by Scott Mathy
Fitting the limb was painlessly easy. It slid into its sheath without protest, no catch or force needed, yet it locked firmly. The release could only trigger at Dwight’s mental command. When separated, it remained wirelessly active, able to be moved with the same thoughts that he used when it was attached.
She walked him through the other features built into the limb. “You’ve got three storage compartments of varying size. Anything from a caplet to a light pistol can be kept ready. They’re also shielded; absolutely no one is going to detect what you’re hiding in there.”
He liked the idea; a quick-release pistol might have saved him from his near-death experience.
She pointed to a nearby screen displaying the technical specs of his new prosthetic. “Your knuckles are charged to deliver a 50,000 volt shock with a punch; the equivalent of a power line. Even most Powers aren’t going to stand up after that. You should have enough juice for about ten uses before you need to replace the battery. I’ve put some spare ones in the care package I’m sending you home with, but don’t go through them too quickly; they aren’t cheap to make.”
Despite her warning, Dwight decided he should test the system for himself. A field of arcing electricity surged between the plates as he flexed his fist. The intense light stung his eyes. As he extended a prolonged jab, the conductors fired, throwing sparks across the lab. He quickly disengaged the weapon.
Ellis looked annoyed. “Yes, that’s very impressive,” she said dryly, “Now stop wasting my resources and let’s get this done.”
“Sorry,” Dwight said, blushing at her chastising.
She pointed to the technical blueprints on the monitor. “The unit has one other feature: a last resort option.”
Dwight had been anticipating this one, “Like the laser, right?”
“No, not like my laser.” She was frustrated. “That was a one-of-a-kind prototype. I hadn’t even had the chance to document the process I used to create it. I only sent it with you to test its durability. I wasn’t expecting you to need it.”
Dwight gave a slight shrug and a smile, “At least it was an option?” Though he wished it hadn’t come at the cost of his arm, he was thankful that she had trusted him with it.
“Don’t think for a second I’m not taking the money Wulf gave you to cover the costs of my laser and your new appendage. I already sent him the bill for the rest of my services.”
The Doc didn’t joke about money. Dwight imagined Wulf’s accountant would inform him of the charges, then run for his life. He’d flee the country soon after. There would be three ill-tempered Associates awaiting his plane’s arrival.
She pointed to the screen, “You have a small injector fitted in the section that connects the new arm to the bone. It’s a compound I’ve been working on for a while. Think of it like an empowered version of an epinephrine shot.”
“You made super-adrenaline?” Dwight was already daydreaming of the drug label warnings. He hadn’t ruled out the possibility of “May cause chest explosions, instant and permanent blindness, and spontaneous gravitational failure.”
“There’s something in most Powers that grants them their abilities; I believe I’ve isolated the hormone, and have been able to turn it into a temporary booster.” With a few taps of her tablet, a small video appeared. The recording showed three lab mice in their tiny cages.
“If this is about to get messy, I really don’t have the stomach for it.” Dwight knew how these kinds of videos tended to end.
She shook her head, “We archived those early trials. I wanted to show you a successful run.”
In the video, her hand descended into the enclosure and lifted one of the rodents. Using a complex syringe, she injected the creature with its deep purple contents. Replacing the mouse, she closed the cage. A moment later, the creature began convulsing violently.
“What did I say about exploding rats?” Dwight prepared to look away.
The shaking stopped. The animal crawled up to the bars, and with one of its tiny paws, tore through the metal and freed itself. Its next trick was to defy gravity as it began levitating. The mouse rose steadily, and drifted off-camera.
Dwight raised an eyebrow to the Doc, “You gave it flight?” His mind immediately went to Ellis at the head of a pack of flying, superpowered woodland creatures.
“I didn’t give it anything. I have no control over what kinds of abilities the serum unlocks, but I will say that the aftereffects are pretty horrible. Even after I got her down, she needed some pretty serious medical care. Dehydration, seizures, hypothermia – anything is possible with this stuff. It’s unstable at best, potentially lethal without treatment.”
