Rogues of Overwatch

by Dustin Martin

  Chapter 25- Mano a Mano

  Whyte cast down a rope for Arthur while everyone else was gathered at the front doors of the Center. The mercenaries crowded Lydia and the others into a tight bunch and disarmed them. They kept their hostages in a small circle and shoved their rifles into their faces. If Lydia punched the mercenary in front of her, two others would shoot her down. They blocked anyone’s escape into the Center, forming a solid line in front of the cut opening.

  At the Cave’s entrance, the tank, the functioning APC, and the Humvees sat, aiming in their general direction. They wouldn’t shoot. Not with Whyte and his forces so close. But if the hostages escaped, the turrets would tear them apart if they didn’t move fast.

  Lydia ran through all the abilities at their disposal. Her strength was out. Flying would make Aidan a clay pigeon for target practice. Ice? Not enough to handle all of them. Janice might be able to call some dogs, but it was a long shot. Donny could zap one, but it wouldn’t be enough. Ryan could steal a gun with his tongue, but what would one against thirty plus do?

  Arthur climbed the rope to the third floor. “Glad to see you’re still in good shape,” Whyte said, handing him over to Valerie and Roy. “How have things been since I left?”

  Invisibility. Lydia sought out Jando and found him in the crowd. She pushed her way to him and dragged him farther into the circle. Sylvia looked at them and started to move forward to the pair. One mercenary saw her and ordered her to stay put.

  Lydia brought Jando to the middle of the hostages. Then she lowered her head, pretending to adjust her shirt. “I have an idea.”

  Jando scratched his nose, covering his mouth. “Do tell.”

  “Can you make everyone here invisible?”

  He paused in thought. “Yeah, I can,” he said slowly. “But they would all have to be touching each other for it to spread.”

  “Not a problem.” With how packed in they were, everyone more or less touching one another already. “Can you do it quickly?”

  “I prefer to start off slow.” She frowned at his joke and he held up his hands. “Sorry. Yes, I can.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Hey, it’s me,” he said with a half grin, rubbing his hands together and reaching out for the two nearest elbows. Although this was asking him for a lot of energy and she knew it, she trusted his answer. “Let me know when.”

  “You’ll know.” She leaned into one guard’s ear and whispered, “Touch the people near you and be ready to fight. Pass it on.” He glanced at Jando and her and leaned into the next person’s ear.

  “Oh come, Arthur. Don’t give me the silent treatment. I came a long way to see you. The least you could do is say hello to your old pal, Simon.” Whyte waited and when Arthur said nothing, he clucked his tongue. “Don’t be a sore loser. You and I always knew I would come out on top.” He was enjoying this far too much. Arthur didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. “As much as I would like to continue this riveting conversation, we are on a schedule.”

  Whyte walked to the edge of the room and called to his people below. “Send up Lydia Penner.”

  A few mercenaries shoved through the group and grabbed Lydia by the arms. Her first instinct was to struggle, but the gun clicks ended that. They walked her to the rope, yet Whyte reeled it up before she could grab it. “I hear you’re quite the climber.” He looked to Emeryl. “So let’s see it,” he said, stepping back.

  Lydia latched onto the thick shutters covering the building and threw herself up to the next level. A couple of jumps later and she landed on the third floor. Instantly, Emeryl had his gun in her face, and it was only then that Lydia noticed the pistol had been fused to the skin of his damaged hand. She shivered to imagine the pain that must’ve caused. More mercenaries and Whyte’s BEPs trained their guns on her. Except Mark, who was curiously absent. Nearby, the snipers were listless and zoned out, with a glazed, gassed look in their eyes that seemed to be fading, while a mercenary had his rifle to the backs of their heads.

  “Whew, you’re like an animal scaling a tree,” Whyte said. He lifted her arm and she pulled away from him. “Ah, ah, ah.” A mercenary pressed a pistol to Arthur’s head. Reluctantly, Lydia handed her arms to Whyte, and he cradled the braces. “Exquisite craftsmanship. Brentle’s work, no doubt.”

  He ripped one brace off, pushed her to the ground, and then slipped off one on her legs. She kicked at him, but he dodged her feet and seized her throat. “You and Arthur really need to learn some manners. You should be kinder to guests. Especially when they can do this.” He pointed to the mercenary guarding the snipers, who shot one of the snipers point blank. The mercenary rolled the lifeless body out the window and a few people below screamed.

