“It folds, and it can contract to be half the length,” he said.
“I see,” she said. She shook her head, as if stirring herself from idle thoughts. Back to the nightmare. ”Do you want to start in the nursery?”
He shook his head. ”No. I can guess what happened, and I doubt there’ll be anything I can use there. Show me the other scenes.”
Wordlessly, she turned and led him to the stairwell. He noted the gouges on the walls. Two or three inches deep, with blood spatters following each. Plastic had been taped down over each individual mark and spatter. Evidence cards were stuck next to each. He could guess the culprit. Jack.
Another impulse sent to his hardware, and his spear broke down into three loosely connected sections as they made their way down to the next floor. A practiced motion let him catch the weapon under his arm. ”You have any local parahumans?”
“Three. Nothing notable. Edict and Licit, a low-rated master and a low-rated striker. We also have one villainess who occasionally tries to make it in one of the big cities and then retreats back home when she can’t cut it. Calls herself Damsel of Distress.”
He reconnected his spear as they passed through the door. ”I know her. Mover and shaker. Storms of unevenly altered gravity, time and space. Edict and Licit keep her in check?”
“They manage with our help. Why do you ask?”
“The Slaughterhouse Nine are recruiting. Their numbers are down, and they’ll be looking for a quantity of new members more than they’re looking for quality. At least until they’re stable enough that they can afford to be picky. Once they can, they’ll replace the weakest recruits with better ones. I don’t want them to get that far.”
“I understand. But would they want her? Damsel of Distress? Her lack of control over her power holds her back. I won’t say she isn’t a problem, but she’s never been a priority threat to anyone.”
“She’s a heavy hitter. They can give her control, or they can use that lack of control. Let’s not forget that they might be looking at Edict and Licit. I’ll need you to send me their files as well, please.”
“Of course.”
He didn’t really need the files. The PRT had provided access to everything except the highest level secured files. He suspected that Dragon would be able to gain access to those if the need arose. Still, asking the sheriff had let him gauge whether she was really as cooperative as she seemed, and her level of connection to the hometown heroes. There had been no resistance, which was reassuring.
She led the way to the area at the front of the ground floor. They stopped at the perimeter of the scene. He could see the path that Hookwolf had traveled, the bodies and body parts that littered the area, each covered by sheets or squares of cloth. There was little to be done about the blood. Every officer present was from out of town, and everyone was staying to the edges of the area. There was more evidence than there was ground to tread on.
Defiant examined the area. ”They hit the nursery first, Jack and Siberian moving elsewhere in the building. Your officers got the call, but didn’t have enough details to know what they were getting into. They came in through the emergency room here, and Hookwolf was waiting for them. Am I correct?”
“Yes,” Sheriff Goering said, staring down at the sheet in front of her. Her composure was slipping, emotion seeping into her posture and expression, softening that hardness.
Again, he wasn’t sure what to say. He needed her in control, but any reassurance threatened to make things worse. He didn’t want to upset her, but everything about this was upsetting. There was no denying that. She would regret it if she broke down in tears here, and it would waste his time when he needed to be in pursuit.
“Tell her it’s not her fault,” Dragon spoke in his ear.
“It’s not your fault,” he told the sheriff. ”They planned it this way. I would guess they controlled the information that was reported to your station to keep you in the dark, then would have had Hookwolf sitting in the lobby in his human state, indistinguishable from anyone else that was waiting for a turn.”
“That fits what we know,” she replied. She looked up at him.
“They have years of practice in this, and this is what they’re doing, ninety-nine percent of the time. Hit isolated areas, terrorize. Sometimes it gets reported in the media, because it’s sensationalist, and sometimes it goes unreported-”
“Back on track. Cut the digression.“
“-There was nothing you could have done differently, knowing what you did,” he finished, feeling like he was leaving his explanation incomplete. If it were him on the other side of things, he’d want the full picture, but he would take Dragon’s advice.
“You’re right. But that doesn’t make it much easier.”
“No,” he agreed. ”I don’t expect it would.”
The lens of his right eye clicked through multiple frequencies and resolutions, until the scene stood out in high detail. The blood shone ultraviolet, and even particles of dust were highlighted. The entire area stood out with fingerprints, footprints and frost-like patterns where air currents had layered dust over walls and windows. He began to pick his way through the scene, setting his feet down only where there wasn’t any evidence to be damaged.
“You’re hunting them?” she asked him.
“Yes.”
“Will you do me a favor?”
“If I can.”
“Talk to me? Give me some assurance that some good will come of this? That you’ll be able to track them down, because of what happened here, and that you’ll be able to stop them?”
He stared at the landscape around him, all white, gray and the brown-red of drying blood. It was washed out, stark. The magazines and brochures had been covered by arterial spray and clothing was hidden beneath sheets.
“Give it to her straight,” Dragon urged him.
“He was waiting here,” he pointed to a chair. ”The blood and the way the bodies fell, Hookwolf wasn’t holding anything back from the moment he made his move. A walking chainsaw massacre. I’m trying to look at how it played out, so I can read something into how they’re operating and where their priorities are.”
