She grabbed the first string of matted hair and held it out in front of her. “And you're sure the Hive is the best place for us? Like, everyone is the same person. They're all connected. One mind. How are we supposed to hide from that?”
“Not everyone is connected. They have tourists, just like anywhere else. In order to be a citizen you have to join them, but I don't plan on doing that anytime soon.”
She bit her lip as the scissors sliced through the first of many dreadlocks. She held it in her hand for a moment before dropping it to the floor like a sacrificial offering.
“Can you imagine joining them? What kind of person does that? They just like... give up control. And who even started the whole thing? Is there someone somewhere controlling all of them?”
Connor shrugged and closed his eyes so he didn't have to watch the slaughter of his hair in the mirror. “I guess so. But the Alliance isn't even sure the original is alive anymore. They think their consciousness just keeps on living in the minds of all the citizens. Or maybe it's like... a collective. An amalgam of everyone who joined. Maybe everyone is a tiny piece of the whole.”
The way he talked about it made it almost sound nice. The ultimate community. Everyone is equal. But that thought fluttered away quickly. The idea of becoming a mindless drone sent shivers down her body.
“But it's all voluntary, right? They can't just take over our mind?”
“Supposedly. But either way, they have to look you in the eyes. So just make sure to keep your sunglasses on and you should be good.”
“'Should be good.' That doesn't fill me with a lot of confidence, Connor. Like... upside is you're right and the sunglasses work. Downside is I become a slave to the Hive.”
He chuckled. “Just trust me. They don't want slaves. The Hive members I've met actually seem pretty altruistic. They really believe in what they're doing.”
“Yeah, well, I'm sure the Zharkovs really believe in what they're doing. And I'm sure King Krieg believed in what he was doing when he tried to conquer Europe in World War 2. And I'm sure-”
“Lucy. You're being paranoid.”
“Connor, we're living in rat-infested motels, on the run from the Alliance and the Zharkovs, about to try to cross the border into a domain full of mind controlled people. I think a little paranoia might be healthy. Like... I have eyes that can see for miles. You don't think that could be useful to a group of people that use eyes to take control of your mind?”
Connor paused, as if he were considering this fact for the first time, but then dismissed it. “Look, we'll only be in the Hive for a short time. Once we find a way to book travel to Gaia, we'll be safe.”
She smiled a bit as she cut off yet another of his dreadlocks. She knew it was his dream, to live in Gaia. A domain covered in plants that would welcome someone with his powers. As she snipped off another of his dreadlocks, she was distracted by the blaring television. A fire on the western side of the American Homelands had already burned nearly four hundred acres. Mermaid could be seen in a video trying to help the civilian firefighters. Lucy watched the old woman flying high above the trees, her white hair blowing in the wind, face covered in ash, embers swirling around her. She looked majestic. Like a goddess. Like a superhero.
“You miss it, don't you?” Connor asked when he noticed her distraction.
Lucy snapped out of her gaze. “No. I mean, sometimes maybe. But not really.”
“Come on, Lucy. That was everything you ever wanted. To be a superhero. Of course you miss it.”
A smile curled on one side of her lips. “It was everything I ever wanted... until I met you.”
“Ugh. Don't say that.”
Lucy stopped, confused by his reaction. “What? Why not?”
He stood and pulled off the towel from around his shoulders. “Because, Lucy, I feel guilty enough.”
“Guilty? What do you have to feel guilty about?”
He shook his head and rubbed his eyes in the palm of his hand. “If it weren't for me, you'd still be there. You'd still have everything you dreamed of as a little girl. You'd still be a superhero in a shiny tower, saving lives, instead of... this.”
