Black and White

by Jackie Kessler

  Frostbite’s shock was replaced with a sad look, his eyes far away. “You know, Callie, you should cut her some slack.”

  Iridium cocked an eyebrow. “Slack? This coming from the only person who might possibly hate her more than I do?”

  “I’m not saying that what happened between you two was right, by any stretch,” said Frostbite curtly. “But you haven’t been riding a desk at Corp for the past five years. You see things, when people consider you invisible and unimportant.” His mouth flattened with a bitter twist. “Believe me, Calista, Corp’s got something hanging over Jet. I don’t know what it is, but it’d have to be bad for her to be … well …”

  “Herself?” said Iridium. “Please. Jet’s not happy unless she has a master to bring slippers and the newspaper.” She drained her coffee and stood up. “I’m hacking Ops, Derek. She needs a wake-up. They all do.”

  “You’re serious,” Frostbite said.

  “Duh.”

  “Iridium,” he said, sounding for all the world like someone from the EC condemning her on the tele. “Have you really thought about this?”

  “Have you?” she growled. “Fuck it, Derek, you’re still there. You’re still hanging around after what they tried to do to you.”

  “‘Tried’ being the operative word. Obviously, it didn’t take.” He fidgeted in his chair. “I’m not like you, Iri.”

  “Shocking revelation. Never would have guessed.”

  He held up a hand. “Let me finish.”

  She settled down.

  “I can’t live like you do,” Derek said quietly. “Knowing that if I slipped, I could spend the rest of my life in a hole, closed off from everything. That if I let the Mind flunkies get inside my head again, I might not even be myself anymore.”

  “Spare me the lecture,” said Iridium, kicking back her chair. “You won’t change my mind.”

  “Good,” said Derek, meeting her gaze. “Because when you fuck Corp over, I want you to give the sons of bitches a kick for me.”

  CHAPTER 49

  JET

  Who do heroes hold in the dark, when their job is done? Who could love a hero more than the people who already adore them and practically worship them as gods?

  Lynda Kidder, “Heroes Among Us,” New Chicago Tribune, March 5, 2112

  What do you think you’re doing?” Jet gleeped and stepped back from her bedroom window, then turned to see Bruce in the doorway, arms crossed, his face set in a mask of righteous fury. Jet smiled sheepishly, said, “You’re back early. Should have taken you at least another half hour to run that errand.”

  Bruce stormed over to her, glanced out the window and down to the street, and Jet knew she’d been busted. He growled, “Tell me you had nothing to do with the little old lady who’s smacking an unconscious gangbanger with her purse.”

  “Um …”

  “Jet …”

  “What was I supposed to do, let her get mugged?” Light, she was whining. Steeling her voice, she said, “It was just a little creeper. They didn’t even notice it.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, honey, you’re on bed rest for one more day.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t call me ‘honey.’”

  Ignoring her outburst, he said, “Know what bed rest means? Your ass is supposed to be in that bed. Resting.”

  Jet glared at him. “You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

  “I sure as hell do. While you’re recuperating from almost dying, you’re in my care. And that means,” he added, his voice dripping with a combination of menace and compassion, “I take care of you. Now get back into bed, Jet.”

  Pouting, she crossed her arms defiantly. Her Runner didn’t get to boss her around like this. Period. “I wasn’t going to let him rob her,” she said.

  “Hate to break it to you, honey, but you’re not the only hero on the block. Or the entire Complex. Let them earn their paychecks.”

  “I said don’t call me that!”

  “And I said get back into bed.”

  They glared at each other, and damn it all to Darkness, Jet couldn’t help but notice how bright his eyes were when they lit with passion. I can’t be attracted to him, she told herself as she scowled at him. He’s an arrogant, demanding bear of a man.

  Who looked so freaking sexy that it made her panties damp.

  “Jet,” he said softly, his voice a low growl that did very maddening things to her, “so help me, if you don’t start behaving, I’m going to lace your food with so many sedatives that you won’t be able to get out of bed to go to the bathroom.”

