by R S Penney
Pressing her lips together, Anna looked up to blink at him. “You really have no idea who you're dealing with,” she murmured. “Do the words 'Justice Keeper' mean anything to you?”
The man grinned, bowing his head to stare down at his own shoes. “Nice try,” he said, gesturing to her. “But I'll take anything you've got too. Phone, wallet, keys. Right now, it's every man for himself, and I'm a whole lot bigger than you.”
Her anger flared hot and bright. Another arrogant jerk-wad who assumed that size was the most important factor in any conflict. Her years of training, focus and discipline all made irrelevant by the fact that she was tiny. What she wouldn't give to teach him the depth of his mistake.
Those idiots outside the thrift shop – the ones who had tried to beat up Jack – had learned to their sorrow not to underestimate her based on size. “If you really want a fight,” she said, stepping forward and standing on her toes for added height. “I'd be more than happy to make you regret your stupidity.”
Raynar came around the corner.
The boy's silhouette was right behind her, standing with his hands in his pockets and directing a small smile at the other man. This close, she could make out the curve of his lips. “But he doesn't want to have a fight.”
The man who stood before Anna suddenly blinked in confusion. He shook his head as if trying to clear the fog out of his brain. “I…You got stuff I can use. Your phone, your wallet and anything else. Now.”
“She's scarier than she looks,” Raynar said.
In response, the man's face went bone white, and he stared at Anna as he would an oncoming freight train. “I…You got stuff…”
“Let this one go, friend.”
The man turned around, hiding his face in his hands, and for a moment, it looked like he might start crying. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Let's get out of here. We don't want anything they've got.”
His younger brother began to protest, of course, but Raynar had put the fear of the Bleakness itself into those two. In seconds, they were turning around and scurrying up the sidewalk like a couple of frightened raccoons.
Anna winced, breathing deeply to maintain her composure. “Thank you,” she said with a curt nod. “But I could have handled those two. You really didn't need to work your mojo on them.”
Raynar was smiling down at himself, chuckling softly. “We're trying to keep it low-pro, remember,” he said, nudging her shoulder. “There are solutions that don't require so much flash, boom, bang. Yeah?”
“I suppose.”
The woman in the sundress was standing against the wall with her arms folded, hunched over so far she was practically bent in half. “Thank you,” she said, shaking her head. “Those two would have…”
“You can come with us,” Anna said.
“Where?”
“We have a safe house. Come on.”
The walk back was a quiet, solemn affair for Anna. Instead of bringing back food, they were returning with yet another person in need of safety and supplies. Jena wouldn't be happy, but she would bear it with her usual quiet dignity followed by bitter ranting. In the end, she would take in Krista without complaint.
The real problem, in Anna's opinion, was her eagerness to leap into a fight just to prove her capability. Not so long ago, the thought of doing violence would have turned her stomach, and now she was eager for it? What exactly was this world doing to her? Well, it wasn't the world itself…It was the way everyone with a Y-chromosome dismissed her as incompetent or irrelevant. She wanted to go home. She would do her duty to the bitter end, but there was a part of her that longed for simpler days.
The safe house was a red-bricked building on Bergen Street with windows on each of its three stories and steps leading up to the front door. Once inside, she found people milling about in the front hallway.
An open door led into an apartment where furniture had been pushed against the living room walls, leaving space for a round wooden table in the middle of the floor. It wasn't an apartment anymore so much as a base of operations.
The man who sat in a wooden chair was tall and well-muscled with a thin beard on his copper-skinned face and black hair that he wore parted to the left. “No,” he growled, shaking his head. “I've got twenty good men ready to go.”
Detective Pedro Juarez had been climbing the ranks of the NYPD until Slade came along and turned this city into a war zone, and from the moment they had met him just a few short days ago, he had been eager to gather a squad of his cop buddies, pick up as many guns as he could manage and take the fight to Slade.
Jena stood over the table with her arms crossed, dressed in gray pants and a beige trench coat that fell almost to her knees. Her face glistened with sweat, and her boyish auburn hair was a mess. “And I've told you,” she insisted. “You aren't equipped to go up against the havoc Slade will throw at you.”
Pedro slid his chair back.
Jena leaned forward, slamming her hands down on the table's surface and growling at him with teeth bared. “You're gonna listen to me, Pete,” she hissed. “I'm not willing to waste lives needlessly.”
Biting her lip, Anna looked down at herself, a lock of hair falling over one eye. “It may not be so simple,” she said, striding into the living room. “We found nothing on this run. A few more days, and our supplies will be gone.”
A cellphone was sitting in the middle of the table with its screen pointed up at the ceiling, and she could see from the display that Pedro had called his Captain. “It's much the same up in Queens. Director Morane, we can mobilize when you need us.”
“Not yet.”
“We need a victory, Jen,” Anna said.
The other woman looked up at her with brown eyes that could set a block of ice on fire, then heaved out a sigh. “I've been thinking the same thing,” she said, backing away from the table. “But this one's on us.”
Anna wrinkled her nose, then shook her head in frustration. “Five people against a squad of Slade's goons?” she exclaimed. “With ziarogati in the mix? You have to know the odds of that are bad.”
