They arrived just in time to see Totem as they ran from the building. Moments before Hunter and his team had arrived, the four Freelancers landed with enough force to crack the earth as Base, their largest member, carried the other three of them on his body and jumped from the roof of the building they had burgled. Hunter’s pages were so full of exposition that I had only just gotten to the point in the current narrative that the previous version had started at, almost 20 pages of text in. The story began to feel familiar again, though there were still things that were in this version which had been removed from the other.
Totem’s members hadn’t been described so clearly in the other version. The other copy mentioned that the battle began when Chop leaned out of the passenger window to shoot a wooden stake he had formed from two marbles in his pouch. The new version I was reading made mention of the fact that Chop missed his mark, and hit the case the stolen merchandise was in instead. Hunter blamed it on the weaving that Chip had done. The more detailed version of the report painted a truly impressive scene, as Hunter somehow had managed to keep track of his own fight against Base and one of the other members of Totem, as well as the battles that Chip and Chop were engaged in. Hunter’s skill and adeptness in combat was easy to see as he described the blows he traded with the two men and the commands he called out to his teammates. At one point, Hunter ducked under a punch from Base that would have been strong enough to total a monster truck, and then he swept the legs out from under the Strongman, calling out to Chip that the Elementalist needed to block as he was mid-spin. Hunter came up from the move to land a solid hit with one of his batons on the side of his other opponent’s head.
Well, not his head. Hunter had hit the man in his mask. That was another new detail. Not only had the previous version left out who Hunter and his team had gone after that night, but there was nothing about their opponents wearing masks, either. Hunter had written that his baton smashed into the side of the man’s mask with enough force to crack the side and level the man completely. He said that some of the red paint was stuck to his baton as he continued to pivot with the blow to take a swing at Base after hitting the Strongman’s partner, but the big man stepped back to avoid the hit. It wouldn’t have been a huge deal that the masks were omitted from the previous version. At least not to anyone who wasn’t me.
Totem wore masks with animal designs.
Base was a bear, and the man Hunter had cracked in the head wore a mask which Hunter described as a rattlesnake.
I wondered then, for the first time in the forty minutes or so I had been reading, where the updated report had come from. Everything was hitting me all at once. So many of the thoughts and questions I had decided to put to bed early for the night slammed themselves against the side of my brain like a pack of lemmings to the slaughter. A stream of questions came bubbling to the surface, though.
Did Hunter know that I’d had my own run-in with Totem as a little girl? Was this what he wouldn’t talk to me about before? But if that were true, why did he suddenly change his mind and drop the report off in my room… or even bother hinting at there being details missing before? Did Hunter know who killed my daddy?
But one question rose above all the others.
Does he know where my brother is?
I woke up early, realizing as I brushed my teeth that I hadn’t done as good of a job at cleaning my shower as I had thought, since the smell there all over again. The odor seemed to mix with the bit of cleaning product still lingering to create something that every part of my body found repulsive. I showered anyway, upset when I realized that my towel, too, smelled awful. Thankfully, the smell didn’t seem to cling to my skin after I dried off. Breakfast was quick and light, a few pieces of toast and some fruit so that I wouldn’t feel bogged down or too heavy to spar. I bobbed my head to dodge a mosquito after putting clothes on. The door to my room locked itself as I walked out.
We had one morning speech scheduled, and I finished eating while we reviewed some of the policies we’d be tested on, including the Eight Hundred codes. Fibre took the forms and used them to write a song—that part of the review was fun. He got everyone’s attention when three copies of himself walked out to turn the whole thing into an acapella performance. One copy, a female version of Fibre, held a high note in the middle of the second chorus that really brought the whole thing together—it was great. The song was catchy, too, so I felt confident that it would stay stuck in my head until long after the exam had come and gone. My favorite part was probably somewhere at the beginning, when the harmony first broke in at Eight Hundred Fourteen, Grand Larceny via use of Powers.
We were dismissed when the song ended, and as I walked out of the room, I realized Tristan had been sitting nearby without me noticing. I caught up to him before he got too far ahead of me.
“Hey! Looks like you’re feeling better,” I said to him.
“Yup, fit as a fiddle, no headache or anything. I was able to get started on the machine I was telling you about.”
“Oh? So, what’s the deal with that? You building some kind of, I don’t know, tracking device or something?”
“Ha, hardly.” Tristan laughed. “It’s a headset. I built one for my mom a few years ago so she could talk to our cat. It translated the mixture of body language and, for lack of a better term, ‘meows’ from the cat into words that she could understand. I’m thinking with a few modifications, I can go the other way with it, and make something that will identify whatever language you’re speaking when you’re doing your Communicator thing.”
“You… you can do that?”
Tristan laughed again. “I think so, yea.”
“Are you going to go and work on it now?” I asked him.
“Not right this second, no. We’re really supposed to be sparring, so I’m going to do that. But I had a bunch of ideas while we were reviewing the codes. I’m going to book it to my room tonight and see what I can do. I’d like to have the machine done by the end of the week. Fibre said it’s part of the process for Tinkerers to present something they’ve invented during their final evaluation. The headset sounds perfect.”
