Fight The Peace

by S T Branton

  His eyes glowed a dark purple with a red swirling core and mesmerized me. I felt myself losing the will to fight back and only wanted to stare into those eyes. He came closer, and a small voice in my mind screamed that I had to do something fast.

  Dog barked again, this time right next to my ear. I snapped back to reality, yanked up the crossbow, and fired. The effect on the assassin was twofold. First, he lifted off the ground several feet as the bolt picked him up. Then he exploded, starting in his chest where the bolt hit him, and ripped parts of him off and flung them across the open area.

  Hot, black blood rained down on the concrete, but since the bolt was so intense, it went everywhere instead of only on me. After a few seconds of blinking at the sky where I saw him explode, I sat up, shocked to find I wasn’t covered in recently deconstructed assassin.

  Even if I had been, I probably wouldn’t have cared much right then. Definitely later. That would have been a very long shower. But not right then. I was too focused on the mission that brought us to the harbor in the first place. I threw open the shipping container and saw Cabot lying on the cold metal floor. She looked a little rough, but that only further convinced me it was really her. I ran to her side and dropped to my knees to pull her up.

  “Are you okay?”

  She pulled away from me, her eyes wide. Damn. I’d spooked her.

  “Who are you?” she demanded.

  She sounded pretty tough for a woman who went through everything she did.

  “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you. We’re here to help,” I said.

  “We?”

  I looked behind me and remembered she saw a hulking black dog rather than the man I knew him to be.

  “Me. I’m here to help. Come on.” I reached for her hand and tried to pull her to her feet, but she pulled away again.

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  “I know this is a lot and you don’t have any reason to trust me, but I highly recommend you do because if you don’t, some seriously bad shit will go down. We don’t have time to churn all the way through it right this second, but I can explain on the way.” I gestured for her to follow me.

  Some part of that sank in and she nodded, then let me help her up and guide her out of the shipping container. The world leader seemed fairly steady on her feet, all things considered, but I supported her as we hurried through the maze.

  She gasped at the blood streaked across the ground and the bodies strewn in the corridors between the shipping containers. I barely noticed the carnage, but Cabot looked like she was losing her ability to keep walking forward. She squeezed her eyes closed and pressed her fingertips to them.

  “I don’t believe this. I don’t believe any of this. I don’t believe this is happening,” she muttered.

  My coat wiggled, and Splinter scrambled out of the pocket. He took his place on my shoulder and waited until the world leader moved her fingertips away and opened her eyes. She gasped again and took a slight step back, but Splinter smiled widely at her.

  “See?” I asked. “Everything will be fine.”

  Whether she believed it or was so freaked out by everything happening that she didn’t know what to do, Cabot nodded and continued to follow me. I got us through the maze, and when we stepped out and away from the shipping containers, Cabot drew a deep breath.

  “I didn’t think I’d ever get out of there,” she confided.

  Before I could say anything comforting or inspiring or any of the other things I would say if this was a movie of my life, my radio squawked. Cabot’s eyes snapped to me like she thought I emitted the sound. She looked visibly relieved when I showed her the simple and familiar device.

  “Slick? Are you there?” Ally said loudly through the radio.

  “I’m here.”

  “Where the living hell have you been?” she snapped.

  “So delightful to hear from you, too. I’m doing fine and freed Cabot safely, thank you for your concern.” I rolled my eyes and a series of clicks and white noise came through. “What?”

  “I’ve been trying to contact you for the last hour and a half,” Ally shouted.

  “I’m sorry. The reception must be bad here. And by here, I mean England.”

  “Slick, the summit is starting,” she told me.

  “Oh, shit,” I muttered.

  “What? What is it?” Cabot asked.

  “The summit is starting,” I told her, and her eyes went wide. I started walking again. “We’re hurrying back. Have the assistant ready.”

  “It’s too late.”

  My heart jumped into my throat. “What do you mean it’s too late?”

  “The Ambassador was texting the assistant non-stop. We couldn’t delay any longer.” She let out a shuddering breath.

  “What does that mean?” I demanded.

  Ally drew in another breath. “Archie had to go in your place.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Why, yes, I do love human foods. Particularly those I have to chew.”

  I shook my head and dropped my head into my hand.

  “Dear lord, Archie, stop talking,” I groaned.

  “He can’t,” Ally pointed out. “They keep talking to him.”

  She stared at the radio in disbelief. Archie’s voice coming through it had the same unnatural lilt as it did when he was trying to be human at the airport before our flight to London. This time, he didn’t seem able to regulate his volume. Not only was he saying inane things, but sometimes each word in a sentence got louder and higher until he was almost shouting, then they tumbled down to close to a whisper.

  We were all piled in the back of the van, cringing our way through the radio broadcast of the summit where Archie was doing his best human impersonation. Which meant it was a terrible human impersonation.

  “Yes, I often envision my life in five years. I believe I will solve world hunger and live among the goats.”

