DIRE : SEED (The Dire Saga Book 2)

by Andrew Seiple

  I blinked. “There was a lot of ‘earlier’. Please elaborate.”

  “Do you truly wish to free the world from reliance on metahumans? Do you really want to see a world that doesn’t need heroes to save it? Are you willing to devote your life and years of work to that cause?”

  I nodded. “Without hesitation or despair.”

  He smiled. “Then yes, I agree. No vendetta. We can’t be allies, but we need not be enemies.”

  “Just like that?” Vorpal asked.

  “Just like that.” He tapped the keyboard. “Now, that account?” I gave it to him, and we watched as he transferred the money over.

  “You’ll want the frequency now?” I asked.

  “Yes, please.” His fingers flew as I gave him details, and he gridmailed orders off to his black ops division. “That should do it. With your help, my power armored squad should be able to handle that monstrosity of his, and the thing you called Chaingang as well. We’ll maintain the polite fiction that they’re your minions. Useful to maintain deniability on my end.”

  “There’s a problem,” I said. “He’s got multiple kaiju. At least two, probably more.”

  “What?” He frowned. “Unacceptable. Explain.”

  I told him of the one waiting at the fake convoy’s ambush, the one at the power station, and how the one who’d attacked me in my original lair came within minutes of the pollen hitting the air.

  Morgenstern sighed. “Nothing’s ever simple. You’ll need time to repair your armor, yes?”

  “Four hours, depending on your facility and materials to hand.”

  “You should have plenty and you’ve got two hours. I’ll use the time to line up some other independent contractors.” He hit a button, and the proper door to the office opened. A slim young brown-haired man stood there, tablet computer in hand.

  “Yes Aegon?”

  “Jamie, show these guests to floor fourteen, get them researcher badges, and ensure that they’ve got everything they need. Any reasonable request and most unreasonable ones as well.”

  “Sure thing. Ah, are you working late tonight?”

  “Yes. Cancel the reservations at Arman’s. I’ll treat you tomorrow, the kerfluffle should be over by then.”

  “Yes sir.” Jamie smiled warmly, a smile that shrunk a bit as he turned it on us. “Follow me please?”

  We started out the door, but as we did, Morgenstern called after us. “Dire. One more thing?”

  I glanced over my shoulder, and he continued. “You’re the sort of villain who people work for, not the sort of villain who works for other people. In the future, play to that paradigm. Much less fuss for everyone involved, hm?”

  I bit back an instinctual retort, considered it. It had been a lot of fuss. “She’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Good. Carry on.”

  We followed Jamie to floor fourteen without any further incident. He gave us a pair of badges, swiped us past glowering security guards, and led us into the center of the power armor lab. To my satisfaction I saw three familiar-looking suits in the repair bays, all the ones I’d wrecked during my last scuffle. Four slots stood empty, and five more were filled with relatively-undamaged suit. Auto-sprayers were busy painting them to match my mask.

  I surveyed the servos, took count of the counters, assayed the sanders, and nodded in satisfaction.

  “This’ll do.”

  A throat cleared behind me, and I turned to see an older gentleman in a lab coat and safety goggles. “Afternoon, ma’am. Jamie asked me to step you through the machinery we’ve got in place to fix your armor. It’ll be a tight job to get it done in two hours, but don’t you worry, missy, we’ll see it through.”

  Missy. Hmph. I smiled wide and showed a lot of teeth. “You have her armor then?”

  He gestured to a reinforced table, and I recognized my mangled suit. “Yeah. We’ve been trying to analyze it, but, uh, it seems to have some defenses in place.”

  “Oh, yes. It does. No one died?” I smiled wider.

  “No. Uh, we’re ready to go, just tell us what you want done and we’ll—”

  “That’s the main control console for your robots?” I gestured.

  “Yes, but it uses a proprietary system that takes two weeks of training before—”

  I slid on up to it, hacked through the security, peeled open the source code underlying the graphical user interface, grunted in disappointment, and recompiled it to a more efficient operating system. The various robotic arms, wheeled drones, and assembly bots roared to life, as I used them to ferry my suit over the table, and begin work.

  “Um.” The man said, looking a bit lost. “We’re supposed to help you... however...”

