“I’m fine.” Mat forced a smile. “I’ve been poked, prodded and decontaminated six ways from Sunday. I was miles from the blast, far enough to have avoided any but the most minor effects. I’m not saying that I won’t end up with cancer years from now, but I’m absolutely fine for today.”
Agent Sala grunted. “So what are we doing here? Some sort of honor guard for this guy?”
Mat scowled. “We’re here to make sure he knows we’re keeping an eye on him. I don’t like this guy, I don’t trust him, and I don’t like that absolutely everybody else seems to think that he is, at worst, a necessary evil. If you have a rat problem, you don’t bring a viper into your house.”
“That bad, huh?” asked Sala.
“Worse. He’s—you’ll see. Or actually, probably you won’t, which is my whole complaint. He’s a manipulator from start to finish. This is going to make things worse.”
“You think he’s just going to tick off the Emissary more?”
Mat sighed. “No. He’s an Aug-5 who can pick and choose the future he wants. If there’s a path to success, he’ll take it. I just think that his idea of success is going to make things worse for everyone else.”
“Seed’s an Aug-5, too,” Garcia reminded him. “Maybe it won’t go his way.”
Mat looked back over his shoulder, as if he could see the ruins of Miami from where he stood on the tarmac at Fort Lauderdale. “Also not acceptable. Seed’s leveled a death threat against the entire planet, and there’s every reason to believe that he means it.”
Privately, though, Mat wondered if that might not actually be better. At least Seed, the Emissary and the Nevermen were enemies they could see and fight. They might be dramatically outmatched, but at least they would be able to take a stand. Mat had only met Retroactivity a handful of times, all at official events, but each time he came away feeling like he had been trying to grasp an optical illusion. The man pulled strings and manipulated events. Everyone else might consider him a necessary evil, but Mat was only certain that he agreed with the second part.
The plane taxied toward them, and Mat adjusted his tie and settled his face into its professionally neutral mode. “Please follow my lead, agents. Several members of his team are...challenging. Do nothing to provoke them.”
“We read the briefing,” grumbled Sala.
The plane door opened, and the three agents straightened their postures and readied themselves. The first to emerge through the door was Molt, or more properly, Molt’s right arm. This was followed by her left, each arm by itself the size of a person. Her two arms hooked upward and grasped the top of the doorframe, and her head came into view as she squeezed herself through the door like a child crawling through a playground tube.
“Jes—Geez,” said Sala. “It’s like watching a mountain being born.”
“Which is precisely the sort of comment he just said not to make, Sal,” Garcia reminded him.
“She can’t hear me,” muttered Sala, but he made no further comments.
The plane rocked as Molt stepped out onto the stairs, which were comically small compared to her bulk. She eyeballed them for a second, clearly gauging whether she would even fit down them, then put one hand on the railing and hopped over the side. She landed on the tarmac with surprising grace, rolling once in a controlled move and coming up on her feet.
Replix exited next, his tight shirt and board shorts making him look more like he’d come to spend the day at the beach than to fight a deadly threat. Next was Halflife, looking equally underprepared in a sleeveless dress. They were followed by Lacuna, dressed in black tactical gear and carrying a large duffel bag. Judging by appearances, she was the first of them who knew what they had been called there for. Taunt scuttled out after her, sharp eyes assessing the situation from the higher vantage point before she descended the stairs to join the others.
And after just enough of a pause to make sure all eyes would be on him when he emerged, Retroactivity strolled out of the plane. His tailored white suit practically glowed in the Florida sun, and his air of casual command was evident even from a distance. He descended the stairs easily and turned to say something to his team, allowing the gold eye on the back of his jacket to stare down the agents for a moment before turning back and walking toward them. His team followed, and Mat stepped forward to meet them, hand extended.
“Retroactivity. Thank you for coming.”
“Director Roche.” They shook hands. “Of course. Anything I can do to help my country.”
