The Enhanced Series Box Set

by T. C. Edge

  Still, even a small amount is enough to rev Tess’s engine, the drink taking its toll as our party is interrupted by one final guest.

  Zander.

  He appears through the door and comes straight for me, and I leap straight up to my feet and suck him into a tight hug. Tess, sitting opposite me, looks at him in half a daze, gazing straight into his eyes.

  He smiles a dazzling grin and looks over the table.

  “Looks like you’re all having a good time.”

  His eyes drop to Mrs Carmichael.

  “Mrs C, so nice to see you again. I’m so happy you’re here.”

  Quite out of character, Mrs Carmichael also climbs, a little drunkenly, to her feet and drags him into an awkward and rushed embrace.

  “My boy, thank you, thank you,” she mutters.

  “Um, you’re welcome…” says Zander, frowning and grinning over her shoulder at me.

  “For what you did in her office,” I whisper to him.

  I suppose that’s what she’s referring to.

  Turns out, I’m right. When she lets him go, she smiles up into his bright hazel eyes and says: “Beautiful boy, just beautiful.”

  She’s a little incoherent, the effects of the alcohol now starting to take their toll.

  “OK, Brenda, that’ll do.” I step in and place her back in her seat, before pouring her a glass of water.

  Then I notice Tess, still staring - well, gazing, actually - at my brother.

  “I think you’ve got an admirer,” I say, rather loudly and in a bid to snap Tess out of it.

  She comes to, and dips her eyes quickly in embarrassment. Zander wanders around the table.

  “How’s the stomach,” he asks softly.

  Her eyes lift slowly. It’s really not like her to be this coy.

  “It’s perfect,” she says dreamily.

  Zander laughs.

  “Hmmmm, a perfect stab wound. Didn’t think there was such a thing.”

  “No, no, I mean…it’s good. It’s healing.”

  “I know what you meant,” grins my twin. “So, you all having a nice time being back together?”

  It seems quite unfair to say ‘yes’ given those we’ve lost, and everyone else besides. I mean, literally outside the door there’s a giant pile of collapsed building, and heaven knows how many bodies still trapped inside.

  Still, this is our moment to enjoy. We can’t always be burdened by all the awful things in this world. We have to snap up these opportunities when they come.

  So, both Tess and I nod and smile, and Mrs Carmichael looks over her family with a glint in her eyes. It’s all we need to say.

  Zander joins us for a little bit, first pulling up a chair and sitting next to Tess. I watch them talk and smile to each other, Zander doing most of the talking and Tess most of the smiling.

  In the meantime, as Mrs C, as my brother called her, gulps down some water so that she feels better about having more whiskey, Abby appears from the other end of the table – where she’d retreated to as I spoke with Brenda and Tess – and tugs once more at my shirt to get my attention.

  I look down through tired eyes and see hers, bright and blue, staring up at me. In her hands, I see that pink backpack again.

  “What’s in the bag, Abs?” I ask.

  It’s as though she was hoping for the question. Her face lurches into a smile and she places the bag on her lap, opens the zip, and starts fiddling around for something inside.

  Then, she draws out a ring-binder, the front of it a pinky-purple and stamped with colourful letters and stars and the sort of crazy doodling you’d expect from a girl of her single-figure age.

  It takes a moment for the letters to form into words, Abby holding the thing up to me with her nose and eyes hovering above.

  I read it out loud.

  “The Adventures of Queen-Brie and Abtastic…”

  A huge smile swirls into position on both of our faces, and she stretches out her arms and hands me the binder.

  “It’s my comic!” she says. “You wanna see?”

  She shuffles closer to me as I say: “Do I! I can’t wait!”

  Laying my arm over her narrow shoulders, I sit the comic on my lap and open the first page. I see a picture of two of us standing there, side by side, me with my dark hair and her with her blonde, and our hazel and blue eyes bright and colourful.

