd made some progress before she left, but then she was gone and I had to look over everything I'd done with the taint of failure to it.

  Mistakes had been made. Tactically I'd survived the skirmishes without taking anything but mild casualties, and even taken several major objectives, but strategically I'd lost the engagement.

  Now that was an interesting word choice.

  Events of the last few days had shown I was terribly out of practice, out of shape, and had grown sloppy, both in thought and deed. True; there were no signs the ambush was brewing that I could see, even looking back over things. Also true; I had no clue how Kinsey had tracked me down so precisely. Three things seemed most likely; their detectors were working better, I had let something slip, or someone who knew me had sold me out.

  Now why had that last part only just occurred to me? I had to be honest. This was the first time I'd been thinking rationally about it. The flight to Reno hadn't exactly been under the best circumstances, though I could say without shame I'd been so out of practice that maintaining steady flight had required a lot of my mental abilities. What was left had been thinking about how I was going to get in the door to the Guild.

  The Rat was a perfect choice. Posey was never out of sight for long and Brick was about as likely to have finked on me as, well, a brick. But The Rat was gone for hours at a crack. If we found a good hiding place we might not see him for more than a day.

  None of that explained how they'd known we'd be in that precise building, even if it would explain why he was nowhere to be seen about the time the trap was sprung. Damn it.

  Paranoia was a two-edged sword.

  In the end it didn't matter if I'd been ratted out or not. Alpha Zulu had a portable resistor field generator that they could transport in the back of a couple of trucks that was powerful enough to stop me in my tracks if I was off my game at all --- that was a threat worth worrying about. So was the fact that, most likely, they now had portable detectors that could sniff me out without my having exerted much. Or possibly at all.

  It was flattering that they'd spent that much time and money finding a way to track me down. It was probably personal, admittedly. What I'd done to Kinsey as my two-week notice had been rather messy. On the other hand, he might be more interested in my blood --- the serum in it had worked, and had worked without driving me insane or turning me into a vegetable. That was, near as I could tell, a first for a norm. That it'd done so much to me, given me so potent a set of abilities, was icing on the cake.

  I was also nervous about the sudden upswing in the attention level. Alpha Zulu was powerful, and did not make good enemies. Maybe it was time I started enlisting allies.

  I laughed. I laughed loudly and heartily and for longer than I'd thought I could without needing to breathe.

  Who would help me? Especially now that I'd killed three members of the Heroes' Guild, in the middle of their frigging dining hall, in front of at least a hundred blooded Heroes? The Villain's Confederation? I wouldn't go looking for allies anywhere near them and their neuroses without a cobalt bomb big enough to wipe out half of Ireland.

  Who knew what else the gadgeteers had been up to since I'd left. It wasn't like I'd taken a tour of the labs every day while I was there.

  I needed to button down and start practicing again. I needed to start working out, working up, and meditating again to get my focus back.

  Don't get me wrong. I was still sharp. But I wasn't the razor's edge I knew I needed to be. I'd been dulled by all the time I'd spent hiding my abilities instead of reveling in them.

  Of course, the best part of getting back in shape would be quite tangible. Not only would I feel better, physically, but I wouldn't have to exert as hard to use my abilities. That translated into less residue. Less residue meant more freedom.

  More freedom was the goal, right? Solitude was good for now, but tomorrow I might want someone to talk to.

  Even the illusion of freedom was better than nothing.

  I was left alone for the rest of the day. The fluorescent lights dimmed without warning at one point. I guess it was "lights out" or something like that. It didn't matter to me. I'd given in and tried to meditate quite some time before that. The difficulty I was having with it was further proof I was out of practice with everything.

  Like I needed another reminder.

  However, since I hadn't moved in what must have been hours (at least my muscle control was still good, though it had been touch-and-go for a while there), someone must have assumed I was asleep or dead to the world in another way. That was only a guess, but I couldn't think of any other reason why my stubby host and a tall, slim stranger walked into view, talking quietly, and stopped right in front of my cell.

  I say into view. I'd been keeping my eyes mostly closed. They were open just enough I could stay aware of the outside world without making the outside world the entirety of my focus. It wasn't ideal for meditation, but it was needed if I wanted to stay alive. At least that was the theory.

  What I'd managed to achieve was a nearly-blank state of mind. It was restful and it let my brain start piecing things together in my subconscious. That was always dangerous to some degree because I had no control over it, and sometimes partially-completed thoughts would spring to the fore and throw me off or would take a lot of prodding to give up the information at all, but since it left my conscious mind free I was willing to take the tradeoff.

  So far it had remained quiet. That had let me keep my focus on more immediately important things.

  Like listening to what these two were talking about.

  "... why I caught the first flight down. My wife had to stay and I had to be here, so I didn't dare ask her to jump me here. The two hours she'd be stuck between jumps would have been a big problem. Anyone who can move like this bastard did and not break a sweat from it is worth a second look."