Something about the way he said ‘my country’ rankled Mat. What’s worse, the subtle smile on Retroactivity’s lips said that he knew that it rankled, and he’d done it intentionally. And further, that he knew that any attempt on Mat’s part to explain this would sound ridiculous. It was a lot for a smile to say, but Mat had no doubt that it was carefully crafted.
Instead of responding, Mat said, “These are two of our local agents, Garcia and Sala. We’ve brought three cars for your team. If you’ll please climb in, we can take you to get you all settled, briefed and set up with whatever resources you need.”
Retroactivity smiled. “If you don’t mind, actually, we’d like to get right to it. Word is that the Emissary has been expanding her territory rapidly since yesterday’s abortive attack, and I’d like to corral her as soon as possible. Assuming you’ve made provisions for all of my team?” he asked, raising his eyebrows and nodding his head slightly at Molt’s nine-foot frame.
“‘Her’?” asked Garcia, before Mat could answer his question.
Retroactivity shrugged. “I don’t like using ‘it.’ It’s dehumanizing. Obviously, there’s no real way to tell the Emissary’s gender, so I just picked what felt right. Creation and destruction, death and life. Besides, if Seed made her, wouldn’t he want a counterpart?”
“Do we even know that Seed is male?” asked Garcia.
Retroactivity flashed her a smile. “Feels right.”
“We took the back seats out of one of the vans,” Mat said, steering the topic back to Retroactivity’s question. “If that doesn’t work, we can borrow a larger vehicle from the airport.”
“Van’s good enough,” rumbled Molt. “I sit on the floor a lot.”
“I suspect you probably all planned to drive,” said Retroactivity, “but if you don’t mind, I’d like to put Lacuna in charge of Molt’s van. You’d be surprised at how different driving can be with an extra ton sitting on one side of the car, and I’d hate to have one of my team injured in an avoidable car accident.”
“Jesus,” said Sala, ignoring Garcia’s disapproving look. “You weigh a literal ton?”
Molt grinned. “I sit on the floor a lot.”
Lacuna stepped forward and extended her free hand with the palm up. “Director Roche? Keys, please.”
With only a slight hesitation, Mat withdrew the keys from his pocket and passed them to her. He’d hoped to maintain control of the situation for slightly longer, but it was already well out of his grasp. At this point, there was nothing to do but hang on and hope to mitigate whatever Retroactivity intended to do.
Even assuming that he intended to do anything. Mat reminded himself that he had no evidence that Retroactivity was there for any purpose other than stopping the Emissary’s rampage. With thousands already dead, a city destroyed and left radioactive and no sign of the carnage slowing, surely anything he did to fix the situation would be an improvement.
There was that smile, though, and a nagging feeling that he was being played with. Mat looked inward to his augment, but it was strangely silent—not simply not responding, but somehow actively absent. It was an unusual and worrisome situation, and he had no idea what to do about it at all.
Taunt and Lacuna got into the front seat of one van while Molt climbed in the back, causing the vehicle to sink alarmingly low on its shocks. Garcia took Replix and Halflife in another, which left Mat riding with Retroactivity while Sala drove.
“So what is your plan?” Mat asked Retroactivity as the
y left the airport and sped along the roads.
“In short? I intend to go toe-to-toe with the Emissary. I don’t think she’ll expect that.”
“She’s three stories tall and invulnerable,” scoffed Sala from the front seat. “Yeah, I’d say she’s not expecting you to just walk right up and feed yourselves to her.”
Retroactivity smiled. “I’m counting on that. That’s what will let us get close. Once that happens, it’s all over.”
Even if he wins, we’re just trading one monster for another, Mat thought. He thought about Retroactivity winning and what that would mean, and his augment flared in a spasm of pain, the most distinct message he’d ever gotten from it. Any result would be better than that.
Unbuckling his safety belt, Mat leapt from his seat and tore the steering wheel from Sala’s hands, yanking it hard to the right.
