Floor 21- Dark Angel

by Jason Luthor

  It takes the sound of a door opening to snap me back to reality, and I watch as she disappears into the room. She’s so heavy, the floor underneath me shudders as she steps into the room. It’s a little unnerving, even as strong as I know I am, so I let a few moments pass before I slide around the corner and softly make my way down the hall. Right as I’m coming up on the doorway, my visor lights up as the internal mic picks up on voices that are still far away. It’s only one voice, but I recognize it from the broadcasts out in Zone Delaware.

  “All the plans are in place.” It’s the Tank. “Not that I’m completely confident about it. I wonder if this really is the only way forward.”

  As I get up to the door, I realize that, whatever’s inside, it has to be a big place. The display in my visor is saying the Tank is still pretty far away, so the room must be huge. Or, it’s a series of rooms. So, I push up against the crack of light streaming out of the slightly open entryway. Inside, I can’t spot anyone, so I let myself in and try to stay silent while I’m closing the door behind me. I can tell immediately that I’m way too exposed. The room inside’s just as big as I thought. It’s more like a hall, with a massive table running from one end to the other. It almost looks like a dining hall. There’s even a huge chimney at the far end, not that it’s burning. Instead, the electric candle holders lining the columns in the room are casting a soft glow. Without much cover to stay behind, I just try to make my way across the room as fast, and as quietly, as I can.

  The whole time, the Tank is still talking. “Erin says that when the time’s right, the clans will get behind us on one more push at Central Freedom. We’ll need them all if we want to take it now that Fort Silence is backing them. Ned Lancaster still won’t commit any men to the fight.”

  This time, there’s a quiet voice that answers back. “Yes. We will have to prove to him that we can win before he’s willing to fully support us. That will make this an even harder battle than I’d like, but we knew this was how it would be all along. Ned doesn’t want to betray the Sha’b, but he doesn’t want to betray Central either. I don’t blame him. His father’s legacy is buried at Proprietary Colony, a legacy of blood and steel used in a useless attempt to make peace with the city. We will simply need to fight without him.”

  “That’s tens of thousands of men and women we won’t have to fight for us. Central Freedom and Fort Silence combined have more soldiers to throw at us than we can manage, at least without the full support of all the clan leaders. If we go into this fight for the Panzer without their support, it’s going to take a heavy toll to take the weapon. I don’t like the number of lives we’re going to lose in this one. Then there’s the Jackal. You know better than anyone what he’s like and how good his plans are.”

  “Yes. There is no one else alive who knows him as well as I do.”

  “Is that all you have to say?”

  I reach the end of the table and look to my left. The wall’s lined with stuffed animal heads. Animals I’ve never even seen in my life are staring down on me like some grim guardians, all of their dead eyes glaring at me like they’re accusing me of something. I try to ignore it as I take a step forward, walking past them, but it’s hard to shake the thought of all these creatures just staring at me. It’s still making me uncomfortable by the time I get to the door, listening as the voices grow louder.

  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised when I push into the next room just to find that it’s empty, too. It’s smaller though, about half the size of the room behind me. As I’m walking by a shelf stuffed with books, I recognize the names written on the spines of a few of them. “Shakespeare. Sophocles,” I whisper softly as I move to the small table in the center. Looking down across the room is this portrait of an older man. I don’t recognize him, but . . . something’s off about the picture. His skin’s dark, with a black beard that’s streaked with white. He’s bald, with a sword at his hip, his dark eyes staring into the room. It takes me a long time of just looking at it before I realize what’s bothering me. It’s the uniform. It looks a lot like the formal ones worn at Fort Silence, just . . . slightly different. But, what really makes me stop dead in my tracks are the pictures, glowing in a digital frame, that are framed and seated on a shelf beneath the painting. I recognize the pictures. One’s of the bar, from Fort Silence. Another one’s from the courtyard in front of the fort’s administration building. At least one picture’s full of young women standing in front of the fort, arms wrapped around each other and standing beneath a suit of power armor. It’s the last thing I expect to see, so of course, I’m just stuck wondering how those pictures can be there.