  Lydia snatched Whyte’s arm firmly. “What did I just say?” he said.

  “Lydia,” Arthur said, shaking his head, “don’t.”

  “Ah, he finally speaks.” Whyte pointed at the remaining sniper. “I’d listen to Arthur if I were you.” She dropped her hands and he released her, and then took off the remaining braces. She stood on her feet, her back to the wall.

  “I can see how you gave Rooke a hard time in Golden Springs,” Whyte said. “A shame we didn’t get to you first before Arthur did.”

  “Yeah, a shame,” she said.

  “No, I mean it.” Whyte held a hand to his heart. “I make a point to seek out BEPs like you. Special ones who can help the rest of the world, and I give them the means to do so. I employ BEPs who deserve better lives, not stuck here in an incompetent group.”

  “You wanted to join them.”

  “True, but I was young and naïve.”

  “And crazy,” she said. He flared his nostrils and sighed. “Why not blame the previous BEP Division’s leader? He’s the one who rejected you.”

  “Because this is far beyond some petty tests and rejection. I’ve moved onto better and more noble endeavors.” He picked up her braces and tossed them to Oliver. “I don’t believe you’ll be needing these.” Oliver piled them in a corner with some broken wooden furniture and set them on fire. Lydia’s spirits sank as Oliver heated them with blast after blast. Their predicament became bleaker by the minute.

  Whyte forgot Lydia for the moment and returned to Arthur. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this. How are we on time, Emeryl?”

  “A bit ahead, actually.”

  “Excellent. I have someone I’d like you to meet, Arthur. Someone who saw the light and realized the truth about your pitiful group. Much like I did.” Whyte threw open the door, and in walked Gary, wearing a smug grin and bandages on his broken fingers. “I promised him I would let him see you before you died.”

  Arthur’s jaw dropped to his knees and he blinked. “Gary?” He squinted. “Gary?”

  “That’s right,” Gary said. “Have to admit, I kind of expected you to figure it out a while ago. Shows how slow you are. You really ate up the whole Morella and Harper thing. Lucky me.”

  “Then they were innocent,” Arthur hung his head. “They all were.”

  “Yeah. Too bad you can’t apologize to them now.” Arthur growled and walked forward, but the mercenary behind him kicked the back of his knee, forcing him to the ground. “And I don’t need my power or Whyte’s to guess you’re going to ask…” Gary put on a sorrowful expression and his lip trembled. “‘W-W-Why?’ Well, I’ll tell you. I’m sick of you and this whole place. Day in, day out, all this ‘living with our ability’ crap.”

  “Gary, everyone can live with their ability. Including you,” Arthur said. “You know that. You do it all the time.”

  “‘I suffer through it,’ you mean. Living with our abilities is just an excuse to cover up how useless this facility really is. That you can’t help us at all and never will be able to.”

  “And really, how fair is that?” Whyte cut in, looking at everyone. “This is the help we’re supposed to rely on for ailments, for threats to our lives?” He rubbed Gary’s shoulder and embraced him. “You shouldn�
��t have to suffer, you shouldn’t have to live with this power if you don’t want it. No BEP should. The BEP Division would have you believe you must. However, they’re no closer to figuring out how to cure BEPs or stopping rogue BEPs than they are to, well, finding me.” He laughed in Arthur’s face. “I had to come to your doorstep before you actually accomplished that.”

  “That’s not true and you know it,” Arthur said. “We do our best to provide cures and living situations for all BEPs.”

  Lydia nodded at his statement and pointed at Whyte. “And to protect BEPs from people like you.” Arthur shot a small smile at her.

  “People like me?” Whyte asked.

  “Those out to hurt or use BEPs. That’s why we’re here: to stop you.”

  Whyte snorted. “Cute. Do any of you feel used?” he asked his people and they chuckled. “How do you like that? I’m offering you what you seek. I will give you all what you want.” He walked around the room, focusing on Lydia. “Let me explain something, Ms. Penner. We step up to the plate when the BEP Division can’t. Curing BEPs and giving BEPs what they want, and the BEP Division is trying to stop us from doing that. Our sole purpose is to create a better world, a safer world, one where BEPs seeking cures can be free of their hardships, and one where those who want to use their powers to make an actual difference can do so.” He knelt to Arthur’s level. “Misguided people like you, Arthur, those who would want to impede such a beautiful end, will be overcome, if not by me, then by those who follow in my footsteps.” He rounded to his people. “But I vow that I will clear the path for them to that great world.”

