Floor 21- Dark Angel

by Jason Luthor

  It’s impossible not to see everyone passing around small metal chips, which I guess is the money that Yousef talked about. As they’re doing it, I notice Yousef reaching for the edges of his shirt and starting to pull upward. He’s not looking at me, but I get a pretty good view of him up front. The guy’s jacked, like he must spend a few hours in the weight room every day. I’ll admit . . . it’s not a bad look. I also get a good look at his arm, though, attached right below the elbow. It looks like such a weird attachment to have, glistening in gold and looking odd against his tanned body. It’s when he turns around though . . . I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but I catch sight of something implanted between his shoulders and running halfway down his spine. Just like his arm, it glows gold, except it’s actually glowing. That same sort energy bleed you see flowing out of Pocket Space, except it’s like a golden aura coming off of his back.

  Yousef turns around and starts bouncing on his feet, like I’ve seen a lot of boxers do as they’re trying to get limber. He looks my way with his hands raised. “Getting cold feet?”

  “Just waiting to see if you’re going to do anything else except dance like you’re at a party.”

  “Oh, I can do more,” he spits before he throws back his fist in a punch that’s precise, just slow. My head slides out of the way and my fist comes up, smacking him right across the face. I pull my punches for the same reason I pull my punches with all people, since if I don’t, I’ll knock their heads clean off. Except, when I hit Yousef, he eats the punch like it doesn’t hurt. Before I know it, he drops low and brings an uppercut right for my face.

  I dodge that one too, sliding back and out of reach, but then he rotates into a spinning backhand that clocks me right across the jaw. His golden fist hits with as much force as a rocket, and actually feel blood fill my mouth for a second before my body heals it up. I rub at my jaw and smile as I look back at him. “I like boys who surprise me.”

  “And I like girls who are more talk than action, if you get my intention.”

  I laugh as I propel off my feet. At this point, I realize he’s bringing a lot more to the fight than the average person, so I don’t hold back. I’m at him before he can react, my first punch plowing him across the jaw before my second comes up into his stomach. He goes keeling over before I bring my elbow down across the back of his head, sending him to the ground. Yousef hits the floor, his hands sprawling out to keep him from slamming onto the concrete. I smile as he’s struggling to get up. “I’ll be honest, you did better than I thought you would.”

  He smiles as he looks up at me, and for the first time, I notice a golden glow in his eye, like a light circling his pupil. “If you don’t finish me off,” he says as he struggles back onto his feet, “Then you’ll never lay another hand on me again.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve analyzed you,” he says as he starts bouncing on his feet. “If you don’t finish me, quickly, you’ll find it very hard to ever hit me again. It won’t matter how fast you move.”

  I cock my head at him as I’m trying to figure out what he’s saying, but then he’s charging me. He draws his fist back, almost in a wild punch, and I bring my fist up to respond. One second, I’ve clearly got a cross punch aimed for his face, and the next, he’s spinning to his side. His golden hand plants on the pavement and he turns into a spin, his whole body swinging low to the floor and catching me at the knees. Before I know it, I’m rolling along the ground, propelling back onto my legs just in time to see him charging me again. My instincts kick in and I start punching at full speed, just all out throwing a dozen punches a second, but Yousef spots every strike and manages to swing out of the way. He gets beneath my last punch and brings his fist up into my torso, the air knocking out of me as I feel the metal plates in my armor bend up into my diaphragm. It’s enough to send me falling forward, but I manage to return the favor, planting my hands on the ground and spinning my legs upward, my feet clocking him across the face before I spin back into a fighting position.

  Then it’s the two of us, staring each other down for one long second before we launch at each other. He slides away from my punch then turns away from a knee that I aim at his stomach. I rotate into a backhand that he slides under, moving faster than literally anyone I’ve fought since Judge. He slides under my arms and to my back, wrapping his arms around my waist and twisting me toward the ground, our bodies slamming to the floor and my chin bouncing off the pavement. I manage to twist onto my back, but I’m trapped beneath his legs, and he’s got me pinned. When I try and throw a punch at him, his gold hand locks around it before his free hand crosses down to latch around my neck. It’s when his fingers start clamping down on my throat, pressing into the metal of my armor, that I really understand that it’s not just his golden hand that’s robotic. Even his other arm’s been enhanced. I underestimated him, completely.

  My vision’s starting to get a little blurry before I smile at him. “Alright, you win, you win,” I gasp, and as soon as I do, his hands let up. The minute his fingers are off my throat, the self-repairing metal in my suit starts readjusting around my neck, letting me breath again. As soon as it does, I start laughing, even as I’m listening to the crowds around us chanting for their general.

  Yousef, who still hasn’t moved, looks down from on top of me with a smile of his own. “What’s so funny?”

  I’m literally grinning uncontrollably at this point. “I feel alive.”

  “Why?”

  “Nobody’s beaten me in a fair fight like this in a long time. I didn’t take you seriously.”

  “I know. I did warn you though.”

  I’m heaving, taking in a long, deep breath as this weird euphoria washes over me. “That felt so good. Like I wasn’t the only freakshow in town.”