  "I still say he's too dangerous to leave alive, but I'll bow to y'all who say you know better. My gut tells me to break his goddamn neck. That's why I agreed to pick him up and fly him back personally. I don't like leavin' here if I don't fuckin' have to and you know that." I recognized the voice. Apparently my jailor wasn't as dumb as he'd lead me to believe. "Talkin' about it like I'm on 'vacation' ain't gonna make it true."

  "Yes, I know, and that means I know why. You're the only one we trust to keep him in line while we figure out what we're going to do with him." The new voice was familiar but not recognizable. I'd heard it before, long ago. I just didn't know where.

  "Just kill him already. It'll be better for everyone if you do."

  "And just who do you propose do that? We pulled the data files from both power gauges and ran the numbers. He has a composite score of eighty-nine. As you recall yours were only three points higher, and that was over ten years ago."

  A grunt. At least that hadn't changed. "I'm sure I've slipped slightly since then, but I'm still man enough to take this worthless fuck out." He spit on the floor. "And you ain't."

  "Don't sell him short. We've run a few simulations and the computer has it split down the middle, though any models we have for your are out of date. Have you ever met Magda Chatterton? I didn't think so. She's a gadgeteer we hired after she left her last job. Cited personality conflicts with her previous employer. Well, she walked in for her interview and scored a composite of thirty-four. She's a norm. She had enough tools, toys, armor, weapons, and just plain weird tech hidden on her person to set a score that high. Think about that for a m
inute. Anyway, we put her in charge of the entire tech section and she's met our expectations with a wide margin of pleasant surprise. She personally recalibrated the power gauges last week and she swears they were fully functional. In fact, she thought they may have been set a little conservative to err on the side of caution."

  "That seems a little too convenient to me. Didn't you say that she used to be this prick's girlfriend?"

  "Yes, I did. But when she said she didn't know he was coming I verified personally that she wasn't lying." He cleared his throat. "If I'm any judge of things, she would have gladly gone the rest of her life without seeing him again."

  Yet another grunt from the great conversationalist. "Well, if you say it I'll believe it." I heard his clothes rustle as he turned to look at me. "But if this jughead is really that strong then God help us all."

  "I'm going to try," his companion replied without a hint of humor in his voice. "But let's go. I think I saw him stir a little."

  "Did I tell you how he reacted when I sent Gabriella in with food for him? He thought we were going to drug him or something."

  "That's not surprising." The voices were fading in tune to their footsteps, but I could just make out his last words. "Antisocial Personality Disorder patients, also known as sociopaths, are often quite paranoid. Why, I read a case study of this one individual..."

  Interesting.

  I dozed lightly, if only in spurts, for the rest of the night so I wasn't exhausted when the lights suddenly flashed to full brightness and some asshole with a death wish marching down the hall started banging on the walls with a tin pot. It was a good thing, too. There's no telling what I would have done if I'd been in a bad mood when the symphony of utter dick-dom began.

  The cacophony would have roused the dead. I think that was the point.

  It stopped only when my squat friend arrived in front of the cell and greeted me with a grunt.

  "You're awake. Good. Breakfast will be here in a few minutes. Eat it, don't eat it, I don't give a shit, but after that you're gonna go for a walk. I'll be comin' along. If'n y'all try to escape or cause any problems whatsoever I have orders to keep you in line. That means I'm gonna shove your head so far up your ass you'll be using your dick to see if the bath water's too hot instead of your finger, boy. Once you've had a nice, healthy stroll you'll be comin' back here. Now, you're gonna be asked a few questions durin' all this. I'd strongly suggest you cooperate."

  There was no mistaking the threat behind his suggestion. I smiled and pulled my legs out from under me as a prelude to standing. My feet made no sound as they hit the floor. The cool concrete against my soles was a welcome sensation after so many hours in the lotus position.

  "You have orders?"

  "I have orders."

  He had orders. He also had such a hard-on for me it couldn't have been more obvious if he'd pulled his shorts down and started to jerk off in front of me.

  We stared at each other and seemed to come to some sort of agreement of mutual loathing, after which he turned and left without another word or, thankfully, another grunt.

  Yes, they were definitely playing by a different set of rules than I'd been expecting. On the other hand, I had the feeling I knew who bad cop was.

  My subconscious was still chugging along with all the data I'd been accumulating so far, but something about the way stumpy had sauntered off triggered a memory. I'd seen him before, that's for sure. On TV.

  So that's what The Justice Fiend looked like without his mask and cape. No wonder he used to cover his entire face.

  That meant I was in Rio. The Guild was holding me here, with their ultimate weapon as a personal jailer, to keep me away from all of their members who would seek revenge, Alpha Zulu, Magda, and pretty much everyone else on the planet. I must have scared them badly.

  Or, a little voice inside my head chortled, they were more worried Alpha Zulu would come in and rip shit out of whatever B- and C-listers they had at whatever compound they tried to hide me at. That wouldn't go well for the PR team they still had working overtime trying to justify how expensive the Guild was getting.

