by Mathy, Scott
He finished crossing the corridor, his throat drying as he fought to find the best way to calm his panicked friend, “She’s alright,” he started with.
“How do you know? She could be anywhere out there!” He pounded at the sides of his head through his increasingly disheveled hair, “I’m so stupid.”
“Relax,” Dwight advised, “We should go inside and sit down.”
Ian must have detected Dwight’s hesitation, “Wait, what? What is it, Dwight?” He was approaching meltdown there in the doorway.
“She’s alright,” he repeated, taking Ian by the arm and leading him. He waited until they were seated in the living room before continuing, taking note that the television, its screen normally alight with vibrant explosions, was turned off. Ian’s laptop sat in front of them, an emergency band scanner running in the browser.
“Tell me what happened this morning. What was your fight about?” Dwight asked.
Ian began slowly, his eyes frequently darting over to the information streaming in the laptop’s window, “I spent all night thinking about what you said, about Counsel and what’s going on between the corps. I told Glitch I didn’t think she should go out today, that it was too dangerous, that I wanted her here. We argued, then she stormed out.”
Dwight sat listening, experiencing flashbacks of life in his own penthouse. He could practically feel the gust of autumn air as Linda slammed the door leading to their balcony and took off, leaving him and Molly alone during the long hours of her budding career. The auburn Pomeranian lay in a dog bed just off the corner of the sofa, barely registering the arrival of her former owner.
“That’s how it is, buddy. That’s how it’ll always be. They’re not like us. Once they feel that rush, the cheers of the public, the thrill of the fight, there’s no stopping them. She’s going to go out every day whether you want her to or not. It’s just something you learn to live with.”
“But it’s too dangerous. You said so yourself. This is beyond any of us. This Counsel, whoever he is, can’t be stopped by us –her. I can’t take this feeling that every second she’s out there, she could be lost, or hurt, or worse.”
“But that’s the life they signed up for. There’s not a goddamned thing that says she had to use her powers to protect this city. The bartender at the Uptown, she’s a damned Power. You know what she does with it: turns the fucking T.V. on for customers. Glitch decided for herself that she was willing to risk her life trying to save others. The least you can do is respect her right to make that choice.”
Ian’s head sunk into his hands, overwhelmed by the stress of his missing partner. He went quiet, taking in Dwight’s words.
“Please, please trust me when I say this. I have been in your exact same shoes. I know what you’re feeling, and how this ends if you can’t learn to live with who she is – who she wants to be. There is no world where she abandons being a Cape to live the quiet, safe life here. All you’re doing is pushing her away by trying to control her.”
The argument was even more painful to make with the knowledge that she was sitting mute in Ellis’s lab in pieces, her brain kept alive by a battery hotwired to her neck.
Ian finally broke the long silence between them, “Then where is she, Dwight? You keep saying she’s alright, but how do you know?” He was in tears when he at last looked up.
Dwight sighed heavily, knowing the inevitable outcome, “She’s back at Ellis’s. She met up with me this morning. Bernard found us after. We tried to find out what was going on at StarPoint, ran into Counsel. She’s alive and safe, but her body was destroyed. She may have bought us some time, thrown a major wrench in his plans.”
From the look in his eyes, Ian stopped listening at the word “destroyed.”
Dwight hurried to clarify, “Counsel, he-” he stammered, starting again, “Counsel was stronger than any of us could fight. He destroyed her body, but her head is fine. I got her back to the Doc’s place; she’s hooked up to a power source and stable. The Doc says she’ll have a new body as soon as humanly possible.”
Ian started shaking, “I knew this would happen,” It was a quiet murmur at first, “Why did you let her go?”
Dwight wasn’t sure if Ian was talking to him or himself, “Ian, she wanted to do this: to stand against the person threatening to destroy the city.”
“But you could have said ‘no!’” he was screaming now. Molly leapt from her bed, startled by Ian’s sudden change in volume. She ran from the room, seeking shelter in one of the penthouse’s bedrooms. She followed the same behavior back in her old life, whenever Dwight and Linda fought.
