by TR Cameron
“We don’t have any humans present on this level. There’s a post on four where the guards control these robots. Everything here is done by remote for fear of magic abilities we aren’t aware of being used to harm the guards or escape. It’s overkill for the prisoners we’ve seen so far, but they designed the facility against all contingencies, and this is what they came up with.”
Tony stared at the devices like he appraised them for his own use. “So, until you get that special prisoner who has the ability to control machines, we’re in good shape.”
“Right, but nothing lethal can happen on this level—or any other—without direct human intervention.”
Diana shook her head. “Other exits?”
“Not here. Level three, and it’s an exit only. Anyone trying to get in without first disarming the traps from inside using physical switches in the tunnel would collapse it and seal the access off.”
Murphy took them back to the elevator, called for it to open, and pushed the button for level A. “So, any questions?”
There were none. There really was nothing to say. Diana was sure the others thought the same thing she did.
Please, never ever let me be sent to the Cube as a prisoner.
Ten minutes later, they all sat around the conference room table with bottles of water and cups of coffee at hand. Diana started the ball rolling. “So, what would you like to see from our team?”
Warden Murphy took a deep drink from her mug and released a contented sigh. “We have most things covered. There are contingencies in place for almost any kind of attack on this building. The underground levels can be sealed off at the touch of a button and separating them from one another is equally as easy. We’re as close to impregnable as we can be.” She knocked on the table with a fist.
“But?”
The woman grinned. “Right. But. We would hope that if something did happen, your team would deploy in defense of the facility. We’d have to adapt in the moment to figure out how best to work it.”
Diana turned to her people. “Any thoughts?”
“Not about the Cube,” Cara replied. “But this might be a good time to talk about interfacing with the local PD.”
Tony nodded. “I’ve been in touch with my old boss. I can be the conduit for influencing how bounties are prioritized, so both we and the warden can have a voice in that.”
Murphy shrugged. “I can’t see how that’s a bad thing.”
Diana added, “At least we should make sure that level threes aren’t listed as level twos.” Cara barked a laugh, and the others looked confused. “All right, I need a private word with Warden Murphy.”
The others said their goodbyes and left the two leaders alone. Diana swiveled to face her squarely. “So, I want to know if you have any problem with ARES, especially the lack of direct oversight. I can see where that might be an issue for you.”
The woman chuckled. “I may be a bureaucrat, but that doesn’t mean I think bureaucracy is the solution to everything.”
Diana persisted. “I’m aware that you spent some time with the Paranormal Defense Agency, though. They’re basically by-the-book.”
Murphy shrugged and took a sip of her coffee to delay her answer. “That’s one of many reasons I didn’t stay with them. Sometimes, in order to get things done, you have to color outside the lines.”
She nodded, satisfied, and stood. “Call anytime.” She extended a hand.
The warden rose and shook it. “Hopefully, I won’t need to. But if anything goes wrong, count on it.”
Chapter Eleven
Rath watched the clock eagerly. Diana had a rule that he wasn’t to wake her until seven in the morning on Sundays. He’d checked the calendar to be sure, but it was Sunday, so he had to wait. Most of the previous two hours had been spent watching the kung fu channel, practicing moves on the couch, and adding his own acrobatic elements to them. Max surveilled him with droopy eyelids the whole time, but the troll imagined that he, too, waited for the magic moment to arrive.
Sundays were for training together.
As soon as the clock’s hands clicked into position, he ran to the opposite side of the couch, ready to wake Diana. She passed him on the way to the coffeepot with a wave. Her voice was scratchy. “Twenty minutes, Rath. Let me wake up.”
He performed a happy backflip. “Okay, twenty.” The Borzoi stretched lazily and rolled onto his side. “Good, Max. Rest twenty minutes. Then train.” Rath spent the time making his preparations. He slipped on the bandolier Emerson had created for him. Most of it was ornamental, but the little armor piece held several tiny throwing spikes for him to use. His paired needles slid into the cross-draw holster on his back. He had grown proficient at drawing and sheathing them after considerable practice. Now, he accomplished the action without a thought.
When the clock read seven-fifteen, he climbed to the floor and poked at Max until the dog rose obediently. Rath pulled himself into place on his collar and looked around expectantly. Diana appeared, wrapped in layers of exercise gear, a hat, and a heavy gray sweatshirt designed to ward off the February chill. A black backpack completed the ensemble.
He shook his head.
Will be slower. But good for strength.
They went outside and engaged in their separate warmups. Diana stretched on the porch railing, Max sniffed around the perimeter of their small yard, and the troll grinned. He had warmed up inside already. Finally, it was time. He could see it in the sparkle in Diana’s eye. She said, “Ready, boys?”
Rath struck a noble pose with his head pulled back and chin angled up. “Born ready.”
She laughed. “Okay, then. Three, two, one. Go.”
