Killing Capes (Book 2): Leaving New Haven

by Mathy, Scott

  Dwight followed the hall’s carpeting through a swinging panel door to find Lia sitting at the kitchen’s island. Her hand rested against her temple, covering the metallic plate where her limiter had been. The smooth skin of her head gleamed in the light of the overhead fixture hanging from the low ceiling. Her usual patched leather jacket had been replaced with a purple baggy knit sweater. The heavy boots she wore as a demonstration of her ability to readily kick someone’s ass were nowhere to be found. Instead, her bare feet rested on the support bar of her seat. She had already set a second bar stool opposite her at the counter. Behind her, a large pot of stew bubbled over the stove. The thick scent of simmering spices and meat filled the room. Dwight suddenly realized he’d forgotten to eat again.

  “It’s called ‘bredie,’ and no, I’m not going to invite you to stay for some,” Lia said, having already read his desire. Her tone was curt and exact, as if she was already past the point of negotiation.

  Dwight took the thoughtfully placed seat, “If you insist. I can be out of here in just a minute, if you like.” He wondered about her apparent frustration with him. The last time he had dropped by, she was much more welcoming.

  Again, she hadn’t waited to search his thoughts, “The last time you were here, it was as a concerned friend. You want something now and I’m going to have to violate our previously agreed-upon social contract if you’re going to get it.”

  He was afraid she’d take his request this way, even before he formally made it. “Good to see you too, Lia. Glad you’re doing well. Looks like you’re finally all settled.” Before he could go any further, he suddenly found himself unable to form the words.

  Lia got up to stir her dinner, “Cut the pleasantries, Dwight. We both know why you came here. I already said I don’t want anything else to do with your work. I’ll give you one minute to state your case, then I want you out.” She released her hold on his ability to speak.

  Dwight held up his hands in surrender. Lying to Lia was impossible. In a sense, it was liberating, being that honest. Everything he said to her had to be the absolute, unalterable truth. There was no gray area with her. “I know what we agreed to, but I’m asking if there’s a middle ground here. I just want knowledge.”

  “I am not some convenient tool for you and Wulf to take advantage of. If that’s how you see me, you can see yourself out and I’ll delete this place from your mind on your way.” She dropped the spoon into the bubbling pot, “Shit!”

  While she began searching the nearby drawers for something to retrieve the lost utensil, Dwight walked over and inspected the pot. Reaching delicately into the liquid with his prosthetic thumb and index finger, he removed the spoon and held it away to cool. Steam rolled off both metallic surfaces in the warm light of the stove.

  Lia noticed Dwight’s intervention just as she found the tongs she had intended to use for the same job. She threw the tool back in the drawer and slammed it shut. “I know exactly what you want me to do, and it makes my fucking skin crawl. You’re going to kill someone, Dwight. You’re going to keep working for that monster.”

  “The second Wulf isn’t what holds this city together, I’ll kill him myself. Until then, his game is all that keeps us from anarchy.” They’d had this discussion before; it was the final straw that had pushed Lia into her current isolation.

  She shook her head, avoiding his gaze, “Don’t think that makes this right. You can’t keep hiding behind his ideology.”

  Dwight knelt down to catch her eyes, “See for yourself; I’ve got a meeting later this week with someone that might make that possible. Maybe someone more powerful than Wulf.”

  She had somehow missed that bit of information in her rummaging through Dwight’s thoughts. In truth, he had been trying not to hope too strongly that someone may have been able to free them from Wulf’s twisted grasp. He instantly felt her pulling at the memories, his feelings, and the possible outcomes he was preparing for. “You’re not sure.”

  He shook his head, “No, there’s too much at play, and I just met him. I don’t want to replace one Wulf with another. If that had been the goal, I could have just left Bernard in charge. I’m not an anarchist, but something needs to change. Maybe he’s the solution.”

  Lia stood silently, pondering the meaning of this new information. “Okay, Dwight, I’ll do it this once. If it gets us closer to taking back New Haven and being done with Wulf’s game.”