  Her eyes widened from the threat. “You’ll be the one changing bedpans, so I think that’s a lose-lose situation.”

  “I’m willing to do some dirty work for you. And if you still don’t behave, I’m going to spank you.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Honey, there’s a lot that I’d dare for the right reason. Now, are you getting back into bed? Or do I drug you up and carry you there, then swat your ass?”

  And he would too. Jet knew that from the sheer determination on his face. “You’re an insufferable bastard.”

  “No. I’m your Runner. And until you’re given a clean bill of health, I’m also your caregiver. It’s my job, and I’m paid well to do it.” He pointed at her bed. “Get going, Jet.”

  She frowned at him, then grudgingly complied. “It was just a creeper. Barely cost me any energy.”

  “Any energy is too much energy.” He wagged a finger at her, scolding her like a child. “Unless you want all of Faith Healer’s work to unravel and get yourself grounded for the better part of two months while your shattered bones heal the old-fashioned way, you better stop pushing yourself too hard.”

  “I should fire you.”

  “Ah, you love me and you know it.”

  “As soon as Terry gets back here for the evening shift,” she muttered, climbing into her hated bed, “I’m absolutely firing you.”

  “You said that yesterday too. And yet when I showed up to relieve Terry this morning, you didn’t tell me you’d call Corp if I didn’t get out of your apartment.”

  She ignored how his very proximity made her mind almost short out from lust. Voice curt, she said, “Maybe that’s just because I wanted to give you a chance to get another job first. Line yourself up as a Runner for someone else. Steele, maybe.”

  “Want to know what I think?”

  “Not particularly.”

  He grinned. “I think it’s because you like that I don’t fawn all over you like the other Runners did. I think you like that I treat you like a normal person, not some goddess made flesh.”

  At that, Jet grew quiet. When she didn’t object to Bruce settling the comforter around her, he said, “Did I hit a nerve?”

  “A little,” she admitted. “But you’re only half-right. My Runners either adore me, or they’re terrified of me. I’m either the legendary Lady of Shadows, or I’m a freak that they can’t wait to get away from.”

  “You’re not a freak.”

  Her lips twitched. “Tell that to Everyman.”

  “The Everyman Society can go suck it up their collective asses. You’re no freak, Jet. None of the extrahumans are.”

  She blew out a frustrated sigh. Mentioning Everyman reminded her that Bruce hadn’t been able to reach Frostbite. And Night had proven equally uncommunicative. She hated being cut off.

  Bruce sat on the edge of the bed, facing her. “You know, I can understand the adoration your Runners had.” His voice was soft, gentle. “I wasn’t kidding when I told you I was a huge fan. Have been ever since you stopped Crusher Jones from looting First National five years ago. I was there.”

  “You were?”

  “One of the many on the rubble of the floor, hoping that I wouldn’t be the one Crusher used as an example to all the cops outside.” He smiled grimly, and his eyes focused on something Jet couldn’t see. “He’d taken out the security guard with those meat hooks of his, and the main lobby was to
taled. One of the tellers hadn’t moved fast enough, and he’d slammed the back of her head. I still hear the crunch, sometimes.”

  “The sounds can be hard,” she said, “especially at night.” Especially in the dark.

  Bruce’s eyes lit as his smile broadened, transforming his face from ruggedly handsome into something truly beautiful. “I remember the room growing cold, and the shadows coming alive and wrapping Crusher like a present. And then you just appeared, stepping out of nothing, telling him he’s under arrest. And like that, the crisis was over.”

  Jet remembered. It had been one of her first solo missions after graduating from Academy, becoming a full member of the Squadron. She’d refused a partner.

  She’d never request a partner again. They inevitably left you—either they died, or they betrayed you.

  “I was a kid,” she murmured. “Still wet behind the ears. Looking to prove myself to the Squadron.”

  “You proved yourself to me that day.” He took her hand, squeezed. “You’re the reason I became interested in the Academy at all.”