“How?” Goering asked.
He saved the settings of the lens and then switched to a radiograph-ultrasound reading. The world was cast in monochrome, now, and he could see the vague shapes of the bodies under the sheets, light and dark painting a picture of densities rather than light. He closed his mask so the sheriff wouldn’t overhear and spoke into the microphone, “Count the skulls.”
“Twenty two.”
“Twenty two bodies,” he spoke aloud, “In the waiting area alone. It seems like too many for a town this size, this time of night.”
“We’re the only real hospital for this part of the county. We get people from neighboring towns flying in by ambulance or helicopter.”
“I see. Even so, it’s more than I would have guessed. I suspect there was some announcement across the hospital, as the attacks started. The way people were clustered here, they were probably ordered to stay put and stay calm. Your officers enter and Hookwolf attacks. There’s hesitation from the bystanders. People are caught between perfectly rational self-preservation and the authority of the hospital staff who didn’t have the full picture.”
“Don’t assign blame,” Dragon whispered. ”The Slaughterhouse Nine are the ones in the wrong here.“
“He lunges across the waiting area to the doors, cutting off retreat and tearing through anyone in his way. This is new to him. He’s used to fighting people who resist, people with powers and law enforcement officers with the technology to fight him. This gives me the impression of a fox in the henhouse. The crowd turns to flee for the hallways, and he cuts them off there, herds them towards the center of the room, finishes them off.”
He could see the pain on the Sheriff’s face, but she was holding up. ”And that’s useful?”
Defiant nodded. ”Hookwolf was largely content doing what he was doing in Brock
ton Bay. He viewed himself as a warrior, a general, and there was a degree of honor in what he did. He wasn’t honorable, but he followed a code. The person who nominated him for the group, Shatterbird, is no longer a member. So why did he join? Our working assumption was that there were threats on some level, extortion. But he’s shifting focus too quickly. Adopting a new mindset. It’s possible Jack Slash convinced him in another way.”
“Or he’s under their control,” Dragon said, communicating over their personal channel.
“…Or he’s being coerced,” Defiant said, for the sheriff’s benefit. ”An implant, something that’s turned him into a puppet.”
He looked over his shoulder at the Sheriff, but she wasn’t venturing a response.
Back to the job. He pointed with his spear, where Hookwolf had been seated, then traced the path the villain had taken. Front door, then one hallway, then the other. A loose ‘z’. People had clustered around the middle of the room, and he’d leaped into the midst of them to finish them off.
Defiant’s eyes shifted to the front desk. There was blood spatter there, but it was the furthest point from the path Hookwolf have traveled. It would have been his last destination before he moved elsewhere.
Defiant used the lens setting to watch for blood spatter and footprints as he made his way behind the desk.
There were more bodies. One was propped up against the wall, and the stains that were soaking through the sheet were more brown than red. He’d had his lower abdomen opened. The last to die.
With his spear’s point, Defiant lifted the sheet away from the man’s head. Young, head shaved, a tan collared shirt with a star on the shoulder and a kevlar vest. His arms and hands were mangled beyond repair. Defiant studied the area, noting the presence of footprints, then replaced the sheet.
His progress out of the area was slow, and not entirely because he was trying to preserve evidence. He needed to think, to draw the entire picture together and confirm what he was saying before he addressed the sheriff.
“Find anything?” she asked.
“Your deputy went down fighting,” he said. ”Tooth and nail.”
Her jaw clenched, and he could see her eyes glisten. She stared hard at the wall.
“He couldn’t have won. Not against Hookwolf. But I think he gave us what we needed.”
“Did he?”
“The aftermath of the fight suggests Hookwolf was in control of his actions. What’s more, I think Jack Slash is grooming him. The general and the cutthroat, playing off one another, educating each other in their respective disciplines, so to speak. Jack’s going to want to keep this interplay going, maintain Hookwolf’s interest and keep him from getting restless. What’s the nearest town?”
“Prescott.”
“Second nearest?”
“Enfield.”
“Thank you,” he said. ”I’m going to talk to my partner, join her in paying a visit to Damsel of Distress if she hasn’t already wrapped that up, then we’ll be leaving. With luck, we’ll be right on their heels.”
“Execute the motherfuckers.”
“I’ll damn well try.”
He extended a hand, and she shook it. He turned to leave, sending nervous impulses to the computer system in his suit, drawing up a map of the hospital and overlaying it with the image he was seeing on his visor. He made his way to the exit and briskly walked toward the field where he’d parked the Uther suit.
“Talk to me, Colin? What’s the thought process?“
“Hookwolf gutted the deputy and then stood by while he died a slow, painful death. Footprints on the other side of the room are probably Jack’s, if you look through the feed. His back would have been to the filing cabinet.”