Diana surged to an early lead in the race and bounded down the hill toward the University. Rath had to poke Max many times to move in the right direction. Apparently, waking up was hard for him, too. But once the animal found his stride, it was glorious. He loved the feel of his mount beneath him and reveled in the blur as the world whipped past. It was one reason he stayed in his smallest size so much. It made everything that much more fun.
They reached the bottom of the hill with Diana and paused to cross the big street. Few cars were on the road, but they still waited for the white glowing person to replace the red X. After they traversed the five lanes, the dog surged into first place. Rath laughed as Diana fell behind. As they rounded to the library, she called, “Okay, Max is too fast. He has four legs. I only have two.” They jogged to a stop. Both runners panted moist clouds into the chill air. She looked at the troll. “Hand them over, short stuff.”
Rath slipped out of his bandoliers and surrendered the armor and weapons to her, then made sure she set his weapons carefully into a pouch attached to the backpack.
He flipped into the air and landed in his larger form but stopped at middle size. Diana had explained that the height was called three feet. It offered what he considered the optimal balance of acrobatic potential and power.
She nodded, grinned, and broke into a run without warning. The second part of the race had begun.
He bared his teeth. “Good job, Max. Keep up.” Rath dashed after her. She couldn’t match his speed, even with his smaller legs. He left his friend and savior laughing as he passed her. When she finally caught up again a full minute after he had arrived, he hung upside down from a set of horizontal metal bars in the place called the park.
Diana fell onto a green wooden bench with a laugh, rotated her ankles, and massaged her calves. “Too much office work these days, Rath. Running hurts.”
The troll bobbed his head, which made the world look very strange from upside down. “Must train.”
“You know, it’s funny you should mention that.” She slid the backpack off her shoulders and set it on the bench beside her. The zippers rasped as they opened, and she extracted his utility belt. He grinned and nodded. A somersault took him off the bars, and he jogged over. She handed him the pouch-covered black strap, and he fastened it across his hips. With practiced moveme
nts, he secured the Velcro straps of the holsters around each leg. She offered the batons, and he slipped them home.
They were angled for cross draw but could be pulled with the same-side hand as well. He checked to ensure they were set to safe mode.
It would be wrong to accidentally shock while training. The edges of his mouth curled in a grin. Wouldn’t it?
Diana knew Rath was up to something, but given the wicked smile on his face, she reasoned that she probably didn’t want to know what. She retrieved her own batons from her backpack and stood. They had practiced enough together to be comfortable using the real weapons instead of padded ones, and both were able to pull blows at the last second when they chose to do so. They focused on technique for most of their training. When they did choose speed, they usually switched to the foam versions, because the battles occasionally got a little exciting.
I suppose that’s an appropriate word for having a manic troll somersaulting around and smacking you with things.
They crossed to an empty patch of frosty grass, and Diana spun her weapons to loosen her wrists. Rath practiced drawing his several times and impressed her with the smooth way the baton went from holster to full extension in one quick flick of his wrist. She wouldn’t want to face off against the troll for real, even though he’d be about the only opponent she’d ever taken on who was more height-challenged than she was. “Start us off, Rath.”
He needed no additional urging and waded in with batons a-whirl. She’d taught him the eight main attack vectors, and they generally stuck to them during warmup, varying the order to keep one another on their toes. She reacted to each incoming blow without needing to think. Frequent practice allowed her to avoid, redirect, or block each swing. Her counterattacks were more difficult because of his size, which benefitted the troll so long as he protected his head. She snaked a baton through his defense with a clever curve and tapped him on the skull.
Rath growled and increased his attack speed.
Damn. I always underestimate how fast he really is.
She worked hard to defend herself, but eventually, one slipped through and rapped her on the knee.
He paused, did a celebratory backflip, and grinned at her. “One to one.”
She sat on a dry patch of ground and held a hand up. “Two-minute rest.”
Her gaze drifted to check on Max, who was busily sniffing the playground. He has lots of kids to smell, even in the winter, I guess. The place was usually deserted on Sunday mornings, which is why they chose it for training. Not that Diana would have worried about the combination of dog, troll, and children. But parents occasionally seemed nervous about the idea when the pair was around. She turned to Rath. “I have a question for you.”
He crouched until they were eye to eye. “Okay.”
“It seems to me like you don’t want to get as big as you can. Is that true? Is there a reason for it?”
He shrugged. “Bigger is less agile. Acrobatics are more fun than pure strength.”
It’s funny how well he speaks when he chooses to.
She tilted her head and considered his words. His fighting style did rely much more on speed and dexterity than it did brute force. And she could imagine, assuming one was skilled enough to have a choice, that cavorting around like a damn fool might hold some appeal. She managed a smile. “Okay, I can see that.” Her stomach twisted painfully as she forced the next sentence out. “But to be clear, I’m not holding you back, am I?”
The troll grinned. “Nope. All is good.” A canny expression slid onto his face. “But maybe more Maxes would help.”
The tension flooded out of her, and she growled playfully. “We will not get another dog, Rath.” The troll laughed at her, and Max gave a timely bark. “It might make sense for you to train in a bigger form, though, don’t you think? In case something happens that requires extra strength?”
