by Matt Carter
“You forced good men to kill a good man. Someone they respected.”
“You mean Quentin Julian.” Milgram nods. “People always harbor a particular resentment toward those who’ve helped them. A polite sense of obligation usually holds any acts of retribution at bay, but we never truly forgive being saddled with that obligation in the first place. Julian obligated a lot of people in his life, and when I lifted that obligation from a few of their minds, when I allowed them to exact their revenge for it and leave the responsibility to me, they jumped at the opportunity.”
“Quentin helped people because he could,” I say. “Because he cared. He never asked anyone for anything in return.”
“But he could have,” says Milgram. “You understand? That was the cruelty of Julian’s lifestyle. Everyone who knew him had to live with knowing that if he were ever to ask them for a favor, they would have to grant it.”
“Like people are totally free to say no to you.” I yank against my restraints with a futile desperation that wobbles my chair.
“When I indebt someone, I always offer them ample opportunities to equalize our relationship,” he continues. “Julian never allowed anyone that relief. Do you see yourself in him, Miss Kline? Does it bother you to realize how many people’s hatred you’ve personally earned, under the pretense of their gratitude?”
I’m suddenly a different kind of furious than I have been since waking up to this twisted intervention, not with these conspirators who want my cooperation to rob innocent people of what little they have, but with everyone else I’ve ever met, because I don’t understand what they want from me.
I have that feeling again that I had in the sanitarium, the feeling that something’s very wrong with me, that I can’t trust my own feelings and urgently need someone else to tell me what to do, and I realize Milgram’s power is already taking effect. There are important parts of me missing, or inaccessible.
As soon as I get out of this chair, I’m going to set fire to the curtains.
I make this decision on the spot, trying not to think too much about why. It’s just what I’m going to do, the first thing I’m going to do, no matter what else I do afterward.
“Does it bother you that you’d be just as easy to send a mob against as he was?” asks Milgram.
I don’t answer. I can’t answer. I can’t speak, because I can’t think. I won’t know what I’m talking about and everything will come out wrong.
Milgram observes this and nods to himself, as if checking off a symptom on a mental clipboard.
“This is what’s going to happen. You’re going to go home to Juniors Ranch. You’re going to find each one of the ignorant kids who co-enabled your bubblegum heroism and then wrote you off so easily to avoid having to grow up with you, and you will slaughter them, quietly, in their sleep.”
His voice is like a dripping tap, a harmless and delicate sound that grows in my ears until it’s all I can hear, though I know its volume and rhythm haven’t changed. I picture my friends in their beds, content without me and smugly satisfied with another day’s work protecting photogenic people who barely need them. The tears begin to run down my cheeks because I can already feel their necks snapping in my hands when my strength returns, and I know that I’m going to do this, because I’m so angry, so angry, but mostly because I need this dripping in my head to stop.
The tears make it impossible to breathe through my nose, and the air makes a wet, sobbing shudder through my mouth. Card closes his eyes and rocks into the sound like the crescendo of a goosebump-worthy symphony, then places his hand on my thigh and leaves it there.
Milgram doesn’t comment, and I lack the power or wherewithal to respond with anything but more tears. I don’t know why I’m surprised.
Why am I surprised?
“You will then report back here, at which point you will have two options,” Milgram continues. “Either Solar Flare will publically swear vengeance on the WPC street villains who murdered her former teammates, and proceed to fight for that vengeance in precisely and exclusively the ways we tell her to, or she will be exposed and discredited for turning supervillain herself and killed in the Guardians’ heroic attempt to apprehend her, and the devastated but innocent Erickson-Kline family will be forced to find a new heir after all. Do you understand the opportunity you’re being offered?”
I try several times before I vocalize audibly.
“Is it … is it … is it the same opportunity you offered the rest of my family?”
“No,” says Milgram softly. “No, it’s not. You can’t build an empire one hard sell at a time. I prefer to align myself with like-minded people whose loyalty comes easily. Believe me, I would never bother with such a cheap last resort if it weren’t so important to your uncle to try and salvage you. Imagine, if you’d had a brother or a cousin, we wouldn’t be in this uncomfortable situation. We could have been negotiating with him right now, while you partied your way across Europe with all the exotic boy toys you could handle, free from any particular purpose or expectations. What do you think, Miss Kline? Would you have preferred it that way?”
I think I’m drowning, one droplet at a time, in my sinuses and in my brain.
I think the Juniors are continuing to breathe for too long.
I think Card’s hand is holding on so hard that my leg is bruising, and I can’t remember what I’m supposed to be doing.
Someone needs to tell me.
Milgram doesn’t make me wait long.
“I’m going to remove the Jovium,” he says. “When I do, you will complete your mission, and you will not hurt us. You don’t have the right to hurt us. You’ll need our guidance when you get back. Do you understand?”
I nod.
“Answer.”
“Yes,” I croak.
Milgram retrieves a shielded hermetic crate from under the table and places the glowing stone inside.
Card withdraws his hand and slides his chair away from me, looking equal parts disappointed and wary.
