Captain Colossal, Squadron member for New York Metropolis
After a day and a night of being handcuffed to the wall of her cell, Iridium watched the door roll back to reveal two Containment officers. “Clean her up,” the man told the woman. “Get the blood off. There are cameras out there.”
“Who cares about some rabid?” the woman muttered, scrubbing at Iridium’s face and neck with a sanitary cloth.
“That Shadow bitch called the press in,” said the Containment officer. “Can you believe that shit?”
Iridium blinked. Jet was holding a press conference?
She didn’t know why she was surprised … of course Jet would be selling herself. Branding. The new Hero of New Chicago, protector of average rapists against big bad rabids.
The Containment officer threw a pair of prison blues at Iridium’s feet. “When you’re released from the cuffs, you’ll change. Then you’ll be prepped for transport to your cell at Blackbird.”
“Jail?” Iridium said, stunned. She composed herself in the next second, so they wouldn’t know how shocked she was that she wasn’t just going upstairs to have holes poked in her brain for the rest of her natural life.
“Better than you deserve,” said the male officer The door swished shut. A moment later, Iridium’s cuffs released. She dropped her arms, her muscles crying.
After she’d put on the rough cotton inmate’s uniform, the door opened again.
“Hey!” Iridium yelled. “I’m not dressed!”
Instead of the Containment team, Jet stood in the opening.
Iridium curled her lip back. “You.”
“I don’t have much time,” Jet said. “I had your guards paged away to deal with the crowd outside, but they’ll be back.”
“Come down here to gloat over a job well done?” Iridium said, zipping the jumpsuit over her bra.
“Callie …” Jet pressed her hands over her face. “Why’d it have to be this way? Why couldn’t you have done the right thing?”
“See, Jet,” Iridium said, crossing her arms, “I did do the right thing. I know it, because all the time I’ve been in this cell, I haven’t felt one thin drop of regret for Paul Collins.”
“You just proved everyone right,” Jet said. “You proved you’re like your father.”
“Mutual,” said Iridium. “You proved everyone right too.”
Jet blinked behind her goggles. “Excuse me?”
“You proved that you’re a lapdog who parrots the party line no matter what. Who sells out her friends for TV ratings and who will never, ever be able to grow a backbone and think for herself.” Iridium stepped closer to Jet, feeling her power grow hot inside her. “And that’s why I’m not sorry about this. At all.”
“You’re wrong …” Jet started, but Iridium made her move.
She strobed Jet in the face, the other girl’s goggles flying clean off her head from the force of the blast. Jet crumpled, groaning, red outlines on her cheeks and forehead where the goggles had been.
“I’m not like my father,” Iridium whispered. “I’m better than him. You’ll never catch me, Joannie.”
“You … can’t … do this,” Jet groaned.
“Oh, I think I can. I think a pack of innocent reporters standing around will dissuade the Squadron from any hasty action,” Iridium said as the alarms began to whoop.
“Iri,” Jet called after her, but Iridium ignored her.
She stepped out of her cell.
This was the moment. If Jet was quick, tough, and smart like they’d tried to teach her, all she had to do was send a creeper. Iridium was exhausted and surrounded by hostile extrahumans. Jet had her chance.
The darkness never came.
Iridium turned back, once. “That’s what I thought. Be seeing you, Jet.”
Iridium shut the door on her former friend and walked toward the light.
CHAPTER 58
JET
Heroes must always have someone to play the villain. Otherwise, the world would have no use for them.
Lester Bradford, statement made during sentencing at his felony trial
On the Academy rooftop, Jet stared into the distance as the sun began its ascent. She’d been there all night, watching the stars attempt to twinkle through the haze of pollution that shrouded New Chicago. But no matter how brightly the pinpricks of light shone, they didn’t make a dent in the darkness.
At night, shadows reigned supreme.
