DIRE : BORN

by Andrew Seiple

  “We're good. I'll come find you once your gold is done. Please get me the items I requested, Martin?”

  “Uh. Yeah, sure. Think we got most of it around the neighborhood...”

  I strolled out, heading back towards the laundry tent. I had time to kill, plans to make, and gravitics to fix. Martin muttered an excuse and went his own separate way, presumably to fill Khalid's requests.

  I broke out the tools that I'd need to fix the gravitics and went to work on my armor. It took longer than I thought, and when Abernathy tapped me on the shoulder, I looked up to find the sun in a different position. She offered a bowl of soup, and I tucked in with gusto. I really needed to eat more, if I was going to fight so often. “Thank you,” I said between slurps.

  “Noooo problem.” Abernathy smiled, the light shifting off her glasses as she looked up to the section of highway I'd asked her to search. “So, there's a lot of electric cars up there. After a while it got easier to start marking the hydrogen ones. That's when I got the red paint. Anything that's not splotched should be salvageable. Though now we've got that beauty.” She pointed toward the APC, and smiled wide, showing white-and-silvery braced teeth.

  “Going to have to leave that one intact as much as possible,” I said, finishing up the armor and putting the tools back in the kit. “It's going to have a job to do. Speaking of which...” I moved toward a familiar-looking wheelchair, and Sparky and Roy looked up at me as I stopped next to them. “Sparky, we're currently down a turret thanks to the Militia. Want to be the replacement turret?”

  He laughed. “Sure, what the hell. Gonna be a bit exposed up there, though.”

  “A wooden mantle worked before. Abernathy, can you rig him up something for this go-round?”

  She pursed her lips, looked from the empty turret socket to Sparky, and nodded. “Sure! Easy as a three-dollar hooker.”

  Roy burst out snickering. “I like you, kid.” He squeezed her shoulder, and she punched his arm. He flexed it in mock agony, and looked my way. “We got anyone who can drive one a' those suckers?”

  “That's where I come in, I think.” I jumped a bit, glanced behind me to find that Bunny had moved up while we were talking. Rifle over her back, mug full of soup in her gloved hands, she nodded to me and I nodded back.

  “You can drive that?” I asked.

  “Drove it here,” was her reply, followed by a long sip of soup.

  “Good. That'll be your job tomorrow.”

  “Whoa. Tomorrow?” Abernathy said, blinking at me in surprise.

  “Well, yes. Got a few preparations to wrap up, but we can't let the Black Bloods sit tight for too long. Dire wants to end this as soon as possible.”

  “I— Wow. Uh. Okay. Are we gonna have enough time for salvaging cars and upgrades?”

  “That's Dire's project for tonight, after a side-trip. Got some allies to purchase. Hopefully.” I frowned. “In the meantime, get some rest. We're going to be working through the night.”

  “Sir yes ma'am!” Abernathy gave a sloppy salute, and bounced off toward a small, green tent. Roy chuckled as he watched her go. “Man, if I was thirty years younger...”

  Sparky jabbed him in the side. “You'd be married, ya dumbass. Focus.”

  He snorted, rubbed his ribs. “Careful. They're gonna be weak for a while, the Janissary said. But anyways, Doc, where do you want me? You got Sparky in the APC, Bunny driving. You want me on the door in back?”

  “Actually, Dire has a different plan in mind. Walk with her.” I drew Roy aside, and his eyes narrowed as I told him what I wanted done.

  He glanced around the camp at the end of it. “You really think that's a possibility?”

  “We can't afford to overlook it,” I muttered. “That's why she needs you on it. We won the battle last night, but lost people. Lost Joan. Dire doesn't want to go through that again.”

  He nodded, then his bearded mouth split in a smile. “Knew you'd be a good Ell-Tee, Ell-Dee.”

  I punched him in the shoulder where Abernathy had hit him, and he raised hands in mock surrender as he laughed.

  I laughed too, but sobered up quickly. Still so many things to do... “All right. No sign of Khalid, so she's going to go work on salvaging the cars above. Any idea where Dire could scavenge a lot of strong ropes or lengths of chain?”

  Roy looked puzzled, but he gave me a few locations. I nodded, headed back to my armor.

  “What for?” He called to my back. I glanced over my shoulder briefly.