“The hell?” exclaimed Sala, too surprised to even fight for control as the van careened to one side, tipped over and rolled down the highway, tossing its occupants around brutally. The other vans screeched to a halt behind them, laying down thick rubber tracks in their effort not to join in the collision.
Lying on its side, steam poured up from the battered van’s hood. Otherwise, no movement came from the fallen vehicle.
Even if he wins, we’re just trading one monster for another, Mat thought. His train of thought was interrupted as Retroactivity put a hand companionably on his shoulder. “You’re welcome to back us up in any way you see fit, of course, but I believe we can do this with no harm to any of your agents.”
“I appreciate that,” Mat told him. He sat back, feeling like something had been on the tip of his tongue. Whatever it was, it wasn’t coming to him now.
“I respect the work you do at Augment Affairs,” Retroactivity continued. “I think the balancing act you do is admirable.”
His smile seemed mocking again, and Mat had abruptly had enough. Casting aside all of his carefully-honed political instincts, he replied, “I can’t say the same for you.”
“How’s that?” asked Retroactivity pleasantly.
“Half of DC is beholden to you, and the other half just wishes they had the opportunity. You’re a modern-day mafia, a one-man political machine, and no one’s fighting back. You’re a fascist hiding behind the trappings of democracy. You think that your way is the only way and the best way. But instead of at least having the decency to drag this idea out into public where people can look at it and judge for themselves, you hide in the shadows and pull strings to get what you want.”
Retroactivity made a show of looking down at his pristine white suit. “I just stepped forward to fight Seed, the current focus of the world’s attention. I don’t feel particularly hidden.”
Mat grunted. “I’m not going to play word games with you. If you can pick the future you want, then you’ll just pick one where I lose the discussion, so there’s no sense in wasting my time trying to win it. I know that you know what I meant.”
“Perhaps in another timeline you made your point eloquently, you mean? And what, in that perfect timeline, was the outcome?”
Mat stared him dead in the eye. “I hate the politics that my job requires. I hate the maneuvering and the carefully-not-saying and the cozying up to people who are monsters, Augments and norms alike. It’s worth it for the ends I can achieve, for the ‘balancing act,’ as you put it. But the fact that I smile and compromise with people like you does not mean that I approve of or appreciate you in any way. You are the cause of as many problems as you’re the solution to. In fact, you’re often the cause of the problems you solve.”
“Surely you’re not suggesting that I set this up?” Retroactivity asked, a smile still quirking his lips.
“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not that powerful,” said Mat, sitting back. “You’re an opportunist, a carrion-eater. You find situations and capitalize on them. You’re not an instigator.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” said Retroactivity, unperturbed.
Mat felt better for having spoken his mind, but at the same time, the victory was oddly hollow. He supposed it was because no matter what he had said, he knew it was the conversational outcome that Retroactivity had picked. He had had no real chance of surprising or wounding him; with infinite possibilities to choose from, Retroactivity would simply have picked a different result. There was nothing fair about an Augment-5.
In the front seat, Sala kept his eyes on the road. He was not a reticent man by nature, but this fight was well above his pay grade.
Conversation was sparse after that, but eventually the freeway signs began announcing that they were in Miami. A smoky haze hung in the air ahead, stained an ominous shade of purple. From this vantage point, the city still looked mostly fine, but the skyline was all wrong. Mat thought again about the bright flash and the hungry, hot wind, and shuddered.
Up on the dashboard, a device about the size of a briefcase began to click intermittently. Sala glanced at it, slowing the vehicle as the clicks began to increase in frequency. Mat looked over at the other side of the freeway and saw abandoned cars sitting with their doors open. These were the remnants of the stalled evacuation, the traffic jam he’d run to after the detonation. Many of those toward the back had panicked, leaving their cars and fleeing on foot. Clearly, not all had come back for their vehicles.
The Geiger counter was clicking every second or so as they disembarked from the van. Its sound almost echoed on the eerily empty freeway. Next to them, Halflife and Replix stepped out of Garcia’s van. Replix stretched and cracked his neck.