Milgram sets the crate to seal and, little by little, the strength returns to my body, leaving my mind ransacked.
I pull at the restraints again, and this time the back of the chair splinters and breaks away, allowing me to stand.
I can’t hurt the men in front of me, and I have to kill the Justice Juniors.
There’s no choice in that.
That’s how it has to be.
But there was something else, too. Something important.
Right.
With a measured burst of firework energy, I set the curtains at the other end of the room ablaze.
The men both look at me in momentary confusion.
I don’t remember why I’m doing it, either, until the smoke detector activates, a siren that could wake the dead shrieking through the room.
I move toward the pain of the sound instead of away, sighing with relief as it purges the dripping of Milgram’s voice from my ears, just like Dissident’s earpiece.
Realizing what I’ve done, Milgram reaches for the hermetic case, but I’m faster than he is now and pick it up first.
Card’s fingers are in his ears and he doesn’t seem to understand what’s going on even when I clamp one hand over his thick neck and reach the other into the pocket of his grotesquely tented pants, just long enough to relieve him of his phone.
The kitchen door opens in response to the alarm, and powers or not, I have to get out of here before—
Pinnacle reaches the doorway first, and looks right at me.
I can’t beat him in a fight. I know his stats by heart. He’s much too strong. But I’m a shade faster. My only chance is to lose him before he can start one.
Carrying the case of Jovium, I put on every ounce of speed that’s returned to my body, escaping the first beam of his heat vision by millimeters, smashing through the window before I can feel it break, and rocketing halfway out to sea without looking back.
I hover for a moment, listening to make sure I’m alone, test
ing control of my limbs, my altitude, my temperature, and it’s only when the sensation of utter helplessness has passed that the sting of it catches up and the shudders set in.
I don’t want to go back to land. I’ve only just arrived here in this safe bubble of solitude where nothing wants to use, hurt, or lie to me, but I know I can’t leave Milgram, Card, Pinnacle and my family to carry on with their plans, Jovium or not. I can’t keep flying away whenever something happens that I can’t stand to be close to, because someone needs to do better, and I meant what I said.
I choose me.
Finally, I look down at Card’s phone. My recovering fingers don’t want to cooperate, but I manage to turn the screen on without dropping it into the waves.
Numeric lock.
Worth a try:
11111.
It unlocks.
If my uncle and the rest of them are really pretending to each other that they’re all equal partners in this, then Card’s almost certainly got something on here that can tell me where that file is before it’s too late.
On my last day as a guest at the bad guys’ table, I can finally do what I went back to them for.
But first, I dial Eddie’s number.
CHAPTER 21: THE DETECTIVE
When the world’s a dangerous place and everywhere you ever considered safe has burned to the ground, sometimes you have to find safety in the least likely of places.
This is why we chose the now abandoned Snyder Sanitarium for Lost Souls as our rally point after the conspiracy’s hit campaign. Ever since Kline and Dissident cleared the place out and the subsequent police investigation, the hospital has been empty, and it’s about the closest thing we could find to a sanctuary.
After all, Milgram wouldn’t come looking for us at his old home base, would he?
Dissident is already there when Petting Zoo, Kaley, and I arrive. She’s in the entrance rotunda, still decked out in Milgram’s Christmas decorations, which now look dim and tattered from the police investigation, faint memories of a better time that never came for the people who used to call this place home.
Her costume shines with sticky blood. Some of it hers, no doubt, the way she’s limping, but not all of it. The moment she sees us, she limps over, pulls off her helmet, throws her arms around Petting Zoo, and kisses her passionately.
Though surprised, Petting Zoo quickly welcomes it.
When they’re finished, Fadia grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me into a hug.
“Glad you’re still alive.”
“Same to you. You make it out okay?”
“Better than Milgram’s guys.”
“They’re not all Milgram’s.”
“I know.”
I mean to introduce Kaley, but she’s gone invisible on us again. She fades into existence only long enough to look at Fadia and go back to hiding behind Petting Zoo.
“You up to date?” I ask.
“Yes,” Fadia says. “We’re going after them, right? We’re going to tear them the fuck down for everything they’ve destroyed, right?”
“You really think that’s an option at this point?” Petting Zoo asks.
“You really think there’s any other option?” Fadia snaps back.
“Look, I’ve never once backed down from a fight in my life,” says Petting Zoo, “but there’s a first time for everything, and I think this might be it. Pinnacle City isn’t safe for us anymore.”
“Not an option. I’ve fought too long and hard for the people of this city. You don’t want to fight, fine. But I’m doing this with or without your help.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t gonna, I just wanted to, you know, throw out all ideas.”
“Well, throw out better ideas.”
Fadia looks to me like I’m going to be the one to throw out this fabled better idea, but I’ve got nothing. I want to make them pay every bit as much as she does for all they’ve done and all they will do if nothing stops them, but Petting Zoo’s not wrong either. No matter what we’ve done or how hard we’ve fought, Milgram and Card and their kind have always been two steps ahead of us, and likely always will be. If we keep fighting like this, there’s a chance we’ll be able to make some kind of difference, but there’s an even greater chance we’ll all die.
