CHAPTER 48
Revolution stopped outside of Ward's interrogation room and waited. A hand appeared out of thin air as Rachel revealed a small explosive device. She could make her gloved hand visible at will. Yet another facet of Rachel that many people found off-putting. Revolution had much more weighty issues to worry about. He grabbed the explosive charge from the disembodied hand. It looked like a blob of silly putty with a clock in the middle of it. He placed it on the door lock, and Rachel kept the lookout. He pressed a small button near the readout and backed away. The clock was set to count down thirty seconds.
Inside the room, the dial was turned down to five. Owl Face jammed the prod into Ward’s bleeding, cooked ribs yet again, and Ward jolted back to consciousness. “Wakey, wakey. You still want to die?” the big man teased. He turned the dial to twenty-five and showed it to Ward. Then he took a long step back from Ward and aimed the prod at his testicles. “I don’t think he’s got the balls for this,” Owl Face taunted with a sadistic smirk. Fox Face squinted and turned his face away. Ward tried to panic, but his body would not respond to the terror in his mind. Just as the prod reached the soft skin…
BOOM!
The door blasted open. The wall around it shattered.
The door itself swung free with such force it ripped out of its hinges and knocked Owl Face into the corner of the room, trapping him behind it. The door actually lodged into the wall, canopying over the dazed Owl Face.
When Revolution entered the room, he did not even see Owl Face. The 360-degree mirrored imaging in Revolution’s helmet caught the image of the damaged door but did not make out the man behind it. Or the prod he’d managed to hold onto in his clammy hands. Revolution stood on the other side, two feet from one of the Junior Guards. The first of them barreled toward Revolution, who slammed him with a right cross, and the man was out.
One down.
Behind the door, sprawled on the floor, Owl Face rubbed his throbbing head and charged the prod to thirty-five.
Arbor was headed back toward room 217 when he heard the blast. Little did he know he was the only soul in the building that did. It was faint, coming from far away. The isolated prisoner wing was only really used for interrogation, and the fewer people who saw that the better.
Arbor stopped and listened but didn't hear anything else. He turned and continued toward room 217. But then he thought better of it—he knew an explosive device when he heard one, couldn’t hurt to check it out—and retreated back toward the sound of the blast.
Revolution swiveled from his punch and in one fluid motion kicked the other Junior Guard into the wall with a speed the eye couldn’t follow. He hit with a hard thud, headfirst. Rachel, invisible in the doorway, heard something crack when the man hit the wall and assumed it was his skull.
Behind the door, the prod reached seventy-five...
Revolution turned to see Fox Face, who had cowered on the far side of the room, as far away from the infamous Dark Patriot as possible. For the first time, Revolution took a good look at Ward’s condition. His gross injuries. Anger welled up inside him. He’d come to care more than he wanted to for the good-natured academic. That Ward could pierce his thick veneer spoke volumes for the man. Revolution lowered his head and stalked toward Fox Face.
Behind the door, Owl Face maxed the prod out at one hundred. He looked out into the room. Revolution had his backed turned toward him, concerned with his skinny partner.
Owl Face made his move, flinging the door off of himself, leaping to his feet, lunging at the Revolution. Ward and Rachel saw him at the same time and yelled in unison:
“Look out!”
But it was too late. All they did was cause Revolution to pause, giving Owl Face an easier, stationary target. The prod hit Revolution at the neckline. Electricity danced over his armor, and he convulsed from the massive shock. One hundred thousand volts surged through him. The lights in the room flickered on and off. Owl Face felt his whole body vibrate from the flow of energy, and for a moment he thought he would lose his grip on the prod. Revolution collapsed to the floor, smoldering. And the big Guard breathed a sigh of relief.
They all stared at his body in disbelief for a long moment.
In the doorway, Rachel did not move a muscle, hoping the Guards had not heard her voice. Would she have to fight? Would she have to flee? She waited to make her move. If she could just figure out what that move would be.
Ward was watching for Revolution to get back up. But he didn't. He just lay there, smoldering. He'd never seen that. Not even when the Fire Fly had blasted him. He had no time to prepare, Ward thought. The Revolution was dead, and Ward knew who was next.
