Titans

by Niall Teasdale

  ‘What do you want?!’ the man shrieked, backing away quickly.

  ‘I want you to take a message to your bosses,’ Mercy replied, following him. ‘Leave me and my friends alone, and I’ll stop killing your people and trashing your business.’

  He managed a sneer. ‘We don’t take orders from–’

  Mercy shot him in the right arm. His remark was cut off in a scream and he fell, his eyes rolling back as the pain took him over into unconsciousness. Mercy sighed. ‘I guess you won’t be taking my message then.’ She plucked a small radio from where it was attached to her waistband and thumbed the transmit key. ‘Garner to NYA Security. I have somewhere you’ll be very interested in. Please respond. Over.’

  ~~~

  ‘I think I could get high just standing in this room,’ Faith said, looking around at the foliage.

  ‘It doesn’t seem to be affecting me,’ Mercy replied.

  ‘More powerful Titans are frequently resistant to drugs, diseases, etc.’

  ‘Well, that sucks. I was hoping I could find a bong and relax for a while.’

  ‘Sorry, but I doubt it.’ Faith bent to pick up one of the fallen submachine guns the dead gangsters had dropped. ‘They are not supposed to have these.’

  ‘Really? I thought you had reverted to twentieth-century gun laws.’

  ‘Hm, no. If anything, we’ve gone further back. There are a lot of guns in circulation and more than a little justification for carrying them. We really do have a militia. However, these are probably from a cache of weapons reserved for Security. The ammunition is hard to come by. We don’t normally issue them for general use. At a guess, we have inventory missing.’

  Mercy shrugged. ‘The Organisation found out about Sophia’s power really quickly. They hit us the night we arrived on-planet. They’ve got one or more informants within your government.’

  ‘Within my office, or the office of one of my generals. We know it, but we’ve never managed to find out who it is. Are you planning to continue this… vendetta?’

  ‘I haven’t managed to get my message across yet, apparently.’

  ‘In that case, I’ll get you a list I have of places we suspect may be Organisation safe houses.’

  Mercy tilted her head questioningly. ‘If you know about them, why haven’t you–’

  ‘Because we have no reason to. Call it lack of a just cause. You, however, are not with Security and you do have a reason.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I do.’

  1st May.

  Another apartment building, this time on West 50th Street in what had been Hell’s Kitchen back in the day. Now the entire band across the island from Central Park to 34th Street was Midtown District, but that had not changed the local flavour. Maybe it had even enhanced it; the building looked run-down. The rendering on the walls was cracked and the fire escape looked like it would collapse into a pile of rust if anyone used it.

  ‘Not going in that way,’ Mercy muttered as she looked up at the building in the evening light. There were five storeys, but also an obvious basement which had a couple of doors into it either side of the staircase to the front door. They were short doors, probably originally built to be reached down some steps until the modern sidewalk had been built. ‘That has possibilities, however.’

  A second of concentration reduced the locking mechanism to dust. She pulled the handle and the door swung out, revealing a small, bare room, the walls covered in some sort of waterproof rendering. There was a door at the back, so Mercy stepped inside and made her way across to it. She could already tell roughly what was waiting on the other side, but it was not until she opened the door and looked that she knew what was in all the crates. The damn things were still labelled!

  Six held ten P52 PDWs each. Mercy yanked open one of the crates and pulled out one of the weapons. NYA Security could have their property back soon enough, but as payments for services rendered, so to speak, Mercy could have a new gun. She was a better shot when she had a shoulder stock to work with anyway. Ammo would be a problem… Except that there were ten crates of magazines for the weapons. Were they planning to go to war? She slotted one mag into her new weapon and pulled the charging handle. Then she grabbed five more magazines and stuffed them into the pockets in her coat.

  Hand grenades. There were crates of hand grenades. A dozen of them, all packed with the latest pre-Wave military anti-personnel weapon, the M83. Electronic detonator capable of a number of different operating modes. Very nasty and not the kind of thing you wanted in the hands of criminals.

  And then she found the crates of rockets. Six crates, each holding a launcher and eight missiles. Hand grenades were bad enough, but this was something else. She checked the missiles and found that they were carrying shaped charge warheads, things meant for use against tanks. Or, she supposed, massive Titans with armoured hides.

  In a second room she found crates of medical supplies and tinned food being hoarded. It really seemed like the Organisation was setting up for a siege. That did not entirely fit with her perception of them as a bunch of criminals. Well, even criminals had to be into survival in this world…

  Before calling Security, she went upstairs to see whether anyone would be willing to explain just what the Organisation thought it was doing.