  “I promise,” he placed his artificial hand over his chest, “everything I’m doing is to find a solution to all of this.”

  She reached up with both of her delicate hands and placed them on Dwight’s temples, her fingers pushing lightly through his graying hair. Instantly, new words and meanings flooded through those fingers into his mind. A new language seated itself over his existing memory and took hold. The sensation was like some grand epiphany, only faster. In the blink of an eye, the transfer was done, and he could understand what was completely unknown to him this afternoon.

  Lia pulled her hands away and gently wiped them on the dishtowel hanging from her stove. “You good?” she asked.

  Dwight pulled the phone from his pocket and checked the search results he had found earlier that day. As expected, the Russian text made sense now. The instructions for the safe operation of his new weapon were as intricate as he had initially feared.

  He smiled, looking down at the screen, “Da, ya poluchil yego.” Satisfied with the results, he returned the phone to his pocket. The reading would likely take him most of the night, given the manual’s size.

  He wasn’t sure if Lia’s comprehension of language was a part of her powers or something she had learned the traditional way. The ability to temporarily transfer that knowledge was a definite godsend when dealing with second-hand military hardware.

  Lia went back to her cooking, pulling numerous jars from her spice rack and adding them to her stew. “Khorosho, Comrade Knolls”, she said, taking a large bowl from the cabinet behind her. “You should have the language for about a day or two before it starts to fade. I’d recommend taking notes just in case you need them later.”

  She carefully poured a substantial portion of soup into the container before securing its lid in place, then pushed it into Dwight’s waiting hands. “For you and Ian. See to it that he eats something besides junk food and takeout this month.” Opening the nearby refrigerator door, she produced a plastic-wrapped lamb bone and set it on top of the bowl. “For Molly.”

  The flight home was only made slightly more awkward with the addition of the food. He had learned to control his motions without the use of his arms during the first month of experimenting with the serum. As he drifted down toward the apartment, he couldn’t help looking at StarPoint Tower and the Guild’s Headquarters looming in the distance, holding watch over the city as both guardians and jailers. They all lived under the tyranny and graces of Wulf, even the Capes Dwight despised. The only future for them lay in finding a solution that would let them all live in true peace, without the need for Wulf’s controlled destruction.

  He set out to find the answer about a month after Bernard’s revolt. Looking between both buildings, Dwight spotted the skyscraper belonging to the man that could end the game. Lawrence Adams had been a major player with the Guild before; perhaps his return to the spotlight could be the change New Haven had been waiting for.

  Dwight cut the feed of the serum just as his feet touched the metal flooring of the fire escape. Through the thick glass, he could hear the rumblings of Ian’s game still in progress. The rush of power within him faded as quickly as he could slide the door to the side and step through. As predicted, a new stack of takeout containers sat piled in the middle of the coffee table. Ian and the dog remained exactly where he had left them. Molly raised a single eyebrow at Dwight’s return, but quickly raced over upon seeing the wrapped bone in her human’s hands.

  He started unwrapping the gift as Ian paused his game. Clearly, his roommate had also noticed Lia’s care package. Molly
snapped up the bone before Dwight could finish offering it to her. The tiny ball of fluff ran down the hall to the office with it. Feeling the exhaustion that always accompanied his borrowed powers fading, Dwight tossed the sealed container of soup to his roommate.

  Ian caught it against his chest before clasping the bowl with unsure hands. As predicted, Ian quickly popped the lid and smelled its contents. He set the bowl on the table in front of him and began searching the heap of boxes for a spoon.

  “You don’t want any?” Ian asked, finding a discarded plastic utensil at the bottom of a paper bag.

  Dwight carefully navigated the mess of their living room to reach the hallway before answering. “No, thanks; it’s all yours. I’m going to bed. Can you wake me if our guests arrive before I’m up?”

  “Yeah,” he had already begun digging into the spicy stew, “and what if they’re the scary kind of visitor?”