“Really? Why not the suit you were wearing the other day?”
“I guess I don’t really know. Whoever does the evaluation has probably seen a ton of stuff like the things I’m good at building. Everybody can do suits and exoskeletons just like everybody else can do guns, you know? I guess… I’d like to be a little different, if I can.”
“You think they’ll want me to be part of the presentation?”
“Oh. Uh… Maybe? I hadn’t really thought about that. Would that be alright with you?”
“Sure,” I said. “Doesn’t sound like I’d have any real performing to do anyway. When the time comes, I guess just let me know.”
I walked with Tristan to one of the gymnasiums, where wrestling mats lined the entire floor. There was about ten feet of clearance from the door and walls, but the entire room was littered with circles to wrestle in, about three feet of space from one to the next. Tristan and I set our stuff down as we walked in and grabbed a free circle at the far end of the gymnasium so we could grapple for a bit.
While most Tinkerers aren’t known for their hand-to-hand abilities, Tristan’s focus being powered suits led to him being a skilled fighter. I had seen him box plenty of times over the last couple of weeks, but didn’t realize until wrestling with him myself how skilled he was on the ground as well. Grappling was my favorite part of our exercise time growing up as a ward of the World Government. Rolling around on the ground has always come naturally to me, I guess you could say.
Tristan was giving me quite the run for my money that morning, forcing me to be creative more than once. At one point, during our third match. I was catching my breath, maneuvering myself so that I disabled either one of his arms with my full weight bearing down onto his wrist as I laid perpendicular on top of him, and Tristan went to swing a leg up to catch my head with it. He missed the first time, then swung again,
and I kicked my legs out to the side, dropping my elbow onto his stomach so I could face his feet to push them down. I came down a little harder than I had meant to, and would have likely knocked the wind out of him if he hadn’t been using his stomach to bring his leg up. I spun immediately, continuing to hold his wrist throughout the exchange, and swung my legs back around, which brought his arm between them. Sitting then with my butt to the mat, I scooted forward, letting go of his wrist to wrap my arm around his elbow while getting ready to pull his forearm back and straighten his arm–I had my left leg curled over his face and my right leg over his midsection. Against a lot of other people, the bout would have been over, and I could have gone for the finish. A quick thrust of my hip into his elbow would bring enough pressure to force him to give up or risk the joint breaking. Tristan had managed to grab onto his sweatshirt, though, and had slipped his free arm underneath the one I had, grabbing his shirt again. His elbows came down and locked in place, preventing me from finishing him at all. I brought my right leg up just a bit, trying to pry his arm free so I could maybe just swing it back and push up with my hips as the finisher, but Tristan was able to easily scoot to the side, which prevented me from pulling his arm away.
My muscles started to ache. He and I already a few minutes into the constant pushing and pulling of the grappling match, so I needed to think quickly. Tristan smiled up at me, obviously aware that his defense was working against the arm bar. I shifted my weight just a little, and realized after a moment that his face had started to turn red. I stopped pulling the way that I was, and clinched with my legs, forcing Tristan to choke himself out. It was less than a minute before he fell asleep. I let go immediately, then stood to wipe the sweat from my forehead, and called out to him.
“Tristan? Tristan!”
Tristan’s eyes snapped open. “Ah!” He went to sit up but grew lightheaded and laid back down, laughing lightly. “Man, I don’t know why I thought that was a good idea.”
I walked over and knelt down next to him, offering him his water bottle. “It was a good defense against the arm bar. Just a bad one overall.” I took a swig of my own water. “Better to learn not to do it here than in the field, right?”
“Ha, yea. Give me a few minutes and we can get back to it. It turns out you’re particularly skilled at giving me a killer headache.” Tristan started rubbing his temples, taking deep breaths.
“Lucky for you, I brought just the thing.” I walked over to my bag against the wall and grabbed the small bottle of aspirin I kept in there before taking two out for Tristan. When I walked back, Hilly had joined us. She and Tristan were talking about what had just happened, with Tristan showing her how he had crossed his arms over himself, and how easy it had been for me to choke him out.
“Here you go, Tristan,” I said, handing him the aspirin. “Hey, Hilly.”
“Looks like you need someone new to grapple with.” Hilly said.
“Sure,” I replied. Tristan got up and out of the circle, going to sit against the wall.