  Vorpal patted his shoulder. “Do not worry, friend. You can help us. Club sandwich for me. Cheesesteak for Dire. Yah?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Curly fries with that, too, if you can get them. Fake onion flavoring for the win, hm? Sodas too, just standard Coax or Burpsi. Oh, and no diet, please. Just the hard stuff.”

  He was back in twenty minutes with our order. By then I’d gotten my mask repaired, and was tweaking the operating system for my HUD. I’d had a few ideas after the Morgenstern fight, and wanted to try them out. Ten minutes after that I had the armor repairs going. Most of it I could trust to automation, with only a little light touchwork here and there for delicate repairs. I reinforced the seals around the helmet, to protect against more bio-weapons, but made no other major changes. I’d already made preparations for a kaiju fight, I didn’t need to reconfigure anything major at this point. Didn’t really have time to go experimenting, either.

  At some point I looked up to find a gaggle of technicians and men in camo pants and sheer black shirts watching me go. One of the black-shirts, an attractive young man with a shaved head, nodded at me. “Holy shit, you work fast.”

  “Dire has to. The rest of the world doesn’t wait for her.” I slid a grinder around, started working over the exterior of my mask, removing the scars that Morgenstern had given it.

  “Name’s Vasquez.” He offered a hand and I shook it. Beyond, I saw Vorpal chatting with a woman in black-and-camo, while sharing her club sandwich with her. Oh, right, food. I had probably better eat mine. I looked around for the sandwich, and found it on a nearby table.

  “You did a number on me and my hombres a little while ago.” Vasquez said.

  “Oh? Oh, you’re the armored troopers.”

  “Hooah!” He grinned. I looked at him quizzically. “It’s a military thing,” he said.

  “You certainly fought like military. Did well enough.” I devoured about half the sandwich in one go. Hungrier than I thought. Aftereffect of Morgenstern’s extract? Couldn’t say.

  “Yeah, I thought so but Jesus lady, you’re tough. What’s that thing made out of? I thought I had you with that shiverblade, but it broke like it was nothing.”

  “Oh, you’re the one with the vibroblade.” I looked at his hands. He had both of them. “Glad you didn’t lose fingers when it blew back.”

  “Naw. Our hands aren’t in there, they’re in about the wrists. More protected that way.”

  “At the cost of losing tactile sensation and direct control. Still, not a bad idea.” I’d have to consider that if I went to a heavier suit. Broken fingers hurt like hell. “But no, the armor’s actually not as tough as yours. You’re built to withstand damage, your armor plate’s a little thicker. The key is Dire’s forcefield. It’s activated by extremely fast motions. So when you stuck a fast-moving weapon in there, physics happened.”

  He blinked. “Shit. I’ll remember that for next time, huh?” He punched at my shoulder, and seemed surprised when I twisted aside, and brought a welding torch up between us. “Whoa whoa whoa.” He said, backing off. “Hey, just being friendly.”

  I smiled. “Ah. Her mistake.” I didn’t lower the torch. “But there won’t be a next time. And even if there is, Dire has learned from her fight with you. She’ll adjust to your methods, and will have upgraded her
technology.” Ah, my mask was done. I picked it off, shook the shavings from it, and seated it on my face. It hissed to life, and I relaxed as my display came up again. “NO, IF WE FIGHT AGAIN IT WON’T BE A CONTEST, VASQUEZ. DO REMEMBER THAT, HM?”

  He lost his smile. The rest of the crowd drifted away after that, for some reason, and he with them. Not sure why, but no matter. I finished up repairs with time to spare.

  “That may have been a mistake,” Vorpal said, quietly. “These men will be at your back in a few hours or so.”

  I pushed my mask up. “He was getting overly familiar. Dire’s kayfabe doesn’t permit that, not with minions of other supervillains.”

  “Kayfabe?”

  “Long story. It’s an act. An image.”

  “Ah. So you attempt to inspire fear, instead of camaraderie?”

  I grinned. “Oh, he feared Dire already. His discussion there was his attempt to remove that fear. But now it will remain.”

  “Actually I rather thought he was flirting with you.” Vorpal said, putting her hand over mine. “He does not know you like I do. Did not realize it would not work.”

  I looked at her hand. A glance around showed the lab fairly well cleared out. I pulled my hand free. “Vorpal, she’s going to have to be blunt. Dire is pretty sure she’s not a lesbian.”