  ~~~

  ‘No,’ Faith said, ‘I’m not sure why they’re stockpiling weapons, but I’m glad we got them back. Over.’

  Mercy was talking to her over the radio, so she pressed the transmit key before responding. ‘I couldn’t find anyone to tell me, but I think I got someone to agree to take the message up the chain of command. Besides, capturing at least one of their caches is going to hurt. Over.’

  ‘And talking about it over open radio like this may reach someone who’ll listen. Over.’

  ‘My thoughts precisely. If I were them, I’d be listening to the Security channels. Over.’

  There was a laugh in Faith’s voice when she replied. ‘I’m quite sure they do. Are you planning to move on to another target? Over.’

  ‘I’m considering it but telling them which one seems like a bad idea. They’ll just have to guess. I’ll let you know if I find anything. Garner out.’

  2nd May.

  It was, according to Mercy’s watch, just coming up to one a.m. and she was considering calling it a night. She had been through three more possible safe houses and found nothing quite as interesting as the weapons cache, but she had talked to several more members of the Organisation and heard evidence that her message was getting through. Specifically, they were not quite as cocky about how tough the Organisation was and how they were going to end her rampage.

  One more and then done. She burned her way through the lock on the rear door – apparently a kitchen door – having climbed into the yard from a rear alley. P52 at the ready, she eased the door open and stepped inside. There was no one in the rear of the building on the ground floor, but they might have heard her enter from the front where there were people who looked like they were on guard duty. Stupid not to guard the back.

  And that was when the grenade lying on a kitchen counter nearby exploded. The pain and shock were intense. Mercy was pushed back through the doorway into the yard, feeling like she had just been hit in the face by a truck and, in all probability, that she was lucky to still be alive. Now, they had to have heard that and she needed to get out of there, or at least into cover, but moving was difficult at this point. She managed to move to one side and crouch down beside the door, gritting her teeth and waiting for the men inside to come find her.

  Stupid. She had got overconfident and not looked hard enough for traps when she was scouting. She pushed the pain down and considered her options. Climbing the back wall to get out was probably not going to be practical; in her wounded state, it would take too long. She could hear shouting; they were already on their way from the front, maybe being cautious, if she was lucky, since they did not know her capabilities. Capabilities! She could teleport out. She could teleport out if she cou
ld concentrate through the pain and, right now, she was having trouble suppressing the pain enough to think. She had the P52 and it looked like it was undamaged. NYA Security had to have heard the blast too. Maybe. Maybe she could hold off the goons long enough for Security to get here.

  She heard the kitchen door slam open and then the sound of a P52 firing on full auto. Whoever was firing, they were not taking into account her position behind a wall and crouched down. They would come looking soon enough, of course, and then…

  The pain eased suddenly and substantially and then it vanished entirely. No pain and she felt like there was nothing wrong with her. Faith had said the more powerful Titans could heal faster. Mercy had assumed she meant that they took a day or two to heal what might take weeks normally, not that they could be hit in the face by a bomb and shake it off in under ten seconds. For a second or so, Mercy remained crouched where she was, trying to work out what had just happened. Had it been some sort of illusion? No, not an illusion. Her coat was still a mess. That was… annoying.