  Dwight tapped the release of the holdout chamber in his arm. Taking the thin tube from its sheath, he replaced the cover. He held the device in front of his dining roommate for several seconds before Ian realized that he should take it.

  Ian studied the device closely, “You’re giving me a laser pointer?” He turned the item over to look at the lens.

  Immediately, Dwight snatched back the laser and set it on the table. “Whoa, that thing can punch a hole through solid concrete. Do not play around with it. It’s good for one shot; don’t waste it.” He couldn’t help thinking back to the vaporized fissure of Killstreak’s chest blown away by the potent weapon, and the surprised look on the villain’s face as he died.

  Ian, at least aware of the source of the object, let it rest where it was as Dwight left the room.

  Dwight fell into bed and was asleep before he could remove his shoes, the fatigue of the dissipating serum finally overtaking him. That night, he dreamed of desert skies and flowering explosions.

  Two

  The knock on his door came suddenly. Dwight rose with a start, finding that hours had passed in the blink of an exhausted eye. He staggered to the door, painfully aware that he still hadn’t eaten; the combined effects of that and the serum were taking their toll on his body. His stomach let out an angry growl as he cracked the door.

  Ian’s face pushed into the half inch of space between the wood. “They’re here. I asked them to wait in the hall.”

  Dwight was surprised. Normally, Ian would have let any of Wulf’s men force their way into the apartment and come pleading for Dwight to make them go away. “They were fine with that?”

  Ian quickly nodded, “Yeah. These two are different, but they did have a briefcase. I’ve seen the guy before, but I can’t think where.”

  “Tell them I’ll be out in a few minutes. We’ll head to the diner.” He shut the door before Ian could reply.

  It took Dwight only a short amount of time to clean himself, get changed, and find his gear. The last thing he grabbed was the rocket launcher from the office. Molly barely noticed as he patted her on the head with his real hand and dragged the bulky weapon from the room. He silently waved goodbye to Ian, who had begun picking up the mess from last night’s meal.

  As he approached the door leading out into the hallway, Dwight checked the peephole, attempting to get a gauge on what Ian defined as “different.” From his experiences over the past year, he felt prepared for anything. Instead of some eight-limbed monstrosity, he found a small blonde woman dressed in a track suit with a light backpack and an older Chinese man in a trench coat talking quietly. His heart filled with disappointment, but at least it wasn’t more Associates.

  The door opened, and both of his guests ceased their conversation before turning to him. It took Dwight a moment to shuffle out of the apartment with the heavy weapon behind him. The woman was the first to offer aid, but instead of helping with the door, she reached down and scooped up the launcher with little effort. Despite her petite size, she swung it over her shoulder and held it there with one arm.

  She thrust her other hand forward, “Glitch. Friends call me Amy.” She flicked her head back to swing the blonde bangs from her eyes.

  Dwight met the handshake, instantly feeling the strength behind it. His replacement felt fragile against her grip. Inspecting the limb, he regarded his new partner, “Cyborg?”

  She dropped the rocket launcher into both hands before lifting the weapon into a biceps curl, “Full body. Only fleshy bit is my brilliant little brain.”

  Dwight turned to the other man, who had been quietly watching the exchange. His left eye, or at least the place where it would have been, crackled with violet energy. Small tendrils of inky matter stretched themselves out periodically. His thick gray hair and network of scars detailed a lifetime of experience. He did not offer his hand but instead kept both in the pockets of his jacket.

  “Evan Zhu; you can call me Void,” he said.

  “Great, and that is…?” Dwight pointed at his own eye.

  “My business.” He tossed the briefcase to Dwight with little concern for his readiness. “I’ll decide what I do with my powers, not you.”

  It was obvious that, unlike his counterpart, Mr. Zhu wasn’t interested in making friends. “That’s fine. We’ll look over the details at the diner. I need breakfast.”

  Glitch seemed downright giddy at the mention of food; she placed the launcher back over her shoulder. “Great! Where should we put this?”

