Firefight

by Brandon Sanderson

  Everyone else seemed to be having a great deal of fun. For me, it was stressful. I wanted to do it right and not give away that I’d never done this before. Lulu was attractive: warm face, great hair, curvaceous in all the right places. She wasn’t Megan, not by a long shot, but she was here. And close. Should I talk to her? Tell her she was pretty?

  I opened my mouth to say something, but the comment died on my lips. I found, in that moment, that I really didn’t want to talk to another girl. It was stupid—Megan was an Epic. The entire time she’d been with the Reckoners, she’d probably been acting. Stringing us all along. I didn’t even really know her.

  But there was still a chance she’d been genuine, right?

  I doubted Lulu carried grenades in her bra, ample though it was. She wouldn’t know guns like Megan had. Lulu wasn’t tough enough to bring down Epics, and that smile of hers was way too inviting. Megan had been tough to crack, tough to make smile. That, in turn, made it all worthwhile when she did smile.

  Stop it, I thought at myself. Prof is right. You need to get Megan out of your head. Enjoy what you have right now.

  A guy nearby suddenly grabbed Lulu by the arm and whipped her in his direction. She laughed as the crowd churned to the demanding music. Just like that, she was gone.

  I stopped in place. Searching through the throng of half-glowing figures, I finally found Lulu again. She was dancing with someone else. Sparks. Did she expect me to follow? Was this a test of some sort? Or was it a rejection? Why didn’t school at the Factory involve important lessons, like how to deal with a party?

  As I stood there, feeling stupid to be alone amid the dancing, I spotted something else. A face I thought I recognized. An Asian woman, punk clothing, like from the old days. And … It was Newton. Leader of the gangs of Babilar. Epic. She stood to the side of the dance floor, next to a table heaped with fruit that lit her face.

  Oh, thank you, I thought, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief. Dancing was stressful—but murderous demigods, those I could deal with.

  Hand in my pocket on the gun, I moved through the crowd to get a better look.

  20

  I quickly dredged from my memory everything I knew about Newton. Force redirection, I thought. That’s her main power. Slap Newton, and none of the energy would transfer to her—it would all reflect back at you. She could also move inhumanly fast. I’d had some things in my notes about her background and family, but I couldn’t remember them. I briefly considered calling Tia, but with the music blaring I wasn’t sure if she’d be able to hear me—or me her.

  Newton began walking around the perimeter of the dancing area, moving with an unhurried gait. No super speed for the moment. I kept pace, pushing through the press of bodies and reaching a place where the crowd was less dense.

  Newton walked like someone who knew she had the biggest gun in the room—confident, unconcerned. She didn’t wear a single bit of spraypaint on her otherwise garish clothing: leather jacket, enormous cross-shaped earrings, piercings in her nose and lip. Short purple hair. She looked like she was about eighteen, but I thought I remembered something about her age being deceptive.

  She could kill everyone at this party, I thought with a chill. No consequences. Nobody would even question her. She’s an Epic. It’s her right.

  What was she doing here? Why was she just walking and watching? Of course, I didn’t mind that she wasn’t engaging in wholesale slaughter—but she had to have some kind of agenda. I pulled out my new mobile, the one Mizzy had given me. I thought she’d said …

  Yes, she’d loaded it with photos of all known members of Newton’s gang. A few of those were minor Epics, and I wanted to be prepared. I shuffled through the photos quickly while keeping one eye on Newton. Was any of the rest of her team here?

  I didn’t spot any of them. Did that make her more or less likely to be up to something? I moved to get closer, but a hand caught me by the shoulder.

  “David?” Mizzy asked. “Sparks, what are you doing?”

  I lowered my mobile and turned, twisting Mizzy away in case Newton glanced in our direction. “Epic,” I said. “Just ahead.”

  “Yeah, that’s Newton,” Mizzy said. “Why are you following her? Do you have a death wish?”

  “Why’s she here?” I asked, leaning down to hear Mizzy.

  “It’s a party.”