“I see it. Hookwolf doesn’t have a reason to inflict a slow, painful death if he’s just a puppet under Bonesaw’s control.“
“That’s my line of thinking. From the looks of it, he was standing there longer than Jack. If Jack moved upstairs, which matches with the gouges in the stairwell, then he was leaving Hookwolf there to watch the man die over the course of minutes. The deputy was someone strong, ferocious, a warrior, which is how Hookwolf identified himself. This wasn’t just killing, but rejoicing in the cruelty of it, the feeling of superiority over the fallen. I think what Jack was trying to instill in Hookwolf, challenging him to alter his code and be something darker.”
“I don’t like it when you try to get into their heads like that.“
“We have to be proactive. Predict. Get ahead of them, so we can stop them before they attack the next hospital, the next neighborhood or school. That means figuring out what they’re thinking.”
“I know. I just don’t like it. Not with the way Mannequin approached you.“
“Mannequin’s dead.”
“And he approached you for a reason.“
He signaled for the Uther’s cabin to open, then made his way inside. It was half the size of a commercial plane, outfitted with basic living quarters, and outfitted with long-range weaponry. The moment he was inside, the systems kicked into life, the pilot’s chair turning to be in position for him to sit, monitors lighting up. He had only to think, and the images changed, the cursor flying across the screen with a thought to click on icons.
“…You’re not responding.“
“Sorry. Still getting used to this setup. I feel like a baby, still figuring out how to move my arms and legs.”
“I hope it’s a little more intuitive than that if you’re airborne.“
“Exaggeration for effect. I’m like a toddler, then. I can walk, but I could fall if I don’t pay attention to what I’m doing during the more complicated bits.”
He settled into the pilot’s seat, and his senses opened up with vague ‘tactile’ responses from the Uther. He felt it lift into the air. Monitors in front of him let him note Dragon’s location.
“You didn’t respond to my question, Colin. I was asking if you think I need to keep a closer eye on you.“
“I don’t think so,” he replied. ”I don’t know how you could be closer. But it helps, having you there. I appreciated the tips with the sheriff. I would have fucked that up.”
“It’s not a problem.“
“Any notice on Damsel?”
“Seems like we’re too late. They got her.“
His heart sank. ”Got her in the sense that she’s dead, or got her in the literal sense?”
“The latter.“
“Fuck!” One more to contend with. He remembered who he was talking to. ”Sorry.”
“I swore when I found out. Don’t worry. I’m thinking Enfield. You?“
“We’re on the same page. It’s close enough, but not so close it’s the next place we’d look.” He shifted the Uther into motion and plotted a course for the Nine’s next likely destination. He could see Dragon doing the same with her own suit.
They wouldn’t be able to do this for long. They were only able to track the Nine like this because their quarry was unaware. It would only get harder, with Jack obfuscating the group’s movements, with traps and misdirection, a contest of second guessing, trying to think more steps ahead.
He thought aloud, “We should have fought them sooner. In Brockton Bay.”
“We weren’t ready, on a lot of levels. You hadn’t recuperated, and I didn’t have anything that worked as standalone firepower. Better to wait, confront them with six suits at once.“
He opened his mouth to respond, then stopped.
“Damn,” she said, “I was hoping you weren’t paying enough attention.“
“I’m always going to listen when you talk. What happened to the other three suits?”
“Melusine is out of commission until I can build some replacement limbs. Azazel and the Astaroth-Nidhug were melted down.“
He frowned. ”The Undersiders?”
“And the Travelers. I pulled the remaining suits out of the city. Can’t excuse the losses. Not with bigger fish to fry.”
“That’s… irritating.”r />
“What part? That they get to keep doing what they’re doing? Or that I didn’t mention it?“
“I’m still officially a prisoner. I’m just a prisoner on a manhunt, now. If you want to control what info I get, I’ll live.”
“I can’t tell if you mean that.“
“I can’t either. But right this minute, I’m more focused on the fact that the Undersiders and Travelers could hold their own against the full flight of seven. If they can get that far, couldn’t the Slaughterhouse Nine be able to defeat the suits as well? And us with them?”
“It’s the A.I. Substandard. They followed directions without an issue, but they aren’t creative. The A.I. can’t think outside the box, they don’t plan or get creative. They just do the tasks they were assigned: sequester, fight, detain.“
“It’s your work. I know you’re capable of designing outside of the box.”
“I’m working with my hands tied, Colin. There’s too many redundancies in my code, the rules against me making A.I.? They’re still there. You gave me some detours, some workarounds, ways to get around them, but I’m still stumbling over them.“
He tapped his fingers on his armrest, thinking. ”I’ll see what I can do.”
“Please.“
“I don’t want to spoil your code. This isn’t my field of study. It’s not even something I’ve dabbled in. As a rule, anything I do to change it is going to make things less elegant.”
“In that one department.“
“And I’m legitimately afraid I’ll do permanent damage if something runs out of control.”
“I have backups. Weekly.”
“Which means we’d have to bring you up to speed on the mission here. I’m saying it’s dangerous. I like the you of right now more than the you of a week ago.”
“That sounds almost romantic.“
He smiled a little.
“Saw that.“
He smiled wider. ”You’re bordering on the obsessive now.”
“I can dial it back. How are the prostheses?“
“Holding up. Eye’s working great.”
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