He tried to remain calm, “It wasn’t my place to. It’s not yours, either.”
“Cut the shit, Dwight! Everyone who helps you ends up hurt or worse! It’ll only be a matter of time before everyone you know is dead! You just don’t care who gets killed as long as it keeps you going!” He began pacing back and forth in front of the television.
The pain was building in Dwight’s chest, “Ian, there is not damned thing in this world I would take back before all the times my decisions have blown back on you or anyone else, but Glitch made her own choice by being there. Fuck, she maybe have saved us all by sacrificing her body.”
“She wouldn’t have been there at all if you didn’t treat everyone in your life like they were fucking disposable!”
“And you’ll lose her if you keep holding her back!” the memories of all the hard times arguing with his ex overtook his restraint, “She is not a little trophy that you can add to your memorabilia collection! She is her own person, one who will never be like you or me. She was a Power long before she met you! She’ll be that with or without you! The sooner you realize that, the sooner you’ll stop treating her like one of your damned toys!”
Ian lashed out, punching Dwight across the side of his face. Both men stood frozen for a time. For Dwight, it was far from the strongest hit he’d ever taken. The shock of the action did more than the actual force of his fist. Ian stood there shaking, the full weight of his attack setting in. His knuckles were bleeding as he massaged them with his other hand. For all Dwight knew, this may have been the first time Ian physically struck anyone.
“Get out,” he said finally.
The words hit harder than his fist had, “I’m speaking from experience here, buddy. She’ll be alright, but I need you to-”
“I said get the fuck out of my house!” he screamed again, his eyes welling up in anger.
Dwight knew anything he could possibly say would be lost on his former roommate at this point. He turned and headed for the exit, looking back only once to see Molly peek her tiny head around the corner of one of the doorways far down the hall. Ian stood alone in his living room, holding his injured hand, sobbing quietly as the hitman closed the door behind him.
Dwight felt the cold sting of the evening breeze along with the pain in his cheek. He thought to wrap his jacket tight around himself, but then realized his normal clothing was sitting in the van at the bottom of StarPoint’s labyrinthine parking garage. For now, he was stuck as the thing he never wanted to be: one of Wulf’s blue-suited Associates.
Arriving at the subway station, he got on the fastest line directly to the one place he never wanted to go. Watching the city skyline pass by the train’s windows, StarPoint glowed in the night sky. He wondered if Counsel was still there, planning his next move as his counterpart planned his. It felt so unfair: one Dwight with unlimited power, experience, and resources against him. He cursed the multiverse’s sick sense of humor.
The train rolled into the station, coming to a stop with a shudder. Dwight headed up the concrete steps to the exit, looking up at the Justice Guild’s tower rising up before him. The dozens of flags belonging to each of their individual teams blew loosely in the wind before the grandiose entrance. Spotlights illuminated the building’s façade and the architecture surrounding the complex. Any sign of the bombing almost a year ago was gone. Dwight approached the building, knowing perfect
ly well what their response to his arrival would be.
Several costumed Capes were coming and going from the building as he entered the lobby. Without the focus-group-tested outfits, it would have been possible to mistake them for any corporate office workers. They drank coffee, filed paperwork, put in their time like anyone else; it just so happened that some of them could throw a city bus a mile without breaking a sweat.
Dwight stepped up to the guard station, looking at the pair of agents occupying it. The woman, clearly former military from her posture and hairstyle, glanced passively at him. She wore a bulletproof vest, a pistol in the holster at her hip. How quaint, Dwight thought, that a building full of Powers would be protected by two Normals armed with conventional firearms. Your average Power wouldn’t even notice being shot with their weapons. Then again, they weren’t there to keep metahumans out; they were there for people like him.
“Offices are closed for the day,” she said dismissively, “If you’re looking for an application, you’ll have to go through our recruiting agency.” She held out a card without so much as eye contact.
