Subject 12

by S. W. Douglas

  He took the invitation, his body darting forward faster than a mongoose, his right fist flying for my face in an uppercut that would loosen teeth. I brought my arm up to block the blow only to feel his left glove slam into my gut again in a powerful double-tap jab that sent me reeling backwards again. Damn it!

  I didn't go down so he stepped back this time, the smile on his face taunting me.

  Alright. New tactic.

  I took as deep a breath as I could and let it out. Both of us were breathing hard from the exertion and adrenaline, but I didn't see a drop of sweat on his forehead yet.

  I moved in. I feinted a jab at his face to judge his reaction. He didn't even flinch. He threw another punch at me that I ducked under in the nick of time, realizing it wasn't a feint almost too late to avoid it. My counter-punch landed but lacked enough force to do more than make a sound like a leather sack hitting a brick wall. His stomach was almost as hard as one, too.

  Another quick feint on my part was followed by a one-two right jab/left cross combination thrown at my face. I got out of the way of it but was forced to take two steps back, putting me dangerously close to the ropes. The third punch he threw caught my jaw and snapped my head around. I felt the inside of my cheek tear against the edge of a tooth and I tasted blood.

  My response was crude, ill-aimed, guided by nothing higher than pain and rage, and the worst I could have done with it was make him catch a cold from the draft as it flew by his head. He easily moved aside and flicked a counter-punch at me I had no chances of avoiding. Net result of the exchange? I got a powerful and insanely painful blow to the kidneys for my trouble. I went down on one knee and he backed off again.

  I squeezed my eyes against the pain and clenched my jaw tightly instead of yelling. My breath hissed through gritted teeth and I could feel the blood start drooling from my mouth. The tear felt quite large, not that I could force my jaw to relax long enough to probe it with my tongue to find out.

  Okay. If he was going to play it this way, I was going to return the favor.

  I straightened slowly, with as much dignity as I could muster, spat the blood out of my mouth, licked my lips, and smiled. "I think it's my turn," I said as carefully and cheerfully as I could manage, even as the agonizing fires burned behind my eyes.

  I didn't speed myself up. I didn't have enough presence of mind to do it even if I'd had enough moving things to draw on. Pain and hormones had rattled me enough I didn't even want to try.

  So I slowed him down instead. All I'd need was one good shot to open things up and then it'd be on.

  He was three steps away and I saw his shoulders tense for a solid punch. I let him throw it, caught the inside of his elbow with my left forearm, forced his guard open, and threw a straight jab at his jaw with as much as pepper as I could put on it. It landed with a sickening thump, snapped his head back, and visibly made him stumble. He stepped back and I stepped forward, inside his guard, throwing and landing a heavy punch to his gut with my left that forced him to bend double as he absorbed the impact. I followed up almost instantly with an uppercut that caught the point of his chin and made his teeth clack together. He stumbled again, this time into the ropes.

  I closed one last time, throwing three, four, five powerful blows into his torso. If he hadn't been so damn tough he would have been lucky to get away with just some shattered ribs and serious internal damage. I didn't care. I wasn't holding anything back.

  The sixth punch was a left cross that caught him in the eye so hard it knocked him away from the ropes. He stumbled and fell to one knee, obviously disoriented. I took a step back, like he had, and waited.

  He got up after five seconds, shook his head as if to clear it, and threw himself at me again. His left fist flew for my face but it was so slowed by pain I didn't need to do anything extra to avoid it. My right hand came up, knocked his wrist aside, and I threw a haymaker with my left.

  I caught him on the nose. There was a snap, his head flew back, and he went down.

  He was breathing, his nose had started to swell, and he wasn't getting back up again. Relief flooded through me and I sagged.

  I let the ropes take some of my weight as I tried to get my breath back. The adrenaline had already started to ebb and all the aches and throbs were knocking at the door of my consciousness with the IOUs I had signed so they'd leave me alone.

  Jackhammer groaned.