  She flushed. “I did not—”

  “Didn’t you?”

  She looked aside, sighed. “I suppose I had some hopes. It has... been difficult. This life is difficult. Hard to meet people when you are always on the move. And most villains I worked with are, well, not good people. Not worth knowing when you are out of the mask. I thought I had found someone I could perhaps share my life with.”

  I’d known that loneliness. She was young, too. Younger than me. But still...

  “You can, Vorpal, but not that way.” I patted her shoulder. “Dire has few enough friends. You have been a good one so far. Is that enough for you?”

  She sighed again. “No, but I suppose I need friends as well. Very well, let us try it for a while.” She smiled. “And if you find any good women who are a bit more open-minded, I wish to meet them.”

  “Deal.” We shook on it.

  She tilted her head to the side as she grasped my hand. “Actually, there is one other thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “My power is strong, but limited. Not very flexible. I have been thinking of including some machines. Perhaps a grapple gun, maybe something like that forcefield. Some stun bombs perhaps, and goggles so I do not stun myself. Things like that. Perhaps you can make them for me?”

  I grinned. “Easy. Hell, that won’t take more than a day or two at worst.”

  “Excuse me, ladies?” It was Jamie again. He looked out of place in that lab, wearing fine formal business attire where everyone else was in lab coats.

  “Yes, Jamie?”

  “We’ve located the target and the contractors have been brought on board. There’s a briefing upstairs and you’re invited.”

  “Of course. One minute.” I pushed my mask down, let it reseal, then stepped up to my armor. “RISE.” I commanded. It did, lurching free of the diagnostic hookups, with clangs and pings as sensors went wide. Around me the lab went silent, as I tapped the back, and slipped through the open hatch. It sealed around me, and my mask slid into position, locking into place around the newly-reinforced seals.

  I was eight feet tall and made of metal again, and oh how I’d missed it so.

  I activated the gravitics, hovered an inch above the ground. “VERY WELL. LEAD THE WAY, JAMIE.”

  “One minute,” Vorpal said, digging in the duffel bag of stuff they’d evidently returned to her at some point. “Here.” She offered me a spare red cape.

  “YOU GRABBED IT?”

  “Martin was going to wash it. It’s a bit stained.”

  Stained or no, it was still my cape. I attached the clasps at my shoulders, and flipped the cowl over my head.

  Good, good.

  A whisper behind me, and I used the armor’s audio to listen in. “—insane bitch, but good god, the specs we’re going to get from her tech! It’ll put us years ahead of Arkayde.”

  It was the tech who’d tried to act patronizing about his equipment.

  “AH YES, ALMOST FORGOT.” I pointed at him. “YOU. IS THE POWER ARMOR IN THIS ROOM READY FOR THE OPERATION?”

  “Uh—” He flinched. “I mean, what?”

  I suppressed a sigh. “IS IT READY FOR FIELD USAGE? NO FURTHER MAINTENANCE OR REPAIR REQUIRED FROM THIS LABORATORY?”

  “No, no, it’s good to go. We took care of that while you worked.”

  “GOOD.” I reached over, and tapped the console I’d reconfigured. It hummed and went dim, as it reformatted, taking all of the networked computers with it, erasing every bit of data on them. “TELL MORGENSTERN THAT IF HE WANTS DIRE’S TECH HE CAN PAY FOR IT.”

  His face went white. I turned my back, and ignored the giggles coming from Vorpal’s direction as we followed Jamie up to the briefing room.

  He took me up by the service elevator, evading the main public parts of the building. It looked like they had sent non-essential personnel home for the day. Smart move after a supervillain attack. Vorpal changed into her costume along the way, and set her own mask in place. Jamie neither looked at her nor commented, not at all bothered by her brief nudity.

  Finally he stopped in front of a pair of heavy oak double-doors, encrusted with gothic imagery; all gargoyles, knights, and dragons. “Through here,” he said. “Captain Vasquez has the briefing.”

  I took a door in either hand, and threw them open, ignoring the booming noise as they hit the wall, rebounded, bounced off my hands again, and finally swung to a stop. Vasquez, at the head of the table, jerked backward and went for a holstered gun before forcing himself to stop.

  Mixed reactions from the rest. I looked down the row of costumed people, and found them wary, but not overly alarmed. None of them were familiar to me.