“Wow. Someone has some selective memory.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
She let out a sigh. Her memories of Hero Tower weren't exactly something she wanted to ruminate on. In fact, most of the time she found herself trying to forget what she had done. All that time spent trying to tell herself that what she was doing was for the greater good disgusted her. What had she accomplished? Nothing. The war still raged on, possibly worse than before. She had angered Neo-Nippon by helping the Alliance murder the pregnant wife of the Dominus. Trying to forget that wasn't going to accomplish anything. All she could do now was move forward and try to be a better person. She had to remember who she was before Spook and the Shadow Department tried to twist her into a murderer.
“Connor, I know the dreams I had of superheroes were idealistic fantasies. Those people in that shiny tower? They're trying to kill our baby. They aren't heroes. At best, they're Zharkovian weapons. They take lives to save lives and throw morality out the window.” She walked over to him and poked him in the chest. “You didn't do anything to me that I didn't want you to do. We made the choice to have this baby.”
Connor rubbed his face again. “You're right. Of course you're right. I just... this isn't what I pictured our lives would be like, you know? I want to give you and our child the best life I can. Not disgusting motels. Not days of looking over our shoulders.”
Lucy reached up and cupped his cheek in the palm of her hand. “And we'll have that. But we have to work for it. Happiness doesn't come easy. Not in this world.”
Connor nodded, reluctantly accepting the truth in her words.
“Now come on,” she said, pulling him back over to the chair. “Let me cut the rest of those off your head. You look ridiculous.”
With his gentle smile, he retook his place in the chair and patiently allowed her to finish his haircut. When she was done, he looked in the mirror and ran his hand over his closely cut hair.
“I feel... lighter.”
“You probably are.”
She couldn't help admiring how good he looked, even with his new style. With his cheekbones, she was pretty sure he could pull off any look.
When she glanced past him and saw her own reflection, it shocked her. She wasn't sure she'd ever get used to her jet black hair, cut so sharply, from short in the back to long in the front. She was sure it would look cool on someone tough, someone stylish, but those terms never felt like they belonged to her. She may be able to hit a moving target from a thousand yards, and she may have helped assassinate a Domina, but a part of her still felt like that awkward girl, running through the halls of the Academy, trying not to make eye contact with anyone older or taller or more popular.
She touched her belly, running her fingers over the bump that seemed to grow larger every day. How could she feel so incompetent, so tiny and insignificant, when she was carrying a life inside of her? Perhaps that was part of the problem. She had stopped caring about herself. All that mattered now was the baby and Connor. Her family was more important to her than she thought anything could be in her life. Certainly more important than super powers and politics and secret military organizations and costumes and royal families and...
She sat down on the edge of the bed, the springs inside squeaking under her weight, and let a smile lay gently across her lips. Sometimes she forgot how simple things were now, compared to before. She might be on the run, she might be preparing to illegally cross a border, and she might be carrying a baby that the world wants dead. But for the most part, all there was in her life existed in that tiny, disgusting motel room. It wasn't complicated. There was no gray area to debate and discuss. Her feelings and motivations felt straightforward. Justified. Pure.
“The sun is almost down,” Connor said, peeking between the curtains, toward the western horizon. “We should ge
t moving. We still need to ditch the car before we cross over. And we have a lot of ground to cover if we want to be in civilization before sunrise.”
Lucy looked up at him and said, “I love you.”
He glanced back at her and asked, “Forever and ever?”
She nodded and softly hugged her own belly. “Forever and ever.”
4
ANDRE
After the food dispenser poured cornflakes into his bowl, he opened the fridge and retrieved a half-gallon of milk. He poured it over the top of the flakes and then shoved his spoon deep into the crispy breakfast.
“Linus? Please play some music.”
There was a chime of recognition from the lair's computer, and a snooty British voice replied, “Any particular preference?”
Andre shoveled the cornflakes into his mouth and mumbled through the food, “Not really.”
Suddenly blaring guitars, rapid fire drums, and monstrous vocals boomed out of the speakers in every room. Andre nearly dropped his bowl of cereal to cover his ears.
“Linus!”
The music stopped and the computer asked, “Is there a problem, sir?”
“What the hell was that?”