  “I know it is. But why is she here?”

  “Uhhhh. For the party.”

  I paused. Epics went to parties?

  I knew, logically, that sometimes Epics interacted with their lessers. In Newcago, Steelheart’s favored had served, worked for, and even—in the case of the attractive ones—dated Epics. I just hadn’t expected someone like Newton to be … hanging out. Epics were monsters. Killing machines.

  No, I thought, watching Newton as she moved to the drink counter—where she was immediately served. Creatures like Obliteration are killing machines. Other Epics are different. Steelheart had wanted a city to rule, with subjects to worship him. Nightwielder had gone to meet with arms dealers, bringing assistants with him. Many Epics behaved like ordinary people, save for their absolute lack of morals.

  Those types killed not because they enjoyed it, but because they got annoyed. Or, like Deathpoint—the Epic who had attacked the bank the day my father died—they killed because they figured it was just plain easier than the alternatives.

  Newton got her drink, then leaned back against the bar, watching the crowd. Her gaze passed by Mizzy and me, not lingering. Either Regalia hadn’t described us to Newton, or she didn’t care that the Reckoners were at the party.

  The Babilarans made way for her and averted their eyes when she looked in their direction. They didn’t bow or give any obvious signs of subservience, but they clearly knew who she was. This was a lion among the gazelles; the lion just wasn’t hungry right now.

  “Come on,” Mizzy said, steering me back toward the dancing.

  “What do you know about her?” I asked. “Her background, I mean. Who she was before Calamity.” Fortunately, the current song was a little less overbearing than the previous ones, with a slower beat and not as much noise.

  “Yunmi Park,” Mizzy said. “That’s her real name. Long ago, before all this happened, she was your run-of-the-mill black sheep. A juvenile delinquent born to successful parents who didn’t know what to do about her.”

  “So she was evil even then?” I asked.

  Mizzy started dancing—not as frantically or as, um, invitingly as Lulu had. Just some simple motions. The dancing was probably a good idea, as we didn’t want to stand out. I followed suit.

  “Yeaaaah,” Mizzy said. “Definitely evil. She’d committed murder, so when Calamity arrived, she was already in juvie. Then bam. Super powers. Must have sucked to be the guards at that detention center that day, I tell you. But why does it matter what she was like?”

  “I want to know what percentage of Epics were evil before they got their powers,” I said. “I’m also trying to tie their weaknesses to events in their past.”

  “Hasn’t anyone tried that before?”

  “A lot of people have,” I said. “But most of them didn’t have the level of research I’ve been able to gather, or the access to Epics that being in the Reckoners has given me. The connection, if there is one, isn’t obvious—but I think it’s there. I just have to find the right slant on it.…”

  We danced for a few minutes. I could handle this dance. Less flailing was involved.

  “What was it like?” Mizzy asked. “Killing Steelheart.”

  “Well, we set up in Soldier Field,” I said. “We hadn’t quite figured out his weakness yet, but we had to try anyway. So we made a perimeter, and—”

  “No,” Mizzy said. “What did it feel like to kill him? You know, inside of you. What was it like?”

  “Is this pertinent to our current job somehow?” I asked, frowning.

  Mizzy blushed and turned away. “Whoops. Personal information. Gotcha.”

 
I hadn’t intended to embarrass her; I’d just assumed I was missing something. I’d been too focused on the job at hand rather than on things like small talk and interpersonal interaction.

  “It was awesome,” I said softly.

  Mizzy glanced back at me.

  “I’d always heard that revenge doesn’t pay off,” I continued. “That when you finally got what you’d been hunting, you’d find the experience unsatisfying and depressing. That’s a sparking load of stupidity. Killing that monster felt great, Mizzy. I avenged my father and liberated Newcago. I’ve never felt so good.”

  Mizzy nodded.

  Now, what I didn’t say was that killing Steelheart had left me wondering what to do next. The sudden and abrupt removal of my all-consuming goal … well, it was like I was a donut, and somebody had sucked all the jelly out of me. But I could stuff new jelly in there. It would just get my hands a little sticky in the process.