  I’m so caught up in analyzing everything that I almost yelp when the voices start filling my ears again. Seems the Tank can scare me even when she doesn’t realize I’m around. “You always play it so cool. I don’t get you. You were so . . .”

  “So . . . so, what?”

  “It just felt like you had more to say when all this started.”

  “I did. I’m worn down.”

  “Is it your sickness?”

  “There’s little else that would make me feel this way. I’ve wondered if it’s finally starting to consume me.”

  So, the Tank’s sister is sick? I slide past the tables and bookshelves, trying to ignore the long dead general who’s looking down on me. It’s hard to stay positive when the room’s that dark and the shadows around me are practically a dozen feet tall. I push past it all as I get to the next door, again checking to confirm that nobody’s in the next room, before sliding inside.

  “We have an intruder.”

  The second the Tank says those words, I freeze. I’m crouched low to the ground in a long room full of just as long tables. There are chairs down every row and a desk at the center of it all. Flowering chandeliers hang from a ceiling painted with a cloudy sky, but I don’t really have the ability to appreciate it. I’m glued to position as I listen to the Tank’s sister responding.

  “What kind of intruder?”

  “Not sure. Not sure it’s even an intruder, really.” I let myself breathe a little as she keeps talking. “Just picked up some strange signals in the city.”

  “What does ‘strange’ mean?”

  “Energy spikes. Some unusual images on the city sensors. Couldn’t track any of it down or really get a solid idea of where they were coming from.”

  “They couldn’t just be malfunctions?”

  “Could be,” the Tank replies. “I sent out some engineers to do some double checks on the equipment. Until then, I let all the street patrols know to be on a closer look out.”

  “I guess that’s all we can really do for the moment.”

  “Well, the signals were small.”

  “So, what’s really bothering you?”

  She hesitates. I make my way between the rows of tables, passing underneath the pale moonlight cutting through the massive windows on the outer wall. I’m almost across the entire room before the Tank finally replies, “I don’t want to lose you.”

  “You won’t. You’ve seen the Panzer with your own eyes. You know how powerful it is.”

  “Right. I agree. It’s just, the Jackal.”

  “What about him?”

  “He has that flying ship of his.”

  The mention of it makes me pause as I get to the entrance of the next room. They voices are definitely louder at that point. “He does. You’ve inspected the Panzer though. Didn’t you say it had the firepower to destroy anything that it faced?”

  “Right. It does. The back’s still mounted with miniature nuclear launchers. We don’t have the warheads for it, but we could use traditional missiles.”

  Nuclear. I know what that word means, but not in this context. I don’t know what nuclear missiles might refer to. Not really understanding what they’re talking about, I just keep going, pushing into one last room. It’s almost entirely different from everything behind me. Actually, it’s more like a living room, with plush chairs and couches. There’s a few book
shelves, but it looks more like a place where people’d come to relax. My eyes practically spring open when I see the coffee table in the center of a circle of chairs. There, on top of it? A tablet. If it’s the one that the Tank was carrying . . .

  Speaking of the Tank, she keeps talking even as I’m closing in on my target. “Just, knowing the Jackal, I think it’s going to be hell. And, I couldn’t live with myself if you happened to get hurt out there. Die out there.”

  “I told you, I’m—”

  “I know what you said. I know you think everything’s going to be alright, it’s just . . . I can’t take that risk. I don’t even know if I can do my duty if I’m also worrying about you at the same time. I’m just . . .”

  “What . . . what are you saying?”