  The man with the other P52 almost jumped out through the doorway, turning as he did so to try to catch Mercy in his sights. Unfortunately for him, he turned the wrong way. Mercy’s blue beam weapon punched up through his side, reducing tissue in his lungs and heart to literally nothing. Before his body dropped to the stone surface, she was rising to her feet and sweeping in through the doorway. People were going to pay for ruining her new coat!

  ~~~

  A bullet stopped just less than an inch from Mercy’s chest and the man who had fired it immediately held up his hands in surrender. He was still holding the gun, so Mercy kept her P52 aimed at him as she advanced into the room. He seemed to realise her problem and tossed the big revolver onto a chair. Mercy lowered her weapon but kept it ready.

  She had made it up to the fifth floor via the expedience of shooting a lot of people on the way up. They seemed to be quite determined that she should not reach the top floor and she had to wonder why that was. So far, the best explanation was that they did not want her to get to this man. Also so far, Security had not turned up to find out what was happening.

  ‘Who are you?’ she asked.

  ‘Security will tell you when they eventually get here. My name is Loyd Nenci. I’m a businessman. A trader.’

  ‘I’m sure you are. Considering how many men tried to stop me getting to you, I think you’re something more than that.’

  ‘I belong to an organisation of likeminded businessmen who ensure that–’

  ‘Military weapons are stockpiled. Useful Titans are kidnapped. Less useful ones are killed. I’m familiar with your modus operandi.’

  ‘We are more than–’

  ‘Just shut up and listen, Mister Nenci. You seem like you’re important.’ Stepping forward, Mercy picked up his pistol and began to examine it. ‘Maybe you can make considered decisions. Maybe you can even make things happen. I want the Organisation to stop trying to grab my friend. I want them to stop trying to kill me. If they stop, I’ll stop. Otherwise, I’ll leave more of your people dead in my wake.’

  ‘I can’t make that decision, Colonel Garner,’ Nenci replied. ‘I can take it to my… management. Assuming I’m not in custody, of course.’

  ‘Security aren’t here yet. If you leave now, you’ll have time to get away. Assuming you are going to take my message up the chain. Otherwise…’ She lifted the revolver and pointed it at his chest.

  ‘My word on it. My manager will hear your request.’

  ‘Good.’ Mercy lowered the pistol. ‘I’m keeping your revolver. Nice weapon. I think it’ll come in useful.’

  ‘But–’

  ‘You ruined my new coat, Mister Nenci. That proximity grenade in the kitchen was a nasty move. You can consider this payment. Where’s the ammo? And keep in mind that you probably only have minutes to leave.’

  Nenci sagged. ‘I’ll get it for you before I go.’

  ~~~

  ‘Are you Colonel Garner?’ The person asking was about fifteen. Something about him suggested that he was an old fifteen. You probably grew up fast in post-Wave New York. He was standing outside Mercy’s building, dressed in a worn, blue T-shirt and torn grey slacks. Apparently, he had been waiting for Mercy to get back from ordering a new coat from Zuri. That had taken a little longer than intended because Zuri had insisted on taking proper measurements.

  ‘I’m not a colonel anymore, but I suppose that’s me.’

  ‘Well, they said to get a message to Colonel Garner. Said you’d be wearing a coat that looked like it had been in an explosion.’

  ‘It’s lucky I haven’t replaced it yet then, isn’t it? What’s the message?’

  The boy pulled a piece of folded paper from his pocket and held it out. ‘You’re to go to that address as soon as possible. Uh, alone.’

  Mercy took the paper and looked at the address written in very neat block capitals. ‘Who gave you this?’

  ‘Some guy. Paid me two ration vouchers to deliver it.’

  ‘Hm. Okay. I suggest you forget you ever saw this. And stay away from men handing out ration vouchers.’