  I should probably be flattered at the trouble they'd gone through to neutralize me. I really should be honored that The Justice Fiend himself was tapped to guard me. I didn't feel it, though. Probably hadn't had enough sleep or something.

  My legs felt a little tight so I was looking forward to the walk; it would also give me some insights into my jailer's psyche, not to mention the fact that it always paid to scope the security as soon as possible.

  Breakfast was delivered within a few minutes. A sealed can of a commercial weight-loss shake. The irony was not lost on me.

  If there was a camera outside my cell there was no way for me to do anything about it till I figured out where it was. So it came as no surprise when, a few minutes later, after it had became obvious I wasn't going to drink my breakfast, someone came to collect me. Someone I hadn't met before.

  "Hello," he introduced himself, sticking his hand through the bars and pasting a very professional smile on his face. "My name is Raymond. I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you but I don't think it will be."

  "You're very perceptive," I replied, taking his hand and squeezing it firmly. "You're also very brave. What makes you think you'll get this hand back? Our friend with the orders?"

  His smile changed slightly. So did his hair color. "No, I think you'll give it back because I haven't done anything to you. You don't strike me as a man who harms or kills without reason."

  I inclined my head slightly by way of agreement. His eyes shifted from brown to green in an eye blink and some of the mystery that shrouded his face faded. He looked a lot older. "But maybe I consider my imprisonment to be harmful and I hold you accountable."

  An impish light filled his eyes as they shifted to a sky blue. "If you did I'd have lost the hand as soon as I reached in there."

  I laughed and released him. "You're probably right."

  "I spoke with Magda at length over the past few days. I understand the two of you used to be lovers."

  "That's correct." No used in denying it. If they intended to use her against me they were barking up the wrong tree. I had a scar on my hand where whatever that thing she zapped me with had attached itself. When I looked at it closely I could actually trace the nerves halfway up my forearm. "However, it ended a long, long time ago."

  He nodded and his hair darkened several shades. "I see you refused to eat again."

  I snorted. "I'd hardly call that eating."

  "I would agree with you. Your host has a... unique sense of humor, I'm afraid."

  "Is the walk off, then? I thought I was allowed an hour a day outside my cell for exercise."

  "No, the walk is still on. I felt it would be best if we met before I let you out."

  "Because it would discourage me from jumping you and trying to escape, right?"

  He didn't look even slightly surprised. "Yes."

  I nodded slowly. "We both knew I wasn't going to run. If you didn't know that then you don't know me as well as you think you do. Let's go."

  Our host followed about a dozen paces behind us as we walked around the courtyard. Raymond's voice was the same as the stranger from the night before, though the harmonics had shifted enough I might have missed it if I hadn't been paying attention. By his word and phrase choices he was obviously a trained psychologist or psychiatrist. He was polite, careful, friendly, and tried to make sure his questions seemed unimportant, but the weight they carried was too obvious to hide.

  I gave him as little as possible without lying. It was easier that way. It was also a razor's edge of fast thinking and tedium.

  The tour was informative, at least. Apparently the only real security here was The Justice Fiend himself. A few armed guards patrolled the walls, but never more than four at a time, and their weapon loadout was pretty paltry. Probably just extra sets of eyes for the main reaction force.

  Emphasis on force. Anyone who tried to attack thi
s place while he was in residence was suicidal anyway.

  Escape might prove difficult.

  As soon as I was back in my cell I began meditating again. Once I got myself into the proper frame of mind I began replaying every detail about the walk and talk so I could memorize it more effectively.

  I wanted to be able to recall every aspect of what I'd been allowed to see, as accurately as possible, so I could formulate whatever plan I could make. I also wanted to piece together every detail of Raymond's face he'd allowed me to see --- his control over what I saw wasn't perfect and little pieces of his true appearance had crept through from time to time.

  For starters he was at least sixty. His eyes naturally shifted color, though not as quickly as the other changes he made, though that could be natural. I'd met someone with LCD eyes before; the color changed constantly, just not that fast. He kept himself clean-shaven, and judging from how thick his facial skin looked he shaved daily. His hair had receded slightly and was very white.

  He had no obvious fear of me, though I wasn't sure if that was because of his own innate abilities or because of the killing machine that had been following us around. Probably a combination of the two. His faith in his ability to read me wasn't as strong as he made it out to be, that much I'd picked up on quickly. He was good at faking, though. Definitely something to be aware of and watch.

  Once I had a good composite in my mind's eye I tried rolling the years back by a few and got a pleasant surprise.

  If I was right, I was talking to an older version of the once-great hero Hypnotico. He'd faded from the scene once he hit forty. All the usual rumors had started flying, but I'd had the feeling it was because he just wasn't physically capable of the job anymore, even though he was credited with "saving the world" twice. After all, he'd been little more than a norm with some amazing mental powers --- including the rare ability to hypnotize people against their will.