“I just killed the frickin' Revolution!” Owl Face shouted.
Fox Face was unsure. “I dunno...not like you can check his pulse.”
“Nobody can survive one hundred thousand volts. Nobody.” Technically, Owl Face was wrong. The prod's levels increased voltage and amps. It was the amps no one could survive. Not even the Revolution.
“I dunno...” Fox Face was still unsure. There were just too many stories about this guy. All he wanted to do was call for backup, but his always ambitious partner was flush with the thrill of the kill.
“Shit! Everybody treats this guy like he's some kinda ghost,” Owl Face said. “That's body armor, right?”
“Guess so.”
“Then it can be scanned. Hand me that scanner.” Fox Face handed him a small device from his belt. Owl Face leaned down next to Revolution. Being that close to him stirred up a little doubt in the fat man. He peered back up at Fox Face, looking for reassurance.
Fox Face just shrugged.
Owl Face took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. Slowly, he ran the device over Revolution's prone form. A readout dotted across the device's small screen. Owl Face read it and grimaced. “What the...?”
“What is it?” Fox Face said, suddenly ready to flee.
“That can't be right.” Owl Face scanned again. Same result. He rose with a bug-eyed expression. Just like he’d seen a ghost.
“The armor. It’s grafted onto his skin,” Owl Face said.
Now Ward and Fox Face spoke at once: “What?”
Rachel kept silent that time.
“I'm tellin' ya, it’s grafted onto the dude's skin. He couldn't take it off if he wanted. It'd kill him.” Fox Face just shook his head in disbelief.
“'Course, I guess that ain't a problem now,” Owl Face laughed. He and Fox Face smiled at each other, and Ward sank further in his chains.
“The prod did it probably, right? Burned it on there?” Fox Face asked.
“Naw, had to already be like that. Hey. Let's find out who this dude really was.”
“Don't you think we should call for backup?”
“Backup? He's dead,” Owl Face sneered.
“Don't ya think we should call it in?” Fox Face glanced around at their fallen colleagues. Owl Face was focused only on the Revolution.
“Let's just see for ourselves first.”
Fox Face turned his head slowly, like he was working out a kink in his neck. “It could be booby-trapped.”
“Don't be stupid,” Owl Face shot back. The fat man reached under Revolution's mask. Out of sight from the Guards, Revolution moved his hand.
Rachel saw it. It was the sign she had been quietly praying for. Fighting was not her best skill, and she had no idea how she was going to rescue Ward alone. But this confirmed her hope. Revolution was playing possum the whole time.
Owl Face fumbled for a seam to lift the mask off and found nothing.
Suddenly, spikes shot out from just above Revolution’s wrists, and he jammed them into Owl Face’s chest with a loud splat. The Guard's face turned from shock to terror to agony.
Revolution lifted his head until the two were face-to-face. “Don't tread on me.” Revolution's armor hummed, and suddenly the Guard's body convulsed with energy. An electric shock. Skin sizzling grotesquely. The Guard fell over, sliding off the blades. Smo
ldering and charred. Very dead.
“Your armor absorbed the electricity and then released it into him!” Ward was ecstatic. For the first time in this whole ordeal he began to think he might survive it.
Revolution nodded.
The thin Guard backed away. Sheer terror mapped across his face. He couldn’t even run. He just stared at the Revolution as the man in the metal rose to his feet and stalked toward him once again. “Oh God! Please don't kill me.” Revolution stopped just in front of him as Fox Face crumpled into a ball on the floor.
“Okay, I won’t.” It was a threat. Revolution grabbed Fox Face’s arm and twisted it behind his back as far as it would go. The snap of the bone was audible—as was the skinny man's scream of agony. Rinse and repeat with the other arm. The Guard collapsed. Crying, dribbling spittle. Revolution grabbed a handful of his hair and slammed Fox Face into the floor with a crack, knocking him unconscious.
Then he spun quickly, hit a button on the wall, and Ward fell out of his chains into Revolution’s waiting arms. “Let's get you out of here,” he said to Ward.