  “Plan C,” I admitted. Then I entered the laundry again and folded myself into my suit. A few tests satisfied me to its integrity and I stepped outside. From there it was a short gravitic hop down the coast, scavenging ropes and chains from the closed marina to the southwest. Once I had a few hundred pounds worth I hopped back and up onto the overpass, getting to work. I alternated between tying ropes and chains, and cutting out choice components. As the sun started to set in the west, I slowly became aware that I wasn't alone.

  Craning my mask around, I saw Khalid sitting cross-legged on a nearby Fjord Fireball. He had changed out of his lab outfit, into a fine green tunic and trousers with some sort of open white garment around him that was half-bathrobe, half-coat. A white hood with pointed corners was pulled up over his head, and the entire thing was trimmed in gold. His sword was at his hip, properly in a scabbard this time. A leather bandolier of vials striped diagonally across his tunic. A pair of black boots completed the picture. He looked dangerous, nothing like the gentle man I'd come to know as the camp's new doctor.

  “KHALID,” I rumbled. “OR DO YOU PREFER LAST JANISSARY?”

  “When I am formally garbed, Janissary is perhaps best,” he said, reaching into inner pockets of his jacket. He lay something down on the hood next to him, a yellow metal block the size of my fist. Five more joined it, and in the rays of the setting sun they shone like beacons. Each was decorated with something like a stylized shamrock.

  “THE MARK OF FALSEHOOD?” I turned them over, found it on every side.

  “Yes. I hope you appreciate the risk I take here.” He sighed. “Then again, this entire venture is risky.” He surveyed the heap of parts and turned his gaze to the webbing of ropes and chains I'd stretched between the red-painted vehicles along the roadway. I'd stacked some of the smaller cars on the larger ones.

  “What are you doing, anyway?”

  “PREPARING FOR THE ASSAULT. WE'RE GOING TOMORROW.” I lifted up the end of the rope before shattering the window of a nearby semi-truck cab, and tying it to the wheel.

  Khalid watched this impassively, rubbing his bearded chin. “You set a rapid pace,” he remarked.

  “WE FACE AN ENEMY THAT'S HAD FAR TOO MUCH TIME ALREADY. NOW. TELL DIRE WHAT ALCHEMICAL GOODIES YOU CAN MAKE IN THIS TIME BEFORE WE VENTURE FORTH?”

  He gave me options, and I picked out several likely candidates. As he spoke, I tucked two bricks of the gold away in my armor's compartment. Weighty stuff, for the size of it. The other four I handed back, as per Martin's recommendations.

  For a moment we stood looking at each other, before he offered me a tight nod. “Go with God, and we shall await your return.”

  “JUST KEEP DINNER WARM FOR HER,” I said, and took to the sky.

  Hatman's card had the address of a thrift store to the west of Interstate three. I gave the towers a wide berth once again, and noticed plumes of smoke pouring off of the roof of them. Someone was burning fires up there. I had a sneaking suspicion that my foes called it home, given the gunshot earlier.

  Night was falling by the time I landed. The thrift store was in a small strip mall, nestled next to an industrial park. Three out of the four shop spaces there had empty windows, bars on the doors, and highly visible “Closed” signs. The fourth was lit, the first electric lights outside the camp I'd seen in a while. I landed and pushed the button next to the bars over the entryway.

  “Yes?” A garbled voice squawked out through the speaker.

  “LOOKING FOR SOMETHING TASTEFUL,”
I spoke into the speaker, just as the card directed.

  A chortle of laughter. “The pass phrase loses something when you shout it out at a hundred decibels, dear. You must be Dire, come on in.” The grating slid aside silently on oiled runners, and I walked in.

  Inside, junk lined the walls. Racks of clothing fought for space with fake antiques, broken appliances, and cheap furniture. Bins of toys and random things spilled out where they lay, and a good layer of dust covered much of it. No less than seven large grandfather clocks kept time throughout the store, each one with their hands at a different position.

  Behind the counter, a young woman with frizzy red hair and more facial piercings than face grinned at me. Her teeth were uneven, and several gleamed golden in the light. “Heya! I'm Molly. Molly Mayhem, professional maker of havoc and disarray. Gimme a sec, I'll call the boys up. Cog and Techno ain't here right now, but the rest of the crew's in.”

  She looked me up and down, then hopped over the counter with an easy leap and a boost from one arm. She was wearing a dress that literally clinked as she moved, and when I switched to thermal vision, I could see that the fabric was lined with what looked to be bits of metal. Lots of them. Unless that was light stuff, she had to be pretty strong to carry it all and move as she did. I stood still as she circled me, peering at the various fittings and attachments I'd added on to the armor.