  Even as I’m wrapping my hand around the tablet, I’m wondering the same thing. What are you saying, Tank? My suit’s interface is quickly transferring all the data to my helmet when the Tank says, “That injection should take care of you.” And I just stand there, hunched over for a second, trying to figure out what sort of injection she’s talking about. Just the mention of it gets me on edge, but it’s what comes next that makes my eyes jump open. It’s muffled, and it’s low, and it’s hard to understand what I’m hearing. It’s like I’m hearing something from underwater, like somebody struggling to breath. Like someone who can’t get air and is fighting to come up from drowning.

  And in that second, I seriously have to wonder if somebody is getting killed in the next room and whether I should do something about it. Do I blow everything I’ve done for somebody who’d probably turn around and kill me if I gave them a chance? Or do I step in and try to save someone who’s choking, most likely because of some drug shooting through their system? My imagination is going crazy wondering what the Tank might be doing to the other person in the room, and I can’t help but rush to the door. For a second, I look back to the exit and realize, if I wanted, I could probably just get out of there without having ever been noticed

  “Dammit, Jackie,” I whisper as I sit there in the low light. I’m just not built to let people die without doing something about it. I put my hand to the door, and I’m completely ready to burst in when I have one last second of common sense. Before I go exploding through, I put my eye to the crack in the doorway. Inside, it’s dark and hard to see, so there’s a second when I can’t figure out what’s going on. There’s not much in the room but a table and a bed, plus a wheelchair. My briefing mentioned that the other girl wasn’t able to walk.

  My eyes adjust to the light before, finally, I see the Tank, her massive frame leaning forward. Every muscle in her back is rippling as her arms extend forward, holding someone by the shoulders. It’s the other girl, and I’m not sure what I was expecting to see . . . but she’s definitely not choking.

  I shake my head as I try to understand what I’m looking at. The two of them, they’re . . . they’re kissing. All that sound was just the two of them . . . It’s hard to even think about. I almost can’t process it at all as I start to pull back from the doorway. It’s like staring at a disaster that you can’t really entirely wrap your head around because, I mean, I thought . . . Weren’t they sisters or something?

  And that’s when the smaller girl opens her eyes. Half her face stares past the Tank for a second, a long smile crossing her face as one of her eyes looks to the doorway. I swear she locks eyes with me through the crack in the door. She definitely looks loopy, like she’s not all there. Maybe it’s her medication. Maybe it’s something else. I don’t know. All I know’s my mouth falls open the second we lock eyes on each other, but it’s like she doesn’t care. A second later, she closes her eyes again, and goes back to focusing on the Tank. Like . . . like it didn’t even matter that I was there. I pretty much go stumbling back, trying to block out the sound of the two of them . . . doing what they’re doing.

  Sisters. Sisters. Unless . . . unless they’re not?

  I’m walking one room after the other, heading back into the hallway as it all cycles through my head. The Tank was a giant of a person with shockingly white hair and pretty fair skin. The other girl was maybe closing in on six inches tall but with really deep brown skin and black hair. She wasn’t as dark a shade of brown as me, but she was close. I’m comparing them against each other as I reach the third-floor window and swing back out, this time clambering up the wall and onto the roof. It shouldn’t be the most shocking thing I’ve ever seen, and it’s not, but I just can’t stop trying to process it while I’m standing on the rooftop.

  “This has to be bad intel, right?” I ask myself. “They can’t be related. They don’t look the same and . . . the kissing. It doesn’t make sense. But if they’re not sisters, then . . . then who is she and why . . .”

  That’s when a signal breaks through over my comms. Tommy. “Jackie. Hey, it’s been a while. Just checking in with you.”

  “Yeah,” I whisper. “I’m heading back. I need to think some things out.”

  Jackie’s Recording 19

  I’m standing in a room with President Branagh, Colonel Martin, Tommy, General Yousef, Representative Dravic, and Doctor Watson. It’s not the first time I’ve seen Yousef and Dravic together in a room, but they look chummy enough while they’re sitting together. I stare at them out of the corner I’m leaning against, my arms crossed in front of me as I’m trying to make sense of everything that’s happened in the last few days, up to and including what I just saw in Zone Delaware. Yousef spots me looking his way even though I’m trying to play it cool, and there’s a second when he looks . . . sad, I guess. Maybe because I’m ignoring him. I don’t know. I put it out of my head and look over to Tommy, who walks up to me and leans in close to whisper, “Hey. Is everything alright? You look distracted.”

