Copper. Blood. That was the first thing Lydia smelled, filling up her nose and trickling down the back of her throat. She turned her head and spat on the ground, which was about all she could do. Her hands and feet were strapped in metal clamps, and she was lying on a freezing medical table.
She flexed her hands and wrists, straining at the metal. Without the braces, she felt every ounce of pressure and pain as she exerted herself. Her side split, reminding her of the bullet wound, and she bit down a cry.
Where was she? Where was everyone? Were they dead? The last thing she remembered was the Cave and Arthur. Arthur dying and Whyte kidnapping her. She looked up, her eyes slowly adjusting to the light. She was in some sort of sterile examination room. Or perhaps an operating room where surgeries were performed. Is that what was going to happen to her? Were they going to slice her open? Or torture her? Or worse? Was she going to die here? No, I have to get out of here! She lifted up and jerked against the restraints. I have to get out of here!
She stopped moving when she heard a whirring noise above her. Raising her head, she saw two guns, roof-mounted turrets, directed at her. She twisted her body to the side and they followed her. When she opened her hand, they snapped to the movement. She lay still, panting heavily, trying to think clearly how to break out with their monitoring her.
“Don’t wiggle too much,” Whyte said, entering and stopping short of the turrets’ view. “Move out of the designated area and they’ll shoot you.”
She snarled. “Where am I?”
He aimed a remote at the turrets, pressed a button, and they deactivated, hanging limp, as did the only security camera in the room. “In one of my facilities,” he said, coming closer. He tucked the remote away and exchanged it for a pistol, discouraging her from taking advantage of the brief security drop.
For now, there was no sense in her fighting, and she took a calming breath. “What do you want with me?” she asked, suppressing any fear in her voice.
“I think you know.” He pointed at her arm, where an IV tube was already inserted. “Only a matter of time until I have my own army of superstrong, invincible soldiers.”
“And then what? You’ll edge out your competitors?”
He laughed and shook his head. “No, no. Nothing so simple. That’s the problem with the BEP Division. You think too small and it makes you small.”
“They weren’t small enough for you,” she said. “Arthur told me all about how you wanted to join them, and you were too unstable for it.”
“No, I was too good for it,” he said, walking to her side and picking up the table’s remote. He held down a button, straightening the table so that she sat erect and at his level. “Arthur didn’t realize my potential. He wanted to lock me away in my small town and have me go back to my average home, with my average parents, to live out an average life in an average place until I died. I had tasted greatness and I refused to be denied it. Not when I deserved that.”
“You deserve the chair,” she said.
He drummed his fingers on the table and leaned against it. “Arthur did me a favor. I realized that instead of winning the BEP Division’s approval, I would craft my own empire. And I have, one I can align to my vision, one where people flock to join me. Going after your little division wasn’t anything personal. Yes, I did have to put on a show for Gary and all the rest, but it was all an act. The truth is more simple. The BEP Division interfered with my affairs. And that’s not good for business.”
“You kill people and fund terrorists.”
“And business is booming, no pun intended,” he said, enjoying his joke. “Cures and betterment for the world is all well and good. Helps win support, but it doesn’t pay the bills. And, let’s be honest: PMC work is essentially patch jobs, working for one country one day, and then their enemy the next. to keep the status quo so you always have business; it isn’t the most rewarding or satisfying of endeavors. So, Ms. Penner, what is there left for a man like me who’s already achieved so much? What more can this country offer me?”
“Extradition?”
“Nothing,” he said, correcting her. “At least, nothing on its own. But many countries together, or perhaps, all the countries…”
It was her turn to burst out laughing. “Are you seriously talking about what I think you are? Taking over the world?” She kept chuckling. “No, I know what we can offer you: a reality check, because you must think you’re a supervillain.”
He waited for her laughing to die out and offered a wry grin. “No, Ms. Penner. Not take over the world. Influence it. Work from behind the scenes. For its betterment, of course.”
“Of course,” she said, rolling her eyes. “How?”
“Why, thanks to you,” he said. “With this formula, I’ll have the ultimate unstoppable assassins and the best security forces the world can buy. If someone opposes my proposed ideas for improving the state of things, I’ll only need to send in one man or woman to silence them. If a politician who has hired my forces decides to adopt a policy I find foolish for that country, then it might be time for a new election. Or a coup. Whatever I wish.”