  “Hear, hear,” some of the mercenaries and Gary said.

  “No, we’re trying to assist BEPs to live with their ability any way we can,” Arthur said, glaring at Whyte. “And keep them from dangerous people who will kill them as soon as they’re of no use.”

  “I can’t live with this. I won’t live with this!” Gary’s fists shook. He was on a rampage now and his red face was bursting to let it all out. “Do you realize that this is the first time all day I’ve actually felt my own emotions? Not been forced to be like everyone else? I’m actually upset. Me. No one else. Me.”

  “We taught you how to control it,” Arthur said. He met Lydia’s eye as she shuffled toward the other sniper, inch by inch. The few guns supposed to be watching her were paying more attention to Whyte, Gary, and Arthur, as was everyone else. The mercenary holding the sniper at gunpoint had his focus split between his prisoner and the scene, too.

  “No, you taught me how you teach everyone else. To deal with it. Well, I’m going to deal with it. I’m going to get rid of it.” Gary swept an arm to Whyte. “All thanks to him. I wanted to run away and hide from all this once I was released. But he had a better idea. Why should I have to be scared and hide? He’ll find me a cure, unlike you, and all I had to do was come back and feed him some information. Honestly, it was a great bargain.”

  Lydia was next to the sniper, and she looked out the window. Below, Jando watched for her signal. She would have to wait for the opportune moment and be quick with whatever she did. The mercenary guarding the sniper had noticed her and was keeping a careful watch on her now.

  Arthur tried to get a word in edgewise, but Gary cut him off. “Save your speech. I will give you some credit. You did teach me to hide all emotions well. And thanks to my power, it was easy to deflect suspicion. Too easy, really, when you actually listen and sympathize with people. Not that you would know.” He circled him and jabbed a finger in his face. “All I had to do was lend an ear. In case you haven’t noticed, most people grin and bear their predicament. Ask Lydia.” She folded her hands behind her back, feigning innocence. Gary directed his question at her. “When you first came in, you hated your power.”

  “I don’t now.”

  “You wouldn’t rather be home, living a normal life?”

  “Of course I would,” she said. “But I’m fine here.”

  “No, I know better. Tell us the truth.”

  She sighed. “Fine, yes, it was hard at first, and I wanted to be home and live a normal life. But I’m needed here. My strength is a blessing and I’m fine bearing the difficulties of having it.” She spat at Whyte. “Because I am making a difference with my ability, especially if I can stop people like all of you. That will make this world safer. Everyone here believes that.”

  “No, they don’t,” Gary said. “Trust me, I feel for the people here.”

  “No pun intended,” Oliver quipped.

  Gary frowned at him. “I really do. They’re in a bad spot, and this is unfair to them to have to be told there is basically no hope. When you listen to people’s problems, they tell you things they shouldn’t, making digging up dirt a cinch.”

  Lydia jumped in. “Of course everyone is going to be upset at first. It’s a major change. Happens to everyone for major changes, abilities or not. But I’ve seen them. They make the best of things. Sure, there’s rough days, but everyone is happy with their ability. That’s because Arthur and the BEP Division care. They listen to us and help, Arthur as much as anyone. If they didn’t, then why would we fight you?”

  “Like I said: misguided,” Whyte said.

  “No, it’s because we believe in the BEP Division and what we’re fighting for. We don’t have to be paid like your scum here.” A few mercenaries grumbled, and their itchy trigger fingers twitched. “Our BEPs believe in their abilities, and they believe the only one impeding anything is you.”

  Gary shook his head. “Arthur is a fool. He only wants us to make the best of a bad situation.”

  “Only because we can’t remove your abilities,” Arthur said.

  “Can’t or won’t?” He studied Arthur. “Maybe you’re too incompetent. Maybe you want to keep BEPs here and force them to work for you.”

  “Same could be said for your boss,” Lydia pointed out.

  “Except he can find a cure. Why wouldn’t Arthur ask him for help? Too proud? Too arrogant?”

  Lydia glared at Whyte. “Or Whyte is too insane and bloodthirsty.” Then she returned to Gary. “Like you.”