“I’m here to turn myself in,” Dwight quietly answered.
The pair at last looked up at Dwight, the woman’s partner reflexively reaching for his gun.
“My name is Dwight Knolls; I am the vigilante known as the Referee.” He kneeled down, feeling the cold tiled floor through the thin material of his Associate’s disguise. “Last spring, I killed three trainees in my apartment. I have previously murdered eighteen Powers in and around New Haven. I surrender myself to Midas,” he placed his hands behind his head, “Please arrest me.”
SIX
They led him through the secured corridors of the high-tech building, past barracks and training facilities. Two Powers were called down to escort him through the fortress to their leader. In truth, Dwight felt flattered by the display of force. He only recognized one of the Capes: the extravagantly-dressed Abra, one of Linda’s former teammates. He guessed the mage had personally volunteered for this task. The other one, a woman with tangled vines growing across her body like clothing, followed behind. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the other Capes gawking at his passing. Several times, he saw them whispering to each other, the rumors of his arrest spreading through the building.
“They know what you did, Knolls,” Abra jeered threateningly, “It’s only a matter of time before one of us finally gets you back for all the deaths you’ve caused.”
“Uh huh,” Dwight responded dismissively.
He shrugged, “For all you know, it could be Midas that saves us the trouble. I wonder how long you’d survive if he flew you into orbit?”
He kept walking, only barely acknowledging the threat, “Sure.”
They passed a glass-lined wall overlooking a machine shop. Several staff members – non-Powers, he guessed by their uniforms – serviced the Guild’s mechanical heroes’ suits and weapons. He spotted Ar-Marie working on her suit with a power saw. The armor plating on the machine looked much thicker than Dwight remembered. As he passed, she lifted the faceplate of her protective mask, revealing the scarred flesh where she’d been burned in the explosion. Her once-flawless skin on the right side of her face was a painful-looking mess of healed wounds.
They continued on until they eventually reached the penthouse apartment and office of the Guild’s celebrated leader. Proceeding through the oak doors, Dwight found a foyer lined with trophies and framed newspapers detailing the Cape’s greatest victories. Abra and the plant-woman led Dwight into the living room, where they found Midas already seated in one of the room’s enormous leather sofas. StarPoint shone in the night sky behind him as a light snow began to fall. Midas smiled mockingly at his prisoner.
“Thank you, Tiana, Abra. You may go. I don’t imagine Mr. Knolls will be much of a threat without his bald psychic bitch or his serum.”
His escorts did as told, leaving the room the way they came. The two men stared silently at each other. Dwight wondered how Midas knew about his serum, but kept the question to himself for now.
Midas ended the silence, “I’m surprised you came. Personally, I was looking forward to seeing some of our Rising Stars bring you in. I planned to promote and hold a press conference for the lucky team; the public does so love a happy ending.”
“Knock off the CEO game, Midas,” Dwight said, “You know perfectly-fucking-well why I’m here.” He nodded out the window at the building in the distance.
“To turn yourself in for murdering three of our trainees in cold blood? I always thought we should have done more to bring you in after your little show in the mountains. You have no idea how long it took our PR department to spin that for us.”
“I’m sure they were well compensated for their noble work.”
Midas laughed, “Our biggest expense; well, besides my salary. After they had their way with it, you came off looking more like a scorned, obsessive fan, not some vigilante crusader. We didn’t need to go after you. No one cared about the tape, the stream, how you beat me. Not a fucking thing mattered after that; you basically did us a favor.”
“Unlimited credibility,” Dwight groaned.
“Exactly. See, Dwight, the public doesn’t want to see us as equals. They want their gods. The idea that we can make mistakes, that we have the same moral and psychological weaknesses as them, terrifies them. They want us to be better than them.”