  “Come on,” he says as he rolls off and gets back to his feet. His hand reaches down toward me, and I grab it. I’m back on my feet in a second, and he’s already gesturing back to the bar. “Let’s take a break.”

  We push through the crowd and back to our seats. My armor fades out of existence before I swing onto my bar stool, my chest still rising and falling as I grab for the glass that’s already waiting for me. “How did you do that?”

  “A series of interconnected enhancements powered by the Advanced Reaction Core system,” he says as he slides his shirt back on. “The device you saw on my back.”

  “Yeah, what’s up with that?”

  “I have an ocular implant that reads the speed and movements of my opponents. In my brain, I have an implant that relays that data to the device in my back. The engine itself. The engine is powered by a Pocket Space generator, and my neural network is enhanced with a series of nanite connections that allow my robotic limbs to move at speeds much faster than a normal human.”

  “But how did you take my punches? I can normally decapitate a person when I’m not holding back.”

  “Your suit deflects a certain amount of kinetic energy away into Pocket Space. That’s why it’s so resistant to damage. The ARC system does the same thing for me, turning your normally lethal punches into merely powerful ones that, I’ll admit, hurt like hell. I may be fast and strong, but I don’t have your ability to miraculously recover. I’ll be feeling the effects of this fight for a long time.”

  “Toward the end there, it didn’t feel like I could hit you at all.”

  “That’s exactly what the ARC system is supposed to accomplish. I can’t take hits like you, so I need to avoid them.”

  I smile as I finish off my drink. “That felt really good. I haven’t gotten that excited for a fight in forever.”

  He smiles back. “I feel the same way, if that’s any help.”

  “Yeah, it’s nice to feel like someone else understands where you’re coming from,” I tell him as I wipe at my forehead. “Wow. Fighting might not get me that tired, but I still sweat up a storm.”

  “I saw that. Why don’t you come back to my quarters? You can shower and I can have some fresh clothes brough
t up while we have that bodysuit of yours cleaned.”

  It’s a weird question to ask, and I know that. I’m not stupid . . . but I’m also having fun. So, I look back at him and just shrug. “Sure. Lead the way.”

  Jackie’s Recording 04

  At the time, I’m thinking . . . maybe it’s not something I should care about. Maybe it is. I don’t know, what’s the protocol on bathing in some guy’s shower when you barely know him and he might have a vicious warlord side he’s hiding?

  I’m not stupid, but sometimes you just want something. Maybe I just want to be Jackie and not the Dark Angel for a second. I don’t know. It gets hard to tell where one ends and the other starts sometimes.

  He said he wanted dinner. So, when I get out of the shower, I find two things. The first is a military jumpsuit pretty much like what everyone wears when they’re out of uniform. The second . . . Well, the second thing makes me laugh. It’s a dress hung up in the bathroom. It’s a pretty bold gamble from the guy, but at least he gave me a choice so I could pick whatever I felt most comfortable in. And the jumpsuit’s something I’ve worn before. I’ve never worn a dress in my life . . but I put it on. It’s this form fitting piece but nothing too tight, all black with heels. Heels. At least the color contrasts suits my skin pretty well, and when I look in the mirror . . . I don’t know. If nothing else, I can say it feels nice.

  Maybe I even think I look nice, for once.

  The shower’s not built into his bedroom so at least I know he’s not trying to be that sneaky. After I finish up, I head down the hall that connects all the rooms in his quarters before finally reaching his private dining room. When I do, he’s already got all the food laid out. I mean, there’s food I couldn’t have dreamed off when I was a kid. Corn, mashed potatoes, green beans . . . Real vegetables, not the disgusting ones I grew up on. Then there’s the chicken, glazed with butter and simmering in its own juices.

  My mouth practically drops when I see it. “That . . . looks fantastic.”

  “So do you,” he says as he turns around. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but you look lovely.”

  “Thanks, I . . .” I shake my head. “I’ve never actually worn a dress before, so this is kind of uncharted territory for me.”

  “Were there no dresses where you came from?”

  “Not . . . not nice ones. Definitely nothing like this. The ones we did have, I was never really interested in wearing. I was a lot more of a tomboy growing up.”

  “You didn’t have to put on the dress if you didn’t want to.”

  “Oh, I know. I saw the jumpsuit. I wanted to.”

  “Would you tell me why?”

  “Because . . .” I shake my head, and I can’t help but look away when I feel my cheeks heating up. “A lot of it’s because I get tired of being the Dark Angel all the time, but also . . . because I shouldn’t have to make excuses for doing something that make me happy once in a while.”

  “I agree.”

  “I once . . . One time I found this diary, when I was out scavenging for supplies. It was this stupid diary by this stupid girl who died hundreds of years ago. But, that girl . . . She had a normal life, you know?”

  “Your life hasn’t been normal.”

  “Not even close. If this world is what normal is . . . There has to be better.”

  “You think like I do. And that diary you found?”

  “It was just this girl who didn’t know anything better about the world except going to dances and wearing fancy dresses. The worst thing she had to worry about was how good she’d look on a date. By her same age, I was actively trying to figure out ways to cure the Creep and save my family from a life trapped away in a Tower.”