  “No . . . Yes. Something’s wrong. It’s . . . it’s off. Something’s off about this whole situation. Yousef. The Tank. Even this whole operation to take down the raiders. I just don’t feel like everything’s lining up, but I can’t really figure out what’s wrong.”

  “We can figure it out later. Right now, though, these are all the big-time players. Some big decisions are about to go down. I know I don’t have to ask, but I’m going to anyway. You are ready for this, right?”

  I look up at him through my helmet and nod. I even give him just the smallest hint of a smile so he believes me. “I’ve faced worse than this. I think.”

  “Judge was definitely the strongest guy we ever faced. What’s going on now . . .” He looks behind his shoulder at the group that’s settling into their chairs. “Politics and war strategizing. That’s not the sort of fight I thought I’d be waging when I climbed down the Tower, but it’s all I’ve been stuck with since President Branagh asked me to assist him.”

  “Life is full of little surprises, most of which are just out to make your life miserable.” I nod past him, to the tablet. “Better grab your seat. I’ll handle my end, don’t worry.”

  “Talk to you afterward.”

  I just nod at him as he steps away. A second after he’s at the table, I push off of the wall and just stand there, legs out and arms still folded. “I’m ready for my debriefing.”

  Branagh flashes that presidential smile of his as he puts his hands on the table. “Fantastic, because we received your transmissions. Already had a chance to go through everything by the time you got back.”

  “All of it? Already?”

  “All of it, including plenty of details about what the Tank is planning.” He looks over at Doctor Watson. “Doctor?”

  Watson seems to startle at hearing his name, like he’s just now realizing where he is. That way he always seems to zone out worries me like nobody’s business. It’s just one more thing I have to put out of my mind as Watson suddenly pushes himself up in his chair and looks my way. “Hm? Oh, yes, of course. The, ah, the project. The Panzer project. Well, of course, it’s much as we suspected. They’re going to be activating it.”

  Branagh looks annoyed. “Well,
we already sort of knew that, didn’t we, doctor? What I’m asking is what new details were we able to pull off of that data we recovered?”

  “The data?” He looks over at the president and seems really confused for a long second before snapping his fingers. “Oh, quite right. Yes. They’ll be launching . . . well, in two days, most likely.”

  Everyone in the room shoots up in their chairs when they hear that. Yousef’s face flushes red as he leans over the table and slams his hand. “What did you just say? Two days?”

  “Well, yes. The information we gathered indicated that in a few hours, by early morning, the Tank and her sister would be arriving at the launch site. There is already a sizable raider force in place there. The Panzer is, after all, operational.”

  “And you didn’t think that was important to tell anyone right from the start?”

  Watson looks irritated at people yelling at him, and he starts yelling back. “Well, you’ve got me working on half a dozen science projects for your damned city, and then you expect me to stay on top of it all without even a competent staff to hand off some of my responsibilities to! What the hell did you think was going to happen?”

  “I would hope you’d feel a sense of urgency about a threat that could potentially wipe out the entire city. Was that too much to ask from you?”

  Branagh cuts them off with a sharp wave of his hand. “Gentlemen!” He looks flustered too, but at least he keeps his head on straight. He looks over at Martin and nods to the door. “All of our troops. All of them. We need everyone ready as soon as possible, and I’m talking about the entire militia.”

  Martin pushes away from the table and looks like he’s on the verge of panicking too. It’s the first time I’ve seen that kind of look on his face. “Err, yes, sir,” he says as he looks from Yousef over to Branagh. “And the troops from Fort Silence . . . ?”