  We’re both adopting heroic poses, arms on hips and with capes billowing in the wind, dressed in multi-coloured spandex and with our superhero logos emblazoned on our chests and a plethora of weapons hanging across our belts and fixed to our backs.

  “Do you like it?” she asks.

  “It’s sooo cool, Abs. I love it!”

  She beams again.

  We begin turning the pages, stopping on each as I read the story and look at the attached drawings. All the while she explains what I’m looking at, giving more backstory, explaining her method and what each of the weapons or enemies we’re facing are.

  She’s taken inspiration from the comics she loves, but also from the real world we inhabit. I see soldiers dressed as the City Guard, some of them massive like Brutes, others with dazzling eyes like Hawks or big noses or ears to indicate they’re Sniffers and Bats.

  I see others, too, mixtures of them all, just like hybrids, and characters completely drawn from the little girl’s wild imagination. Some, it seems are friends of our little superheroic duo. Others – in fact most others – are enemies, cannon fodder for us to cut down.

  I look through it all and think of how real some of this is now. When I see a drawing of my character, Queen-Brie, cutting through a bunch of empty eyed enemies, I can only think of the Con-Cops I’ve killed. When I see me fighting a large, black-cloaked spectre, I think only of the Stalkers I’ve met and still worry about having to fight.

  There’s a prescience to it that Abby can never have known about or expected. She looks from my face to the comic, back and forth as she flips the pages, expecting me to smile each time and tell her how great it is.

  I do, of course, and it really is. The girl has talent that I never knew about, talent that, unfortunately, will be wasted in a city like this, at a time like this.

  But still, I can’t help but think of the reality of it all as I sit there, struggling with each new turn of the page, each new drawing of me slaughtering my foes, to raise that smile.

  It’s a person that, perhaps, I really am becoming. A killer, a soldier, maybe even a hero.

  But whatever you call it, it’s something that doesn’t sit light on my shoulders. It’s a burden I never wished for or desired.

  When we’re done, Abby shuts the book and looks upon me again.

  “I can’t believe you’re real,” she says.

  “How do you mean, Abs? Of course I’m real?”

  “No…no, I don’t mean Brie, normal Brie. I mean Queen-Brie!” she says. “I saw you today. You’re my hero. I want to be just like you when I grow up.”

  Her arms wrap around me again, her head nuzzling against my side. And as she squeezes tight, I whisper to myself: “No, Abs…you really don’t.”

  189

  I end the evening with my brother.

  Before she gets too drunk, Mrs Carmichael calls it a day and leads the kids back to Compton’s Hall. Tess, while she’d prefer to stay, is forced to go with her, begrudgingly tearing her eyes from Zander as she leaves the room.

  I’m left with only my twin, who quickly updates me on his day before hearing of my own.

  His sounds fairly uneventful by comparison, his primary job now involving security. For the most part, he spent the day making sure the perimeter is well protected, and scouring the streets for any potential troublemakers.

  Having taken Inner Haven, now it’s all about occupation and consolidation, rather than invasion.

  “Sounds like you had a rough one, though, sis,” he says once I’ve completed my tale. “Sorry about Nate. He seemed a good kid.”

  “He was.”

&n
bsp; I don’t say anything more than that.

  “Well, we’re safe here now,” he says. “The new discussion is what to do with our people out in the mines.”

  I widen my stare, despite my fatigue.

  “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about bringing them back?”

  The idea makes me exhausted just thinking about it. We only got them out there a few days ago. Surely there’s no need to bring them back already?

  I’m schooled, as I am so often, by my ‘big’ brother.

  “The risk,” he says, “is that Cromwell will find out about them and hunt them down. He’s suffered a pretty serious blow. He might want to wreak some revenge.”

  “But he doesn’t know where they are, does he?”

  Zander’s lack of immediate response is telling. Then, before he answers, I draw my own conclusion.

  “Rafe,” I say. “He’ll have known about the mines, and what the plan was. So, Woolf will too. And, assuming she’s with Cromwell, then…”

  “Bingo,” pings Zander’s voice. “If he can’t get to us here, he might just send a bunch of Stalkers out there. It’s a very real risk.”