  I’d moved on to killing other Epics, like Mitosis and Sourcefield. Which had its own problems. I’d interacted with Epics, even fallen for one. I couldn’t see them uniformly as monsters any longer.

  That look in Sourcefield’s eyes as I shot her still haunted me. She’d looked so normal, so frightened.

  “You take this all really seriously, don’t you?” Mizzy asked.

  “Don’t we all?”

  “Yeaaaah, you’re a little different.” She smiled. “I like it, though. You’re what a Reckoner should be.”

  Unlike me, that line seemed to imply.

  “I’m glad you have a life, Mizzy,” I said. I gestured toward the party. “I’m glad you have friends. You don’t want to be like me. Parties, real life … these are why we’re fighting, in a way. To bring that world back.”

  “Even though Babilar is fake, like you think?” Mizzy said. “That this city, and everything in it, is a front for some plan Regalia is concocting?”

  “Even then,” I said.

  Mizzy smiled, still shifting back and forth to the beat. She was cute. Not like Lulu at all, who was demandingly attractive. Mizzy was just … nice to be around. Earnest, amusing. Real.

  I’d stayed away from people like her my entire life. I hadn’t wanted attachments, or so I’d told myself. Really, I’d been so focused that I’d kind of weirded everyone out. But Mizzy … she considered me a hero.

  I could grow to enjoy this sort of thing. I wasn’t interested in Mizzy—not that way, and particularly not with Megan on my mind—but friendship with some people my age was something I did find myself longing to have.

  Mizzy seemed distracted by something. Perhaps she was thinking along similar lines. Or—

  “I need to be more like you,” she said. “I’m too trusting.”

  “I like you how you are.”

  “No,” Mizzy said. “The person I am hasn’t ever even killed an Epic. This time it’s going to be different. I’m going to do what you did. I’m going to find that monster.”

  “That monster?” I said.

  “Firefight,” Mizzy said. “The one who killed Sam.”

  Oh.

  Megan was far from a monster, but I couldn’t explain that to Mizzy, not until I had proof of some sort.

  For now, I changed the topic. “So, what did you find out from your friends? We’re here for intel, right? Any clues that could lead us to … what we’re looking for?” I didn’t want to say it out loud, even though with the music—and with no water exposed to the air directly nearby—it was unlikely Regalia would be spying on us.

  “I’m still looking, but I did find one interesting tidbit. Looks like Regalia has been bringing in scientists.”

  “Scientists?” I frowned.

  “Yeah,” Mizzy said. “Smart types of all kinds, apparently. Marco heard that a surgeon from Great Falls—one of Revokation’s personal staff—relocated here. It’s odd, as we don’t have a lot of trained professionals in town. Babilar tends to attract people who like free food and fatalism, not scholars.”

  Huh. “See if any other professionals have come to town lately. Accountants. Military experts.”

  “Why?”

  “Just a hunch,” I said.

  “Right. I’ll get back to gathering intel.” Mizzy hesitated. “Everything really is all about work for you, isn’t it?”

  Not by a mile. But I nodded anyway.

  “I am going to find the Epic who murdered Sam,” Mizzy said. “Then I’m going to kill her.”

  Sparks. I needed to clear Megan’s name, and quickly. Mizzy nodded to herself, looking resolute as she stepped out of the dancing area.

  I went and checked on Newton as surreptitiously as I could. The Epic still lounged by the bar, sipping her drink, standing out like a punk guitarist in a mariachi band. Farther down the improvised bar—it was mostly made of old wooden boxes—Exel chatted with a group of women. They laughed at something he said, and the whole crowd of them looked sincerely interested in him.

  Sparks. Exel was a ladies’ man? And at least he was sticking to the plan. I toyed with the idea of looking for Lulu so I could ask her if she’d ever seen Regalia. Instead I found myself walking to the bridge at the edge of the building, then out into the night, wanting to be alone with my thoughts for a while.

  21

  BABILAR was starting to grow on me.