“You came for me,” Ward said in a near sob that made Rachel hurt for him. She knew then that he had thought he was going to die in this room. Revolution helped Ward to his feet. He could barely stand. Rachel reappeared—with bandages to address Ward's wounds. She had come prepared for this contingency, and much worse. Revolution grabbed Ward’s torn uniform. He scanned the cuff darts, assessing their internal mechanisms.
“The darts still work. Let's bring back the Spider. I need him.” Ward's tired, defeated eyes twinkled slightly. He tried to grin.
“Me too,” Rachel added. “He has a nice ass.”
CHAPTER 49
Ward appreciated the humor, even if he couldn’t really show it. The rest of them seemed to find Rachel's humor distasteful, especially Sophia, but he liked it. He would tell her that one day. One day when he was fully clothed and fully awake. And less likely to puke all over her. It was all he could do to stay conscious.
But Rachel had come prepared for that as well, it seemed. Ward smiled as she came close, and then something popped and his nose felt like it was on fire. His eyes opened wide, and he realized she had opened up a packet of smelling salts. He saw her beautiful face and smiled again. Then the pain hit like a vise. And he crumpled over. Revolution grabbed him.
Ward’s mind was fuzzy. He saw the world in spurts of coherence. The next time he woke with clarity he was fully dressed in the flight suit and being led down a hallway. Revolution carried half of Ward's weight on his metallic shoulder; in his other hand he held the RDSD. Seeing Lantern’s little device brought Ward back to reality for some reason. He wanted so badly to know how it worked.
“You saved me. Don't know how much longer I would've lasted,” Ward told him. Revolution said nothing, still peering down at the RDSD.
“Don't get mushy. I needed a partner. You ready?”
That was almost a joke. Ward stopped walking. This must be serious. There was an urgency to Revolution’s tone. He thought of how the Guards in that room had taunted him. Humiliated him. He felt a rush of anger return. If Revolution needed his help, he was going to give it, even if it meant it was the last thing he'd ever do. He lifted himself off of Revolution’s shoulder and tested his rubbery legs. “I can walk. I think I’m good.” He lifted an arm and aimed with the cuff darts. “I’m all yours, General.”
Ward heard Revolution chuckle inside his helmet. Ward had never called him that before. “Fire fast,” was all Revolution told him.
Ward unclipped the helmet from his side belt and snapped it down onto his shoulders.
From ten feet in front of them they heard Rachel say, “If you guys are gonna kiss, let me know because I wanna watch.” Ward chuckled weakly, and Revolution, as usual, remained silent. Ward wondered what the Revolution thought of Rachel. Yet another topic for yet another day.
They turned a corner and saw the cause of Revolution's concern: a room of a dozen desk soldiers, going about their mundane office tasks, blocked their exit. The room was big, open, and offered easy targets. Revolution nodded to Ward, and he opened fire with the darts. His aim was uncharacteristically off, but still mostly accurate. He aimed for the extremities as usual. Revolution hurled throwing stars to take up the slack, grazing a few of the soldiers but mostly causing them to flee the room through an exit on the other end, opposite the front door. Ward knew Revolution viewed them as noncombatants, neutral. Unless they made an aggressive move, he would just want them out of the way. None did, and in a matter of seconds the path to the outside was clear. They sprinted for the door, leaping over the unconscious as they ran.
A black van was there to whisk them away to the new HQ. Alison Mitchell had helped them find the new spot as well as a separate location to house much of the more technical equipment, such as the Fire Fly chamber, they were told. It had taken an enormous effort, but with the slow response time of the authorities to a fire in South Boston, they had been able to move the chamber and its equipment moments before the police had arrived (but leaving no time to search for he and Ward in the rubble). It had been their top priority to do so. The chamber had been designed to be mobile for just such a contingency. Leslie filled Revolution in on everything as they sped away.