Dwight considered the toxin already hidden in his new arm. “Then why are you giving it to me, if you don’t want me using it?”
“Because it might be the only thing I can give you that saves you from one of them.” The Doc’s expression was one of genuine concern, her usual scientific wonder forgotten. “Honestly, Dwight, none of this should be necessary. You shouldn’t be going toe-to-toe with a Power; they’re too dangerous.”
He wished he had another option, “Wulf isn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer. I’m amazed he let me take as long as I have.”
“You’re still not completely healed. You can’t just go back to work.” She put the bag of his supplies on the workbench. “I called Ian and told him to come get you tomorrow, but I don’t want to see you back at it for at least a month.”
“I’ve already been out a month. I can’t afford another vacation.” He was serious; the costs of even his rather low standard of living were undeniably adding up daily.
The Doc reached for the phone in her ripped lab coat’s pocket. She punched in a few lightning-fast sequences. “I just transferred seven-thousand dollars into your personal account. You’re going to give me one full week before you go and pick a fight with anyone who has even the weakest superpowers.” The look on her face was one of absolute authority. Even without the generous donation, he wasn’t going to question her orders.
He held his hands up in surrender, “Okay, okay. No jobs for a week.” He started back toward the recovery room. As he opened the door, an idea formed in his head. “What about empowered children?” he asked. “Can I beat up a super eight-year-old?”
Ellis ignored the joke, already back to whatever world-changing technology she was toying with. “Get out of my lab. If you break that arm, I’m not making you another one until I get my money back.”
Nine
The next day, as promised, Ian arrived to take Dwight home. Despite Ellis’s expressed permission, Dwight decided it would be best if his roommate didn’t come into the Doc’s workshop again. The last thing he needed was Ian getting swept up in Ellis’s super-science. He couldn’t deal with the thought of volatile experiments being added to the long list of hazards in their tiny apartment. Instead, he waited outside for his roommate to pick him up.
Sitting atop a shipping crate casually abandoned outside of the heavy steel door, he repeatedly flexed his new fingers, testing their mobility. Ellis did good work. The replacement digits were just as capable as his old ones had been. There was even a level of feedback built into the mesh outer layer of the limb, giving him a sensation of touch only slightly diminished from the real thing. Before he left, she had shown him how to engage the safety features of the arm as well; activating its shock pads now required a conscious effort, leaving no chance of randomly electrified fist-bumps.
Ian pulled up in his shoddy, russet sedan and got out to greet him. Circling around the vehicle, Dwight could already tell his roommate was emotional about their reunion. Dwight extended his arm for a handshake that Ian pushed right through. He had never been a touchy kind of person, but it seemed Ian was. He hugged Dwight tightly. In his embarrassment, Dwight returned a light pat on the back with his human arm, then attempted to take a step away. Ian clung on. It was becoming painfully clear that he had been missed.
“Easy there; I’m stil
l healing.” Dwight said, uncomfortably freeing himself from Ian’s bear hug.
Ian straightened himself out. “Sorry, Dwight, I’m just really glad you’re alright.” He sniffed as he talked. Dwight allowed himself a slight chuckle at his roommate’s overwhelming empathy.
Ian’s eyes went to the new synthetic attached at Dwight’s elbow. “You got really messed up, huh?”
Dwight flexed the limb to show off its range of motion. “There wasn’t any saving the last one. Lucky me, I have one hell of a medical plan.” He didn’t mention that he would be paying for it, one way or another.
Ian took a closer look at the Doctor’s work. “So, you’re a cyborg now. It have any cool features?” Ian was obviously trying to find some buried similarity between Dwight and his idols. Even state-of-the-art super tech wouldn’t make Dwight a Cape. As far as he was concerned, his “normal” was a permanent affliction.