“We doing this or what?” he asked, his board shorts looking even more out of place in this apocalyptic landscape.
“Where’s the other van?” asked Mat, suddenly noticing that the third vehicle was absent.
“They turned off a while back,” said Sala.
Mat turned his attention to Retroactivity, who shrugged.
“I did say we had a plan already in place,” he said, donning a pair of unfashionably large glasses. “They’re where they need to be. Lacuna says goodbye, I’m sure, although you’ll get a chance to see her again later.”
Mat frowned, unsure what to make of that comment. Before he could come up with a retort, Retroactivity inclined his head and said, “Director Roche,” in a clear dismissal. His remaining team members took the cue and walked toward him, and together the three strode off down the highway toward the disaster that had been Miami.
“What was that thing about Lacuna?” asked Garcia, her interest piqued.
“She and I used to know each other,” said Mat. “We went to high school together. I haven’t seen her in years. First time I realized she was working for him, I tracked her down, asked her what she was thinking.”
“I’m guessing she didn’t manage to convince you that he was a great guy?” asked Garcia.
“She didn’t even try,” said Mat. “She said, ‘I’m not working for him. I’m working with him. I’m working for me, like always.’”
He laughed at some internal thought. “That really was classic Lyssa. She was always working an angle, and she always managed to come out on top. If she and Retroactivity were competing to take down Seed, I’d give her even odds of managing it first.”
“What’s her augment?” asked Sala.
“No augment! She’s just good. Quick, clever and tenacious. I could have used her working for me.” Mat laughed again. “Well, with me.”
The wind gusted, and the clicking of the Geiger counter suddenly spiked in intensity. Sala glanced nervously at the van.
“Look, as long as someone takes him down, I’m happy,” he said. “So let’s go watch that happen from a safe distance.”
“Back to the DAA,” Mat agreed. He cast one last glance after the receding figures, then briefly shook his head. “I don’t like him. I hope he pulls this out, but I don’t like him. God, I’d kill for a real Reader augment.”
“Seventy-four,” said Retroactivity.
“What?” as
ked Replix.
“Seventy-four. He tried to kill me seventy-four times on the way here.” Retroactivity shook his head, smiling in admiration. “That’s quite a little trick he has. It’s been ages since I had to do that much work just to get through a conversation. And that wasn’t even to sway him to my side! That was just to keep him from actively martyring himself in an attempt to take me down.”
“That’s more than twice a minute,” remarked Halflife, her eyes roaming the city ahead. “It’s beautiful here. Exotic.”
“Well, a lot of them were variations on the same minute,” said Retroactivity. “Trial and error. I’ll need you to decontaminate my suit for the cameras. Don’t want to spread your exotic landscape around too much.”
“Don’t we?” asked Halflife. “Is she online?”
“Still driving, and no. Rule by request, not by fiat. It’s far easier to maintain.”
“Okay, could you two have one conversation at a time?” complained Replix.
“Lacuna’s driving, city’s radioactive,” said Halflife.
Replix made a face. “You could have just said that.”
“First contact,” said Retroactivity. Replix tensed, looking around for the attack, but Halflife just pointed up the freeway. There, shambling up the onramp towards them, came a lone humanoid figure.
“That’s one of hers?” asked Replix.
“Oh, yes,” breathed Halflife. “Threaded through and through. You should see him. It’s like kintsugi.”
“I do see him, and I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t have your weird eyes.”
Halflife cast him a pitying glance over her shoulder. “You have no poetry in your soul.”
Replix shrugged. “Yeah, guilty. So what’s the play?”
“When he explodes,” Retroactivity said, “we’ll be behind you.”
“Aw, come on. Already?”
Retroactivity gestured. “Do you see any other options?”
“Don’t act like there couldn’t have been. You set this up. Literally all of this.”
“Yeah, guilty,” Retroactivity replied with a smile. “Now then.”
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