  A rumbling, exhale of stress-filled air blasts from my lungs.

  “So…what? You’re bringing them back again?”

  “That’s being decided. We’ve got a bunch of hybrids and soldiers there, as you know. But they’ll be no match for Cromwell if he sends some of his better agents.”

  “And they’re no match for the wild anyway,” I add. “I mean, jeez Zander, we lost about, I don’t know, fifty people on our first go…and that was without running into the Bear-Skins or Fangs, and with Rhoth’s escort to boot.”

  “Yeah, I know it all, Brie. And on the way back you did run into Bjorn and his hunters. I know…”

  “And we could have all died. Seriously, Bjorn is not a happy bunny after what I did. There’s no way the people can pass through that way without loads more guards. And I mean loads. They’d be slaughtered otherwise.”

  “I agree with you. And, as always, we’ve got a problem of numbers. Lady Orlando hardly wants to lose too many of our soldiers here.”

  “But you said it yourself. We’re safe, right? And we’ve got City Guards joining up too. They might help…”

  “We do, and after Lady Orlando’s speech, our ranks will probably swell. But, having them join us here is one thing. Trying to get them to head out into the outerlands to save a few hundred people…that’s another.”

  “But Cromwell’s nowhere to be seen. We’re secure here. I say we get back out there and bring them home. What about Rhoth?”

  Zander is already shaking his head.

  “No chance in hell will he help. And anyway, he’s a whole other problem right now. We’ve had him moaning down the line, calling for us to get out there and fight his war for him. Adryan’s having a whale of a time dealing with all that, I can tell you.”

  “Well he can damn well shut up and stop his moaning!” I announce. “If he’s giving Adryan a hard time, I’ll…”

  Zander raises his eyes and smirks.

  “You’ll…what exactly?”

  “I…I don’t know. I’ll kick his ass, that’s what I’ll do.”

  “Well, as much as I’d love to see that, I think we can think of something better. It’s possible we can kill a couple of birds with one stone here. You see what I’m saying?”

  I let my ire settle, and then it comes to me.

  “Right…right,” I say, nodding. “Help Rhoth take out the Bear-Skins, and go and fetch our people on the way. Smart.”

  “Why thank you. Although, that was Kira’s.”

  “Yeah, she’s smart too. Damn, that girl’s got some moves, Zander. She was great today.”

  “She’s great everyday,” says my brother quickly.

  “You don’t…like her do you?” I query, leaning in. “You seemed to be getting on pretty well with Tess earlier. I won’t have you messing with my girls.”

  His laugh is wild and abundant. It fills the room right up to the brim.

  “First, none of your business. Second, I’ve got no time to ‘like’ people right now. This isn’t school, Brie, this is war.”

  I smile at his attempt to side-step the issue, and sneak right into his head to survey his thoughts. They’re a little less pleasant than I’d like, so I quickly retreat.

  “Ew…Zander.”

  He grins.

  “I knew you’d try that. Thought I’d show you something you didn’t want to see.”

  I pick up a few chips from a bowl and toss them into his face. He dodges them with annoying ease.

  “Anyway, we’re getting off-topic here. The simple fact is, no decisions have been made yet. There are other things at play too…”

  “Such as?” I ask quickly.

  “Well, such as you let me speak and get to my point,” he glares. I’m not buying it. He’s just sore because I brought up his love life. “Cromwell,” he continues, “is priority one. We’re sending out some scouts tonight to try to find some clues. Right now, he’s completely AWOL, and still no word from Burns.”

  “Right, well let him rot out there,” I say. “We have the city now, what can he do to us…”

  “Brie, you’re being naïve. Never underestimate a man like that. If we can blow the High Tower with what we had at our disposal, I’m sure he can think of something.”

  Why does he have to put me in my place so damn often? Why, Zander, why?