But the dawn was coming, and with it a new day … and with that would come the repercussions for Jet’s actions. It had been her suggestion—her demand—that Iridium be sent to Blackbird instead of Therapy. It had been her weakness that had allowed Iridium to slip away from the Academy, and from justice.
For all Corp knew, Jet had arranged to have Iri escape from the moment she’d slain Paul Collins.
Snarling, Jet let fly a blast of Shadow. It curved into the nighttime sky and obliterated the few stars that had gamely tried to overcome the darkness. A flicker of white, quickly swallowed by black.
Damn her! How could she have done this to Jet? How could she have thumbed her nose at them all and just disappeared? Heroes don’t do that!
But Iridium had proven she was no hero. She was rabid, like her father before her.
Jet sank to the floor, slowly, clenched her fists, and slammed them against her thighs as she knelt before the rising sun as if offering a penance to the Light, or to Jehovah, or any deity that actually cared.
How could Callie have killed that man? Jet couldn’t understand; the very concept of a hero killing anyone was utterly alien. Yes, in battle there were casualties on both sides, but those were justifiable. In battle, in the war against evil and injustice, people got hurt, and sometimes, accidents happened.
But Iridium had killed him in cold blood. She could have stopped herself. Should have stopped herself.
From the darkness of her mind, Jet heard laughter. She frowned, adjusted the white-noise frequency in her earpiece.
How do you even think with that thing in your ear? Iri’s voice was smooth and taunting, like white chocolate.
Callie, how could you murder that man?
Iri laughed. I haven’t felt one thin drop of regret for Paul Collins.
Jet knew. And it broke her heart.
I’m not sorry about this, Iridium whispered. At all.
Jet shrieked her rage and her sorrow to the sky, and in her mind, the voices giggled. Eventually, her voice gave out and she broke off, panting, hearing her cry echo and fade away.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
Her back stiffened, and she pointedly refused to turn around to face Night. She heard him approach, then halt just behind her, to her left.
“You should be sleeping. Tomorrow’s a big day. First the tribunal for you, and then, assuming they don’t expel you, you’re off to graduation.” Night snorted. “Little worry about expulsion, though. Not while you’re the apple of Corp’s eye and slated to be the Hero of New Chicago.”
She said nothing as she rose to her feet. She wouldn’t look at him.
Silence stretched between them as the sun rained its brilliance on the city.
“Nevertheless,” Night finally said, “you’re still ass deep in alligators. Both Corp and the Academy are desperate for a scapegoat, just in case their media damage control fails. I’m here to officially read you the riot act.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m fully aware that if Iridium’s escape ever makes the news, my career will be over. Sir.”
“If she’s anything like her father,” Night said dryly, “escaping from lockup will be the least of her crimes. I give her three months before she starts to act outside of the law.”
At that, she turned to face her mentor. “She wouldn’t,” Jet insisted.
“Believe me, I know the Bradford family all too well.” Beneath his cowl, Night’s eyes gleamed, perhaps with amusement. “Luster was already doing the things he was noted for as Arclight, even when he was still
in the Squadron. Small things. Starting with disregarding procedure. Going off half-cocked. Bad-mouthing the Academy, the Squadron, even Corp. Sound like anyone you know?”
Jet flinched.
“She’s as arrogant as her father ever was,” Night said, walking to stand next to Jet. He, too, stared at the lightening sky. “Thinks she’s above everyone and everything around her. Can’t be bothered with following the rules when they’re inconvenient.”
“She’s always had a problem with that,” Jet murmured.
“Too smart for her own good,” Night said, nodding at her. “Just like her father. They get bored. They act out. Iridium will follow in her father’s footsteps. You can count on it.”
Jet said quietly, “And me, sir? Will I follow in my father’s footsteps?”
After a pause, Night said, “Blackout was a fine hero.” He turned to look at the New Chicago skyline, and when he next spoke, his voice was distant, dreamlike. “One of the best. He did things with Shadow that were groundbreaking. He had no fear, and he was ready to sacrifice himself to help others.”