“Maggot Corpse, sir. A popular death metal band from the area of the Fatherlands once known as Sweden.”
“Linus... it's 7:30 am.”
“I asked you for a preference, sir. You gave me nothing to work with.”
Andre sighed. He had gotten used to the preprogrammed condescension of the lair's computer, possibly even growing to find it charming, but it could still drive him crazy sometimes. He wondered if Doctor Chem had even noticed the voice's attitude, or if it was just an extension of his own personality. The old man certainly didn't have any charisma to spare.
“Just search for something softer, please.”
The soothing croon of a trumpet echoed through the hallways as Andre stepped out of the kitchen, carrying his bowl of cereal with him as he walked. The lair was feeling like home to him now. He knew the nooks and crannies, and he had even used some of the money he found stored there to buy a few items that made it feel more like his own.
It was a fascinating feeling, walking through a place like that. He felt both a sense of accomplishment, and an anxiousness to begin. He had succeeded in one of his major goals, the acquisition of a base of operations, and the size and scope of it had surpassed most of his wildest dreams, but he hadn't made a name for himself yet. He hadn't pulled off his big score, and the failures he had endured were nearly life shattering.
He paused by the doorway to the laboratory. He kept the lights on in there all the time, just in case. He still had no idea what had happened to Mickey. The speed he had reached was inconceivable, but where his physical form had raced off to, Andre still wasn't sure. It had been months since he had vanished, but Andre still expected him to return any day. He couldn't have just disappeared, unless the speed his body was moving at had torn him apart on a molecular level... but that was too horrifying of a reality to accept. Impossible to believe. Not after what had happened to Victor, or even Carmen. Andre wasn't prepared to lose another friend in his pursuit of supervillainy.
There were a few moments where Andre could have sworn he saw Mickey. It was only a flash, a blink of an eye, where Mickey would be sitting across from him at the table. Those hallucinations had made Andre worried that maybe he was spending too much time alone in the lair. But he also knew he needed to be ready before he made his first appearance. Even though the power that coursed through his body felt unmatched, like nothing could hurt him, his newfound abilities were just that... new. And he was determined to train until they felt second nature to him. His overconfidence had gotten him into trouble before, and even though he felt invincible, he knew there was no such thing. If the Zharkovs could die, then anyone could die.
Andre stepped in front of the training room door, set the empty bowl on the floor, and said, “Linus? Could you please load scenario seven?”
“Difficulty rating?”
“Let's bump it up to nine today.”
“Of course, sir. I shall enjoy trying to murder you again.”
The door slid open, revealing a large metal room. The walls had no discernible markings of any kind, other than a series of hatches and doorways that covered nearly every inch of them. When Andre stepped into the center of the room, the lights dimmed until he was standing in blackness.
“Loading scenario seven.”
When the lights came back on, Andre was standing in a holographic jungle. Beams of sunlight broke through the canopy of leaves overhead. The temperature was hot and humid, causing beads of sweat to raise on his skin. The screeches of monkeys could be heard from the trees in the distance. Flocks of birds erupted from the foliage as he walked forward.
Andre smiled. The training room was better than any video game. Whoever designed it for Doctor Chem could have made a fortune selling the same technology to military contractors, but who knows what Doctor Chem did to the people that saw the inside of his secret lair.
Suddenly a humanoid-shaped robot leaped out from the bushes with a spear in his hand. The tip of the spear struck Andre's chest, splintering into tiny pieces like it had just struck a stone wall. Andre backhanded the robot and it exploded into shrapnel. Another robot dropped down from the trees with a net. The weighted ropes dropped over him, but with a slight tug, he tore the net open and lunged at the robot. It threw a left jab at him, but its hand crumpled under the impact. Andre felt nothing. His palm slammed into the robot's chest and the mechanical creature exploded.
Five more robots appeared around him, circling with spears and shields, but they only lasted a few seconds. Andre wasn't only stronger and more resilient now, he was faster too.