  “OK, anything else?” I ask.

  “That’s not enough for you?”

  “Oh, it’s plenty. It just seems like you’re building up to something…”

  “Actually, no. That’s all I’ve got. Overall, it’s not a bad place to be. I mean, I’ve looked forward to something like this for years. I never actually believed we’d be here.”

  “Well, it’s hardly ideal. It would have been a lot easier if Burns had just secretly taken Cromwell’s place.”

  My brother doesn’t agree with me immediately. I briefly survey his thoughts once more and see that, despite it all, he’s enjoying this. That, in a way, he’s glad it went down as it did.

  “Brie, stop it,” he says firmly. “I thought Lady Orlando told you not to invade people’s private thoughts?”

  “Ah, yeah. Sorry. I’m trying.”

  “Try harder,” he snaps. “You’ve got no right to do that.”

  He stands from the table. I’ve irritated him, I can tell. No need for thought-reading for that one.

  But then, I think it’s more than that. I think he’s perhaps a little ashamed by how alive all this is making him feel. That war, perhaps, is all he knows. That growing up with the Nameless has made the idea of peace, of total victory, unpalatable to him.

  He thrives in turmoil and conflict. It gives him purpose, gives him meaning, allows him to make use of his wondrous gifts.

  Without all of that, what would he be? Just a boy of 18, living a normal, boring, quiet life.

  And while he seems to abhor such a thing, my mind is quite different.

  In the end, this night has shown me that it’s all I long for.

  Family, friends, laughter and joy. That’s what I’m fighting for.

  And the sooner a real, lasting peace can be struck, the better.

  190

  I wake the following morning with a sore head in a room allocated to me within the City Guard HQ.

  Like the last few years at the academy, I have a roommate. The blonde locks of Tess have been replaced by the red ones of Kira, deemed to be an appropriate sleeping buddy for me given our mutual roles and powers.

  Here, on this floor, two up from the lobby, all of the offices have been given over for the housing of our more influential members. Over the course of the previous day, personnel were assigned to ensure that mattresses were fitted; simple, thin ones with little padding and the sparsest allowance of bedding too.

  The bed was comfortable enough, though, and merely tucked up against one corner of the roo
m, with Kira’s on the other side. When I come around, I find that hers is empty, just as it was last night. The only reason I know I’m staying with her, in fact, is because I woke up several times in the night in cold sweats and spotted her fiery hair across the room.

  I quickly dress and gather my weapons, before heading down into the main lobby, which has now been filled with desks and chairs and all manner of equipment, the rebel technicians quick to configure a fairly advanced looking base of command.

  It’s certainly a level up from the set up in the church, a necessity given how Lady Orlando and her underlings now have to try to run an entire city, and not just a few derelict buildings and damp, underground caves.

  My first port of call is to chug down as much water as my belly will allow, the whiskey from last night still lingering a little in my veins. I’d say that Mrs Carmichael would be in a far worse state, but know her too well for that. She’s so conditioned to the stuff that a full bottle to herself would most probably result in a pretty bad case of ‘alcohol breath’ and little more.

  As I stand at the water station in the atrium, swigging as if my life depended on it, it becomes evidently clear that I’m not going to get a chance for any RnR today. Already, more of our soldiers are ‘suiting up’ in their tactical armour and fetching their weapons from the stock room.

  “Lock and load,” I hear one particular grunt call out, before marching off through the main hall with a force of about a dozen men at his back.

  There are plenty of faces about that I don’t recognise. And a few that I do. Among the latter, the grizzled visage of Beckett stands out, the primary commander of the rebel army doing what he does best; barking orders here and there, calling the shots like a master conductor.

  I shuffle on over to him to get an update on what happened overnight. Our relationship is hardly friendly, but I wish for it to at least be professional. So I address him as a good soldier should, formal and respectful.

  Nevertheless, he appears a little too busy to deal with me right now.

  “Kira is outside,” he tells me. “She’ll fill you in.”