  Wildcard had waited to check on Jackhammer until it was obvious the fight was over. He was just then stretching himself into the ring, but I beat him to it. I bent over to get a better look at him to make sure everything was okay when a voice I hadn't expected to hear came flying at us.

  "We're back! Vivian is putting the groceries away but when I saw the light on down here I wanted to see what the fuck is going on?!" Her voice became a shrill scream at the end.

  I twisted my head, saw Steamroller's face contort in fear, and the next thing I knew I was flying toward the ceiling as my own personal gravitational field reversed itself. I slammed back-first into the steel I-beam supporting the floor above so hard I left a dent, the back of my scalp splitting open and pain flaring the entire length of my spine from the impact. Gravity instantly reasserted itself and I fell into the concrete floor so hard I think it cracked. I really wasn't in any shape to tell as pain and shock overwhelmed and consciousness left faster than I could even close my eyes.

  I came to a little while later, my side sending urgent messages to my brain sounding a lot like "cracked ribs". Then my head sent one that sounded surprisingly like "I like pie!" before it rearranged itself into "move and die!", adding a stabbing pain in the back of my skull to drive the point home.

  I'd had worse hangovers, but not for quite a few years. I'd learned my lesson in that regard a long time ago. Not only was it cheaper to get buzzed and stay that way --- a lot cheaper --- than it was to drink myself to alcoholic extinction, but it meant a lot less pain the next day, too.

  I tried to sit up but was nailed back down by what felt like a railroad spike being driven through my sinus. Which one? Yes, that one. And the other one. And the other one. And, yes, the other one too. Maybe there was more than one spike, maybe it was just that big. It hurt too much to tell..

  "Don't move," Venom said sternly. "You'll mess up the readings if you do and if you mess up the readings I won't be able to run the test again."

  I grunted assent. Opening my eyes was probably a better first move anyway.

  I was in the medical area again. That didn't surprise me, really.

  "Head hurts," I said quietly.

  "You're damn lucky she didn't break your fool neck," boomed Jackhammer's drawl. "Or mine, for that matter."

  I winced. It was all coming back to me. The pain of the impacts, the feeling of helplessness as gravity reversed itself and increased twenty-fold.

  "Christ! Did I really hit the ceiling and the floor that hard?"

  "Yes, and a lot harder the second and third times, if Vivian here's to be believed. I wasn't in much shape to judge for myself and Wildcard has nothin' to say about it. Corrine was surprised and very disappointed that you didn't die, son." He coughed and I heard just the hint of a moan and a catch in his breath before he continued. "Vivian stopped her from doin' any more than she had, though Wildcard seems to think it took some doin'."

  "I'm not sure why," Venom chimed in, shutting off the machine she'd been monitoring. "You picked a fight with a man twice your age and beat him into unconsciousness."

  "I told you, woman, it was a fair fight and my idea in the first damn place."

  "I don't care. At your age you shouldn't be getting into fights like that and he's smart enough to know better." She turned to face me and glared. "Or at least I'd hope so, though the evidence at the moment says otherwise."

  Jackhammer couldn't leave that one alone and their bickering went on for a minute or so while I took internal stock and tried to sit up again. My ribs felt bruised --- and badly so --- but not broken or cracked. My skull felt li
ke Odysseus's Cyclops had tried to eat me but lost interest at some point after the chewing began, but it seemed quite intact.

  I pulled the IV needle from my arm and swung my feet over the edge of the bed. A mild bout of nausea washed over me but vanished just as fast.

  "It was a fair fight, even though I was the only one fighting fair at first. Right, Jackhammer?"

  Venom bit off whatever invective she was halfway through spewing in his direction and turned around again.

  "And what would you know of it, you goddamn idiot? You were almost killed!"

  I dropped off the bed and straightened. Another wave of nausea washed over me and vanished as quickly as the first. "Almost but not. That fight was coming no matter what. I was too pissed off at the idea of going to that memorial and the resentment at being ordered to go was too much. This way we both got it out of our system and whatever points we had to prove were proven." I worked my jaw and winced at how stiff it felt before smiling as pleasant a smile as I could fake. "I think, though, that Steamroller has it out for me still."