A series of buzz saws came flying through the trees, slicing off branches as they did. They were at knee height, and even though Andre was fairly sure they would shatter upon impact against his invulnerable skin, he knew relying on that was just lazy. And foolish. What if they were diamond-tipped? Did he know diamonds couldn't pierce his skin? He had to be smart. Reactive and proactive at the same time. This would be his advantage.
He leaped into the air, forgetting his own strength for a moment and launching himself higher than he intended. A holographic grid appeared in the sky as he crested over the treetops, letting him know he had actually reached the ceiling of the room he was in. He put his hands up in time and crashed into the metal plating with his palms.
As he was dropping, he saw the source of the buzz saws. A strange mechanical vehicle plowed through the jungle, running its tank tread over the top of anything that stood in its way. Tree trunks toppled over, spitting out the other end as shredded wood.
Andre aimed his descent for the vehicle, landing directly in front of it. As soon as he crushed the jungle floor under his feet, the vehicle launched another buzz saw from a flat slot on the front. Andre ducked this time, feeling the whirling blade go flying over the top of his head. He launched himself again, this time calculating his strength and arc so that he would land atop the vehicle. Gatling guns spit out bullets at him from either side of the machine, pounding round after round against his chest as he flew through the air. When his feet crashed into the roof of the vehicle, it bent underneath him, its tank tread helplessly digging into the ground, trying to move but failing. He slammed his fists into the armored shell, over and over again, punching holes straight through the metal. His hands reached in, grabbing onto the broken defensive plating, and pulled. With a horrible wrenching sound, the top of the vehicle was torn free, and Andre tossed it to the side. Inside the vehicle sat three robots, operating different stations. Andre tore them apart within seconds.
As soon as he dropped the last robot head onto the jungle floor, the lights dimmed into blackness. When they returned, the room was an empty metal box again.
“Congratulations, sir. Another successful victory over mindless robots.”
Andre wiped the dripping sweat from his br
ow. “Yeah. Thanks, Linus.”
“Shall I prepare another scenario?”
“Not right now. I want you to run the standard morning media search.”
“Yes, sir. Searching for mentions of Carmen Zharkov.”
The name turned Andre's stomach every time he heard it. He thought maybe it would dull over time, but it still hurt. It still disgusted him, picturing her life with those royal monsters. He tried not to imagine that beast of a man they called her husband, climbing on top of her, trying to produce an heir for a dying family, but it was hopeless. Every time he heard the name Zharkov, he saw his friend, his ex-lover, a victim.
When he stepped out into the hallway, a small robot was picking up his cereal bowl from the floor. It beeped at him, and then zoomed away, into a tiny door along the wall. The lair was self-sufficient in a way he still didn't comprehend, but Doctor Chem had designed it so well, he didn't need to understand it. It just worked.
When Andre stepped into the media room, the lights warmed to a soft glow and the television blinked to life. He grabbed the cup of coffee on the counter, already made for him with the exact amount of cream and sugar he preferred, and sat down on the leather couch. He took a sip from the cup, but almost spit it out when he looked up at the screen.
“Maksim Zharkov, the Warhammer, and his lovely wife, Carmen Zharkov, have used this opportunity to show off her royal baby bump, which has caused quite the stir among the Empire, as some have feared what the loss of heirs could mean for the imperial family.”
The voice-over on the screen continued as the couple waved to the crowds. “Citizens of the Fatherlands will have a personal opportunity to see the expectant mother as the couple plans to travel with the Imperial Funeral Procession to five major cities.”
The coffee cup shattered in Andre's hand as he watched Carmen smile up at the giant, armored man next to her. Maksim leaned down and placed a small kiss on her lips. Her eyes twinkled a bit as she stared up at him.
It was impossible. She was acting. She had to be. Maksim's face still held the scar she had placed there with her burning fist, to save Andre. And as punishment, they made her marry a Zharkov. They probably threatened her before she stepped onto the stage.
Fear the Empire Page 3