“I'm aware.”
“We need all the help we can get.”
In a heartbeat, Pedro was on his feet and pacing a line across the room with fists clenched. He stopped at the wall, whirled around and turned back. “So far as I know, Director Morane, you're the only Keepers in town.”
“What's your point?”
“In war, you defend your best weapons. You are our best weapons. So my guys will back you up because one of you is worth ten of us.”
Just hearing that turned Anna's stomach; it was the exact antithesis of everything the Justice Keepers stood for. “No,” she insisted. “You've got it backwards. We protect you; you don't protect us.”
Pedro gave her his attention.
“If I may make a suggestion?” Aamani cut in.
Sitting primly in a pair of beige pants and a tight t-shirt that revealed an impressive figure for a woman who was pushing fifty, she rose from her chair with the smooth grace of a raindrop sliding down a window pane. “Anna is correct,” she said. “We need a major victory, and we need it now.”
The woman stood as still as a statue with hands folded behind herself, directing a tight-lipped frown at Jena. “Your loath to engage Slade's forces,” she said, raising one dark eyebrow. “May I assume that is because he will retaliate the instant you do.”
“Got it in one,” Jena replied.
Aamani closed her eyes, bowing her head to the other woman. One deep breath, and then she was the very definition of composure once again. “Then perhaps your goal should be to control where and when he retaliates.”
Tilting her head back, Anna blinked at the ceiling. “Here's as good a place as any,” she said, gesturing to the window. “We evacuate the neighbourhood and make our stand right here in Brooklyn.”
“I'm in on that,” Pedro said.
Jena whirled around to face him, striding forward until she was practically nose to nose with the man. �
��No, you're not,” she said, standing on her toes to give herself that half-inch she needed to loom over him. “This isn't a debate.”
Pedro's face crumpled, and he tossed his head about with a growl. “My people are an asset to you,” he insisted. “We're not just gonna sit still while-”
Jena turned her back on him and paced across the room until she was standing over the table. “Our first target will be one of those roving bands of wannabe soldiers,” she said. “A pair of Keepers, a telepath and two highly-trained spies will be more than a match for that.”
Anxiety squeezed Anna's stomach until she felt a little woozy. Thankfully, Seth was there to offer comforting emotions. She could sense the Nassai's confidence in her, and it made her want to stand up taller. Suppressing a smile took some effort. So distracted was she by the ego-boost that she almost failed to notice one very important detail.
You were wondering what had happened to your reluctance to do violence, Anna told herself. Well, you'll be happy to know that it's still very much intact.
The next few days were going to be rough.
The bedroom window looked out on Bergen Street from three stories up, but the only thing Anna could see when she peered through it was a solitary streetlight that cast a white glow down on the sidewalk below.
This wasn't her bedroom, of course – in fact, the Star Wars posters on every wall suggested that it belonged to a young person – but the family that had once claimed this apartment had been one of the first to be evacuated from the neighbourhood. Jena's plan would go into effect tomorrow. Taking down a team of half a dozen forty-something men with delusions of grandeur would be easy enough. The hard part would be what happened after Slade noticed their first strike.
Warriors with corrupted symbionts – and there was no telling how many Slade had under his command – and those twisted ziarogati… She had seen the mess Jack had made trying to take out that first one. Silver blood all over the walls. The ziarogat had pushed Jack to his limits, leaving him weak and exhausted. She had no illusions that she would have done any better in his place.
Right then, she wanted to snuggle into Bradley's arms. Her boyfriend had shown his usual level of stoic concern at the prospect of her going into a war zone. He hated the thought of anything happening to her, but he knew better than to voice his objections. She would have called him if she could, but they were trying to keep digital communication to a minimum.
The door swung open, revealing Gabi in a pair of shorts and a tank-top with thin straps standing in the hallway. Her long dark hair was left to hang loose, framing a face with the most solemn expression Anna had ever seen. “I guess we should turn in,” she said. “Big day tomorrow.”
Dressed in gray sweat pants and a black tank-top, Anna sat on the bed with her legs drawn up against her chest, hugging her knees. “You honestly think you can sleep?” she countered. “Somehow, I doubt it.”
“Futile gestures,” Gabi replied. “We seem to be prone to them.”
“Seems like.”
Gabi sat down on the edge of the mattress with hands on her knees, staring into her lap. “Well, at least we'll die with a positive outlook,” she muttered. “Never underestimate the importance of a good attitude.”
Anna grinned, slapping a hand over her face as a fit of giggles shook her body. “I'll remember that,” she murmured. “I don't know, Gabs…I want to say something uplifting, but I just can't find the words.”
“Perhaps there aren't any words.”
Anna crossed her arms, then fell backwards, grunting when the back of her head hit the pillow. “Twenty-year-old me would have disagreed,” she said. “The Anna who came to this world four years ago didn't believe in a no-win scenario.”
“And now?”
“Now, I'm not so sure,” she answered. “When I was growing up, I had such a pure, undiluted faith in the concept of universal justice. I figured that if we just tried to do the right thing, Providence would make up the difference. Something out there was looking out for us; you could call it the Companion or God…or maybe just the universe itself, but we weren't alone.”