  She let out a startled laugh. “You became a Runner because of me?”

  “Sort of. I had an interesting run-in with Night, and he pretty much got me the job.”

  “Wow.” She tried to imagine what Bruce could have done to capture Night’s attention. “You must have really impressed him.”

  He loosened his hold on her hand and slowly trailed his thumb over her palm. “Hey, I’m an impressive guy.”

  “Among other things,” she said, her voice level to disguise how her heartbeat was rocketing. Light, if this is how he made her feel just by touching her hand, what would it be like if he touched her—

  “And you’re a very impressive woman.”

  “I’m a hero,” she murmured, feeling light-headed and tingly. Maybe she was having a relapse. Yes, that had to be it. She wasn’t healed at all … “Being a woman is secondary. Duty first. Always.”

  He leaned in—so close now that she could barely breathe. “You’re off duty for two more days.”

  “Yes …”

  “So it’s time for the woman in you to get the attention she deserves.”

  “Bruce …”

  Then his lips were on hers, and her protest faded as she melted into his kiss.

  When she woke two hours later, naked, her sheets rumpled, her body so very, very relaxed and a permagrin on her face, it was well after six o’clock. She heard someone moving around the apartment—humming a song. That had to be Terry; she liked to sing to the radio.

  Bruce was long gone. But next to her pillow was a note:

  If I’m not fired, I’ll see you tomorrow. Can’t wait.—B

  Jet’s grin stretched even broader. She couldn’t wait, either. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

  CHAPTER 50

  IRIDIUM

  No matter where you go, the Academy will always be your home.

  Academy Assistant Superintendent Neil Moore, to the new graduates during the Academy’s graduation ceremony

  Iridium fidgeted inside her canvas jumpsuit. Her psychiatrist suit was bad; this was unbearable. The blue jumper with the Chicago Power, Light, & Antigravity patches on the shoulders was dense and smelled like day-old roast-beef sandwiches, which, she guessed, its real owner consumed with some regularity.

  Taser, wearing sunglasses and a bandanna over the lower half of his face, opened the junction box with his stolen tools and examined the wires. “Fuck. You know what any of these are?”

  Iridium examined the diagram. “I’m more of a chemistry girl, but I’d say if you hit that set of circuits there,” she said, pointing, “it’ll take out the backup city power. They won’t have a shot of fixing it in time.”

  “Good enough.” With a touch of his hand, he fried the entire junction box.

  Iridium frowned at him. “Was that completely necessary?”

  “Never hurts to be sure.”

  “Come on.” Passersby were starting to cough on the acrid smoke rising from the box; she and Taser had to get moving. Now.

  After they stripped out of the jumpsuits and stuffed them into a trash ’bot, Iridium breathed a little easier. Granted, not much easier. They wore white coveralls now: Corp uniforms with its imposing black concentric Cs on the breast pocket.

  “See you on the other side,” said Taser.

  She nodded grimly.

  They left the alley at opposite ends and Iridium waited for an Academy shuttle to come by. It stopped for her, keying onto the frequency of her badge. Taser would take the next one. She moved to the back, picked a seat, and tried to blend with the rest of the lapdogs.

  Next to her, a woman said “Hi!” in a tone so perky it could shatter glass. Clipped to her pink blouse was an ID badge with a cursive R in the upper left corner.

  A Runner. Just great.

  “Hello,” said Iridium, striving for nonchalance. Her black hair was tucked under a cap, and she’d worn her doctor’s glasses and purple contacts for insurance, but she couldn’t be sure the Runner wasn’t a fangirl.

  “You’re new!”

  “Uh-huh,” said Iridium as the shuttle whirred along, entering the private tunnel that led to the service entrance of the Academy. The plans flickered in Iridium’s mind. She was moving, like a clot in an artery, making her way to the heart of the system.

  “What division are you? I’m a Runner!” The Runner lowered her voice. “I work for Hornblower He’s dreamy!”

  “You’re smoking junk.”