  Dwight shrugged, “Bring it with; it’s far from the strangest thing that I’ve brought to the Welcome.”

  Zhu raised a skeptical eyebrow, “The Welcome? The health code violation with all the shitty memorabilia?”

  “Sure; they know me there, and it’s pretty much the only place your kind wouldn’t be caught dead in.” He began walking while those words set in with his new partners.

  Just as promised, there wasn’t a single metahuman among the early-morning patrons of the diner. In the months since his alter ego had been revealed to New Haven, the staff of the Heroes’ Welcome began treating Dwight like a celebrity. They even graced him with a free meal as thanks for saving the city. For the most part, it meant that he knew he would be left alone if it looked like he was doing business at the corner table of the restaurant.

  Upon seating themselves, their server took their orders and quickly fled. Dwight recognized the woman; he had rescued her from the attentions of three obnoxious businessmen last year. Both of his new partners looked positively ill surrounded by the tacky décor of the Welcome. Glitch set the rocket launcher in the booth beside Dwight before taking a seat next to Void. All three of them waited silently. Dwight drank in the awkwardness with satisfaction while he sipped his coffee.

  Glitch was the first to speak up, “How the hell can you eat here?” Dwight wasn’t sure if she meant the sheer gaudiness of the walls or the cleanliness of the utensils.

  “It’s not that bad. Besides, the food’s decent and we can talk in peace.” He set the briefcase on the table between them and popped the locks. As always, the folder placed on top of the pile of photos outlined their assignment. It would be a fairly straightforward job. He was pleased that, for the first time in quite a while, he had been given an assignment that at least tickled his interest.

  He looked past the briefcase at the uncomfortable Capes seated across from him. “I’m willing to guess you’re both here on behalf of the Guild, rather than Wulf.”

  Each of them reacted to his boss’s name in their own way. For Void, it drew his attention to Dwight for the first time since they’d left the apartment. Glitch, predictably, shuddered like he had just uttered an ancient curse.

  Zhu answered, “Midas asked us to be here. As a guarantee that you’ll be gentle with them.”

  Dwight knew that the rules of the game would have to change, now that the Guild was involved. Wulf’s response had been more inviting than Dwight initially feared. It seemed the tyrant was entertained by the thought of letting his “rivals” assign his hitman’s targets. Dwight knew his boss was carefully
keeping control of his missions, but was anxious to see who would get through. Midas’s idea of sending handlers was novel, if a bit insulting.

  Dwight took another drink from his mug, “Mr. Zhu, I am perfectly capable of understanding and carrying out my assignments without the need for chaperones. What I asked for is protection – people to keep me safe while I do my job.”

  Glitch finally took the chance to speak her mind, “Then care to explain what happened to Quickkill?”

  That one caught him off guard. He choked slightly on his drink, spitting the hot liquid back into the cup. “Well, accidents do happen.”

  His handlers looked at each other. Zhu took the initiative, “Accidents are unacceptable in your line of work, Knolls.”

  “I don’t need the lecture. That accident is why I’m down an arm. I know perfectly well what a mistake means in this business.” He went quiet after that.

  A few silent minutes later, Dwight’s food arrived. He devoured it in record time while looking over the details from the briefcase. As he finished each document, he passed it to Glitch, who looked them over, then passed them on. Zhu created a neat stack in front of him. When he finished, Dwight slid over to the launcher and began the struggle of removing it from the booth before he could escape. Glitch took the cue, getting up and yanking it out of the way with a single motion before throwing it back over her shoulder.

  Once Dwight dropped the payment for his food on the table, the three left the Welcome and proceeded out to the awakening streets of New Haven. All around them, the morning crowds hurried to their day jobs. Once, with Bernard, Dwight had wished he could be a part of that. The promise of a normal, predictable life had its appeal. However, over the past few months, he had missed the excitement of his unorthodox work. Now, watching the masses going about their lives unaware of how truly little they mattered to the machine of the city, he couldn’t help but feel pity. He wondered how they would react if they knew the truth of Wulf’s designs for them.