I had finished catching my breath and wiped the last bit of sweat from my forehead as I stepped back into the circle. I plopped down onto my knees, but Hilly shook her head, preferring that we start standing up. I obliged, spinning around so I got back up to my feet, and Hilly came at me immediately, her arms shooting forward to grab at my sweater. I reached my arms up to break the hold and grabbed the meat of her hand, then I pulled on her opposite bicep hard in an attempt to spin her around. Hilly rolled her shoulder back and pulled my bicep the same way I pulled hers, causing me to trip forward a bit. She wasted no time in stepping in, putting both hands around the back of my neck as she snapped me down, trying to bend me over at the waist. My body bent just enough that she managed to get her right forearm across the back of my skull and her left forearm across my forehead, which locked my head in place, her forearms like the straightened jaw of a giant snake around my head. Hilly shuffled back twice, pulling me off balance the second time as she dropped herself onto the floor with a sprawling motion. My arms came down to prevent my head from slamming into the mat, and Hilly was behind me in a flash, her arms wrapping themselves around my head. I barely managed to tuck my chin to prevent the choke, Hilly nearly getting her arm around my neck as she twisted her body to bring me fully onto my back. I kicked my legs up, my hips flying up into the air. I kept my chin tucked, my fingers trying to find a place under her arm to create more space. I couldn’t wiggle them in, but I was able to raise my shoulders a little higher, bringing them as close to my ears as possible, which created just enough space to keep Hilly from locking her arm around my neck. I knew from experience that it wasn’t the best defense, but it would buy me time so I could fight the hand she wasn’t trying to choke me with. That was the one that really mattered.
Hilly gained some leverage and sat us both up, her legs coming around my sides to dig her knees into my ribs. Hilly’s legs hurt a lot more than if someone else had done the same move, the legs of a Fast One making it seem more like I was wrapped by an anaconda than a girl who looked to be the same size as me. I knew I wouldn’t have long before she squeezed me hard enough to end the match, so I acted as quickly as I could and brought my right hand up to grab the wrist that was behind my head. With my left hand, I reached around to grab Hilly’s fingers on that same hand, and was able pull hard enough to bring her arm over my head and lock it under my right armpit. The pressure from Hilly’s legs was getting intense as she squeezed harder in frustration, and I went to grab her free hand, my intention being to bring it over to the other side of me so that I could work the rest of the escape.
Hilly squeezed even tighter then, and my vision went blurry.
You are going to get hurt, Little One.
I’m fine. I’ve almost got her.
You need our help.
No!
Hilly’s legs squeezed tighter one final time, and I felt a pop underneath my sweater. “Ah!” I yelled. “Stop, stop!” I banged my hand on Hilly’s leg. She released her grip and my hands instinctually went to my side, where I had felt the pop emanate from.
We told you, Little One. She cracked your rib.
I am aware, thank you.
I tried to stand, but made myself dizzy, and decided that simply sitting up was good enough. Tristan came over and grabbed me under my arms, propping me to my feet. “You probably should have just tapped.”
I breathed in to give my reply, but was met with a sharp pain as I drew air. Fresh tears began to well in my eyes and I tried again. “Yeah. It’s only cracked though, not broken.”
Tristan helped me start walking, but we didn’t take more than a few steps before I turned to see Hilly, standing next to me, a burst of air flying into my face as she ran back into the room at amazing speed. I hadn’t even realized she’d taken off. “Fibre is coming,” she said.
“Oh, good,” Tristan said. It was only a few moments before six copies of Fibre came into the gymnasium, two of them wheeling a stretcher. Tristan and one of the Fibre copies helped me onto the wheeled platform while the real Fibre told me to just sit back. Before we were off, Hilly came over and put her hand on my shoulder.
“Ivy, I didn’t mean to,” Hilly said, the closest she dared come to an actual apology. And then it was my turn to be treated by the nurse.
They even put me in the same room my friends had been in.
CHAPTER 5—LOCHLAN’S DISCOVERY
Lochlan’s mood module was running hot, the skin around the tiny device so high in temperature that his sweat was starting to sizzle. The huge printer in the middle of the room hadn’t just been turning scrap metal into humanoid machines–it had turned scrap metal into humanoid machines that could put themselves back together.
While The Control made sure Agents were strong enough to easily crush their assailants, and that they had the endurance of many men, it simply wasn’t enough to just break the robots or rip them apart. Every time Lochlan pulled a limb free of a torso, the limb began to slowly reach and pull its
way back until it could maneuver itself to line its end back into the joint, where it reconnected instantly. The Agents had been busy trying to find a way out through the door they had entered, after the metal had dropped down from the top of the door frame, and in that time dozens of the broken robots had already put themselves back together. A roaming arm had grabbed Lochlan’s ankle as the start of the battle, and when his attention had been drawn to his feet, two other robots with no arms slammed themselves hard into the younger Agent, the three forms crashing against the wall. Lochlan hit his head against the dense metal of the warehouse, his vision blurring as his eyes shifted slightly in his head. He tore the heads of the two robots clean off as he stood up, but was immediately met with another three attempting the same maneuver. Lochlan’s enhanced legs carried him high over the three rushing robots with a quick jump, the Agent landing feet first to crush another two heads.
This pattern continued for some time before Lochlan and Khard eventually realized that it was going to take more than crushing the robots to keep them down. It was Khard who began to use his modifications first, an action Lochlan heard more than he saw due to the dense crowd of robots around them. Lochlan picked up the body of a robot by its ankle and swung it around him in a circle to clear some room, needing a moment of preparation to activate the modification he thought might work best. As he cleared an area for himself, Lochlan bent down to touch two points behind each ankle, and then one more point in the middle of his chest as he stood back up, wondering not for the first time why he’d never bothered to design his modifications so he could activate them on a whim without having to touch various parts of himself.
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