  “Call us what you want. I’m a purveyor of power and appreciate your strength. I also respect your desire,” Whyte said. “At the same time, you’re speaking from the point of view of no chance for a cure. I can give one to you.” She gave him a skeptical look. “Don’t believe me? Ask Heather. She was more doubtful than you, yet she came around.”

  “You mean—?” she asked and Heather avoided her eyes.

  “Oh, didn’t you know that she was playing both sides?” Gary said. “She’s in it for one person only.” When she saw the regret in Heather’s eyes, Lydia knew it to be true. She couldn’t believe she had trusted Heather enough to cooperate with her.

  The fury and disgust in her throat boiled over as Gary patted her back, reminding her of his betrayal, too. “Don’t blame Heather for it. Wait, actually, no, blame her for all of it.” He laughed with Oliver. “Oh, don’t be upset. You wouldn’t have figured it out. After all, you fell for so much. The sleight of hand with the pill and slipping Heather the handcuff key? Child’s play.” The “accidental” pill mix-up this morning popped up in Lydia’s mind, and she berated herself. “Or even,” he said, raising his arms, shielding himself, “‘No, please!’” He smiled between his elbows and stomped to Arthur, grabbing him by his collar. “No more letting others dictate my feelings. I’m going to be the one in charge of my emotions. Not you. Not anyone else.”

  Gary punched Arthur, knocking him over. Then he kicked him in the stomach. Once, twice. “How about I influence you? Huh?” He struck the top of his head. “Can you tell I’m mad?” Another kick. “Do you feel my anger? Do you?”

  Whyte caught Gary’s hand and pulled him back. “That’s enough. I want this to be fair.” Gary yanked his arm away and stood by the wall. Valerie and Roy lifted Arthur. He was mostly unfazed. He winced when Whyte grabbed him firmly by the cheeks and checked him. “You really don’t have the best luck wi
th past BEPs, eh? It’s like a lethal version of ‘This is Your Life.’”

  “Just do whatever you want to me. Let everyone else go,” Arthur said.

  “I will do what I want to you,” Whyte said. “As for everyone else, that will depend if they want to join me. I’m always hiring. But we’ve wasted enough time.” He removed his coat and rolled up the cuffs of his sleeves. “I would offer peace here and let bygones be bygones, but I know you won’t take it. Perhaps your successor, uh,” he looked to Gary for the name.

  “Sylvia.”

  “Sylvia, yes,” he said. “Maybe she’ll be more open to it. A chance to work together. There’s no need to be jealous and competitive of us. I know you people do a good job of rounding up the local thug or two. The BEP Division can have that. We’ll deal with the bigger, more global issues. Besides,” he said, nodding to Valerie and Roy, who released Arthur, and Valerie shoved him forward, “I told you I’ve been waiting for this. End it all here. You and me, mano a mano, to the death. Winner take all.”

  Arthur drew himself up. “Only if you let everyone go.”

  “You’re in no position to negotiate,” Whyte said. “I can’t tell you how often I’ve dreamed of this. You’re going to fight me. Even if I have to start killing all your people one by one.” He snapped his fingers, and the mercenary guarding the sniper leveled his rifle against the sniper’s head.

  Arthur sighed. “Fine.” He held up his weary arms and turned his body sideways.

  “Try to have some more enthusiasm,” Whyte said, cracking the joints in his neck. “Fine. Tell you what. I’m a man of my word.” He paused for a moment as he turned his head the other way, snapping more joints. “If you win—unlikely—my people will allow all of you to leave without so much as a scratch. So fight like you mean it. Everyone’s lives hang—”

  Suddenly, Arthur swung and Whyte dodged. “That’s the spirit!” Whyte said. He delivered a high kick that Arthur blocked. Arthur went on the offensive, jabbing and kicking low at Whyte’s shins. He backed Whyte around the room and to the open window. He moved incredibly fast, faster than Lydia had ever seen in training.

  But for all his speed and sharp blows, Whyte countered each one. Lydia realized he was toying with Arthur, enjoying the fight. Through the flying arms and legs, Whyte was smiling, on the verge of laughing like a child at play. He predicted every attack and stayed on the defensive, wearing Arthur down. He was going to win and slaughter everyone in the Cave. She caught Heather’s eyes, which echoed her thoughts loud and clear: What are you going to do?