“Not really; it’s just supposed to do what ol’ righty’s best for.” He lied; there was no reason to tell him about the flashy electrified knuckles or the serum hidden inside. If Ian knew that there was a way to temporarily be a superhuman, he’d likely claw through Dwight’s arm to get it.
“Come on, let’s get something to eat,” he suggested, trying to change the subject. Ian seemed all too happy to oblige.
As they drove back to their neighborhood, Dwight took stock of the city streets. Something was different. During the course of their twenty minute drive, he noticed no fewer than ten Capes doing overhead patrols, their bright costumes trailing through the sky. A handful more stood watch on the corners of the major intersections they traversed. He had never seen so many Capes out during the day, so many Powers out policing the streets. Their enhanced eyes surveyed the crowds. They were hunting.
“What’s going on? Did something happen while I was gone?” he asked, concerned his next job would require far more caution than he was accustomed to.
Ian wasn’t surprised by the question, “You did, Dwight. The Guild put a bounty on the guy that took out Killstreak and Quickkill. Every hero in New Haven wants to bring in the vigilante before he hurts anyone else.”
“Shit,” Dwight thought. Not only had Ian figured out what he did for a living, but the entire city of Capes was hunting him. For the briefest moment, he debated whether he could trust the man he was riding with. Had Ian really wanted the bounty, all he would need to do was pull over and get the nearest Cape to take him in. Dwight was suddenly very appreciative of Ian’s ideas of friendship and loyalty. He would need to start cutting his weird, nerdy roommate some slack.
Ian started again slowly, “Look, Dwight, what you do-”
Dwight cut him off, “What I do is clean house for a bunch of immature gods. I work for bad people who have a very twisted sense of duty to the normals who actually wouldn’t want their protection.” He almost expected Ian to go through with turning him in after that.
“No, I get it.” They pulled over in front of the Welcome. “Someone has to stop the ones who can’t control themselves. If the cops, the courts, and the heroes won’t do it, who will?”
Dwight recognized Ian’s confusion. “No, Ian, you don’t get it. I’m not some avenger. I’m not doing this because I want people to be safe.” He felt ashamed admitting it, but the words came regardless of his desire to lie to himself, “I’m a hitman; a killer. I kill Capes because a sick man in a high tower pays me to.”
Ian sat in silence for a moment. “You really believe that?” Ian clearly thought more of Dwight than he did.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t getting paid for it.” Dwight’s confession had pushed his self-awareness into overdrive.
“Well, of course you wouldn’t. You’re not a maniac. The money would have to be good to make anyone want to do what you do.” Ian had a look of amused doubt. “Your big friend, he might be doing this because he enjoys it, but that isn’t you. Deep down, you know this is important. Whether or not you’re getting paid for it is just a bonus. We all need jobs.”
Dwight hadn’t even considered that someone might try to justify his work as anything other than cold-blooded vigilantism if he was ever caught. It was actually relieving to have it out in the open with Ian. “You’re really okay with this?” he asked, unsure of what response he was hoping to get.
Ian thought briefly, “I think so. There are Capes out there who won’t control themselves and don’t care what happens to us. I’ve had this gnawing fear of them ever since your ex grabbed you. None of us could have stopped her, even if we had seen her coming. She could have killed anyone on that street with a flick of her wrist.”
Ian had not realized that Bernard used to be one of those powers he was rallying against. Dwight wondered what he would think, and whether he would be able to figure out who the giant had been before his abilities had faded. If anyone could solve the mystery, it would be Ian. His encyclopedic knowledge of the empowered world might more useful now that Dwight didn’t have to dance around what he was doing with the information.
Dwight decided to get a few facts straight before they became a problem, “Just so we’re clear, this stays between the two of us, and I don’t want you with me on a job. If anything goes wrong again, I can’t promise I could keep you safe.” Ian nodded along as he kept talking.