  I looked at Cabot, who hadn’t stopped staring at Pip. Her eyes moved along the lizard girl’s green, scaly face and down to her tail draped over the seat beside her. Sometimes her mouth moved like she was going to say something about it, but she hadn’t made any sounds yet. It was like the words formed themselves in her brain and made it to her mouth before she thought better of them and abandoned them.

  Every few seconds, Pip looked back at her and smiled. Lord love her, she had no idea she was freaking Cabot the freak out.

  “…only recently become familiar with profiteroles, I have not yet tried that variety. However, I can only assume they are as delicious as their vanilla and chocolate cream counterparts.”

  My attention snapped back to the radio, then to Ally.

  “What? What did he say?” I pointed at the radio. “What was that?”

  Ally shook her head. “Something about profiteroles.”

  “Is that a thing?” I asked.

  “No. No, it is not.” Her head didn’t stop shaking, but her eyes squinted smaller and smaller the more he spoke.

  “What was the question he was supposed to be answering?” I asked.

  “His feelings on nuclear proliferation,” Pip told me.

  “Oh, lord.”

  “I don’t even know what that is,” she commented.

  “Neither do I, but I’m sure it has nothing to do with cream puffs,” I told her.

  “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a question for you,” Archie’s voice said through the radio.

  “No. Oh, no, no, no.” I shook my head. “I mind. I mind. We all mind.”

  “The somewhat limited knowledge I possessed of London before I came here as assistant to the Ambassador involved the phrase ‘pip, pip, cheerio.’ I was under the impression that was the widely accepted ritual when parting. Now, I have since learned it has nothing to do with Pip as I know her…”

  “That’s me! He mentioned me!” Pip gushed, and Ally gestured for her to quiet down so we could hear the rest of the train wreck.

  “However, I’m still plagued by the qu
estion of the ‘cheerio’ portion. Was that inspired by the delightfully toasted oat breakfast cereal, or did the cereal come after?”

  My head dropped back, and I pressed my hand over my eyes.

  “This couldn’t get worse.” I moaned.

  “Well, no. Let’s not lose hope quite yet. I think Archie is holding his own. Possibly a little food-centric, but it’s a good time for a snack. Everybody else there is probably hungry, too. Stay positive.” Ally smiled at me, her eyes a little too wide.

  I thought she was potentially reaching a little too far with the positivity efforts. We were listening to Archie’s attempt at seeming human go rapidly downhill and there was nothing we could do about it. The least we could have done was give him more of a crash course in being human before we unleashed him on the world.

  “Why did you let him go?” I asked Ally.

  “He insisted. The Ambassador kept calling, and it was kind of tense in here. Archie said we were out of time and if we were going to do this, it needed to happen right then.”

  “But why didn’t you go? He could have as easily taught you how to use the rune and you could have gone in my place,” I suggested.

  Ally shrugged while slowly shaking her head. “He said it had to be him, in case something went wrong with the rune.” She looked back at the radio.

  “Damn him. At least you know how to sound like a human during an interview rather than rambling about the fine nuances of the various flavors of M&M colors,” I pointed out.

  “You should have let me go,” Cabot interjected. “None of you should be there. It should be up to me to fix this.”

  “What do you think you could have done?” Ally challenged.

  “I could have explained things,” Cabot told her. “If you let me go now, I can straighten all of this out and it doesn’t have to get any worse.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Absolutely not. That’s not an option.”

  “Why not? You said that at least Ally would have sounded like a human. That’s not exactly a resounding endorsement. If you let me go, I can explain things to these people in a way they’ll understand. I know what they’re talking about. I can smooth it all over.”

  “No,” I insisted. “You can’t.”

  “Why not?” she repeated.

  “No one would believe you,” Ally pointed out. “If you walked into that place and told them not to worry about the rambling man in the strange outfit, he’s only somebody derived from another realm who specializes in making objects that have magical powers so he doesn’t do the whole speaking human thing terribly well, they would take you down. They would lock you up in a matter of seconds. And if you shut Archie up and successfully explained that whole situation, what would you tell them next? That a Shapeshifter abducted you, then made itself look exactly like you so it could infiltrate the peace summit?”

  “I could start there,” Cabot offered.

  “And get tossed into a teeny little padded room where they stare at you through a small observation window in the door. It wouldn’t go over well. And if they believed any of that, why should they trust you?” I pressed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you tell them a creature capable of looking and sounding like you abducted you, why would they trust that you weren’t the Shapeshifter yourself? It could all be a ploy, pretending to be the real Senator while the one they’ve all been watching is the fake.”

  “But I am the real Senator, and the one they’ve all been watching really is the fake,” Cabot pointed out.

  “And how would they know that?” I prompted. “You could say that so they believe you and fall into complacency. Then you’d have them at your command and could continue with your devious plan.”

  Cabot paused for a few seconds.

  “What?” she finally asked.

  “Confusing, isn’t it?” I sympathized. “Of course, they’d think you were the Shapeshifter if you came out and said you were the real you. That’s exactly what the fake one would say.”

  “That’s what the fake one is saying!” she exclaimed.