So, instead of coming up with a plan now, I say, “Let’s wait for Kline first.”
“The hero?” Fadia asks.
“Like it or not, she’s a part of this. She got hit tonight too.”
“How?”
“Milgram.”
“And she got away?”
“Yes.”
“On her own?”
“Yes,” I say, with greater irritation.
“And you still trust her? With his powers … ?”
“I don’t think he’s in her head, but if he is, I’ve no doubt you got something in one of your belts that’ll take her out.”
“That’s beside the point,” she says, pulling a small dark vial from the back of her utility belt, where she keeps her collection of superhero weaknesses. “I’m just upset because you didn’t tell us everyone you invited to this little party, and I need to know these things before—”
The doors swing open behind us.
Glowing slightly from her flight, Kimberly Kline stands with her arms splayed wide, bracing herself against the doorframe.
“We need to—Why is award-winning field reporter Fadia Bakkour here?”
Once she’s mostly done goggling at Fadia’s secret identity, Kline lays out the true scale of how utterly fucked we are in slow, painful detail. That there were superheroes involved in this isn’t much of a surprise, because, hey, what aren’t they involved in?
That the entire starting lineup of the Pinnacle City Guardians is in on it gives a lot more credit to Petting Zoo’s “run away” idea.
Kline doesn’t seem to have even considered that possibility.
“We have to sneak into the Card mansion and stop this, tomorrow,” she says, motioning to Mayor Card’s cell phone. With the loss of Collingwraith’s laptop, this phone is all we have, but god bless Card for having shitty security, because Kline was able to break in and get all sorts of necessary info. “Well,” she corrects herself, looking at the early morning hour on the phone’s screen, “tonight, technically.”
“Why tonight?” Fadia asks. I know she’s especially irritated with being outed to Kline like this, but at least she’s being professional and hearing her out.
“Because, going by the texts on Card’s phone, that’s when it all goes down. Mayor Card, Milgram … my family, all of them will be there for a big meeting where they’re going to destroy Quentin’s file. If we can sneak in and steal the file before it’s destroyed, then it’s game over for them.”
She says it so confidently I seriously consider what Fadia was suggesting, that Milgram may have actually compromised her and that this is all a way to lead us into a trap.
I rule that out quickly, because if she’d been programmed to kill, she could’ve blasted us with energy from the skies the moment she got here, and there wouldn’t have been a damn thing we could’ve done to stop her.
Even so, her plan just doesn’t jive with me. I know she’s proposing the sneaky approach because she thinks that’s what Fadia and I would prefer, but this time I just can’t agree.
“No.”
“No?”
“No,” I repeat. “We’ve done the sneaking thing, and it’s time for a new tactic. They’ve been raining down hell on the Crescent and WPC the way they have because they know nobody’d dare doing stuff like that in EPC. I think if they’re expecting us to attack, they’re gonna expect us to try and sneak in and they’ll be prepared for that … so why not try something different? Something so crazy they won’t know what hit ’em until it’s too late?”
“I don’t know if you remember basic training all that well, but frontal assaults are generally considered suicidal for a reason,” Petting Zoo adds.
“I’m not suggesting one, exactly
.”
“Then what are you suggesting?” Fadia asks, intrigued.
I wasn’t really suggesting anything, but now I have to come up with something. I think of the few things we were able to salvage from the Lineup, and an answer comes to me.
“They get away with all the sneaking around they do because no one notices it over the noise of the rest of their shit on the airwaves. Well, how about we take a page from their playbook and fight fire with fire? This time, we won’t bother trying to hide. This time, we’ll be the ones making the noise.”
We’ve got a day to plan and set our affairs in order before we make our move on the Card mansion. Kline’s knowledge of the grounds is invaluable, especially in figuring out just which spots would be most vulnerable to a breach. I have to hand it to her, she knows that this is going to be career suicide (possibly literal suicide), and she’s ready to go in without the slightest hesitation.
The plan we come up with is simple and brutal.
Kline and I break into the compound from opposite sides and raise all sorts of hell, taking out as many goons and henchmen as we can while making sure none of the big bads behind the meeting can escape (Fadia’s getting her hands on a teleportation jammer to help with that) and, god-willing, attract as much police and media attention as we can. If the mayor and the Guardians are seen conspiring with Milgram and his goons, it’ll be pretty hard for anyone to ignore, and even harder for Card to talk his way out of it.
This is the showier part of our plan, the blunt force portion we’ve got in place for if anything goes to hell.
The real core of the plan rests on Dissident. While Kline and I tear down the house of Card and distract all the heavy hitters, Dissident’s gonna sneak inside and steal the Julian file. Once found, it’s her job to get the hell out of there and protect the file with her life until she can make the story of all stories and tell the world everything that’s been going on in Pinnacle City.
We know we might not all make it out alive, but, not being able to speak for the others, I’m okay with this. I ain’t led a life worth remembering, and god knows I’ve fucked up more than I’ve done right, but this … this is a chance, I think, my one chance, maybe my last chance, to do something good.