  Vorpal padded in behind me and took a seat next to a short goth girl wearing a plague doctor’s mask, the leather bird’s beak bobbing as she glanced between me and a black-robed man at the head of the table. His face looked to be half-destroyed, slick muscle and torn skin with bloody bone showing in a few spots. If it bothered him he didn’t seem to care. A scythe stuck out over his back. He had to hunch forward so that he fit in the seat, with that weapon harnessed to him.

  Beside Black Robes, sat a man clad in burlap sackcloth with a skull mask. He stared at me without moving in the slightest. He wore fingerbones in a necklace around his throat. Across from him was a woman with incredibly white skin, with the occasional blue vein standing out. She wore blue, round sunglasses, black slacks, and a black shirt, with a black duster currently folded over an empty chair to her left. She had a round, flat, wide-brimmed hat on over short-cropped white hair. And at the very end of the table, sat a man in grungy, muddy overalls, wearing a high-peaked hat, with a shovel leaning next to him. He wore no mask, but his face was so dirty that I couldn’t make out anything more than broad features.

  “VASQUEZ.” I said. “BRIEF DIRE.”

  “Uh. Yeah, okay. We were waiting on you.”

  “YOU WASTE TIME WITH THE OBVIOUS.”

  The Goth girl’s beak bobbed toward Vorpal. “Jeeze. Vader much?” She whispered. Vorpal shot her a look, and I stifled a giggle.

  “Right.” Vasquez said, pulling out a remote mouse, and starting up a series of slides through the overhead projector. “So we went looking on that frequency you told us, and an hour later, we found the tracker.”

  A map of Icon City zoomed in to a large, oblong body of water surrounded by woodland. Lake Silence.

  “That’s not far from the original ambush,” Vorpal said. I nodded. No wonder the kaiju had been so fast to react after the truck had blown up.

  “We narrowed it down to this cluster of cabins here. It looks like someone rented out the entire cluster for a week.” The map tracked down from above, zoomin
g in more to show a group of remote, somewhat grungy cabins surrounded by thick vegetation. A black van sat parked by the side of a gravel road. The nearest neighbors looked to be a couple of miles away. The cabins lurked on a slight hill, with a good view of the surrounding area. The place didn’t seem to have a beach, just a single overgrown dock that had seen better days. Overgrown? Some of those vines looked familiar.

  “HOW RECENT IS THIS IMAGE?”

  “It’s satellite. A few hours.”

  “THERE’S A PLANT KAIJU UNDER THE DOCK.”

  Black Robes turned his ruined face to me. “That what we’re up against?” He rasped.

  “SEVERAL OF THOSE.”

  The white woman steepled her fingers. “Any relation to that thing that went rampaging around the wharf last night?”

  “THE SAME CREATURE. SIZE MAY VARY FROM BEAST TO BEAST.”

  “How many is several?” Black robes asked.

  “UNDETERMINED. AT LEAST TWO, PROBABLY THREE OR MORE.”

  Vasquez cleared his throat. “There’s also a humanoid mutant.” He tapped the mouse, and brought up pictures of Chaingang. Amusingly enough they had a shot of him getting tacos from a local Mexican place, looking pleased as he spoke into a cell phone while balancing several large bags of Mexican food.

  “I thought he was way too eager to break that phone,” Vorpal muttered. “Should have known he’d have a spare.”

  “Capabilities?” Black Robes asked.

  “HE’S A DUPLICATOR. SPAWNS COPIES OF HIMSELF THAT CAN SPAWN OTHERS, ALL HOOKED TOGETHER BY SOMETHING LIKE UMBILICAL CORDS. ALSO STRONGER AND TOUGHER THAN A NORMAL HUMAN, BUT IT’S HARD TO SAY HOW MUCH.” He’d given us a rough benchmark, but odds were good he’d been lying there.

  “Duplicator,” said Black Robes. What was left of his lips smiled. “Deadweight, we’ll try you on that. Take Whippoorwill just in case. Rest of us’ll help with the giant plant things.”

  “Hey! I could try singing to them.” Goth girl said, putting her elbows on the table.

  Black Robes shook his head. “Plants don’t have ears.”

  “Maybe it’s like corn monsters! Then they’d be nothing but ears!” She protested. “Didn’t think of that, did you, smarty robe?”