His thought process was visible, but he seemed reluctant to respond. She fumbled in the backpack and pulled out four foam cylinders—two sized for her and a pair for someone taller than her—and held the larger versions out to him.
After a moment, he grinned. “Is good. Must train.”
A short while later, they were set. Rath towered above her at over seven feet tall, not counting his neon-purple hair. His belt and shock batons rested safely in her backpack, and they each whirled the foam sticks as they prepared to battle. Max sat beside the bench and watched the pair curiously.
I imagine this isn’t something you see every day. She laughed inwardly. I hope no easily shocked people wander by.
She lunged at her opponent with a yell and aimed for his legs. Logic said they would be his weak point as he adjusted to his height. He skipped to the side, brought one baton down in a curling sweep, and flicked the other at her head. She ducked below it and stopped, then turned to face him. His gaze was intent. He was clearly focused on whatever he felt in the new form.
Diana moved in straight and slow, and they parried at close range. It resembled their usual training but with more effort and energy and the foam allowed for full-force attacks. His height prevented him from attacking her legs, though.
Aha! The tables have turned.
Her head, however, was another matter. She was forced to focus on defense against his flurry of headshots to the exclusion of making any offensive moves of her own.
She backed away to evade the blows and thrust back into the attack. She flicked her fingers without thinking and used her telekinesis to bump his leg out of the way. He staggered, and she scored a hit as she ran past. She laughed as she turned. “Okay, not fair. I know.”
Rath grinned as he moved in fast. She blocked the first blows, but when he brought a kick around that connected to her thigh with enough force that she stumbled sideways, her smile immediately matched his. “So, that’s how you want to play it?”
He nodded.
“Your funeral, pal. It’s on.” She lunged and used a mixture of physical attacks and telekinetic blasts, then practiced redirecting his blows with pulses of magic. Every so often, she threw in a kick to keep him worried about that possibility, but in a real fight against an opponent with batons, she’d focus on weapons before she went hand-to-hand. Finally, during a particularly vicious pass, he disarmed her with two simultaneous sweeps of his rods.
Diana staggered back as he advanced and chopped down with his batons in what would be a battle-ending strike to her head. She knelt and threw her arms up, imagining a movie scene where the hero blocked with a quarterstaff, and a shimmering force appeared between her fists to impede his weapons. He blinked, and despite her own very real surprise, she spun into a sweep that knocked the troll’s legs out from under him. It felt like she’d collided with tree trunks, and she regretted the bruises she’d have before the action was even finished. But it was successful, at least. He landed on his behind, looked at her, and echoed peal upon peal of laughter as he shrank to his three-foot size again.
“Diana. Fighting mode. Is good.” She fell back onto the cold grass and laughed with him.
Is good. A groan followed almost instantly as the troll yelled, “Round two!” and flipped ninja-style to his feet.
Right. Fighting mode. Must train.
Chapter Twelve
The lower level of the main ARES facility was finally finished. Diana nodded in appreciation of the excellent work the construction crews had accomplished. The core took up half the floor. There was no need for the option to secure it as they did in the DC office, so there were no tracks for the mounts or movable walls. But otherwise, it was identical. The center display and mounted monitors looked crisp and efficient as they displayed data on the looming threat.
The others were already gathered. Cara and Tony stood within the technological oval and both wore the new AR glasses they’d received. Each human agent now owned two pairs, one for ARES missions and another for their roles as security consultants. Rath had his own set sized for his three-foot form to use inside the base with ridged ends to hold
them in place, but they had agreed it was probably a bad idea for him to wear them in the field. They were expensive, and size-changing trolls were not part of the eyewear’s operating specs. He followed her to the rest of her team.
The separate displays showed satellite views of the block surrounding the museum, and the main display table provided the blueprints of the building. Tony motioned in the air to interact with the image and zoom in or expand various parts of it.
We should call him Tony Stark. Heh.
He looked up as she neared. “Howdy, boss. This looks like a mess.”
Cara nodded. “A serious mess.”
“That’s pretty much our mandate.” She laughed and dark chuckles answered her as she gestured at the arrayed information. “Has anything changed in the twelve hours since we last reviewed this?”
The other woman shook her head. “Same old. It’s far from ideal.”
“That’s also our mandate.” She waved for them to follow, and they crossed to the armory near the entrance door. Working quickly, she moved from one black metal cabinet to the next and used her palm print and the numerical code to unlock them. The locks would respond to any member of the team, but she felt a certain pride of ownership and wanted to do it herself.
There were five, each about six feet tall and four wide, a couple of feet deep, and securely attached to the wall. A pair were dedicated to weapons, two more to armor and defensive items, and the last to specialty gear. Dark plastic benches were arranged in front for equipping lower-body defenses and boots. There was more than enough room in the area and also in the cabinets since the space was designed for eight agents rather than the three-and-a-half currently assigned. Another similarly sized portion of the chamber on the opposite side was conspicuously empty, reserved for whatever other needs might appear as their purpose evolved.