  "I said call me Corrine and I meant it, you moron."

  I stiffened and, instinctively started tapping into all the movement in the room. I could feel the tension building in my muscles.

  "Corrine! That ain't no way to apologize an' you know it." Jackhammer cleared his throat. "Now if you are goin' to say you're sorry like you said you would, do it now or get out of here."

  "Alright. Jesus. Look, I'm sorry. I overreacted. When I got down there and saw..." She went on like that for about a minute. The whole thing had a rehearsed, artificial feel to it that I knew came from a total lack of sincerity. Not only wasn't she used to apologies, she wasn't very good at them, and if I'd listened to what she was actually saying I would hear heard her turn the apology into an explanation as to why it was, in fact, all my fault.

  I realized everyone was looking at me expectantly. I also realized my fingers were curled into fists and that if I didn't either let all of what I'd pulled to me go soon, and preferably fast, I was going to be curled up in a ball and whimpering for the better part of two hours before much longer. The reek of ozone sloughed off me like the proverbial duck's back and water.

  "So, I'm supposed to say all's forgiven for the second unprovoked attack you've made on me, when this one was based on you overreacting to, if I may paraphrase, me beating your husband like a helpless little girl? Other than the insults and outright denial you just threw at me, and the fact that your apology was about as honest as a used car salesman trying to pick someone up in a bar, what good would it do me to accept it?" My voice was pitched low and dangerous. "Would it make me drop my guard for the third attack? Sorry, but this time you crossed the line."

  It was so easy. I could feel the movement in the air, against their skin. Every heartbeat sent vibrations to the surface, but never before had it been so clear, so obvious. All around me was motion and movement, smaller and smaller parts that I could sense and see, that called to me. A flick of my finger and a glass on the other side of the room shattered. The pieces spun in midair and, as I watched the light dancing off their edges, they flew up to the ceiling and buried themselves in the sound-absorbent material.

  I turned around slowly, though that was only my perception. I must have blurred in their vision, but only for the length of an eye-blink. First I was facing one way but then I was facing the other, facing Corrine, and my face a cold mask. I could see the minute muscle twitches of fear as she held herself steady and tried to hide the sudden shock.

  "I could explode your chest with your next breath, or make your carotid artery burst in your neck with your next heartbeat. Before you could even think about trying to crush me I could rip your body apart into a hundred or a thousand pieces." I lifted her up into the air and held her arms at her sides with a thought. I stared into her eyes, saw her recognize that death was floating on sable wings over her head. With that, I sighed and all of what I'd drawn to myself bled away. I felt a slight twinge and another quick wave of nausea flow over me. It passed as well, but not quite as quickly as the first two. She drifted to the floor slowly enough to show I was in control but not threatening her anymore. "But I'm not going to because, unlike some of us, I only react with deadly force when a situation calls for it."

  Everyone in the room let out the breath they'd been holding at this point. I felt the breeze rustle the hair on the back of my head.

  "Are you alright?" I asked. Steamroller looked shocked and scared but she shook her head yes. "Good. I didn't mean to hurt you and I'm glad I didn't."

  And then everything in the room shifted and I stumbled, almost hitting the floor as it lurched beneath me. I recovered quickly, but a look around told me nobody else seemed to have noticed. Another shift took place and this time I fell, landing on the arm the IV had been in. At the impact a searing pain started at the back of my hand, where the needle had been inserted, and raced up my arm like a burning chariot in an oil refinery. All the muscles tightened and I bit off the scream that started before it got out. I started to thrash, agony blotting out my sight except for the memory of a single drop of something translucent and green falling out of the IV site. Finally the scream broke free and every muscle in my body spasmed, my back arching off the floor, the scream strangling off as my throat closed, and then it all went away as suddenly as it had begun. I fell limp, my head lolling to the side, my tongue peeking out of the corner of my mouth. I couldn't close my eyes, I couldn't even blink. My heartbeat was very slow and weak and my breathing was so shallow I could barely tell I was still taking in air, but I didn't lose consciousness. Slowly my eyes started to defocus.