She glared at him. “You’re insane.”
“No, it’s good business sense. Why rule openly and earn ire and opposition when you can give people the illusion that they rule themselves? It’s all about offering the illusion of choice.”
“It won’t work,” she said. “Countries will stand up to you.”
“I’ve already convinced some to hire my forces to deal with terrorists or rogue BEPs,” he said. “And after today’s fiasco, I should think the United States will come around, seeing how ineffective their BEP Division was. I would think my new BEPs will more than match any that Arthur had. Not to mention that my base is still standing, whereas the Cave is, well,” he twirled his hand, “let’s say it’s like Arthur: gone.”
The Cave? Gone? “You’re lying.”
He shook his head. “Why lie? I’ve already won.” He grinned. “None of your friends or Arthur can help anymore. They’re all buried beneath that pile of rubble that used to be the Cave.”
She rattled the restraints, twisting her body and ripping off one holding down her ankle. “I’ll kill you!” she yelled at the top of her lungs and bared her teeth. “I will kill you!”
His pistol went off and she stopped. Bits of the ceiling crumbled onto her forehead from the small hole above. “Calm down or the next one goes into your leg.”
She leaned up, straining the restraints, and he shoved her down with the pistol. “For someone who can see the future, you have to know you’ll never get away with this. The government will come after you.”
His grin widened, as if she was missing a joke. He checked the room, ensuring that it was clear, and whispered close to her ear, out of any sight or hearing of anybody who may be attempting to eavesdrop. “Want to hear a secret?” She kept an eye on the gun, calculating if she could break one restraint and snatch it. “I actually can’t see the future.”
She turned to him, startled. “What?”
He tilted her head back so his lips tickled her ear. “See, I have hypersensory awareness. Far beyond any human level.”
“But Arthur—”
“I can almost ‘see’ any danger or what will happen next. Or I can anticipate a likely response through variations in body language, like how your fists and angry eyes scream to kill me.” He patted her hand. “It’s like I’m living in a multiverse of what the next seconds could be, what’s most likely to happen. Not too hard to fool most people. A handful have their doubts about the extent of my power, but they all believe I can at least predict my future. Not a bad way to keep people in line. Everything else, like my business sense, is just a sharp mind, knowing how to read people, and hard work.” His eyes flashed with maniacal glee. “If I can convince everyone I can see the future, how hard do you think it will be to manipulate people from the shadows? It’s all a matter of deception.”
Two questions presented themselves. Did this allow Lydia a chance
to beat him? Perhaps. From his description of his ability, it would be extremely difficult, but not impossible. The second was why would he tell her a big secret like that? Unless he planned to execute her soon.
He sensed her anxiety and squeezed her arm. “Now, now. Don’t get up. Rest while you still can.” He stepped out of range of the turrets, then activated them and the camera. and they all snapped to the ready.
“I will beat you,” she said.
He hummed to himself. “I suppose it goes without saying that you wouldn’t consider joining my little team? You would do well here.” She collected all the phlegm and spit she could muster and hocked the huge, slimy wad in his face. “Ah, there’s that Arthur spirit,” he said, disgusted and wiping the spit on his sleeve. “Good to see it lives on. Maybe it will in your blood, too.”
“He was better than you.”
He shrugged. “Too bad we’ll never know for sure. I did admire the man’s commitment to his cause, and he was a decent fighter. However, ordinary can’t beat extraordinary.”
She sat up as far as she could, ignoring the turrets’ warning clicks. “The only thing extraordinary about you is your ego,” she spat. “You’re like any other dime-a-dozen rogue BEP, and we’ll do the same to you as we did to them. Because you’re no better.”
His face hardened, and he spoke in an even tone, while holding the gun carefully at her heart. “No, I’m not better, Ms. Penner. I am the best. And soon, everyone will know that.” For a long moment, Lydia believed he would shoot her right there and then, but he holstered his pistol and swept out of the room, leaving her with the turrets. She lay down and stiffened her body, willing it not to shake, and turned from the camera, hiding the tears for those at the Cave.
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Rogues of Overwatch Page 75