  “That’s the point,” Ally reminded her. “You can’t simply walk in there with those people and try to explain it all away. They aren’t ready to hear that kind of truth. The reality we’re dealing with right now is that the Shapeshifter has all the power here.”

  “So, what are we going to do?” Cabot asked. “Because I can’t sit around here for much longer. There’s too much at stake.”

  “There’s only one play. We need to make a swap.” I glanced at Ally, then looked back at Cabot with a sigh. “I told you I’d keep you safe. But that might mean pushing you toward danger.”

  The Senator looked resolved, ready for whatever was coming her way next. She had already survived captivity. She was prepared to handle whatever else I had for her. Or at least try.

  “I don’t really understand what’s happening here, but if it means saving the world, then I’m in,” she agreed.

  “All right,” I told her. “Let’s do this.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Are you sure about this?” Cabot asked as we approached the building where the summit was taking place.

  The crowd of reporters and police created a thick wall of people around the building, all bustling and jostling around like none of them knew what was going on.

  “Absolutely not.” My steps didn’t falter, but Cabot stopped in her tracks, and I had to go back to get her.

  “Seriously?”

  “Oh, don’t be like that. It’s only a figure of speech.” Her expression didn’t change, so I looped an arm through hers to encourage her to come with me. “Come on. It will be fine.”

  I’d done my best to take as much of Ally’s optimism with me as I could when Cabot and I left the van. That’s pretty much all I had to go on at the moment. A hunch, having no real other option, and a lot of optimism. So far, it was working out for me. We’d only now gotten to the summit, but I would take it one step at a time.

  “What’s wrong?” Speaking of Ally, her voice came through the earpiece I wore under my hat. I pressed it deeper into my ear and tried to look inconspicuous.

  “Everything’s fine. We’re having a pep talk before we head inside.”

  “All right. Well, I’m here. Let me know if you have any trouble or need anything.”

  “Will do,” I confirmed.

  Cabot finally let me pull her into walking toward the building again.

  “You know these outfits won’t work.” She gestured at her clothes, then mine.

  “What are you talking about? We look fabulous.”

  She turned and glared at me through the black fascinator that came down over most of her face from the black velvet hat pinned to the top of her head with all her hair stuffed into it. My giant sunglasses and floppy red hat had a certain Carmen Sandiego vibe to them, but we went with classy for her.

  “I look like a woman at the Kentucky Derby celebrating getting her hands on her rich husband’s estate after she murdered him,” she described.

  I blinked a few times. “You go right to dark places, don’t you?”

  “After what I’ve been through, it’s kind of hard not to,” Cabot pointed out.

  I scoffed and shook my head, then pulled the collar of my trench coat up higher around my neck to conceal my face more.

  “Girl, let’s not play the ‘my captivity was worse than yours’ game. You won’t win. But I get it. Trust me, though. We can do this,” I encouraged.

  “Are you sure about it now?”

  “Still not one hundred percent. But I think that’s a good thing.” I nodded.

  “How do you figure?”

  “If you’re one hundred percent certain about something, you don’t really have any reason to work too hard for it. It’s already being handed to you, so there’s nothing to strive for. You go about your life, la-di-da, and wait for things to fall into place around you. Knock a few percentage points off that certainty factor, though, and
you start putting real effort into things. You don’t get complacent. Not knowing what will happen next keeps you on your toes.” I glanced at her and saw she didn’t look as concerned. She still was, but now slightly more confident.

  “All right. I’ll go with you on that one. You might be mostly full of shit, but at least you’re going somewhere with it.”

  “See? That’s the spirit,” I praised.

  “And when the dawn of the new era of peace is upon us, we will notice it, for we will no longer be sleeping. It won’t be night anymore. We’ll all be up.”

  Archie’s voice came through the headset, and I shook my head.

  “There he goes again.” I let my head fall back in exasperation.

  “Will he ever stop talking?” Cabot asked.

  “Not as long as people keep talking to him.” I lifted my head. “Archie isn’t good at acting like a human, but one thing he clings very hard to is social contracts. Or what he thinks are social contracts. Or what he thinks people think are social contracts. Essentially, if someone talks in his general direction, he’ll keep answering. Unless it’s one of us. He’ll ignore us with no problem.”

  “Well, that’s reassuring,” Cabot grumbled.

  “I blame the fact that he’s impersonating such a good-looking Russian,” Ally chimed in. “These Brits are fascinated by him. Maybe they’ll chock up his weirdness to translation errors?”

  I pressed the earpiece into my ear again and slightly tilted my mouth so I could respond. “There’s that positivity again. Is Dog doing ok?”

  “You have to start calling him something else,” she told me.

  A growl behind her was as good as him saying no.

  “I’ll take that as a yes, he’s fine.” I glanced at Cabot and nodded.

  “Yes, he is, and he and Pip are watching me quite closely. I feel like I might be the one they suspect of trying to take over the world.” She sounded distinctly displeased by this prospect.

  She was exaggerating. At least, I hoped she was. Ally was manning the comms during this mission, while Pip and Dog manned her. It was their job to make sure she was well-protected in case Hobbes had any more surreptitious goons lying around being sneaky.