  "Vivian," I heard Jackhammer ask as my ability to perceive the world faded and I was left alone in the dark night of my own thoughts, "jus' what the bleedin' hell did you give him?"

  "Welcome back to the land of the living," Steamroller said cautiously. "You feeling any better?"

  My body must have passed out at some point after my brain retreated from reality because I'd been asleep.

  "Yes," I said after running a quick internal checklist. I smacked my lips together and tried to work a little spit around in my mouth to cut the dryness. "At least the world doesn't seem to be trying to rearrange itself around me and my arm doesn't feel like I was on a habanero pepper IV."

  "Good. Vivian wants to see you but we all agreed that I should be the one who sat with you since I was the one who hurt you. Um..."

  "Did I hurt you?"

  "No." She scratched her chin and looked subtly embarrassed. "As much as I hate to admit it, you haven't done anything to me. Even when you had opportunity and motive. I should have listened to Vivian, but even when I said I would I couldn't. You reminded me too much of myself when I was younger. You still do, and that scares me. Too much power, too much anger, not enough reason to care." Her voice changed, became more gentle. "I was angry with myself and I targeted you for it. When Raymond drugged me and used me like that... I felt so helpless and..." She cleared her throat before she continued. "I haven't felt that weak and powerless in forty years. Forty goddamn years. That's longer than you've been alive. Well, it scared me, then it pissed me off, which made me even angrier at myself, and the angrier I got the more scared I got."

  I sat up in the bed. I was in the same room I'd been in when I'd spent spent my first night there. The sun was well up so the lights were off, but there wasn't much coming in the window. Probably because the blinds were mostly closed. Steamroller looked like she hadn't slept all night and she was still wearing the same clothes she'd been wearing when she'd thrown me around like a rag doll. Not the most pleasant memory I could think of.

  "It's a nasty shock to be reminded how mortal we are when we're used to being gods." I probed my side with my fingers and was rewarded with absolutely no pain. My head didn't hurt and I couldn't find a single muscle that felt weak after that last draw. That was very odd and made me wonder what was in the IV Venom had been giving me. A thought very much like a fart crep
t into my head --- silently, unwanted, and with a lingering foulness that I couldn't quite shake. It set some old fears in motion but I tried to ignore them for the moment. "And sometimes even the gods themselves are bested by greater gods. There's no shame in being reminded."

  "Yeah," she said, barely listening. "When I saw Jack out cold in the ring, I panicked. I shouldn't have reacted how I did, but if I saw the same thing tomorrow I'd react the same way. I love him. I became a better person because of him."

  I nodded even though she wasn't looking at me anymore. "You don't know what you'd do if you lost him."

  "No, I don't. I owe him so much I could never repay it all if we lived to be a thousand years old." She wiped a tear from her eye and looked at me again, a sad smile on her face. "I'm sorry I hurt you. He explained to me just what was going on last night while we were watching over you, and for once in my life I was willing to listen to someone other than myself. I never should have done what I did and I hope you can forgive me."

  I smiled. "That is an apology I can accept. Thank you. I'd like to say we can put all this behind us and forget it ever happened, but I don't think we can or, honestly, should." I put my feet on the floor and regretted it. My feet had been warm under the blanket but the floor was quite cold. "However, we can move on. I think we've seen each other's hidden faces now, don't you?"

  "Now that's an interesting way to put it."

  I smiled and extended my hand to her. "Hello, Corrine."

  "Hello. What should I call you?"

  The Guild was not unlike the French Foreign Legion in that your old name wasn't important unless you wanted it to be, and your past was your past unless it became a problem. What mattered was what you did with yourself, and your name was whatever you wanted it to be, what it had always been, or whatever fit you best.