Jet rubbed her arms, thinking about her father and how he’d looked when he’d given her mother one final squeeze. “Until the Shadow started speaking to him.”
“All powers have a weakness, Joan,” Night said. “Ours just happens to be more … noticeable.”
She frowned as she considered his words. It had never occurred to her that other extrahumans had their own shadows to overcome. “What about Lighters? What’s their weakness?”
“Pride.”
Jet thought about that, then slowly nodded.
“You’re in trouble, Jet. Make no mistake about that.” Night’s voice was full of reproach, and Jet bit her lip, hung her head low. He said, “You let your feelings get in the way of following procedure.”
“I know, sir. But it was Iri.”
“Iridium. No nicknames, Joan. No vestiges of friendship. That’s all dead and gone now, like the man she slaughtered.”
“He was a rapist,” Jet said, lifting her head to see the sun reaching higher. “She said he was hurting a woman, had hurt lots of women.”
“And that gave her the right to play Jehovah?” Night snorted. “Pride, Jet. Arrogance. All Light powers stink of it. She’s no different. And now, thanks to her, you may lose everything we’ve worked for.”
Glaring at the sunrise, Jet clenched her fist. An inky stain spread over her fingers. “How do I make this right?”
“You graduate tomorrow. You’ve already interviewed with the Squadron recruiter, so all that’s left is the waiting. Once you get assigned, your first duty will be to this city—your sponsor as well as your protectorate. You’ll do what you’re told. You’ll save lives. You’ll keep Corp happy, and will be the perfect Academy graduate. And when Iridium shows up, you’ll strike.”
“You’re so sure she’s going rabid,” Jet said, nostrils flaring. “She could just go rogue, be a vigilante.”
“And is that any better?”
Although her heart screamed yes, that made all the difference in the world, she said what the Academy had taught her: “No. Not at all.”
Iridium whispered, You proved that you’re a lapdog who parrots the party line no matter what.
She thinks I sold her out. Jet bared her teeth in a silent scream. She really thought all I cared about was getting press. It never occurred to her that I’d helped her.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jet said—maybe to Iridium, maybe to Night. “She’s shown her true colors.”
You’ll never, ever be able to grow a backbone and think for yourself.
And that’s where you’re wrong, Jet vowed. “I’ll do what I have to do.”
“You’ll find her, Jet.”
She stared out into the dawn, the light and color playing in the sky as if in tribute to Iridium. “I will. A hero never quits.”
A hero whose entire time at the Academy was spent by having everyone protect her from the things that went bump in the night. From the boogeyman in the shadows. From the voices.
From life.
She thought of Iri, that day long ago, telling Jet to stand up to Dawnlighter, and that if anyone gave Jet any shit, Iri would punch their faces in.
Jet took a deep breath, felt it fill her, cleanse her. She exhaled, shedding her worries, her fears. Her doubts.
She was done needing protection.
“However long it takes, I promise, I’ll bring Iridium back home.” Her eyes teared as she stared into the sun and refused to look away. “And justice will be served.”
Night put his gauntleted hand on her shoulder. “It will, little Shadow. This I promise you. There will be a day of reckoning. And then, the Light will fall before the Shadow.”
His words made her tremble with anticipation, and for the first time in days, Jet allowed herself to smile.
The sun rose, and a new era had begun.
CHAPTER 59
JET
Do extrahumans have a choice in their role? Is it destiny? A calling? Or something else, something that drives them to put aside personal gain and dedicate their lives to helping others?
Lynda Kidder, “Origins: Part One,” New Chicago Tribune, March 26, 2112
When Jet woke up, she was on the floor, on her side, with her arms pinned behind her. It took her a moment to realize she was awake; her thoughts felt sluggish, almost soupy, and she had to blink a few times before she could focus. That didn’t help much; all she saw was a gray wall, very close to her face.
Floor, she thought dimly. Why am I on the floor?