  He just nods. “So, do you want to be that girl?”

  “What? No. Actually, hell no. Not that there’s anything wrong with liking pretty dresses and dances. That’s not really my style. But, I just . . .” I can feel myself getting flustered as I try to explain myself. “Shouldn’t everyone be able to breathe sometimes without having to worry about whether they’re in a life or death situation? Am I really supposed to be this brave hero girl for everyone all the time? I never even wanted to be a fighter growing up. It just turns out I was the queen of giving out ass kickings. But, I don’t want to just be a soldier, waking up every day and thinking about nothing else but how am I going to save lives before night comes. I mean, shouldn’t everyone have the chance to just dress up and be frivolous or carefree once in a while?”

  “Yes, they should.”

  “Does it make me a bad person? Am I a hypocrite for wanting to dress up at least just once in my life?”

  “No. Obviously not. Just like you said, we should all have a chance to be carefree. At least, sometimes. We do it many different ways, obviously. Here, in the fort, we have the bars where people can go drink and fight if they want to. As you’ve no doubt noticed, I am a fan of having fancy dinners and wine. As the playwright once wrote, ‘I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety.’ It’s fine to want to have a drink peace of mind. Not every decision you make should revolve around the Creep and whether you or someone you care about will make it out alive.”

  “And ever since I got to Central Freedom . . . It feels like that’s all I’ve been doing. Just . . . fighting, and fighting. Finding ways to protect them. Which is fine. I’d do anything for my friends, it’s just . . .”

  “It’s just that you, like everyone else alive, want a chance to let the weight off your shoulders. At least, once in a while.”

  I suck in a deep breath and look at him. “Yeah.”

  “Please. Let’s have dinner.”

  “And wine?”

  He chuckles as he reaches behind his back and pulls out a bottle. “If there’s one thing we’re not in short supply of here at the fort, it’s good drink.”

  His table’s a small one compared to the long one in the main dining hall. It’s a lot more intimate and makes it easier to have a conversation. Which, at first, doesn’t happen. I probably spend the first few minutes carving into the food with a look on my face like I’ve never been happier. It takes a second before I look up and see him smiling at me, and I can feel my face burning as I look away. “What?”

  “You look like a woman who has never had a bite of food in her life,” he says as he’s laughing. “Were you that hungry?”

  “No. I don’t need to eat anymore.”

  “Really?”

  “My body pulls energy from the same place as the Creep, wherever that is.”

  “But you look as if you’ve been needing to eat for weeks.”

  “Just because I don’t need to eat doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate good food. I mean, let’s remember that I didn’t grow up in a place with a garden like Central Freedom. We scavenged whatever we could find, and the food we did grow wasn’t . . .” I shake my head at the memory of those dingy black vegetables. “Well, let’s just end it by saying the vegetables were terrible.”

  “So, now when you have the opportunity . . .”

  “I pretty much eat like a starving girl.”

  He chuckles from behind his hands. “Well, I have to admit, the food we make here is quite good.”

  “And the wine you scavenge isn’t too shabby,” I say as I’m pouring him and me a drink. “Cheers?”

  “Cheers,” he says as he raises his glass. “To you, and hopefully an alliance between Central Freedom and Fort Silence.”

  “Yeah, about that,” I respond as I take my first drink. “Is that why you have me out here? Why you wanted to have dinner? Are you secretly trying to hustle me into talking to President Branagh for you?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Then what’s the deal? The real deal, Yousef. Don’t lie.”

  He shakes his head and stays quiet for a second while he’s drinking from his glass. “The first time I saw you fight, the first time I had a conversation with you . . . Both those moments, you reminded me so much of my sister, Ishara. It’s imposs
ible to completely describe, but she had that same fire. I suppose I missed sitting in its warmth. Basking in its glow.”

  I can feel my cheeks burning as I hide my face behind my napkin, trying to hide my cheeks while pretending to wipe my mouth for a second. “Most people think I come across kind of cold. They think I don’t care.”

  “Maybe you just conduct yourself in a way that they’re not used to. Your friends must know that’s not true.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. They’ve known me long enough by this point. Mike’s dating this girl now, Cynthia, but back when we were younger, I guess we both had some kind of thing for each other. That didn’t really go anywhere, but he knows me well enough that he can just tell things about me. He knows I can be too sarcastic sometimes or that I get frustrated when things aren’t getting done, but I’m always going to go all out to protect him or anyone else I care about.”

  “Mike didn’t come with your group.”

  “No, they kept him home. Tommy’s got higher rank and hangs with the president a lot. I think he’s actually working directly for Branagh now. Tommy never struck me as a politician growing up but it’s not like we had lots of those where I come from.”

  “And how long have you known him?”

  “A lot less time than Mike, but he was . . . he was my rock coming out of the Tower. Mike wasn’t in a good place, mentally, and I was the one leading the team. I mean, it was just four of us, and that final stretch of the Tower was . . . bad.”

  “Bad? Is it something you want to talk about?”

  “I can talk about that easy, because it ended up fine,” I say as I take a deep drink from my glass. “I got separated from Tommy, Mike and Dodger, then ended up spending days by myself being chased by this creature. Judge.”