  True, all the color was garish, but I couldn’t help but admire it just a little, particularly in contrast to the desolation between here and Newcago. Every glowing line coloring the walls and roofs here was a mark of humanity. A mixture of primitive cave paintings and modern technology, sprayed out of a can and humming with life all around me.

  I walked down a bridge—different from the one we’d come in on. It led me to a quiet rooftop, with only a few deserted-looking tents and shanties. People preferred the roofs closer to the water level, it seemed. This one was a little too high.

  I wasn’t certain why more people didn’t live inside the buildings. Wouldn’t that be safer? Of course, the insides of the buildings were jungles—humid, shadowy, and obviously unnatural. Perhaps the rooftops were just something the people could claim.

  I strolled for a time. Maybe I should have been worried about the danger, but sparks, Regalia had held us all in her grip—then let us go. This wasn’t like Newcago, where Steelheart would have killed us in an eyeblink if he’d been able to find us. This was complicated. This was Epics and people living in a bizarre ecosystem, where the humans accepted that they might die at any moment—but still threw parties. Parties the Epics themselves might decide to visit.

  Newcago had made far more sense. Steelheart at the top, lesser Epics beneath him, the favored serving them. The rest of us hiding in the corners. What sense did this city make?

  Regalia has leashed the city’s gangs, I thought. And she’s somehow been gaining the loyalty of powerful Epics. She lets the common people have all the food they want, and has now attracted at least one highly trained specialist.

  That all spoke of someone who was planning to do what Steelheart had in creating a powerful city-state. Regalia made the place inviting to bring people in from outside, then she gained the loyalty of several Epics to use in building an aristocracy. But if that was the case, why unleash Obliteration? Why would she build a city like this—imposing law, working for peace—only to destroy it? It made no sense.

  Footsteps.

  Growing up in the understreets of Newcago taught you a few things. The first was to jump the moment you thought someone was sneaking up on you. If you were lucky, it was just a mugger. If you were unlucky, you were dead.

  I backed up against the side of a wooden shanty, crouching down and staying out of sight. Blue paint glowed out from behind me. Idiot, I thought. This isn’t Newcago. It’s normal for people to wander around here. There was probably no need to have hidden so quickly. I peeked up.

  And found Newton crossing the rooftop at a prowl. She passed by in near silence, her figure dark against the spraypainted ground. She didn’t seem to have spotted me.


  I ducked back down, sweating. Where was she going? I hesitated briefly, considering my options, and then peeked out to watch her cross the roof.

  Then I followed her.

  This is stupid, a part of me thought. I had no preparation, no plan to negate her powers. She was a High Epic—her powers actively protected her from harm. If my surveillance went poorly, I wouldn’t be able to simply shoot her, as my bullets would bounce back at me.

  But she was involved with Regalia directly. Whatever was really going on in this city, Newton would be part of it, and watching her might give me important information. I moved in a crouch, taking cover behind old shanties as I tailed her. When I had to cross out into the open I did so quickly, and only once Newton had gotten far enough ahead. The buildings in this stretch were all about the same height and had been built very close together; you didn’t even need bridges to cross from one to the other, though ramps did connect some where the height difference was larger than a few feet.

  I kept pace with her, and in so doing passed a few people lounging against the side of the otherwise-deserted building. Their clothing glowed with green paint, and they gave me a strange look before glancing toward Newton.

  Then they scrambled to hide. Sparks. I was glad they had some sense to them, but I didn’t want their sudden motion to startle her. I hid beside a fallen wall.

  Newton turned toward a long rope bridge. Sparks, that would be difficult to cross inconspicuously. How would I follow? Instead of crossing the bridge, however, Newton hopped off the side of the building. I frowned, then took a deep breath and snuck up to the edge of the roof. A small balcony rested below, with an open doorway leading into the building itself.

  Right. Inside the building. Where my visibility would be limited, and I might stumble into a trap. Of course. I swung over the side and carefully climbed down to the balcony, then peeked in through the doorway.