“About time,” someone said, the voice disembodied. Floating. But not one of her Shadow voices; this one she heard with her ears. “Thought you were going to sleep through all the waiting.”
Jet blinked again, connected the rasping voice to a name. “Iridium?”
“Yeah.”
She sat up quickly, steeling herself to fight—and then collapsed back down with a groan, squeezing her eyes shut to keep the world from spinning.
“Forgot to tell you,” Iridium said. “Stun-cuffs. You want to move slow, or you’ll puke all over yourself. Stink up the place in a big way.”
“Go ahead,” Jet grated between clenched teeth. “Gloat.”
“Who, me? Sort of the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”
“What are you talking about?”
She heard soft laughter—a bitter sound, completely without mirth. “I’m just as much the trussed-up turkey as you are, Joannie.”
Jet sat up again, much slower this time, and was relieved when she was able to hold her head up without feeling like her guts would spill out of her mouth. The wall in front of her was barren, just a long slab of gray, or maybe steel. Hard to tell in the poor lighting. She inched her way around, turning slowly until she could see the rest of the small room—a cell, really, with one door and no windows. There was just enough room for her … and Iridium.
Jet stared coldly at the woman across from her. And then blinked. Iri looked terrible. Sure, her posture was all arrogance: seated on the floor, she slouched against the wall like a resentful teenager. But her face told a different story. A nasty bruise, swollen to an impressive egg, discolored Iri’s forehead. Her eyes, usually so sharp and almost icy blue, were out of focus, watery. Framing her ashen face, Iri’s black hair stuck to her brow and cheeks in tangled clumps.
And yes, her arms were bound behind her back. Jet was able to make out the silver-and-electric gleam of the stun-cuffs.
“Yeah, I know,” Iridium said, smiling thinly. “But you should see the other guy.”
“He look worse than you?”
“He will when I’m done with him.”
It was a good act. Jet almost believed her—that she really had been captured and thrown in here with Jet. But this was Iridium. She lied. She cheated. She hit you when you were down. Jet was too exhausted, mentally and physically, to play the game. At least there was some light in the small room; without her goggles or he
r comlink, the way she was feeling would have made her a punching bag for the Shadow voices.
Small favors. “What do you want, Iridium?”
“Want?” Iridium barked out a harsh laugh. “I want to get the fuck out of here and wrap my hands around Taser’s neck. Christo, you think I’m junked enough to slap a pair of working cuffs onto myself, just to play you?” She shook her head. “I’m trapped here, just like you are.”
Impossible, part of Jet’s mind declared. Iridium is a rabid. You can’t believe anything she says.
But that was only a small part of her mind, the part that parroted the Academy Mission Statement and insisted on duty before all else. Duty first. Always. The part that made her smile when she thought of all the good she was doing, of all the people she was helping. Of how wonderful it was to be a hero and have Corp behind her and beside her.
The rest of Jet’s mind—the memory of the girl she’d used to be, the part that feared the dark because she knew it had teeth, that longed for the happily-ever-afters in her romance novels and that thought, sometimes, she didn’t know who she was anymore—whispered that Iri was telling the truth.
Uneasy, Jet said, “Yeah, I just bet. Your man’s the one who tagged me.”
“We seem to have had a parting of company,” Iridium said, “considering he’s the one who flipped on me. Used my own damn neural inhibitor on me, the bastard.”
“Those are illegal.”
“Yeah, I’m learning the error of my ways. Crime doesn’t pay. Blah, blah.” Iridium paused. In the dim light, she looked tired, her face drawn and pale. “My own damn fault. It’s what I get for trusting anyone again.”
That stung. Jet said, “I trusted you too.”
Iridium’s mouth pulled into an ugly smirk. “You’d a hell of a way of showing it. How long did it take you to decide to sell me out to Corp?”
Just hearing that name set off warning bells in Jet’s mind. “You can’t possibly understand.”
“Understand what? That you traded our friendship for herodom?”
“Iri—”
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