  The boy grinned. ‘Not much chance of that, lady.’ Then he was off, running north.

  ~~~

  The address on East 99th Street turned out to be an abandoned sanitation department building. She had no need to break the lock because the door was open, but she lifted her new revolver from under her coat as she walked in because she was not alone.

  Of course, she was not expecting to be alone and might have been suspicious if she had been. They had tried to blow her up once, so maybe they were aiming to drop a building on her. But probably not also on the lone individual she was supposed to see when she walked into what appeared to be an old waste-sorting room.

  He was a tall, slim man in a suit, an actual suit which Mercy had thought no one wore these days. It was difficult to tell much more about him since his head was covered by a balaclava-style mask. He had quite thin lips and probably blue eyes. He was sitting on a straight-backed chair which had certainly seen better days, but he got to his feet when he spotted Mercy walking in.

  ‘There’s no need for weapons, Colonel Garner,’ he said in a resonant, commanding sort of voice. ‘I’m unarmed.’

  ‘Agreed, you are. The four men you have stationed around this room with PDWs are not, however, so I’ll keep this pistol ready if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Ah. They’re here for my security.’

  ‘I’m sure. What do you want?’

  The man smiled, though some of the impact was lost thanks to the mask. ‘We want you to stop attacking us and killing our people. We have done you no harm, yet you have done considerable–’

  ‘If you’re going to keep that up, I’m going to go find another safe house to trash. You started this. Not only have you been trying to kidnap Sophia, but one of your goons burst into my bedroom and fired a shotgun at me. Don’t try to make yourselves sound innocent. I was the one who found that cache of weapons you had hidden.’

  ‘Our organisation takes the security of this city very seriously. When there’s a war, all of us go out to fight. Those weapons were there to ensure that we could fight effectively.’

  ‘That’s very patriotic of you, but you stole enough armament to take on an army. You stole it. You’re just like the survivalists from last century. You don’t need that gear in peacetime. You’d be armed as part of the city militia if peace fails. You will leave me alone. You will leave my friends alone. Then I will leave you alone. It’s that simple. Stay away from me and I’ll stay away from you.’

  Apparently, the man decided that arguing further was not going to get him anywhere. ‘That arrangement is acceptable.’

  ‘Good.’ Mercy turned to leave and then paused, looking back. ‘My friends include my seamstress. Zuri Adamson. Has a shop in Greenwich Village. If any of your goons visit her for–’

  ‘De Santis’s “arrangement” with Miss Adamson was unsanctioned. He has been reprimanded for his
behaviour. We won’t be bothering Miss Adamson again.’ There was a flat tone in the delivery which suggested De Santis’s reprimand might well have been terminal.

  Mercy nodded. ‘Good enough. Hopefully, we’ll never meet again.’ She set off once again for the entrance.

  ‘A wish we can all get behind, Colonel Garner.’

  3rd May.

  ‘So, they backed down,’ Faith said.

  Once again, Mercy was in the president’s office, sitting across the desk from her. ‘Seems so. I guess only time will tell.’

  ‘You’ve achieved something, Colonel. I believe they’ll stick to their agreement. And we have a lot of weapons back in our possession we didn’t even know we were missing.’

  ‘Glad to be of service. And, speaking of that, I’d like to continue being of service. Somehow. I don’t think I quite fit into your Security service, but if I’m going to be a “walking engine of destruction” as you put it, I’d like to try to use that to make this world a little less broken.’

  Faith smiled. ‘I’ll arrange something. You’re right, I don’t think you fit with Security, but we can informally grant you a rank and police powers. If you’re willing to fight for the NYA, you’ll be most welcome to do so. Miss Sauter has already expressed an interest in helping us with repairing currently unusable equipment.’

  ‘She’s bored.’

  ‘And, I believe, Doctor Harris is to start working with Waveguide.’

  ‘He’s bored and interested in what they’re doing. I’m not sure what Joe wants to do now. I’ll talk to him.’

  ‘He’ll be welcome whatever he chooses to do with his powers.’

  Mercy nodded. ‘We got that. You need all the help you can get.’

  ‘Oh, Colonel, you have no idea…’