Arbor raced in the direction from which the explosion had come and found the room where Paul Ward had been tortured. It was a true horror. Three badly injured Guards. One charred, stinking body. Blood, vomit, piss all over the floor. But no Ward. No Revolution, either, but Arbor had seen enough of Stars and Stripes to recognize his footprint in the room. He was around all right. He’d been right to come here, to check on him. He’d just come too late. The freak had escaped. Arbor sprinted back out and began to hit the call button on his com when an African-American agent came running up to him.
“Lithium!”
The big man turned and recognized him as Kendrick Ray, code name: X-Ray. Ray was in his forties but looked like he was late twenties at best. He'd looked that way since his early twenties. Clay Arbor knew him by reputation and casual acquaintance. He was the best locator in the business. He’d been one of the central players in the Purge.
“Looks like they're gone. But I hear you're in charge of finding the new hidey-hole.”
Arbor nodded. “Yeah, you in?”
X-Ray didn't hesitate. “Hell yeah. Excellent!”
This was good news for Arbor. With the Suns of Liberty back together he would need all the firepower he could get. And X-Ray meant he’d be able to see in any kind of darkness. Even the metaphorical kind. No one in the business could match him. Not since the traitor Diego Alvarez died, anyway.
Ray seemed to be reading Arbor's face as they walked and then turned as if he decided he'd better give the big man fair warning. “They have a locator working for them. And whoever he is, he's good.”
“Any ideas?”
“No, but he goes by the call signature Lantern.”
“That sounds familiar.”
“Exactly. It should. Whoever that is worked with Diego Alvarez all those years ago. I've been looking for him ever since.” X-Ray talked about it with the tone of an excited schoolboy. Sometimes it was easy to forget that this guy had the highest level of security clearance available. Higher than Arbor’s.
“All the more reason to take him out, sweetheart.”
“Exactly. And I know exactly how to do it.”
Arbor had also forgotten how much Ray said the word exactly. He'd always wondered if it was just a verbal tick or a fucked-up calling card for a guy nicknamed X-Ray. As long as Ray helped to arrange a face-to-face with ol’ Stars and Stripes, he didn't give a shit.
CHAPTER 50
Alison took the damp washcloth in her hand and patted it gently down Ward's stitched back where the pliers had ripped him. He winced. “I'm sorry, baby. I know this hurts.”
Ward was naked again, but this time under considerably better circumstances, lying on the bed of their small quarters in the ne
w makeshift HQ—an old, abandoned warehouse that had doubled as a prison for a while decades ago. Now it looked like a strange combination of the two. Lots of hallways, big open rooms surrounded by lots of smaller cell-like caves, like the one they were in now. Ward was getting sick of prisons.
“Put the bandage on already. I really want to turn over so that I can see your face.”
“Just calm down, mister. You rip these stitches and you're going to see an angry face.”
Ward sighed and let her put the bandage over the cleaned stitches. “Think I’d do that? I am a doctor, you know.”
“I’m just glad you're back,” Alison said, tears suddenly welling in her eyes. Alison had put on a tough face for him since his return, but now he knew she had only been pretending.
“Are you sure you're safe being here?”
“I'm sure,” she said, regaining composure.
“Well then, make sure that thing is on there well. Don't want any blood in my new bug suit.” He smiled back at her, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Honey, don't go. Stay here with me. You need to rest.”
Ward reached out and found her body. She was wearing a thin nightgown, and the touch of her warm, smooth skin felt as healing to him as anything else he could imagine. “Let me do the diagnoses around here, lady.”
“It's different now, Paul. The Council's changed. They're out for blood. They see he's weak, that the movement's weak. The hard-liners want to end the insurgency. It’s a full-scale invasion. That’s what is coming.”
“I know, I get it,” Ward said, turning over. He did know. Alison had filled him and the Revolution in on the plans she had intercepted as soon as they had returned. “But isn't this what we've been working for? I have to defend this city. It’s what we both want.”
Alison winced as she saw his ribs. The shocks had left large painful-looking welts that had blistered. She grabbed a tube of cream from the nightstand and gently rubbed it onto them as Ward clamped his eyes shut tight. “We should go to back to the apartments,” she said.
The Suns of Liberty (Book 2): Revolution Page 24