“And you no longer think that?”
Anna shut her eyes tight, hissing as she sucked in a deep breath. “After the things that I've seen,” she began. “Sometimes, it just feels like things just keep on getting worse and worse, you know?”
The other woman frowned as she stared into the mirror across from the foot of the bed. “I know what you mean,” she said, nodding. “But if it means anything, the cynicism fades as you get older.”
“Really?”
“It takes time…and perspective.”
“And now I'm about to crawl under the covers with my recently-single best friend's ex-girlfriend,” Anna said. “At least fate knows how to keep it interesting.” Those words were a mistake – she knew it the instant she finished speaking – but there was no taking them back now.
Gabi stood.
She turned her back on Anna and faced the wall with her arms crossed. “It was for the best,” she replied after a very long moment. “I'll always care about Jack, but we aren't right for each other…and besides, I'm not the one he really wants.”
“Who does Jack really want?”
Turning partway around, Gabi looked over her shoulder with a tight frown. Then her expression softened, and she sat down on the bed once again. “Sometimes it's best to let people tell you in their own good time,” she said softly. “And if you're really feeling that uncomfortable, you could always bunk with Raynar.”
“No thank you!”
“That poor kid,” Gabi said through a fit of laughter. “The way our luck goes, he'll be dead before he even gets laid.”
“Nah! The universe isn't that unkind.”
Gabi pulled the covers up over herself and sighed as she rested her head on the pillow. “Let's get some sleep,” she murmured. “Like I said, big day tomorrow.”
Chapter 10
Sunlight from a clear blue sky shone down on a street lined with small red-bricked buildings of three or four stories. There were cars on each curb – vehicles that had been abandoned when their owners fled this part of town – but none were in motion.
Jena crouched on the sidewalk with her back pressed to a parked car, heaving out a deep breath. She wore a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt under her trench coat. Some folks would say that it was much too hot out for such clothing, but she liked the coat. It made her feel a little more bad-ass.
Jena closed her eyes, ignoring the prickle of sweat on her forehead. “Report,” she said, lifting her arm to speak into her gauntlet. “My back's starting to hurt. Tell me we've got a viable target.”
“A van is on the way,” Pedro replied through the speaker.
A quick glance over her shoulder revealed Gabrina and Anna squatting side by side against the next car over. Both were dressed in civilian clothing, though Anna kept her gun clutched in one hand, held up in front of her face like a symbol of faith. They would be hearing the report as well.
“A pack of Slade's goons,” Pedro went on. “We caught them making a mess down by the bridge, harassing people trying to get out of Manhattan. Word is that's where Slade has his weird cyber-soldiers.”
It made sense; being the heartless bastard that he was, Slade would assume that if the Keepers finally got off their asses and decided to make a stand, they would do so in the most visible part of the city. The centre of commerce for half the world? Yeah…New York would make a fine symbol that the Keepers wouldn't want to lose. But she wasn't interested in duking it out with ziarogati on streets lined with skyscrapers. “You've got them coming this way?”
“I do,” Pedro said. “Couple of my guys took some shots at their van. They didn't like that too much. I think they figured they crushed all resistance. They're on their way to you now, Jena. Be ready.”
Tilting her head back, Jena squinted up at the sky. “I will be,” she said, nodding. “Once we've got them in position, I want your people to keep driv
ing. I don't need them throwing themselves in the mix.”
“Understood.”
She unclipped the metal disk that contained the multi-tool's processor from her gauntlet and set it on the hood of the car. A few taps at the screen, and she was able to activate the tool's camera function.
The footage was panoramic, and she was able to scroll from side to side by sliding her finger across the screen. All she saw were a few abandoned shops and a restaurant on the far side of the street. No sign of trouble.
“Two minutes,” Pedro said.
Jena swallowed, then looked down at the sidewalk, a light breeze ruffling her hair. “All right,” she said for everyone on the open calm line. “Everyone knows their lines by heart, I'm hoping. 'Cause we don't get a dress rehearsal.”
Her people voiced their agreement.
“Aamani, are you in position?”
“I am,” the woman said through the speaker. “And I must say, this rifle handles like a dream. The scope alone is magnificent.”
“Just be ready to take the shot,” Jena muttered. “Raynar?”
The boy's voice was steadier than she would have expected. Jena had to give him credit; he seemed to be in perfect control of himself. “I can see the van approaching from up here,” Raynar said. “They're close. And, Director, I can feel hostility oozing from the mind of every man in that vehicle. These people aren't just doing a job. They like it!”
Clenching her teeth, Jena felt a wave of heat in her face. She hissed, then rubbed her brow with the back of her hand. “We'll see how much they like it when you put the fear of Bleakness itself into them.”
“Ten seconds,” Pedro said.
On her screen, Jena saw a small white car come screeching around the corner of an intersecting street. It sped up with such wild abandon, you might have thought the driver was trying to outrun the flood from a cracked dam. Those would be Pedro's buddies. No doubt they were terrified.
A gray van came around the corner mere moments later, speeding up as it pursued the fleeing car. Jena slid her finger across the screen, tilting the camera angle to catch a glimpse of the van's receding back end.