“If anyone ever comes to the apartment looking for me, unless I told you to expect them, I don’t live there, and we have never met. If I disappear one day, don’t look for me; don’t ask about me. Assume I’m not coming back if you haven’t seen me for a week.”
“You mean like what just happened?” he asked.
Dwight corrected himself, “Someone will let you know if I’m alright. The Doc and B know who you are and will see to it. If I’m alive, they’ll tell you. If I’m just hiding out, I’ll find a way to let you know.”
Ian nodded reluctantly. “I get it. You can stop.” He opened the car door and stepped out. Dwight sighed, realizing that his last three meals had been from this diner. His theory that this was the only place Ian frequented was gaining traction.
Dwight checked the skies before he got out of the car. The last thing he wanted right now was to be carried away by Linda again and forced to spend an afternoon dealing with the consequences of his extended absence. Seeing that at least the immediate vicinity was clear, he hurried the few feet to the diner’s entrance and ducked inside.
Seating themselves in the same booth as the last time, he felt relieved that it seemed she wasn’t searching as diligently as he had initially feared. The way Ellis had made it sound, she had been in a full rotation of his usual stops for days after his disappearance.
They placed their orders and conversed casually for a few minutes while they waited. Ian shared all the latest drama from the Cape tabloids while Dwight quietly listened. If nothing else, it gave him a chance to play a game of guessing who might end up in his next briefcase. Their food arrived just as Ian was recounting something about Transistor being sent to Mission City for starting a fight with Void of the Alpha Guard. He abruptly ceased his retelling to tear into his greasy sandwich the moment it hit the table.
As the two of them ate, another visitor suddenly sat down beside Ian. The sleek, white suit seemed out of place as it slid smoothly into the booth. Wulf turned to Ian first, grinning widely inches from the man’s stuffed face. “Is this seat taken?” he asked.
Ian looked like he was about to soil himself as he audibly swallowed the mouthful. He may have, for all Dwight knew, or he may have been too terrified for even that. He simply sat frozen in the physical presence of the Tyrant of New Haven.
Wulf gave up waiting after a few moments of watching Ian’s reaction to his introduction. The grin washed away to skeptical boredom. “I’ll take that to mean ‘Yes, why don’t you take this seat? I’d also love it if you didn’t hurt me.’ I get that one quite often. I’ll take your request under consideration.” He turned to Dwight, “Hey champ, how’re things?”
Internally, Dwight
felt he shouldn’t be surprised that Wulf came to see him immediately after he left Ellis’s care. What he hadn’t expected was to see the man in a casual diner in midtown. It would have been almost funny to think of a monster like Wulf eating here, but nothing with Wulf was ever funny; his persona didn’t allow for it. Instead, there was a feeling of violation, an unwelcome intrusion on his reintroduction to the world.
Wulf pointed to Dwight’s right hand, “That’s a pretty little toy you have there. The Doctor sent me a hell of a bill for that. I trust I’ll get my money’s worth for it?”
“I’m not going to run off, if that’s what you’re asking. You’ll be the first to know when I’m ready to work again.” Dwight was beginning to think that the replacement was going to be a liability to his anonymity. Was this what it was like to have any kind of visible power, that it became what defined you?
Wulf slipped back into his hostile charm. “Good, you know how much I value what you do for this city.” His attention returned to Ian, who was struggling as hard as he could to turn invisible. Unfortunately, Ian would never have this superpower, and Wulf was still very much able to notice the terrified programmer beside him. “Who the fuck is this?” he asked, grabbing a piece of lettuce from Ian’s plate.
Dwight was intrigued that for all the research Wulf did on his employees, all the stalking and record-keeping, he had no idea who his roommate was. Perhaps Ian had some sort of amazing power after all.
“Mr. Wulf, this is my friend, Ian. He lives in the same building as me.” Ian gazed up from his cowering at the use of the word “friend.” This was perhaps the first time anyone had willingly bestowed the title on him in his adult life.