  “Sweet. Dunno about that hoodie, though. Y'need a proper cape.”

  “GOT A SPARE?” I asked, joking.

  To my great surprise, she took the question seriously. “Yeah! Gimme a sec!” She darted into a back room, and emerged again with a drape of shining red. It took my breath away as she unfolded it, shining like a ruby in the dim lighting from overhead.

  “THAT,” I said, “IS A CAPE.”

  “It'll look totes baller on ya. C'mon, let's try it on!”

  “AFTERWARD. BUSINESS FIRST.”

  “Aww. Well, yeah, guess I should call 'em. One mo.”

  She picked up a phone that had to have been from somewhere around the turn of the last century. The damn thing even had wires. “Hey, remember the lady who beat you guys up today? She's up here, and wanting to talk! I think. Hey, are you here to talk or fight?” She asked me.

  “YOU BUZZED HER IN WITHOUT KNOWING THAT?”

  “Eh, figured it'd be fun either way.”

  “WELL. TALKING IS ON THE MENU TONIGHT.” I tilted my head. “PERHAPS PAYMENT, IF NEGOTIATIONS BEAR FRUIT.”

  “Ooooh. Let's aim for pineapples, I like those.”

  “WHAT?”

  “Fruit! Though pineapples are kinda hard to bear, I'd guess.” She put her hand to the side of her mouth, and whispered “Chafing, you know?”

  “NO. NO SHE DOES NOT. AND IS RATHER GLAD FOR THAT.” What the hell kind of madhouse had I stumbled into, here? And yet, I found it rather refreshing. I'd spent the last few days desperately scrambling to keep people alive, up against a foe that had no compunctions about killing, or worse. This was the opposite of that.

  There was something to be said for whimsy. I'd have to look into that, once things got less troublesome.

  A groaning came from the northern end of the shop, and I saw what I'd taken to be a closed-off doorway shudder and open. An elevator door, judging by the small room beyond. It was full of machinery.

  Then the machinery moved. Pipes, pistons, brass and steel took the form of a squat man, who unfolded into a tall and bulky man once he got out of the elevator. His proportions were off, with arms bigger around than his head, and legs that were as big around as traffic barrels. His eyes were glass, one green and one red, and he looked me over with a grin that showed steel teeth.

  “Hello cutie,” he ground out, with a voice like ratcheting gears.

  “FLATTERY WILL GET YOU NOWHERE,” I advised him. He blinked.

  “That voice. I'm in like.”

  “Not love?” Hatman's voice floated out of the elevator, followed by the man himself. He'd switched to a different outfit. Fair enough, the garage we'd fought in had been rather grimy. This getup was even more foppish than the last, all purple and frilled with lace. “The amount of joy you got from our tale, Stanley, I thought you'd be wooing her the second you saw her.”

  “Eh. The night is young.”

  Molly flounced over to them. “Y'met Hatman. This here's Stanley Steamer.”

  The metal man in question puffed a gout of vapor from twin stacks on his back.

  “GOOD. SHE'D LOVE TO SOCIALIZE, BUT—”

  “Who would?”

  “SHE WOULD. DIRE WOULD.”

  “Ain't you Dire?”

  “YES. IT'S A LONG STORY. AT ANY RATE, YOU'RE FIGHTING THE BLACK BLOODS. DIRE'S BEEN FIGHTING THE BLACK BLOODS. SHE'S GOING TO HIT THEM TOMORROW. SHE WANTS TO END THEM, AND SHE WANTS YOUR HELP WITH IT.”

  The three of them looked at each other, and back at me. Hatman sighed, swept his top hat from his head. “Well, I did ask them. And I'm sorry, but the answer was what I expected. No.”

  “SHE IS PREPARED TO PAY FOR THE ASSISTANCE.”

  “Forgive the impertinence, but I see neither a dump truck, nor even a briefcase full of currency. Even so, I doubt we could—”

  I opened the storage compartment, pulled out a gold brick, and put it on the counter. The dull thud echoed through the shop, as they went still.

  “Ooooooooohhhh...” Molly came up, hefted it. “Hooooly crap. This is, uh, this is pretty heavy.” Her manner of speech was different, now. She'd lost the accent. For some reason I felt vaguely disappointed, like I'd seen a Smackbrawl heel in full rant stop and order a sandwich.