  When Whyte was against the open window, Arthur pressed his attack, going for the legs and chest. Anything to push Whyte out. Whyte caught Arthur’s fists in his hands, twisted his arms, and stomped at his feet. Arthur jumped aside, but Whyte kept a firm hold on his hands. The entire room was caught up in the fight, with no one daring to interrupt.

  They needed a distraction. Maybe Lydia could throw Whyte off with something unpredictable. Off the top of her head. She yelled to Heather, far in the corner. “Heather, I should’ve killed you when I had the chance!”

  That distracted Whyte, Heather, and a few others. She followed up the sudden outburst by grabbing the mercenary holding the sniper at gunpoint and throwing him toward the fighters. Whyte let go of one of Arthur’s hands and slapped the mercenary aside and out the window. It was enough for Arthur to land a solid punch to his jaw. Whyte held his chin, testing its hinges. “Not bad.”

  Below, several people screamed, followed by barking commands and gunfire. Jando had moved, and a large fight had broken out at the bottom. Stray bullets raced up the side of the building, nearly hitting Whyte and Arthur. They leapt away from one another and fell to the floor.

  “Pass me a gun!” Whyte said. Valerie threw him a pistol, and he took potshots at the people on the ground.

  Another round of automatic gunfire kept them prone. Lydia beckoned the sniper to follow her. They crouched and rolled over to Arthur. The fighting outside grew more intense and didn’t stop. But all too soon, she knew Whyte would attack again.

  Arthur pointed at the rope he had climbed up. It was still attached to a ring jammed into the floor. She passed him the rope and he flung it out the window. They each took hold of the rope. Lydia gripped it tight until her knuckles were white.

  Suddenly, Heather caught onto them and latched onto the sniper’s leg, tearing at his sock and shoe. He kicked her and Lydia pried Heather’s fingers off, throwing her backward. By then, Whyte noticed them and aimed. “No, you don’t!” The trio jumped out the window, one hand on the rope, and missed his shots. The friction burned Lydia’s palm, and she stopped herself at the second floor.

  Beneath their feet, the mercenaries scrambled into cover. Several lay dead or dying, and others were missing their weapons. In the parking lot, the BEP forces fired from behind cars and loaded into the vehicles left behind. The sniper slid and fell flat on his back on the ground, and then raced for a vehicle. Sylvia hollered to the pair left dangling on the rope.

  A force jerked Lydia and Arthur up a few inches. Then more and more. They were being hoisted up. Lydia and Arthur slid down, but already, the rope was several feet off the ground. Everyone on the third floor must be dragging them up.

  In the distance, the vehicles Whyte had brought fired on Sylvia’s group. The tank locked its cannon sights on the building. Right on Lydia and Arthur. “Oh, come on!” Lydia said. It belched a shot with a deep boom.

  She propped her feet against the shutters and Arthur did the same. It was a small chance, but it was all they had. She kicked off as hard as she could at an angle. They swung wildly to the right, twirling like dancers in the air. The wall exploded with a tremendous force, throwing them farther to the side as glass, metal, and shattered stone burst outward.

  When they fell back to the front, a wide hole stared back at them. Smoke curled out of the fire-ringed gaping hole, and bits of rubble crumbled off the edge. It was then that Lydia realized that she couldn’t hear any guns or crackling fire. In fact, she couldn’t hear anything besides a muted shrill whine. She dug into her ears, trying in vain to get some sense of hearing back.

  Sylvia’s group continued firing on the mercenaries, and she frantically gestured to them. However, the mercenaries were now firing on Lydia and Arthur. A bullet went in and out of Lydia’s ribs and she cried out, unable to hear herself. Above, the rope end shook and shuddered. Whyte flung his arms up above, his face red and livid. He had a radio in hand and yelled pointedly at the mercenaries, and then at the tank, supposedly lambasting them for nearly killing his prizes.

  Lydia grabbed Arthur around his waist and swung on the rope. When they were near enough to the hole, she jumped in with him. After she landed, she collapsed, rolling on her back and holding her side. She could hardly see the wound, and the heat and foul air did it no favors. In a daze, she made the mistake of standing up in a cloud of smoke. It burned her nostrils and chest, and she hacked up the air immediately. Arthur helped her crawl beneath the smoke and to the end of the hallway, where the air cleared at a fork, with a single working red emergency light remaining. They stopped for a moment to catch their breath as the air baked their skin. Lydia prayed desperately while they brainstormed a plan of escape.

  * * *