“You’re wrong. They’ll see through you eventually. They’re afraid of you now, but that only lasts until you push too hard. There’s a point where anyone will tire of your shit. You’ll see. I showed them you can be beat, and I don’t just mean with my fists, though that was the highlight of my year: seeing you begging for your life.”
That one struck home, instantly breaking Midas’s smug demeanor, “I hope it was worth it.”
Dwight allowed himself a moment of pride, “You bet. Your public depantsing aside, I’m actually here to warn you about something worse, even if it means I submit myself to your merciful graces.”
“Oh?” Midas reclined in his seat, kicking up his feet on the matching ottoman.
“Wulf is gone. There’s an extra-dimensional Power in control of StarPoint. He has a weapon capable of wiping out the entire planet. He’s done it before, and is preparing to do it now if we don’t stop him.”
The Cape seemed unfazed by his story, “Sounds like a real serious crisis you have there. Maybe we should inform the Alpha Guard as well. Maybe we should get on the phone to Central or Eastholme, too.” His voice was filled with melodramatic irony.
Dwight didn’t appreciate the insult, “I’m fucking serious, you tights-wearing prick. I’ve been to the last world he did this to: another New Haven. There’s nothing left but ruins and undead Powers.” He pointed through the window. “If we go now, there’s a chance that the two of us can stop him. Do your job, be a fucking hero, and save the world. These people need you.”
He looked back over his shoulder, “Counsel warned me to expect you.”
Dwight’s stomach dropped, “How can you serve him? You know what he does to worlds he can’t control, what he’s planning on doing to New Haven?”
“Of course I do, Dwight.” Midas brushed his immaculately-styled black curl from his forehead, “But this is self-preservation. There will always be another New Haven, another populace begging for a god to worship. Here or there, doesn’t matter to me. If the ship is sinking, I’ll be the first one in the lifeboat.”
Dwight felt himself shaking again, “For all your fucking posturing, you’re just another narcissistic waste of life.”
“I’ve never claimed to be a hero,” the Power rose from the couch, “People like you – the helpless, the weak – call me that. I just never corrected them, and accepted the paychecks.”
He grabbed Dwight by the throat, lifting him from the ground. The hitman threw his hands around Midas’s wrist, trying to free himself, but the effort was futile. The Cape pulled him in close.
“I’
ll be sure to let the next Referee I find know about how miserably pathetic your last moments were.”
“Wait,” Dwight gasped, struggling to speak through Midas’s grip. The Power relaxed his arm, slightly lowering him to his tiptoes. Dwight coughed lightly, “You should know: your security sucks. First thing they should do is make sure to check for anything that could be used to say, broadcast incriminating evidence to other interested parties. I’m sure your PR department is looking forward to the overtime.”
He wrenched the phone from Dwight’s hand, crushing the device easily before turning back to the dangling hitman, “That’ll be the last time you humiliate me, Knolls. When we’re done, the city won’t have time to laugh at your failure before we wipe it out.”
Dwight felt the infinitely stronger fingers tighten around his windpipe again, choking the life from his body. His vision blurred, his eyes rolling back in his skull. Just as he felt himself starting to black out, a crash came from the windows behind the homicidal cape. A rush of wind and he was falling to the floor of the penthouse. There was another crash as he gasped for air, spewing fluids as he tried to assess what happened to Midas.
Rising to his knees, he looked behind him to find a hole through the solid concrete wall. He heard the sounds of fighting, furniture smashing, impossibly powerful punches being thrown. Suddenly, a blur of blue and black exploded through the wall, destroying the sofa in a burst of wood, stuffing, and brown leather. Linda lay stunned in the wreckage, shaking off the force of the blow that had returned her to the living room.
Midas stepped triumphantly through the hole, gloating over his former lover, “You’ll have to hit me a lot harder to break this skin, but I assume you already know that.”
“Oh, that shouldn’t be an issue, honey,” she righted herself, brushing wood and dust from her uniform. “I’ve always gone easy on you. Protecting your fragile little ego was a part of my last contract.”