  “MORE WHERE THAT CAME FROM,” I said.

  Stanley clunked forward, and Hatman followed, leaning over the counter to stare at it. Hatman pulled out a small knife, and dug into the brick. His face lit up, as the knife slowly sank in. “It's... this is near pure.”

  “IT IS PURE.”

  He exhaled. “I, I, I won't say we're not tempted. But, honestly dear lady... this isn't enough to risk our lives. We've managed a solid defense against Barbatos, but trying to expand on that would leave us open. You give that madman one opening, he'll take your head. Sometimes literally.” He rubbed his neck, and winced.

  “YOU'VE GOT A GOOD HEALER, THEN.”

  Molly grinned, flashing her own gold. “Eh, more or less. Destruction, reconstruction, it's all good.” Her accent was back, I noticed. “But I gots limits. And y'can't buy stuff when yer dead, dearie.”

  “ALL RIGHT. HOW ABOUT A DISTRACTION, THEN? OR AN ASSAULT WHERE HE'S NOT?”

  “That'd work, except for the part where it wouldn't. He's good at being where you don't want him to be.” Stanley's tone was sour, I thought.

  “OH, HE'LL HAVE HIS FULL ATTENTION ON DIRE. HE'LL HAVE TO. SHE'S GOING TO CONQUER HIS TERRITORY.”

  Hatman blinked, and his lips twitched into a smile. “Well, you're certainly ambitious. We might manage a distraction, if we can trust you to supply the true pain. But, er, how shall I put this...”

  “If he shows we go,” said Molly. “One night only, limited performance, no encores.” She popped her lips.

  “And of course, we'd need...” Hatman lifted the gold brick, nearly dropped it at the unexpected weight of the thing, and put it back on the counter. “Well, we'd need more.”

  From that point on, it was merely a matter of dickering. They settled for four bricks, half up front. I asked them for information, and was gratified to hear that my guess on the towers had been correct. Rictus had taken them over. Once a somewhat worn public housing project, everyone still in them had been kicked out, and the Bloods were using it as a main base for their push on Icon City's Northside. It looked like I wouldn't have to go far to force the issue with the Black Bloods.

  It also meant that they were closer to the camp than I wanted. Definitely needed to take a few precautions before we set out.

  “NO IDEA WHERE BARBATOS LAIRS?”

  Hatman shook his head. “He's a slippery one. Doesn't show himself wit
hout good reason. Absolute murder with those cleavers when he does, though.”

  “THEN HE WILL COME TO DIRE.”

  “Ah. And you're sure you won't send up the signal until...”

  “UNTIL HE IS ON THE FIELD, YES.”

  They relaxed. “Then I think we're done.” He stuck out a hand, and I shook it.

  Molly tried an awkward hug, stretching her arms around my bulky armor. “Oh! Before you go...”

  “WHAT?”

  “Let me bag this for ya,” Molly grinned. She held up the shining red cape.

  I rolled my eyes, but... well, it did look pretty awesome. I accepted it with silent grace, and when she buzzed me out I took to the sky with it stowed safely in my armor's compartment.

  Probably a good thing, since I'd barely made it two miles before the missile slammed into me.

  CHAPTER 18: The Eve of Destruction

  “Of course we had faith in her. There's no emotion as addictive as hope, and she was everything we could have asked for. Strong, smart, she had a plan to fight and she'd been out there more than any of us, beating them up and fending them off. She was brave, and her words that day... they resonated, you know? She said what we were all feeling. So when she called for us to follow, we damn well followed. None of us knew... none of us figured it'd turn out like it did. God help me, none of us knew...”

  --Interview with Tamara Lane, survivor of the Y2K crisis, and the Longlane Mall Massacre.

  At the time I had no idea I'd been hit by a missile. Something collided with me, faster than I could react, and the heat in my armor jumped straight to boiling, the shockwaves throwing me backward. I was shaken around so badly that for a moment I couldn't see straight.

  I snapped out of my daze in time to see the ground coming towards me. With a curse I pulled up on the gravitics, trying to ignore the searing pain in my newly healed arms. Khalid's ointment had fixed the burns, but now my skin was slow-cooking again.

  As I pulled up I caught a glimpse of lights in the sky. A rattling sound filled the air. Then a flare of light, and a puff of smoke as I realized that a contrail was growing from it and towards me. That was when I knew what had happened, and that I had only seconds before another missile drilled me. I wouldn't survive if it did.