  The Runner blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “I said he sure is a hunk.”

  “Isn’t he, though?”

  “Sure. This is my stop.”

  “Well … bye!” the Runner chirped, levity recovered.

  Iridium restrained herself from running off the shuttle. Just another working drone, she reminded herself as she walked with a group of other Academy workers. Just another day at the superoffice.

  Just before the biodetector gate, a guard stopped her. “ID, miss.”

  Iridium flashed it at him, and he blipped her with a scanner. “First day?”

  “Yes,” said Iridium, smiling brightly. “I wasn’t supposed to start until next week, but apparently there’s a problem with the cooling system. They’re calling all the Maintenance workers in.”

  The guard frowned. “Temperature feels fine to me.”

  Iridium kept smiling, taking her badge back. “Wait for it.”

  She walked past the guard, through the biodetector that would scan her for metal, disease, disguise, contagion … and then she was joining a line of other jumpsuited workers, shuffling along at that don’t-really-care pace so many people adopted when they worked too many hours for too little money.

  Iridium looked at the arched white walls, familiar as if she’d last been inside the Academy an hour ago.

  She allowed herself a tiny grin. “I’m back,” she whispered.

  Half an hour later, Iridium approached the double blast doors that housed the Academy’s generator complex. She’d run a few training exercises here, as a student, with Jet and Derek and Chen, back in Third Year. Enclosed spaces, embedded opponents. Jet hadn’t been a fan; too many variables, especially with the inflatable “civilians” acting as shields.

  One time, Iridium’s solution had been to toss a smoke grenade into the generator room and wait for the Containment “enemies” to come stumbling out. Frostbite had frozen them, and the op was over. Celestina had failed her for not following Squadron protocol. “You could have given those citizens lifelong respiratory problems!” she’d chided. Once again, a reminder that heroes were supposed to play by the rules.

  The thought made Iridium smile.

  “Maintenance?” said the guard at the door. “You’re not scheduled.”

  “Nope,” she said, silently counting down. The cameras were on a thirty-second sweep. She heard a lift swish down the corridor, and Taser appeared, back in his costume, his face once again hidden by his goggled mask. Sm
iling at the guard, she said, “But trust me, this is where I’m supposed to be.”

  “Huh?” The guard cocked his head. “What do you—”

  The camera cycled away, and Iridium jabbed him in the throat. He collapsed without a sound, mouth working like a hooked fish’s.

  Taser put his hand against the blast doors. “You’re sure the tilithium coats all of the walls in there?”

  “That’s what the plans say,” Iridium said tersely. “Hurry up. We’re got twelve seconds.”

  Taser exhaled, and a stream of electric currents writhed free of his hand, crackling over the door. The lights flickered once, twice—and as Iridium counted six, five, four … they went out.

  No red emergency lights came on. No alarm Klaxons sounded. The backup power from the city grid wasn’t coming to the Academy’s rescue.

  Far off, above her, Iridium heard screaming as students and heroes and Runners were plunged into dark. She couldn’t help it: She grinned. Looking over to where she was just able to make out the shine of Taser’s goggles, she said, “Nice work, Ace.”

  “Light us up.”

  Iridium created a bobbing strobe to guide them to the lift. Taser tapped the call pad, and the box slid open. Once they were both inside, he electrified the control panel to override security protocol, then the door slid back. Iridium looked up, imagining the thunk of the security doors slamming shut as they automatically detected the power outage.

  Taser followed her gaze. “Gonna be a lot of trapped, pissed-off grunts up there.”

  “Not as pissed off as the heroes will be when they find themselves without a way out of the Rat Network,” said Iridium. “Ops still has power, and they’re going to know something is up. So move this tin can.”

  “I love a woman who gives me orders,” Taser said with a grin, then he zapped the lift control. “Going up.”

  CHAPTER 51

  JET

  Oh, I don’t believe in bad news. It’s all in how we process information. Keeping a good attitude is all you need to do, no matter what the circumstances.